#i just have to Know. i can’t stop until i know

[luvyeni]

MAKE HER TAP OUT ♱. ── ( 엔하이픈 )

it’s too much , but you can take it?

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 엔하이픈 x fem!reader )  ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. word count. 1k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ did this with skz so i decided to it with enha … also this has jungwon so … links are nsfw

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 희승 : heeseung ﹚ .ᐟ

heeseung being so deep inside you that you began to shake; but does he stop? absolutely not , he goes deeper , watching you shake like crazy; it turns him on even more. “fuck baby.” he chuckled against your ear , he skin warm against yours. “you’re shaking so much.” he pressed your back into a deeper arch. “so-so deep.” you stuttered , his hand came from behind , and around your neck. “so deep inside your pretty little cunt you’re shaking so fucking much.” he cursed. “to-too much.” you stuttered out , eyes rolling to the back of your head. “but you looks so cute all fucked dumb on my cock.” he said. “you can take it baby.”

“take my fat cock like a good girl.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 제이 : jay ﹚ .ᐟ

jay having a stressful day at work and coming home pressing you against the bed , pounding into you. his hips slapping against your ass as he presses your face deeper into the pillow , letting out all his frustrations. “stu-stupid fucking job.” he growled. “fucking employees don’t listen for shit.” holding the back of your head as the pillow muffles your screams. “don’t want to hear anything you say right now princess.” he said , you could grip his wrist and he would stop , but you loved when he treated you like this. “just want you to shut up and take my fat cock like a good cock sleeve.”

“can you do that? can you be a good cocksleve and take my dick princess?”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 제이크 : jake ﹚ .ᐟ

jake eats you out for sport; like that’s his second job and if he’s not holding you down , as you scream out his name , pushing at his head to release your poor sensitive bud from his plump lips — then he’s simply not doing a good job , he’s losing the game. the taste of your wet cunt on his tongue , you tugging on his hair; he’s in heaven and he shows no signs of stopping. meanwhile you’ve cum so many times you can’t even remember when he first pulled you down , getting in between your legs. “fuck i can’t cum anymore!” you moaned , but jake new you could , you haven’t squirted yet , that’s what he was waiting for. “fuck baby , you can do it , come on squirt for me.” you scream as he sucked on skin , covering him in you. “sh-shit baby, that's it keep cumming for me.” he said.

“you can do that again , fuck i want you to squirt just like that in my mouth.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 성훈 : sunghoon ﹚ .ᐟ

sunghoon overstimulating you; closing your legs, only for him to pry them back open , forcing another orgasm out of you , your juices covering his hand. “su-sunghoon fuck!” you squeal as he pushed his cock back inside you after making you cum for like the umpteenth time. “stop running from it.” he growled , holding your ankles. “you had a lot to say earlier now you’re struggling to take me.” he spat out. “you said you can take what i give you -fuck- so fucking take it.” cumming once again , he pulled of you , was he stopping? no , he was slipping his fingers back inside you. “sunghoon ! fuck please no more.” you screamed , but you knew you wanted more and so did he. “you know the safe word.”

“until you say it im gonna keep making you take my cock and my fingers.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 선우 : sunoo ﹚ .ᐟ

you and sunoo both being in a subby mood; you were on top , bouncing on his cock , him rutting his hips up trying to match each other but. “oh fuck you got tighter.” he whimpered out his hands shakily coming to your waist. “sun , m’gonna cum.” you moaned out he sped up, his thrust uncoordinated. “oh fuck my love me too — im gonna cum.” he said. “su-sunoo.” the way you said his name doubling over as you came, him following shooting his load deep inside you. “oh my god im cumming.” he kept going , riding your orgasm.

“cum please , please cum so i can make you cum again.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 정원 : jungwon ﹚ .ᐟ

most of the time sex with jungwon is soft and sweet; but there is sometimes where he is as ruthless as he can be. your arms tied up , legs spread open as he presses a vibrator to your clothed sensitive bud; pushing closer and closer to edge — only to move it away leaving you a sobbing mess. “pl-please.” you cried , he smiled , but not his normal sweet smile. “please what , what are you begging for?” he teased. “please let me cum.” you cried. “i never said you couldn’t cum did i?” he pressed the vibrator down on your clit hard. “ah fuck! please don’t move it.” you moaned. “im gonna cum.” you scream , you could feel the nearing of your sweet release; until you couldn’t anymore. “no , no please.” you sobbed , you could’ve said the safe word and he would let you cum , but you didn’t .

“on second thought maybe i should make you beg me to let you cum .. yeah , beg for baby , let me hear you.”

©️LUVYENI

[2cupids]

warnings. popular!reader, oral (m. receiving), tittyfucking, tiny bit of degradation, cüm eating. mdni (17+).

wc. 1.9k… read part 1 here!

weeks had passed and a new semester had begun since that encounter with nerd!choso and it was a nearly forgotten memory in your head.

but for choso?

he thought about it everyday. it was like a driving force that helped him push through each day and he could only dream of getting so lucky again.

so the moment he saw you walking towards him as class was being dismissed, your ridiculously short skirt swaying as you moved, he knew his prayers had been answered.

“you busy? i need you to write that research paper for me.” you ask nonchalantly as you swipe the wand of your lipgloss across your bottom lip, reapplying it.

choso’s in a trance as he watches you put your gloss on your pretty lips. you were so alluring, so gorgeous. seconds pass and still no answer. you sigh and roll your eyes, looking down at choso and making contact with his bright eyes as he stares at you.

“well?” you furrow your eyebrows as your patience grows shorter and the nerdy boy has yet to answer. choso’s heart flutters at your harsh tone and he swallows the lump in his throat before he finally answers.

“n-no, i’m not busy. i could have it done by saturday.”

your hardened expression instantly softens at his words and you give him one of your sweet smiles. “good. i’ll pick it up on sunday.”

as you turn to walk away, choso stops you. “wait! um.. wh-what do i get for helping you?” choso asks quietly, averting his eyes down to look at your legs. he can’t look you in the eyes.

you turn to him, eyeing him up and down. “and who the hell are you to ask me that?” you smirk at him, but your tone is condescending. you’re offended he would even ask that. “you don’t need to worry about that, i’ll figure out it. just get my paper done.”

and with that, you’re walking up the stairs of the lecture hall and exiting the classroom. choso sits there for a moment, replaying what just happened and taking a moment to collect himself. he finally stands up and adjusts his pants, pulling his hoodie down to cover his boner before he leaves.

the days seem to pass by much slower than he would’ve liked until the long awaited day finally rolls around. choso’s mind is flooded with the multiple different scenarios that could play out, but hell, he would take anything you give him. and that’s only if you decide to pay him back for his kindness again this time.

he’s lost in thought when there’s a knock at his door and he rushes to open it, letting you in. his hands immediately reach for the paper and you quickly skim through it, slipping it inside your bag and setting it down on his desk.

“what should i do with you?..” you cross your arms and let your eyes trail down his figure before letting them rest on his face again. “i could make you put your mouth to use. i want my pussy ate, but i know someone like you doesn’t know how to eat it. and i don’t feel like teaching you either. just go sit on the bed.”

you wonder what you can do and that’s when an idea comes to you. you walk over to him and kneel down in front of him. “so where’s your bottle of lube?”

choso’s taken back. how did you know he even had some? probably just a lucky guess, but then again you are much more experienced than him. “i..um.. it’s in the desk drawer over there. the first one.”

a faint smirk plays on your lips as you roll your eyes and stand up to go get the lube. you pull your top off and throw it on the floor, revealing the lacy pattern of your bra underneath as you sit back on your knees in front of choso again. your eyes catch sight of choso’s face and you laugh, it doesn’t take much to get him worked up. being the tease you are, you give your boobs a nice squeeze. why not give him a little show?

your hands rub his thighs, slowly making their way up to unbuckle his belt and take off his pants. choso eagerly lifts his hips to let you pull his pants and boxers down his legs, and it’s laughable how excited he is.

you take his cock in your hand, quietly admiring the length and girth. it’s almost like he grew from the last time you saw him. you always heard about how nerds like him were packing, but you just thought it was a joke.. that was til choso proved you wrong of course.

his clear arousal leaks from the head of his dick and you can’t pull yourself to look away. without another thought, you lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking the precum that slid down his shaft and up towards the tip, swiping your tongue across the opening, collecting the salty liquid straight from the source. your pretty lips wrap around it and your cheeks hollow slightly while you circle your tongue around his tip.

choso groans and instinctively bucks his hips up. never did he think the guys he saw in porn were exaggerating when he watched a girl give them head, but he never expected it to feel so good. or maybe it just feels so good because the pretty girl he’s crushing on is the one who’s on her knees doing it to him.

you pull off his cock and lick the corners of your mouth as you eye the glistening head of his dick. your hands reach back and undo the clasps of your bra, letting your heavy breasts free as you pull the bra straps down.

choso’s eyes are locked on your every move and his lips part slightly as he watches you reveal your breasts to him. he’s never seen something so beautiful in his life.

“… so pretty.” he whispers more to himself, but it’s loud enough for you to hear.

the corner of your lips curl yet again as you glance up at him. “of course they are, dummy.”

you toss your bra onto the bed and reach for the bottle of lubricant, spreading the lube along his dick before taking one breast in each hand and nestling choso’s cock in between your chest.

choso nearly melts from the warmth that your boobs bring, then you start moving them up and down his length and it feels like heaven.

like the first encounter with you did. a pretty girl with her tits wrapped around his cock.. damn. not to mention the occasional moments when your tongue comes out and flicks over the opening. he can’t help but feel truly blessed.

you can’t miss the way choso’s face twists in pleasure with each drag of your breasts up and down his length even if you wanted to. the soft pants and groans that leave his parted lips have caused a sticky mess in between your legs, making your panties latch onto your wet cunt.

it’s not a surprise to you that choso busts quick, someone like him obviously would. his face is a dead giveaway, and so are his mannerisms and how his knuckles are white from gripping his comforter. he came fast the last time and in a way you find it oddly charming how quickly this nerd cums. what does surprise you though, is when he opens his mouth and starts to beg.

“please… please. can i t-touch them?” he whimpers, the desperation in his voice is clear. “i-i won’t ask for anything else.. just please.”

he looks down through his heavy eyelids, silently pleading with you, and you’ve got to admit that it’s hot. you bite your lip and make a small noise of approval, stopping what you’re doing and reaching for his hands to put them on your breasts.

his large hands squeeze the soft flesh, really feeling and savoring what it’s like to have a nice pair of tits beneath his palms before his hips jerk as he holds your boobs, fucking your chest.

