#it’s not that i don’t try it just doesn’t work for me

[myderis]

mydei 'n fem reader ᰔ fluff ⊹ word count 0.3k

“Are you two married?” A small boy with a sword in hand, eyes bright and full of curiosity, turns to MYDEIMOS, and the prince immediately opens his mouth to dismiss the idea. “No, we are no—”

“Oh, Mydei. I didn’t know you saw me that way~” you tease, standing at the dusty training grounds as the kids swing their wooden swords around, trying to be just like their role models. His face flushes a little, but he doesn’t break his cool or let you tease him further.

“I don’t. More training, less talking,” Mydei says, keeping his attention on the little girl trying to hold her wooden weapon properly, though his annoyance is hard to ignore.

The girl looks up at the prince, raising an eyebrow. “You two argue like my parents do.” Mydei freezes, caught off guard by her bluntness. He rolls his eyes and sighs, walking away to take a breather, not wanting to have this conversation again. “Let’s take a break.”

As the children are happy with their well-deserved rest, you sidle up to them, handing them water or the much-preferred pomegranate juice. “He’s just shy. Give him time.” You wink, nudging the boy who started it all. “Now, now, who wants some sweet treats?”

The little girl takes advantage of you being occupied and approaches Mydei. She looks up at him, her hands carefully clutching her sword. “If I were like Lady (Name), a beautiful and good woman, and a prince like you came along…” She pauses, having that dreamy look on her face, waiting for his reaction. “We'd get married. That’s what happens in the fairytales, right?”

Mydei stands still, gazing down at the child and then at you, observing how your smile makes the rest of the children happier, how you just being here makes him feel so … giddy. He exhales deeply, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well, fairytales are a bit nonexistent.” He glances at you, his voice soft. “But you should never settle for anything less than you deserve.”

“Really? Is the wedding soon?” The prince rolls his eyes and ruffles her hair, making her laugh, but he doesn’t answer, and she only takes his answer as a promise that it will happen.

© MYDERIS. do not translate, plagiarize, or steal my work.

[leyavo]

Wife/girlfriend series, Ghost, Price and Gaz already done. Soap’s around 26 years old and more interested in progressing in his career. So I don’t think he’d be married, but would have a girlfriend….

Soap’s girlfriend is wild.

You’re few years younger than Johnny and making the most of your youth whilst you can. He likes that things are fun and not too serious. You’re always scratching that itch, trying new things out and pushing him to play more.

Play electric guitar in a band, every Friday night, rock night at a pub which promotes independent artists. Johnny met you when he went there on the off chance, you jumping down the platform after your set and kissing him. Johnny thinks the lead singers a little prick.

Started as a fuck it and see relationship (where he called whenever he was home and you had sex). Turned into you staying longer each morning to cuddle him instead of rushing out straight after.

There was just something that pulled the two of you back together. The back and forth messaging whilst he was away, filled with nonsense but fun nonetheless.

Sending him videos of you dancing in the nightclub and taking shots on the weekend whilst he’s away working. A pic of your breasts in a push bra and a little black dress.

“Fuckin’ hells bells,” he mumbles to himself as your video blares through his phone speaker (he’s always forgetting to turn the volume down). Gaz and ghost glaring at him as they pick their own personal items up after a long mission.

He replies instantly, but doesn’t get anything in return for hours. Just you sending a pic of yourself hungover in bed with your best friend.

You always meet him at the train station or airport. Waiting for him, running and jumping into his arms.

Dragging Johnny to rock festivals in the summer when he’s home. Making him mixtapes of your favourite bands so he can listen to it back at the base.

You work part-time at a tattoo studio doing piercings. Pierced Johnny’s eyebrow once and pouted when he had to remove it to go back to work. Also have random temp jobs here and there.

Johnny can’t believe the stuff that comes out of your mouth, even he wouldn’t say half of it.

“I would’na say tha’ lass.”

“Well I bet you’ll be using that line on your little radio with the boys.”

Constantly teasing him about being a serious military man. Even more so when a guy gets a bit too comfortable with you. Whenever you go out you’re never on time and he’s telling you down to the minute how long it’s been since you were supposed to leave.

“what’s that drop and give me twenty?” You shout back. Johnny stomping into your room and diving over the bed to get you. Mock saluting him as he’s got you cornered, as if that’s going to make up for it.

“Drop and give me somethin’ else.”

Love to play fight, but you’re still mad at Johnny for breaking your lava lamp that you bring it up all the time. You also bite him to get out of his hold, a scar on his bicep where your teeth sunk a little too deep.

When you finally move in together it’s chaotic, Johnny’s got a set routine and you just follow whatever mood you feel.

Loves hearing you play the acoustic guitar in the apartment, laying on the carpet in the living room whilst you sit and play. The scratch of your pen on paper as you create something new. Sunlight warm on his face, eyes closed as he listens to you humming along. Finds your guitar picks everywhere, even in his wash bag when he opens it at work.

Lazy Sundays are his favourite, your hand tracing the side of his shaved head as you hum.

Understanding about Johnny’s need to check the security regularly in the apartment and reminding you to keep your location on. Likes how you reassure him that he’s safe, those seconds when he wakes from a night terror and the weight of your hand on his, grounding him. Your scent comforting him as he rests his head on your stomach. Words whispered of all the things you used to be afraid of as a kid, silly little things to make him laugh.

“You know I think I was actually scared of my shadow.”

FaceTiming him to ask his opinion on your outfit for a night out. Johnny saying it’s not quite you, only so he can watch you change out of your clothes again.

“I have nothing to wear.” Your camera panning to the mess in the bedroom. The piles of clothes strewn over the floor and bed.

“Just stay, talk to me.” Johnny’s plan to keep you on the call working quicker than he thought. Leads to phone sex.

Johnny gets you a guitar that your dad used to have, your dad passed away years ago. Even down to the red embroidered guitar strap attached to it, so alike the one in the photograph of your dad teaching you to place as a kid. You try to teach Johnny how to play too, but he’s too distracted by how soft your voice is and the way you move his fingers each time. Distracted with how soft you are with him.

You’re not as scared of certain things, Johnny showing you that you can be strong on your own. Scared to drive after what happened to your dad. Johnny even taught you how to drive and now you can go anywhere, including visiting him at the army base.

When you meet the rest of TF141 guys you and Johnny are having a hot make out session on the sofa of the residential house at the base which they all live in. Thankfully it hadn’t escalated from just his tongue in your mouth, but you didn’t let it bother you as climbed off Johnny’s lap and greeted them.

You end up staying in and playing poker with the guys. Trading cigars, coins and anything you could find in your pockets. Price loses all his cigars to you, but you give the guys one each so you can smoke on the patio at 3am. Simon talking to you about an obscure rock band that isn’t really mainstream and you trade stories about some concerts he went to when he was teen. Gaz asks you if he can still use earrings even when he hasn’t for over a decade, which you repierce for him. Price telling you that you have a good one in there, his head nudging over his shoulder to Johnny in the house as you finish off your cigars.

[pigfartsviatardis]

Yeah and this is one of the big frustrating issues with leftist politics (I say this as a very leftist person). It’s always so black and white and so incredibly self righteous.

Anyone can and probably will at some point, in some way, engage in toxic or outright abusive behaviour. The world is not split into good people and bad people. It’s not a binary. It’s never a binary!!!! It’s always a 3D spectrum and it’s always more complicated than however anyone, including me, is trying to make it.

But yeah the take that abusers, addicts, bigots etc are irredeemable and can never be allowed to move on is just so bad and so unrealistic. Because that’s everyone at some point! Including the people who have also been victims! Cycle of abuse anyone??? It doesn’t only apply to parents and children. How many people who cheat have been cheated on themselves? How many people self sabotage by treating people poorly because they in turn have been treated poorly?

I know a lot of people irl who have done shitty things and then justified it. It’s a very normal human behaviour. If you think you wouldn’t do it, you are wrong. Best we can do is try to be self aware, try to listen to others if they call us out, and YES try to actually forgive ourselves and be better.

And if someone has done shitty things to you then by all means cut them off! You are not at all obliged to help them or forgive them. Fuck that noise. BUT surely the best possible outcome after you part ways is that that person grows and improves? That they don’t do that shitty thing to someone else? I agree with OP that that probably can’t or won’t happen unless they manage self forgiveness - as in, understanding that they fucked up, feeling genuine guilt and shame, and working through that - and also have forgiveness and trust from others as they go on with their life.

the thing is, if your younger self was a bigot or an abuser, u can't make people forgive you. but you still gotta forgive yourself, like that's non-negotiable, dude. that happens before u can even ask the question of earning forgiveness from anyone lese

[wonderjanga]

Was thinking of the terrible dad captain marvel post when my brain went

What if they (incorrectly) believe that the kid’s other parents are gods? (Or possibly Black Adam)

Flash: “Look, I’m just saying that the little purple one is probably Hermes and his kid.”

Marvel: *walks in the room* “Hey guys! What are you talking about?”

GL: “About how you have like five baby daddies.”

*silence*

Marvel: *looks scandalized* “…What?”

Flash: “About how you have five baby daddies.”

Marvel: *speechless for a solid minute* “Where did you hear that from???”

GL: “No one, but you kinda implied it, man-”

Marvel: “When did I do that?!?”

Flash: “Look, just- You’re not slick. Anyways, right now we’re just trying to figure out who exactly are the five. I’m guessing Hermes is a little purple one’s dad.”

Mercury: *doesn’t know whether to laugh or be offended*

GL: “And I’m guessing that the little gray ones dad is Zeus because he always messes around with lightning and technology.”

Meanwhile in Olympus…

Hera: *suspicious* “Something just happened…”

Back at the Watchtower…

Zeus: *retching sounds*

GL: “I have no idea about the other three though. Like who’s the green one?”

Mercury: Billy, say Huītzilōpōchtli. I want a shoutout for my boy.

Marvel: *appalled* “I AM NOT SAYING THAT.” *is talking to Mercury*

Flash: *thinks he’s talking to them* “Okay, okay, damn. No need to get so worked up.”

Marvel: “I wasn’t- never mind. What made you think? I have five different baby daddies??”

