#sorry i know this is a stupid thing to be pissed about but my god now im so mad lol

[riorgail]

since this is getting so much attention, i want to make my point clear.

my point is—why are we making grown fucking women so childlike and weak? why are we not giving them a personality or a backbone?

and also, what’s happening to diversity? why is there a lack of diversity and representation on these fanfics? or even inspo/aesthetics pics

anyways, i wrote some stuff down from what people replied to make my point as clear as day, so here goes nothing

(you might notice how i mostly talk about an mmc x fem!reader and that’s because those are most of the tags i read. but i’ve been told that it also happens in wlw fics)

a lot of people told me about tagging. they told me that i didn’t have to choose those tags or that i could just ignore the fics people post with the tags i don’t like. you see, the problem is that a lot of the authors who write the stuff im talking about in my post don’t usually use the correct tags. when i say that i have tried to ignore the fics with things that i didn’t like but it got so repetitive that i had to speak about it, trust me. im anything but interested in the “bimbo!reader” or “trophywife!reader” tags i talked about in my original post.

someone mentioned in my comments that tumblr is supposed to be a “safe space” and that they don’t like negativity, but it’s hard to stay positive when “x reader” fanfics are starting to become anything but “x reader.” and also, let’s be real, fandoms/tumblr are never going to be a 100% safe space.

this same person said, and i quote, “I hope everyone is doing okay and learns that things that aren't actually hurting people can coexist with the fact that some people just don't like it.” sorry to break it to you, but this problem does hurt people. for example, women of color, including me. i wrote this post because i started to feel like i wasn’t being represented in fics that SHOULD make me feel represented. and im sure that a lot of women of color or women that don’t want to be seen as dumb or stupid can agree.

can someone please tell me when we started normalizing objectification? a user replied on my original post complaining about the “bimbo!reader” tag and they basically said that the reader gets reduced to this pink and stupid girl that just gets fucked and that’s the whole point of the fic. honestly, i couldn’t agree more. why are we making the reader dumb and stupid? why is the whole point of most fanfics with that bimbo!reader tag to get fucked by whatever character you’re reading about? it pisses me off that most “mmc x reader” fanfics make the reader (that is a woman, like, 93% of the time) submit and allow to be treated like an object. another user also said that fandom is a tool of patriarchy and i couldn’t agree more at this point.

also, i’m sorry, but i don’t give a FUCK if “objectification” or kinks where a woman gets constantly put down—by, specifically, a man—is your kink. it’s not empowering. you’re reading about a woman being narrowed down into a fuck toy and completely disregarding everything else. and trust me when i say that i used to be into this stuff until i realized how smut/porn addicted i was and how this type of kink just shames women and narrows them down to pocket pussies. i don’t know what radicalized me but yeah.

i know people can write and post whatever they want, but it gets to a point. and that point is when you completely disregard the years of work it took for women to be treated as anything but objects. and some may say “it’s not that deep,” but trust me, it is. with the state of the world and the very clear recession there’s going on, it IS that fucking deep. and if you can’t see how media/pop culture and the current state of the world influence each other, then research. for the love of god, please research it.

i’m pretty sure that’s the end of this post, but i just wanted to make shit clear because i didn’t in my original post (my bad sorry). all love to anyone that reads this.

if anyone wants to talk about this with me, just send me a message through my anon request thingy.

why do i keep seeing “young!ditzy!reader” or “trophywife!reader” or stupid shit like that where authors make the ‘reader’ the most fragile person in the world??

at the end of the day, this recession theory shit is real. and it is seen clearly as day on this app.

why are the inspo pics for the oneshot just blonde and skinny white girls?? why are we making the reader sweet and innocent and fragile??

and look, there’s nothing wrong about being a blonde and skinny white girl, but after seeing the same pictures as inspo for a series or a oneshot, it gets annoying and repetitive how there’s no diversity.

also, i’m not saying every post in the “x reader” tag is like this, but they just keep popping up on my feed and i had to speak my mind about it.

please, if anyone reads this, tell me if you found the same problem or i’m just going crazy.

[silens-oro]

Well Enough Alone: Part V WIP Wednesday

Not all fics have adult content, but this blog is 18+. Andrew "Pope" Cody x f!Reader (nicknamed Hawk) Prologue Cut the Loss (companion piece) Part I Part II Chicken Hawk (companion piece) Part III Part IV

Masterlist Pope Cody Playlist

AN: Here is a snippet from the next chapter because I looooooooove you. if you hear a witchy cackle in the dead of night, just know that's me writing this goddamn fic.

“So this was Hawk’s idea?” Pope asked Smurf. He knew it wasn’t, he wasn't stupid. As much as he wanted to fully blame Hawk out of pure frustration because of a very stupid decision she made at the behest of his mother, Pope knew this wasn’t something she’d go into willingly. Smurf nodded, playing dumb. 

Pope knew his mother was twisted, and he'd never put it past her to throw Hawk under the bus and reverse over her, but to hear the lies spewing from her mouth only further enraged Pope. Smurf sighed and wiped her hands on a kitchen towel before leaning on the island to give him her attention. 

“She came to me, baby. Told me she was nervous about having you in the house. I merely recommended getting you back on a dose to even things out while you adjusted to life outside of prison. You know how she is, a heart of gold with skewed intentions. Has been her whole life." She explained softly. "Didn’t want to make a big deal about it, and I knew it was in your best interest, so I gave her one of your old prescriptions.” Smurf said as if this was his lesson to learn. Why was she doing this? Smurf practically pushed him in Hawk's direct the second he stepped foot in the house after his release. Pope didn't like knowing something was going on, but not knowing what it was. "A lapse in judgement on my part."

“I was arrested this morning because I failed my piss test. I was held in South Bay for five hours before they released me, and thank God I was released because it’s a mandatory year sentence for breaking parole, Smurf. I was let off on a warning.” Pope hissed at her, nearing his breaking point.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. I figured she’d talk to you about it, but it looks like she didn't and you've paid the price for her mistake. Guess you never really know a person, huh?” Smurf rounded the corner and tried to reach out to him so she could pull Pope into a hug, but he stopped her, picking up the bottle and throwing it past her head -just missing her by a hair. It hit a row of glasses she had on one of the many shelves lining the kitchen and the shelf shattered behind her, raining glass in a massive clash as everything tumbled down. Smurf stood there in shock, wide eyes never leaving her eldest son.

[christopherisfoive]

Can I order a Lee Know #3 and #14 please 😋🙏

Request complete, love 🫶 Thank you so much for sending this in. I really enjoyed writing it and hope you like it too 💛 Feel free to send more anytime!

૮₍´˶• . • ⑅ ₎ა

You and Lee Know are two of the top dancers in your program. You’re also sworn nemeses. Kind of.

He thinks you take things too personally. You think he talks like he’s trying to win an Oscar for Most Punchable Face.

Unfortunately for both of you, your professor has just announced that the final project is a duet—and you’re paired together. Of course.

“Try not to kill each other,” she says, handing out choreography assignments.

Minho glances at you with a smile that barely hides his smugness. “I make no promises.”

The routine is modern. Sharp. Complicated.

Of course it includes a spin catch—a move that requires one partner to drop backward mid-spin while the other catches them clean and close.

You hate it. Not because it’s hard, but because it means being this close to Minho’s stupid, annoyingly perfect face.

You’re two weeks into practice, and the tension has only gotten worse.

Everything about him pisses you off.

The way he corrects you under his breath.

The way he makes unnecessary noises after sticking a landing.

The way he sometimes mutters "sweetheart" when you mess up—which is rare, but not rare enough.

And then one night, it happens.

t’s late. You’re both exhausted. The studio is empty, lit only by a few overhead strips. The music starts again. You take your spots.

The steps fly by until the final combo. The spin. The dip. The catch.

Only this time, your balance falters. Your foot slips. And instead of landing in a clean hold—

Your lips slam right into his.

Full-on. Firm. Real.

Your eyes go wide. His mouth is still against yours. For one awful, breathless second, neither of you moves.

You pull away like you’ve been shocked.

“That was—”

“Disgusting,” he says flatly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

Minho shrugs. “I’ve kissed walls with more chemistry.”

“Oh, please,” you scoff. “You leaned into it.”

He gasps—mockingly, dramatically. “I did not. You basically tripped over your own ego and face-planted onto my mouth.”

You throw your towel at him. “You're such an ass.”

“And yet you keep aiming your face at mine. Weird.”

“There won’t be a next time!”

“You said that yesterday. And here we are. Round two of you trying to turn dance practice into a rom-com.”

You storm out. But the next day, when you meet at the studio again, he’s already there, spinning in the mirror like the kiss didn’t even register—like you weren’t up half the night replaying it and cringing into your pillow.

“Try not to fall on me this time,” Minho says as you stretch.

