#seeing everyone having a good time just warms my heart | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

urno1luv · 2 days ago

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love ur works!! could u write abt ceo g!p nayeon being possessive with secretary reader and gets jealous whenever she sees someone “flirting with her” and proceeds to claim and corrupt reader :) 😵‍💫😵‍💫

summary: nayeon helps you understand how jealous you make her by (kinda) confessing to you then eating you out in her office 🍒 for valentines today 💝

Working as CEO Im Nayeon’s secretary was a privilege—at least, that’s what everyone in the company told you. She was powerful, brilliant, and effortlessly charming, a woman who had the entire business world wrapped around her finger. You admired her work ethic, the way she carried herself with unwavering confidence, how her mere presence could command an entire boardroom. But what you didn’t notice—what you had been blind to this entire time—was how possessive she was when it came to you.

At first, it was subtle. Nayeon had always been particular about who you interacted with, but you chalked it up to her wanting to keep her inner circle small. Whenever a colleague lingered too long by your desk, she would find an excuse to summon you to her office. Whenever a client complimented your work a little too enthusiastically, she would dismiss them with a tight-lipped smile, her nails tapping impatiently against her desk. You never questioned it. To you, she was just being her usual, exacting self. It never crossed your mind that her behavior only ever surfaced when you were involved.

Then, the possessiveness became more obvious. One afternoon, as you sat at your desk typing up reports, a junior executive approached you with an easy smile. He leaned against your desk, far too close, and offered, "Hey, you’ve been working hard. How about a coffee break? My treat." His voice was warm, friendly, but before you could even register the offer, a chilling presence cast a shadow over the interaction.

Nayeon stood there, her expression unreadable, though the sharpness in her eyes told an entirely different story. "Y/n is busy," she stated in a tone that left no room for argument.

The executive, sensing the shift in atmosphere, chuckled nervously. "Oh, I was just—"

"Did I ask?" she interrupted smoothly, her voice deceptively sweet.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Oh, but I don’t have any meetings—"

"You do now," she cut in without missing a beat. "In my office. Immediately."

Your mouth opened to protest, but the steely glint in her gaze made you swallow your words. You quickly grabbed your notepad and scurried after her, still not understanding what had just happened. As soon as the office door shut behind you, she sighed, rubbing her temples as if exhausted by the ordeal.

"Why do you always let people talk to you like that?" she muttered, leaning against her desk.

You blinked at her, tilting your head in confusion. "Like what? He just asked me for coffee—"

"And that’s exactly the problem," she snapped, standing abruptly and walking around her desk until she was in front of you. "You don’t even notice when people are trying to steal you away from me."

Your heart stuttered at her words. "Steal me? Nayeon, that’s ridiculous. No one’s—"

Before you could finish, she placed her hands on either side of your chair, effectively trapping you in. The proximity made your breath hitch. Her eyes bore into yours, dark and unreadable, and for the first time, something about her intensity made your stomach twist in an unfamiliar way.

"I don’t like it when other people get too close to you," she murmured, her voice softer now, but no less firm. "You belong to me, Y/n. You know that, don’t you?"

The weight of her words settled over you, but you still didn’t quite grasp the depth of what she was saying. Your throat went dry. "I—I understand…?" you answered hesitantly, unsure of what she wanted to hear.

A small smirk tugged at her lips, her fingers brushing against your cheek in a barely-there caress. "Good," she murmured, as if pleased by your response. She lingered there, her touch light yet possessive, before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "From now on, if anyone asks you out, tell them you’re already taken."

You frowned, blinking up at her. "But I’m not dating anyone—"

She leaned in even closer, her lips nearly brushing against your ear as she whispered, "You are now."

Your breath caught in your throat, and before you could process what she meant, she finally pulled back, a satisfied glint in her eyes. At that moment, something clicked—something you had been too naïve to notice before. This wasn’t just about work. This wasn’t just about professionalism. Nayeon had already claimed you long before you had even realized it.

The air in CEO Im Nayeon’s office was tense, though you couldn’t quite understand why. You sat at your usual spot, organizing reports while she skimmed through documents at her desk. The silence between you wasn’t unusual, but something about today felt… off. Ever since the incident with the junior executive the day before, Nayeon had been watching you even more closely. Every time you so much as greeted someone in the hallway, her gaze would darken, her lips pressing into a thin line.

But you thought nothing of it. You had no reason to.

Until now.

A knock at the door interrupted the quiet atmosphere, and before you could even rise from your chair, the door opened, revealing none other than the same junior executive from before, Seungmin. He looked hesitant, as if he already knew he was walking into dangerous territory but had chosen to step forward anyway.

"Good morning, CEO Im," he greeted politely before turning his attention to you. "Y/n, I just wanted to apologize if I made you uncomfortable yesterday. That wasn’t my intention."

You blinked in surprise. "Oh! No, you didn’t. I—"

"You did," Nayeon interrupted, setting her pen down with a sharp click against the glass table. Her expression was unreadable, but her tone was laced with clear warning. "And now, you’re interrupting her work."

Seungmin hesitated but forced a polite smile. "I just wanted to clear the air. I didn’t mean to overstep."

"You did," she repeated, this time pushing back her chair and rising gracefully to her feet. Slowly, she made her way around her desk, her presence exuding dominance as she approached where you sat. "But it seems you still don’t get it."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Nayeon, he was just—"

Before you could finish, Nayeon turned toward you and, in one swift, deliberate motion, cupped your face between her hands and pressed her lips against yours.

Your mind blanked.

Her lips were soft yet firm, a silent declaration rather than a fleeting touch. The warmth of her hands against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, and the sheer confidence in the way she kissed you left no room for doubt—this wasn’t just an impulse. This was intentional.

Your breath hitched as she pulled away, her fingers lingering on your jaw as she tilted your face up to meet her gaze. The smug smirk tugging at her lips sent your heart into overdrive. "Do you understand now?" she murmured, her voice so quiet yet deafening in the intimate space between you.

It wasn’t until Seungmin let out an awkward cough that reality crashed down on you. You quickly turned your head, face burning, only to find him standing there frozen, mouth slightly agape. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable—partially because he had just witnessed the CEO kiss you in broad daylight, but mostly because the message was crystal clear.

"I—I should get going," he stammered, stepping back toward the door. "Again, my apologies."

Nayeon barely spared him a glance. "There won’t be a next time," she said dismissively, watching as he practically bolted out of the room. Only when the door clicked shut did she finally return her attention to you.

You were still in a daze, staring at her with wide eyes. "You… you kissed me."

Her smirk widened. "Of course, I did." She brushed her thumb over your lips, her touch lingering. "How else was I supposed to make sure everyone knows you're mine?"

Your heartbeat was erratic, your mind struggling to keep up. "But—"

"No buts." Her expression softened slightly, though the possessiveness in her eyes never wavered. "I told you, Y/n. You belong to me."

You weren’t sure what was more overwhelming—the fact that she had just kissed you in front of a colleague, or the way she said it with such certainty, as if it had always been a fact rather than a new revelation.

And as she leaned in once more, lips ghosting over yours in silent promise, you realized one thing: whether you fully understood it or not, Nayeon had no intentions of letting you go. Not now. Not ever.

The kiss deepened, her tongue slipping into your mouth, as your cheeks reddened. You knew she had a soft spot for you, but you didn't know that she held so much... passion.

She pushed you onto her desk, standing between your legs, as her kisses trailed further and further down. You reciprocated her touches, your arms wrapped around her neck, pulling her closer to you. Nayeon hummed in satisfaction, and her hands sneakily groped your ass, sighing at the moan you let out.

She pushed her paperwork out of the way and laid you down, her lips immediately reconnecting with your body, unbuttoning your blouse while kissing the exposed skin, before she pulled your pencil skirt up, and what graced her eyes was a beautiful sight of your red lace panties. "It's almost like you knew i was going to fuck you, huh. You dirty girl."

She ripped off your panties and shoved her nose into your cunt, the fragrant, musky aroma welcoming her. You whimpered, feeling embarrassed as you could feel yourself leaking onto her face. Nayeon lazily lapped up your wetness, before delving deeper into you, suckling at your bundle of nerves. The sensations removed any sense of nervousness from you, as you pushed her head into you, biting your tongue in a fevour. Nayeon took that as an invitation to completely let go, her tongue working in a quick and effective way, as you could feel yourself reaching your orgasm already.

One more flick is all it takes for you to come undone. The coil in your stomach suddenly snaps, white flooding your vision, the entire room going silent for a moment, and then you came all over on your CEO's face. Nayeon didn’t let up straight away, instead she encouraged a few more spurts from your pussy until you blacked out on her desk. This will be an experience that you would both remember for a long while 🍒

#urno1luv #im nayeon #nayeon #nayeon x reader #nayeon x fem reader #kpop scenarios #kpop smut #twice x fem reader #twice x reader #twice smut #twice scenarios #girl group smut #girl group x female reader #nayeon twice

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levanterhaze · 2 days ago

Text

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡ ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader there's no smut in this one just a sliiiight mention of it, this is just drama and angst because this chapter will tell a lot about their future relationship! contains mentions of anxiety too.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[5.5k words ]♡― i can't believe that so many people like gameboy, like, that's crazy! thanks for everyone's support. to those who ask to be added to the taglist, it warms my heart. if you want to talk about the story or anything else, i'm open to questions and conversation! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three]

You're scared of heights, that's vertigo You wanted lights, go see a show You ran away, that's touch and go You're scared of love, well, aren't we all?

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into two days, then three, then four. Before you even realized it, seeing him had become part of your routine, like breathing—natural, inevitable, and far too easy to justify.

Today, though, your mind was anywhere but on him. Mrs. Baek had scheduled a meeting, nothing more, nothing less. You and Hyunjin were goofing around, hands clasped as you twirled like a chaotic, offbeat version of Jack and Rose at a third-rate ballroom. Seungmin doubled over laughing, because of course he did. That was just your dynamic—ridiculous by nature, friends for life.

Then, everything stopped. A chorus of surprised gasps cut through the room, followed by an eruption of chatter that made your spinning halt. Confused, you glanced around, searching for the source of the commotion—until you saw her. Mrs. Baek stood at the front, and next to her…

No. Absolutely not.

Your stomach flipped as your eyes landed on him. Standing there with his head tilted slightly downward, one hand gripping the opposite arm—ridiculously muscular, by the way—Bangchan looked unfairly good in a black T-shirt that was doing the bare minimum to cover anything.

Your gaze flickered to Hyunjin, then to Seungmin, silently demanding an explanation, but before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the haze of your disbelief.

