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ariaste · 2 days ago

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So I was nodding along almost the whole way through, I was saying "Yeah!" and "Oof, I feel that, I can relate," until I got to:

"be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial" and "you must insist upon her [...] because she may still not yet know how".

And... yeah, no, kinda lost me there. Now, don't get me wrong! It is perfectly valid if you're doing those things essentially as kink (or not-really-kink-but-kinda-uses-the-same-tools-and-skillset) -- that is, you and your beloved have sat down and talked about her discomfort and her difficulties, and the difference between actual discomfort and cognitive dissonance at the concept of having nice things for herself, and how SHE wants you to recognize the distinction (and what signals SHE can give to provide cues in cases of ambiguity), and she's given you express permission to do the Being Forceful thing in pursuit of doing nice things for her and insisting or persuading her into accepting them -- AND y'all have talked about how she can communicate effectively when your insistence and persuasion isn't just not landing right for some reason or when it's actually starting to cross a line. If you've done all that: great, godspeed, I love your love. Make her accept all the compliments and adoration and the nice things she deserves! Your crusade to love her properly is righteous and just!

However. The vast majority of us across the spectrum of transness have experienced people crossing our boundaries, infantilizing and condescending to us, assuming that they know better than us about what we want, and ignoring our quiet, hesitant attempts to push back in small ways as we try to establish a foothold and figure out how much space we're allowed to take up. So... idk, putting "be forceful" and "insist because she may not yet know how" right next to solid, sound advice for all situations like "be patient, be generous" as if they are equivalent in meaning and impact and importance just... rubs me the wrong way. I think OP is absolutely speaking coming from a place of love and positivity, but... this needs caveats.

Because man-oh-man I have personally experienced this kind of thing from both sides: Just because you know that something is going to be good for someone doesn't mean they're going to appreciate having it forced on them. Just because you're absolutely sure that someone will be delighted by something doesn't mean that you're always going to be right.

Suppose the nice thing that someone (let's call them Tye) is doing for their partner (let's call her Mia) is... taking her out to her favorite Italian restaurant. Suppose Tye does this every week without fail, and they feel great about it because Mia loves this restaurant and she deserves to be treated like a princess. But what happens if one week she's bored of it, or not in the mood for Italian food? What happens if she says, "Hey, maybe we don't have to go today... I don't really need all this, what if we just eat toast and eggs--" and Tye says, "NO NO. NO, I LOVE YOU AND WE'RE GOING! YOU DESERVE IT!!!" Y'know what I'm saying??? That's not actually about loving Mia anymore, that's more about Tye getting off on their own heroism. And Mia is once again having to shut up and make herself small.

If the goal is to love your person and give her space to grow confident enough to accept and embrace all the love and wonderful things she deserves, the strategy of forcefulness and insistence COULD actually end up being counter-intuitively DISempowering if it is not explicitly consensual: It is removing opportunities for her to practice communicating her own needs, choosing happiness, and valuing herself where other people can see. It is reinforcing the lesson she has already learned from the rest of society, which is that her self-knowledge and boundaries are inferior to the wants and goals of the people around her.

Having a partner who is so passionate about loving us that they INSIST on giving us the things we secretly long for even when we're scared and shy of accepting them ourselves (and that they always telepathically know exactly what is going to be the perfect thing even before we know it ourselves, and they never once make a mistake in reading our mood when we come home tired from work, and they're always able to seamlessly adjust their plans to accommodate our whim)... It is a lovely fantasy. I will not deny that it is a very lovely fantasy and that I too would like to go to there. That sounds FANTASTIC.

But at the end of the day you are loving an adult human being and "no means no" must remain true even if you think you perceive a glint of longing in her eye (unless modified rules of consent have been established and ratified between you prior to this). Absolutely be patient, be generous, be loving, be attentive and proactive. But also you also gotta be okay with backing the hell off sometimes. You gotta be humble enough to acknowledge that sometimes you might be projecting your own past self's longings, rather than looking at the person in front of you with clear eyes. Create a space where it's safe for her to come out of her protective shell instead of dragging her out of it before she's ready. Encourage her to set her own boundaries, and express appreciation when she does so, especially when the boundaries are ones you disagree with or are personally inconvenienced by.

You cannot force a person to move faster along their journey of loving themself. Having someone insist on giving you love (and I'm once again speaking from experience here, as someone who has been on both sides) can sometimes end up making the beloved feel more guilty, more self-conscious, and more aware of their own "failures" and "deficiencies". To the person trying to do that style of love, it probably IS purely in good faith, but to the person receiving it, it can sometimes come across as a constant implicit reminder of, "I'm not doing it right, I'm still not doing it right, and everyone can tell. No matter how hard I try I still can't do it right, I hate myself even more now."

OP absolutely hit the nail on the head with everything about, "I had to stop [negative self-thoughts], I had to start [taking care of myself], I had to learn [those skills], but more than that I had to learn to ask[...]. it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train." 100% cosigned. That is exactly it -- training muscles. You can be someone's spotter and cheerleader, but you can't lift the weights for them, and forcing them to lift more than they're ready for often hurts more than it helps. Communicate! Establish a culture of consent even outside the bedroom! And continue to be patient even when it turns out that progress is not a straight line without any stumbles!

so many of the transfems i know spent their time pre-transition performing a kind of lifelong exercise in self-deprivation, the goal of which was to find out exactly how little a person needed to live. they starved themselves, dressed carelessly, shunned friends, and hollowed themselves out so as not to be burdens on anyone but themselves.

i see it now, too, in the girls around me. i'll ask if they want care – a home-cooked meal, relaxed company, sex without the expectation of reciprocation – and they say no, no, thank you, i don't need it; what would you like, what do you want, because in their head they're still doing that awful calculus, still training themselves to disappear in the eyes of the people around them.

i don't think i'd have died without transition – not in the conventional sense, at least – but to take that leap, i had to stop thinking of myself as a human experiment in fuel-efficient living and start nurturing the anemic, atrophied flame of desire in my heart. i had to learn to eat well, to exercise, to style myself beautiful, but harder than that, i had to learn to ask the people around me to work on my behalf in order to enrich my life and give me the things i wanted.

and i did it; i learned. and it was agony, but courage is a muscle you can train, and every day i get better at accepting gifts with the hungry gratitude i never learned in my years and years as a sad, scared, lonely boy.

so be patient with the trans girls in your life. better than that: be proactive, attentive, generous; be forceful, if you have to, and learn to distinguish real discomfort from the terrified reflex of self-denial that so many of us once learned to rely on.

and if you are so lucky as to love a trans girl, you must insist upon her. you must insist upon her happiness, her comfort, her pleasure, and her rest, because she may still not yet know how to make those demands for herself. if you can devote any amount of energy to becoming an engine that nurtures the flame of even a single tgirl then there is a place for you in trans heaven, which as far as i'm concerned is the only one worth going to

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fivestaralien · 2 days ago

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caddy princess

-> minygu x gn!reader

warnings+”: fluff!!, suggestive, reader is depicted as smaller than mingyu, reader and mingyu can not keep their hands to themselves, many golf references that I could not care less to double check if they made sense or not, pls don't ask me the color of his shirt word count: 1787 notes ִֶָ ࣪˖ mingyu on my mind. lmk what you think of this one!!! reblogs and comments help the most!! I had fun writing for him and tbh I find people that play golf vv attractive but I also think its one of the most BORING sports to watch. its a love hate relationship. anywayyyy, stay safe and be gentle with yourselves<3

It’s too early in the morning and your brain is a little fuzzy. You agreed a few days ago to join Mingyu in a game of golf and you were seriously regretting it. You should've double checked the time you’d be going. Though you don’t want to miss the chance to ogle him while he plays.

Your eyes follow Mingyu's tall figure as he walks back and forth between the bathroom and bedroom closet. He is rambling about something that happened at work the other day but all you could focus on was the rippling muscles of his back and arms. The golf shirt he throws on hugs his body so well you have no clue how you were going to survive this outing.

“.. And then.. hey, are you even listening?” Mingyu pouts after seeing how out of it you look.

You hum in acknowledgement but you were still staring at his arms. He rolls his eyes with a smirk, continuing to put his belt on as he walks over to you. You are laying on your side with your head resting on your palm. Your eyes shift up to follow his movements and eventually meet his gaze.

“You with me?” Mingyu squats down so you wouldn't strain your neck and rests a hand on your waist.

“Yeah sorry, it’s just way too early for you to be looking this attractive.” You mumble shyly, tracing a finger along the contours of his arm muscle.

“You’re gonna be a problem today aren't you?”

You then squeeze his bicep, “ no idea what you’re talking about.” the corner of your mouth lifts up a little.

“We have to leave soon so get up and get dressed honey.” He tells you then kisses the crown of your head.

Mingyu has never seen you fawn this hard so obviously over him. Usually it’s the other way around so he was definitely going to be savoring this for a long time. You shove yourself into your pillow, groaning about how you just want to sleep. He laughs, kissing the back of your head before getting up.

You follow him into the kitchen after you finish getting dressed and watch from the countertop as he makes snacks for in between holes. He would occasionally bring a few pieces of food up to your mouth for you to eat, which you accept with a smile. When he finished packing it all up you hop off the counter and then help him bring stuff out to the car. He takes to heavier things, like his clubs and a mini cooler filled with ice and water, while you carry the bag of food.

Mingyu pulls out of the driveway not long after and the drive to the golf course is peaceful, causing you to go back into that sleepy state. You look over at him, his wrist casually resting on the gearshift, veins branching their way up his forearm from his hand and the hat he put on at the last second leading the focus to his crazy sharp jawline. You barely think as you reach over and run your fingers along the outline of it.

“Thank you for coming with me.” Mingyu's voice is still deep from waking up, snapping you from your trance.

“Of course,” you squeeze his wrist, “ I love spending time with you and watching you play golf is a huge bonus.”

You go back to tracing his veins as his laugh fills the car. Just as you arrive at the course parking lot, the sun peeks over the mountains, casting various pinks and reds to fill the horizon. You lean on your knees to get a better look and take your phone out to take a picture.

“Okay I see why you do this so early. It’s so pretty.”

“Seeing you all pouty in the morning is way prettier.” Mingyu leans over the console and kisses your warm cheek.

You smile down at your phone to try and hide how much his words affect you but of course he couldn’t let you be shy in peace. He pinches your cheek lovingly while cooing affectionate words in that soft high pitched voice he knows gets you to crumble.

“Stop it.” You whine and push him away.

“What? Only you are allowed to openly obsess over your partner?”

“No.. but.. whatever, shut up.”

You turn your head away, face on fire and look back towards the sunrise. Mingyu kisses your cheek a few times then leaves to go into the main building to pay for a golf cart. He opens your door when he comes back and the both of you, after gathering all of your things, begin walking towards where they keep them.