“Try not to make that face that makes me want to punch you,” you shoot back.

“Oh? Which one? My natural face?”

“Yes.”

He smirks. “You’re lucky I’m cute.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t broken your nose.”

The music starts. You both move through the routine. It’s sharp. Aggressive. You’re both clearly pissed but too stubborn to talk about it.

Midway through the dip, Minho mutters, “You’re clenching again.”

“I wonder why.”

“I don’t know, maybe because you can’t stop thinking about how kissable I am.”

You yank away from him and shove him lightly. “You wish.”

“Oh, I don’t need to wish. You made out with me, remember?”

“You are the worst thing to ever happen to dance.”

He bows. “Thank you. I work hard.”

Two hours in. Your fuse has burned to ash.

“Seriously, can you stop breathing like that?” you snap as he pants dramatically through another run-through.

“I’m sorry, am I too alive for your delicate sensibilities?”

“You’re too something.”

“Too irresistible?”

You whirl on him. “Too insufferable.”

He raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t kiss me about it.”

“Oh my god, you’re impossible!”

“And you’re obsessed,” he fires back.

That’s it. You grab him by the collar and kiss him—again—just to shut him up.

It’s messy and fast and fueled by rage. When you break away, both of you are breathless.

He wipes his mouth again. “Ugh. Still gross.”

You glare. “Then stop kissing me back.”

He smirks. “Make me.”

You grab him again—right as the door creaks open.

A voice echoes from the entrance: “Um. What the hell?”

You both freeze.

Standing in the doorway is your classmate, Jisung, wide-eyed and holding a smoothie like it’s a weapon.

“I was just��uh—I thought the room was empty. But clearly you two are, like, eating each other’s faces, so I’ll just… yeah.” He backs out slowly, still staring. “I—wow. Okay.”

Minho immediately pulls away, expression unreadable. You both scramble like you’d just been caught doing something illegal.

“Nothing happened,” you blurt.

Jisung raises an eyebrow. “Sure. I always walk in on people ‘not kissing.’”

“It was—” Minho straightens his shirt. “A mistake.”

You nod too fast. “Practice. We were… practicing. For the dip. Or the fall. The fall part.”

Jisung’s expression doesn’t change.

“I didn’t see anything,” he says, backing out slowly. “Except two people who are obviously in denial.”

Minho turns to you. “Great. Now we have to live with that.”

You groan. “I hate you.”

He smirks. “You kissed me.”

“Out of pity.”

“Yeah,” he says, heading for his bag, “looked real pitiful.”

You throw your towel at his head. Again.

He catches it. Again.

The next few practices are weird.

Not loud, not confrontational—just quiet. Unspoken. The air always feels heavy.

You still argue. He still gets on your nerves. But now, every brush of his hand feels deliberate. Every glance lingers a beat too long.

There’s a moment after one run-through, when you’re both catching your breath on the floor, not looking at each other. Not speaking.

And then he says, low and out of nowhere, “So... how pitiful was it, really?”

You glare at the ceiling. “You’re still thinking about that?”

“Don’t act like you’re not.”

You turn your head. He’s already watching you.

You roll your eyes. “Drop it.”

He grins, that sharp, stupid grin. “You’re a terrible liar.”

You grab your water bottle and chuck it at him. He doesn’t flinch.

But when he tosses it back—soft, precise—you catch it without a word.

And for the first time, neither of you has a comeback.

[queenerdloser]

just found out that jodi picoult wrote a historical fiction book claiming that shakespeare's plays were written by a random noblewoman and not to be a bitch but by god people are so goddamn stupid. like literally her whole argument is "well shakespeare never taught his daughters to read and write and such a SEXIST could NEVER write such STRONG FEMALE CHARACTERS so obvs it was a woman" and literally every review i've seen is going "wow ive never thought about it like that before this should be taught in schools so glad she's exposing the truth !!!!"

i'm sorry. but yes, there are sexist male authors who write good female characters. i'm sorry. but you saying "well a dumb peasant man who never got a Real Education could NEVER write so well and beautifully so OBVIOUSLY it must have been a well-educated woman instead" is not the zinger feminism you want it to be but just straight up classist bullshit nonsense. dressing it up in feminist rhetoric doesn't erase that it's the same biased insanity that has made so many people yearn to find any "noble" "educated" person they can attribute these plays to instead of a tradesman's son. i'm sorry. but when your argument boils down to: 1) shakespeare wasn't educated enough to write so well 2) shakespeare didn't travel to the places he wrote about so how could he have written them so accurately? and 3) shakespeare was sexist so how could he have written good female characters? i'm not going to take you seriously. i mean i already didn't take jodi picoult very seriously but jesus christ almighty in heaven.

it's also mind-boggling the like. complete lack of critical thinking done by anyone reading this book?????? idk i just skimmed goodreads reviews so i hope (and pray) that there is a much more nuanced critical reception out there, but my god the amount of people going "4/5 stars, wow i never realized shakespeare was a woman, down with men, this should be taught in schools, thanks jodi for educating me!!!!" i am shaking them by their shoulders. she's not a historian. she read one (1) book that made this claim, decided for herself that shakespeare's sexism excluded him, and write a fucking historical fiction novel to shoehorn in her random theories. why. are you taking this fiction novel as gospel. why are you calling it well researched!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i am gnawing and biting!!!!!!!!!!!!

i don't think it's out of the realm of possibility that we could be wrong about shakespeare. i think it's worth talking about how collaborative he likely was with writing his plays especially. but people HAVE talked about that. they HAVE thoroughly researched it. they HAVE debunked (more than once) the multiple theories of who shakespeare "really" is. and i get wanting to have more visibility on historical female authors but jesus christ this noblewoman DID write things under her own name, so why don't you celebrate her for that authorship instead of trying to make her fit your own theories????

edit: read a sane 1 star review so my faith in humanity is restored. but i'm still mad lol.

[moonlit-orchid]

good evening to everyone except a certain few fucking anons

[gu6chan]

i fucking hate american """left-wingers""" man

[inbabylontheywept]

bad dating stories time: the shoe incident

so in highschool, my best friend wasnt allowed to go on dates unless there was another couple there to keep an eye on him. part of this was his parents being insane, but also, part of it was him being insane. in a problem with no reasonable parties, there are no reasonable solutions.

at some point in my junior year, my sorta-gf broke up with me, and i just wasnt feeling dating, which was bad for my friend, because he had a good thing going with a girl he met in court.

he kind of hounded me about it. kept pushing me to just put me feet back in the dating pool and i wasnt real thrilled about it, because i knew he was pushing me for his own benefit, not mine, so i kept telling him to fuck off, and after a few weeks of being told that i would date when i was damn well ready, he eventually said: okay. what if i paid for the date AND found you a blind date AND all you had to do was show up?

and i shouldve said no, i know, but i let him wear me down, and i will own my fault in that. a date starting on such a stupid premise could never have gone well.

but he still managed to find a way to make it worse.

i dont know how long he tried to set a blind date up. it couldve been multiple attempts. he couldve stooped to this immediately. but what happened in the end was that he called a girl from the ward he attended - a girl that he knew had a giant, mushy crush on him - and he said: hey! how would you feel about going on a date this weekend?

(you know, implying it was with him, but never actually saying it.)

and she said YES WOW I WOULD LOVE TO and he said great! and then he called me up and said he found me a date.

i did not learn about his crimes until several weeks later. i will die swearing before god almighty that i would never have allowed this travesty to happen if i had known.

that was on a monday. the date of the date rolled around that friday evening, and im sorry to confess, i really phoned the whole thing in. i showed up in my favorite comfy outfit, which was also a fashion crime: basketball shorts and flipflops and a baja hoodie. it was super comfy but it made me look kind of crazy. i picked him up first, and then i picked up his date next, and then we went to pick up my date, and thats where you're gonna get the play by play.

i arrived, walked across the yard, and knocked on the front door. she opened it almost immediately, like shed been waiting right by it, and i could see her expression go from OMG IM SO EXCITED to super disappointed, then disgusted and finally pissed. and because i didn't know about my friends sins, i thought it was from my outfit. which seemed... harsh. like, hey, im allowed to be quirky, fuck you. also its a blind date, i thought the deal was that we were both going to be sad broken sacks of mortality.

anyway, we looked at each other for several seconds before she slammed the door in my face.

i looked back at my friend. he was sweating bullets. i dont know what he expected from this, but there was this big long pause where we both tried to figure out what to do, and then the door opened up, and her dad invited me in, and he said she was gonna need a few minutes to finish getting ready, and that in the meantime we could sit and talk.

we did not talk. we did sit. i sat down on the couch, and he sat down in a chair across the couch, and then instead of talking he cleaned his pistol on the coffee table. i wasnt actually sure if it was a threat, or if it was just a fidget thing for 40+ year old republican men, but when i tried to help he got snappy so i just watched him put a pistol back together.