“…which is why we now have a new student to take care of the sound design. Welcome, Bangchan.”

And then—anger.

The girls whispered like they’d just witnessed the famous idol in the world. Bangchan basked in the attention, grinning at them, then at the guys. And then, of course, his eyes found you. One brow lifted, pure challenge.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Sound design? Since when?” you weren’t really expecting an answer, but Hyunjin, ever the dependable sidekick, squeezed your shoulder and offered a half-smile.

“It’s kinda his and Jisung’s thing,” he said, arms crossed as he observed Bangchan effortlessly charm his way through the group. “Jisung’s drowning in work this semester, so I guess that’s why.”

Oh, how nice. How convenient. You couldn’t care less. It was one thing sneaking around with him in secret. It was another for him to invade your space. Your special space. And worse—acting like he belonged there.

As soon as the group began to break apart, you made your exit, feet moving fast. The last thing you needed was—

“Running away already?”

You stopped dead, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Spinning on your heel, you found Bangchan standing there, arms crossed, smirking like he had all the time in the world.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you shot back.

“Ouch.” he clutched his chest, faking a wince. “You look angry.”

“Oh, do I?” your voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s because I am.”

Lucky for him, the corridor was empty—just the theater crew lingering in the distance.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

“Gonna need you to be more specific.”

You inhaled sharply. “Seriously? Sound design? You don’t even like theater.”

He took a step closer, brows furrowing.

“How would you know? We’re not friends.” the way he said it was off—something about his tone made your stomach twist. But you ignored it. “And if you actually bothered to find out, you’d know that, shockingly, I do this for real.”

You hated being proven wrong. But you especially hated being proven wrong by Bangchan.

“Look,” you sighed, arms crossing. “I don’t know what your game is, okay? But just… don’t mess things up. I like them the way they are.”

Bangchan nodded, slow and deliberate. But something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable. His stomach clenched, and he didn’t like the reason why. Because the way you said it, like having him here without sex was some kind of inconvenience, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” his voice dropped an octave, sharp and cold. He met your gaze head-on, not an ounce of warmth left. “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

And just like a punch to the gut left hanging in the air, he was gone. No rush, no glance back—just the weight of his words lingering between you.

Things were a mess, and you needed to get a grip. Studying, focusing—doing something that wasn’t theater or… well, him. The last few days had blurred together, your attention split in ways you weren’t used to. And you hated it.

The library was too quiet, the kind of silence that crawled under your skin. Three art history books sat open in front of you, mocking your lack of focus. It was ridiculous. How the hell had you let some guy scramble your brain like this? That wasn’t you. It had never been you.

Frustration boiled over, and before you knew it, you snapped one of the books shut, the sharp thud cutting through the silence.

“Jesus. What did the book ever do to you?”

The voice came from behind you, smooth and amused. You barely looked up before Mingyu’s face came into view. It hit you then—how distracted you’d been at the fundraiser. Otherwise, you definitely would have noticed him before. That annoyingly charming, white-knight smile. Tanned skin. Muscles for days.

He grinned, leaning over your table, arms flexing just enough to be intentional.

“Sorry. My head's a mess.”

Mingyu nodded, taking in your exasperated, borderline fried expression. “Yeah, you look like it,” he said with a knowing half-smile, sliding into the empty chair across from you like he belonged there. No permission needed.

You sighed, gesturing vaguely at the books. “Just trying to focus.”

His smirk deepened. “Right. Because nothing says laser focus like slamming a textbook shut like it just insulted your mother.”

You huffed, but the corner of your mouth twitched.

“Well, since you’re clearly on the verge of a breakdown, I have an idea.” He leaned back, stretching in a way that was both casual and strategic. “A coffee. On me.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your phone vibrated against the table, barely visible beneath the stack of books. A quick glance at the screen. One new message.

Bangchan: my dorm. 30 min.

Your pulse jumped. Short. Direct. No room for misinterpretation.

“Everything okay?” Mingyu’s voice pulled you back, his eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah, yeah.” you laughed, maybe too lightly. “Just… distracted. Coffee sounds good.”

His grin widened. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

“Just let me put this back…” you grabbed one of the books, heading for the shelf when your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: ignoring me?

You exhaled, fingers hovering over the screen.

You: I can't. I have plans.

A pause. Then—

Bangchan: ok.

You pressed your forehead against the bookshelf, inhaling deeply, willing away the strange tightness in your stomach. It was ridiculous. It was just a text.

When you returned, Mingyu was still at the table, casually texting someone. He looked up as you approached, grinning. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, forcing a smile.

He was nice enough to grab your bag and help carry your notebooks, the easy charm of someone who had probably been effortlessly handsome his whole life. The café wasn’t far—just a short walk from campus—but the crowd made it feel like the busiest spot in town.

Mingyu picked a table near the entrance, the air thick with the smell of espresso and fresh pastries. Strawberry sponge cake. Cinnamon rolls. Chocolate mousse cupcakes. The kind of place that made you want to abandon all responsibilities and drown yourself in sugar.

And yet, as you sat down, all you could think about was the ok.

Mingyu ordered coffee for you both but went the extra mile, adding a slice of strawberry shortcake to share.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” you smiled, wrapping your hands around your cup, already feeling the caffeine seep into your system like a lifeline.

He shrugged. “I wanted to. You looked like you needed something sweet.”

You caught the double meaning but let it slide. He was being nice, and you weren’t in the mood to overanalyze. “Right. So… football?” Smooth. Real smooth.

Mingyu didn’t seem to mind. “Going well. We’re set for the next game, and if we keep this up, the next university sponsorship should be ours.”

“That’s great, Mingyu.”

“Yeah, but I heard drama class was saved. Good news, huh?”

“Great news. We’ve got enough for now.” you took a bite of cake, letting the sugar melt on your tongue. Mingyu watched you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m happy for you. Getting the basketball team to sell brownies half-naked must’ve been a real passion project.”

You laughed. “It was, but that wasn’t me. That was Bangchan.”

It felt strange, saying his name out loud. Different when he wasn’t there.

Mingyu frowned, arms crossing over the table.

“Bangchan did that?” his brows knitted together, skepticism lacing his tone.

You shrugged, taking another bite of cake. “That’s what I heard. Why? You guys friends?” the idea alone made your stomach twist in an oddly unpleasant way.

“No. Not even close.” he laughed, shaking his head as if the thought was ridiculous. “Just curious.”

“Well, instead of wasting brain cells on him, you should try this.” you pushed the plate slightly toward him. “It’s actually amazing.”

Mingyu picked up a fork, took a bite, and let out an appreciative groan. You grinned, clapping your hands as if you had just won a bet, then promptly stole another piece for yourself.

Being with him was easy—effortless, even. A surprising friendship you hadn't expected but didn’t mind one bit.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee were curled up on the couch, sharing a bucket of popcorn while a movie played on the laptop. Your casual entrance was met with two pairs of curious eyes locking onto you like detectives sniffing out a case.

“Where have you been?” Eunji narrowed her eyes, her fingers pausing mid-popcorn grab.

“Why?” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she accused, tilting her head. “Always busy, barely around.”

“Sorry, I... I've just been very busy. The theater is eating me up. And there's the exams...”

Sohee smirked. “Why do you smell like coffee?”

“What?” you instinctively sniffed your shirt, the rich aroma of espresso lingering faintly.

Eunji gasped, scandalized. “You totally went out with someone!”

Sohee just shook her head knowingly, already seeing through you. “Liar.”

“Alright, fine! I got coffee with Mingyu. Happy now?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Sohee’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Mingyu from the soccer team?”

Eunji, on the other hand, nearly leaped off the couch. “Girl, you rocked it! I knew you had game, but Mingyu? That man is fine.”

You groaned, already regretting your life choices. “It wasn’t a thing, okay? We’re friends. We had coffee. That’s it.”

Eunji scoffed, dramatic as ever. “Honey, nothing with Mingyu is just coffee. That man doesn’t do casual.” she clasped her hands together like she was already planning your wedding.

You sighed, exasperated. “Make her stop.” you turned to Sohee, your last hope.

But Sohee just smirked. “I mean… she’s not wrong.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Oh my God.”

“Look, you’ve been drowning in rehearsals and exams. Maybe this is a good thing,” Sohee added, ever the voice of reason.

A good thing. That uneasy feeling crawled up your spine again.

Because the problem wasn’t Mingyu.

Because you had met someone. Someone who already occupied every corner of your mind. Someone who texted you with demands instead of invitations. Someone who kissed like it was the only language he spoke.

And that someone sure as hell wasn’t Mingyu.

“Alright, I’m done.” you grabbed your things and stood up. “I’m taking a shower. Goodnight.”

Before they could say another word, you ducked into your room, shutting the door behind you.

Now, if only you could shut off your thoughts just as easily.

It was lunchtime, and the table was buzzing with chatter. It had been nearly two days since you’d heard from Bangchan. Odd, right? The silence felt almost intentional. No texts, no glances that said too much.

You were sharing a basket of French fries with Hyunjin when suddenly, that topic came up. Jisung was DJing at another party this weekend, and everyone was planning to go. Of course, Eunji—bless her heart and big mouth—decided now was the time to bring up the perfect subject.

“You should invite Mingyu, now that you’re going out and all.”

You nearly choked on a fry, coughing like you’d just inhaled a cloud of smoke. Hyunjin slapped your back, but you could feel all eyes on you as the table went silent, then turned to look in your direction.

Bangchan, seated across from you, slouched in his chair like he didn’t care. But you knew better. The tension radiating from him was like a ticking time bomb.

“You’re seeing Mingyu?” Hyunjin’s voice dripped with mock disbelief. “How am I your best friend, and this is news to me?”

Great. Just great. The whole table was waiting for an answer, and suddenly, everything felt like it was about to spiral out of control.

“Going out with Mingyu? Really?” Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “I thought you had better taste, bro.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not dating anyone!” you shot back, finally managing to catch your breath after the shock of the conversation.

“Sure, sure. But you two went out the other day, didn’t you?” Eunji grinned, clearly enjoying every second of it.

You felt it before you saw it: Bangchan’s eyes, burning into the side of your head. His silence wasn’t just a void, it was a warning, sharp and heavy. You should’ve felt guilty—after all, you had brushed him aside for Mingyu.

“But we’re not together,” you quickly clarified, hoping to quell whatever storm was brewing behind his eyes. “And he’s practically at every party anyway. It’s not like he’s not going to show up.”

Eunji wasn’t buying it. “Still should invite him, though.”

Hyunjin tossed an arm around your shoulders, all casual but still sorta protective. “Alright, stop messing with my girl,” he said, voice light but you could tell he wasn’t having it.