“ohhh.” choso whines, “can i please cum? need... need your permission.” he doesn’t care how vulnerable he sounds, he just wants to hear you give him your approval.

and here you are again, finding yourself so turned on by his words that they’ve got your pussy clenching. you can’t let on that you’re having a change of heart towards him though, so you scoff. “what the fuck are you asking me for you fucking freak? of course you can.”

leaning back on your hands slightly so you have a better view, you watch choso start to come undone right in front of you. his eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth hangs open, letting the whiniest sounds tumble out of his mouth that you’ve ever heard from a man. you can feel his trembling body come to pause as he halts his movements, a second later your tits are covered in his hot cum.

his limp body continues to lay against the bed and when he opens his eyes again, he finds you still on your knees in front of him. one of your hands is holding your chest while you pick up some of his cum on your finger with your other hand, sucking it into your mouth.

you feel his eyes on you and you repeat the action with a grin. his heart skips a beat and he fears you might be the death of him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

after getting off the floor and back on your feet you grab a few tissues and wipe your face and tits before you make a random, split second decision. “keep the bra.”

choso almost chokes when he hears you say that. he opens his mouth to protest but he decides against it, knowing that whatever sharp response you say will get him hard again. you rummage around your bag before you pull out the spare bra you always carry. after all, a girl like you never knows what trouble she might get herself into.

choso watches you fix your appearance in the mirror and you catch his eye in the reflection, holding his gaze. “you know.. you’d look fine as hell if you got rid of those things.”

what ‘things’ do you mean?

choso is very obviously confused and you walk over to him with a smirk, yanking his glasses off his face and waving them in front of him. “these things, dumbass.”

you move closer to him and stand in between his legs, running a hand through his thick, dark locks. “you might actually be able to pick up bitches then.”

for some reason, you find yourself standing there staring at him for longer than you’d like to. you eventually let go of his hair and sigh, taking a step back and walking over to grab your bag, preparing to leave.

“what a shame.” you say quietly as you open the door to leave, and you truly do think it is a shame.

you’ll never admit it out loud, but maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to find that stupid little loser cute.

taglist — @cheezemanz @tojicvmslut

cleo’s note — i know some people are probably gonna ask for a part 3, but idk if i’ll keep this going so don’t get your hopes up 🥲. thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated!

[girl-lostconnection]

For @nightunite. I actually came back with some Seal!Soap and some hurt/comfort of poly!141 x fruit bat!Reader. Hope this is satisfactory

Harbour seal!Soap who’s off the base whenever he can — getting back home as soon as possible, the favourite baby of his mama, the oldest son and pride of his family.

Harbour seal!Soap who has difficulty slotting into most teams, he’s not a pack hybrid, he’s not attuned to the thin threads of connection that wolves or bats or even cows can feel, he’s him and maybe that’s the problem?

Harbour seal!Soap who tries hard to blend in, because he is friendly, of course he is friendly, he’s the friendliest guy on base but whispers are that he smiles too wide, that his laugh is too strained, that his teeth are always out — sharp, menacing things.

Price takes one look at his file and thrusts the pup in Simon’s hands, hums to take care of the seal and Wolf!Simon isn’t even sure what the fuck is he supposed to do.

The lad is jumpy despite obvious brilliance, the lad is trying to smile so hard Simon’s wolf grumbles with the urge to paw at him, press cheeky pup in the ground, teach him some bloody manners. You don’t show your teeth off to the likes of Simon unless you want to have them knocked out.

But Soap wiggles his way in every conversation, eyes shiny and smiles wide up until Ghost corners him, looming like death himself — snarls that if he doesn’t want a big bad wolf to bite him, he’ll fucking stop.

Simon doesn’t know whether to act on his promise or laugh in disbelief when Johnny raises his head and grins wider, now showing off his own canine’s deliberately. Look at that, the pup can bite, can’t he?

Komodo dragon!Price just hums when he finds them tangled in each other and places a bite under Soap’s collar, teeth sinking in warm salty flesh, tongue licking off the blood.

Komodo dragons thrive on hierarchy, Price thrives on power — that’s the only thing he won’t compromise on.

Johnny grins and finds way in his arms as well. Too damn bad, captain, too damn bad. Harbour seals thrive on attention.

Their unit is all live wires and sparks and heavy heady tension — air so thick with perpetual hunger that they could carve their initials inside of a little heart.

It gets easier when Kyle arrives — he takes away some of the tension, he gets each of them, catching up on everything twice as fast as Soap did.

It scratches Johnny the wrong way, makes a sensitive small part of him whine that this is it, that Kyle will take his place because how can anyone not like Kyle? Kyle is handsome, Kyle is bright and so effortlessly charming Soap wants to whip out little notebook where sergeant speaks.

But at some point Gaz pecks a kiss to his temple and pulls him on the couch of the rec room. Warm, inviting, draping hand over his shoulders — draping wing over both of them.

Soap watches him — teeth sharp, jaws itching to try the pretty wings on the pretty Gaz, head plopping in his lap.

Kyle slots into their team like he always was there — fingers careful in Johnny’s hair, hands warm around Ghost’s shoulders, talons sharp on Price’s skin.

And then you arrive. Little bat with big eyes and big wings and some of the fluffiest hair Soap has ever seen.

You don’t slot in like Gaz, you are a little rougher around the edges, a little awkward with your approaches.

Bats are social creatures but not all of us take the best parts from our hybrid sides.

You are bloody amazing at what you do, your efficiency is not a concern but you don’t wiggle your way right in the team.

You hover on the outside, you eat your fruits alone (he isn’t even sure why you even eat them? Aren’t bats carnivores? Maybe you just like them) and in the dark, you watch them — always in the periphery of the vision. But never too close.

You remind Soap himself.

Small childish part of him wants to keep things that way, small childish part of him doesn’t like new people on the team, doesn’t like sharing attention.

But you don’t ask for any. You are just there.

It takes him month and a half and a stupid joke Ghost makes about vampires for you to reply that you are a) vegetarian b) a fruit bat and not a spectral bat for Soap to feel like someone kicked him in the face. Simon pauses, tilting head to the side, his tail stopping its friendly wag.

Your smile is too wide, your teeth are so sharp and you don’t try to fit in.

You try to stay away.

They don’t know you and you just let them know that they don’t. You just let them know that they haven’t tried to know you.

Soap spends the whole evening googling information about your species with Ghost hovering above his shoulder, dark eyes reading faster than Soap scrolls.

The next morning is the first time none of them comments on the amount of fruit you consume for breakfast.

Kyle slots in next to you, murmurs “gorgeous wings, love”, asks if you could help him with preening, offers you company for the morning drills.

Offer makes something in you flutter, sending spark of hope down your chest, your big eyes zeroing on warm friendly Kyle.

(Kyle will never admit how embarrassed he was to realise that you slipped through the cracks. Kyle will never admit that social “bird” part of him croaked with distress when he noticed that you are always a little behind. Never with them.)

Soap feels something in him clench when you glance in his direction and then shake your head at Kyle. Soap knows why you looked at him very very well.

He notices Price with your file in the afternoon, reading glasses on the tip of his nose, tail swaying in with something very similar to agitation. Price doesn’t know how to crack on you, you never fight for his right at the top of the food chain, you never contest his power. He has nothing to bite down on.

Soap isn’t sure you will give captain anything to hook on. Soap isn’t sure you feel like you can.

Johnny finds you late at night, ridiculously big bowl of fruit in your lap, his cheeks burning when your head snaps up at him and you put it away.

He and Ghost used to tease you about the amount of fruits and berries you consumed — you started eating less at dinners with them.

Soap’s throat bobs when he gulps and he shakes his head, plopping himself down on the carpet next to you.

He should have thought you’d find a way to catch up on your meals when no one looks.

When no one can make you feel wrong for eating what you like to eat.

Johnny extends his palm to you. You won’t eat while he’s here but he’d like you to. Maybe you will continue if he asks you to share.

Wikipedia page smacks his brain immediately, reminding that fruit bats eat alone and are very protective of their food.

Bloody awesome, Johnny, you might’ve as well tried to wrestle fruits out of your grip.

But before his panic forces him to hide his palm away you carefully place a date in his palm, your darker claws cool and pointy. Soap doesn’t know why but he stares, eyes gluing to him.

“Can do damage with these, eh?”, he attempts at having conversation, trying not to smile too wide. Not to show off too much teeth.

You hum out “depends” and in demonstration poke a piece of orange, skewing it on a thin claw.

Soap feels his brows arch, leaning closer, unbidden “how many can you stack on ‘em?” leaving his mouth before he thinks.

To his absolute delight you snicker and pass him the bowl.

He spends the rest of the hour stacking pieces of fruit and skewing berries on your claws and watching as you practically inhale them once he’s done.

When you two finish up the bowl, you both are covered in juice and are grinning like mad idiots but Soap never felt lighter.

He watches you grin back at him — wide and toothy — and feels something shifting.

Maybe he’s not the pack hybrid like Ghost or doesn’t have Kyle’s easy charm or even John’s acute understanding of dynamics within the team. But he is him and it seems like that’s exactly what you need.

Few months later Soap finds himself with you nuzzled in his neck, Kyle plastered over you two like he’s a big blanket, Simon reading something in the quiet low voice of his and John already crawling into den you call bed.

It’s warm and he’s squished by people who like him from every side and he finally belongs.

Soap presses a kiss to the top of your head and smiles wide when you raise it, giving him a slow sleepy blink. His smiles are wide and toothy.

His smiles are always welcomed with his team.

And so is he.

[maskedbyghost]

You know what doesn’t get talked about enough? The classic “we hate each other but have to share a bed” trope—especially with Simon. (There are literally 92084 versions of this, but it never gets old and I want to talk about it again.)

You can’t stand him, and the feeling is mutual. But now, thanks to some messed-up circumstances, there’s only one bed, and neither of you is happy about it.

You stared at it like it had personally offended you. "I’ll take the floor."

Simon scoffed, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah? And be useless tomorrow ‘cause you slept like shit?" He shook his head. "Not happenin''."

"Then you take the floor," you shot back, knowing full well what his answer would be.

He just gave you a flat look, like you’d said something stupid. "Not a chance."

And that was how you ended up here—both lying stiff on opposite sides of the bed, a pillow shoved between you like it could fix the problem.

The room was silent except for the occasional creak of the bed frame whenever one of you shifted. You faced the wall, arms tucked tight against your chest, determined to pretend he wasn’t there. But Simon was big, and his presence was impossible to ignore. Every time he moved, you felt it. Every damn breath, every slight shift.

Then, at some point in the middle of the night, something happened. Maybe he turned in his sleep, maybe you did, but somehow there wasn’t space between you anymore. His arm, heavy and warm, draped across your waist like it belonged there. It made you freeze, barely breathing.

Carefully, you turned your head, just enough to look at him. His mask was off, of course, but the room was too dark to make out much beyond the sharp cut of his jaw and the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes were still closed—until they weren’t.

You expected him to pull away, to scoff and roll back to his side. But he didn’t. Instead, his grip tightened, pulling you closer, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Stop wrigglin’,” he murmured, tucking his face against your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “M’tryin’ to sleep here, love.”

Your heart kicked against your ribs. You wanted to argue, to shove him off, to remind him that this didn’t mean anything. But his body was warm, his hold steady, and somehow, you never got the words out.

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

i'm back and horny for this man.

@daydreamerwoah

[hearts4mica]

Tell me what to do. To make it all feel better.

What if. The Batboys find out you’ve been messing up your recipes on purpose?

Part 1 here

———————————————————————————

It was another day of baking. This time you wanted to bake something for Alfred since he was the one who taught you how to bake in the first place.

You decided to bake a vanilla cake! Alfred’s favorite of course.

So you obviously went shopping and had to sneak out since Bruce didn’t want you going out by yourself since ‘Gotham is too dangerous’ maybe it is but you’re just going to the supermarket

You bought your ingredients and decided to start baking without your brothers finding out of course you can’t let them know that you can actually bake.

After a while you finished the cake. Its pretty surprising that no one came into the kitchen! Well its pretty early on the weekend so they’re probably still sleeping.

Alfred came into the kitchen and you gave him the cake. He thanked you and grabed a piece.

But

Just at that time Damian walked into the kitchen. Just perfect.

You both just stared at eachother. While you still had your dirty apron on.