Once again you are drooling over his arms. You watch the way his muscles ripple as he lifts his golf bag into the storage compartment attached to the back causing you to swallow hard. Next he lifts the cooler and bag of food into the back seats. The golden sunlight is hitting him perfectly, it takes everything in you not to pounce on him.

Mingyu clears his throat, your face flaming hot at getting caught, “don’t.” you warn.

He smiles wide and kisses you softly then pats your hip, signalling to get into the golf cart. The first few holes you just sit and watch with casual conversation in between. He is teeing up on the 4th hole when your stomach starts to grumble. You wait until he takes the shot before asking if he was ready for a snack or water. Mingyu nods and tells you which one to get out for him.

“Honey, why don’t you hit one?”

“And completely embarrass myself in front of my hot, insanely talented boyfriend? No thanks.”

You bite into your snack. Mingyu grabs your calves after sitting back down, laying them across his thighs and takes his snack and water from your waiting hand.

“Would it be more enticing if I said I would help you.” He questions and you tap your chin as if you were contemplating hard.

Mingyu continues, “I mean think about it. You wouldn’t really need to do anything,” his fingers begin tracing along your soft skin, " I'd be right behind you, guiding you to hit it right.”

Just the thought of his giant arms around you, even if it’s just for a game, had you nodding frantically before he could get another word out. The triumphant smile on his face makes your heart flutter and you lean over a little and kiss him.

“Only one hit though.” You tell him after pulling away.

You never had an interest to play before so having you finally say yes meant the world to Mingyu. He agrees with the same smile still on his face. You both finish your snacks and then continue down the fairway to where his ball landed.

Your eyes fall back to Mingyu's biceps then trail down to the way his hands grip the club as he goes to hit the ball again. If your phone could track the hours you stare at Mingyu like it does screen time, it would malfunction and overheat. Not a second goes by where you aren’t gazing at him in some way. He finished the hole with a birdie and you were making your way to the next one.

“Alright baby, you’re up.” Mingyu pats your thigh.

He sets up your golf ball and motions for you to come and stand right in front of him. A golf club is placed in your hands as he encases your body with his own. He guides your hands into the right position and leans your upper body forward a bit. You can’t help but swallow hard when Mingyu rests his head on your shoulder, pushing himself closer against your back.

“Spread your legs a little bit and bend your elbows like this,” his hands come up just under your elbows to move your arms, “make sure to bend your knees too.”

You try your best to follow along with his touch and words but it is all too distracting. Whether he was doing it on purpose or not, you needed to sit down. Your knees nearly give out when his lips graze from your neck up to your ear.

“Straighten your back.” He whispers.

Your face is on fire as you do it and you don’t even process it when Mingyu raises the club and hits the ball for you, hands pressing yours firmly to stay in position. He leaves a few lingering kisses on your cheek, praising you for a good hit even though you didn’t do a single thing. As you sit back in the passenger's seat, you do everything except look at Mingyu.

The smirk on his face is telling enough that he was enjoying this which only made your blush deepen. Luckily he doesn’t press you to do it again and you continue to watch him play. By the end of the hole you were so hot and bothered you couldn’t talk without choking on your words.

Mingyu happily places a hand on your thigh, kneading very sensually as he drives to the next hole. To his surprise you take his hand off and place it back on his lap. When he does it again and you repeat your previous action he can’t help the challenge right in front of him. Instead of trying a third time he rests his arm behind your shoulders on the seat. His fingers trace patterns along your shoulder and the back of your neck making goosebumps scatter across your skin. You lean forward but his hand comes to lightly grasp your shoulder.

“Come on honey. Are you scared you won’t be able to stop yourself if I keep touching you?” You almost scoff but he wasn’t wrong so you just turn your head away from him.

“Can you at least look at me?” He pouts.

You let out a big sigh and reluctantly meet his eyes. The smile on his face makes you want to smack it off, knowing he is going to use this situation against you whenever he sees fit. He had stopped the cart a while ago so it didn’t scare you when he took your face in both his hands and kissed you deeply.

“Can you be good until we get home?” Mingyu asks, his voice deep.

“I think I should be asking you that.” You quip back and he laughs against your lips.

Mingyu took his sweet time finishing his game and by the last hole you threatened to leave him here if he didn’t hurry up. You couldn’t even make it out of the parking lot.

// main masterlist , find more fics of seventeen here

#kpop imagines #kpop fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #mingyu imagines #kim mingyu imagines #mingyu fluff #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #kim mingyu fluff #kim mingyu x reader #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt x reader

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urdreamydoodles · 20 hours ago

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MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

You Protect The Marvel Comics Characters By Punching Someone Who Speaks Badly About Them

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

- Peter Parker has been insulted more times than he can count. He’s been called a menace, a failure, a joke. He’s used to it, laughs it off even when it cuts deep. But when he hears the sharp crack of your fist connecting with someone’s jaw—when he realizes that you did that for him—his world tilts on its axis.

- “Oh no. Oh no no no.” His first instinct is to grab you, to get you out of there before this turns into something worse. You just punched someone for him. He’s supposed to be the one protecting you, not the other way around. His heart is hammering—part fear, part something softer, warmer.

- He rushes to your side, hands hovering, unsure if he should scold you or kiss you right there in the street. The person you hit is groaning, cradling their face, and Peter is torn between feeling bad for them and wanting to tell them they deserved it. (Because they did. They did.)

- “Okay, that was… something,” he says, eyes darting between you and the stunned crowd. “Not that I don’t appreciate the backup, but—y’know, punching people usually gets me into trouble.” His voice is light, joking, but there’s something else in his gaze—awe, affection, something deeper than words.

- Later, when he’s patching up your knuckles with the gentlest hands, he murmurs, “No one’s ever fought for me like that.” And when he finally meets your gaze, soft and unguarded, you see it—the way he’s looking at you like you’re the most incredible thing in the universe.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

- Tony Stark has heard it all. The insults, the backhanded compliments, the jealous jabs from people who will never be him. Normally, he drowns it out with charm and a drink in hand. But then—then—your fist connects with someone’s face, and the world stops.

- For a moment, he just stares. Blinking. Processing. Did you really just punch someone for him? Then, slowly—a slow-spreading, wicked smirk. Because holy hell, that was the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

- “Well, well, well.” He steps forward, slipping an arm around your shoulders like you’re some kind of victorious gladiator. “You sure know how to make a guy feel special.” He’s eating this up, reveling in it, in the way you didn’t hesitate, in the way you stood up for him like it was the easiest thing in the world.

- The guy on the ground groans, and Tony glances down, unimpressed. “Next time, try using words, buddy. Or, y’know, just accept that I’m better than you.” Then he turns back to you, tilting his head. “Not that I’m complaining, but—what was that? You got a thing for defending handsome billionaires, or am I just lucky?”

- Later, when the adrenaline fades, he brushes a knuckle over your bruised hand, voice quieter. “No one ever does that for me.” And it’s not teasing anymore, not deflection—just something real. Something raw. And for once, Tony Stark is at a loss for words.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

- Steve Rogers has always fought his own battles. From the alleys of Brooklyn to the battlefields of war, he’s used to standing his ground—used to taking the hits for the people he loves. But this? This is something else entirely.

- One second, he’s turning the other cheek, trying to walk away from the insult. The next, there’s the sharp, unmistakable sound of impact—your fist driving straight into the jaw of the person who dared speak ill of him.

- “Hey—!” His hands are on you immediately, pulling you back before things escalate, before this turns into something worse. But his heart—his heart is a drumbeat against his ribs, because you fought for him. He should tell you it was reckless, that you didn’t have to, but all he can do is stare at you, his throat tight with something he can’t name.

- “That wasn’t necessary,” he says, but there’s no scolding in his voice, only something soft, something incredibly fond. Because no one ever fights for him. Not like that. Not without hesitation.

- Later, when you’re sitting together, nursing your sore hand, he finally murmurs, “Thank you.” And when he looks at you, there’s a warmth in his blue eyes that says more than words ever could—a depth of feeling that leaves you breathless.

Thor aka. God of Thunder

- Thor is used to insults. They roll off his back like rain on a battlefield, drowned out by the thunder in his veins. But when he hears the crack of your fist colliding with flesh— when he realizes you have struck someone in his name— he does not laugh. He is in awe.

- “By the gods!” His voice is both a boom of delight and a whisper of reverence. He steps toward you, eyes shining with something almost worshipful. You are fire, you are fury, you are glorious.

- And then he throws his head back and laughs, loud and full of joy. “A mighty warrior indeed! You honor me, my lady.” He clasps your hand, ignoring the bruises blooming on your knuckles, lifting it as though you have just won a great battle.

- The fool who insulted him scrambles away, but Thor does not spare them a glance. No, his attention is entirely on you. On this magnificent, fearless mortal who would strike in his name. And suddenly, the air around you feels different. Charged. Alive.

- Later, when the revelry has died down, he turns to you, voice softer. “You are… remarkable.” And when he looks at you, it is with the kind of devotion that only gods can give.

Loki aka. God of Mischief

- Loki is no stranger to cruelty. Words have been his weapons, his shields, his burdens. But when someone speaks ill of him— when they dare to drag his name through the dirt—he expects only one thing: to be alone in the aftermath.

- And then you hit them. Hard.

- He blinks. Once. Twice. Shock flickers across his face, unreadable and raw. He watches as you stand, fists clenched, gaze burning with something primal, something protective. And for the first time in centuries, Loki does not know what to say.

- “You—” His voice is different. Lower. There is no mockery, no amusement, only a sharp, jagged edge of something he does not let himself feel. You have fought for him. Him. And the realization shakes him.

- Later, when you’re alone, he traces the bruises on your knuckles with something dangerously close to reverence. “You are a fool,” he whispers, but his fingers linger, his breath unsteady. “A reckless, maddening fool.” And then, softer—so quiet you almost don’t hear it—“And I think I am doomed to love you for it.”

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

- Clint Barton is used to being underestimated. People see the bow, the lack of powers, and assume he’s less. They talk about him like he’s a joke, like he doesn’t belong among gods and super-soldiers. He lets it roll off his back—until you don’t.

- The sound of your fist cracking against a jaw cuts through the noise of the bar, and suddenly, the air is electric. You did that for him. Not because he asked, not because you had to—but because someone insulted him, and that was unacceptable to you.

- “Whoa—hey, hey, hold up!” Clint is beside you in an instant, half-laughing, half-terrified. His hands hover near yours, concern flickering in his sharp blue eyes. You’re pissed. It’s kind of the best thing he’s ever seen.

- The guy on the floor is groaning, but Clint isn’t paying attention to them anymore. No, his focus is on you—on your clenched fists, the fire still burning in your gaze. You’re beautiful like this, fierce and unwavering, and he’s absolutely, irreversibly doomed.