You muttered a quick ‘thank you,’ relieved when the focus shifted away from you. Your thoughts drifted as you nibbled on the end of your fry, mind half on your food, half on the tension buzzing at the table.

Bangchan, though, wasn't as distracted. He sat there, twisting his tongue inside his cheek, fighting off the surge of frustration coiling in his gut. The thought of you with Mingyu? It hit him like a wrecking ball. Not just because you had ditched him for the guy, but Mingyu.

He could hardly keep his anger in check. Only his closest friends knew the history between the two of them—and no one, especially not you, would ever guess how deep that hatred ran.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a word, he stood, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

“Leaving already?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow. Lunch still had half an hour left, but Bangchan didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, gotta handle something,” he muttered, his voice sharp enough to make everyone shut up for a second.

The group barely noticed his departure. You certainly didn’t. After all, it wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary. Right?

The days were flying by, and with every one that passed, the auditions loomed closer. The lineup was finally set—each student would perform next Friday, the day before Jisung’s party. No pressure or anything. Your nerves were on high alert, and anxiety was practically gnawing at your bones.

And then there was Bangchan. Or rather, the lack of him. You hadn’t heard a word from him in days. During the rare times you actually sat with the guys for lunch, his seat was just... empty. And you pretended not to care, stealing quick glances and keeping your mouth shut.

Most of your free time was spent holed up in the library, pretending to study, or locked in your room, trying to convince yourself that, yes, you could totally make it through the semester without crumbling under stress. Mingyu had texted you a few times, but you’d dodged his messages so hard that even you felt guilty about it.

Not that he seemed to care. The guy was persistent. He still wanted to take you out, get to know you, charm his way into... whatever he was aiming for. Just today, he’d invited you to join him and the soccer team at some bar near campus. Apparently, they were celebrating a big win—not that you had a single clue who they even played against.

You needed to get out. Desperately. But showing up solo to a team hangout? That was a level of confidence even you didn’t have. So, naturally, you did what any sane person would—you called your emergency contact.

Hyunjin picked up before the second ring.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to return from the dead,” he drawled.

“Yeah, yeah. Roast me later. Right now, I need a favor.”

“Hm. Depends.”

“There’ll be drinks,” you baited, already knowing his answer.

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I go, you have to give me the full rundown on whatever mess you’ve got going on with Mingyu.”

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back like the universe was punishing you. “Ugh. Deal.”

Satisfied, you threw on a black fit—strappy top, skirt, boots, plus a long-sleeved cardigan for balance—and grabbed your phone to text Hyunjin.

And that’s when you saw him.

Bangchan.

Walking toward his dorm, jacket slung over his shoulder, bag in one hand. The second he spotted you, it was like his brain hit a hard reset. Blue screen. No thoughts, just you.

You, on the other hand? You just…froze. Phone still hovering mid-air like you were trying to signal the mothership.

He looked good, annoyingly so—tired, sure, but with that effortlessly undone look that made you want to fix things that weren’t even broken. And judging by the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you looking this good either.

You could practically hear the battle happening in his head. Logic telling him to keep walking. Instinct screaming at him to drag you somewhere private and remind you exactly why you shouldn’t be ignoring him.

But no. Neither of you moved. Just standing there, locked in some ridiculous silent standoff from across the way.

That is, until a hand brushed against yours.

“Took you long enough,” Hyunjin teased, but his voice trailed off the second he noticed who had stolen your attention. His steps slowed, eyes flicking between you and Bangchan like he’d just walked into the middle of a soap opera.

You bit back a smirk, shoving down the weird twist in your stomach. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin hesitated, still piecing things together. Then, with a last glance at Bangchan—who looked like he was about two seconds away from saying something he’d regret—he sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, brows still furrowed. “Let’s go.”

The moment you step into the bar, Mingyu zeroes in on you like a man on a mission—half-drunk, half-thrilled, and entirely shameless about how his gaze drags over you. He grins, tells you how gorgeous you look, and hands you a shot of soju like it’s a requirement for entry.

Hyunjin, of course, fits right in immediately, the social butterfly that he is. Meanwhile, you start to relax, the initial nerves fading as the drinks flow and the unfamiliar space becomes less intimidating. Mingyu’s friends are nice—too nice. The kind of nice that feels like they're sizing you up, like you’re some kind of prize waiting to be claimed. Mingyu’s prize.

The room is loud, buzzing with alcohol-fueled laughter and drunken debates, but your thoughts are fixated on something else. Someone else. And damn it, Mingyu is right there, flashing that easy smile, brushing his fingers against yours like it’s an accident every single time. Complimenting you in ways that should make your stomach flip.

But all you can think about is the guy who hasn’t spoken to you in days. The one who supposedly doesn’t want you anymore.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

With a frustrated sigh, you push back your chair and stand. You’re not even tipsy, but everything suddenly feels too hot, too suffocating.

“I need water,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else, and head for the bar before you do something stupid.

Mingyu appeared at your side, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world.

"All good?"

You forced a smile, gripping the cool glass of water like it could ground you. "Yeah. Just needed something cold."

"Glad you came," he said, smirking slightly as he looked down at you.

He’s the one you should want, the one who actually wants you.

Your gaze flickered to his lips. A bad idea waiting to happen.

Mingyu caught the hesitation, eyes darkening as he glanced between your lips and your eyes. You barely had time to register what was happening before your hands found his shoulders, his lips pressing against yours.

The guys erupted in cheers, their drunken approval ringing out across the bar.

And after that, a blur of stolen kisses, too much soju, and voices too loud to ignore.

The night air was crisp against your flushed skin as you and Hyunjin walked back toward campus. The distant hum of the city buzzed in your ears, the alcohol still warm in your veins, though the high of the night had started to fade. Your heels clicked against the pavement, and Hyunjin, ever the gentleman, walked just a step closer in case you stumbled.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You hummed a response, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Your mind was a tangled mess of soju, Mingyu’s lips, and something deeper—something you weren’t ready to admit.

Hyunjin let the silence settle for a moment before he spoke again. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. Here it comes. “If it’s about Mingyu, I—”

“It’s not.” he cut you off, tone softer than before. “It’s about Bangchan.”

Your stomach twisted.

You stopped walking, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Your hands fidgeted, grasping for something—anything—to ground you. “Why would you ask that?” you muttered, trying to play it off, but even you could hear the slight tremble in your voice.

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying you. “I figured it all out.”

A sharp inhale stung your chest, and before you could even think of a response, it hit you. The overwhelming, suffocating weight of everything you’d been trying to bury. The frustration, the confusion, the way he made you feel like you were something and nothing all at once.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin muttered, eyes widening as the tears spilled over. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his chest, letting you press your face into his shoulder. You clung to his jacket, shaking as silent sobs wracked through you. Half-drunk, half-heartbroken, you let yourself break in the only safe place you had at that moment—Hyunjin’s arms.

“I don’t— I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” you mumbled against the fabric of his hoodie, voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin sighed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

But it wasn’t okay. None of it was.

After a few minutes, he gently pulled away and wordlessly handed you a bottle of water he’d bought from a vending machine nearby. You took it with shaky hands, gulping down the cool liquid as if it could wash away the lump in your throat.

As you wiped your eyes, Hyunjin leaned against the streetlamp, watching you carefully. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you and Bangchan?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I wish I knew.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

With a deep, shaky breath, you finally let it spill. “It started as something casual. No expectations.” your fingers tightened around the water bottle. “But then he started pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because he got bored, or if I did something wrong, or if this was always the plan. I don’t even know if I want more, but the fact that I’m this messed up over it?” you scoffed, blinking back fresh tears. “That has to mean something, right?”

Hyunjin exhaled, his gaze thoughtful. “Damn.”

You let out a wet laugh. “That’s all you got?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? That doesn’t sound casual to me.”

Your stomach twisted. You knew that. You knew that. But hearing it out loud made it real in a way you weren’t ready for.

You swallowed hard, voice small. “I got myself into this mess. I was the one who asked him to keep it a secret.”

Hyunjin frowned, his posture shifting. “Why?”

“Because I was scared,” you admitted, the words raw in your throat. “Scared of what people would say. Scared of the judgment. You know how it is—girls get torn apart for way less. And I worked too hard, cared too much to be reduced to just that girl who’s hooking up with Bangchan.” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And now? Now I don’t even know how to deal with it. Because I was supposed to hate him, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, his usual teasing gone. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But you also don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your throat tightened. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” he bumped his shoulder against yours. “You’re just in deep.”

You exhaled shakily, leaning into his warmth as you both started walking again.

“Look, I don’t have the answers. But I do know you’re not crazy for feeling this way.” he squeezed your shoulder. “And if he’s too much of an idiot to see what he has, then maybe you should let him be the one losing sleep over it.”

You sniffled, managing a weak smile. “You’re my soulmate, Hyun.”

“Damn right I am,” he said, flashing you a grin. “Now drink your water before you pass out, drama queen.”

You laughed—actually laughed—and for the first time that night, the weight on your chest felt just a little bit lighter.

The day had finally arrived. Showtime. No matter how many times you’d done this, stepping on stage always felt like a first-time, heart-in-your-throat kind of thing.

Up in the audience, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Sohee were posted a few rows above Mrs. Baek, waiting for you to do your thing. No pressure.

Backstage was quiet—eerily so. You sat there, taking slow, deep breaths, wiping your sweaty palms against your thighs like a seasoned pro in pre-show anxiety management. You were next. Three minutes. One shot. No room for mediocrity.

You’d chosen a song that wasn’t just sentimental—it was a statement. A vocal rollercoaster that climbed from deep, rich lows to a falsetto so clean it could cut glass. If you were going to go down, at least you’d do it swinging.

Reaching into your bag for your water bottle, you were mid-sip when movement in the distance caught your attention.

And just like that, reality glitched. Bangchan.

It was almost ridiculous how unreal he looked, like a mirage conjured from some fever dream. You hadn’t seen him in days, and yet here he was, strolling in like he hadn’t been living rent-free in your mind this whole damn time.

Laptop in hand, fingers flying across the keyboard, looking every bit the sound tech genius he was. You hadn’t expected him to actually show up for this gig, but—oh, look—there he was, punching buttons like he was defusing a bomb.

Then, he saw you. And something shifted.

His fingers stilled, tightening around the laptop.

The air was heavy. The tension was palpable. Whatever was going on between you two didn’t need words—it was written in every sharp breath, every stolen glance.

And just like that, your pre-show jitters had a new contender.