GL: “Dude all your kids look different, all you really need is a pair of eyes to see that.”

Marvel: *confused as to why he said “your kids”* “Wha?”

Flash: “By the way, who are Junior and Mary’s too? Mary looks a lot like you, so did you do that weird thing where gods that are siblings get together and have kids?”

Marvel: *somehow even more appalled* “Oh my Gods, no??? That’s fucking disgusting!”

Flash and GL: *share a look because Marvel rarely curses*

GL: “Well, that’s good then but still, who are all their parents??”

Marvel: *scrambling to pull something out of his ass so he can end this conversation* “I- uh- they don’t have parents!”

Flash and GL: *confusion*

Marvel: “Yeah! They spawned a little bit after me from the Rock!”

GL: “How long was a “little bit after?” You look old enough to be their dad.”

Solomon: ‘The ability for champions to share their powers with others came into existence around 120 thousand years ago. Just say that, Billy.’

Marvel: “Well, i’m like 200,000 years old and they came to existence like 120,000 years ago.”

GL: “Jesus, I forgot how old you guys are.”

Flash: “Dang, so you’re not their dad.”

Marvel: “No! If anything, we’re siblings!”

Flash: “I guess I could see that making more sense.”

[valkyriexo]

How they would act when they secretly like you | OT8

ᑉ³pairing; Friend! OT8 x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Fluff, Headcannon

ᑉ³warnings; none I think!

ᑉ³authors note; I hope you enjoy <3

╰┈➤ Chan

Becomes extraaaa attentive. He’ll always check if you’re comfortable, safe, or need anything without making it too obvious. If you so much as sigh, he’s already asking you questions.

........But he sucks at making things not obvious so hes tripping over his words... and his feet.

He’s normally composed, but around you? He’s stuttering, dropping things, and somehow managing to trip over completely flat surfaces.

Pink is his new favorite color. Specifically, the pink of his cheeks whenever you compliment him or stand too close. He’ll try to play it off, but his ears betray him every time.

Finds ANY excuse to be around you. He suddenly needs help with things he’s perfectly capable of doing, like “Can you help me hold this?” (it’s literally a single sheet of paper). Or he just happens to show up at places he swears he didn’t know you’d be. “Oh, you’re here too? What a coincidence!” (It’s not.)

Gets protective in the softest way—He’ll casually drape his hoodie over your shoulders if you look cold, subtly push your drink closer if you haven’t sipped it in a while, or remind you to take breaks if he sees you working too hard. He’ll never make a big deal about it, just a casual “Here, take this.”

Deflects when someone else flirts with you—If someone tries to hit on you, Chan will laugh—but it’s that nervous, “Hah… okay, moving on” kind of laugh before he immediately finds a way to insert himself back into the conversation

╰┈➤ Minho

He is the embodyment of down bad

Acts like he doesn’t care, but he totally does—He’ll shrug and say, “Why are you telling me this?” when you share something with him… only for him to bring it up later because he definitely remembered. (“Didn’t you say you liked this? Just take it and don’t make it weird.”)

Teases you way more than anyone else—If he has a nickname for you, it’s probably something ridiculous (“Hey, clumsy,” even if you’re not). But the moment anyone else tries to tease you? His glare alone is enough to shut them up.

Finds ways to ‘annoy’ you just to get your attention—Takes your stuff and holds it above your head, pokes your side when you’re not paying attention, or randomly rests his arm on your shoulder just to see your reaction. But if you ignore him? He gets so huffy and pouty.

Notices every little thing about you—He’ll adjust the volume of the music to a level he knows you like, order your favorite drink without asking, or silently position things so you’re more comfortable. He won’t say anything about it—he just does it.

Secretly soft but only when you’re not looking—If you fall asleep next to him, he’ll make sure you’re comfortable and maybe even brush your hair out of your face… but the second you wake up, he’s back to pretending he doesn’t care. “You drool in your sleep. It’s disgusting.” (He was totally staring at you fondly five seconds ago.)

Gets suspiciously quiet when someone else flirts with you—He won’t say anything, but his energy shifts fast. Either he suddenly becomes very interested in his phone, or he’ll cut into the conversation with a deadpan “Wow. That’s original.” before dragging you away.

Will do something sweet for you but make it seem like it’s not a big deal—If you thank him for anything, he’ll wave it off with a “You’re so annoying. Just take it.” But he’ll be secretly waiting for your reaction out of the corner of his eye.

╰┈➤ Changbin

Acts like the most confident guy ever… until you actually pay attention to him. He’ll be flexing at the gym, showing off his rap skills, or cracking jokes....then you compliment him, and suddenly he’s stammering and looking anywhere but at you.

Starts working out even harder when you’re around. If you walk by while he’s lifting weights, he’ll suddenly go way harder than usual. Like he has to prove he’s strong. But if you call him out on it? “What? This? Pfft, this is nothing.” (He’s totally out of breath.)

Buys you snacks but pretends he just had extra.“Oh, I got two of these for no reason. You can have one, I guess.” (He literally went out of his way to buy your favorite one.)

Laughs way too loud at your jokes. Even if it’s not funny, even if it barely makes sense, he’s cracking up like you’re the world’s best comedian. (Get your own show)

Tries to be cool but blurts out embarrassing things. He’ll be trying to flirt, but somehow, it comes out all wrong. “You smell nice—I MEAN—I wasn’t sniffing you! Not like a dog or anything! I mean—oh my god.”

Gets competitive just for an excuse to be close to you. If there’s a game, he’s challenging you. If you win, he’s demanding a rematch. If you lose, he’ll tease you mercilessly. But if you pout, he’ll instantly go soft like “Okay, okay, you did good.”

If someone else flirts with you, suddenly he’s so funny. He’ll start cracking jokes, flexing his arms, or just randomly inserting himself into the conversation. Anything to make sure he’s the one you’re paying attention to.

╰┈➤ Hyunjin

Gets completely lost in his own world when looking at you. He thinks he’s being subtle, but nope—his soft gaze, little smile, and absolute lack of blinking give him away every time. If you catch him staring, he panics and immediately looks anywhere else “Oh, I was just… admiring the wallpaper.” (The wallpaper being a completely blank white wall.)

Randomly starts writing poetry or doodling in his notebook...and it somehow always ends up being about you. If you ask him about it, he’ll get all flustered and flip the page so fast he almost rips it.

Flirts without realizing it… until you flirt back. He’ll dramatically say, “You look breathtaking today,” like he’s in a historical romance drama. But if you respond with, “So do you,” his whole brain short-circuits, and he’s suddenly giggling into his sleeve.

Accidentally touches you all the time. Brushes hair out of your face, fixes your collar, tucks a loose strand behind your ear—then realizes what he’s doing and instantly pulls back like he just touched a hot stove. “Uh—I, um—there was lint!”

Gets dreamy and sentimental whenever you talk about things you love. You could be talking about your favorite food or a childhood memory, and he’s just sitting there, chin in his hand, completely enchanted.

If he sees you upset, he gets dramatic but in the softest way.“Who do I need to fight?” Then he’ll gently nudge your shoulder and mumble, “I don’t like seeing you sad.”

If someone else flirts with you, suddenly he’s the most poetic person alive. He’ll start saying things like, “A connection like ours… it’s rare, don’t you think?” while looking at you with the softest eyes. He’s not even being subtle at this point.

╰┈➤ Han

Acts totally normal—except he’s so not. He thinks he’s playing it cool, but suddenly, he’s laughing at the wrong part of a joke, tripping over absolutely nothing, or just blurting out words that make zero sense.

Finds literally any excuse to talk to you. Even if it’s the most random thing ever. “Hey, do you think squirrels have, like, best friends?” He just wants to hear your voice, even if the conversation makes no sense.

Rambles when he gets nervous. If he’s trying to impress you, he ends up going on a five-minute tangent about something completely unrelated. “Yeah, so anyway, that’s how I learned I’m slightly allergic to pineapples. Wait, what were we talking about again?”

Gives you his food, even when he doesn’t share with anyone else. Everyone knows Han doesn’t play when it comes to his food, but if you so much as glance at his plate, suddenly he’s sliding it over like, “Here, you can have some. But just a little. Actually, just take the whole thing.”

Writes lyrics that suspiciously sound like they’re about you. If you catch onto it, he’ll deny, deny, deny. “What? No, this isn’t about anyone! I just… wrote it. For fun. RANDOMLY.” (It’s absolutely about you.)

Sends you memes instead of flirting. If he likes you, expect a daily flood of funny videos, memes, and inside jokes. It’s his way of making sure you’re laughing even when he’s not around.

Gets lowkey jealous but plays it off. If someone else flirts with you, he’ll make a joke out of it, but you can hear the pout in his voice. “Wow. That was so funny. Almost as funny as ME.” Then he’ll immediately try to one-up them.

╰┈➤ Felix

Looks at you like you hung the stars. He thinks he’s being subtle, but his eyes absolutely light up whenever you walk into the room. If anyone points it out, he gets all shy and mumbles something like, “No, I was just—uh—nothing.” (It’s not nothing.)

Bakes extra just for you. He’ll claim he just happened to make too many cookies, but somehow, they’re always exactly your favorite. If you ever compliment his baking, he’ll get the softest smile and probably make an even bigger batch next time.

Gives you little gifts for no reason. Whether it’s a tiny trinket, a cute sticker, or a random plushie that reminded him of you, he’s always finding ways to show he’s thinking about you.

Sneaks in small, thoughtful gestures. If your phone battery is low, he offers his charger before you even ask. If it’s chilly, he casually drapes his hoodie over your shoulders. If you’re stressed, he just quietly sits beside you, offering warmth and comfort without saying a word.

Laughs at literally everything you say. Even if it’s not funny. Especially if it’s not funny. He just finds you so endearing that even your bad jokes are worth giggling over.

Stays up late just to talk to you. Even if he’s exhausted, if you text him, he’s responding immediately with a “Not tired at all! What’s up?” (He is definitely tired, but he’d rather hear your voice than sleep.)