he was okay at it.

eventually my date came downstairs, still mad as hell for reasons beyond my ken, and i felt pretty guilty for being such a mess because i thought that was why she was so angry. i tried to make up for by walking her to the car and getting the door for her, just generally trying to be extra polite, but before i could make it back to the drivers side, her dad called me back to the door. so i flipped around, went to the door, and immediately regreted my decision.

soon as i was within range, her dad got waaaay too close to me, leaned in, and said "whatever you do to her, i will do to you," and my brain went into overdrive making three consecutive realizations.

realization one was, damn, the pistol thing was a threat. that sucks. what an asshole. realization two was, wait, im autistic and even i know theres a 0% chance me and my date even hold hands, least of all boink. does this guy actually think there's even a 1% chance of anyone in that car getting laid tonight? is he an idiot? and then realization three went through, which was wait, is this guy threatening to fuck me? and unfortunately, with my brain doing so much processing, my mouth was left to run amok, so somewhere between realization 2 and 3, i said:

"i can't get pregnant"

which, i swear, wasn't actually me trying to be a smartass, it was just me pointing out that he couldn't actually follow up on that threat. it just wasn't possible. we do not live in the omegaverse and im not scared of you.

still, it was an insanely catastrophic thing to say, and the moment we both heard it, we bluescreened. that single sentence obliterated both of our momentary streams of consciousness like a saltine in front of a sand blaster. problem was, he'd probably gone his whole life not even realizing someone could say something that stupid, and making that realization was going to cost him a lot of thinking time. me though? i had been saying shit like that for 17 years, i didnt have to rewrite my expectations of human nature, i just had to plan an exit and start striding. so i was already halfway back to the car before i heard "hey. hey come back. Hey. Hey. HEY. HEY WAIT. HEY GET BACK HERE. HEY-"

and then i was in my car, and i drove away.

if this happened today, he'd have called her, and the whole thing wouldve imploded then and there, but back then, there were still a decent number of teenagers without cell phones. especially the teenagers of insane, gun toting parents. so she just said: whoa what was that all about? and i said: dont worry about it, he'll tell you about it when you get home.

and she said: ok and went back to staring daggers at me and my friend.

WHICH SURPRISINGLY isnt even how the story ends.

we went to an improv comedy show, and it was a disaster. it shouldve been like, 7/10 tops, but between my date being mad, and my friend having a good time, and me having the existential terror of knowing that a guy with a pistol was probably waiting outside his house for me to come back, it was easily 11/10. i laughed way too hard at everything. especially the jokes that flopped. id sit there in this mostly silent room and laugh until i dry heaved a little, and my date was absolutely disgusted, and even my friend was a little embarrassed, which would just make me laugh harder. i laughed so hard that night i could barely talk the next day. and then the show ended, and my friend said, you know, that was a good time, but i think we should maybe do something a little chiller? who wants to walk around the park? and his date said yeah, and my date said no, and i finally had mercy on the poor woman so i said, look, im gonna drop you off. and i am so, so sorry about this, but im dropping you off like a block away. super duper sorry.

do talk to your dad about the pistols thing if you dont want this happening more in the future tho.

and she said: okay. so i dropped her off, and she walked a block down, and that was that.

then i drove my friend and his date to a park that was good for wandering. i figured they wanted something more private, so instead of following them around point blank, i chose a park with this 30 foot rope tower, and i climbed to the top and i said: hey i can see you anywhere from up here, you are officially chaperoned from a distance. get panopticoned idiot. except my friend really is an idiot, and he didnt really get the whole 'now i dont have to third wheel so insanely hard with you guys' thing so he climbed up the tower too, and then his date followed behind him, so there are three people basically sitting together on top of a telephone pole.

and then they started making out.

i was close enough to hear it.

i didnt really know what to do so i was just kind of sitting there, dissociating, when some college kids came around and started shaking the tower. my friend's date went aaaaaaaaaa im afraid of heights :( and my friend went oh, dont worry, ill hold you tight ;) and i went hey, im gonna climb down and ask them to stop.

so i did climb down, and i did ask them to stop, and they flipped me off, which i wasnt even mad about. at that point i was i was like yeah, it would be weirder if this wasnt a mess. gods plan has been to fly this day like a 747 into my metaphorical twin towers and brother he is close enough for me to see him grinning through the cockpit window. still, eventually the college students got bored, so they climbed up the tower, which gave my friend and his date a window to climb down, and together we walked back to my car.

now, i cant explain why this is, but sitting back in the drivers seat was my carriage-back-into-a-pumpkin moment. i'd been chill about all the chaos, just rolling with the punches, but sitting down made me realize how much of a shitshow the day had been, and while i couldnt go back and fix all of it, i could go back and fix one thing.

so i told my friend and his date, hey, you two, stay here and don't do anything weird. don't. then i walked back to the rope tower, and i started picking up the shoes the college students had left at the base in order to climb.

about halfway through this, i realized that if i took all their shoes, they might think i was in it for the money, and i actually wanted them to know i was in it specifically to spite them. fuck those guys. so i put all the right shoes back, gave myself a 100 foot headstart, yelled "nice shoes, assholes", did a little jig, and started running.

my advice to everyone is that college students are faster than you think. even with the headstart, and the whole climb down the tower thing, i was still only fivish seconds ahead of them by the time i got to my car. i flung the door open, looked in the backseat, didnt see anyone, flung the stolen shoes in the backseat, heard two "ow"s, took that as proof of presence, jumped in and pealed out of the lot.

my friend and his date popped up a few seconds later. they were, uh, doing something weird in the back seat. my one request - obliterated.

they climbed up to ask where the hell all the shoes had come from, and i was like yeah i stole them from the college students, and they were like oh. cool. hope you had fun. and i was like, i did. i did. but speaking of fun, what were you doing back there?

and for the first time in my buddies life, i think he was actually embarassed.

[vanesycho]

Summary:A little warning to your boyfriend who is insecure about his face.

warning:smut, face riding, pussy eating

a/n: @ldh0000 hope you like it luv😔🫶🏻 really obsessed with him🙏🏻

wc:0,9k

"Baby, aren't you ready yet?" Chan spoke as he entered the room and looked at you doing your makeup in front of the mirror, you looked at him in the mirror and spoke "No, I'm sorry this is taking so long." Chan walked over to you and leaned over the mirror, fixed his hair "Wow, today I'm declaring myself the ugliest man in the world." You put down your makeup without reacting to his 'joke' and turned to him, saw that he's smiling at you "How many times do we have to talk about not saying things like that?" He looked at your furrowed eyebrows and chuckled, kissed your cheek "Oh, don't take it seriously honey. It was just a joke. I mean… when I look at myself, well… I'm just exaggerating a bit."

You rolled your eyes and talked more to yourself as you did your makeup "It pisses me off that you don't realize how good you really look. I can't understand all your insecurities." he folded his arms and continued to listen to you as the smile on his face grew "I wonder how you dare to call yourself ugly when your handsome face and amazing body drive me crazy. I could even sit on your face and praise you for hours just to prove how beautiful you are, stupid." He raised his eyebrows questioningly and let out a chuckle, then you realized what you said and turned your head to him and made him laugh.

"Okay I didn't expect this much, to be honest. But I can't say I didn't like it." he leaned towards you and spoke against your lips "Should we cancel today's plans? So you can sit on my face and I won't joke about my looks again." You licked your dry lips, the thought of it making you clench your legs together. "Promise?" He smiled and held out his hand. "I promise." You took his hand and stood up, watching Chan take off his shirt and lie down on the bed. You now realized you were holding your breath and let out a deep breath. Chan, who was looking down at you, bit his lower lip excitedly and patted his lap. "Take off your clothes and come here," he didn't even have to repeat.

Your panties were on the floor in a short while and you were now on his lap, he gripped your hips tightly and let out a deep groan as he pressed you against him. "You look so beautiful." You smiled at the compliment you received. "You should see yourself. God...I have the most beautiful boyfriend." He gave a shy smile and pressed you back against him. "Let me taste you, I can tell how wet you are even through my clothes, fuck." You lifted your hips and moved forward a little more, stopping when you got to his face, Chan placed his hands on your legs and gave your clit a small lick first. When this unexpected move made your hips move away from his face, Chan tightened his grip and made you sit down completely.