"Hi," you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Bangchan gave you a small, polite smile—too polite. Something about it felt off. The usual spark in his eyes? Gone. And that was all it took for reality to sink in.

So that’s it, huh?

The game was over. You had your answer. He was done, and honestly? You couldn’t even be mad—because weren’t you just as much to blame?

Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the buzzing in your head, thanking the student who had just finished performing. You’re next.

You turned away from Bangchan, unscrewed your water bottle, and took a long sip, willing yourself to focus. Breathe. Lock in. You’ve got this.

Then it happened. A warm touch on your waist—his touch.

Your body betrayed you instantly, heat rippling through your skin like a live wire. It had been days, and yet, all it took was this—a single touch—to remind you how much you’d missed him.

You spun around, frowning, swallowing hard as your gaze locked onto his.

Bangchan didn’t back down. If anything, he doubled down.

His arm lifted, caging you in the small space between you and the backstage wall, pulling your bodies so close it was downright insane. His head tilted slightly, studying you, reading every little reaction like he already knew the ending to this story.

Without warning, Bangchan crashed his lips onto yours, his free hand gripping your waist like he had no plans of letting go. His palm slid up your back, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt, branding heat into your skin.

You barely had time to process before his tongue was in your mouth, claiming, demanding—like he was making up for every second of distance between you.

A sound slipped past your lips—a mix between a sigh and a moan, involuntary, unstoppable.

God, you hated how easily he unraveled you. And worse? You loved it too.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatshirt, yanking him closer—like you needed him just a little closer, just a little longer. Your lips moved in sync, deepening the moment, drowning out everything else.

Then—

Mrs. Baek’s voice rang through the backstage, shouting your name.

Then reality crashed back in.

But instead of nerves clawing at your stomach, instead of the suffocating pressure you’d felt moments ago, there was something lighter—something electric. Like a field of wildflowers blooming where anxiety used to sit.

You pulled back, panting, heart racing, but this time? You were smiling. Bangchan, just as breathless, leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Break a leg," he murmured.

And just like that, you knew you would.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely

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aethon-recs · 11 hours ago

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This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (1 – 14 February 2025)

We are officially at 15,647 fics in the ship tag at the time of this post, up from 15,508 fics just two weeks ago! And that doesn’t even count the number of updates for ongoing fics that were published during that time (of which there were approximately 300+ total updates). Keep up the great work, everyone! 🤍

Tomarrymort Completed Fics

To Live Again by @mosiva (E, 17k, complete)

Harry’s luck wouldn’t be that bad. Still, he probably should have kicked the habit of being disrespectful about the emperor. After all, it had got him executed ten years earlier.

Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic (E, 19k, complete)

"I wanted to see you," Tom says. "I missed you." Tom wants to deepen his relationship with his father. If only his "mother" wasn't in the way…

A Prick of the Tongue Upon the Spindle by beetaker (M, 45k, complete)

(F/F Tomarrymort) On the night of Harry's eleventh birthday, she dreams a wonderful dream of sulphur and brimstone, as though she is descending down a spiral staircase in the oven-roasted centre of the earth. The way is dark and treacherous, as there are no handrails with which to steady herself, and no light by which to see. But the air smells warm and heavy, like burying her face in fresh mulch and breathing in life and the smell of sweetly rotting strawberries. And there is something else alongside Harry, some weighty presence following her, looming over her so she will know she is not alone.

Tomarrymort One Shots

One Shot | One slap, two slaps, three slaps by @albondiguilla007

One Shot | Into the Harryverse by @duplicitywrites

One Shot | kid (call me when you're sober) by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | unraveled at the seams by @defectivehero

One Shot | no good deed goes unpunished by @known-concepts

One Shot | A Touch of the Devil by cainfyre

One Shot | By Any Means: Dick Riding Edition by @corpium

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapters 1 through 3 of Follow where she goes by @mosiva

Chapters 20 and 21 of the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3

Chapter 30 of Of Kings, of Pawns, and of Men by @ambivalens999

Chapter 18 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapter 24 of Paved With the Best Intentions by @perhaps-sunlight

Chapters 11 through 21 of je ne m'y soumets pas (I will not submit to fate) by @phqyd-roar

Chapter 1 of love you down to the bone by @aitafrog

Chapter 25 of Date Ideas for the Linguistically Inclined by Antique_Mango

Chapters 7 and 8 of Fool me once by @holaolla1

Chapters 8 through 10 of Part Two - To Grow a Heart by @iseliljathedreamer

Chapters 13 and 14 of Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic

Chapters 21 of Hole in the Wall by @elddrmot

Chapter 3 of The Stubborn Hunger by @marrythemonsters

Chapter 8 of Bitumen by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 17 and 18 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapter 13 of Of snakes and stags by @luketheidiot

Chapters 1 and 2 of for i am with you by @solelyseeking

Chapter 8 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 1 and 2 of thimble of the banshee by @houndsofheaven

Chapter 10 of 7 by @moontearpensfic

Chapters 1 and 2 of Tom Riddle is Homeless in the Summer of the Year 1942 and It's the Best Thing That Ever Happened to Him by Anonymous

Chapter 13 of A Light That Never Goes Out by @kippipies

Chapter 4 of exitium by @leafsandstarlight

Chapter 146 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapter 10 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

Chapter 1 of The Casanova Hunt by @dragonaireabsolvare

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #tomarrymort recs #aethon recs #tomarry recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #hp fic recs #harrymort recs #tomarry weekly #this week in tomarrymort

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leclercskiesahead · 3 days ago

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Spanish Heat

You have been to Sardinia. You have been to Corsica. Mallorca is the same. The ocean is always cold at night.

I wrote this last year when @underthelightsblog kindly let me contribute to their C2 keychain companion booklet. If you ordered her keychains, you might have already read this! I didn't want to spoil it before she could send everyone their booklets, and then it felt a bit weird to post it in winter, so I'm sharing it now as a Valentines' post!

Charles is cold.

He is in Spain. In summer. It was perfectly hot and sunny in the morning, as he had expected, and his skin is already a bright pink that the internet will surely laugh about.

So why is it so cold??

Carlos is never cold. He is always nice and warm whenever Charles bumps into him as they compete in their silly challenge, searing hot when he traces his fingers down Charles’ arms in a way that means something different from teammates, blistering heat when he presses into Charles at night, and warm again when Charles curls up next to him as they drift off to sleep.

Carlos is always talking about his Spanish blood and oh I’m Latino I’m fire and how warm Spain is compared to Modena, where they work.

So Charles thought he would come to Spain and bake in the sun. Instead, he is going to freeze to death at night.

And he doesn’t have a warm Carlos to curl up with. Because Carlos is in Scotland for his friend’s birthday.

Charles shivers as he swipes through his phone. There’s a video of Carlos at his friend’s party, singing along and looking not at all cold in his simple sweater.

Doesn’t it always rain in Scotland? Carlos hates the rain. He loves his warm and sunny home country. But the one time Charles finally booked a trip there for summer break, Carlos had other plans.

It’s unfair.

Charles is cold. He is also impatient.

So he calls.

“Hola.”

“You didn’t tell me Spain is so cold.”

There is a laugh. Charles pouts even though Carlos can’t see how displeased he is. He is cold and freezing, and Carlos is laughing at him.

“Cabrón. You have been to Sardinia. You have been to Corsica. Mallorca is the same. The ocean is always cold at night, no? Did they teach you in school? Or you didn’t pay attention.”

And well, yeah. Charles hadn’t thought about that.

But he still has to make a point.

“I was very good at school,” he huffs. “I always got good marks and paid attention.”

Another chuckle comes through the phone. “Sure, love.”

He can hear Carlos rolling his eyes. So annoying. But the pet name still makes part of his chest feel a bit fuzzy. And now he’s a little warm.

But still not as warm as the real thing.

"When are you coming here," he whines. Not that he doesn't already know the answer —

"You know when, mate, you made me send you my itinerary."

— but maybe if he asks enough times, Carlos will get annoyed and join him sooner.

"Then hurry up, Carlos," he says, his accent thick around the 'r'.

The phone transmits a static noise that Charles figures is Carlos tsk-ing at him. "Always so bossy," is the reply he gets. Then more gently, "Just a few more days. I will be right there, love."

"I want you now." His brain knows that logically, Carlos can't just abandon his own friends like that. But his heart wants what it wants. And if it can't get what it wants, then he'll just be a bit whiny about it.

"You are in Spain, think about me everywhere."

"Yes, yes," Charles nods, as if he hasn't already stalled multiple times in a day because something sets him off daydreaming about his boyfriend. "You have to win the golf now, since you are making me wait."

"Of course," is Carlos' smug reply. "Please don't fall down or hit anyone while you are surfing or doing volleyball or anything else."

Annoying man and his annoying ability to play all sports.

———

They have a yacht day planned, and a good amount of their supplies for this segment are in Charles' room because he has the biggest room because he likes to treat himself during his summer break. Also because he had booked it with some wishful thinking that he could be bringing someone with him.

Anyway, he has to get all their stuff from his room while his friends go to the dock to prepare the yacht.

Joris follows him to his room to help.

“Jesus Christ, why is it so hot here? Have you not burnt enough outside?”

“It’s cold at night."

"It's not that cold."

"It is science, Joris. Did you pay attention in school?"

Joris doesn't answer. He stares at Charles. Sighs. Walks over to one of the bags and pulls out a white lump of clothing. Stuffs it into Charles' hands.

"What is..."

It's one of the Ferrari fashion sweaters. But Charles doesn't remember packing it for this trip (because it is summer and they are going to Spain, where it's supposed to be hot and sunny, why would he need a sweater?). And when he unfolds it, it looks a size bigger than what he wears.

"I found it in your room," Joris says. "Maybe it can keep you warm. Until..."

He waves a hand and makes a knowing face.

Right. Joris goes to nearly all the races now and has seen more of what Charles gets up to off track than he needs to, whether as a friend or personal assistant. That also means he knows Charles, and he knows how Charles is when it comes to things related to a certain other driver who shares his name.

Charles holds the sweater against his chest. He has the decorum not to press his nose to the fabric there and then, but if he focusses, he can still pick up the lingering trace of a familiar cologne.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Yeah, don't mention it," his friend says, grabbing two large bags. Right, the rest of the group is probably waiting. He stops in the door. "It's not that cold, Charlie. Maybe only your bed."

He ducks out before Charles can smack him. He has the best friends. Really.

———

"Oh, it's windy, no?" Someone says while they all rest from a game on deck.

Charles turns to give Joris A Look. See? He's not the only one who feels cold.

"That's why we can't stay out too long. It's better in the water." And then they are all jumping in again.