“Good morning [name] i see you baked a cake for Alfred… it smells good?” Damian said

“What does that mean Damian! Does that mean you dont like my cooking?!” You said in a dramatic way trying to get him to leave the kitchen but it obviously backfired. “I didn’t bake thi-”

And at that moment Alfred decided to betray you!

“Young Miss [name] baked me a cake Master Damian would you like to try it“ Alfred said with a smug smile he wanted for you to stop poisoning your sibling with burnt cookies.

“[name] baked it? Didn’t you said you didn’t bake it dearest sister?” Damian walks up to the cake grabs a fork and takes a small bite.

“shit…”

“Are you sure [name] baked it?” (That little shit of course you did but he can’t know that!)

“N-” “Yes” Alfred cuts you off once again.

“Oh everyone would love to hear this” he says as he leaves the room.

———————————————————————————

At dinner everyone is sitting silently esting until Damian decides to break the silence.

“Did you know that our dearest sister here [name] actually knows how to bake? In fact she baked a cake for Alfred today and it tasted great” damian said with an evilish grin.

“SHE WHAT?!”

That little snitch.

“Baby bird why would you do that?!” Dick says

Its not going to be a short dinner.

———————————————————————————

At the end of the day Bruce lectured you about it and grounded you now you have to bake something for your “brothers” atleast twice a week! And it can’t be burnt anymore what’s the fun in that?

———————————————————————————

How would they react?

Dick would be pretty upset about this i mean who wouldnt his ‘baby’ sister made her cookies bad on purpose! Were you mad at them for something? You and him are going to have a long boring fun talk

Jason would be pretty surprised that you actually were smart enough to think about this since he still sees you the way you were before his dead

Tim i feel like he already knew that since he spends so much time spying you- he actually didn’t mind the taste it kept his brain busy?

Damian was really upset his older sister gave him burnt cookies! I mean i get it with Drake, but with him your favorite brother?!

[weedpicnic]

I’m gonna derail just a little bit to tell a relevant story but do hear me out; I am 22 years old meaning I only graduated highschool like 3 years ago. I am also Canadian and attended highschool here. I DID go to primary school in America, and at least back then everybody stood for the pledge every single day. Obviously kids of that age aren’t as likely to have any sort of fully formed political opinions as older teenagers so I can’t speak for what it’s like in American highschools.

However the equivalent here in Canada, is that the national anthem plays over the loudspeakers every morning in every school, and we are all expected to stand. When I was in grade 9 I started disregarding this rule. Was this out of pure apathy rather than a particular political motivation? At first, sure, maybe. But only AT FIRST. Did it have consequences? Yes, to me, but eventually to others too. I was caught walking around during the anthem by our vice principal who already had several reasons to dislike me, and he demanded I stand still. He told me I would be pulled from class if I kept walking so I sat down on the ground in front of him while the rest of the song played. At this point it started to feel very political to me at the time, because I have a very strong general dislike for authority, I had been told I had oppositional defiance disorder. I was 14 years old and only just at the very beginning of forming my understanding radicalism/liberation. I would go to protests, why not have my own small form of protest. I didn’t yet know what I know now about canadian imperialism. I would sneer at him and tell him I wouldn’t participate for religious reasons (I am not religious lol.) I basically just knew that the same guy who would confiscate peoples weed and police the bathroom use of trans students was trying to tell me what to do as to police my bodily autonomy and movement, and I did not like that.

So, I started doing it every morning in every one of my classes, even having some of my own peers starting arguments with me about it; and then got sent to the office by an English teacher. This man was gay, liberal, and he basically told me “I know you’re trying to make a point or something, that’s cool, but, not in my classroom. If you’re gonna do that next class you can go do it in front of the office.” This was the same man who was teaching us standardized curriculum about Canadas history of indigenous genocide. This would’ve been in like, 2018.

In 2019 protests began spreading out west in British Columbia about indigenous land rights and the plan to destroy millions of huge, 100+ year old old growth trees in order to build the coastal gas link pipeline. Protesters were chaining themselves to trees until they got bulldozed and being mass arrested. The concept of protest by mass occupation became more prevalent in the media. Activist groups led by indigenous leaders and land defenders were stopping cross country freight and passenger trains by blocking the railroad. In 2020, the unmarked burial sites of thousands of murdered children, victims of the abuse within residential schools, were uncovered. Survivors started speaking up about the violence and trauma that the church and the state had inflicted on them and their family. Priests were getting sent to trial for abuse they had inflicted years and years ago.

Over the years since my freshman year I watched something… interesting happen. More students, sometimes just one or two people, small insular friend groups, but, sometimes the majority of a classroom, would also refuse to stand for the anthem. Some of them said it was because it was 9AM and they were just too tired for that shit (the anthem is a lot longer than the pledge of allegiance lol.) But this meant I no longer got shit for it because they can’t suspend almost a whole classroom of us, right?

I did a “victory lap”/fifth year there to finish up some more courses and by my last days there, no one and I mean literally fucking no one stood for the anthem anymore. It was only a few short years ago that I had been threatened with suspension over doing this, and yet at that point I could not imagine any faculty member having the gal to tell me that I simply had to stand up for the imperialist anthem knowing what we all know now. My apathy had evolved into ideology/ further understanding of what my own actions could mean. What started out of vague distain, a tendency towards disobedience, and a bit of laziness had become a small form of protest that later became the norm among the student community. It was no longer in the hands of the authority figures. And if seeing me continue to do that every day despite sometimes getting in trouble in the earlier years gave even a single one of my peers pause to stop and think about why we have to do this, why SHOULD we have to do this, why should we stand for “our home and native land” that we colonized and stole through violence and genocide, are we really “the land of the free and the home of the brave” if we hid so much of our history for so long, then, that’s not nothing, and it was worth every bit of trouble.

But here’s the even scarier part: my sister is two years younger than me and she attended the same highschool. At some point in her final year in 2023 when I was long gone I asked her what the deal was with that now, and she told me most of the students were standing for the anthem again, and that most of the people her age always had been and usually did. It was pretty much just my grade and older that had been rejecting this en masse.

There are so many studies out there indicating that the younger generation, current teens and young adults, are becoming more conservative at a faster rate. The propaganda machine doesn’t ever just stop because one group at one time and place resisted it. I grew up as someone who is has always been very outspoken and proudly transgender. So I certainly had PLENTY of adults telling me as a teenager, “your generation is going to save the world” and all that bullshit and trust me I fucking hated it. It’s absolutely infuriating and I totally sympathize with powerburials frustration. But I think regardless of whether OP is actually in fact an “embarrassingly aged millennial” (whatever that means lol) giving teenagers ideas, information, resources, big or small, of how to fight back against oppressive power is truly very very fucking important right now. Many of them want to and don’t even know why they want to and that’s okay because they will learn, but they won’t learn and many of them won’t have any place to start without the authority/adults in their life (even if that adult is simply a blog on Tumblr) pushing them in that direction. I didn’t have adults in my real life to materially do these things with me as a teen, I had other trans teens, and I had anger issues, and I had this fuckin website teaching me about communism, decolonization, mutual aid, and direct action.

My school was at the edge of a highway next to a bridge that was essential to connecting the two sides of the city. I would sneak out of class and go for cigarettes by myself and stare into the valley and feel so so angry at the government, at the world, at the medical system, and I would think about all the people who killed themself by jumping off that bridge and wonder what powers made their lives so hard for them, I would wonder if they were like me, and I would feel so, so alone. I would let the sound of the cars on the highway drown my thoughts out. A couple years after graduating I participated in a protest demanding policy reform for climate change and environmental protection that shut down this highway right in front of my high school for the entire day. I was relieved to even see a few of my former peers there, although not that many.

Today I am currently organizing a student strike at my college to demand their disclosure and divestment of funding of the genocide in Palestine. At our first walkout, the dismissal I received from so many of my peers primarily my age and younger was fucking brutal and extremely disheartening, but, we reached a lot of people. We gave people resources to learn about the issue at hand and we strengthened our movement. We will be going on strike in the next year. I have been tirelessly organizing with the help of so many volunteers from my community a fundraiser event tomorrow, which I anticipate will raise a good amount of money for Palestinians, a local food bank, and an organization that helps youth access gender affirming care. If you told that angry kid all those years ago that he would be doing these things today he very well might’ve laughed in your face, he probably would’ve thought it to be a ‘nebulous fantasy’ too.

What I would tell my 14 year old self (who I could even argue only started rejecting the anthem for attention) and what I would tell highschool aged kids everywhere who want to fight fascism and imperialism, is to start organizing locally sooner, trust that you WILL find your people and you will find strength in numbers. start online if you have to, but use these tools to connect with likeminded people in real life. Material direct action is much more important than the symbolism of rejecting participation in something you disagree with. It’s deluded to think that mutual aid and activist organizations in your community don’t exist whatsoever. But as this story hopefully sort of illustrates, symbolism is also important. Start small if you have to but don’t you dare stop there. A tree can’t grow without a seed, so plant that seed and water it. Even if you really do sometimes have to sit there sweating and embarrassed and alone. Because it is ALSO deluded to think the world doesn’t need teenagers to be doing stuff like this lest they become fascist adults as many of my own peers and so much of the younger generation unfortunately now have.

dear usamerican high schoolers looking for a way to resist fascism: sit through the pledge of allegiance.

no getting up. no looking at the flag.

everyone will be looking at you. you'll be sweating like a fucking hippopotamus. your teacher will sternly tell you to get up. you'll feel stupid and that maybe its not worth it because you're just a kid in a classroom. but I'm here to remind you that there are no real life consequences to detention. there are however real life consequences to resisting a thoughtless performance of nationalism.

[hazelira]

cravings & regrets

It was the middle of the night when you shook Heeseung awake.

"Hee," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grunted, shifting in bed. "What is it, baby?"

You hesitated briefly before softly pleading, "I want ice cream."

Heeseung groaned, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "Baby, it’s…" He unquestioningly reached for his phone on the nightstand, squinting at the time. "Three in the morning."

"And?"

His lips pressed together. He was exhausted. He’d spent all day working, running errands, making sure you were comfortable. He just wanted one night of uninterrupted sleep. "Can’t it wait until morning?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

You exhaled sharply, sitting up in bed. "Forget it," you muttered, pushing the blankets off.

Heeseung turned his head, watching you retreat to the living room. He wanted to call you back, apologize, and tell you he’d go—but his body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion.

Minutes later, Heeseung woke up to an empty bed.

His arms instinctively reached for you, but all he felt were cold sheets.

A frown tugged at his lips. Maybe you were in the washroom?

But then he heard movement from the living room.

Curious—and slightly uneasy—Heeseung pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stepped out of the bedroom.

His heart dropped at the sight before him.

You were sitting on the couch, struggling to put on your shoes. Your fingers fumbled with the laces, trembling slightly, frustration etched into every movement. Your lips were pressed together, a quiet exhale leaving them as your free hand cradled your belly.

"Please, baby, stop kicking, I know you're hungry." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Just let Mommy go get our ice cream."

Heeseung’s stomach twisted with guilt.

You were really about to go.

Alone.

At three in the morning.

Because he hadn’t listened.

"Baby."

Your hands stilled. Slowly, you turned your head, eyes meeting his.

"Heeseung, go back to bed."

He ignored your words, closing the distance between you and kneeling in front of you. His hands found yours, gently prying them away from your laces. "You were really about to go by yourself?"

You looked away. "I didn’t want to bother you anymore."

A sharp pang hit his chest.

Heeseung sighed, bringing your hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "You never bother me," he murmured.