- Later, when he’s wrapping your bruised knuckles in an old bandana, he grins, soft and lopsided. “You know, I usually do the whole reckless, getting-into-fights thing. But I gotta say—kinda nice having someone in my corner for once.” And the way he looks at you then? Like you hung the goddamn stars.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

- Natasha Romanoff has been called a monster, a traitor, a woman who can never be trusted. She’s lived a life of whispers behind her back, of sideways glances and careful distance. She’s learned to endure it. But she never expected you to lash out in her defense.

- The impact of your punch is sharp, decisive— a clean, perfect strike that she would have been proud of. And yet, it startles her. Not because you hit them, but because you lost control for her.

- “You didn’t have to do that.” Her voice is smooth, but there’s something unreadable in her expression—something unfamiliar. She’s used to people fighting beside her, but no one has ever fought for her. Not like this.

- She grips your wrist before you can throw another punch, thumb grazing the pulse point there. “Look at me,” she murmurs. And when you do, she sees it—the fire in you, the defiance, the unwavering loyalty. And it does something to her, something she can’t quite name.

- Later, in the quiet of a dimly lit room, she traces the bruise on your knuckles with the barest touch. “You’re dangerous,” she murmurs, lips curving slightly. And for the first time in a long time, she thinks—maybe she wants to be protected, too.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

- Bucky Barnes knows what people say about him. A killer. A weapon. A man who should have died decades ago. He doesn’t argue. He knows what he’s done. He doesn’t expect anyone to defend him.

- But then—you do. And not with words. With fists.

- The moment your knuckles connect with skin, he’s there. He’s fast, instinctive, grabbing you by the wrist before you can swing again. His heart is pounding. Not out of fear—but something deeper, something he can’t afford to name.

- “Why did you do that?” His voice is rough, almost accusing. But you don’t waver. You stand your ground, breathing heavy, eyes blazing with defiance. It hits him then—no one has ever done this for him. Not Steve, not anyone.

- Later, he sits beside you in the quiet, his metal fingers ghosting over your bruised knuckles. “You don’t have to fight for me,” he murmurs, voice almost broken. And when you reply—“Then who will?”—he feels something shift in his chest, something old and aching and terrifyingly new.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

- Matt Murdock hears the insult before it’s even fully formed—the venom in the voice, the disdain dripping from every syllable. He’s heard it before, about his blindness, about his law career, about the devil that lurks beneath the surface. He expects to ignore it.

- What he doesn’t expect is the sharp, sudden sound of your fist connecting with someone’s jaw.

- His head tilts slightly, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. He felt you coil before the strike, heard your heartbeat spike. You didn’t hesitate. And God help him, that does something to him.

- “That wasn’t very lawyerly of you.” He steps close, voice low and teasing, but there’s something else there too—something reverent. His fingers brush against yours, light as a whisper, like he’s memorizing the shape of your defiance.

- Later, in the sanctity of his apartment, he takes your injured hand in his own, running careful fingertips over bruised skin. “I don’t need saving,” he murmurs, though the way his breath hitches when you squeeze his hand says otherwise. And when you reply—“Too bad. You’ve got me anyway.”—his world tilts, just a little.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

- Frank Castle is a ghost, a monster, a cautionary tale. He’s used to people spitting his name like it’s a curse. He doesn’t care. He’s beyond caring.

- But then you punch someone in the face for speaking ill of him—and everything stops.

- The guy drops like a stone, groaning, and Frank… laughs. It’s not a soft sound. It’s dark, rough, something almost dangerous. He steps forward, crowding into your space, looking down at you like you’re something holy and terrible and his.

- “You got a mean right hook, sweetheart.” His voice is low, amused, but there’s something else there—something molten, something raw. He doesn’t say it, but he’s never had someone do this for him. Never had someone choose him so recklessly, so violently.

- Later, when you’re both alone, he leans against the counter, arms crossed, eyes dark. “You don’t fight my battles.” His voice is a growl, but there’s no real anger behind it. And when you meet his gaze, unyielding, he exhales sharply. Because if anyone in this world deserved someone like you fighting for them—he knows it sure as hell ain’t him. But he wants it anyway.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

- Marc Spector is used to being called insane. A broken mind, a fractured man, a violent, unhinged vigilante. The whispers follow him everywhere, behind his back and to his face. He doesn’t defend himself—because what would be the point?

- But then, you do. And not just with words. With your fists. The impact is sharp, the sound of bone on bone cutting through the murmur of the street like a gunshot. The moment is frozen. And Marc? He stares.

- He should pull you away, should tell you not to waste your breath, should laugh it off like it doesn’t matter. But he can’t. Because no one has ever done this for him. Not for Marc Spector. Not for the man beneath the mask.

- “You really shouldn’t have done that.” His voice is low, but there’s something almost reverent in the way he says it. His gloved fingers graze your bruised knuckles, and the moonlight catches in his dark eyes—like he’s seeing something holy.

- Later, he watches you from across the room, arms crossed, jaw tight. You stood up for him. You fought for him. And now, all he can think about is how much he wants to fight for you.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

- Johnny Storm is used to the attention. The praise, the criticism, the headlines that reduce him to nothing more than a pretty face and a flame. He shrugs it off. Pretends it doesn’t sting.

- But then, he hears your voice—furious, unwavering, like a flame catching oxygen. And before he can turn, you swing. The guy stumbles back, clutching their jaw, and the entire room erupts.

- “Oh. My. God.” Johnny is somehow both horrified and absolutely delighted. He stares at you like you just set the whole world on fire. Because you did. And you did it for him.

- “I didn’t know you had that in you,” he grins, stepping closer. There’s something in his voice—something deep, awed, almost breathless. Because no one has ever burned quite like you.

- Later, when the adrenaline wears off, he’s grinning like an idiot, watching you ice your knuckles. And when you catch him staring, he just shrugs. “What? It’s kinda hot when you punch people for me.”

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

- Reed Richards has heard every insult in the book. Detached. Cold. Unfeeling. They don’t understand how his mind works, how his thoughts stretch beyond the present moment, beyond normal comprehension. He’s used to it.

- But you? You aren’t. The second someone spits out something vile, dismissive, cruel, your fist is already flying before Reed can even process what’s happening.

- “Oh.” That’s all he says at first, blinking as if recalibrating. He hadn’t expected—this. You. Your anger, your unwavering defense, the fire in your eyes. It’s an equation he hadn’t considered. And now, he can’t stop solving for it.

- “Violence isn’t necessary,” he murmurs, but he’s already taking your hand, stretching his fingers around your bruised knuckles, memorizing the shape of your loyalty.

- Later, he watches you—studying, calculating, analyzing. But for once, the question isn’t why. It’s how he ever lived without you.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

- Felicia Hardy doesn’t need protecting. She’s spent her life clawing her way out of trouble, slipping through shadows, dodging every snare. She laughs in the face of danger, purrs at the edge of chaos.

- But then—you hit someone. For her. And everything stops.

- She should be amused. Should smirk and tease and call you reckless. But instead—she just stares. Because no one, not once in her life, has ever thrown a punch for her. Not like this.

- “Darling, you really are full of surprises.” She steps close, a slow, predatory movement, her fingers tilting your chin up. There’s something wicked in her smirk—but her eyes? Her eyes are soft.

- Later, she finds herself watching you more than she should. Running a gloved hand over your bruised knuckles, feeling something dangerously close to devotion. And for the first time, Felicia Hardy wonders what it would be like to be caught.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

- Stephen Strange is used to arrogance. His own, and the world’s. He’s used to people whispering behind his back, questioning, doubting, scoffing. He doesn’t care. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

- But when someone speaks ill of him in front of you? You react before he does. The crack of your fist against their jaw is startlingly satisfying. And suddenly, the entire universe shifts.

- “You—” He stops himself. Adjusts his cloak. Exhales sharply. He should be chastising you, telling you to hold your temper, to rise above it. But instead, he’s looking at you like you just rewrote the laws of reality.

- “You didn’t have to do that.” His voice is careful, but his fingers are gentle when they brush against your bruised knuckles. He’s spent a lifetime mastering control—so why does it slip when you’re around?

- Later, he finds himself summoning bandages with magic, hands lingering longer than necessary. And when you smirk, teasing—“Was that a thank you, Doctor?”—he only hums, a small, knowing smile playing at his lips. Because maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind needing you.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

- Namor is used to disrespect. The surface world dares to look down on him, on Atlantis, on the very ocean that sustains their miserable existence. He tolerates it only because he must. But when someone speaks ill of him in your presence, they are met with something he does not expect—your fist.

- The blow lands sharply, flesh against bone, a declaration of war in its own right. Namor watches, silver eyes narrowing, his body rigid with something unnameable. It is not anger. No, anger is familiar. This? This is something else.

- “You strike for me?” His voice is velvet over steel, laced with the kind of dangerous curiosity that comes before a storm. His people have fought wars in his name. But this? This is different. This is you.

- He moves toward you, slow, deliberate, fingers tilting your chin up. There is no hesitation when he speaks next. “You are worthy of a crown.” And the way he says it—it is not a compliment. It is a fact.

- Later, the sea sings your name. And though he will not say it outright, he watches you differently now—like a king who has found the one thing worth more than his throne.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

- Johnny Blaze has been called many things. Freak. Monster. Hellspawn. He doesn’t care—not anymore. He’s spent too long carrying his curse, dragging his soul behind him like a dying star.

- But then you hit someone. For him. Your knuckles split skin, the sound echoing in the dim light of the bar, and for the first time in a long time, Johnny forgets how to breathe.

- “Shit.” The word is barely a breath. You turn to him, fist still clenched, shoulders tight with fury, and Johnny? Johnny just stares. Because no one, not in his entire damn life, has ever thrown a punch in his name.

- “You really shouldn’t have done that,” he mutters, but there’s something dangerous behind his voice—something that flickers like an ember waiting to catch. He should stop this, should tell you he’s not worth it. But instead, his fingers brush over your bruised knuckles like a prayer.

- Later, he watches you from his bike, the engine growling beneath him, his heart doing the same. And when he finally speaks, voice rough, almost shy, it’s only to say: “Next time, lemme do the hitting.”

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

- Eddie Brock has heard it all before. Loser. Washed-up. Parasite. He grits his teeth and lets it slide, because what else is new? Venom, on the other hand, is far less patient.

- But before either of them can react—you do. Your fist cracks against the jaw of the one who dared to insult him, and suddenly, everything goes still.

- “Did you just—?” Eddie’s eyes go wide. Venom, however, purrs with delight.

- “They are ours,” the symbiote rumbles, voice sliding through Eddie’s skull like liquid night. “They fight for us.” Eddie wants to argue, to tell Venom to shut up, but he can’t, because he’s too busy watching you, heart pounding, something terrifying and warm curling in his chest.

- Later, he doesn’t bring it up—but Venom does. “We like them,” the voice whispers, thick with amusement. Eddie doesn’t respond. He just glances at you, hands tightening into fists, and thinks: Yeah. We do.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

- T’Challa has faced enemies greater than words. He has fought battles with his hands, his mind, his heart. He does not concern himself with petty insults.