Someone starts a swimming race. Bad idea. Because Charles can't not give his all in any sort of competition and because he trains the most out of all his friends — it comes with the job. He's going to win by a large margin.

It's also a bad idea because no one knows which marker they are using as the finish line, so everyone is paddling madly in all directions, and at some point, Charles realises he's ended up swimming away from everybody else. Which could be the large winning margin he wanted, but it's also possible that he's gone the wrong way and ended up further from the finish line. He can imagine everyone laughing at him, and the competitive racer inside him fumes.

Grim and determined, he starts paddling back, only for an air horn to snatch his attention.

A jet ski whizzes by, curving around and slowly circling towards him, like a shark. Or maybe a stingray, because Charles thinks his heart might have stopped. It's hard to see against the bright sun and with some saltwater in his eyes, but the figure on the jet ski is recognisable to Charles anyway.

Carlos rides up next to him with his perfect windswept hair and a sly smile.

"Hola," is all he says.

Charles is already grabbing his outstretched hand.

"Mate! You are early!"

"I told you I was coming today."

"You didn't say what time," Charles argues. "You sounded like —"

He tries to haul himself up the ski and nearly slips because he forgot his body is still dripping seawater.

"Ay, be careful," Carlos nags. Not that Charles really listens because he has two large, hot, searing hands on his waist as Carlos wrangles him onto the ski. A full view of a bare shoulder under a life vest.

Spain is very hot indeed.

"Good," Carlos mutters when Charles is finally settled on the ski. "How can I surprise you if I tell you exactly what time I'm arriving?"

Charles can't think of an argument. The breeze from earlier has returned, and he can feel goosebumps breaking out on his still-wet skin.

He presses into Carlos. The life vest is still in the way, but leaves enough exposed for Charles to feel the heat he has been craving this past week and a half.

He is wet and cold and feels Carlos' muscles jump at the initial contact.

"Ay, mate," he complains, but shifts to accommodate Charles anyway.

That's how Joris finds them later, tucked together on a deck chair as Carlos enjoys a beer and Charles enjoys Carlos' body heat.

———

"Mate, you are using the heater?" Carlos says when they retire to Charles' room — their room — for the night. He moves to turn it down with one hand while towelling his hair off with the other, freshly showered. Charles stares at the perfect dark locks sticking in all the right directions.

Tonight had not felt as chilly as the previous nights, but Charles had still turned the dial up out of habit when they had returned earlier.

"Is that mine? Ay, no wonder I couldn't find it."

Ah, yes, the sweater that he had stolen from Carlos at a race that Joris brought here for him. Laying across his lap.

"I was cold," is all he manages to say.

Carlos has a stupid grin on his face. Charles wants to kiss him.

So he does.

Charles is no longer cold.

#clairwrites #charlos

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the-mandawhor1an · 3 days ago

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Searching for the stars pt.3 | Marcus Acacius x f!Reader

Summary: You could have never guessed how much your life would change when you first looked into the dark brown eyes of a stranger who showed up at your work place one day, claiming to be a Roman general who presumably died 1800 years ago.

Words: 2.1k

Tags: Time travel; puppy Marcus; fluff galore; wedding; we might need tissues; no use of y/n;

(further tags omitted to not spoil the outcome)

Speech in italics indicates that Latin is being spoken.

Notes: Part 3 comes just in time for valentines and I did not hold back on the fluff. Happy end incoming. (Also there might be a prequel, who knows)

Comments etc. are appreciated

Divider by @saradika-graphics

“Hey, wake up,” you were awoken by a raspy, sweet voice, whispered into your ear as soft kisses wandered all the way down the side of your neck towards your shoulder. You felt another body right behind you, snuggling against your back and one arm around your waist. “I’m awake,” you yawned and turned your head. “Good morning,” you greeted the man behind you with a soft smile, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose. “Good morning, my love.”

You turned your body around to face him, placing a kiss on his lips, which he eagerly returned. “What if I don’t want to get up?” you teased, running your fingers through his dark curls. “Guess we’re not getting married, then,” he concluded with a shrug, rotating his head to look into your eyes. You knew he didn’t mean it, but you joined into the discussion nonetheless. “No, that’s unacceptable.” “Well,” he hummed and nudged his nose against yours, “then you have to get up, my precious.” You let out a sigh in protest. “Fine.” A soft kiss later, you rose and got out of bed.

It was still very early in the morning. You both had to get ready and you preferred to have enough time to prep just in case things didn’t go according to your plan. First, you hopped into shower, taking your sweet time to mentally and physically prepare you for the long day ahead. Fresh coffee greeted you when you returned to your kitchen. Marcus looked absolutely delicious in the black polo, casually leaned against the kitchen counter, a mug of coffee in his hand too. As soon as you had walked over to get your coffee, he wrapped his unoccupied arm around you, pulling you close to his warm body. “How are you feeling?” “Excited,” you replied, raising the coffee to your lips and taking a careful sip. It was still a mystery to you how he did it, but the coffee always tasted better when he made it.

“Not nervous?” he asked, a smirk creeping up to his lips. “Not at all. I get to marry my best friend.” As soon as you had finished your sentence, his smirk had turned into a full-blown grin. Infected by his expression, you grinned as well, suspecting you knew why your reply made him grin like this. “I did it again, didn’t I?” He nodded. “You sure did. Even with the same facial expression.”

You leaned in closer, allowing him to kiss your forehead while you hummed approvingly. “Isn’t it boring that I’m so predictable?” you asked, not really meaning it, though. Nevertheless, your fiancé refused to even entertain the thought. “You know that I would never grow tired of you.” With the bald patch in his beard just within reach, you kissed the heart-shaped spot and whispered against his skin “keep some of the sweet talk for your vows.” Marcus hummed as well, closing his eyes for a second. “I have plenty more.” “You sure do,” you said as you stole another kiss. Finally, you focused on your coffee and the schedule for the day.

Instead of doing it like everyone would expect, you and Marcus got ready together. None of you believed seeing the bride before the ceremony would bring bad luck, so it just made sense. Besides, you were there to help him in case he needed it. He had gotten adapted to the 21st century quite nicely, but every now and then, he would get stuck and you were ready to help. Additionally, getting ready with him meant you could sneak in a few more kisses and spend time with him – as if you didn’t get enough with him.

Curiously, Marcus watched as you did your own makeup, watching you though the open bathroom door. He had seen it before, but his fascination with you never ended. Every time you came out with a hand mirror to check if you looked horrible in natural light, he seemed completely hypnotized by the mere sight of you. Of course, the first steps looked a little weird, but with every in-between check, the vision of your wedding makeup became clearer and the love in his eyes grew. “You’re so beautiful,” slipped out of him, speechless otherwise so his brain defaulted back to Latin. “Says the handsome one,” you responded, lowering the mirror to give him a warm smile. It was as if you could the little hearts in his eyes. “Come on, I’m an old man.” You shook your head. “Stop that, you’re not.”

Just some time later, you assisted him in buttoning his shirt up and adding the bow-tie. Technically he could do it himself, but it was hard to keep your hands off of him when he looked this good. “Do you remember when you did that for the first time?” You looked up to him, the same expression on his face now that had been there all this time ago. By now it felt like it was years ago. “It was your first full day here, of course I remember.” How could you forget? Your life project, the work you had put your everything in, practically coming to life and he was there, in your apartment, in all of his glory. “I thought about kissing you back then,” he confessed. How would you have reacted to it, you wondered. “Well, you can kiss me all you want now.”

Taking the invitation, he leaned in and kissed you a bit hungrier than usual, causing you to pull back. “Careful, the makeup will smudge,” you reminded him, but it fell on deaf ears. “I don’t care,” he growled. “I do!” A soft chuckle escaped his lips. ”Save that for later.” You rolled your eyes in a playful manner. “Idiot.” “All your fault.”

When it came to getting into your dress, Marcus of course helped you. “You’re so beautiful,” he swooned, not able to take his eyes off of you. “So are you,” you purred. Not wanting the opportunity to go to waste, you took a few pictures in your apartment, before wind might ruin your getup or tears that would surely come sooner or later could mess with your makeup. Marcus looked absolutely gorgeous in his suit and as persistent as he was in telling you you looked like Venus herself would get jealous, you thought he looked like the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

The way to the courthouse was short, you and your husband-to-be holding hands all the way there. The courthouse was small and just minimalistically decorated, you weren’t expecting many guests. Your fiancé lacked family members and everyone you had invited knew why this was the case. As strange as it sounded at first, they had adapted to him just as he had to adapt to the modern times. The ceremony was relatively short, there was no need to mention religion and you would save your vows for the reception afterwards. Your hand was buried in Marcus’s when you listened to the officiant’s speech.

Marcus never stopped looking at you, and a knowing glance was exchanged when the officiant mentioned intertwined fates. You winked at him, he gently squeezed your hand in return. When it came to exchanging the rings, Marcus tugged at your heart strings badly. With your shaking hand in his, he gently slid the wedding band onto your finger and softly said “I promise I’ll be the husband you deserve, in sickness and in health. Until my last breath.” As soon as he saw you tear up, tears sparkled in his eyes as well. “And I’ll be the wife you begged the stars for, until my last breath.” This was it for the vows, at least for now. You were sure he still had a lot more to say in private, and so had you. He kissed you gently, but pulled you in close, one hand in the back of your neck. A little protest escaped you when he pulled back. “Later, my love,” he whispered against your temple before he placed another kiss on your skin.

The party after the ceremony was held in a back room of a somewhat fancy restaurant. You had cake, coffee, lots of fun and later in the day you also had dinner together. You had danced so much with Marcus that your feet felt a little numb and you were thankful to be sitting. Marcus looked so good in the gray suit, especially in the softer light the candles gave off. The silver threads in the fabric sparkled just like the grays in his hair did. He was so damn perfect and he was all yours. Your husband. It felt surreal, like a fairytale that had turned into your reality. It felt like yesterday when you first laid eyes on him; the general. Marcus Acacius, general of the Roman empire.

While you were having dinner, he had his hand on your thigh rather than holding your hand, you needed it to eat, after all. Still it felt so intimate with him, him never breaking contact with you one way or another. His love was so obvious, so pure. Despite your concerns for him, he managed to carry conversations all on his own, switching between English and Italian every now and then, sometimes mixing the two. It made you wonder if he had practiced in secret.

Back at home, it was about 11 at this point, you slow danced on the balcony, still in your wedding dress, under the stars, with just him and you. “I love you, Marcus” “I love you too.”