"You were tired," you said, voice small.

"I should’ve gotten up anyway," he admitted. "You asked me for one thing, and I—" He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I’m sorry."

A beat of silence passed before you finally exhaled. "I just really wanted it, Hee."

"I know, baby," he whispered. "I’ll go get it now."

You blinked. "But—"

"No ‘buts.’ You’re not going anywhere." Heeseung gently took your jacket and shoes, returning them to the door hanger and shoe rack before returning them to you. He guided you to sit comfortably on the couch, ensuring a blanket was draped over you. "Just rest, okay? I’ll be back soon."

"…Three tubs?"

Heeseung chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Three tubs or all of them. Any flavours you want, baby."

And as he stepped out into the cold night, he made a silent promise.

No matter how tired he was, he always got up for you.

The cold night air stung Heeseung’s skin as he stepped out of the apartment complex, hoodie barely enough to shield him from the late-night chill. He exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold as he shoved his hands into his pockets and started toward the nearest convenience store.

He should have gone the first time you asked.

That thought gnawed at him the entire walk there. The image of you struggling to put on your shoes, whispering to the baby inside you, still played in his head like a bad dream.

You didn’t want to bother him anymore.

It made him feel like the worst husband in the world.

By the time he reached the store, Heeseung was already pulling out his phone, scrolling through your texts in search of past cravings. He knew you liked vanilla, but you swore by chocolate some days. Then there was the weird strawberry and caramel combination you’d been obsessed with last month.

"Hey, man, you good?"

The cashier, a tired-looking guy around his age, raised an eyebrow as Heeseung stood frozen in the ice cream aisle, staring at the tubs like they held the answers to life itself.

"My wife’s pregnant," Heeseung explained, running a hand through his hair. "I messed up, and I need to fix it."

The cashier let out a knowing chuckle. "Ah, cravings. Been there, man. Just get one of each."

Heeseung blinked, then nodded quickly. "Right. One of each."

Moments later, he walked out of the store with a bag full of ice cream tubs—French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mango, salted caramel, and even cookies and cream, just in case. It was excessive, sure, but after tonight? He’d rather be safe than sorry.

When Heeseung returned home, the living room was quiet.

You were curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled up to your chin, eyes closed. Your breathing was steady, but your brows were still slightly furrowed, like you hadn’t fully relaxed even in your sleep.

Heeseung’s heart clenched.

Carefully, he set the bag down in the kitchen before reaching you. He crouched beside the couch, brushing a gentle hand over your hair. "Baby," he murmured.

You stirred, letting out a sleepy hum.

"I got your ice cream," he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open, still groggy. "…You did?"

Heeseung nodded, smiling softly. "Five tubs. Every flavour you like."

A small, sleepy laugh escaped you. "Five?"

"I didn’t wanna risk getting the wrong ones," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just wanted to make sure you had what you wanted."

Your gaze softened as you reached up to cup his cheek. "Thank you, Hee."

Heeseung leaned into your touch, exhaling slowly. "I’m sorry for earlier," he murmured. "I should’ve gotten up the first time you asked. You shouldn’t have felt like you had to go alone."

You were silent for a moment before shaking your head. "I was just… frustrated," you admitted quietly. "The cravings are bad, and the baby kicking didn’t help. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty."

Heeseung sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Still. I never want you to feel like you can’t ask me for things. You and our baby come first, always."

Your fingers traced light patterns on his cheek. "You got up in the middle of the night for me."

He huffed a soft laugh. "Of course I did. I’ll do it again if I have to."

You smiled, your eyes filled with warmth now. "You’re the best husband."

Heeseung grinned. "I know."

You rolled your eyes playfully before murmuring, "Can we eat the ice cream now?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing up. "Yeah, baby. Let me get you a spoon."

And as he watched you sit up, eyes lighting up at the sight of the ice cream tubs, Heeseung knew—no matter how exhausted he was, no matter what time it was—he’d do this for you again in a heartbeat.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap as Heeseung set the ice cream tubs in front of you. Your eyes sparkled with satisfaction as you reached for the first tub, quickly scooping a spoonful into a bowl.

"Wait," Heeseung murmured, watching you with an amused smile. "You're mixing all of them?"

You nodded, barely paying him attention as you grabbed another scoop—French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mango, salted caramel, cookies and cream. Each melted slightly into the next, creating a chaotic blend of colours and flavours.

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, shaking his head. "That’s insane."

You glanced up at him with a teasing smirk. "And yet, I’m the one carrying your baby, craving insane things."

He laughed, stretching an arm over the back of the couch as he watched you take the first bite. The second the spoon hit your tongue, you let out a slight, satisfied hum, your body visibly relaxing as the craving was finally happy.

"Is that good?" Heeseung asked, his voice softer now and filled with quiet fondness.

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "So good."

Heeseung chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Glad to know my lack of sleep was worth it."

You cracked one eye open, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll make it up to you."

"You already did," he murmured, gaze flickering down to your belly. "By giving me our baby."

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, the exhaustion, cravings, and frustration from earlier faded into something warm, something safe.

"You wanna try?" you asked, holding the spoon to him.

Heeseung grimaced playfully. "I don’t know if I trust that combination."

You rolled your eyes, scooping another bite and holding it closer. "Come on, Hee. For me?"

He groaned dramatically before leaning in, letting you feed him. The moment the flavours hit his tongue, his face twisted in confusion.

"Yeah, no," he muttered after swallowing. "That is not a normal mix."

You giggled, licking the spoon yourself. "More for me, then."

Heeseung just shook his head, smiling as he watched you eat.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. "Hey."

You glanced at him. "Hmm?"

"Promise me next time you want something this bad, you’ll wake me up again," he murmured, reaching for your free hand and lacing his fingers through yours. "Even if I grumble or complain, just wake me up."

Your fingers squeezed his. "I promise."

And with that, Heeseung relaxed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as you continued eating.

Even if he lost sleep every night for the rest of your pregnancy, it would still be worth it—because he’d do anything for you and the little life you were bringing into the world together.

As the minutes ticked by, the ice cream in your bowl slowly melted into a sugary swirl, but you were too full to finish it. You sighed contentedly, setting the spoon down with a soft clink.

"Done?" Heeseung asked, peering at your half-empty bowl.

You nodded, stretching your arms with a sleepy hum. "I think I ate too fast," you admitted, rubbing your belly.

Heeseung chuckled, gently reaching out to place his palm over your bump. "You okay, baby?" he murmured, not just to you but to the tiny life growing inside you.

As if in response, a slight kick nudged against his hand.

His eyes widened slightly before his lips curled into the softest smile. "Still active, huh?"

You giggled. "I think they liked the ice cream."

Heeseung kept his hand there, thumb rubbing slow circles against your stomach. He looked so in awe—like feeling his child move inside you was the most incredible thing in the world.

A lump formed in your throat.

You had moments like this before, but something about how he looked at you now—completely present, entirely yours—made you emotional.

"Hee," you whispered.

He glanced up at you, eyes warm and full of love. "Yeah?"

You swallowed, your free hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "I love you."

His expression softened even more, and without hesitation, he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. It was slow, full of silent apologies and promises, the kind of kiss that made you forget everything else.

"I love you too," he whispered against your lips. "So much."

You smiled, feeling sleepier by the second.

Heeseung noticed. "Come on," he murmured, carefully setting your bowl aside before helping you. "Let’s go to bed."

"But I was comfy here," you whined playfully.

Heeseung rolled his eyes fondly. "Yeah? You’re gonna be comfier in bed, baby."

You let him lead you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as he guided you back to your shared bedroom. Once you were under the blankets, he climbed beside you, immediately pulling you close.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state.

"Wake me up if you need anything," Heeseung murmured, lips brushing against your forehead.

You hummed sleepily. "Even if it’s for ice cream?"

"Even if it’s for ice cream," he confirmed, his arms tightening around you.

And with that, you drifted off, safe and warm in your husband’s embrace, knowing that no matter what—no matter how exhausted he was—he’d always take care of you.

The following day, Heeseung woke up before you.

It wasn’t intentional—he just happened to stir before the alarm, eyes fluttering open to the early sunlight filtering through the curtains. He first noticed the warmth pressed against him, your body curled into his side, one hand resting over his chest.

A lazy smile tugged at his lips.

You were still asleep, breathing slowly and steadily, and your face was peaceful in the soft morning glow. Heeseung’s heart swelled at the sight, and he carefully shifted to kiss your forehead, not wanting to wake you yet.

Last night’s events played in his mind, and he sighed quietly.

He still felt guilty for not getting up the first time you asked. He hated that you’d been so desperate for something as simple as ice cream that you were willing to go alone in the middle of the night despite how exhausted and uncomfortable you must have been.

Heeseung promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen again.

Careful not to disturb you, he slipped out of bed, padding into the kitchen. The ice cream tubs were still in the freezer, untouched, except for the ones you ate. Heeseung smirked, shaking his head at the ridiculous amount of flavours he had bought.

He could already imagine you teasing him about it later.

Instead of thinking too hard, he started preparing breakfast—something light but comforting. He knew your appetite had been over the place lately, so he settled on making soft scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a small fruit bowl.

As he moved around the kitchen, he kept stealing glances toward the bedroom, listening for any signs of you waking up. He wanted you to sleep as much as possible. You deserved it after last night.

Just as he was about to pour you a glass of water, he heard soft footsteps.

Turning around, he saw you standing in the doorway, hair messy from sleep, eyes still half-lidded. You were wearing one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves covering your hands, making you look even smaller despite your growing belly.

His heart squeezed at the sight.

"Morning, baby," Heeseung greeted, voice gentle.

You yawned, rubbing your eyes before blinking at him. "You left the bed."

He chuckled, setting the glass down before walking over to you. "Just to make breakfast." He reached out, pulling you close so he could press a kiss to your temple. "How’re you feeling?"

You leaned into him, arms looping around his waist. "Better. Still tired."

"Go sit down," he murmured, rubbing your back. "I’ll bring your food."

You didn’t protest, letting him guide you to a chair at the dining table. Heeseung placed the plate in front of you before sitting across from you, watching you take your first bite.

The second you let out a pleased hum, Heeseung felt his shoulders relax.

"Good?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, chewing happily. "You take such good care of me, Hee."

Heeseung’s heart melted at your words. Reaching across the table, he took your free hand in his, squeezing gently.

"Always," he murmured.

And in that quiet morning light, as you shared breakfast together, Heeseung knew it would always be worth it no matter how exhausted or inconvenient.

You sighed happily, the warm breakfast filling you with much-needed comfort. Heeseung sat across from you, his hand still holding yours as if he didn’t want to let go. You knew he felt guilty about last night, even if he hadn’t said it outright.

"Hee," you murmured between bites.

He looked up from his plate. "Yeah?"

You gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. "You don’t have to feel bad about last night."

His lips parted slightly like he was about to protest, but you beat him to it.

"I get it," you continued. "You were tired. I was just being stubborn." You poked at your eggs with your fork, feeling a little embarrassed now that you were thinking about it with a clearer head. "I should’ve waited until morning instead of trying to go out alone."

Heeseung exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. "Still," he murmured, eyes filled with guilt, "I don’t like the thought of you struggling alone, even if it’s over something small. You’re carrying our baby, Y/N. I want to be there for you—even when I’m half-asleep and grumpy."

Your chest ached at his sincerity.

"You are here for me," you reassured him. "Always. You came through last night, didn’t you?"

Heeseung let out a soft chuckle. "After being a pain in the ass about it."