Goes quiet when he’s flustered. Felix is naturally expressive, but if you catch him off guard—like by calling him cute or standing a little too close—he suddenly turns into a shy, blushing mess. His freckles practically glow from how red he gets.

If someone else flirts with you, he gets extra clingy. He won’t make a scene, but expect lots of lingering touches, pouty looks, and a soft, “You’re mine, right?” whispered just loud enough for you to hear. ( Great now were BOTH blushing)

╰┈➤ Seungmin

Teases you way more than anyone else. If Seungmin likes you, congratulations—you’re now his favorite target. He’ll tease you for everything, from the way you hold your chopsticks to your music taste. But if someone else tries to tease you? Suddenly, he’s not laughing anymore.

Pretends not to care but is lowkey always looking out for you. He’ll act like he doesn’t notice when you’re tired or stressed, but next thing you know, he’s casually sliding a drink your way, saying something like, “You look like a zombie. Drink this before you collapse.”

Finds excuses to be around you but plays it off like it’s your fault. If you’re in the room, he’s magically there too—but if anyone calls him out, he’ll deadpan, “I was here first.” (He absolutely was not.)

Mocks you but listens to everything you say. You could mention a random childhood story once, and months later, he’ll bring it up like it was yesterday. (“Didn’t you say your favorite candy was this? You better eat it. I didn’t get it for nothing.”)

Acts so unbothered but gets flustered when you flip the teasing on him. The moment you compliment him or call him cute, he freezes for a second before scoffing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” (He knows exactly what you’re talking about, and he is dying inside.)

Casually bullies you into taking care of yourself. If you skip a meal, he’s giving you that look before handing you a snack. “Eat before you get even more annoying.” If you’re overworking yourself, he’ll literally steal your stuff so you have to take a break.

If someone else flirts with you, he just silently glares. No whining, no obvious jealousy—just a blank stare that says “Are you serious right now?”

╰┈➤ Jeongin

Gets ridiculously shy around you but also lowkey enjoys teasing you. One second, he’s avoiding eye contact and blushing if you get too close; the next, he’s grinning and calling you a baby just to see you pout. “Aww, are you mad? So cute.” (He’s totally the one who’s flustered.)

Always “accidentally” ends up next to you. Whether it’s sitting beside you during group hangouts, walking next to you without realizing, or suddenly needing to be where you are—he somehow always finds his way to you.

Acts like he’s unaffected but gets SO nervous when you focus on him. You compliment his outfit? He suddenly forgets how to exist. You look at him too long? He’s playing with his sleeves, avoiding eye contact, and mumbling “Stop looking at me like that.”

Remembers the most random details about you. You could casually mention your favorite snack or how you love a certain brand of hand cream, and next thing you know, he’s gifting it to you “just because.”

Laughs at literally everything you do. Even if it’s not that funny, even if you just tripped over air—he’s dying laughing. But if you’re embarrassed, he’ll soften immediately, nudging you with a “It’s okay, I do dumb stuff all the time too.”

Gets adorably protective in small ways. He’ll hold doors open, walk on the side closest to the road, or casually hand you a jacket if it’s cold...like it’s second nature. If you thank him, he’ll just shrug, trying to act like his heart isn’t racing.

If someone else flirts with you, he just… stares. At first, he pretends not to care, but his ears are bright red. If it goes on too long, he’ll suddenly appear beside you like, “Let’s go.” No explanation. Just go.

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[lvnleah]

Hello , i wanted to request a lia walti one, it is basically awfc x teen reader , please ignore if you don't writer her .

May I request an awfc x teen!walti reader who is much younger than lia and is almost the opposite of lia. She is a pest to her sister but lia adores her anyway , she is destined to be the next star girl of the Swiss team and woso in general and joins awfc and the team gets to know the young walti is very different from her sister almost as menace as Kyra and they become very good friends with all the youngsters and well more headache for awf team and captain Kimmy and her older sister lia herself but they adore her .. thank you

double trouble | lia wälti.

thank you for this request! :)

Joining Arsenal was a dream come true, but it was also the worst nightmare for one person in particular. Your big sister, Lia.

At 21, you were already being hailed as Switzerland’s next big star. On the pitch, your technical ability and football IQ were undeniable. But off the pitch?

You were a menace. A lovable, chaotic, ADHD-driven menace.

Lia had spent your entire childhood keeping you in check, and now, thanks to Arsenal, she had to do it all the time.

The warning came before you even stepped foot in the training ground.

“Y/N, I’m serious,” Lia said as she drove you to your first session. “No pranks. No messing around. You want to make a good impression, right?”

You turned to her with your best innocent face. “Lia, come on, you act like I’m some kind of—”

Lia scoffed as she cut you off, “You hid my boots in the freezer before an international match.”

“…Okay, but that was funny.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“It kind of was.”

Lia let out a long, tired sigh. “Just please try to act professional, yeah? I want this to work for you.”

You lasted maybe ten minutes.

The first training session went as expected, meaning you caused absolute chaos. The moment you walked into the dressing room, Beth slung an arm around your shoulder. “The little Walti! We’ve heard so much about you.”

“Aww has Lia been singing my praises?” You asked with a cheeky smirk, “Lia, you really don’t have to!”

Lia rolled her eyes as she set her bag down, “Trust me I have not been singing your praises. I’ve been warning them.”

You gasped, “Warning them about your own baby sister? I’m heartbroken! What have you been seeing?” 

Kim rolled her eyes from beside Beth, “Enough to know you’re a little troublemaker.”

You grinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The team wasn’t buying your innocent act for a second. Lotte raised a sceptical eyebrow as she laced up her boots. “Yeah, sure. You and trouble? Completely unrelated.”

Katie, who had been watching with amusement, leaned in. “I like her. She’s got that little shit energy.”

Lia groaned. “Please, don’t encourage her.”

That was when Kyra walked in.

You didn’t know who she was at first, but the second she spotted you, her face lit up. “No fucking way. You’re the other menace? Sick!”

Lia’s head hit the locker with a soft thud. “Oh no. No, no, no. This cannot be happening.”

You turned to Kyra, eyebrows raised in confusion, “Other menace? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kyra grinned, slinging an arm around your shoulders like she’d known you forever. “Means we’re about to be best friends. I’ve been carrying the chaos around here all on my own,” She smirked at Lia. “Now I’ve got backup.”

Lia groaned again, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment. “I give it a week before one of you gets banned from the training ground.”

Beth snorted. “A week? You’re optimistic.”

You turned to Kyra, grinning. “So what’s the worst thing you’ve done here so far?”

Kyra looked thoughtful for a moment before smirking. “Let’s just say Jonas doesn’t leave his office door unlocked anymore.”

Your eyes widened with admiration. “Oh, I like you.”

Lia looked absolutely horrified. “I hate this. I hate everything about this.”

Kyra shot a look at Lia, then she turned back to you with a smirk. “I think we’re gonna be best friends.”

The room collectively groaned.

“Nope,” Beth said immediately, pointing a warning finger at both of you. “Absolutely not.”

Steph shook her head. “This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

Lia looked like she was having a crisis. “You guys were supposed to keep them apart!”

“Oh, come on. I’m actually very responsible.” Kyra smirked

“Kyra, you stole Jonas’ tactics board last week.”

Kyra scoffed. “It was an accident.”

“You wrote ‘Kyra’s Master Plan’ on it.” Steph reminded her, “The plan was to just kick everyone or egg them…”

“…Okay, maybe not an accident.”

You burst out laughing. “I knew I liked you.”

Kyra grinned. “We’re gonna have so much fun.”

Lia turned to Kim. “I need a transfer.”

Kim patted her on the shoulder. “Too late, Wally.”

The rest of the team was already exchanging wary glances. They had survived Kyra. They had survived you. But the two of you together?

They might not make it out alive and that was proved over the next few weeks. 

It started small.

Little things.

A missing boot here, a mysteriously locked physio room there. The occasional mysteriously swapped training bibs that had everyone confused about which team they were on during drills.

Harmless.

Mostly.

Lia had been watching. She always did, with that big-sister sense that had kept you in check (or tried to) for years. She saw the way you and Kyra exchanged glances after Jonas called for a tactical review. The way Beth’s locker mysteriously refused to open one morning. The way the team chat suddenly blew up with debates over whether a ghost haunted the gym after the lights flickered for two nights in a row.

Lia knew.

But the final straw came when Leah stormed into training one morning, face red with frustration with her boots in her hands. 

“You two,” she said, voice dangerously calm, “Did you two little shits pit googly eyes on my boots?”

Silence.

Leah held the pair out, each one sporting a pair of wide, cartoonishly oversized eyes that wobbled slightly in the wind.

Lia didn’t even look at you first. She looked at Kyra.

Then you.

Then back at Kyra.

Leah exhaled sharply, muttering something under her breath before rubbing her temples. “I don’t even know why I bother.”

You were doing a terrible job at keeping a straight face. So was Kyra. Katie was openly laughing, and Beth had turned away, shaking with silent giggles.

“We tried to stop them,” Vic deadpanned.

“No, you didn’t,” Lia accused.

“No, we didn’t,” Vic admitted.

Leah pinched the bridge of his nose and turned back to you and Kyra. “You’re running extra laps.”

Kyra groaned. “But—”

“Now.”

Lia, arms crossed, watched you go with the weight of a thousand exhausted big sister sighs.

“I told you this would happen,” she muttered.

Beth clapped her on the back. “Cheer up, Wally. At least they’re funny.”

Lia did not find it funny. Not when you and Kyra turned your extra laps into pretending to be Olympic sprinters. Not when Kyra fake-tripped and rolled halfway down the pitch like a footballer diving for a penalty. Not when you did the world's worst cartwheel in an attempt to "make training more fun."

But if the team thought googly eyes were the worst of your antics, they had another thing coming.