You looked up an him, there was a sparkle in his eyes, brighter than you had ever seen before. “We haven’t exchanged vows,” he reminded you, placing a kiss on your lips. “If you want to see me cry so badly, do it.” A grin crept up to his lips. “If they’re tears of joy I’m fine with them. Ready?” You nodded and cuddled up to him, leaned your head against his shoulder. You felt him take a deep breath before he started. “I promise to protect you and make sure you receive all the admiration, adoration and support you deserve. I want to make sure you know how precious you are to me and how much I love you.” With a soft hum, you raised your head and kissed his cheek. “and I promise to be there when you need me. I’ll take care of you and make sure you’ll never miss your old life.”

He leaned his head against yours. “I thank the gods for allowing me to have a second chance, to fall in love with you all over again.” “Ubi tu gaius, ibi ego gaia,” you said and cupped his face in your hands. And there were tears in both of your eyes, but you knew he just teared up because you were crying. “I hope today wasn’t too much for you,” you added. Marcus shook his head. “It’s fine. You had fun and I had something beautiful to look at all day.” He grinned and you shut him up with yet another kiss.

Still caged in his arms, you turned around so you could look at the stars together. “How was your first wedding?” you asked him, leaning your head against his again. “Bigger than this. Less formal. Way more alcohol and louder.” He chuckled. You could barely imagine what a wedding back then had looked like, but you were sure he had been just as happy as he was right now. “What about Astra?” “Strikingly beautiful. She was in tears more times than I could count on our wedding day. She was so happy.” With a sigh he kissed your temple and pulled you in closer. “We don’t have to talk about her any more. I know she is happy and safe. Whether it’s in my arms or in the afterlife with our daughter.”

Speaking of…

“Have you ever had a name for her?” “No, Astra wanted to wait until our child was with us before we would choose a name. She didn’t like the idea of just calling her Acacia after me.” “I really like the name Stella,” you said as you closed your eyes and let your body sink against his. Marcus’s chest rumbled. “Mh.” “You don’t like it?” “I do but why have you picked a name for a child you don’t –”

As you opened your eyes again, you saw the expression on his face go from confused to surprised. His mouth fell open and soon enough his lower lip quivered. There were tears in his eyes and you knew there were about a million thoughts racing through his mind in this moment. “You’re…” You nodded. “We are. It’s a girl.”

#roll a trope challenge #marcus acacius #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius x reader #marcus acacius x you #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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chaot-c · 2 days ago

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Messaging to say thank you for what you said. It means a lot to me and I’m sure others feel the same. I hope you can take time to care for yourself after it. You are a good person. You don’t have to share this, but I want you to hear it. Thank you. Truly.

I appreciate this, anon. It takes a weight off of my shoulders to hear that it wasn't just in vain, and it's been warm in my heart to see others are feeling seen for my words.

I really didn't want this to become a fight or, gods forbid, tumblr drama. I tried explicitly not to attack anyone in my original post. I was really neutral and I had several people look it over like, "hey, am I being objective? Does this read well and say what I mean?"

I will admit fault in that I could have clarified stronger that I don't care about the jokes, but I must also admit that it was a hell of a reach to assume I was attacking people when I very much just said, "this is something to consider."

I just.. thank you. Thank you to my friends who had to watch this, thank you to those who felt safer that I said something, and thank you to those who saw the post, disagreed, and then just kept scrolling. It's cool of you. This was cool of you anon. I appreciate everyone here.

#people can and should disagree with me at times!!#I want to learn from you guys #I don't need nor want to be right with 100% of my takes #i encourage everyone to be willing to educate each other and assume people are coming in good faith at least at first #shout out to that one guy who said I was kendrick lamar and that the other person was drake though #I don't condone that shit but it made me laugh #it was so toxic and that shit was straight up mean but i sat with my head in my hands for like 15 whole minutes #raven responds

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synvil · 3 days ago

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Chocolates // Matt Sturniolo

a/n : pure fluff. school setting!

synopsis : you weren’t planning on giving out any chocolate, even if you did make one.. but something unexpected happens.

Valentine’s Day.

The holiday that most people cherished, especially the people around you. It was important, one that was often celebrated whether with friends, partners or alone.

It is finally the end of class for you. The long, boring day of classes gave you a headache and all you want to do is go home and crash in bed.

Not to mention, you didn’t really have anyone in mind to give chocolate or spend this special day with anyways, so a nice romantic comedy film and snacks was good enough for you.

Though, it probably didn’t help that the entire day was filled with various couples or confessions or just people exchanging stories, gifts and sweets to one another. It wasn’t like you were jealous but the sight was pretty repetitive to watch.

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a small box. “There wasn’t a point in making any chocolates after all.”

Exhaling softly and glance at the small wrapped back in your hands and tuck it into your bag before standing up from your desk.

Making your way out the door, you pass by the lingering students around the classroom and the hallway.

And of course, since it was the end of the day for most people, the hallways were filled.

Everyone was exchanging gifts and chocolates to one another, a few more than others.

Even some of the teachers and staff got some from the students, as today was a pretty special occasion. Everyone knew everyone in this school, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise.

“Time to go home.”

Heading out through the crowd of people, you go to turn the hallway when you stumble upon another confession, but this one caught your eye.

Matt Sturniolo.

You weren’t sure what your problem with Matt was, Matt was a great guy. He had great manners, is kind to everyone he meets, popular but warm-hearted, and not too mention handsome.

It was no surprise to see his bag overflowing with chocolates and gifts.

But even then, something about him just put you off. Perhaps it was because he seems to constantly be around wherever you were.

It wasn’t like you hated Matt but you were just awkward and confused, wondering why he always seemed to be around you, striking conversations when you hardly even knew him. Even earlier today he tried to but with it being Valentine’s day, he was busy all day receiving gifts.

You go to just walk past but you stop, instead choosing to hide behind the wall.

You’re curious to see what he was going to do with the female in front of him. Not only was she giving him chocolates, it seems she was confessing to him.

“I think you’re really handsome.. Would you maybe go out with me?” Her hand held out a letter for him, signed with just his name and a heart.

Matt blinks before he smiles gently at the girl and pats her head. “For me? That’s really sweet.” He hums, moving his hand to place over hers that grips the letter and you can see her eyes light up with hope.

“But.. I’m afraid I have feelings for someone else. My sincerest apologies, miss. I don’t mind being friends though, if you’re alright with that.”

The usual kind smile plasters over his face and even if she was just rejected, the girl just couldn’t say no.

“Oh.. well I don’t mind. I’m okay with being friends! Thank you, Matt.” With that, the female heads off with a smile, leaving him alone with the letter in hand.

You blink at what just happened before glancing at Matt who was staring at the letter, seeing him put it into his bag. Furrowing your brows, you turn away and shrug.

“Feelings for someone, huh? Surprising.”

For some reason, hearing that made your heartstrings tighten just a little bit, but you figure you were just feeling dehydrated is all.

Just as you went to continue walking, a voice peers behind you.

“[Name]? What’re you doing like that?”

Jumping in shock, you turn around to see Matt standing with quite the puzzled look. “Sorry, did I scare you?”

Your eyes narrow towards him and you furrow your brows. “How did he get behind me so quickly??” You decide to disregard it and just exhale heavily.

“Nothing, see you tomorrow, Matt.” You mutter, walking away with your bag to the front of the building, when Matt follows you, smiling.

“Going home already? Hey, did you give chocolates to anyone?”

Confusion laces your eyes at his question but you disregard it, reluctantly answering.

“Yeah, I am going home. The school day ended. And why does it matter if I did or not?”

“Oh, right.” Matt chuckles sheepishly before smiling softly. “Well, I was just curious since you have a box sticking out of your bag. Either you made or bought those for someone or someone gave them to you, so I was just wondering. Sorry.”

“Nothing like that, dumbass... I don’t know why I made them..” You knew exactly why but you didn’t want to admit it.

Matt stays silent as he follows you to the door before offering a smaller smile and reaching into his bag, digging deep to grab a particular item.

“Here. I want to give this to you.”

Hearing him, you glance over and see the item in his hand. It was a deep, crimson red foiled box, with your name on it.

“... is this one of the chocolates you were given?”

Matt widens his eyes and shakes his head assuredly. “No, it’s my own chocolates. I made it myself! I wanted to give it to you before you left.”

Matt reaches for your hand and places the small box into it, his smile widening. “There.”

You glance down at the red box and see a tag, reading your name.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, [Name].”

Matt rubs the back of his neck a bit shyly, his cheeks dusting pink. “I really like you so i wanted to get you something today... anyways, I should let you get home, you must have special plans. I’ll see you.”

With that, Matt began to walk away, hands in his hoodie pockets and a gentle smile on his lips.

This guy.. always so nice and considerate.. you never would’ve dreamed the person he liked was you.

Slowly, a blush began to form on your cheeks as you grip the box. “..”

“Matt!”

The male turns around at his name, just to be met with a box being tossed his way.

Expecting it to be his box, he was instead surprised to see it [ Color ] instead of his dark red one and he blinks, looking up at you to see you faced away.

“H-Happy Valentine’s Day..”

Matt tilts his head as he glances down at the box again, a bright grin starting to form as he sees the tag, labeled with his name.

“To Matt Sturniolo”

Just as you slowly turn around to see his reaction, you see the beaming grin on his face, seeing him hold up the box of chocolate.

Bringing it to his lips, he presses a tender kiss to it.

“Thank you, [Name]! I’ll savor it!” He calls out as he walks backwards, winking as he did so before running off.

You merely blush at the action and clear your throat, looking down at the small box in your hands.

“Matt Sturniolo..”

a/n : not edited. i’ll finish rafe’s in the morning and post it when i can. being sick has really fucked me up more than i thought. agh this is kinda cringe but hopefully rafe’s is better.