His tongue started licking your hole, as you felt his big nose, made you let out a loud moan at the same time. "C-chris..Y-yes- you're so good.." The compliment he received excited Chan instantly and he continued his tongue strokes. Your moans showed that he was doing a good job, and with the confidence that came from it, he took care of your entire pussy. You ran a hand through his hair, begging for more. “Ride my face baby, I know you want it. Make your boyfriend happy by giving him what he wants.” You started to move your hips slowly, Chan’s face was almost completely covered with your juices, you moaned in pleasure as he sent a muffled moan into your pussy. “Please- you’re so good yes keep going- f-fuck I’m so close.” Chan didn’t care if he was out of breath at that moment, he didn’t stop or slow down his movements, what mattered right now was for you to cum on his beautiful face and he wanted it right now. Your moans were now like tears, your hips roamed over his face, Chan’s tongue was enough to destroy your hole. First he licked it all over and then he guided it to your hole and pushed it inside, while he helped you ride his nose where it was right next to your clit. Your hips were still moving to your face, you let your clenched body relax as you finally came. The cum that was dripping from Chan’s chin started to run down his neck. He didn't let you get up, he wanted to clean up every bit of liquid himself.

When he finally loosened his grip on your legs you shifted to the side and looked at him, swallowed as you looked at his face that was still full of your juices. “Fuck, you’re beautiful even when you’re this messed up.” He laughed at your hypnotic tone and looked away from you for a moment. “Thank you baby. Ah..if that’s what I’m going to have to go through every time I’m insecure, I’m okay with that.” You laughed and punched him lightly in the chest. “No, you promised.” He caught the spot you hit and a laugh echoed through the room. Chan leaned in and kissed your head. “I know, I’ll keep my promise…If you sat on my face every time I wanted?” You nodded, he smiled at that. “Good. Come back now, I’m not done with you.”

[reignpage]

It's Like a Reward

You hear clattering and thumping from outside your room. Rolling your eyes, you continue to lounge in bed and scroll on your phone. This whole thing had been such a pain — what was he thinking getting a girlfriend to make you jealous?

Did he seriously think it’d make you cave?

God, he must have lost his mind. Thank goodness he found it. Only because you didn’t like someone else in your space, of course. Totally not because his stupid plan was actually working. You remember the shock you felt walking into your living room to see some girl on top of your roommate in the living room. The ridiculous smile on his face that washed away his usual completely bored look alerted you to the games he was playing immediately. 

Introducing her to you, you could only smile, nod, and get comfortable in the living room. After blah blah blah small talk, a quietness settled over the room and you chose to focus your attention on your book rather than the movie they were playing after they both insisted you stay. You could have chosen to read your book in your room, but some sick part of you — a really, really sick part you don’t want to confront right now— wanted to see where it would go. How far he would go. 

And God did he go far. His long fingers were digging into the thigh she had hooked over his lap. Spare hand pulling her hair back as their lips met in a messy clash, smacking sounds hitting you like sharp notes. She was practically humping his leg and moaning like crazy with little to no regard for you. Touching him all over, they were pressed so tightly one would have thought they were actively trying to fuse their bodies together permanently.

All while he had his eyes on you.

You knew what he was doing so you ignored him. Though you could see them writhing in your peripheral, you never wanted to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to you. Of course you knew one day this would happen, that he'd grow braver and bolder, find new buttons to push, but you never thought it'd be so soon. Still, something about the whole thing didn't piss you off as much as it should have.

She was in his lap but you had him in the palm of your hands.

You were sure that if you had told him to, he would have ripped her clothes off and plunged inside her. He would have bent her into shape, moulded her into a pliable little plaything, rendering her stupid and useless, making a mess on the couch, on the coffee table, by the door, wherever you goddamn wanted him to. He would have done as you asked with a snap of your fingers because he's Choso and you're you.

A frantic knock jolts you from your thoughts. 

He’s finally here. 

You’d forgotten you have a lock on your door now. Wonder how long that’ll last. 

“I missed you” is the first thing he says when you let him in. And you believe him. How could you not when his hair is disheveled and there are dark circles under his eyes? His hands, riddled with silver rings, reach for your hips and pull you to him, groaning at your warmth, and when he takes a long inhale of your neck, his face falls in the crook of it. 

What a pain in the ass.

"Please get rid of the lock," he shamelessly requests. "I don't like not being able to come in here when I want. What if you get hurt? What if I need you?"

Scoffing, you snark, "You mean my panties."

One of his hands wanders behind you, under your shirt, and grips an ass cheek tight, fingers tracing the line of your panties until they’re at the gusset. You smack him away. Always pushing it. 

"No — well, yes, I want your panties too. But you come first, y'know. I'd much prefer getting what I need right from the source so I need you alive and well, roomie."

Sitting down on the bed, you give him a firm look. “Don’t touch me up, weirdo. I’m not even supposed to be rewarding you after the stunt you pulled.”

He gives you a sheepish smile, hand running through his messy but silky hair. 

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’ll buy you dinner for a month. Or whenever you want. In fact, I’ll do whatever you want forever.”

That’s not a fair exchange, considering he already does that, but you keep your mouth shut. You want to get this over with. “Alright. Get on your knees and take it already.”

Eyes darkening, he loses that smile. There’s something animalistic taking over his demeanour now. It should frighten you, the way he flexes his hands, veins popping, and how his black eyes are focused solely on the apex of your thighs, but truthfully, you’re not. You’ve seen this side of him so often it only makes you sigh. 

Kneeling on the floor in front of you, he clutches your knees, thumbs caressing your skin, drawing a barely audible gasp from you, but somehow, he hears it. Only half-dressed, Choso pushes your thighs open and slowly, like he might scare you off; he lays a kiss on the inner side, all while keeping eye contact. He loves doing that. Doing something depraved and immoral with no shame or remorse. 

Like last month, when you barged into his room and shoved him off his bed to search through his pillows for your missing panties, all he did was shrug and say, “Take the pink one; your smell's practically gone. But leave the blue for me. Please.”

You left him the pink and take the blue just to spite him, but he just shrugged again and laid back down, clutching the panties in his fist and inhaling deep, eyes rolling back and spare hand rubbing his hard-on through his joggers. Then, he gave you a sweet smile and asked what’s for dinner.

You hate him.

“You’re wearing the yellow with white polka dots today. Did you have a nightmare again?” He mutters against your skin as he kisses the other thigh, obviously concerned the other one will get upset if he shows favouritism. 

Leaning back on your palms, you hook one leg over his shoulder. “Yeah. Just a stupid zombie apocalypse one. God, we really gotta stop watching The Walking Dead.”

He hums an agreement before he dives face-first into your clothed pussy. 

“Ah, fuck! Choso, don’t do that.”

Of course, he doesn’t listen. Instead, he’s sniffing at your panties like a mouse. It’s so pathetic, but you don’t push him away. The sensation is kinda nice. You blame the fact that you haven’t gotten laid in far too long, and well, anytime you try to bring over someone, Choso chases them away with his weird vibes. Or if he senses you’re going out to get fucked, he’ll basically handcuff himself to you. 

“Aw, you just showered. That’s no fun,” he grumbles, lips skimming your slit through the material. You moan and he tightens his grip on your thigh, hiking up the other leg over his shoulder. Squashed between your thighs, he makes no complaints about the bruising on his knees as he kneels on the floor. You’re not even sure he feels the ache. “I like it better when you haven’t yet. Did I ever tell you I sometimes break the shower so that you can’t wash for a day or two?”

Breathless, you respond, “N-no, but you didn’t need to. I already knew.”

"I'd like to go longer. Would you ever go longer?"

"No, dumbass. Do that, and I'll kill you."

Frowning against your pussy, he grouches, "But just once? I'll be good."

You bundle a handful of his hair into a fist and force him to look at you. With a sickly sweet smile, you warn him, "Choso, sweetheart. If you do that, I'll knock on one of our neighbours. What about that hot, blond salaryman downstairs? Hmm? Would you like me to be all wet, naked, and vulnerable in his apartment? 'cause you know I'll do it."

Eyes rolling back and lips parted, he practically fights the urge to vomit at the thought just as he lets the pleasure of the pain you're inducing at his scalp overwhelm him. Shaking off the disgust and your grip, he dives back in to nuzzle your panties with his cheek, a much-needed comfort you suppose. 

Certain, he mutters with petulant pauses, "I won't do it...He's not even that hot...I was just asking."

Standing abruptly with your legs still clutched in his hands, you fall back onto the bed, watching him tower over you, face between your ankles. 

"I felt like I was going crazy without you," he confesses. "I haven't been able to touch you, to feel you, barely even talked to you. It's horrible."

You roll your eyes. "And, do tell, Chosito, whose damn fault was that?"

Once and twice, he ruts his boner into your bare legs, the hot and hard length tickling you. Through his joggers, you can feel that impressive length at max hardness, and if you close your eyes and really pay attention, you can even feel a growing spot of wetness on the material. "Mine. But I just wanted to get you riled up a little."

"Sorry to be such a disappointment."

He looks stupid with his hair flopping about and his hands clutching your legs to his torso like they'll leave, but the feeling of his bare chest, sculpted and muscular, burning your own skin, leaves you somewhat breathless. Brows furrowed, he asserts, "No, you're perfect. Always -ha- so perfect."