- But you do. The second you hear someone speak his name with disrespect, your body moves before your mind does. The punch lands with precision, trained and true—a warrior’s strike.

- He should chastise you. Should remind you that his reputation needs no defense. But when he looks at you—fire in your eyes, your breath sharp, your hands still clenched—he feels something stir beneath his ribs.

- “Impressive,” he murmurs, stepping closer. He does not touch you, not yet, but the space between you hums with electricity. He sees you differently now—not just as an ally. As something more.

- Later, as he watches you spar in the Wakandan training grounds, his mind drifts back to that moment. You fought for him. And T’Challa? T’Challa is not used to losing battles—but he is certain he is about to lose this one.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

- Elektra is used to being hated. She does not care. She exists between life and death, between shadow and steel. She does not need protection.

- But then, you hit someone. For her. And Elektra? She does not know what to do with that.

- She watches as the body crumples to the floor, watches as you shake out your fist, anger still radiating from every inch of you. Something slow and dark unfurls in her chest.

- “Foolish,” she murmurs, stepping forward. But her voice is soft. Her fingers graze your wrist, her eyes searching yours for something she refuses to name. “But… admirable.”

- Later, she finds herself lingering near you more than usual, watching, waiting. You fought for her. And Elektra Natchios has spent her entire life surviving—but now, she wonders what it would be like to be worth saving.

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pots-sibly · 10 hours ago

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When I flared so bad in November that I physically couldn't be out of bed for more than like. Two or three minutes at a time. I did a loooooot of doomscrolling, to the point where I felt like I was mentally back in the place I was as a teenager when I had no friends and spent every waking minute on like instagram or something. I caught myself falling into habits I haven't had in years, like compulsively arguing with people online or engaging in content that made me mad or upset. If I was in the same place I was when I was younger, I would've just kept falling into that pit, but I know what it's like now to not feel that way, and I didn't want to go back.

So, I did the most logical thing to me: I went on Amazon and ordered a bunch of yarn and crochet supplies.

I haven't crocheted since I was in the single digits. My grandma tried to teach me, but I was never able to get past the chain stitch. Even so, I remembered absolutely loving it; I'd make chains out of whole balls of yarn and just like, have them in a drawer. I'd do it over and over again because I liked the colours and the repetitive motions. It was soothing to me.

I got a beginner's crochet book and started teaching myself other stitches. I was having really bad brain fog at the time, so I learned slow (and wrong), but I still learned. I made scarves for everyone in my family for Christmas that were way too long and just the same stitch over and over again. I took my yarn and hooks to the emergency room, to get blood work, to urgent care. I made a blanket that covers a double mattress and am hoarding yarn under my bed.

I'm just learning how to make other things, like stuffed animals and granny squares, but honestly I would probably be just as happy to make more mile-long chains. It's extremely calming (so much so that I fainted in the middle of doing a scarf in the ER once) and when I'm doing simple patterns, it's something I can do even with the fatigue and the brain fog. I no longer feel the need to engage with shitty people online or spend hours scrolling and rotting. I've successfully pulled myself out of doomscroll spirals with 'oh shit I need to finish that scarf/blanket/amigumuri'

I used to see posts like this going around and always felt a little defensive because I never really had anything like that. I was always so tired and sick and thought it was a personal failing, so someone being like 'hey maybe you should do something other than scroll instagram reels until you want to die' felt like a personal attack (yes, I was in a bad place). But it's literally so important to have Something like this and I'm so glad that I'm in a place now where I actually do

Most anti phone advice is so inane and regurgitated to me but one thing I’ve been thinking about for days is “social media is okay, but the real danger comes in when you think your phone should be your go to during your limited pockets of leisure” like that’s literally the truest thing ever

#sorry for the rambles i'm sleepy tired #chronic illness #invisible illness #invisible disability #pots #mecfs #mcas #crochet

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yara0546 · 3 days ago

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Nct dream reaction when leave voicemails for you while they’re away

Anonymous asked : hi can i request what types of voicemail, 7dream would send to you while they're away?

୨୧ Pairing : nct dream x reader

୨୧ Genre : Fluff,Romance,Humor,Slight Angst

୨୧ Word Count : 600–700 words.

୨୧ Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction from our imagination. It is not intended that the plot, theme, original characters, idols, etc. portray any real-life events/people. Plagiarism is NOT tolerated on this blog. If you believe we have copied an existing authors’ work, please message us privately. thank you and enjoy :)

Masterlist

Mark

"Hey, it's me... Mark. Uh, I know you’re probably busy, but I just wanted to call and check in. I miss you. Like... a lot. Tour is great and all, but it’s not the same without you, you know? Anyway, I hope you're eating well, sleeping enough... and not staying up too late watching those dramas without me. Save the good ones for when I get back, okay? Call me when you get this. Or text me. Or just... yeah, you get it. Bye."

Renjun

"Jagiya, why aren’t you picking up? Are you ignoring me? I know you saw my message. Sigh. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you. It’s been a long day, and I could really use some of your energy right now. Also, please tell me you’re not skipping meals. You always do that when I’m not around. If you don’t take care of yourself, I’ll be really mad. …Okay, maybe not mad mad, but still. Call me back, alright? I love you."

Jeno

"Hey... just checking in. I know it’s late over there, so you’re probably asleep. I just wanted to say I miss you. Today was kinda hectic, but thinking about you made everything feel easier. Ah, that sounds cheesy, doesn’t it? Don’t tease me about it later. Just... take care, alright? I’ll call again soon. Sleep well."

Haechan

"Yah, why aren’t you answering? You know you should always pick up when I call. I’m the highlight of your day, aren’t I? Laughs. But seriously, I miss you. A lot. Don’t go falling for any other handsome guys while I’m gone, alright? I know I’m irreplaceable, but still. Anyway, I’ll bring you something cool when I get back. But only if you answer my next call! Love you, dummy. Byeee."

Jaemin

"Baby, are you asleep? I bet you are. You always doze off early when I’m not there to keep you entertained. Chuckles. I just wanted to hear your voice, even if it’s just your voicemail. I miss you so much. You have no idea. Everything reminds me of you here, and it just makes me wish I could teleport back to you. But soon, okay? I’ll be home soon. Until then, keep dreaming of me. I love you."

Chenle

"Ayo, my favorite person! I’m calling because I know you miss me. Don’t even deny it. I bet you’ve been pouting all day because I’m not there to annoy you. Laughs. But really, I miss you too. It’s kinda boring without you around to tease. Make sure you’re staying safe and not doing anything reckless without me. I need you in one piece when I get back. Okay? Okay. Now call me back before I leave another voicemail."

Jisung

"Um... hey. It’s me. I, uh, don’t really know what to say, but I just wanted to hear your voice. Even if it’s just your voicemail. Nervous chuckle. Today was kind of tiring, but I kept thinking about you, and it made things better. I hope you’re doing okay. And... yeah. I miss you. A lot. Call me when you can? No pressure though! Uh... okay. Bye."

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sturniololuvz · 3 days ago

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hiii can you make a story where matt’s daughter who is 2-3 is really clingy to matt and is shy around anyone else, sometimes even nick and chris so matt tries to get her to like nick and chris

okayyy

“Clingy Little Shadow”

Sturniolos x Matt’s daughter

Matt loved being a dad more than anything, but sometimes, his two-year-old daughter, Y/N, made it very clear that she only needed him. It wasn’t that she didn’t like other people—she just didn’t trust anyone the way she trusted Matt. And that included her uncles, Nick and Chris.

Whenever they came over, Y/N would immediately cling to Matt’s leg, hiding her face against him like they were strangers instead of her actual uncles. If they tried to talk to her, she’d just shake her head, sometimes even whimpering like they were scary. It wasn’t that she was afraid of them, but she wasn’t about to let anyone but Matt hold her, carry her, or even sit next to her for too long.

And as cute as it was that she loved him so much, Matt really wanted her to open up to Nick and Chris.

“Dude, she hates us,” Chris joked one night when they were all at Matt’s place. Y/N sat in Matt’s lap, tiny fingers curled into his hoodie, her head resting against his chest.

Nick, sitting across from them, nodded. “Yeah, like what did we do to her?”

Matt sighed, rubbing Y/N’s back. “She doesn’t hate you guys. She’s just attached to me.”

Chris scoffed. “Yeah, no kidding.” He leaned forward, offering his arms. “C’mon, munchkin. Let Uncle Chris hold you.”

Y/N immediately turned her face away, burying herself deeper into Matt’s hoodie.

“Guess that’s a no,” Nick laughed.

Matt chuckled, but deep down, he really wanted to change this. He knew Nick and Chris would be the best uncles to her, and it killed him that she wouldn’t even give them a chance. So, he came up with a plan.

The Plan

The next morning, Matt invited Nick and Chris over again, determined to get Y/N to like them.

“Alright,” he told them before Y/N woke up, “just… be chill. Let her come to you guys.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Bro, she doesn’t even want to look at us. How’s she gonna come to us?”

“She will,” Matt insisted. “I just have to be unavailable for a little bit.”

Nick smirked. “So you’re gonna ditch your kid and force her to like us?”

Matt groaned. “Not ditch, just… take a step back.”

And that’s exactly what he did. When Y/N woke up, she toddled into the living room in her pajamas, rubbing her eyes.

“Dada…” she mumbled, arms outstretched.

Matt knelt down and kissed her forehead. “Hi, baby. Uncle Nick and Uncle Chris are here.”

She immediately stiffened, looking over at them like she’d just noticed they existed. Nick waved with a small smile, while Chris gave her an over-the-top excited face.

Y/N frowned, her grip tightening on Matt’s hoodie. “Up,” she demanded.

Matt sighed. “Actually, baby, Dada’s gotta do something real quick. Can you sit with Uncle Nick?”

Y/N looked offended.

Nick held his hands up. “No pressure. But I do have cookies.”

Y/N hesitated. Cookies were very tempting.

Matt, seeing his chance, gently peeled her off of him and placed her onto the couch next to Nick before stepping back. Y/N immediately turned to follow him, but Nick quickly pulled out the cookies.

“Hey, munchkin, wanna try one?” he asked, breaking a piece off and offering it to her.

Y/N eyed the cookie. She clearly didn’t want to accept it from him, but… a cookie was a cookie.

After a long pause, she reached out with her tiny hand, snatching the cookie before shoving it into her mouth.

Chris gasped dramatically. “OH MY GOD, SHE TOOK SOMETHING FROM YOU.”

Matt grinned. “Progress.”

Nick chuckled. “You know, kid, I got a whole bag of these.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered to the bag in his hand, but she still wasn’t sure if she trusted him enough yet.

Matt, deciding to push things a little further, sat on the other side of the room instead of right next to her. Y/N noticed immediately. Her eyes darted to him, then back to Nick, as if debating her next move.

Nick, sensing her uncertainty, stayed still, letting her make the decision.

And then, after what felt like forever, Y/N slowly—slowly—leaned her little body against Nick’s arm.