#matt sturniolo blurb #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolos #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo oneshot #matthew x reader #matthew sturniolo x you

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torgawl · 1 year ago

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someone was cutting onions during the lantern rite cutscene

#i am emotional #gaming is literally my son #i felt proud of him as if i had birthed him myself #seeing everyone having a good time just warms my heart #i love how the theme was familial love and how we get little moments with each family #zhongli telling xiao to visit the funeral parlor more was very 'son come home to have lunch with me and your sister on sundays' of him #i hope we get to meet xiao as we planned on the last day of quests because i miss my boy #and i was a little disappointed he didn't appear in the cutscene at all #but it was still such a cute event <3 #xianyun is the mother of all time #i'm so freaking happy to see so much of shenhe!!! she's the character of all time #i like how she casually said she threatens her clients 😂#shehe not understanding social rules and how to properly socialise is so comforting to me #the fact she's beautiful and men have tried to approach her but she just doesn't get it and doesn't show interest in any of that #is chef's kiss #and cloud retainer telling shenhe her pure personality is what made her special even if she technically embarassed them was so cute #love them so much aaaa

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ienvieu · 2 years ago

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the irony that is me loving my parents and still them being the two people i am the least honest to and feel the least safe with my secrets

#today was shit #i pray that tomorrow is better #he knows. he understands. he makes me forget. he probably doesnt even know how seen i feel and how much of a breath of air he is to me #he makes me forget when he's nearby even when he's doing nothing and i feel so so safe that he knows #and he's so kind and is so warm-hearted #he is so tender inside and i have seen him cry more than a few times because of things i dont want to mention #and he doesnt push even when he addresses the elephant in the room and i never feel judged #and i only see him thrice a year for a week each time #and those weeks are the highlights of my year #so bizarre how i feel more cared for by someone i barely see rather than the people who raised me #relapsed awfully aggressively when i was months clean and i feel horrible i kept praying for forgiveness. i feel disgusting #mom would it have killed you to just help me #it's been four hours ever since and since then i was distracted by things i had to do but now #then i had to hang the laundry and not having any distractions and being left with my own thoughts made me spiral again #good lord #i just #i wonder if everyone else feels like dying every day like me. she always says that she struggled too and that she stayed up late manytimes #and i know she had it difficult too but our lives have been so different that our childhoods simply can never be compared and i want to #scream and destroy everything but i cant so i can only destroy my own body and im so helpless idk what to do #tw: mental health #i feel so spiteful and i want to show her everything and scream that she did this to me and that it's all her fault #but i love her too much to hurt her like that. it would kill her.#and ig it's all my fault for being a horrible being and for being a failure and turning out ill like this. i just dont know anymore #i think i had an episode of psychotic rage again. everywhere hurts but i still cant get the ugly feeling in me go away

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your-internet-bf · 8 months ago

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It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

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scatteredraysofhope · 2 months ago

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@strawberryfaced I just thought you might also relate^^

This is going to sound so out of the blue but can I just say thank GOD for sweet retail workers??

Like I've had a particularly bad week Horrors wise, the anxiety is literally crushing my chest, and so I couldn't make myself go to college and have like, y'know, as much social interaction as I normally would with friends and stuff.

But the interactions I did have were with the food deliverymen and the retail workers at IKEA and I know it's like a three second interaction at most but when they smiled at me after answering my question or they had a kind voice or they just exchanged a few casual words it fucking MADE my day.

I've seen people talk about how important those less intense interactions with strangers are for mental health and stuff but I really really felt it this week.

Just, man. I've had a lot of lovely and chaotic interactions with retail workers before and those are fun stories for another time but just, even those casual smiles or a gentle tone when helping out, it means so much. And maybe sometimes it's for the job, but even then, it still heals me, just a bit.

And it must be really difficult when so many customers are shitty and the pay is next to nothing and you're treated so poorly, and I wouldn't blame every single retail worker for being extremely on edge and disillusioned, but somehow, sometimes, you manage to find it in you to have a gentle voice and a genuine smile or laugh and just know how grateful I am for y'all. It's like crawling out of my mind expecting the world to be hell but then someone is unexpectedly kind and it's so healing.

So, um, this has been very rambly and I'm not entirely sure I made sense, but thank you. Thank you for existing.

#this is so relatable #likeee they didn't have to do that but they did anyway :')#like i never know how to act in public spaces and just feel like a freak so when someone is just randomly nice for no reason its like #what do you mean you dont inherently see me as the incompetent disaster human being that doesn't deserve to exist!? 😭😭🥹#also random exchange with people on the bus like everyone's squished and uncomfortable but people still help give eachother's tickets #and give thir seats to ajjis and smile at babies staring at them #and offer to hold eachother's bags #once i was drawing on the bus because i didn't finish my daily sketches and i felt like suck a freak because i was squinting at people #while scribbing out messing drawing and i could feel the eyes of some collage girl staring from behind #bust then when they were just about to leave they tapped my shoulder and exclaimed “thats so cool” at my drawin #iand ive been thinking about it ever since :') its also intresting when there are language barriers like i cant speak kannada that well #amd they can barely understand english but a surpriing wmount can be communicated just by smiles snd facial expressions and gestures #im not so good at talking a lot of the time so it just really warms my heart that people who don't even know you #are willing to take the time out of their own lives so care a little :') maybe society isn't so bad

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bi-writes · 27 days ago

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Thinking about going into labor while your partner is on the way somewhere unimportant, who refuses to come home to help you. And instead of being alone and scared, you hang up and call up one of your childhood friends everyone thought you'd wind up with. Kyle shows up at your door, furious but does his best to hide it, and helps you through it all. Next day the father of your child has the audacity to show up like nothing is wrong to see Kyle holding your baby so you can take a well deserved nap.

he picks up on the third ring. you tremble, gripping the edge of the porcelain tub. when you finally hear his voice, just the sound of him soothes your beating heart, just a little.

"'ello, love."

"kyle?" you sniffle. his background quiets a bit. you hear a door close, and then he's a bit louder.

"hey, love. what's wrong? you sound upset."

"my water broke," you hiccup. "a-and i...i was in the bath...i-i..." you close your eyes. "i can't get out of the tub."

"jesus fucking christ." you whimper, but kyle just hums. "not you, baby. hey, you just relax, alright? you said you were in the bath. just relax, and i'll be there soon."

"kyle--"

"don't be scared," kyle chuckles, and you whine a little. "hey, you're gonna have a baby. you've been waiting for this, yeah? haven't you?"

"y-yeah..."

"aren't you excited? you always tell me how much you can't wait, right?"

"yeah..."

"don't be scared," kyle repeats. "you just relax. be happy. she's coming today!"

you smile, wiping your face a little, and when kyle hears your giggle, he sighs.

"good girl. you sit tight."

so you do. you lean against the side of the tub, and you rest in the warm water as you stare at your phone screen.

he won't answer the phone. he hasn't read your texts. he's not coming.

you hear the front door open and close, and then there's a gentle knock on the bathroom door. when kyle comes in, you try to cover up, moving your hands over your tits, embarrassed, but kyle just goes to look for a clean towel to help you out.

"it's okay, love, i won't look," kyle tells you. he smiles at you, cupping your face gently, and you look into his dark eyes. "you look so pretty. you're glowin', y'know that?" you smile through gentle tears, putting a hand over your belly, and you try to move, but it's no use. kyle drops the towel, kneeling, and you shake your head.

"i-i can't get out--" you gasp, and kyle rolls up his sleeves over his thick forearms, putting the towel over his shoulder before he reaches for you.

"it's alright. i'll get you out. i'll try not to look, okay?"

"i'm so embarrassed...i'm so sorry, kyle..." you sniffle.

"don't apologize, love. i got it. give me your hands, put 'em around me."

you lift up your wet arms, wrapping them around his neck. you press your chest against his, and he picks you up as you stand, helping you to your feet. as you cup your belly, he wraps the towel around you, covering you, and then he holds your hand as you step out of the tub.

"alright. now where's your bag, darling?"

kyle grabs your bag and supplies as you get dressed in your room. as you pull your socks on, kyle comes up behind you, smoothing your hair down your back before he starts to braid it. he used to braid your hair all the time when you were kids--he always said he wanted to practice for his sisters.

"you got the car seat, kyle?" you ask as he holds your hand, and he nods.

"mhm. in the car already."

"a-and the diaper bag?"

"in the boot."

"my extra clothes? and my...my stuff?"

"mhm. i got it, love. and whatever you forgot, i'll get it for you. alright, up, buckle in, that's a girl."

he holds your hand the entire way. you groan softly when a particularly painful contraction hits you, but when you squeeze kyle's hand, all he does is squeeze back. you take deep breaths, leaning your head back, and he hums.

"you're doing so well, love. so well."

"why..." your eyes water. you squeeze his hand again, and when you look down, your vision is blurry from your tears. "why didn't he answer? w-why...why doesn't he...w-why would he..."

"don't worry your pretty head about tha', love," kyle interrupts you gently. "only thing you need to worry about is you and her. i got it."

"o-okay."

she's beautiful. she looks more like you than her father, and kyle counts that blessing. she's got your eyes, your nose, your hair. her cheeks belong to her father, but she might as well be your twin, and when kyle takes her from you later that night, rocking her gently, he can really see up close how much she looks like you.

in the middle of the night, kyle holds your hand as you get up to go to the bathroom. your entire body is tender and sluggish, but kyle keeps you upright as you walk, kissing your head gently as he helps you take a seat on the toilet.

he even gets your underwear set up for you, with the big pad and everything, and he helps you step into it and slips them up and over your hips. you're a tearful mess as he does this, but kyle just presses his forehead against yours.

the look in his eyes, you will never forget it. the intensity. the commitment. the stability. every time you pick up the phone, kyle answers, and sometimes he's thousands of miles away. your own boyfriend can't even have the decency to answer when you're nine months pregnant--what did he fucking think the call was going to be about?

back in your room, kyle fits into the bed with you. he lets your rest your head on his chest, and when you ask him if he's going to go home, he tells you this is close enough.

in the morning, kyle's sitting outside your room with the baby. he's holding her, touching her little nose, letting you sleep in. you had a rough night, and when he found you still with your eyes closed that morning, he figured he would let you keep sleeping, just for an extra hour or so.

you deserve it.

"is that her?"

kyle's head turns with a snap. standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, is your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. not man enough to answer the phone when you most needed him, not strong enough to do the right thing and marry you, and not wise enough to realize all he had to do was take care of you, and the world would be right again. you're not greedy. you don't ask for anything. all you want is to love and be loved, and kyle doesn't think that's too much to ask for, kyle thinks you're one of the most selfless women he's ever known, so why does this fucking bastard of a man get to call himself this girl's father?

kyle looks back down, fixing the blanket over your daughter's neck carefully. he thinks he did pretty good swaddling her this time, but you might have an opinion on it.

"i'm gonna say somethin', mate," kyle says lowly. "'n after i say it, y'r gonna do some thinking, real thinking."

he laughs a little, shaking his head.

"why don't you give me my baby, and get the fuck outta 'ere?"

kyle looks up and snickers, shaking his head. he gets a better grip on your daughter, sitting back, and he fixes your ex with a sinister smile.

"and what if i don't? you gonna take her from me?" kyle chuckles. "i'd love to see you try."

he stands, raising a brow.