Rightfully, you're surprised he's even wearing any clothes. Too often have you had to tell him off for wondering around just in his boxers. He lounges with his hair all mussed, semi-hard cock outlined in the thin material as he scratches his abs. He cooks in just his boxers too. What he doesn't do is wear boxers at all when he comes out the bathroom after a steamy shower.

You don't really fight him too hard on his dressing habits.

"Was she a good kisser, Choso?"

He grunts, eyes fluttering open as he continues rutting on your legs. "W-who?"

"Your ex."

Groaning right before he sucks the skin on your ankle like he just can't help himself, he replies, "No. I hated every second. I imagined it was you. But it was -ngh- h-hard 'cause her body's all wrong. Your tits are bigger and you smell better."

Frustrated, he practically growls and roughly adjusts you on the bed to make space for his large body. He lays down with you, head at your pussy once more.

Now, he's rutting into the bed as he skims his lips on your panties, the sensation tickling you. You're fighting the urge to writhe on the bed and show him how good he's making you feel by barely doing anything; he'd never shut up if he realises this is as much for him as it is for you.

“You know your panties will be useless to me if they’re fresh, right? Maybe you should be nice and give me something else.”

“I shouldn’t e-even be rewarding you for breaking up with -ngh Choso slow down- your girlfriend. You used her, and that’s a fucked up thing to do, Choso.”

Face pressed to your panties again, he rubs the tip of his nose up and down your clothed slit, pressing harder where your clit is. Your hands fly to his hair. God, it’s so unfair how good he is at making the most of what little he’s being given. 

A thumb pushes in on your panties, circling your hole over the material. Then, with an irritatingly arrogant tone, he muses, “You say that, but you’re wet. Bet you were wet, too, when you watched us make out. Be honest, that was the real reason you hid in your room, wasn’t it? I got into the bathroom after you showered and your panties were soaked. Had a lot of fun with that one for hours. You wanted me to find it, didn't you?”

No way is he taking control of the situation. Cocky bastard. Like always, give him an inch, he goes all the way across the solar system. Shoving him off, you ignore his petulant, “Hey! No fair.”

In a flash, he’s being pushed out of your door, panty-less and looking like he’s in near tears. 

“Wait, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up. I promise.”

Cruelly, you smile. “Too fucking late, Kamo. Go jerk off the natural way, like God intended. Oh, and here’s your present for being a good boy and not fucking some other bitch.”

You smear the collected wetness from between your legs onto his lips, smirking at the desperate tongue that tries to capture as much of it as possible before you withdraw. 

“Bring another whore around here, and that’s the last of me you’ll ever get, mark my words. Say you understand.”

Eyes cloudy from delirium and licking his lips, he promises, “No one else. Only you.”

“Good.”

The door gets shut in front of his face. And locked for good measure. 

Later in the night, you walk out to get a glass of water from the kitchen and could only hear shameless moaning and whimpering coming from his room. You curse the tingling of your nipples and force your way back into your room. But even later, you get up and pad over inside. 

Under the glow of his bedside lamp, he lays there, sweaty, chest and hands soaked with drying cum, and asleep. You see his unlocked phone and sigh at the picture of you on there. It’s not even a suggestive one. You’re just hugging him from behind with a grin. 

Like you’ve done many times before, because he has the self-control of a ball of lint, you clean him up and tuck him in. He’ll catch a cold otherwise. Just as you turn to leave, however, his hand flies up and captures your wrist, fingers ringless. 

Half-conscious, he mumbles, “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have used her. Just want your attention. Want you to want me.”

“Oh, Choso.”

Placing his arm back onto his chest, you push his hair off of his forehead and lay a barely there kiss on his clammy skin. You say, “Nice try, weirdo. You’re still not getting my panties.”

“Aw, you’re so mean,” he huffs out, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

Then, you leave, feeling much lighter than when you dreamt of hands that weren't yours holding him captive and pulling him away. 

[quarterlifekitty]

Someone in the notes of my post abt Johnny with a piss kink commented about Simon and it took all of like 5 seconds for me to think of what kind of piss kink he’d have lol

cw: piss, coercion kinda (more like under negotiated kink idk)

Simon is a grabber. It checks out as a man who has a strong grip and doesn’t always fancy talking things out. He’s always got a firm hand somewhere on you. Your couch cuddling is not casual. Like this dude has got a hold on you. He’s like a mad dog— he just sinks his teeth into soft things and doesn’t let go.

And he likes to surprise you. It’s easy for him, and so funny when you jump at his presence or yelp like you’re an animal that just got its tail stepped on. And you know what? Getting the drop on you gets him kinda hard. It makes him feel like he’s got such total control.

You know by now that walking by Simon while he’s sitting somewhere while you’re at home is dangerous. He’s like a viper. You’ll be on your way and he’ll snatch you so you come falling into his lap.

Then he’ll straddle you on his thigh with an arm around your waist that that makes it so you can’t squirm away despite all your pathetic efforts. His other hand inevitably slithers beneath your waistband to palm and paw at your cunt mercilessly. He just gets into this kind of mood where he wants to make you boneless and fucked stupid out of nowhere— doesn’t even need to use his cock to do it, that’s how expertly he knows your body. You often whine at him to let you up, that you have shit to do, and he’ll tell you all that can wait. Until you pull out an excuse he hasn’t heard before.

“Simon— c’mon, I really need to pee, please—“

… He laughs.

“S’funny, that’s all. That you really think I give a shit about that, luv. Nah, you’re stayin’ right ‘ere, where I can tend to you.”

The truth is that Simon had never really thought about you pissing in that way before that moment. But he’s the kinda guy who knows what he wants, and he wants whatever the fuck you’ll give him. Spit, cum, tears, blood, piss— he’ll take any of it. It’s his libation. Your body is the center of his own personal cult. Who are you to deny a man his own religion?

He’ll fuss over you, petting too quick and hard at your clit, squeezing around your waist too tight, until you’re practically in tears because you just can’t hold it— and you let go. He almost cums untouched from how your warmth and wetness spreads over his thigh. You’re panting, and he’s comforting you, telling you how fucking good that was while you’re sobbing at the overstimulation and the shame, telling him you’re sorry even though he made you do it.

“S’okay, pretty bird— since when ‘ave I ever made you do something that didn’t turn me the fuck on, huh? God you fucking soaked me—“

[deprivedreality]

𝗪𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗻𝗼 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗞𝗮𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗸𝗶 𝗕𝗮𝗸𝘂𝗴𝗼!! 𝙚𝙭𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙢𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙞 𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙪𝙜𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙜𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨

Word Count: i don't know

Content: katsuki bakugo with glasses isn't an office siren, he's more of an attractive dwight schrute imo. gender neutral reader. drabble. fluff. i just saw these pictures on pinterest and I watched myself cook.

Katsuki Bakugo rubbed his temples as he squinted at the whiteboard in the training room. The writing blurred together, a hazy mess that made his already limited patience dwindle faster than usual. His vision had been weird ever since that run-in with a villain wielding a blinding quirk during his internship with Best Jeanist. The doctor had said his sight would recover in a few weeks, but the lingering effects were starting to piss him off real bad.

“Bakugo, you okay?”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. You were sitting beside him, your head tilted slightly as you observed his uncharacteristic struggle.

He's been rubbing and rubbing his eyes that you're worried they'd pop off any moment now. Damn, he can't even focus on his notes of fucking course cause he can't read it with the stupid combination of fucking astigmatism, myopia and glaucoma.

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, averting his gaze.

You weren’t convinced and, of course, you were concerned. “Doesn’t look like it. You’ve been squinting at everything for the past few days. Maybe you should get your eyes checked again.”

“Tch, I don’t need a damn checkup,” he snapped, but his annoyance lacked its usual bite. You frowned.

“Come on,” you said, standing and grabbing his arm. “What’s the harm in getting it checked? If there’s nothing wrong, great. If there is, we’ll figure it out.”

He sighed, realizing you wouldn’t let this go. “Fine. But if this is a waste of time, I’m blaming you.”

It's a good thing you two were still in school grounds, it means Recovery Girl is no more than a few halls away from where you and bakugo were studying at.

The clinic was quiet when you arrived, and Recovery Girl was quick to examine Bakugo’s eyes. After a series of tests, the diagnosis was clear: his vision was still recovering, but for the time being, he needed glasses to help him see more clearly.

Bakugo’s expression was a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “Glasses? Seriously?”

“It’s just temporary,” Recovery Girl assured him. She then walked towards a closet in the far back and whipped out what seemed to be nerd glasses. “Here, try these.”

The doctor handed Bakugo a pair of black-rimmed glasses. He put them on reluctantly, and you had to stifle a laugh when you saw the way his eyes looked magnified through the lenses.