You smiled, lifting his hand to press a kiss against his knuckles. "I love you—even when you’re a pain."

His expression softened, and before you could react, he was out of his chair, crouching beside you. He rested his forehead gently against your belly, hands cradling your sides.

"And I love you," he whispered, speaking to you and the little life inside you. "Both of you."

Your throat tightened, and you were overwhelmed with emotion. You ran your fingers through his soft hair, letting the moment linger.

Then, Heeseung pulled away just enough to look up at you, a teasing glint in his tired eyes.

"…So, no more midnight ice cream runs?"

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. "I mean… I can’t promise that."

He groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto your lap while you giggled, fingers still tangled in his hair.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," he muttered against the fabric of your hoodie.

Despite his complaint, you knew—without a doubt—he’d do it all over again if you asked.

Because Heeseung loved you.

And he would always choose you.

requested by: @leilamaybelyla

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[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗜’𝗩𝗘 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗗 lando norris x  fem! reader (angst) fic summary . . . Lando's playboy image has everyone, including yourself, convinced he's just another guy who sleeps around, until he finally opens up about his feelings that is (482 words)

( my master list | more of lando norris ) ( requests )

There was a sharp edge to your voice tonight. Lando had heard you angry before, but never like this. Never when it was aimed at him.

“You know what, Lando?” you snapped, arms crossed as you stood in his hotel room. “Why don’t you go find some random girl and fuck your feelings out like you always do?”

Lando flinched like you’d struck him.

You didn’t even see it. Or maybe you did, but you didn’t care—not in the heat of the moment. Not when he’d been pissing you off all night, poking at you, pushing, teasing like always, but this time it was different. This time it hurt, and you didn’t even know why.

Lando let out a short laugh, but there was nothing funny about it. “Is that really what you think of me?”

You scoffed. “Everyone knows, Lando. It’s not exactly a secret.”

Everyone. Social media. The paddock. The world.

Everyone had an opinion about him. About the playboy image, about the girls, about the headlines. He knew what people said. Knew what they thought.

But he never thought you believed it.

Lando exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His voice was quieter now, strained. “You really think I just sleep around with random girls?”

You shrugged, still defensive. “I mean… yeah?”

And fuck—something inside him cracked.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his whole body taut like a string pulled too tight. His throat was burning, his heart was pounding, and suddenly, the words he’d been burying for years clawed their way up his throat.

“I don’t.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“I don’t sleep around,” Lando bit out. His voice shook, but he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. “Because the only girl I have ever wanted is you.”

The air in the room changed.

You blinked, lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

Lando let out a breath, shaking his head. “God, do you have any idea what it’s like?” His voice wavered now, and fuck, his eyes were stinging. “To be so fucking in love with you that it hurts?”

He laughed bitterly, swiping at his face. “I can’t even look at another girl because no one—no one—could ever compare to you. And yet, here you are, shouting at me, looking at me like I’m some kind of—some kind of fucking stranger.”

You still weren’t saying anything.

“Jesus, Yn,” Lando whispered, voice thick with emotion. “You’re tearing me apart.”

His chest felt tight, too tight, like his ribs couldn’t contain everything inside him anymore. Like it was all breaking apart and you were just standing there, watching him bleed.

Silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating.

And then, finally, your lips parted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“…You love me?”

Lando huffed out a breath, looking away as a tear slipped down his cheek. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“Just—just forget it,” he mumbled. “I’ll go.”

And then he turned, chest tight, hands trembling—because if he stayed, if he looked at you for even a second longer, he was pretty sure his heart would never recover.

[revelboo]

Great monarch Revelboo if I ask you nicely could you please assign me a mech to cuddle 🥰 I can’t decide who I would want to cuddle with the most! Which mechs would enjoy it the most and which would enjoy it but refuse to admit it? ty ty you are the best 👑

Ahh! Love this 💕

Cuddle Time Headcanons

ES Wheeljack

- tries his hardest to convince you that you don’t actually want to cuddle with him. Painfully awkward guy, but he just gives up and allows it if you insist. Secretly loves it even if he’s embarassed

• Optics wide, he freezes when you just climb up into his lap and sit down. Like you belong there. And then you’re leaning into him and he hears Elita and Optimus make noises that sound suspiciously like badly suppressed laughter. Surely you’d rather sit with someone else? No? Embarrassed enough even before you lean into him with a happy little sigh. Venting softly, he loosely drapes a hand against you, freezing when you latch onto a servo and snuggle against his palm. Apparently no one wants to help him and he has no idea why you’ve latched onto him. Chosen him as your protector and safe spot. And okay, maybe it makes warmth spread through him, makes him want to protect you. But they’re all still staring at him and not even hiding that they think it’s funny. They have to realize he’s not cut out for this.

Bluestreak

- aware that he can be clingy, but if you encourage or just don’t tell him to stop, he just wants to cuddle with you.

• Servos flexing because you’d gone to sleep curled in your nest of blankets while he’d been out too late. And knows he shouldn’t disturb you when you look so relaxed, but still slides his servos under you. Hears the soft, sleepy sound you make, head lifting before you realize it’s him and relax in his hands. Lying down curled on his side, he cuddles you up against his chassis and folds his door wings out behind him. Cups a hand against you, chin tucked against his chassis and legs drawn up until he’s curled around you as much as he can. Letting the warmth of you keep the nightmares at bay.

Swerve

- if you give him permission to cuddle or just seek out his body heat, he’s all for it. But the narrative in his head is probably that you’re deeply, madly in love with him, not just cold

• Startling when you drape yourself against him, eyes closed and making a pitiful little noise of misery, he mass shifts for you, arms open wide. “Cold again?” He asks, feeling almost guilty that he’d been cutting down the temperature in his habsuite on purpose just so you’d curl up against him. And you just sprawl in his arms, letting him wrap himself around you. “I’ll file a complaint with Mags, let him know there’s something wrong with the heat again,” he lies, resting his chin on top of your head. And it’s just a little, bitty lie. You understand, right? Getting used to the pulse of his spark just like he’s used to the beat of your heart. And pretending you’re his, that you want to be in his arms. That you know you belong right here.

Jazz

- wants you to read one of your smutty books to him, promising he’ll behave while you sprawl on top of him

• “Hand,” you mutter as he drapes a hand over you, one servo on your butt. “Jazz.” And his crooked grin is completely unapologetic. Even if he’d promised to behave. Huffing, you flip open the book to the page you’d folded the corner of the night before. You swear he likes these cheesy romance novels more than you do as you begin to read to him, relaxing with the feel of his warmth against you, sprawled on him.

Hound

- wants to share with you the vast, green world outside the Ark. To curl up with you by a lake and relax

• “Oh.” The area’s heavily wooded, sun lancing through the leaves to dapple the mass shifted mech in gold as you look from him to the calm lake. Realizing that he’s sharing this with you, something that matters to him and his arms come around you, tugging you back into his frame. And you relax, feeling the heat of the sun and warmth of the mech at your back. “It’s beautiful.” Playing with his servos as his chin rests on top of your head.

TFA Bulkhead

- big, awkward guy. Lets you sprawl on top of him, a big hand draped over you as you both watch TV and whisper (and Sari and Bee both complain)

• Laughing as he slowly goes over backwards and you end up sprawled on top of him, he drapes a big hand over you, head back to watch the TV upside down. Laying your chin on him as a big servo runs between your shoulder blades, you can hear Sari and Bee’s loud ‘ewww’ at you both. It’s not like you’re making out, but they’re carrying on like you are and you reach to touch Bulkhead’s chin. Relaxed and comfortable where you are.

Armada Starscream

- wouldn’t admit that he needs the feel of you, your scent and warmth against him to be able to recharge. If you want to cuddle up against him, he allows it. Won’t ask for it even though a part of him loves it

• Venting he doesn’t resist when you and the mini-cons all sprawl on him. There’s no fighting it at this point, acting as your bed. Suspects you’re only after his warmth, but he doesn’t really mind having you there. Recharges better knowing where you are, feeling your heart beating against him. Because this is as close to home and family as he’s had in forever. Wants to protect this feeling, to hold onto it.

[nitadllyss]

Waking up next to your boyfriend

-maknae line x reader -

hyung line here

Genre: Fluff, Headcanon, Very sweet

Warnings: none

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

Han Jisung:

• He’s a sleeping princess; he always looks so soft and fluffy that you have to hold yourself back from biting his cheeks or kissing the little pout his slightly open lips form.

• He needs to feel your warmth as close as possible and can’t sleep unless he’s holding you.

• Your head rests on his chest while his arms wrap around your waist, his legs tangled with yours (more like he has you locked up).

• He feels so warm—he’s basically a human heater.

• When the alarm goes off, he wakes up with a scared expression. It takes him a few blinks and about four seconds to process that he’s a living being. He turns off the alarm and immediately falls back asleep.

• When you wake up, you see his sweet sleeping face, which contrasts with how tightly his strong arms are holding you.

• "Sungie," you whisper as you snuggle further into his chest.

• He shows no signs of life, so you start leaving kisses on his collarbone and neck, making his skin shiver as he slowly wakes up.

• You laugh at his failed attempts to kiss your lips until he finally cups your cheeks and gives you a sweet kiss.

• "There’s no need to go to work today, did you know that?" he says with a silly, playful smile, winking at you.

• "Actually, Chan will kill you if you skip the recording today," you reply teasingly as you try to get up, but his whining stops you.

• You give in and lay back down with him for about three more minutes, waiting for him to wake up (he falls asleep again).

• Noticing this, you sigh and get up. When you turn on the light, he covers his eyes with the blanket and complains about how hard his life is (bro, you just have to go to work).

• He desperately tries to convince you to go back to sleep with him. "Babe, come back, let’s sleep a little more," he says in a whiny voice.

• After realizing his pleas aren’t working, he gives up and, still half-asleep, gets ready for work. He doesn’t even notice he put his hoodie on inside out.

Felix:

• He’s asleep on your chest, holding his game controller. The sound of the game is still faintly playing, but he’s already out cold, mouth open. He stayed up late trying to level up (he didn’t make it).

• Light starts filtering through the small gaps in the curtains, illuminating his freckles like tiny sunbeams on his soft face.

• When the alarm goes off, you stretch slightly to turn it off. Felix is so deeply asleep that he doesn’t even hear it.

• You chuckle at how exhausted he looks; he’s like a little kid. You can’t resist taking pictures.

• You kiss his cheek and notice how, unconsciously, the corner of his lips curls into a small, sweet smile.

• "Lix, baby, we need to wake up," you whisper while kissing every single one of his freckles.

• "I have to give you back each and every kiss first," he mumbles in his deep, raspy morning voice, barely opening one eye as he smiles widely.

• After kissing literally every part of your face, he gets up and, while getting ready, tells you how hard it is to level up in his game.

Seungmin:

• He’s slightly on top of you, just enough to bury his face in the crook of your neck while his hands squeeze you as if he’d die if he let go.

• He loves the scent of your body lotion and shampoo. He’s exactly where he wants to be.

• You never wake up before him; it’s way too comfortable by his side to do so.

• When the alarm goes off, he quickly turns it off, trying not to disturb you, but it’s too late—the noise already woke you up.

• "Good morning, Minnie," you say with a smile as you see his messy hair. He’s usually such a perfectionist that seeing him like this feels like a precious sight.

• He buries his face back into your neck, and you can feel his warm breath as he smiles.