Nick’s eyes widened. “Oh my god.”

Chris gaped. “Dude, she’s touching you.”

Matt grinned proudly. “Told you she’d come around.”

Y/N yawned, grabbing another piece of cookie before munching on it, still leaning against Nick. It wasn’t much, but to Matt, it was everything.

Because for the first time, his little shadow wasn’t just clinging to him—she was letting someone else in. And that was more than enough.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolos #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #dad x daughter

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abedmajeed · 2 days ago

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Who I Am & Why I’m Here 💙

Hey everyone, my name is Abdelmajed. I don’t usually talk much about myself, but today, I want to share a little piece of my story.

I was born and raised in Gaza, a place that has always been my home 🏡. I grew up surrounded by my family, my friends, and the streets that I knew like the back of my hand. Life wasn’t always easy, but we had love, laughter, and dreams. I used to think that no matter what happened, home would always be here. But life has a way of changing things in ways we never expect.

Over the past months, everything I once knew has disappeared. The streets that were once filled with children playing are now silent. The houses that held so many memories are now just rubble. And the people I loved—some of them are gone forever. 💔

But I don’t want this to just be a story of loss. I want it to be a story of hope. No matter how much has changed, I refuse to stop believing in better days. I refuse to stop dreaming of a future where I can rebuild, where I can find peace, where I can wake up in the morning without fear.

That’s why I’m here. To share my journey. To connect with people who believe in kindness and humanity. To remind myself—and anyone reading this—that even in the darkest times, there is still light. ✨

If you’ve read this far, thank you. I’d love to get to know you too. Tell me something about yourself in the comments. Let’s build something positive together. 💬💙

And I'm now waiting to be Vetted by @gazavetters 🙏

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lologoinsolo · 12 hours ago

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Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 5, Part 6

You can’t seem to think without debating over what you said to Kyle. Needless to say, you feel like you got in your head over it. Maybe he meant it and it wasn’t a pity ask or maybe it was. You don’t know. Kyle doesn’t seem like the type to do that to a lady. He’s sweet, and genuinely funny and handsome and kind an—

“Dude,” Jess comes from the grooming salon as you bang your head against the reception table. You were cold calling but your mind had other ideas. “You look like shit.” Normally you’re more focused on your work but it’s just Kyle, Kyle, Kyle— Remember what you said to Kyle?

Sighing defeatedly, “gee, thanks.” Hitting your head again and again on the firm table. Your forehead throbs when you finally give it rest. “I feel like shit.” You’ve been a zombie at work, you don’t speak much about your home life. You try to keep that separate from the job because you don’t want to drag it in here. It’s not your fault that a stupidly handsome man with an equally stupidly charming smile looked at you the way he did. So why do you feel so hung up about it?

“So…” She asks after a moment of far too much silence. “How’s the calling going?”

“Oh, it’s going.” Groaning softly, “not many people are answering. Some said they wanted to come in but not for today.” Some even started bitching about their previous grooms but you muted them until they finished and still asked if they wanted to come in for an appointment. Funnily enough, they said no.

“Surprised it’s slow for a Saturday.” One of the pains of a grooming salon is that it’ll be filled with clients or it’ll be deader than a western movie scene of a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. “You wanna leave early today?” Nudging you a little as she asks maybe to brighten you up. You’ve been a little cloud of gloom and the other groomers are getting worried.

You think it over, maybe you can ask Connor to let you take a shift on the floor? They still haven’t hired anyone but it would be nice to get home earlier than you usually do. Kyle hasn’t come back… maybe you did fuck yourself over. Wouldn’t be the first time you shot yourself in the foot. His warm brown eyes flashes through your mind's eye and you stand up quickly. Jess quirks a brow and you give a weak nod, “yeah… yeah, I’ll clock out.”

“Alright, clean up and get going.”

She leaves you to your thoughts, cleaning up some kennels and hurriedly clocking out before one of the groomers can even ask you to bathe one of their dogs. Heading straight for the breakroom and shoving your hoodie back on. Rubbing over your face again when you see your reflection. You do look tired. Why does this bother me so much? Walking out and stuffing your wallet and keys into your hoodies pocket. “Oh wait,” you bite your lip slightly, a man’s voice can be heard milling over the different litters the store sell. The Scottish notes to his voice barely heard when you think about those cats around your apartment that you’ve been feeding. “I could to buy another bag.” Blame your grandma for your love of cats, that woman is THE old cat lady and you love that for her.

You waltz down the familiar aisle, looking from the 25 pound bag to the 50 pound bag… It might be best to get the smaller one since you ride the bus but the big one would feed the cats longer. “hmm, alright,” you go for the heavier one after weighing your options. Heaving it onto your shoulders, you wobble a bit when you bend back too far. Shit… Shit! Your world starts to flip and you’re bracing for a hard fall.

“Woah!” A hand settles heavy on your back and steadies you. “Ye need help, lass?” Sparkling blue eyes look down at you. He doesn’t even wait for an answer as he pulls it over his shoulder with ease.

“You— hey!” He doesn’t let you take it from him even when you try to reach for it. In fact, he steps back towards his cart that pokes out from behind him. “I can handle it.” You’re just tired and sluggish, you can lug those things in your sleep.

“Nearly took a tumble,” he winks and you get a better look at him as your lips purse. He’s handsome in a charming, farmer boy way. His hair’s cut into a mohawk and you’d make fun of it if it didn’t actually fit his appearance. There’s a jagged pink scar that’s hard not to notice on his face, your stomach churns at what he must’ve gone through to survive that. The other thing that worries you is that he’s wearing no jacket or hoodie and his face, arms, and hands look like he’s been run through a human sized blender.

“I’m— are you okay?” You point to his arms first and he looks down. He grins something wild and you take the tiniest step back.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “this one just needed some convincing.” You tilt to the side and nearly squeal when he pulls his cart to his side. A bundled up cat in a thick, dark blue jacket is nestled over some litter bags. Orange fur poking out to the fluffiest extent and what’s something of a coincidence… The cat looks like they got an orange looking mohawk of their own. “Bugger didnae want to be caught.”

You blink once and then twice, “oh… oh?!” He laughs a little when it starts to make sense on those cuts of his. The cat doesn’t look like they’d do that from where you’re standing though. They’re sitting quietly in the jacket save for the tiniest flicker of its orange fluffy tail. Slowly blinking their eyes as if the noises from your conversation has woken them up. “They did that?” Gesturing to him once more, “really?”

He nods, doesn’t seem strained at all with how he still holds your bag of cat food. “He’s been around my house for the longest. Took a lot of convincing to grab him.” And you can see the effects of that convincing. Poor, little guy he must’ve tried so hard escape the Scot’s arms from how beat up the man looks. Wait… Scot?

“Johnny?” You blurt and his shoulders tense. His smile drops, the blue of his eyes switches to something sharp. “I— sorry, are you Johnny?” Stammering a little as he eyes you up and down.

His eyes squint and he stands a little more in front of his cart, blocking your view of his cat. “Aye, that’s me,” his accent thicker and just a bit on edge. “Have we met?” No… no you have not and he knows that.

“No, I— uh, Kyle? Are you friends with Kyle and John?” Stammering out your words.

It starts to click in his head and whatever tense moment that was there is gone immediately. “Bonnie?!” You flinch at his boom, “I ken who ye are,” puzzles all connecting finally in his head now, “boys been yappin’ about ye, was wonderin’ when I’d met this cashier of theirs.” Boys? Plural? Theirs? “Can ye help me, lass? I’ve an idea on how to take care of my boy but m’not against asking for help. Been told ye ken what yer doin’.”

The complete 180 is a whiplash, he acted like you were gonna hurt him. Like you could, all the men you’ve been meeting recently look like they can easily hold themselves alone in a fight. “Yeah,” shuffling around, the boys he mentioned are probably the three you’ve met already. Small world… “I can help you out. I don’t mind.” You smile and he returns it happily, granted you are off the clock but… you have a feeling he’ll need some pointers. Damn your heart of hearts. “I can hold tha—“

“Nonsense,” waving his hand with a shrug of his shoulder when try once more to grab the bag. “I’d never let a bonnie thing like ye lift anything heavy. S��what these are for, yeah?” He flexes his arms and you try to not ogle at the muscles. “Mind pushing the cart though?” You nod and step closer to push. His cat seems to not even care at all about the movement. Just sits and stares, calm as can be despite the terror he must’ve caused Johnny.

“He’s a pretty fluffy cat, I’d recommend a good comb.” Cats can get matted and knotted despite being self-groomers, you’ve seen some get groomed at the salon. Usually longhair cats like this one. His paws are big, ears pointed more, “I think your boys a maine coon cat.” The lion’s mane also helps in your thought process. “At least he could be?”

“I think so too,” Johnny looks positively happy in his capture. He worked hard to catch and chase. “He’s been eating what I’ve been leaving out, I checked for a collar but found none.” Though… you doubt he’d care about that from the way he’s speaking. “Guess he’s all mine, Kyle owes me money.” You perk up at the mention of Kyle.

“Poor lad, seemed sad the other day.”

You deflate a little, looking away and you miss the knowing look that Johnny gives you. “Yeah…” you mutter and leave the cart to pull items for his cat. If you had his number then maybe you could talk to him. Or maybe you wouldn’t… “here,” you come back with a cat bed and some toys. You’ve yet to figure out what to say to Kyle when— if. If he comes back. You hope he comes back.

“Careful, hen,” Johnny says worriedly as you put your hand in the cart. Johnny makes a move to grab your arm but it’s too late, your hands already placing the toys down in the cart. There’s a brief pause before his cat tilts his head and moves to sniff as best as he can despite being burrito’d in the jacket. “Oh?” His eyes widened slightly, “I see how it is, hmm? Ye scratch me up but allow the pretty lass to be near ye.” Turning rather green with jealousy as you laugh at his envious expression. To add insult to injury you pet his boy some more and he purrs. Loudly.

“Well…” you pet away at the purring cat, rubbing from his nose to the top of his head. His ears flickering when you thumb over his head to then scratch at his chin. “You did chase him.” Cooing down at the baby, not an ounce of spiciness in those big eyes of his. “Poor boy, you were just scared? Weren’t you?” Baby talking the cat as if he can understand you. “Big scary man came grabbing at you, poor baby.” You’d probably freak out too if Johnny came after you… the man looks like he can definitely toss you around.

“It was for his own good,” Johnny rolls his eyes with indifference. “I couldnae leave ‘im out in the cold.” You flick through the cat’s tufts of hair on the top of his head. Standing them up so it looks more like a mohawk to match his dad’s hairstyle. “He’s too smart, tried to box’im but he ken what I was doin’.” There’s a growing of a smile on his face as he watches you. Can’t be bothered to stay displeased, not with how sweetly you are eing towards his cat. He’s starting to understand the appeal.