“What’s so damn funny?” he snapped, narrowing his newly enlarged eyes at you.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, but—oh my god, Katsuki! You look like a cartoon character!”

He scowled, but there was a faint pink tint to his cheeks. Despite his irritation, there was something oddly satisfying about seeing you laugh like that.

"I'd put a bow on that glasses if you'd let me! All you need now are beaver teeth and you'll be a certified goof ball!" You laughed, basically breathless. Even Recovery Girl couldn't help but stiffle a laugh.

“Shut the hell up,” he muttered, taking the prescription and storming out, but not before glancing back to catch you still grinning.

The next day, Bakugo walked into class wearing his new glasses. The room went silent for about three seconds before the laughter began. Even Todoroki and Tokoyami couldn't help their grin, their lips twitched in amusement.

“Bakugo!” Kaminari wheezed, clutching his sides. “You look like a scientist!”

"Whoah! Bakubro! I feel like I'm in a 3D movie with those lenses!" Kirishima added, laughing even harder than Kaminari.

"Heavens, Bakugo, Is that magnifying glass? Or are you just that eager to start class?" Even Iida couldn't help himself and added to the chaos. Bakugo was starting to erupt.

“I bet he can spot a typo on a billboard from a mile away with those,” Mina chimed in, tears of laughter streaming down her face.

"I bet he's craving bananas!" Mineta boomed. Unlucky for him, he was within Bakugo's range and got his ahh exploded.

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugo roared, his hands sparking ominously.

But his outburst only made them laugh harder.

You, sitting at your desk, couldn’t stop giggling either. You already had the laugh of your life when you saw him wear it for the first time, now you had the chance to actually examine him with glasses. “I think he looks cute,” you said loud enough for him to hear, still smiling.

Bakugo froze but his hands were still in the middle of choking Kaminari and Mineta, his glare snapping to you. “What? You didn't think it was yesterday,”

“It is cute though. Now that I stare at you more," you repeated, a teasing lilt in your voice. “The glasses suit you.”

He blinked, momentarily thrown off by your words. The classroom fell silent, everyone holding their breath to see how he’d react.

“Hypocrite,” he muttered, finally settling, sitting down and turning his attention to his notes. But you didn’t miss the way his ears turned red, or the way he didn’t try to blast anyone after that.

I think he looks cute! The glasses suits you... now that I stare at you more. I think he looks cute! It's cute though. I think he looks cute! Chanted at the back of his mind over and over. SHUT UP!

The next day, Bakugo showed up to class without his glasses. The change was immediate—everyone noticed, but no one dared comment on it. His glare alone was enough to keep them quiet.

During lunch, you slid into the seat next to him. “Eee? No glasses today?”

“Wearing contacts,” he replied curtly, poking at his food.

“Why? The glasses were cute,” you said, resting your chin in your hand as your gaze sauntered off.

He gave you a side-eye glance, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly when you weren't looking at him. “Yeah, well, I’m not here to entertain you idiots.”

You pouted dramatically. “I liked the glasses. I thought for sure you'd wear them until you get better. I never thought you'd like contacts. Are you ever gonna wear them again?”

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” you repeated, narrowing your eyes. “That’s not good enough, Bakugo.”

“Tch,” he muttered, pushing his tray aside. “I’ll wear ’em during our study sessions, alright? Happy now?”

You blinked, caught off guard by his casual mention of your study time together. But you smiles nevertheless. “Oh. Yeah, that works! Lemme decorate it!”

“The damn glasses are not mine, idiot. But whatever,” He stood abruptly, leaving you alone at the table, your cheeks warm and your heart racing.

True to his word, Bakugo showed up to your next study session wearing his glasses. You couldn’t help but smile as he sat down across from you, his usual scowl softened by the frames perched on his nose.

“You know,” you said, flipping through your notes, “I think I like you better with glasses. You looked extra goofy cute.”

He snorted, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it. I’m ditching these things the second my eyes are back to normal.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the fondness in your smile. “Whatever you say, Bakugo.”

For the rest of the session, the two of you worked in comfortable silence, broken only by your occasional teasing and his gruff responses. At one point, you scribbled a tiny pink bow to which you cut out and Bakugo actually agreed with your request to put it temporarily on it. And though he’d never admit it out loud, Katsuki Bakugo didn’t mind the glasses so much when it meant he got to see you smile like that.

ᓚᘏᗢ @deprivedreality 2024 | all rights reserved.

[kammazi]

★ you and katsuki have been dating since highschool and as luck would have it, you both loved to play video games together (or sometimes separately when katsuki would keep blowing up your house in minecraft).

you would play when you would both come back from patrol, or on your days off, including the nights when you chose to stay in when your friends went off partying to god knows where.

eventually however, the more you played the more you realised how funny katsuki was with his reactions and constant serious concentration face that looked like he was in a fight with a villain. so you brought up an idea you had one day.

to start twitch streaming.

at first you expected to be shut down with a scowl or the roll of the eyes but to your surprise he gave you an eyebrow raise followed by, “you know what, why the hell not.”

and that’s what brought you here right now, the two of you huddled around the dual monitor with you having one hand on the mouse, the other on the WASD keys. shaking.

the camera was set up in front as your microphone was positioned in between you two with the chat spamming hilarious comments that were going too fast for you to read, not that you were trying however because you were about to piss your pants.

“katsuki i don’t want to do this anymore.” you could feel the sweat gathering on your palms. you were currently guiding your character through a dark hallway, the only light coming from your flashlight.

“stop you’re fine, just keep going. don’t overthink it.” that’s basically all the support you were getting and you know what, you only have yourself to blame as you thought it would be funny to play a horror game you saw circling on your feed recently, with katsuki saying it didn’t even look scary to be considered one.

“no wait did you see that, there was literally some guy peeking around the corne— OH MY GOD HES CHASING ME HELP.” you could hear katsukis snickers as he watched you pathetically try to escape.

“left sweets, turn left.” your words came out as gibberish as you panicked “I CANT MOVE”. your comment was shortly followed by a scream as the figure lunged at you, the screen displaying a red ‘GAME OVER’.

the force or the jump knocked the microphone, slamming it against katsukis face.

the comment section started blowing up as you sat there contemplating why you ever thought this was a good idea in the first before realising what you did.

katsuki was bent over, laughing hysterically as he fixed the microphone before sitting back up and wrapping an arm around your shoulder, rubbing it in comfort.

you turned to him, a hand covering your mouth. “i’m so sorry kats i didn’t mean to.” you rubbed his face to try and soothe the hit that he probably barely even felt. while still laughing, he kissed your cheek and stood up.

“alright move over and watch the real pro at work”

which was very short lived because after a cruel jumpscare catching him off guard (which you had deemed was impossible before today) and resulted in him letting out an almost inaudible yelp, he had sat there with a straight face before turning to look at the comments that were mocking him to no end.

he scowled before responding to some.. not so gently. “FUCK YOU ‘GOONMASTER227’, I KNOW YOU WOULD BE TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO EVEN TRY-” you quickly cut him off by grabbing his bicep and pulling him away from the screen. everyone was already used to katsukis outbreaks wether that be on the clock or over some stupid game, however everyone still thought it was the funniest thing ever and always clipped him in these moments.

you tried your best not to chuckle. “okayy guys i think that’s enough for today. if you want us to finish the game please let us know and we hope you enjoyed the stream.” you had by now started cackling as you could hear the steam coming off of your boyfriend.

“like hell we will, this game is ass. get this off the screen.”

two days later, your boyfriends reaction was soon all over the internet, just like you assumed, and his fearsome expression that people managed to pause at the right time and screenshot was on every single profile picture of every account you saw, even your own friends.

safe to say you took a short break from streaming and had to kiss away the scowl on katsukis face for days on end after that.

a.n ; was watching coryxkensin and thought it could be funny. half assed it tho forgive me 😔 (not proofread)

@KAMMAZI 2025

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

hi how would the batfam react if every time they pushed the limits of black bizarre reader they reacted in very stupid ways (eg: telling jason that he was less annoying when he was in a tomb or telling cass that she preferred the time when she didn't know how to speak)

Bizarre...like JoJo's Bizarre Adventure??? (LOL sorry, but this is a good idea.)

Weird neglected black!reader is the biggest crashout known to man. They crash out over little things and are a world-renowned hater. I can't stress this enough: the reader seems so normal and chill, but if you push them to their limit, they'll have a Kendrick Lamar-level crashout. When Damian first came to the mansion, you tried to treat the little brat with kindness and courtesy, being gentle and sweet knowing his background. But he acts so arrogant and superior, with a God complex to the max. He held you at sword point once, saying he is the true heir and if you get in his way, he will cut you down—just for you to go out of your way to pawn his sword at a shady pawn shop in Gotham. You don't care who he is or what he's the heir to; if he points another sword at you again, it's going to be sold for 500 bucks on Etsy. Tim, the biggest hypocrite known to mankind and an asshole, thinks so much better than you. You make it your business to go on his Steam account, find every game he's ever played, and replace it with a stupid ass mod to beat his high score. A casual game of MK9 will turn into a bloodbath as you destroy him while staring deep into his soul. You've got to show the twink who's boss. Bruce is your biggest opp; you'll spread rumors about him when he pisses you off—spreading rumors around galas and the press.