• "You don’t have to wake up, go back to sleep," he mumbles in his groggy voice before giving you a soft kiss on the jawline and adjusting to look at you. God, he looks so cute.

• He stretches like a puppy, getting his body ready for the long day ahead.

• He teases you for staring at him in awe. "Hey, close your mouth, or you’re gonna start drooling," he chuckles as you quickly shut your mouth and frown.

• Eventually, he gets up to start his day. Of course, he’d love to stay with you all day, but he knows responsibilities matter.

• He shares company gossip with you while brushing his teeth (you only understand half of it). Before leaving, he asks if he looks good. He looks incredible.

I.N:

• The boys would die of jealousy if they saw this.

• He’s the big spoon, sleeping with his chest pressed against your back. He can’t help but be obsessed with the scent of your hair. His hands are intertwined with yours, and his head rests softly on top of yours.

• He woke up to the sound of the alarm, blinking a few times before turning it off. Once he does, he settles back into position, soaking in the comfort of your warmth.

• You start stretching and turn around to face him. How can he look this cute right after waking up? He looks like he just walked out of a photoshoot.

• His eyes meet yours, filled with warmth; they reflect all the love he feels for you. He’s not the best with words, so you’ve learned to read his gaze. "Did you sleep well?" he asks, smiling and showing his dimples.

• "Mhm, very comfy," you reply, kissing the corner of his eye and watching as his dimples deepen even more.

• He rolls his eyes with a fake pout, but he’s definitely melting inside.

• You laugh and make an offended face, and he responds by kissing the corner of your eye before pulling you into one last hug before getting up.

• After showering, you pass by the bathroom and see him doing his skincare routine. You can’t resist sneaking in to give him a kiss on the neck before letting him continue in peace, watching his face turn bright red.

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

I hope you liked the headcanons! I'll probably do these very often. 🤭

English is not my first language, so if you see a mistake, let me know.🙏🏻🫶🏻

Tag: @emilyywhyy

[soangelbaby]

ও need your kids ; jensen ackles

“. . . have a baby by me, baby be a billionaire . . .”

jensen grips your hips, lifting you slightly off the bed to remove your white lace panties. “you want my babies huh?” he smirked, lining his dick up at the slit of your already leaking pussy. he didn’t slide in immediately, instead he teased you, brushing his tip lightly against your soaking folds. you didn’t answer, just reached up gripping his shirt, “jensen—fuck please..” you moaned as you watched him play in your juices. he always went for games, always made you beg, with him nothing ever came easy. why would this be any different?

“please what baby? tell me what you need, i can’t read your mind.” he snickers, his hands travel up your body, stopping just at the curve of your waist. his eyes were locked on you, he loved the sight of you so desperate and needy for him, so vulnerable, he could keep you like this forever. “please nut in me, fill me up, want all of you.” you breathed out, your fingers curling around the fabric of his shirt. jensen let out a low chuckle before leaning down to kiss you sloppily, he moved down to your neck sucking on your sweet spot. your polished nails clawed at his back as you felt his dick at your entrance again, but this time he slips in—no warning.

“f-fuck yes, jensen.” you moan out, feeling his dick veins rub against your walls, you could hear how wet you were for him, each thrust drawing everything out of you. his face was still buried in your neck, nipping and biting at the skin there, you were sure a hickey was already forming. “that’s it, take it all. let’s see if i can finally knock you up this time, yeah?” he groans against you, your stomach does flips as you let his words sink in. you wanted it so bad, no—you needed it, needed to see his cum leaking out of you, needed to milk him completely until he had nothing left to give, you wanted every single drop.

“mhm, baby—ugh—need all of it.” you arch into him, his dick repeatedly hitting your g-spot. his pace is brutal, relentless, there’s nothing soft about the way he’s fucking you, like he’s trying to bury himself so far you’ll never get him out. his fingers press against your lower belly, feeling every inch of himself there, how deep he’s buried inside you. “you feel that, baby? feel how deep i am? you’re gonna take all of it.” his voice low, thick with possession as he spreads your thighs wider for him, nearly behind your head. you nod, lips parting, but no words come out—just a breathy, wrecked little whine. your hands gripping his arms, fingertips leaving little crescents in his skin as his dick twitches inside of you. your legs lock around his waist and his thrusts become harsher, more punishing.

“shit babydoll, so tight and swollen for me.” jensen growls into your mouth. “tell me how bad you want my seed baby, tell me how bad you want me to make you a mommy, gonna fucking ruin you for anyone else.” his hand slips down between you to trace lazy circles over your clit, making your hips jolt. the added sensation is enough to send you over the edge, your entire body trembles beneath him, drawing a loud throaty whine from you. “there it is, such a good girl. taking my dick so well, this pretty pussy is all mine.” his weight is firm, pinning you in place as he ruts into you with reckless abandon. his lips drag along your jawline, breath hot against your skin—and then you feel it. the warm liquid shooting into you, coating your walls, and a guttural moan escapes jensen’s lips, rumbling against your skin. your walls clench around him, keeping his nut inside, it flooding you, spilling so deep into your spent little pussy.

“now get ready for another one, i’m not pulling out until i know it stuck kay? you wanted me raw, right baby?”

☆ rini’s note ; thought of this listening to 50 cent last night, it’s a little rushed and not really proofread js bc i was excited ???? idk enjoy or don’t ;) tho likes + reblogs are so so appreciated!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: “Sealed with a Ring”

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1,267

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Summary: After secretly eloping a year ago, Paige and Reader have kept their marriage under wraps, but anniversaries and memories are to good not to share...

Paige and I had never been the type to do things traditionally.

Our love story started in a way that felt effortless, like the universe had been waiting for us to finally meet. Four years together and a year secretly married, we were as solid as ever, even if the rest of the world didn’t know.

And honestly? We liked it that way.

Our elopement had been quiet, intimate, and perfect—just us, a small ceremony with our closest friends and family, and matching simple bands that had symbolized our commitment long before we’d made it official.

But of course, Paige being Paige, she had still surprised me months later with a stunning diamond ring.

“For when you want something a little flashier,” she’d said, slipping it onto my finger before I had a chance to argue.

I had worn it, but never in the traditional way. It was either looped onto a delicate gold chain around my neck or sitting comfortably on my left middle finger. It kept people from asking too many questions, and since no one suspected we were already married, it was easier that way.

Still, Paige was patient. She never pushed, never questioned why I wasn’t ready to show off what was already ours.

Until today.

It was our first wedding anniversary.

Four years together, one year of marriage, and not a single regret.

Paige had planned a perfect day—brunch at our favorite spot, a cozy afternoon at home watching old highlights of each other’s games, and now, a quiet dinner just the two of us.

“You’re staring,” I teased, setting down my fork as Paige’s eyes lingered on me.

She smirked, twirling her wine glass between her fingers. “Can’t help it. My wife is beautiful.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks, even after all this time. “You’ve been calling me your wife all day.”

“Because you are,” she said simply, reaching for my hand across the table. “And I think it’s time the rest of the world knows it too.”

I knew what she meant before she even said it.

She wanted us to finally share our rings. To stop hiding.

To be seen.

I swallowed, glancing at my hand where my band rested snugly against my skin. I wasn’t afraid of people knowing. It was just… ours. Private.

But when I looked up at Paige, her expression soft and patient, I realized something.

I wasn’t scared of sharing.

I just needed the right moment.

And what better time than now?

“Okay,” I said finally, squeezing her hand. “Let’s do it.”

Her eyes lit up, and before I knew it, she was pulling out her phone.

The Instagram story went up within minutes.

It was a simple photo—our hands intertwined, matching wedding bands gleaming under the dim lighting of the restaurant. The caption?

One year married, four years of love.💕

We didn’t think much of it.

But the internet did.

By the time we got home, social media was in shambles.

TikTok was exploding.

Fan edits popped up within minutes, clips of us laughing on the court, walking together on campus, sharing subtle touches during interviews—all set to emotional background music.

One video had nearly 500k views already, with the caption:

PAIGE AND Y/N WERE MARRIED THIS WHOLE TIME?!??

The comments were even wilder:

• “THEY’RE WIVES? NO ONE TALK TO ME.”

• “I KNEW THOSE MATCHING BANDS MEANT SOMETHING.”

• “This is the greatest plot twist in UConn history.”

Instagram and X weren’t much better.

Our post was reshared thousands of times, with people dissecting every little detail. Theories ran wild—how long had we been married? Who knew? Did Coach Geno officiate the wedding? (Spoiler: No, but the idea was hilarious.)

Even the WNBA’s official account got in on the fun, commenting:

Well, well, well… look who decided to tell us. Congrats, you two.

Paige was lying on the couch, scrolling through her phone with a giant grin while I sat cross-legged on the floor, watching the chaos unfold.

“This is insane,” I muttered, watching another TikTok fly past my screen.

Paige chuckled. “You’re the one who agreed to post it.”

I sighed dramatically, flopping against her legs. “Yeah, yeah. I just didn’t expect people to react like this.”

Her fingers ran through my hair, soothing. “Do you regret it?”

I turned my head to look up at her, taking in the way her blue eyes softened.

“No,” I admitted. “I think I like it.”

She beamed. “Good, because there’s no going back now.”

The next morning, the media frenzy had only intensified.

Even our teammates were clowning us in the group chat.

Icey B: Y’ALL REALLY JUST DROPPED THAT AND WENT TO BED????

Hey Arnold: I BEEN KNEW but I’m still screaming.

Z²: Not y’all making it sound like a press release 😭 “one year married, four years of love” lmao.

Sar bear: Geno is gonna have QUESTIONS.

P boogs: 🤷🏼‍♀️

I laughed, tossing my phone onto the bed. “Our teammates are so dramatic.”

Paige flopped onto the mattress beside me, her arm draping over my waist. “They love us. The fans love us.” She kissed my temple. “And I love you.”

I sighed happily, turning to bury my face in her neck. “Love you too, Mrs. Bueckers.”

She hummed. “Say that again.”

“Mrs. Bueckers,” I teased.

Paige grinned, tightening her hold on me. “Best thing I’ve ever heard, Mrs. Bueckers.”

And just like that, the whole world knew.

But at the end of the day, it didn’t change a thing.

Paige was mine.

I was hers.

And that was all that mattered.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ݁˖ 𝕷IKE THAT ᝰ! D.A.

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ synopsis: you were dani’s favourite, you knew that. of all the girls and guys she had, she always came back to you. but lately, you’ve found yourself detaching from the fwb arrangement; staying out late more and dodging her calls, but she’s determined to have you back to her--'cause all those girls (they don’t) know what you need

warnings: angst, slight!nsfw, sexual content mentioned, toxic!dani, straight men (ew), eventual fluff, would turn into series

turntable now playing: like that - babymonster

“You’ve reached y/n’s cell! I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message after the--” What the fuck. What the actual fuck. This was the fourth call you haven’t picked up tonight. Daniela wasn’t just growing impatient, she was livid.

You and Daniela met in college, your roommate, Lara always hung around this group of girls you would eventually befriend.

You met Sophia first, the ambitious go-getter with a type of energy you always struggled to keep up with. Then came Megan, who introduced you to the deep, relaxing world of Yacht rock. The two of you shared a deep love for tanning in the Hawaiian sun and loving alternative fashion.

Third was Yoonchae; she was quiet, a complimentary presence contrary to the chaotic energy the other three brought.

It was through Manon--whom was the smartest, and the most well-versed woman you knew--did you come to meet Daniela. You were trying to get French lessons from Manon, who was somewhat fluent in French (and 16 other languages), and you’d see her roommate loitering around the dorm.