You feel eyes on you and you lock eyes with him once you look up. He doesn’t turn from you even as you pull back. The cat doesn’t seem happy about the loss of pets when he tries yet fails to get out of the jacket. “I,” clearing away at your throat and that makes him blink finally. “Well… how did you get him?” A bit curious but it falters when Johnny grins wolfishly. “Oh no, what did you do?”

“Built him a cat house with one of those nice heaters. Only,” he leans closer like he’s telling you a secret, “I made it to where it would shut once he stepped in.” Rolling his shoulder slightly once he stands straight so the bag sits better. “Hardest part was getting him settled cause once I managed to get’em out of it. He ran all around the house knocking things over.” He chuckles, “had to wrap my jacket ‘round him. Clawed me up good.” — ouch! Aw ye stupid wee man! M’tryna help ye, stop bitin’! No, John, m’fine. Finally got my boy.— “He seems calm,” those blue eyes of his squint, “for now.”

Snorting a laugh, “yeah, he does. Just shaken up.” Pivoting on your heel, “come on, need to get you some more things for him. Hope you don’t mind?” He’s already got the litter and the litter box, even has the cat food.

“Not one bit, lass, not one bit.”

You take him around the store to grab what’s needed. His cat is snoozing the entire time, only waking up when a bump gets hit or you laugh a little too hard from Johnny’s jokes. Turns out, the Scot really is bad at naming things. “Firewatch is not a name, Johnny.”

“Ye sound like John.” He muses, cocking a brow at you.

“It’s the truth.” Saying it like a judge’s final answer on a case.

“An Cheddars any be’ter?” Tilting his head down, he’s long since put your bag of cat food in his cart. He would’ve held it longer had you not pestered him so. He liked how flustered you became when he asked if you’re always so worried or if it’s just for him. “Startin’ to think ye donnae ken how to give names.”

“Hey,” looking highly upset that he’d doubt your superior naming abilities. “I can name a cat, you just don’t like any of the names I’ve mentioned.” You’ve both listed off names. Cheddar, Bomb, Apollo, Firestick, Jackie, Blaze, Riley— now that on one, he seemed vehemently against. You don’t know why and he refused to give his reasonings behind it. “What about… Oliver?” He goes to say something but pauses once he chews on it.

“Hmmm,” he looks from your and then downwards, “Oliver, huh? Better than Riley that’s for sure.” Somewhere a big man in a mask that sneezes, “alright,” Johnny concedes, “I like it.”

“Could call him Ol’ Riley for short?” Wiggling your brows.

“Oh, now ye are pushing yer luck, lass.” Pushing the cart to the front to get to paying for everything you told him he’d need. He doesn’t mind the price, pays for it without doubting your knowledge. Even pays for the cat food that you planned on buying much to your surprise. He simply smiled when you tried to offer him your discounts, “s’fine, hen. Least I could do since yer not workin’.” Your cheeks warm a little, those butterflies start fluttering around once more.

“Okay, but, next time?” God, will there be one? “I’m paying for you.” Not taking a no for an answer on the matter.

“S’bad manners if I let ye pay for me, hen.” shaking his head once he walks with you to the exit. “Do ye need help taking this to yer car?”

“What? Oh,” shaking your head no, “I uh,” thinking of a quick excuse. “I need to talk to my manager, gott speak with him on somethings.”

“Ye want me to stay then?” His arms cross as he offers, “I can load it up for ye once yer done.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Coming close and petting Oliver one final time, you reach right for the big bag but Johnny’s hand wraps around your wrist gently to stopping you.

“Ye sure?” You take in a quick gasp, he’s nearly at your side. He’s warm, like a furnace, burns hot even when there’s a chill outside. “S’pretty heavy.”

“Y-Yeah,” tugging back from his grasp, “I’m sure,” you pick it up and he helps settle it on your shoulders. Distributing the weight for you so you don’t have to. “You should get home. It’s too cold out to not be wearing a jacket.”

“Donnae worry yer pretty head, lass.” His hand lands on his hip as he watches to make sure there’s not a wobble to your legs. “I’ll see ye?” Though it doesn’t sound like a question, sounds more like he knows he will sooner rather than later.

“Okay,” watching as he finally leaves to load up his car. You hide in the grooming salon till you think he’s gone and then make the trek up to your bus’s stop. Plopping the bag down and you sit to take a deep breath. There’s sweat on your brow despite the cold but your bus should be coming any minute now. Wiping at your brow, you pick up your phone to look on tiktok to pass the time. Once you hear the hiss of the bus stopping you heave the cat bag up and over your shoulders. Trudging along inside and sitting back in your usual spot.

You don’t notice the pair of eyes thats been watching you from a distance. Taking note of your exhaustion from where he observes you, “hm...” He leaves once your bus gets on moving down its route. It takes you straight home as always.

#lolowrites #cats and their men #johnny soap mctavish x you #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x you #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap/reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #who was watching you??#dun dun dun

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munsonsmixtapes · 15 hours ago

Text

That's My Man

rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

Eddie defends you in an interview and you repay him in the most generous way

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (m receiving) handjob, the interviewer makes some inappropriate comments about reader

This is a request made my the always lovely @the-witty-pen-name who also came up with the title!

Eddie puts on the pair of headphones that were pervaded for him as the “on air” sign glows the bright red, signaling that the show has started. He doesn’t even know why he even agreed to this interview. The guy’s an ass and Eddie just knows that he’s inevitably going to say something inappropriate.

He’s really only doing this because his team begged him to. Why, he doesn’t know since the majority of the band’s fanbase hates the kind of guy that Rick is. He’s everything in the book that Eddie can’t stand and now he’s gotta sit here for an hour for his segment. It can’t be too bad, can it?

“Eddie, welcome,” Rick greets and Eddie puts on a smile even though all he really wants is to kick Rick’s ass. He’s unfortunately caught clips of the show here and there and all he does is sexualize women and talk badly about people of color and members of the LGBTQ+ community.

“Hey, thanks,” Eddie replies, trying his best to not say something he really shouldn’t. He just sits there and waits for Rick to start the conversation.

“So you’ve got a new album out which is “From the Upside Down.” What was the process like for creating the record?” Eddie’s genuinely caught off guard by the question considering that Rick never seems to care about that kind of thing. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he initially thought.

“It was actually so different from what we’ve done for past albums. We actually did everything ourselves this time and that was really fun. We took some time off and wrote a bunch of songs and Gareth actually produced them so that was a really cool process to see.”

Eddie loves talking about his music. It’s like a parent talking about their child. He’s always so proud of himself and his bandmates for what they do and he doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. They worked so hard to get where they are now and he’s nothing but grateful that this is his job.

“That’s very interesting,” Rick nods and there’s just something about the look on his face that makes it obvious that he’s about to say some dumb shit. “So I know you’re seeing y/n l/n and can I just say, well done, man.” Yep, definitely some dumb shit.

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes. Normally, Eddie would love to talk about you. It’s actually his favorite thing to do. But not like this, not in the way that Rick and a lot of other men like to. Where they just sexualize you and reduce you to an object. Eddie won’t stand for that for anyone, but especially not you.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m “seeing” her,” Eddie laughs nervously. You’ve been trying to keep your relationship under wraps for the past six months but it’s so hard to do when the two of you are under a microscope.

“Oh, so you wouldn’t categorize this as seeing her?” Rick asks as he pulls up a photo of you and Eddie kissing outside a bar. He didn’t even know that anyone had taken photos of that and now he feels gross.

“Well-” he tries to explain himself but Rick quickly cuts him off.

“Is she a good kisser? Better yet, is she good in bed?” All of this makes Eddie want to throw up and he can’t believe that men like Rick actually have the audacity to ask questions like that.

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” he answers politely even though he’s seconds away from a crash out.

“C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just us.” It’s actually not considering it’s a live radio show and even if it wasn’t, that’s something just between you and Eddie and no one else. Especially not pigs like Rick.

“No, I’m not sharing anything about our relationship. That’s the only thing we have that’s ours.”

“Is she flexible? I bet she’s flexible.” He shows Eddie a photo of you doing a split on stage and his lunch is about to come up. “Oh yeah, definitely-”

Rick doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence before Eddie snatches the tablet and slams it down on the table. He would never let any woman be talked about this way. Especially not his girlfriend.

The anger is festering and he’s having a real hard time trying to keep his cool. Fuck that. He’s not going to be so nice anymore, not wanting anymore disgusting things to be said about you. He can’t let anything else be said about you or he’s going to do something he regrets.

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he points at Rick, glaring at the man and the man actually looks afraid of him. Good. “I know you tend to objectify women and that shit stood today. If I ever hear you talk about anyone else this way or in a derogatory manner, you’ll have me to answer to. Now keep my wife’s name out of your mouth or we’re going to have a problem.”

With that, out of the room. Nothing is worth sitting there and letting that man sexualize you. It makes him feel disgusting and now he feels like he needs a long shower. He’s wiping his jacket with his hands to try to literally get rid of that feeling, but he knows the only thing that will help is seeing you. He just needs someone to talk to about the whole thing.

He’s driving to the venue where you’re performing tonight before he can stop himself. He just wants to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you, hoping that you haven’t been listening to the radio even though he’s sure that you are because you always listen to his interviews.

Eddie’s so angry about the whole thing, still letting it eat at him even though he already took care of it. He just needs to calm down and he will as soon as he sees you. That always makes him feel better. Just thinking about you is doing the trick and when he pulls up to the venue, the weight on his shoulders is lifting.

You’re sitting in your dressing room, doing your makeup when he walks in, your face lighting up when you see him in the mirror. The anger on his face seems to melt away when he sees you, his smile matching yours as he makes a beeline for you. He saw you just this morning but the time you’ve spent away was far too long.

You get up from your chair and he’s quick to pull you into a hug, a tight one as he buries his face into your neck. This is all he’s wanted all day, especially since he stormed out of the interview. You always seem to calm the screaming that’s constantly going on in his head. Your hand moves up into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he kisses your neck, moving your hair away from it as he does so.

You pull away far too soon for his liking before pulling him in for a kiss. He’s needy and desperate and he just wants to show you how much he loves you. Your hands are in his hair as you lick into his mouth, moaning loudly which is only making him harder. He needs your cunt so bad and is so close to taking you right there until you begin to grind against him.

“I heard what you said on the radio,” you tell him as you kiss down his neck, unbuttoning his jeans. “Defending me like that, it was so…hot,” you whisper the last part into his ear before biting down on the lobe before kissing his neck again, giving it a rough suck, making him squirm.

You’re backing him up against the vanity, pinning him there as you continue to suck, his hands falling from you to grip the table behind him, white knuckling it as he lets out a whine, his cock hardening even more to the point where you can now fully feel him against you.

“Now I feel like I owe you.” He defended you and you know it’s because you’re his wife, but you know that he would do that for anyone and that’s how you know you got one of the good ones.

“You-you don’t owe me anything, sweetheart,” he breathes. He really wants whatever you’re willing to give but only if you really want to not because you think he deserves in return for defending you.