[dinoit]

In place of rent I would probably put profit but otherwise yes, you basically just said what I was trying to say, I’m sorry it didn’t come across more clearly. Capitalism doesn’t work in a world with greedy people that are unwilling to comply with fair business practices and who treat business success like a war rather than a cooperative service. If you look at small businesses, they take enough work to keep themselves afloat and sublet to/refer clients to other small businesses in the same field for any work they themselves can’t handle/dont need. I think small business practices are what give me faith in idealized (aka heavily regulated/modified) capitalism, because usually small businesses are able to properly service their customers with fair pricing, pay their employees a living wage, and aid their “competitors” (other small businesses in the same field) in their growth. I work for a small company and we often have to work extra hard to match the force of larger companies in our field but the symbiotic relationship we have with other small businesses allows us all to make ends meet, I don’t know how this holds up in all industries but it’s true for my line of work. So capitalism as it is defined and practiced in modern America will NEVER work, I agree with you, but the original plan of capitalism has some points that we can apply to future financial systems we develop, like I like the concept of (slow and regulated) growth in certain fields because it allows companies to innovate and further improve products and services. The truth of the matter is capitalism was designed to work pre-industrialization, when even if a company got big it couldn’t become a monopoly and reach a national or global scale (unless it was a trading company). Ideally we could make a financial system that allows businesses to grow based on work quality while also putting in regulations such as; after $5 mil in profit 50% of company profit must be used to fund public services/projects to benefit the country (including the environment), and maybe even a salary cap like a person can not make over $500k in a fiscal year (outside of lottery/gambling winnings and selling houses or businesses which would be considered special circumstances), and taxes that are proportional to income with no loopholes to get out of paying them (idk I’m not a economist/expert or anything but those are just a few ideas). So I guess maybe that’s not capitalism because capitalism was designed to be a system without limits (outside of previous technological limits) but I just don’t know what to call that system.

[solxamber]

For the event, could I request Leona, romantic, with "Waiting on the Sun" by Citizen Soldier? First time listening to this after discovering Twisted had me wailing in the car haha

i was crying at the club when i heard it... it suits leona so well oh my god

Waiting on the Sun || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Waiting on the Sun by Citizen Soldier

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1010

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Realization of feelings

Leona has never been one for dreams.

Dreams are a fool’s game, a glimmer of hope strung out in front of desperate people, forcing them to chase something they’ll never catch. He learned early on that hope was nothing but a pretty lie wrapped in a silver ribbon, and in the end, the ribbon always frayed.

The world never made space for second sons, and the sun never rose for men like him.

He should have stopped waiting for it years ago.

But somehow, you're still here—sitting beside him in the shade of a tree, legs stretched out, your presence quiet yet steady. You don’t say anything, and he doesn’t need you to. That’s what he likes about you. You don’t fill the silence with empty words or meaningless comfort. You don’t try to fix him, like so many others before you.

You just exist beside him and that’s enough.

Leona doesn’t remember when you became his safe place.

At some point, your presence became a constant, as natural as the way he stretches out on the grass for an afternoon nap or the way the sun burns through the endless sky. You were just there—like an inevitable force of nature.

And damn if he doesn’t resent how much he needs it.

Because he does need it. He needs you in ways he’ll never admit aloud, in ways that make his stomach twist and his throat tighten. You make it so easy to believe, even when he’s spent a lifetime telling himself not to.

Somewhere along the way, you learned him too well. You can tell when his bitterness sharpens, when his patience wears thin, when he’s barely holding onto the threads of his temper. You don’t try to drag him into the light, but you don’t let him drown in the dark, either.

Instead, you just sit with him.

Like now.

Leona exhales, tipping his head back against the rough bark of the tree. The weight of the past few days lingers in his bones, making him feel heavier than usual. The exhaustion never fully leaves—it clings to him like a second skin.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Your voice is soft, cutting through the stillness.

Leona cracks an eye open. “Doubt it.”

You huff, barely phased by his dry remark. “You think nothing’s ever going to change. That you’re stuck in a cycle you can’t break. That waiting for things to get better is pointless.”

He stiffens, the words settling deep in his chest like stones. “You got all that just from lookin’ at me?”

“I got all that from knowing you.”

That shouldn’t make his heart stutter the way it does.

He doesn’t say anything, just turns his gaze back to the horizon. It stretches on endlessly, a vast expanse of golden plains and open sky. The view should be freeing. Instead, it feels like a cage with invisible walls.

A future that will never belong to him.

A throne that will never be his.

A world that will never see him as anything more than the spare.

The sun has never risen for men like him.

“I know what you’re going to say next,” he mutters. “That I should ‘keep trying.’ That things’ll ‘work out’ eventually. That if I just—”

“I’m not going to say that.”

He stops.

You tilt your head, a gentle smile pulling at your lips. “I’m not here to tell you to change. I’m not here to tell you things will magically get better. I just…” Your fingers brush over the back of his hand, tentative and warm. “I just want you to know that you don’t have to shoulder it alone.”

His breath catches.

No one has ever said that to him before.

No one has ever meant it before.

Leona has spent his whole life carrying the weight of his own bitterness, his own resentment, his own failures. No one ever told him he could set it down. No one ever offered to help him hold it.

No one but you.

His fingers twitch under yours.

Leona has never been one for dreams.

But when he looks at you, he wonders if maybe, he’s been waiting on the wrong thing all this time.

He doesn’t realize he’s in love with you until much later.

Maybe it’s the way you laugh, soft and easy, like the world has never once hurt you. Maybe it’s the way you look at him—like he’s not a disappointment, not a failure, not a second son who never mattered. Maybe it’s the way you never push him to be anything other than who he is.

Maybe it’s everything.

But when he finally does realize, it hits him like a landslide.

And suddenly, he’s terrified.

Because what if he loses this?

What if he loses you?

Leona doesn’t pray, but he does now.

He prays that you never leave. That you never wake up one day and decide that he’s too much trouble, that he’s too broken, that he’ll never be what you deserve.

He prays that this feeling—the quiet warmth that seeps into his bones whenever you’re around—never fades.

And yet, he still can’t bring himself to say it.

Not yet.

The words finally escape him on a night like this—under a sky filled with stars, your hand resting lightly in his, your head against his shoulder.

“Stay.” His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

You shift slightly, peering up at him with wide eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhales sharply, his grip tightening around yours. “No, I mean—” His throat works, the words catching like sandpaper. “Stay with me.”

Understanding dawns in your eyes, and for a moment, he thinks you might say no. That you might turn away.

But then you smile—soft, warm, home.

“Okay.”

Leona doesn’t believe in miracles.

But when you press your lips to his, slow and tender and real, he thinks that maybe the sun has been shining on him all along.

He just hadn’t noticed.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[rosemariiaa]

~Obsessed~

𐙚— pairing: Paige x Azzi

𐙚— rosie’s note: hi hi there! this is one is a little short only because i was struggling with the other fic that was supposed to be posted tonight :( , so spare me i’ll work on that and drop it asap so no worries! but enjoy p being obsessed (per usual), happy reading lovelies 💌

𐙚—link: rosie’s bookshelf

𐙚— themes: fluff, obsession (kinda)

𐙚— taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @sierrale8ne @imaginespazzi @pbaz7 @bueckersbitch @ldapper @makethemhoesmad

Obsession gets a bad reputation.

People throw the word around like it’s some kind of sickness, like it’s something to be ashamed of. They make it sound desperate, unhealthy, like the person on the other end of it has no control over themselves. Like caring too much, or noticing too much, or wanting too much makes you weak.

People might see obsession as an expression of imbalance or weakness, as though the person experiencing it has lost their sense of self or become consumed in a way that’s unhealthy. It can be painted as a lack of boundaries, as if the person is so fixated that they can no longer think clearly or act rationally.

But I don’t see it that way.

Obsession doesn’t always have to be negative.

The truth is, the line between obsession and love or passion is often blurry. It’s about how you channel it, how you manage it. When you can let yourself feel deeply without losing yourself in it, obsession doesn’t need to be something to be ashamed of. Sometimes, it’s exactly that level of investment that makes things meaningful.

Being obsessed means you see the details—the things no one else notices. It means you care enough to memorize the way someone bites their lip when they’re thinking or the way their laugh changes depending on whether they actually find something funny or if they’re just being polite.

And when it comes to Azzi, yeah, maybe I’m obsessed.

Actually, not maybe. I am.

And I don’t care. I take pride in it.

I take pride in the fact that I can pick her voice out of a crowd before I even see her. That I know the difference between her real smile and the one she gives when she’s just trying to be nice. That I know she has a playlist for every mood, even though she always pretends she’s too busy to mess with that kind of stuff.

There’s something satisfying about knowing her like that—like I’m in on some big secret that no one else has figured out yet.

Take last week, for example. We were sitting on her couch after practice, both exhausted, the TV playing some rom com movie neither of us was paying attention to. Azzi was scrolling through her phone, her face soft in the glow of the screen. I wasn’t even watching the movie anymore. I was watching her. I always do.

The way her brow furrowed a little as she read something. The way she tucked her legs under herself like she was trying to make herself smaller, even though she already takes up so little space. The way she absentmindedly played with the drawstring of her hoodie, a tiny detail that no one else would’ve even noticed.

I couldn’t help it. I had to say something.

“What’re you thinking about?” I asked, my voice cutting through the quiet.

Azzi glanced up at me, her expression unreadable for a moment before she shrugged. “Nothing important.”

But I could tell by the way she said it that it was important—at least to her.

And that’s the thing. I don’t think anyone else would’ve caught that. No one else would’ve seen the way her lips twitched like she was holding back a smile or the way her eyes softened like she was glad someone had asked.

I don’t mind being obsessed with her because it means I get to see her like this. In moments when she’s not “Azzi the stud” or “Azzi the calm and collected one.” When she’s just… Azzi.

And yeah, I’ll admit it: I look at her like she’s the only person in the room. But can you blame me?

She has this way of pulling me in without even trying. Like everything else fades, and it’s just her—her laugh, her smile, the way her curls frame her face by themselves when she’s not paying attention.

If that makes me obsessed, then fine. I’ll own it.

Because I don’t think obsession is a bad thing. Not when it means loving someone like this. Not when it means knowing someone in a way that no one else does.

Not when it’s her.

[fanzou]

✗ Genre: Smut

“What, best friends don’t fuck?” He poses the questions so innocently, like it’s nothing. He’s kneeling between your legs and his very prominent bulge is inches close to you.