"listen here, and listen close." kyle takes a step closer to him. "you're a right pile of shit comin' here thinking that you can just waltz right in and be daddy of the year, alright? what kind of man are you, eh? your girl in need, callin' you, and you don't even have the fuckin' balls to answer her? take a good look at your kid, mate, cause it's the last time you're ever gonna see her."

"no, i have the right--"

"to fuck right off," kyle snaps. "if i see you near her or her daughter ever again, i'll find you, and i'll make it worth your while, mate. make you feel real sorry finally, y'hear me? 'n when i take her back home, all of your junk better be out the flat. otherwise, i'll fucking burn it."

"kyle?"

your voice pulls him away. kyle adjusts the baby in his arm, going back inside, and he shuts the door behind him, finding your eyes. you reach for the baby, arms outstretched, and kyle easily sets her down in them, watching as you cradle the tiny thing into the crook of your neck and stroke the back of her neck.

the nurses come in and drop off a few papers. one stops, looking at kyle, giving him a big smile.

"congratulations," she tells him, and he smiles back at her. she takes a seat next to him, holding out a clipboard. "do you think i could get a few details? i just need to know mum's name, baby's name--"

kyle gives it to her. your birthplace. your birthday. your name. your baby's name. then she flips a paper over, putting her pen down.

"and dad's name?" she asks.

kyle sighs, leaning back in his chair. they don't give out birth certificates right away. you have to request it. you won't find out, not just yet, maybe he'll even pick it up for you. you'll be much too busy being mummy dearest.

"kyle," he tells her, flashing her that big smile. she blushes a little, writing it down. "kyle garrick."

he looks back at where you are, your eyes on him. you smile shyly when your eyes meet, and kyle leaves the nurse to come up to you and drape a hand behind your head. he strokes along your hair gently, thumbing at your temple.

"i heard you outside, kyle."

"did you?"

"and i heard you just now."

"mm."

you blink, reaching for the edge of his shirt, and you pull him down, further, until his face is nearly against yours.

"i guess i shouldn't be surprised," you say softly, reaching up to smooth a a few knuckles down his cheek. he leans into it, licking his lips, and you bite your lip. "you've always had a habit of...taking what doesn't belong to you, huh?"

kyle laughs. always the pretty boy, ever since you were little. one smile from him--kyle could get away with anything. anything at all.

"who says you don't belong to me?"

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #kyle thoughts

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hoshigray · 9 months ago

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This is my first time requesting something but HEAR ME OUT, "Slow Cuddle-fucking with og Sukuna while he is holding (and caressing) Reader (His wife) tightly and praising her (with him having size(difference) and breeding kink) oneshot please please please PLEASESSS😭

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: NAH CUZ I SEE THE VISION, HOLD ON–

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: true form! Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size difference - monster-fucking (he got 2 dicks, y'all) - double penetration; anal and vaginal - spooning dp position - breast fondling + nipple play - breeding kink - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - dacryphilia - pet names ([little]dove, good girl, my wife, woman) - soft! kuna, but not too OOC - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k

“Stay still, woman…Mmnnn, good girl, nice and easy…”

It’s not a rarity for Sukuna to have his hands on you as you two slept through the night. After all, he is the King of Curses; asking permission to touch his is beneath him. You were made for him to hold – sculpted for his cursed hands to touch – everyone else was far behind or had no standing compared to your demonic husband. And with you both sharing a futon every night, who’s supposed to tell him to keep his hands to himself?

You, his little spouse, knew of this. Marrying the King of Curses was something you never imagined would happen — let alone falling in love with the giant man! You’ve always had dreams of becoming a sweet little partner to someone; for that to be fulfilled by the cursed man who could kill thousands in the blink of an eye is astounding.

And, of course, being a wife entails all the duties accompanying the package. Especially now, as you two lie together on the floor, nude bodies nestled close on the futon above the tatami floor, and your naked figure trembling from the insertion of one of Sukuna’s paired cock. And your heart drops at the second one brushing up against the crevice of your ass when he pushes the one inside your throbbing, velvety channel.

“Mmmph…! Sukuna, no,” you whined, your butt inching away from the second member. “I can’t handle both—“

“Don’t lie; you’ve done it before and did it well,” a hand brings your waist to him. “Or maybe I should just have one of the concubines take care of me, seeing as though my own wife is neglecting their duties.”

He wouldn’t do that; Sukuna’s interest in his insignificant mistresses had long been diminished once he took you up as his bride, practically collecting dust as he hadn’t visited them since you shared a bed with him. Now, he uses them as tools to probe you. And he has to hold back the mischievous snicker when your eyes widen with anxiousness, wrapping your arms around his neck in desperation.

“N–No, please!” You pleaded; it was the only sufficient approach. “I’ll be good to you, I promise!”

The four-eyed curse scoffs. “Then do what you’re supposed to,” Each crimson orb takes in information about your bashful expression, “And attend to your husband like a wife should.”

Further complaints cease at his command, so you quiet down and arch your behind to him submissively. Sukuna takes your initiation with his hungry bottom hand on your ass, squeezing the flesh as you guide his other dick to your lubed asshole. With a hum, he pushes himself and forces you to take his cocks with your bottom, needing a few seconds to breathe when your holes reach the base of his members.

“Good girl,” he says to your ear to make you shudder, and he lifts your leg with the hand that finished groping your asscheek. “Obeying me so well like always…”

He begins to move without a signal, slowly pulling himself in and out of your warm wetness that coats his length with your slick. You can’t help but grip the girth limbs that massage your insides, involuntarily throbbing on them with shaky breaths.

“Mmmaah, ohhhmyG—Mmm!” Speech isn’t easy, even with his upper left hand cupping your cheeks. And your brows furrow as the upper right sneaks to grope a breast. “Faaahh, Suk..una, I’m too full already…”

“Mmm? Is that so?” Sukuna asks with a patronizing tone, licking the helix of your ear to hear you gasp. “But we’ve barely started yet, my wife. Don’t bore me before I can enjoy you yet.”

His hips go at a gradual cadence that has you keening a mess, the sensation of the veins of his cocks felt by the walls of your holes. You howl silently, not wanting to make too much noise.

But that doesn’t fly with your husband, speaking to your ear with that hoarse voice. Almost has you melting as he squishes with your cheeks, “Let it out, princess,” he commands. “I want to hear that voice; don’t you dare hide that from me.”

Fuck, the way you felt on his dicks was so fucking good, having the cursed behemoth burrow his face into the cubby of your neck. Slow kisses on your skin segway to sucks that should mark for later. He could never get enough of how small you were up against him. His giant palm swallowed your tit, your ass bouncing with every thrust, and how damn tight you were as you accommodated the two members making your entrances busy.

Goddamn it, he bites his lip, dialing up the speed of his ruts a bit. Scratching your inner walls has you squeaking louder, unable to stop yourself when he grinds his hips after a sudden grim pound. So warm and snug for him as if you were meant for him. He knew you were meant for him — taking his huge, fat shafts with no objections, just arching your back further so the sensation could be more pleasurable like the loyal, little pet you are. “Hmngh…! Yeah, just like that, little dove; keep clenching around me like that…”

Restraint was gone long ago, letting your voice and shrieks fly out and fill the quiet bedroom. The sound of his skin shaking against your ass, the heat of your cheeks making it hard to think, and the shivers crawling your spine with every graze to your sweet spots. Everything feels like a haze, your brain too clouded to think outside this moment.

And then you sense the hand on your breast let go, slithering down to your unattended clitoris, which has your eyes shoot wide as your demon husband presses down. “—Khhff! Nooo, ‘Kunaa, you mustn’t…!”

He lifts a brow with a grin; you dare question him? “And why shouldn’t I?” He pinches the delicate bud, resulting in a scream sneaking past your lips. “Hmm? Plead for yourself.”

“Becau—Ahhh! Mmmm, I’ll cum. I’m gonna cumm…”

“Then don’t,” Sukuna doesn’t remove his digits playing with your clit, and the hand on your chin pulls your face to look at him. “Cum without my permission, and I’ll make sure to not be so kind next time...” His words carry a warning filling your bones with apprehension, yet his soft lips greet yours and he hums into your mouth. The kiss serves as a distraction from his thick digits gently swiping on the pearl.

The rhythm of his hips, however, increases in speed and prompts more moans to be taken by Sukuna. Drool trickles down your lips, same with tears that welled up earlier from the insertion of his girth inside your ass. Your eyes roll at the jab to your silky walls, breaking the sweet yet passionate kiss to cry out as your husband’s fat balls smack your ass.

“—Ooooo, fuuuck, I can’t,” your eyelids shield your vision, using the rest of your senses to indulge in this euphoric pleasure. “‘Kuna, I’m so close, so—Ooohh!”

“Me too…Ghhh! Shit, me too…” Sukuna presses his hot face to yours when you throw it back, licking the tears off your sweaty skin. You looked so stunning like this, all disheveled and immodest because of him. “Gonna take my load, huh?” He licks the sweat off your shoulder and bites when you don’t respond. “Answer me, Y/n.”

“—Ahhh, yes!”

That’s not enough. “I said,” he pinches your clit again as he gives slow yet rough ruts to your holes. And he can tell by your twitching that you’re doing everything in our power not to come. “Answer me.”

Holy shit, this was borderline torture. “Mmmph! OhhhLord, ‘Kunaaa, I want you to fill me up. Pleasee, pleasepleaseee, I wanna be full; wanna be all ‘round and fat with your child…!”

“Keh, dumb pet; who said I wanted a brat, huh?” He scoffs, yet you can hear the groan as he licks and sucks on your neck while squishing your hot, tear-stricken cheeks. “Fine then; go on and cum with me. So damn needy for my seed…”

Sukuna brings your chin for another steamy kiss, his lower left hand holding yours as his pelvis goes at an irregular pace. Your muffled shrills are taken by feisty lips, teeth clashing with his fangs before sucking on his tongue, and the upper left hand releases your chin to caress your chest once more, tweezing the nipple along with swipes to your clit.

Release gradually creeps up your shaky frame, crying to his mouth when your chasm and anus pucker around the lengths that graze your walls with the tips. Sukuna is not too far behind you, pumping his load into you with a few harsh plunges, making your contracting cunt and rear full of his hot and thick semen. The lower right hand propping your leg up leaves soft kneads on your inner thigh, hoisting it up further so his shafts are deep enough until his pulsing balls meet your ass.

You withdrew from his lips to breathe, your figure quivering through the aftershocks, and your slit and asshole still flutter around his girths. And you mewl when he kisses your cheek and temple.

“Mmm, that’s my princess,” he purrs while placing your leg down to massage your waist. “Such a good dove…”

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