And with knowing Daniela came succumbing to her charm.

Very charismatic, but had little heart for good intentions. You knew she had a deck of names just on her phone. You knew she could just phone up whomever she’d wanted, and they would come, but you didn’t care. It felt too good when you had her attention alone, when she wouldn’t care if her phone pinged when you were making out in her mustang at the top of the couple go-to of all LA’s trails.

“You’ve reached y/n’s cell! I can’t come to the phone right now, but--” Daniela chucked her phone into the passenger seat beside her, running a hand through her hair. Fifth time without an answer. You’ve never done this before.

She was making all kinds of reason as to why you’d go mia:

a) You could be mad at her. The last time the two of you were hanging out, alone, she did leave you in her room high and dry when she got a call from Caleb and his drinking buddies. She assured you she owed the guys a round of drinks for helping her cheat on her mid-term the week earlier, but you were not happy, and definitely worried about Manon coming home.

b) Maybe you’d found someone else. After weeks of playing this push and pull game with you, Daniela got really drunk one night and didn’t feel like arguing when you began scolding her for standing you up and didn’t even bother texting. She flat out told you, “move on then. nobody’s making you stay, so what’s stopping you?” It was harsh, but the two of you never spoke of that night. Maybe you finally listened to that advice.

c) You died. There were no other options. You had to be dead.

Daniela had never felt so out of control before. She prided herself in being able to string boys and girls along with just her pinkie finger. She never committed to anybody, she loved toying with her roster more than anything.

But every time she’d end things with her other flings, she’d come back to you without fail.

And she would praise you, whether she’d be making her mark on you or taking you out for some fancy meal she wouldn’t let you pay for, she’d make sure to make you feel special.

Until she found the next woman who wanted to make her the ultimate bi-curious experiment, or the group of frat guys who wanted to “just go out and party it up” with her alone.

You weren’t exactly bothered by it at first, you were thankful you got even that shred of her attention. But the more you fooled around, the more you worried for her when Manon would call you late to ask if you knew where she was; or when she’d abruptly leave a hang-out she asked for to go party. When you confided in Lara, the only person beyond the two of you who knew of the situation, she reminded you of the lineup you had waiting for you before Daniela came into your life.

You were young, beautiful, and full of life. Why get weighed down by somebody as careless and immature as Daniela?

So you started hanging out with your friends more again. Lara and Manon would drag you out to the most exclusive nightclubs and bars around LA, some other nights Sophia and Yoonchae would bring you out on movie nights and have takeout and play games all night. On weekends, Megan would take you out on long drives along the coast of Californian beaches, spending hours working on your tan and basking in the sun until both of you had bikini lines along your chest.

Daniela was no longer a priority in your life, like you in hers.

“You’ve reached y/n’s cell! I can’t come to the phone right now, but please leave a message after the beep--” Sixth attempt in, she can’t bring herself to end the call anymore.

Daniela was definitely going through the five stages of grief; denial, anger--now, bargaining.

She thought hard, really hard about all the people you’ve been spending more time with lately. She knew you and the girls were together a lot, but she also remembered this new guy who often popped up on your phone recently; Jay.

Jay frequented the gym you worked out at, he had the sexiest smirk you had ever seen on a man.

Daniela knew. She had briefly tried flirting with Jay once. She was at lunch with some of the friends she knew through Heeseung and Kai, and Jay pretty much sat and looked pretty. He kept to himself and Daniela loved a challenge, so she tried hitting on him. Alas, he turned down her advances, and now she knew why--‘cuz he was dead set on you.

She knew you better than that. She knew you had to be doing this to piss her off; and god damn it, it’s working.

“Hello?” It took her a minute to actually register you had picked up--the seventh call, the seventh time she’d clicked on your name, the seventh time she told herself she was acting far too desperate for her own liking.

“Where the fuck have you been?” was the first thing that came out of her mouth, “I’ve been calling your call all night, I thought I was gonna come by tonight.”

She could hear a busy party on your other end of the line.

“Sorry, Sophia and I met up with some friends. What’s up?”

“Friends? Like who? What club are you at right now, I’ll pull up,” Daniela started her car, hearing her engine roar.

“I--Okay, wait, I’m sorry, Dani, can we talk later?” you apologized quickly. Daniela could hear the sound of a man’s voice faintly, and before she could protest, you ended the call.

“Come on, screenager, I thought we were unplugging tonight.” You follow your gaze, met with a tall, muscular build before you with two drinks in his hands. He’s staring at you, and when his eyes lock with yours, you feel a flash of something—interest.

You’re not sure why, but you felt hesitant. The thought of talking to someone new—someone not Daniela—felt foreign. But you shoved it aside, forcing yourself to smile as you shoved your phone back into your pocket, taking the drink.

“Sorry, just a concerned roommate,” you lied, trying to keep your voice steady. Why the hell does it feel this complicated?

“Lara, right?” he asks, “I share a lecture with her. She’s cool.”

You nod, conversing mindlessly. You exchange small talk for a few minutes, but your mind keeps drifting. There’s this nagging thought at the back of your mind—Daniela.

It doesn’t help that you saw she had tried to reach you six times before you picked up. She’d been calling, texting, and you—well, you just couldn’t deal with it. You were thankful for the loud music and strong stench of sweat and hormones, you could barely hear your own thoughts. Part of you was hoping she’d just get the hint and leave you alone for a while. You were trying to find your balance, trying to feel like you again, without the weight of whatever was happening between you two.

But now, as you laugh and talk with Jay, you can’t ignore the fact that you keep glancing away, his words tuning out.

It was then did you see a familiar head through the crowd of dancing people and drunk college students.

She’s here.

Daniela is standing by the entrance, her eyes scanning the crowd. You can’t see much more than the back of her head, but the way she holds herself, her golden curls, you know it’s her. Your stomach tightens.

"Everything okay?" Jay asked, noticing your distracted gaze.

“Yeah,” you reply, your voice flat, not realizing how much you’ve been affected by Daniela’s presence. You try to brush it off and focus back on Jay, but the sight of Daniela in the crowd feels like it’s pulling you in, tugging at you. Minutes later, you see her moving through the crowd, eyes trained on you like she’s found her target. There’s a flicker of annoyance in your chest. What does she want now? Why is she here?

But before you can process any of it, you feel her presence beside you—close enough that her perfume hits your nose. It’s familiar, warm, and immediately intoxicating.

You turn your head to meet her gaze, and for a moment, time slows. Daniela looks different tonight—darker, more intense.

“y/n,” she said, her voice low. “We need to talk.”

“Do you know her?” Jay asked, but you couldn’t look away.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. The club’s music thundered around you, but her words cut through it all. Jay noticed the shift, raising an eyebrow, but Daniela doesn’t even glance in his direction. It’s all about you now.

“I’m kinda busy,” you said, trying to sound unaffected, but your voice shook. You hated how weak you sound. Why the hell does she do this to you?

Daniela smirked, taking a step closer to you, her presence so overwhelming that you can’t breathe. Her eyes search your face, as if trying to read you. “No, you’re not. Come on.“

“Yo, she’s not comfortable, back up.” Jay held a hand up in front of Daniela, keeping her from stepping any closer. “Get lost, you can catch her later when you lose the attitude.”

“This doesn’t concern you, bird face.” Daniela held a hand up, “I want you

You want to pull away, to tell her to leave you alone. But there’s this pull between you two, this magnetic force you’ve never been able to escape, and for some stupid reason, you find yourself following her toward the edge of the dance floor, away from Jay and Sophia, away from the crowd.

“Dani, I—” you start, but she cuts you off, her hand suddenly grabbing yours, pulling you toward a quieter corner.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” she says, her voice sharp, but there’s an edge of vulnerability beneath it. It catches you off guard, making your breath catch in your throat.

“No, I’ve just been around,” you say weakly, though you can tell it’s a poor excuse, “My phone was on silent.”

She doesn’t buy it. You can see the way her eyes darken. She takes another step closer, and this time, you can feel her body heat, the tension crackling in the air between you.

“I care about you,” Daniela says, the words coming out in a low, strained whisper. It’s so different from the way she normally talks to you—abrasive, defiant—but tonight, she’s softer, almost desperate. “I don’t care about the rules, the games. I just want you to come home with me.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You blinked, trying to process them, but they’re already sinking in, wrapping around you, binding you to her. You’ve never heard Daniela speak like that before—not with this rawness, this vulnerable edge.

But you knew better than to give in that easily.

“I can’t just leave Sophia,” you scoffed, “And Jay, he’s been super nice to me--!”

Amidst the dance floor, away from any curious eyes, she grabbed your hips and begun grinding against you. Her front pressed flush against your back, her toned stomach grazing the small of your back. You felt your words catch in your throat, your brain frying the moment you felt her hands on you. It felt too familiar, too comforting for your liking.

“If I come close, baby, would you like that?” she whispered against your ear, you felt her lips smirk. Her fingers traced lines against your hot skin. “‘Cause all those boys, they don’t know what you need, but I… I know how to make sure you never leave.” Her voice had your knees bucking in the middle of the club. Jay and Sophia long forgotten as you focused on your hips moving in the same rhythm as this world class dancer’s.

You shook your head, unsure of what to say, but it’s too late.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. The reality of it hit you all at once—the unspoken truth of what you’ve been trying to deny for so long. You cared about her. You cared more than you were willing to admit, more than you’ve allowed yourself to feel. The thought of Jay, of anyone else, made your stomach churn.

And as you stand there, with Daniela’s hand gently gripping yours, her gaze locking onto yours with a desperate intensity, you realized you’d put up with her childish, immature tantrums if it meant you had her under your thumb like this.

You nodded, just a tiny movement, and Daniela’s expression softened immediately.

“Come home with me,” she whispered, the words almost reverent, like a plea. Can you imagine that? Having Daniela Avanzini beg for you.

You don’t say anything at first. You just let her take your hand, and for the first time, you allow yourself to follow her—heart pounding, but this time, not out of fear, but something else entirely. You liked it just like that.

[wendichester]

𐙚｡⋆ 𖦹 .✧˚ chained reaction,

summary. a curse tied you to dean and the resolution is... messy.

pairing. dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 576

The chain glints in the dim light of the bunker, its cold weight resting between you and Dean. The cursed artifact—an ancient, rusted shackle adorned with strange runes—had snapped onto both your wrists mid-hunt, leaving you tethered by three feet of unyielding chain.

“I still don’t understand how this happened,” you mutter, glaring at the chain as you tug futilely against it.

Dean’s jaw clenches as he paces, the chain jingling with every step. “I picked up the damn thing to examine it. How the hell was I supposed to know it’d latch onto us like a damn trap?”

“Because it’s cursed,” you snap. “We’re hunters, Dean. Isn’t not touching cursed objects the first rule?”

Dean stops pacing and glares at you, his green eyes dark with frustration. “Oh, I’m sorry, princess. Maybe next time you can take point and let me know when something’s about to screw me over.”

Your temper flares, but before you can bite back, Sam enters the room, his face a mix of amusement and concern.

“So, good news and bad news,” Sam says, holding an open lore book.

“Just give us the bad news,” Dean grumbles.

Sam sighs. “The chain won’t come off until you, uh… resolve your tension.”

You frown. “What does that mean?”

Sam clears his throat awkwardly, looking anywhere but at the two of you. “It means you have to… make-up―or better yet, make out.”

Dean barks out a disbelieving laugh. “You mean we have to kiss to break it? That’s ridiculous.”