“S-Sanji…” You’re blushing like a damn virgin, “If someone finds us out—”

“—But they won’t, we’ll be quiet, princess. Trust me.” He’s rubbing his broad hand across your lap and your skirt is threatening to expose so much more than you wanted it to, and you’d venture to think that’s exactly what he was trying to make happen.

You’re nervous, only because anyone could walk right through that wooden door into the dark room you both were in. Sanji doesn’t give a shit, and it’s written all over his face and body.

You let out a shaky breath. “Okay, fine… but make it quick alright?”

His breath hitches, and you can see his muscles relax a little bit over your demand. He’s waited so long for this and tonight was the perfect night to finally make a move. Everyone was drunk out their mind anyways, so it didn’t matter. You were the only two fully conscious on board, though the concept seems surprising.

He’s removing his belt, and his long fingers moving so skillfully makes the heat in between your legs so much more noticeable. It’s practically radiating off of you and Sanji digs his thigh closer between your legs.

You didn’t wanna seem eager but the image in front of you was nothing short of exciting and it’s getting you to almost hypnotically move your hands to take off your panties while the man across from you already had his cock sprung and ready to put inside of you. What can he say? You told him to make it quick.

With your bare cunt facing him and your legs spread wide, you’re practically begging him to start his attack. Even though this was something that he wanted to make special, thoughtful and something never to forget, he guessed this could suffice.

Sanji lines himself up, and presses his cock against you. The intrusion was so much more than you thought it’d be. And it feels amazing. Amazing in the worst and best ways, the way it fully splits you and stuffs you all the same. It’s pleasurable and painful at the same time.

But you can’t let anyone sniff you both out. You’ll just have to get your quick orgasm in before anyone starts to suspect where you both have run off to. “Fuuuuuck… g-go… faster.”

And so he obeys, so much for truly being able to relish it.

He’s hardly a man who liked to be rushed during sex, his curved cock is grazing your insides just a little rougher than when he started and the whimper you let out proves it. “D-Don’t worry my love… next time… it’ll be so much more better. But I couldn’t stand it anymore. ‘Really fuckin’ needed you… oh shit.”

Your pleasure subsides for a second trying to puzzle together his insinuation, but then you hear something; footsteps.

Your eyes widen and dart at the door, then to Sanji, but he doesn’t care, he just comes closer to you and puts hand over your mouth. His grin gets wider and wider.

And he’s fucking you so much more quieter but there’s so much power in his thrusts, he tries not to push against your thighs too much because he knows the slapping will probably alert whoever was walking towards your room. He sloppily tries covering your sides with a blanket, this’ll work, he says, and he’s back to fucking you just a little harder than he did before.

You make it known to him, vocally, that you really appreciated the gesture.

The footsteps get louder and closer to where you can almost feel the vibrations off the floor. Sanji’s hand is like tape around your mouth, he wants you quiet but he fucks you like he’s daring you. He looks at you, then he looks to the door.

The steps are right by the door now, and they stop. Your heart drops.

“Where do you think shitty cook’s gone? Need him to get me some more booze.”

Sanji’s ecstatic. Like he wants Zoro to walk in, walk in on you getting fucked like your life depended on it. And you could sit here and pretend that you were absolutely in great terror of being found out by someone about the predicament you were in, but your pussy told the truth.

Much to Sanji’s disappointment, his sloppy and drunk footsteps walk the other direction. He removes his hand and watches your frustrated expression manifest.

You were clenching around him tighter and tighter and he knew exactly what that meant for you, the closer proximity between his cock in your tightened cunt made him feel like reeling into his own orgasm.

“You wanted him to walk in. Didn’t y-you? Yeah. You’re so d-dirty… ‘Wanted this more than me, huh princess?”

You could only take so much dirty talk. “Saaaaaaanji… stop talking… oh—” he pushes impossibly deep inside of you, and that’s when you let go. It was too much.

You squirted everywhere. And that was an understatement. It was bad. Like a lot of it went onto the floor and you’d have to clean it immediately after. But for now, Sanji’s chasing his own high. “You’re so… perfect. Fuck you’re amazing. Where do you want me, beautiful?” His thrusts get messy and the blanket is long gone, his skin on yours.

Not wanting anymore mess and a more obvious crime scene, “Just c-cum on my—fuck—stom-ach.

He obeys, and pulls out, he strokes himself on your stomach, with some of it pulling into your belly button. “Yeeees princeeeeess, oh shit…”

His chest is moving up and down and he stares at you lovingly before he smiles, it’s a genuine one, not laced with anything impure or malicious this time, fortunately for you. He’s back to normal Sanji.

“So… what would you have done if he walked in?” You ask him, genuinely curious.

“He’s plastered so, would’ve just made him watch us fuck. He probably wouldn’t have remembered it anyway.” He lays down next to you. “And if he did? ‘Nother thing to hold over his head.” You nuzzle into his chest for the short duration of time you had.

✗ A/N: Was drunk writing this. Do not mind the grammatical errors if there is any.

[fear-is-truth]

nsfw | mdni !

rafe cameron has always been spoiled, always had everything handed to him—except when it comes to you.

you make him work for it. make him beg, even when he’s too proud to admit it. like now, when he’s got you pinned against the mattress, hands braced against the headboard, legs spread. and yet, he still doesn’t have enough.

“rafe,” you whine, rolling your hips back against him, feeling the way he twitches, how badly he wants it.

“don’t,” he bites out, voice rough with restraint. “don’t fucking play with me right now.”

you hum, tilting your head, all faux-innocence, because you know exactly what you’re doing. he’s already stripped you bare, already worked you open with his fingers, but he hasn’t given in yet—hasn’t pushed in, hasn’t fucked you like you both know he’s dying to. and it’s killing him. his hands tighten their grip on your waist, trembling slightly.

“you think this is funny?”

you do. just a little.

but then rafe makes a sound, a desperate and broken bubbling from his throat, and suddenly, it’s not funny anymore. suddenly, you need him just as bad as he needs you. you reach back, fingers curling around the back of his neck, nails scratching at his scalp.

“please,” you whisper.

and that’s all it takes.

he’s inside you in an instant, a sharp thrust that makes you gasp, makes your knuckles pale from gripping the headband for leverage. he groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, one hand bracing against the mattress while the other drags up your stomach.

“you think i was gonna wait forever?” his voice rasping against your ear, every word punctuated by a roll of his hips, deep and unrelenting. “not fucking happening.”

you keen, pushing back against him, taking him deeper, and rafe chokes out a curse, his grip tightening, his body pressing against yours like he’s trying to crawl inside you.

“so fucking greedy,” he groans, his hand sliding up to your throat, tilting your head back so he can press his lips to the side of your jaw. “but you like it when i give you what you want, don’t you?”

he’s right. you do.

but the way he’s fucking into you now, makes it clear—he likes it even more

[regressionschool]

PAMPERS PUBLIC SCHOOL REFORM: EDUCATION REIMAGINED OR REGRESSION GONE TOO FAR?

By Emily Dawson, Investigative Reporter

For years, education reform has been a topic of heated debate. Traditional schooling often leaves students overwhelmed by stress, struggling with expectations, and ill-prepared for real life. In response, school districts across the country have begun partnering with Pampers Corporation to introduce a radically new approach to learning—one that eliminates unnecessary pressure, fosters emotional well-being, and removes the burdens of growing up too quickly.

The Pampers Public School Reform Program has now fully replaced traditional education in multiple districts, converting high schools into structured learning environments tailored to a simpler, more guided lifestyle. Students are relieved of responsibilities that once weighed them down, such as complex coursework, college preparation, and even basic hygiene routines. In their place? A nurturing, preschool-style environment where comfort and security come first.

While many officials praise the program’s success, not everyone is celebrating.

"I’m Not a Toddler—Why Are They Treating Me Like One?"

Emma Reynolds, 18, had spent years working toward an honors diploma, with hopes of attending a prestigious university. But when her high school was converted to a Pampers Academy, she found herself pulled into a system she never agreed to.

"It’s not school—it’s a daycare," Emma hisses, gripping the edge of her desk, which is barely big enough to accommodate her.

Around her, the other students seem perfectly content in their new reality. The majority have already transitioned to full-time Pampers, no longer expected to even attempt bathroom breaks. Many sit in their seats with thickly padded bottoms, others waddle freely around the classroom, their sagging diapers peeking out from beneath colorful onesies. Some suckle on pacifiers while listening to their teacher read a picture book aloud, their attention spans seemingly far removed from any concern about essays, exams, or college applications.

Emma isn’t like them. She remembers what school used to be.

"They call me ‘sweetie’ and ‘princess’ and pat my head when I get answers right. They make me sit crisscross-applesauce on the rug during storytime. They don’t teach math, they teach shapes. We have scheduled nap times. And worst of all?" She shifts uncomfortably, her thick pull-ups rustling beneath her skirt. "They won’t even let us use the bathroom like normal people."

Under the Pampers system, students are placed in protective undergarments based on their "developmental needs." For most, that means ultra-absorbent Pampers diapers, ensuring accidents never disrupt classroom learning. Only a handful, like Emma, are still permitted pull-ups, though even that comes with restrictions.

"I told them I don’t need them. I told them I can hold it during class. But guess what?" She clenches her fists. "I couldn’t."

She shakes her head, looking away. "And when you have an accident, they make a big deal about it. They take you to the ‘quiet corner,’ change you, tell you it’s okay, and give you a sticker for ‘trying your best.’ It’s humiliating. But the worst part?" She swallows hard. "The more accidents you have, the more they ‘adjust’ your routine."

At first, Emma was only required to wear pull-ups during class. Now, she’s in them full-time. She doesn’t know what the next "adjustment" will be.

"What happens if they decide I don’t need pull-ups anymore?" she whispers. "What happens if they decide I need…more?"

A Mother’s Concern: “I Don’t Know How Much Longer She’ll Last”

Emma’s mother, Debbie Hall, initially believed the program was an opportunity for her daughter to learn patience and adapt to new challenges. Now, she isn’t so sure.

"She’s been fighting this since day one," Debbie admits, rubbing her temples. "But every time she resists, the school just… doubles down."