“How about I suck you off, is that payment enough?” His eyes widen at both your question and the way you’re biting down on him.

“Please,” he whines, needing to get some sort of relief. You give his neck one more kiss before pulling down his jeans, his underwear following as you get down onto your knees. You’re looking up at him with lustful eyes and he watches you, wondering what you’re going to do next.

You start by spitting into your hand then grab hold of the base, slow strokes to warm him up but they progressively get more intense. He’s already leaking with precum, letting out stuttered breaths as he watches, white knuckling as a moan escapes his lips.

You keep up the pace, moving as fast as you can as Eddie lets out moan after moan. He’s coming undone already so you know he won’t last long. And you only have a few more minutes before you have to be on stage, so you’ve gotta make it worthwhile. You’ve really gotta make this count.

You bring your tongue to the slit, licking up the cum that’s already come out, not wanting to waste a drop then bring your lips to the base, kissing it which catches Eddie off guard. You’re now peppering it with kisses and he somehow gets even more hard as he watches you leave lipstick prints behind. It’s hot. You’re hot and he thinks this is where he likes you most, on your knees.

You then bring your mouth back to the slit, licking it again before bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly as Eddie’s hands wind into your hair, letting out yet another whine as you bring him in deeper, sucking harder as your tongue swirls around the head. You’re taking him inch by inch and he’s so close, on the edge of an orgasm as you finally get the last bit of him inside.

Cum leaks into your mouth as he screams your name, your eyes watering as the head hits the back of your throat, gagging as you suck him off for just a bit longer. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you pull him out of your mouth with a loud pop, making sure to swallow as he helps you to your feet.

Eddie pats your tears dry with a tissue so as to not smudge your makeup before you press a lingering kiss to his lips. You clean him up before pulling up his pants and touching up your lipstick.

“How’s that for repaying you?” You ask and he smiles, still dizzy from receiving the best head of his life as he follows you to the side of the stage, wondering how he can get you to do that again once your show is over. He’s sure that you won’t need much convincing.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!eddie x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut

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wiselyghost · 1 day ago

Text

Incorrect Quotes part 2

ghost: Comparing y/n and soap is like comparing apples and oranges.

y/n: We’re both unique in our own ways?

ghost: Apples are superior in every way and all oranges should be eliminated.

soap: Which one of us is the orange?

soap was later shot 27 times in the bronx

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laswell: Do you want to explain the text you sent me last night?

y/n: It was autocorrect.

laswell: Autocorrect wrote "You're so hot. Please step on me mommy."?

y/n: Yes.

(in y/n we trust ✊)

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price : Hey guys, I found a spider. Cool little lad. Thanks for eating the mosquitos.

price : Oh no, where did it go?

Gaz: PRICE WHAT THE FUCK?!

price: GAZ GET OFF THE FUCKING ROOF-

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Gaz: If I ever had a child, I imagine they would be a lot like you.

Y/n: Aww, thanks—

Gaz: Which is probably why I’ve never reproduced.

Y/n:........

Y/n: I wouldn't either if it was like you it's forehead would be to fucking big.

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Ghost: I have issues.

Soap: Finally, you admit it! The first step to redemption is accept-

Ghost: With you

dawg just make out already 😭

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Y/n: Smart is attractive. Educate me on something I don't know!

König: The mouth of a jellyfish is also an anus.

Ghost: Stop.

Y/n: Don't ever stop

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Soap: Why is Ghost crying on the floor?

Gaz: He took one of those 'what person are you?' quizzes.

Soap: And?

Gaz : He got Y/n.

(currently Ghost)

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Soap: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

Y/n: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Soap: I said within reason, Y/n. How about I murder that guy?

Y/n: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Soap: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

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Gaz: You know guys, sometimes I feel like Ghost doesn't take me seriously enough.

Price: "Sometimes"?

Y/n: "Enough"?

Gaz:......

Y/n: Change that to 'at all' and we'll talk.

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Y/n: Wait, what's going on? Are we all talking about how hot Ghost is? Because Ghost is a straight up sexual fox riding a red-hot nuclear bombshell right toward the yowza plaza in the heart of Babe City, Assachusetts, U S A. The last A just stands for more ass.

Price: Where the fuck do you come up with these things.

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Price: While I'm gone, you're in charge Y/n.

Y/n: Yes!

Price, whispering to Ghost: You're secretly in charge, but I don't want them to feel bad.

Ghost: Obviously.

HIII GUYSSS WISELY IS BACK BABYYYY!!!

I have been gone for a really long time my bad gang but am back in bussines! this was just a little something l though over and thought you guys would like it :) I am open to requets just go to my page and ask! i hope all you beautiful people have a good night/moring/afternoon!

-wisely

#mw2 #ghost mw2 #gaz cod #ghost cod #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #cod #soap x reader #kong x reader

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dollyfiles · 22 hours ago

Text

lovely!kook!reader patching up pogue!jj after a fight with luke

lovely!kook!reader mlist

cw: mention of violence, blood, luke maybank, slight angst, fluff, suggestive towards the end, takes place before lovely!kook!reader and rafe get back together

the room was quiet, except for the distant hum of the ceiling fan and the occasional sharp inhale from jj as you dabbed at his busted lip. he sat on the edge of your bed, his hands clenched into fists against his knees, knuckles still raw from swinging back. but he wouldn’t say a word about it. wouldn’t give in to the pain, wouldn’t let it show. he was good at that—hiding. pretending.

“jesus, jay,” you muttered under your breath, tilting his chin up so you could get a better look at the damage. his skin was scraped raw in places, knuckles split and bleeding, his cheekbone bruised a sickly shade of red.

“didn’t know you cared so much, princess,” jj teased, though his voice was rough, strained. his head was pounding, his ribs ached like hell, but that wasn’t what had him so on edge.

it was you.

the way you stood between his legs, brow furrowed in concentration, your soft hands working so carefully to clean him up—like he wasn’t some reckless idiot who got in fights every other day. like he wasn’t used to this. like he was something worth fixing.

“ya’ trying to kill me?” he hissed, gripping your wrist as the disinfectant hit his wound. “oh, please..” you scoffed, shaking him off. “you’re not that fragile.” but still, your fingertips skimmed his jaw like you were afraid he might break. and that was the thing—jj didn’t break. at least, not in ways people could see.

he let out a breathy chuckle. if only you knew. people didn’t do this for him. he was used to brushing off his bruises with a joke, used to people rolling their eyes, maybe calling him an idiot before moving on. but this—this silent anger in your eyes, this gentle care, this deep, unspoken need to fix something that had been broken for years—jj didn’t know how to handle it.

you surely didn’t have to ask who did this to him—you already knew. luke maybank was a piece of shit. that was more than obvious to anyone who met him. and jj? stubborn and reckless as he was—had been bearing the strength of his fists for years.

it made something burn in you. a deep, helpless kind of rage. because what could you do? call the cops? jj would never let you. confront luke yourself? that was a suicide mission.

you hated this. hated knowing that jj came from a house that was more battlefield than home. but no matter how much you wanted to fix this, to fix him, you didn’t know how.

“hey,” jj said, snapping you from your thoughts. his thumb brushed against your knee, his voice unusually soft. “i’m fine, y/n.”

you swallowed, forcing your eyes back to his lip. “you’re not fine,” you muttered, running a featherlight touch over his cheek. “you just like pretending you are.”

jj smirked, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “what can i say? i’m a great actor.” you huffed, setting the first aid kit aside. “yeah, well, you suck at taking care of yourself though.”

jj’s lips twitched, for a moment he thought it was funny but then he realized that there was actually some truth behind it. because yeah, he sucked at taking care of himself. always had. it was easier that way. easier to ignore it, push it down, pretend none of it mattered.

but you were making it matter.

and that scared the shit out of him.

he tried to brush it off though, eyes flicking down to your lips instead. “that why you’re doing it for me?” you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. instead, you grabbed his jaw and tilted his head up slightly, placing the bandaid firmly against his cheek.

jj groaned, his hands gripping your bare thighs as you moved to stand between his legs, “i think you just like manhandling me.” you couldn’t help but smirked at that, “you are kinda fun to push around.”

jj snorted, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin. his touch was warm, casual—but there was nothing casual about the way his hands lingered, the way his fingertips skimmed just a little higher each time. “y’know, if you wanted an excuse to get close to me, you could’ve just asked.”

you gave him a look. “you have a busted lip, and you’re still flirting?” the pogue boy leaned in, voice dropping to a husky whisper. “can’t help it. you love it.”

and fuck, the way your breath hitched—the way your lips parted like you wanted to argue but couldn’t—yeah, he was right.

maybe you did.

your grip on his jaw tightened slightly, your gaze flickering to his mouth. his lips were split and swollen, but good god, that didn’t stop you from thinking about how good they felt against yours.

jj noticed. of course he did. he always noticed. “what?” he murmured, his breath fanning across your lips. “gonna kiss me better?” you rolled your eyes, but your resolve was already slipping.

“maybe,” you murmured, grazing your finger over another sharp cut on his cheek. and then, without any warning, jj moved.

his hands slid up your thighs, gripping your hips as he pulled you onto his lap in one quick, effortless motion. you let out a breathy laugh, steadying yourself against his shoulders. “jay—”

you were straddling him, knees digging into the mattress on either side of his waist, completely caught up in the heat of him. “you talk too much,” he muttered, and then he was kissing you.

it started off slow, sensual and teasing, his tongue grazing your soft lips, but jj—always impatient—tilted his head and deepened it, his hands roaming up your back, fingers sliding under your shirt, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

and maybe he didn’t. maybe, for the first time in his life, someone actually gave a shit about him. and he couldn’t loose that.

he never thought you, a kook—someone so soft, so good, so far from his world—would be the one taking care of him like this. the one wanting him. not just for the fun, not just for the thrill, but actually wanting him.

and jj wanted you. wanted you so bad it made his head spin.

you melted into him, your fingers tangling in his blonde hair, nails scraping against his scalp as you pressed yourself closer. your hips almost moving on their own as they grinded down onto him. and just as things got more heated—jj winced, his whole body tensing beneath you.

you pulled back immediately, eyes big and concern flashing in them, “jay?” he exhaled through his nose, trying to play it off, one hand pressing against the side of his stomach. “m’fine, don’t stop—”

but you weren’t stupid. your gaze flickered downward, suspicion creeping in as you reached for the hem of his shirt. jj caught your wrists, shaking his head. “y/n—”

“let me see.” jj sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “it’s really nothing—”, you glared at him, leaving no room for argument and after a long beat, jj finally gave in, letting go of your wrists as you slowly lifted his shirt.

what you saw made your stomach drop. a deep, ugly bruise stretched across his ribs, the purple and yellow color stark against his tanned skin. it looked fresh, painful, like he had taken more than just a couple of punches from his dad.

you sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers ghosting over the bruised skin, so careful, so gentle, and fuck—jj hated that it made his throat tight. “how could he—,” you shook your head, cutting your own words, “why didn’t you tell me?”

but jj just looked away. he hated this part. hated the pity, the sympathy, the way people looked at him like he was weak. but when he risked a glance at you, there was none of that. just anger.

he shrugged, eyes flickering away again. “didn’t wanna ruin the mood.” you stared at him, disbelief clear on your face. “are you kidding?” jj sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. “look, it’s fine—”

“it’s not fine,” you snapped, climbing off his lap and grabbing the first aid kit again. “you could have broken ribs, jj.” he groaned, dropping back against the pillows. “you really know how to kill a moment, princess.”

you ignored him, pulling out a bottle of pain relief gel. “shut up and lift your shirt.” jj smirked up at you, “damn, at least buy me dinner first.” you shot him a glare, squeezing a glob of the gel onto your fingers. “next time i’ll just let you suffer.”