Sam shrugs, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. “That’s what the lore says. The artifact reacts to unresolved emotional tension between people.” He closes the book, giving you both an apologetic look. “Good luck.”

Sam retreats quickly, leaving you and Dean alone in the tense silence.

You glare at Dean, your heart pounding. “This is all your fault.”

He steps closer, the chain pulling taut. “My fault? If anyone’s got unresolved tension here, it’s you.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, though your stomach flips at the heat in his gaze. “You’re the one who—”

Dean cuts you off, his voice low and rough. “Do you really think this is easy for me? Being around you every damn day, pretending I don’t…” He trails off, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.

Your breath catches. “Don’t what?”

His eyes darken, and his voice drops even lower. “Don’t want you.”

The air between you crackles, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. “Dean…”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he challenges, stepping closer, his boots brushing against yours.

You can’t.

The tension snaps like a rubber band. Dean’s hand cups the back of your neck, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that steals your breath. You gasp against his mouth, the taste of him overwhelming as your fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer.

The chain jingles as his free hand grips your hip, anchoring you against him. It’s frantic and messy, years of buried feelings spilling out in every press of his lips and every ragged breath.

When you finally break apart, you’re both panting, foreheads pressed together. “That enough tension for you?” Dean mutters, his voice rough and uneven.

You laugh softly, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. “I don’t think the chain’s coming off just yet.”

His lips twitch into a smirk, but there’s something raw in his eyes. “Guess we’ll just have to keep trying.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @lieutenantchaos ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @funkenniffler

[intheupside]

These days, Sidney Crosby doesn’t even try to fight it.

No matter what he does, it’s going to happen and happen fast.

When Crosby gets on the team plane to travel to away games, a countdown begins.

“I’m like, the second after I get in my seat after practice, if we’re going somewhere, I’m gone,” the Pittsburgh Penguins captain said. “Anytime I get on a plane, I’m like automatically out cold. I don’t know if it’s from all the bus travel in juniors, or if when I get on the plane it’s just because you’re not on your phone as much, but I end up just falling asleep.”

Goalie Alex Nedeljkovic, defenseman Marcus Pettersson plus forwards Michael Bunting and Bryan Rust sit together on flights, and from the moment they’re in their seats until it’s time to get off the plane, they play cards.

“Shnarps” is the game, and it’s played nonstop with no exceptions.

“It’s non-negotiable. If you’re at the table, you’re committed to the table. You can’t leave the table,” Nedeljkovic said. “If you leave the table, you get banished.”

Alterations to the Penguins roster the past few seasons have forced a changing of the guard upon the card sharks, as Brian Dumoulin, Chad Ruhwedel and Jake Guentzel used to occupy places at the table along with Rust.

But Rust has found eager participants in Pettersson, Nedeljkovic and Bunting, all of whom embrace the unrelenting pace of play and mafia-style rules of membership.

“As soon as all four guys are on, we start slinging ’em, and once we touch down, we stop,” Rust said. “We actually really look forward to it. Basically, if you leave, you leave in a box. You’re not coming back.”

of course sid’s napping

[maiiuelle]

the hunt

based on this post.. literally could not get this out of my head. nobody can do crazy like my man.

warnings: minors dni!! dom!rafe, chasing, pred/prey dynamic, basically breath and impact play

under different circumstances, you wouldn’t be caught dead knee-deep in the muddy swampland of the cut. but, you can’t stop moving now, the purr of rafe’s truck is growing to a roar behind you.

⊹₊⟡⋆

your legs are burning, and covered in mud and cuts from tree branches grazing by your delicate skin. you don’t know how long you’ve been running, long enough for your lungs to ache so painfully you could surrender.

you almost consider it until you realize what kind of punishment he must have waiting for you. you were bad. rafe is the cruelest man you know, and knowing that, you’d never disobeyed him in fear of how he’d react. until today.

your chest heaves as you push to keep running, each step onto the soft ground is pronounced with more dirt splattering your thighs. for a moment, you think he’s lost you, until a pair of bright LED headlights shine past your head and into your view.

he’s too close, the blood chilling rumble of his truck is approaching fast and the pain throbbing throughout your body is becoming too unbearable to keep going. you veer off of your course, weaving through trees until you find one with a thick enough trunk to hide behind. you slam your back into the wood, chest heaving as you lower yourself to a squat. you press a hand to your chest, desperately trying to catch your breath. the wheezing will only give you away.

you hear his truck stop, the humming of the engine fades out and the door slams, your whole body lurches against the rough tree bark.

rafe whistles. “babe!” he chides, the smirk on his lips clear through his voice. he’s enjoying this. “don’t play this game with me, alright? you know i saw you.”

your heart thumps in your ears, the pitter-patter taking over your senses as you try to think of what to do, but your body is frozen. whether it be from exhaustion, or fear, you’re paralyzed on the root rippled ground.

he may be having a good time chasing you around, but he’s growing impatient by the minute. “you’re really gonna make me come get you? gonna make this more difficult for yourself? huh?” the irritation lining his voice turns your stomach. you’re done for.

“what? you just wanna piss me off a little more, is that it? you like getting on my fuckin’ nerves?” he rants, twigs snapping under his feet as he stalks closer. “you’re a brat!”

you cover your mouth and suck in fresh air through your nose, the overwhelming scent of soil and swamp water fills your senses, only the unnatural sweet aroma of rafe’s luxury cologne suddenly catches in the soft breeze. before the panic can set in, a rough hand grabs your arm and pulls you to a stand, but you trip over your legs in shock and you fall right into your boyfriends chest. your face is met with the cold material of his golfing polo, one of his favorites, only now it’s stained with soot along with the rest of his expensive clothing.

“no, no! rafe!” you begin to plead, feeling guilty about what you’d done, and running. he pushes you off of him, his strong hands controlling your movements as he turns you at his will, holding you with his grip settled on your arms, using the leverage to hoist you up and over his shoulder like you’re nothing. “rafe, stop!” you hang limply, his arm coming to hold you down like he’s carrying a bundle of logs, only he holds your arms tight against your torso. with your arms trapped, and your legs already growing sore, you have no chance of escape.

rafe just scoffs, stomping through the wood back to his parked pick-up. “don’t beg now — like i didn’t just chase you down through the entire goddamn cut. you deserve what you’re gonna fucking get, know that.” he grits, and you whine out a strained cry.

once he reaches the truck, he rounds the passenger side and flicks the back door open. “y’know, at this point i’d at least expect an apology.” without warning, he bucks forward and throws you on your back onto the leather back seat. you stare up at him like a spooked doe, eyes wide as you finally get a good look at him. like you, he’s covered head to toe in mud. his sweaty bangs hang messily over his forehead as he looks down on you, nostrils flaring as his eyes watch your stiffened frame expectantly. “i’d start with ‘i’m so sorry, rafey!’” he teases, his thick finger suddenly coming up to hook under the waistband of your skirt. he invades your space, tall enough to hover over you even though he’s still standing outside of the truck. he gets so close your hands instinctively come up to brace yourself, they ball up in his stained shirt in fear, but you hold onto the slight hope he’ll have some sort of mercy on you.

“rafe — rafe, i am sorry! i just — i was..” you cry, only he smacks his other heavy hand over your mouth before you can get far. even doing what he says, he grows even angrier. he’s completely unpredictable.

“shut the fuck up!” rafe shouts, his hand on your waistband adjusts and he grabs your waist, his grip bruising. “you wanna apologize? yeah?” he pushes, and when you nod he helps you along with his palm over your mouth. “good girl. that’s it.”

warmth spreads through your stomach, pulsing in slow waves as his warm fingers trail up your torso to your tit to palm it gently like a stress ball. his eyes outline your body, while yours stay on his face, watching him take in his prey. it’s odd, you’re terrified and yet so eager to be splayed out in front of him like this.

“fuck.” he groans, the hand on your mouth pivots to your jaw, positioning your head upward to meet his lips. they crash into yours, and you’re desperate to reciprocate, grasping for any affection from him. he breaks to push his forehead into yours, hands suddenly occupied with prying off his mud-caked belt. “take ‘em off, come on.” rafe urges under his breath, clearly running low on patience. in part due to your own mounting desire, you shuffle to push your tennis skirt and panties down to your knees.

rafe forces down his shorts just enough to free himself, eyes raking over you. impatiently, he rips your bottoms right off your legs, balling them up in his palm and chucking them deeper into the backseat before he resumes ravishing you. he’s pinned you to the leather seat with the weight of his body, pressing against you as he forces his lips into yours. the animalistic, hungry way he’s handling you is delicious. your core is throbbing hot against the cold outdoor air, his cock smooths over your thigh, and your head goes blank. you can’t wait any longer to feel him push inside of you. the fear and distress you’d been filled with before has melted completely into submission.

he lifts himself up, one hand coming to position himself at your entrance, and the other pushes your fitted cropped t-shirt up over your tits. he pauses, slotting his tip between your folds, mindlessly making you shudder in need. rafe couldn’t care, he’s taking his time now, too focused on playing with your tits with his free hand, watching them peak through his fingers. imagining what he could do to you. “god, you are so fucking lucky i love you.”

his hips come flush with yours as he plunges into you. your satisfied scream is immediately muffled by his hand coming back to its place over your lips, the force pins your head to the seat.

rafe rocks into you slowly, but with a force that pushes your limp body up the seat with every thrust. you’re so full, it’s intoxicating. you’re taken over by the feeling of him, you close your eyes so there isn’t anything but him, how he’s making you feel. your hands come to claw at his arm, even in your state, you’re desperate to breathe through the hand that’s covering your mouth and shifting over your nose. he’s completely entranced, watching himself disappear inside of you over and over again. he deserved this after all you’d put him through.

but, it’s not enough. his snapping movements are slowly pushing you away, and his frustration swells. “fuck.. fuck!” rafe growls, moving both arms to wrap around your muddy thighs, hooking underneath to pull you impossibly closer to him. your ass is completely hanging off the back seat now, suspended in mid-air held up completely by him. you take the chance to sit up on your elbows, peeking down to where your bodies meet. it’s so overwhelming, you rush to catch your breath, but it’s impossible with the unrelenting pace he’s setting. your poor lungs burn as your throat forces out strangled moans, the stretch of him inside of you feels too good to stay quiet. the sound of your skin smacking together fills the truck, beautifully conjoined with the pretty sounds he’s pulling from you. “yeah, yeah. is this what you wanted?” rafe looks at your fucked out face, your lashes fluttering as you try to keep yourself together. “fucking say it.”

“just wanted you, rafe!” you whine, your pussy pulsing around him as a wave of heat spreads through your abdomen. a moan rips from you, he knows you’re about to burst, and he’s feeling mean.

rafe’s hips smack against yours, punctuating his assault with a hard chap before he completely unsheathes himself. you’re brave enough to pout, crumbling with a whine as you clench around nothing. he grabs your jaw, forcing your attention. “you do some stupid shit like that again, i’m leaving you with the gators.”

and with that, rafe stands up straight, shifting his shorts back into place and stuffing himself inside. once he’s sorted, he plants a hand on the fat of your thigh and shoves you inside. without sparing you a glance, he runs his hand down his face, looking behind his truck to surveil the surrounding woods. he slams the back door, leaving you to stare at the leather interior bewildered. rafe reappears, tugging open the drivers side door, hauling himself inside and bringing the truck’s engine back to life. rafe doesn’t say a word to you as he drives you back to tannyhill, too busy plotting how he’s going to finish you off when you get there.

⊹₊⟡⋆