At first, Emma refused to use her Pampers-issued pull-ups, insisting she would simply wait until she got home. It didn’t last.

"She told me she’d hold it," Debbie sighs, shaking her head. "She didn’t."

When the school called, Debbie was asked to bring a fresh pull-up and a change of clothes—a moment she describes as one of the most surreal experiences of her life.

"I stood outside the classroom, holding a pack of training pants meant for toddlers, about to hand them to my eighteen-year-old daughter." She exhales sharply. "I don’t know how much longer she’ll last before she stops fighting it."

And that, she fears, is exactly what Pampers wants.

Success Stories: “Happier, Healthier Students”

Despite cases like Emma’s, school officials and many parents insist the program is working. According to Superintendent Laura Whitmore, dropout rates have plummeted, student anxiety is at an all-time low, and behavioral issues are almost nonexistent.

"When we take away the pressures of growing up too fast, we allow students to flourish in a safe, nurturing space," Whitmore explains. "Pampers helps us create a structured learning environment where students can focus on emotional well-being and positive reinforcement.

Studies show that students in the program are better rested, less anxious, and more cooperative. Many enthusiastically embrace their new routine, growing attached to naptime, play-based learning, and the security of their Pampers uniforms.

"Some students come in fighting," Whitmore admits. "But as they settle into the routine, they come to appreciate the comfort and care we provide. And the best part? They never have to worry about making ‘big kid’ mistakes again."

The Future of Education?

With more schools adopting the Pampers model, traditional high school education may soon become a thing of the past. For students like Emma, who still long for independence, the future remains uncertain. But for many others, a world without adult pressures, expectations, or even bathroom breaks is a dream come true.

And as the Pampers program continues to expand, one thing is clear:

For the next generation, growing up may no longer be necessary.

(Sponsored in part by Pampers Corporation. Because learning should be comfortable.)

[sapsuckers-and-stardust]

This is one of those headcanons I highly disagree with just because of the nature of chess. Chess was one of the first games that computers cleared us at. The reason we don’t have big human-computer chess matches anymore is because the computers literally just annihilate and grandmasters won’t do it. I am not saying this because Spock is a computer or even acts like a computer, but…

Chess is a game that is won by effectively calculating the effects of a move and it’s followups. “Inspiration” and “throwing them off their game” isn’t how chess works, especially not against someone who, under a zero-stakes activity like recreational chess, is unflappable. If you read any chess forum about how “head games” play into the overall game play, it quickly becomes clear that Spock (respectfully) wouldn’t give a single fuck about anything Kirk could do to try and mess with him. Kirk could be excellent at chess, and be able to beat Spock, but the idea that he clears Spock just doesn’t make sense to me.

Spock is shown on screen to be able to mentally process mathematical data much faster than anyone on board the ship— the essential skill of chess is looking ahead and seeing the outcome each move has on the game. The first time he played kirk he may have been distracted trying to figure out “what the fuck is this man doing” but I see him realizing after a few losses the answer is either “nothing at all” or “making tactical moves I can work around.” Spock just has the rote computing power (coupled with a more efficient humanoid brain that doesn’t have to process quadrillions of stupid moves like a computer does) to crush at chess.

You know those crazy odds Spock loves to cook up? “The odds against you and I both being killed are 2,228.7 to 1…” that’s a chess skill, especially if he approaches it from the computer-style of playing (which I suspect he would— in “court martial” he even says he programs the ship’s computer to play chess, so he knows about these things). That’s looking at the possible future outcomes and seeing what could happen if things go one way or the other. He’s literally playing chess the computer way all the time with everything.

From a literary standpoint the idea that it’s important for Kirk to be better at Spock than something is excellent and it makes for good storytelling but it’s just one of those things that seems so bizarrely out of place to me because chess isn’t a game of emotion or head games or anything of the sort. A being with as much mental computing power as Spock would simply do exceptionally well. I’m not saying Spock would obliterate Jim, they might be evenly matched. But I think it’s a little silly to assert that Jim is the clear chess winner.

The only counterpoint I have to this is if Spock actually doesn’t care about chess in the slightest and only started doing it because it means he gets to hangout with Kirk for hours on end, then yes, Kirk may in fact clear Spock. This however, is not supported in text because he mentioned programming a chess computer and playing against it for fun.

Kirk is better at chess than Spock

[beloveds-embrace]

Continuation to dragon price and chubby reader please 🙏😞

Diluc pfp i love u

Original Post

John Price is not a patient man. Not when it comes to things that are his.

And you, sweetheart, are already his. You just don’t know it yet.

He’s been careful, methodical, weaving his presence into your life like an unshakable constant. He’s a fixture in your mornings, a reliable shadow at your counter, and whether you know it or not, you’ve begun to expect him. Your smile comes easier when you see him, your eyes seeking him out. You chat with him without hesitation, your voice warm and sweet, and he tucks every detail away, hoarding even the very sound of you, the shape of your words like a dragon collects gold.

But it’s not enough.

Not when you’re still here, in this little café, where anyone can walk in and see you, talk to you, try to take what is his. It sets his teeth on edge, his tail twitching, scales bristling beneath his clothes when he catches another man watching you too long. They linger at the counter, pretending they don’t notice the way his gaze darkens, the way his body shifts ever so slightly toward you in silent, possessive warning.

They don’t see it. But you do.

He knows you notice. How could you not? He’s big in ways that command attention, and though he reigns in the more fearsome parts of himself unless needed, there’s an undeniable weight to his presence, something that makes you still for half a second before recovering with that soft smile.

But he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flick to him when someone stands too close, or how you visibly relax when he’s near. He doesn’t miss how, even if you don’t understand why, you seem to gravitate toward him.

Good.

His plan is simple; You like him- he knows you do. He can smell it, if he wouldn’t even consider anything else. You trust him, at least enough to lean into his presence when you’re uncertain. And that’s all he needs to start pulling you in.

“You work too much, love.” He comments one morning, leaning on the counter as you prepare his tea. You laugh, shaking your head. Today, you’ve forgobe your usual uniform pants and are wearing a skirt instead. It cups the soft mound of your belly, your love handles, and John has never felt hungrier in all his life.

“Says you.”

He smirks, but his gaze doesn’t waver. “I mean it. You’re always here.”

You hum, shrugging. “It’s my job.”

“I’d wager you don’t take much time for yourself,” he says, and when you look up at him, brow raised, he tilts his head, voice dropping into something lower, warmer, that has you ducking your head and a shy smile blooming on your pretty face. “Let me take you out, love.”

The words settle between you, heavy and inevitable. You blink, momentarily caught off guard, before you offer him a shy nod.

“As a thank you for the tea?” You tease.

“As a thank you for puttin’ up with me, lovie.”

It’s playful, easy, but the way he looks at you makes your breath hitch. You chew your lip, glancing at the line forming behind him.

“I- ”

“I’ll pick you up after your shift,” he cuts in smoothly, already knowing your answer. Already knowing you won’t say no.

And you don’t.

The first outing is simple; desserts at another place, something neutral, something easy. He doesn’t overwhelm, doesn’t push, but he watches. He takes note of how you react to him outside of work, how you lean into his warmth without realizing it, how your eyes soften when he pays for your food without a second thought- and he makes note of which ones are your favorite.

The next time, it’s dinner. And the time after that, it’s a night drive to the hills, where he lets you see a glimpse of him, of the way his eyes gleam in the dark, the way his wings spread beneath the moonlight.

And through it all, he talks about his boys. About Johnny, who would adore your laugh, who would try to make you smile every second of the day. About Kyle, who would charm you effortlessly, but who would love you with a quiet steadiness that would never waver. About Simon, who would linger in your periphery until you beckoned him closer, who would tuck you into his arms and keep you there like a secret only he was meant to hold.

He speaks of them as though they are already yours. As though you are already theirs.

And when he finally invites you to his home, to the place where his hoard waits, it’s not a request.

It’s a confirmation.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing over your wrist, reverent, aching, and hungry. He’s been so patient. His boys have been so patient, even if they pore over ever little slip of you he brings home. He could have been forceful and you’d never would have been able to fight back against him- but he didn’t. You don’t deserve such treatment unwarranted, and John has lived a long life- darlings like you always folded, anyways.

“Come home, love.”

[tangerineastronaut]

heavy ♥ s.mingi

You're so very sorry.

Pairing: Mingi x Fem!Reader Genre: smut. just pure smut. slight fluff at the end, 99% smut. Requested: No w.c. 3.9k Warnings: Everything is consensual - rough sex, dirty talk and more dirty talk, choking/breathplay, deep throating, name calling, degradation, slight talk of somno, Mingi seems like an asshole, sort of noncon but not really, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, reader doesn't talk much during, established relationship If you notice other potentially triggering content please let me know so I can add it. A/N: I...I have no excuses. Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

“Mingi, I-I‘m sorry—”

“You fucking will be.”

You struggled with the key to unlock the door; he was bearing down on you, already grinding against your ass, but that was your fault, wasn’t it?

You thought it’d be cute to tease him—

> Might’ve forgotten my panties…wish you were inside me.

—but the look he’d given you after opening his phone…the way his jaw ticked, how he’d tugged at the crotch of his jeans. You knew you’d fucked up. 

Finally, it opened, though you almost wished it hadn’t. Mingi grabbed your arm and slammed the door, throwing you against it. 

“Wanna say it again?” he asks, one hand moving to your throat. He towers over you, plump lips forming a half snarl. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. You whimper, the sound dying into a squeak as he puts pressure on your trachea with his thumb. “Say it. I love when you do. It’s easier to fuck that pretty face when I’m mad at it.”

“I-I…” you begin with a choked sob. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I—”

Mingi curses, shoving you to your knees with his heavy grip. When he took his hand off your throat, you began taking deep breaths—it’d be a while before you weren’t gasping for air anymore. You glance up. 

His dark eyes were half lidded, never leaving you as he worked at his jeans. You swallowed, an instinctual response to the sound of the button popping and zipper going down. 

“Open that slutty fucking mouth, baby. Wanna see you drool,” he orders. You open your mouth and keep it open. It’s like muscle memory; you can already taste him. 