“you’d miss me too much.” you huffed but didn’t deny it. cause it was true. instead, you gently spread the gel over his bruised skin, watching as his expression softened slightly, the tension in his body easing under your touch.

jj’s eyes flickered up to yours, something soft settling in his gaze. “you don’t have to do this, y’know,” he murmured. you swallowed, your fingers lingering on his skin. “yea,” you whispered. “i do.”

jj swallowed, something hot rising in his throat. guilt, maybe. embarrassment. hell if he knew. but you didn’t push, didn’t ask him to talk about it.

he just watched you, chest tight. why were you doing this? why did you care? and then, jj reached up, brushing his knuckles lightly against your cheek. “you’re kinda perfect, y/n,” he murmured, his voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

you felt your heart clench, warmth spreading through your chest at his words. yet you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your pulse raced. “you’re just saying that ‘cause i’m taking care of your dumb ass.”

“maybe.” jj smiled, like genuinely smiled. but this time he meant every word.

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englishisaboutconfidence · 2 days ago

Text

Just Another Day

Why were you here? Once again you had let your friends drag you to a party that while you didn't despise it, you certainly didn't fit in. Your friends, loving and as great as they are, love to hype up a party, assuring you that you will have a great time while there and as always, the first 30 minutes to an hour are great. Then they get distracted or pulled away by other people you know. You follow them for a while but eventually you just feel like a burden and let them do their thing while you wander around the party aimlessly. After wandering into what looks like a small lounge area, you quickly take the seat vacated by someone who clearly has other plans for the rest of the night and you open up your phone to browse Reddit. Yep, you are one of those people. After browsing it for a few minutes, the background behind your phone changes from an endless movement of bodies, to one static body. Looking past your phone you are met by the gaze of one Anna Tanaka or Anna Jang as some like to call her.

She is staring at you like your mere presence offended her and in a way it did. She's one of the campuses IT Girls and you are just a nerd who has charismatic friends who got you into this party. Knowing that she won't leave you alone until you do what she wants, you put away your phone and start to get out of your chair. Seeing you start to move, Anna turns around and leaves the room. Following her around like a lost puppy, you follow Anna throughout the house until she enters a room on the second floor. Entering a few seconds after her, you realize where you are: her bedroom. After realizing where you were, your eyes found Anna staring at you, stone faced. Tracking her eyes, you realize that she wants you to sit on the bed with her. Sitting down, you turn to her expecting a lecture; but instead you are met by a pair of eyes staring into what felt like your soul. Clearing your throat to try to cut through the awkwardness, you realize that she was waiting for you to talk. "Hey Anna, how are you". crickets "Okay yes I know this is a bit weird me at your party announced. I didn't realize the party was here and I didn't even want to come in the first place. Okay I wanted to at the start but then I remembered how much I like not being at parties." still no response from Anna "Okay Okay, I'm sorry that I'm here… unannounced. I should've told you that I was going out to a party and once I realized it was here, I should've texted you the situation." "And?" she finally responded. "And… I love you?" SHe cocked her eye at you waiting for more "and I'm going to spend the entire weekend making it up to you?" "Good". Sighing a breath of relief, Anna quickly gives you a soft peck. "And I love you too Y/N".

Oh yeah, you forgot to mention something. You and Anna have been dating for the past 2 years in secret. Well maybe not secret, you two never hide your relationship in public, but you also never actively showcased it. Anna's friends knew because well they knew everything that happened at the school; but also because they had caught you one of your first times sneaking into the house to meet Anna. You two had met during freshman orientation and while you never expected anything other than maybe the occasional greeting in passing to come from it, you two had actually bonded quite nicely. You were an Econ major and she was a Psych major, but surprisingly you shared 2 of classes your freshman year. The first day of classes, you had arrived early and sat in the back. She arrived a few minutes later and after scanning the room plopped down right next to you. Seeing her sit down, you gave a slight nod in acknowledgement and before returning to your phone. "A slight nod, that's it? Didn't your parents teach you any manners or at least sociable niceties?" Anna spat out with a clear annoyance in her voice. "Sorry, how are you Anna?" "Fine, whatever". Unsure how to proceed you just sat there quietly until class began.

Your following class went well enough that you almost forgot about your incident with Anna, your professor even dismissed you a few minutes early so you could get to your next class with plenty of margin for tardiness. Seeing that no one else had gotten there yet, you proceeded to sit in the back again and hop on your phone. Being too absorbed in your phone, you didn't notice something sitting down next to you until you heard an exasperated sigh. Taking your eyes off your phone, you look to see who made the noise and you are met by the annoyed yet exceedingly beautiful face of Anna Jang. Realizing that she was looking at you expectantly, you ask her how the rest of her day has been. "It's been good. Nothing crazy, just lunch and syllabus day in my other class". "How about you Y/N?" You began to answer her but you were interrupted by the professor starting the class. 70 minutes later, your first day of classes was finally over.

After an awkward first day of classes, you and Anna actually were able to have a pretty good rapport. You and she would talk throughout your shared classes and would partner up whenever you had to pick a partner or do a group project. She quickly became famous throughout the school. You , on the other hand, stayed relatively unknown except to the few circles you ran in. One night, you were playing LoL with your old highschool friends when you started to get a FaceTime. Picking up your phone to answer it, you are surprised to see that it was Anna. You had texted for projects or just to go over homework; but you had never FaceTimed her. Quickly fixing your headset hair, you answer the FaceTime. "Y/N-a, where are you" You hear Anna slurred out. "Anna, who did you FaceTime?". you hear her friend and fellow IT Girl Ella Gross yell out. Seeing her come into picture, you see the a surprisingly unsurprised Ella. "Oh hey Y/N". Caught off guard by how nonchalant she was, you quickly shake off your surprise and answer her "Not too bad, how about you? Seems like y'all are having a good time" "you know what, not too bad too. Although, it's only been 15 minutes and Anna is already acting buzzed and FaceTiming you." Confused by what she meant, you suddenly here Anna, fully sober sounding, "Yaaah, Ella you can't tell either of those things". Realizing what she said and how she said it, Anna shyly turns back to the camera and you can see a blush creeping up her neck. "Hey Y/N" "Hey Anna". Neither of you knew what to say next, you two let the gap in the conversation become filled with awkward silence. Finally Ella decided to butt in and save the two of you, "God you guys are terrible at this. Y/N, Anna is wondering if you would like to come out and hang out with us?" "Uh, yeah I'm down." "Perfect, we are at The Reserve." "Cool, I'll see y'all in a bit". You say goodbye to your friends and quickly throw on some acceptable clothes and head out to meet up with Anna and her friends.

15 minutes later, you arrive at The Reserve and start to look for Anna. Looking around lost, you feel a tap on your shoulder and you are greeted by a blushing Anna and an annoyed Ella. "Hey Y/N" "Hey Anna" "God not this again, you two need some drinks" you heard Ella say before marching off to the bar. "So uhh, how are you Anna?" "Pretty good, I've been working out more recently so that's been great and my classes have slowed down so that's good. How about you?" "Good too, just hanging out, playing games, and chilling." Unsure what to say next, you feel the awkwardness start to take over; but luckily your shared savior Ella returned with 6 shots. "Bottoms up you two. You both clearly need this to get the conversation going". All 3 of you grab a shot in each hand and quickly knock them back. After letting the liquid courage take hold, you and Anna's conversation quickly picks up. You two spent the rest of the night dancing, talking, and taking more shots.

The next day, you woke up extremely groggy. Blinking rapidly trying to clear up your vision, you felt an unfamiliar weight on your chest and an unknown warmth around your nether regions. Regaining your vision, you realize that your not in your room and that a woman is laying on top of you. You then start to get flashbacks of what happened the previous night after taking those shots with Ella. You and Anna had spent the rest of the night attached at the hip and when it was time to leave, Anna asked you to walk her home. Being the gentlemen you were, you had of course accepted and when she had opened the door to her dorm, she quickly turned around and pulled you in. Pulling you like she was walking a dog, she dragged you into her room and shoved you onto her bed. You couldn't remember what happened next, but the next thing you remembered was you locking eyes with Janna before burying your cock inside her warmth. Your mind then skipped some more and all you could remember was her having to tear your mouth off her tits so she could kiss you and you filling her with load after load of your cum. You then remembered that you had never actually pulled your cock out of Anna's creampied pussy. That realization along with your memories from last night caused your cock to quickly return to fall mast. You started to feel Anna slowly move her hips, looking down you are greeted by Anna smirking at you. "Oh hey Y/N. Fancy seeing you here" seeing you completely flustered, Anna sat up to straddle you and started to move her hips even faster. "Y/N, you are going to need to start to take more proactive actions if our relationship is going to work". You open and close your mouth like fish while trying, begging your brain to come up with a response. Seeing you struggle, Anna decided to save you. "Yes, I said relationship. You. Me. Boyfriend. Girlfriend. Okay?" Still unable to form a sentence, you just respond with a nod. "Good. Now stop thinking and just fuck me". That got you to regain your composure. 2 rounds later, you carried Anna into her bathroom and indulged in your first instance of shower sex.

"Y/N?" "Sorry Jagi, I was just remembering our first day." "Don't you mean the day after our first night" Anna smugly responded. Pushing her back onto her bed and hovering over her, "No actually, I was remembering when I first realized that you were a little slut who loves getting her cunt filled with load after load". "Oh really, you sure I'm not just a little slut for the man who took my first time?" "Jagi, don't you forget that you took my firs time as well and that you initiated it". "Oh did I? I don't remember exactly what happened that night" Anna coyly answered. "Oh really? Why don't I remind you then" you whispered into her ear. Giving you a quick kiss on your lips, Anna smirked at you "Finally, only took you 2 years to become proactive. Now Jagiya, why don't you stop yapping and instead fill my pussy with the cum it so sorely needs". Lining up your cock with her entrance, you give her a loving kiss on her head before saying "Trust me Anna, I am going to make sure never forget who owns this cunt".

#anna smut #meovv smut #anna tanaka #anna jang #kpop x male reader #male reader #kpop smut #kpop x reader

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