"Bruce Wayne owns Superman merch and wears it around the house." Twitter will have a field day with that! That'll teach him not to make fun of your hobbies. Jason is such a hater, calling manga cringe and telling you to read real literature. You just hit him with!

"I miss the old Jason," under my breath.

"I like you better when you were fun," and you destroy him.

Dick will act like a family man just to ignore you; it drives you crazy. So, when friends are over, you never introduce him as your brother.

"Oh, him? He's just a guy who lives here; just ignore him." And he’s hurt.

With Duke, he will ignore you at almost every turn, so avoid him like the plague; when they go low, you go lower if a reporter asks you about him.

"Whom? Duke has never meant me a day in my life." You answered quickly.

"He's been living with you for years..."

"Really, I never knew." They go low; you've got to the pits of hell.

[soulwrencher]

Hi!!!! I don’t know if you take request.. but I can’t stop thinking about vi coming home from the gym, or reader going to meet vi at her gym? But her sweaty abs? Those back muscles? Those arms? 😩 and vi just being so smug about it because she knows the effect she has on reader 😭

yesss i like this! note: i don't really workout at the gym (embarrassing i know...), so if this is super unrealistic just... gawk over her body! be horny!

also you should totally read this by my fav writer ever if you haven't already, you'll be OBSESSED. kisses n hugs @vampiefemme 😘

1, 2, 3, 4,... were you counting your own reps or vi's? your mouth was practically on the floor, eyes ogling at her back from afar. there's quite the distance between you and where she is working out at, but that doesn't stop you from dislocating your neck to watch her do pull-downs.

there is just something about the way she's built, tattoo climbing down her neck as well as the usually headache inducing overhead lights making the sweat on her traps shine, and her big, to drool over, triceps. and fuck were they moving with every pull too, actively flexing underneath her drenched tank top. absolutely soaked, (you or her?) vi takes her tank top off, you almost slam the weights. feeling the blood rush through your body from the embarrassment of just almost pissing people off (and the fact that you've been staring for full 5 minutes), your mind carries you away, to your bed, underneath vi, who's doing pushups over you and then smiles at you, how dreamy.

and then she smiles at you. wait, what? a small but very potent 'fuck' escapes your mouth. she's done with her sets and quickly redirects her focus to cleaning the machine.

vi is grinning like an idiot, it's hard to stay oblivious when she literally felt something (your pretty eyes) burning into her back. and besides, it was super hot watching you too. she overthrew her whole workout routine just because of 8 little words:

'heyyy i heard you go to the gym?☺️'

it took her an hour to reply, Yeahhh I do, erase, We should go together, erase, I think you're really cute, erase, I'm going this Friday you wanna join me cutie? send. vi wasn't stupid, it takes two to play a game. and you were going to lose.

"you looked distracted," vi chuckles, sweat dripping down her forehead.

slam. "oh god, that startled me, haha." you look around, 'i'm sorry' plastering your whole face. you feel the heat rush up into your head and accumulating there. what the hell.

"is it fun watching me?" she continues. she's facing you, arm stretched out and resting on the leather of your seat. you're fucked.

"i was just trying to see when you're done—" you pause to look at her, but vi's eyes are elsewhere, further down, was she checking you out?

"—not sure if i'm doing this right," you say as your eyes wander to her stretched out arm, suddenly you feel warmth spreading from in between your thighs...

she hums in response, scoff-laugh following. vi gathered that you weren't going to lose easily.

"can i?" she asks and you nod, hot palms adjusting your foot placement on the board. you like how her hands feel, they were rough and calloused but still so, so warm.

you press against the board, small grunts and groans escaping your lips. fuck, you sound a little too good, vi totally did not just imagine all possible (well, rather a small selection) of scenarios where you'd make exactly those noises.

she tries to distract herself from her thoughts where you are moaning her name, so she strokes your left hamstring to make sure you're... to make sure what exactly? you immediately look up, but the way vi is looking at you... you can't help but get lost in her eyes, you wanted her to get lost in you. and she couldn't ignore the throbbing that was practically begging to be taken care of from just looking at you and touching your skin.

one thing leads to another and her fingers are filling you up and pumping into you as slick gushes out from the sides of her fingers. iiiiin the bathroom of the women's locker room. gross, absolutely, but you're too busy trying to swallow your moans.

"not sure if i'm doing this right." vi whispers into your ear. you roll your eyes, she's obviously mocking your awful attempt at covering up the fact that you were staring.

"'doing, mhmmmh, just fine," you slur.

fuck, you were driving vi insane. she throws her head back, hard nipples graze against the fabric of your workout top as she thrusts her body against yours, pressing your back against the stall wall. and she's still inside you, vi is still curling her fingers against the walls of your gaping cunt. you dig your nails into vi's back, "more," you whisper.

"fuck, i—" vi slowly slides out her fingers, you successfully flustered her, she's completely worked up, cute. and then, seemingly out of nowhere, she brushes a lose strand behind your ear, it feels like you're dripping onto the gym floor. kinda gross, but whatever, because vi's hand is right there where you want it, cupping your face.

"let me take you to my place," she then says, voice low. she watches a small smile appear on your face. "sure, show me your home workouts," you wink, causing vi to turn the same color as her hair.

got you.

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

but you belong to me

bf!rafe cameron x fem!pogue!reader

cw — p in v, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, dumbification, jealousy, rough sex

summary — after rafe sees another guy “flirting” with you, he takes you home to remind you of something.

a/n — currently working on some requests so heres whatever this is. please request more!!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“no, yeah, like i actually did so fucking bad. i got an 84 and almost cried,” your friend, daniel, said dramatically as he spoke to you over the loud music of the party. he shook his head at the thought. “god, i hate that old-ass teacher. he can suck my fucking dick.”

you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him and giggle before taking another sip of your drink. “dude, what are you talking about? that’s not even bad. it’s still a B and i doubt it even dropped your grade.”

unfortunately for you, you could feel rafe’s glare boring into your side as you talked. he was extremely annoyed. he was left wondering what was so insanely interesting that you and this random guy have been talking for 15 minutes already. you looked too engaged in the conversation and you laughed a little too much at what he was saying.

“yo, you good?” topper asked when he noticed his best friend gripping his bottle of beer until his knuckles turned white and his jaw clenched almost painfully hard.

rafe didn’t even spare a glance to him, just continued staring at you. “yeah man, ‘m fine,” he said uninterestedly.

he followed his gaze to where he was looking at you just as you laughed with the boy before chuckling and patting his back. “he’s just some fuckin’ pogue, man. no need to worry ‘bout him.”

“fuck off, top,” he mumbled in annoyance. he never wanted to be interacted with when he was pissed off and this was definitely no exception. unless it was you of course.

while daniel spoke, you finally averted your gaze over to your boyfriend who was still leaned up against the wall like he was when you’d left to get more drinks before being stopped by your classmate. you mentally cursed at yourself. he looked pissed. he nodded over the front door, eyes never leaving yours as he waited for you to follow the silent command.

that was the last thing you could remember from that stupid party. no matter how many times you’d tried to tell your boyfriend that nothing happened, that you were just talking about your grades, he didn’t care or believe that. he knows what he saw and he saw the boy flirting with you.

and that lead you here, face buried into his pillows and your ass up with rafe bullying his cock into your hole with rough hands gripping your hips tight and uncontrollable moans leaving your lips. your nails dug into his bed sheets as you felt the slide of tears run down your cheeks at the overwhelming feeling of his thrusts.

“such a dumb baby,” he mumbled, freezing deep inside you to make you squeal and squirm. “always gettin’ so fucked up ‘nd letting random guys flirt with you huh? can’t even handle your fuckin’ alcohol.”

you cried harder into the sheets as frustration built up inside you from both the situation and the pain of him bottomed out. “di—didn’t have anyone flirting with me, rafe,” you snapped back as sassily as you could manage.