Mingi pushes the material down his thighs, stopping half way. His spandex boxers go next, the snap of elastic making you jump. When his cock is freed, it springs into your face, already swollen and ready to be sucked and fucked. 

That was your fault. 

“Don’t look so fucking surprised, y/n,” Mingi says, one large hand fisting your hair and the other gripping his cock. “Wanna send me filthy texts during dinner? Hm? Tell me you’re not wearing panties? Did you think I wouldn’t make you choke on this fucking dick?”

You whimper, feeling drool beginning to leak down your chin. Mingi smirks, rubbing the thick head into your spit.

“Say it, baby. Say it again.”

You sniffle, eyes burning. Mingi is unrelenting, gently bumping your head back against the door. 

“Say it for me, princess. Love that pretty mouth,” he coos in a deceptively smooth tone. You knew better; he was baiting you. You were nothing more than prey to him right now. “Please? One more time for me, be good just this fucking once.”

“I’m sor—”

The minute you try to speak, Mingi forces his cock inside. His hips thrust forward, pinning you against the door and stretching your lips open. He wants to fit it all in one go, to push the head into the back of your throat. When you gag, he grins. 

Your hands go to his hips, shoving, as if that’d do anything. He moved his hand to get a better grip on your hair, tilting your head back. 

“Mmn…hold still, pretty. Gonna use that mouth,” he growls. You dig your nails into his thighs, making him hiss, but that doesn’t stop him from beginning to fuck. In and out, in and out, his cock stretches your throat, giving you seconds to breathe between thrusts. 

Mingi fucks your face until your gagging becomes more violent, pulling out in time to watch you cough and drool on yourself. He still had a tight grip on your hair, and the other went to his cock, now slick with your saliva. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he hums, stroking himself. It’s somehow menacing, the way his thumb rubs over the head. A threat. “You look scared.”

“I won’t do it again,” you whine softly, swallowing down a mix of spit and precum. “P-Promise.”

Mingi stares down at you until you squirm. He suddenly kneels down and you flinch, though he yanks you forward by your hair. 

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, kissing the wet corner of your mouth. “You have ten different ways, baby. Half of them don’t need words. Tell me to stop treating you like a whore.”

Fuck. 

You swallow, nails digging into your palms. Your cheeks flush red from shame and Mingi chuckles. He knew you wouldn't, that you know the signals, the ones you'd agreed on when someone decided it was too much, words and taps and gestures.

He was rubbing it in your face—just how much of a fuckdoll you turned into for him.

“No? Don’t tell me you like being treated like this,” he taunts you, a look of faux concern on his gorgeous face. “Nothing but a pretty collection of warm holes for me to choose from. I’ve got plans for you and this cock, baby. Gonna make you suck it some more, then it’s gonna go in that needy little hole between your legs. It’s not coming out of there until you’ve taken every drop of cum from me. Tell me not to do it, baby.”

When you don’t answer, refusing to look at him, Mingi yanks your face toward him with your hair. He forces his mouth over yours, groaning into you as his tongue slips inside. You feel hot tears rolling down your cheeks as he takes from you, rubbing his cock against your exposed thigh beneath your dress. He sucks and licks and nips the soft flesh of your mouth and tongue, holding you open by the jaw.

Mingi sucks your lower lip and bites it, making you squeak. He laughs and finally releases you, only for you to fall back against the door. 

Strings of drool stretch between you, and you shudder when he licks his lips. But the sensuality is dampened as he stands to his full height, gripping his fat cock and staring down at you. 

“Open wide, babygirl. That’s it…fuck yes. Stop moving, baby. Just take it. If I feel teeth, 'm gonna make it hurt, yeah?"

Your throat is numb. 

Your jaw aches, your fingers are curled into the carpet, but your eyes haven’t left him. He’s standing over you as he’s been doing for the past half hour, though now both of his hands hold your head in place for him. They’re so fucking big, gripping tight as he uses your mouth like a fleshlight. When you’re lucky, you see him bite his lip and whisper that he loves you; otherwise he’s got his head tilted back, chest heaving as he fucks into your mouth. 

“That’s it, so fucking dirty,” Mingi groans, hissing as your teeth catch on his massive cock. “I should make you choke on my cum, baby. Should hold that pretty head down until I pump it right down your throat. Feed you like a fucking whore.”

Your dress is soaked in spit and precum, as it’s been dripping down your chin. You consider pulling it off, but you don’t want to expedite his plans for you. So you sit there in your ruined dress, letting the love of your life abuse your throat over and over. 

Mingi looks down at you, thumb brushing over your lips where they’re stretched open, forced by his cock. He bites his lip, cursing under his breath. 

“Say it again, baby.”

“Nnh…” you choke around him. He licks his lips and nods, so you do your best to please him. “Nnhn…nnh…”

Your eyes are wet with tears; drool leaks out around his cock, and you helplessly swallow as you try to speak with the obstruction in your mouth. Mingi watches as though enthralled, nodding the more you choke on words.

“Nnh…”

You finally give up when you splutter with a sob. 

Mingi pauses and growls. He throws an arm against the door, taking the other hand off your face as he pulls out. You quickly gasp for air before he begins thrusting again. 

Without his hands keeping you steady, your head hits against the door repeatedly. Mingi slides his hand behind your head, fisting your hair once again, then leans forward until there’s no space left between him, you, and the surface behind you. Each thrust is less than a few centimeters as he grinds against your esophagus. You weakly cry until he decides he’s had enough, stuffing himself down your throat for a few seconds before yanking it out. You gasp and fall onto your hands and knees, heaving for air. 

Your throat feels raw, your cheeks are wet, your knees ache from sitting on them for so long, but Mingi pulls at you as though impatient. 

You expect him to carry you to the bedroom, probably throw you on the bed, but while you catch your breath you feel his hand on the back of your head. 

“M-Ming—”

“Stick that fucking ass up,” he grunts, shoving your face into the carpet. Your cries are muffled against the plush surface as he holds your head down. 

Where you expect to feel his cock, you instead feel his tongue lick between your sticky cunt lips. You jolt, only for him to chuckle. He says nothing else before burying his face in your pussy. 

You release a loud cry, your hips wriggling from the sensitivity as he sucks your clit into his mouth without waiting. You whine and gasp, fisting the carpet as you moan against it. 

Mingi lets go of your hair only to hug your ass against his face. He sucks and licks, mouthing at your labia and lapping at your slit like candy. He groans and rubs his face between your legs, plush lips feeling like heaven as he french kisses your cunt. 

When he suckles your clit again, you squeak, mouth falling open. He groans and teases the bundle of his nerves in his warm mouth, tongue sliding below the hood until you’re twitching from the overstimulation. He releases it only to lick up and down your vulva repeatedly, as though savoring a popsicle.

“Say something, baby. Tell me how it feels,” he says, slurping and smacking his lips. He moans before diving in again, throat working as he swallows your sweet juices. You shudder, licking your lips from where your front half is flopped against the carpet. 

“Mm. G-good,” you mumble. Mingi smacks your ass so hard you cry out. 

“Fuck, that’s right. Such a juicy cunt,” he murmurs, hands moving to your thighs. He grabs your ass and uses his thumbs to pull apart your pussy. You hear him suck a finger into his mouth before it prods at your hole, making you clench around nothing. 

“Don’t pretend like I haven’t seen this pussy swallow all eight inches of me, baby. Gonna fuck up this little hole until you can’t sit right.”

You whine and jump when he begins sliding his index finger inside, long and firm, though not enough. Your pussy flutters and Mingi moans, thrusting his cock against your thigh. 

“Got me rutting like a fucking dog after a bitch in heat,” he growls, roughly smacking your ass. “Put those legs together. Gonna use all of you.”

You do as he asks, a little dizzy as you shuffle to close your legs, ass still in the air. His finger begins steadily pumping into you, though you feel something slick and hard wedging itself between your thighs. 

“Mmn…fuck, love your thick fucking thighs baby, takes my cock almost as good as your filthy little cunt,” Mingi groans, hooking the finger inside you. You yelp, and he does it again, and again, roughly poking the inner bundle of nerves. Each time you move, you grind on his cock, your thighs giving him a tight squeeze to fuck into. 

You begin pushing back on his finger, so he adds another. The stretch is good, but nothing like what he’ll feel like when he’s inside you. 

“Look at you,” he groans, watching as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers. He squeezes in a third and you moan, ass lazily bouncing against his knuckles. “My nasty little girl. Always wants to act so sweet, you just want me to climb on top and pick a hole to use, right?”

“Mmnn…” you mumble, feeling the pad of his finger stroke your inner walls. You were getting desperate, and you hated that. Desperate you is exactly why Mingi gets like this—he knows you. 

“I love playing with this one, like how you scream and beg me to put something in that needy cunt at the same time,” he hums. His thumb rubs over your asshole, and you feel the tight ring of muscle respond to his touch. He chuckles quietly, leaning over you, fingers still fucking into you. “I think I’m gonna use my pretty girl’s pussy. See how she takes it when I fuck her like the horny bitch she is.”

“Mingi,” you whine, currently the only word in your sex-dumb vocabulary. He sighs, pulling his fingers out. You shiver at the cold emptiness, but then your boyfriend is suddenly getting ready to fuck you on the floor of your entryway.

“Bedroom?” you manage to ask, but a firm hand on the back of your neck silences you by smothering your face into the carpet.

“You think you deserve a soft bed right now?” Mingi asks darkly. You hear shuffling; he slips off his jeans and tosses them to the side. When you try to look back at him where he’s unbuttoning his shirt, he smacks your ass, nearly sending you rolling to your side. 

“The bed is where I fuck my good girl,” he says, pulling you back against his hips. He nudges his cock between your thighs again, thrusting once, hard, and you feel the tip of his cock poking your lower belly. “You’re my bad girl, my little whore who’s desperate for this cock. You’re gonna get fucked right here in the floor.”

You moan softly, and Mingi peels you open again. He squeezes the flesh of your ass, toying with the way your pussy lips stretch open. 

“So fucking wet, look how sloppy you are, baby. Your needy little cunt wants it,” he hums. Mingi flicks your clit, making you shudder violently; he moans in approval before sucking his fingers into his mouth. 

He apparently can’t wait any longer, as he begins to mount you, pulling you beneath him with large hands gripping your waist. You try to lift your upper half, though he shoves you down again. 

“Keep your fucking head down,” he growls, licking his palm and roughly jerking his cock a few times. “Don’t worry about this little cunt, baby. Just focus on staying conscious, yeah? Hate it when I have to hold you up.”

You whimper and wiggle your ass, earning another slap, though it’s not as hard as the last few. This is for a good reason, as he’s tugging you back to him. 

Mingi uses one hand to grip your ass cheek, opening you up to him. He groans, gripping his cock and rubbing it up and down your lips, following the path of his tongue minutes ago. He uses two fingers to hold you open, revealing your hole—he slots his cock against it and begins to push.

You moan and arch your back, gritting your teeth at the sensation of being opened. Mingi’s cock is so fucking thick, it stretches you open deliciously. You can feel every vein, every dip in the swollen member as it slides inside of you, inch by inch. No part of your insides are left untouched. 

You wince when the head nudges your cervix, though Mingi only laughs. 

“You’re not done yet, baby. Open up that cunt for me,” he growls, thrusting once. You whimper as you’re thrown forward. 

“H-Hurts,” you mumble, reaching back to push at his waist. Mingi grabs your arm and twists it around your back, putting pressure on you as he works himself deeper. 

“I know it can fit,” he says, pushing harder. “I’ve been balls to pussy inside of you and had you begging for more. Now let me in before I make it fit. You don’t like it when I do that, remember?”

You shudder at the memories of being pinned down, Mingi’s fingers keeping your hole stretched as he wedges his cock inside, all the while telling you it’s gonna look so pretty, you being wrapped around him.

He was wrong. You loved that. 

He begins rutting against you, ignoring your whines of pain as his cock somehow manages to slip further inside. It takes one last thrust before he breaks you open, and his balls are pressed tightly to your clit. You moan, able to feel him deep inside you. 

“Fuuuuck,” Mingi groans, and you remember why you’re so willing to be used by him—that sound, the sound of him being buried inside his girl, caught between wanting to love her sweetly and fuck her like a whore. 

“Feel it?” he asks, grabbing your hips and leaning over you. “Feel it inside, baby? Gonna split you open on this fucking cock.”

“I-I said I was sorry,” you whine. Mingi smacks your ass, this time grabbing the plump flesh and squeezing. 

“You’re not sorry,” he chuckles, adjusting himself on his knees. “Not one fucking bit, y/n. You can fool every other bastard you’ve ever been with, but I know you, baby. I love you. That’s why I’m gonna fuck you up.”

Mingi saws into you relentlessly. 

Your upper half is pinned to the floor as he drags you onto his cock like a broken doll. He leans over you, using his weight on your body as he grabs both of your arms, pinning them to the floor. 

“So fucking gorgeous,” he whispers, hips working steadily to penetrate you. “You like to look dumb, baby. Like people to think you’re so fucking helpless. If someone saw this, saw what I’m doing to you…fuck, I’d be crucified. They’d say I’m taking advantage of a sweet girl, using her to feel good, like a pretty little cocksleeve.”

Mingi leans down, biting your shoulder until you yelp. His lips go to your ear as he grinds against your ass, his cock painfully knocking at your cervix. 

“Little do they know, huh? I’d have to beg you to stop instead, beg you to let me pull out of this sopping pussy before you milk me for my fucking cum.”

You moan softly, and Mingi fists your hair. He painfully yanks you off the floor, bending you at an odd angle to lean over and kiss you. It’s wet and desperate, more tongue than lips on both ends, but he doesn’t pull away. He leaves his mouth against yours and fucks you harder, deeper, free hand gripping your waist and nailing you to the floor. 

“Can I, baby?” he groans. “Can I pull out? ‘m gonna pull out unless you beg. Beg me to stay inside this little pussy and make it hurt, let me pump my cum so deep it makes you nervous.”

You whine at his words, unwilling to say much thanks to your pride. But then you feel him begin to slip out, throwing a hand back to grab his hip. Mingi laughs until you dig your nails into his ass, throwing yourself back against him until he fucking whimpers. 

“Jesus fuck—”

“Don’t stop,” you plead breathlessly. “P-please, Mingi…keep going. Want you so bad.”

Mingi curses, using his knee to kick yours apart. You lose your balance and fall flat on the floor, though he curls an arm around your hips to keep you propped for him. 

“Yeah?” he asks, nosing the back of your neck. “Want it that bad? Need me to keep stuffing that needy little cunt?”

“Yes,” you moan shamelessly. Mingi lies on your back, now pressing all of his weight on top of you. It’s hard to breathe, though you can tell he’s close. 

“What if I fuck my load in your pretty pussy? Hm? Might put a baby or two in there,” he groans. You squeak and tilt your head back, surprised to find him right there. Your head rests against his shoulder and you bury your face against his throat. 

“D-Don’t care,” you mumble. “Want it. Want you.”

“I’m gonna go deep, babygirl. Gonna make sure your slutty little body can’t stop it.”

“Yes, fuck, y-yes, Mingi…” you whimper. He curses, his chest against your back. 

“G-Gonna cum, baby. Gonna put one inside you,” Mingi gasps. “You gonna take it? Make me pretty babies?”

You don’t have a chance to answer, as he suddenly groans, gripping your thighs and forcing them apart beneath him. He clumsily thrusts until he manages to snugly fit himself inside your body, head dropping against yours as he begins to cum. You feel his fat cock pulsing, pumping his sperm into you, raising a hand to his cheek. 

Mingi tilts his head and kisses you, the softest kiss all night. His plump lips are gentle against yours, and you forget for a few moments that you’re pinned down in an awkward position with his cock stuffed in you. 

A large hand slides beneath your bodies; before you can ask, Mingi’s thumb and index finger find your clit. He gently pinches, rolling the sensitive bud. 

“F-Fuck, Mingi—”

“Want you to cum. Want that cunt to squeeze my cock ‘till there’s nothing left,” he groans against your ear. You moan as he rubs at your clit, though it’s not until he begins gently thrusting again that you feel yourself coming undone. 

The minute your orgasm hits, it draws a sinful moan from Mingi as your muscles squeeze and work at his cock. You feel him try to pull out with a hiss of pain, though he’s unable to, forced to endure his sensitive cock being milked.

Serves him right, you think, wearily collapsing onto the floor. Mingi follows with a groan until you squirm, reminding him that he’s not a lapdog. 

For a few minutes, the apartment is quiet aside from the heavy breathing. Mingi finally pushes himself up, nearly falling again on unsteady arms. He grabs your waist with one hand and the base of his cock with the other, gently easing out of your sore cunt. You still wince, though it’s not too bad, but he mumbles an apology anyway. He keeps his hands on your ass once he’s successfully pulled out and gently squeezes.

“Shit,” Mingi breathes. You ‘hmm’ curiously, unwilling to lift your head, but he crawls above you to lean down and kiss your cheek. “Nothing. Just like watching my cum drip out like that.”

“Gross.” You crinkle your nose. 

“You okay?”

You glance up at Mingi, resisting the urge to smile. Only this boy could pin you to the floor one moment, and then look lost the next, like he’s not sure if he’s hurt you or not. The other Mingi wouldn’t care, the one who threatens to choke you and calls you a slut, that one was fun. But this one was yours, you loved this one.

“I think I’ve got carpet burn—”

“Me too,” he mumbles, looking at the redness on his forearms. 

“—but I’m okay.”

“Good,” he says with a sigh. He kisses your cheek until you turn your head, letting him kiss you properly. He's careful, soft lips molding against yours and looking at you in between kisses to make sure you’re satisfied. 

“I really am sorry,” you mumble against his lips. He hums softly, still kissing you. “For sending that text. I…I don’t know why I did that.”

“Please. Do not ever stop doing that,” he laughs, pinching your cheek. “That was hot as fuck.”

“Then why did you—did you have to throw me against the damn door?!” you huff, pulling back. Mingi sheepishly smiles, nosing at your cheek. You roll your eyes. 

“You liked it,” he sings. You pout. 

You liked it. 

[arkhambug]

JASON TODD hearing you try to mask your accent

“and, that isn’t—,” you enunciate, and jason doesn’t even hear the rest of what you’re saying. your words are coated in some weird neutral accent, and he’s sure you’re not even trying to sound any specific way other than not how you do. you’d started off normal, with that pretty southern twang, but somewhere through the conversation it was like a switch was flipped and you’d eased yourself into whatever this was.

he tries to tune back in, to listen to what you’re saying, but his brows are knitted together, and his nose is crinkled, and he hates this. “the hell are you doin’, ma?”

“what do you mean?” you push out, trying so damn hard not speak how you’re used to, and every word is wrong, not how it should sound coming from that pretty mouth. and jason shoots you a look, one that very much conveys ‘you know damn well what’ with a heavy frown, and you cave in an instant.

you try to explain. that you don’t want to sound like a hick, or a country bumpkin, or uneducated, because you’re not uneducated. and there’s reasons, of course there are, and they’re all stupid to him. coworkers mocking you, or friends making a poorly timed joke. maybe an overheard conversation, just something. but the one that stands out the most is that you don’t want his friends, or his family, or him to think of you that way.

and that’s the most stupid, by far, because how could his brilliant, wonderful partner ever worry he’d think you’re uneducated? he’s seen your brain work, seen you solve things in half the time it takes him to, and that’s when you’re giving him a chance.

and he drags you to him, across the couch, and pulls your face into his chest, and kisses the crown of your head. and he sings your praises, a million words of reassurance — about how you’re the smartest person he’s ever met, about how he could never think that, about how he’d kick someones ass for even insinuating that you weren’t as brilliant as you were

and it doesn’t fix everything, but it makes it okay, even just for a minute. it helps.

yeah idk how to end this????

straight up was gonna just give up at the fifth paragraph and call it

but anyways!! im insecure abt my accent and i want a big ass sweet man to hold me and kiss me and tell me my accent is pretty and that it doesnt make me sound dumb like people say it do 💪💪