“what was that baby? couldn’t hear you,” he teased in that rude, mocking voice you hated. he pushed his hips further into you, pushing your body to lean forward more and allowing him to press into you at a different angle.

you whimpered and leaned up on your forearms with the last bit of strength you had to look over your shoulder at him. “you’re bein’ mean.”

he jutted his lower lip out and fake pouted. “aw, i’m bein’ mean? so sorry, sweet girl,” he muttered before grabbing your hips and pulling them back to their normal position. he slowly pulled back then pushed forward harshly, making you yelp and jolt forward. he repeated the action multiple times. “maybe this’ll teach you a lesson not to fuck around with other dudes.”

you balled up the sheets and buried your face in them when he began snapping into you quickly. your legs began shaking and threatening to give out under the pressure and rough force of his thrusts. “can you be a good girl and keep yourself up for me, baby?”

after another particularly hard thrust, your body finally collapsed and your cried out when he quickly slipped out of you. you could hear him sigh from behind you. “jesus. went all fuckin’ dumb in me and now i gotta do all the work, right?” he mocked before pressing your legs together and straddling them to then slide back into you.

you squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered at the new sensitivity the angle brought. he leaned forward once he was fully sheathed inside you to grab a pillow and wrap one arm under your hips to lift them up enough to slid it under and ease the pain of your back and hips. the small act of care and kindness made you smile against the mattress.

he began to pound into your used hole from behind just enough to make you scream but not hurt you. “feels good, rafe. ‘s so fuckin’ good,” you babbled mindlessly to let him know you were still here and okay. “so—so deep.”

“yeah? can feel you squeezing around me,” he replied, continuing his punishing pace. “shoulda recorded this shit to show everyone how much of a fuckin’ slut you are once you get my dick inside you. maybe then everyone would stay the fuck away from my girl. maybe i should jus’ knock you up, cum inside this little cunt and have you all swollen with my kid so everyone sees you’re mine.”

you felt yourself involuntarily clench at the words before your legs began to spasm again. “oh! ‘m gonna come, rafe. please, please, please,” you begged for sweet release and he fucked you quicker until he felt you cream around him.

he chuckled and leaned down to kiss between your shoulder blades as you continued to ride through it. “that’s it. feels like fuckin’ heaven around me. best pussy i’ll ever have,” he mumbled against your skin. “i’ve got you, baby. ‘m right here.”

his hands gently kneaded the fat of your ass as you finally came down before swiping the pillow out from under you and pulling out. he rolled you onto your back and took in the sight of your disheveled state. your hair was messy and sticking to your face and up in the air, your cheeks were blushed from the intensity of your orgasm, and your tits were sitting so prettily right in front of him. “so fuckin’ gorgeous, angel. what’d i do to deserve you?”

in contrast to just moments ago, he softly pushed the hair off your face and smoothed it down. he leaned forward to gently suck on your left breast and leave deep colored hickeys along your skin for him to look back at later. while one hand toyed with your other breast, the other lined himself back up with you then pushed himself inside.

you bit your lip and whimpered at the stretch of him. “oh fuck,” you heard him moan against your breast before switching and sucking your other nipple into his mouth. he slowly rocked into you at a much more loving and delicate pace. it wasn’t about punishing you anymore, he just wanted to feel you and be close to you.

you sighed in relief when be began hitting that certain spot inside of you a much more tolerable pace and his pelvis gently rubbed against your clit. it felt like you were starting to see stars with how he’d press against it for prolonged moments. he left wet kisses up your neck and to your jaw then finally your lips. he was leaned up on his forearms at either side of your head while he kissed you softly with that same passionate love he always showed you.

your hands reached up onto his head, searching for something to grab onto only then remembering the buzzcut he now has. you moaned into his mouth when you felt him speed up just slightly while your hands continued to roam for something to hold from the overwhelming pleasure you could feel building up again.

he took hold your hand and intertwined your fingers at the side of your head, letting you squeeze him as tight as you needed as your moans began to pick up and so did his soft pants of breath. “fuck, angel. pussy feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly. “‘m gonna come.”

you hummed in agreement and clenched around him, making him groan and gently suck on the sensitive skin of your neck. “inside, rafe. p—please come inside me,” you moaned, desperate to feel him fill you up.

he mumbled a string a curses before spilling inside you and triggering your own orgasm. he continued softly kissing at your skin and allowing you to squeeze his hand through the pleasure until he finally rode it out for the both of you. “you okay, baby?” he mumbled slightly out of breath.

you nodded and huffed out slow breaths. “mhm, ‘m good,” you replied, still in euphoric bliss.

he slowly laid on top of you as to not crush you with his weight before burying his face in your neck, still inside you. “don’t ever let me catch another dude flirting with you again,” he said against your skin.

you rolled your eyes. “oh fuck off,” you said jokingly while pushing him off of you and out of you then rolling onto your side away from him.

he laughed softly and quickly followed, grabbing your waist to pull you back into his chest to smother your shoulder and neck with wet kisses.

[v1rtualsalvat10n]

𓆩♡𓆪 how to tell you goodbye

— weeks after his mysterious disappearance, lu shows up at your door with a message for you.

notes :: TW FOR DUBCON. uh yeah I find the idea of him apologizing for doing what he has to do very hot. f!reader sorry guys this is self indulgent

You don't remember how long it's been.

But you know it'd been long enough for you to stop wondering if he was actually coming back or not, and try to cope with that fact. He was gone - there was very little doubt in your mind about that. He'd stopped responding to calls and messages, his socials went cold, his friends, at least the ones you knew, hadn't heard anything either.

He disappeared. And the last thing you ever heard from him was that he was planning on doing something... real. But he never told you what. He could be dead for all you know, and there was nothing you could do about it.

It took a pretty big toll on you. He was one of the few friends you had, and just like that he was gone. Just when things were looking up for you, your support system just had to vanish into thin air. You missed him, fuck, you missed him more than anything. You missed your little coffee shop dates, the weekend parties, playing games in your apartment when it was lonely, sitting in the park together just talking for hours.

You miss those little looks he gave you when he thought you weren't looking, the way that some of your mannerisms made him smile, the nights where your conversations would get real and you'd cry on his shoulder when it was too much for you. You miss how he'd let you.

You missed the moment when he made you look at him, and wiped your tears with his thumb, letting the tension between you two linger for longer than it should. You missed his warm, shaky breath against your cheek. But you missed the most that moment when you felt his lips on yours, just for that few seconds.

You didn't miss the way he seemed to have regretted it after.

But you remembered that the clearest of all... watching the guilt in his eyes set in as he moved away from you, standing from your couch and rushing for his bags, saying that "it was getting late" or some lie like that. You remembered how he didn't even look back at you as he walked out of your door.

And that was the last day you saw him. He texted you the next morning.

"Hey, I probably won't be able to see you for a while. Working on stuff. Gonna do something real with my life."

What the fuck did that even mean? It made you angry, irrationally so. It probably only made you angry because you thought it was your fault. But god dammit, that felt valid! You felt like you had a fair reason to be pissed. It was no secret you liked him - it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out either! He'd do something like that so carelessly, and then just throw you out?

You hated it. Maybe you'd feel better with an explanation, but the truth of the matter is that he kissed you and then mysteriously disappeared, not to be seen again. And how were you not supposed to make assumptions in that situation?

And so you'd spend your days by yourself. With no more Luigi to rely on to keep you from spiraling, you'd been curled up in your room by yourself, scrolling through his social media posts, rereading your message logs to see if there's something you'd missed.

You had a jacket of his he left at your place, and every night you'd wrap a pillow in it and breathe in the mix of cologne and his natural scent until it lulled you to sleep.

It wasn't enough. You wish he'd come back, but even if he did, what was there to say? Even if he apologized, you didn't know that you'd forgive him.

That is, until he actually did come back.

No, surely that was just wishful thinking - that knock was probably a salesman or someone stupid like that coming to bother you. You dragged yourself up from your bed and slowly approached the door, groaning to yourself before putting on a fake smile to answer it.

And sure enough, there he was. Cold and scruffy looking, his clothes ruffled and his hair matted, bags under his eyes. He pushed you inside, and slammed the door behind himself.

He kissed you again. But this time he didn't hesitate, and he wasn't gentle - he threw himself onto you, your lips messily colliding with his as he leaned into it, diving his tongue into your mouth. His hands slid down to your hips, grabbing the waistband of your sweatpants so tight it was like he might fall off the Earth if he let go.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, and he hungrily pushed it as far as you'd let it go, which was admittedly pretty far. But then the shock faded, and you pressed your hands to his chest, shoving him back. He was weak enough that he fell back into the door, leaning against it to prevent from fully toppling over.

"What the fuck?!"

You'd never yelled at him before. Never even thought about getting upset with him. His face turned fearful, as he steadied himself and tried to walk forwards again. You took a step back for the one he took forwards.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Who do you think you are, fucking with me like this?!"

His expression shifted. He just stared at you, blankly, either too tired or too numb to show any emotion anymore. And fuck, that only made you angrier. "You think this is funny? I was worried you could be dead, and now you just- show up, months later, looking like this? Why didn't you say something? You just- just-"

"I'll explain everything. Just... I really... missed you."

"Yeah? You didn't miss me enough to at least give me a heads up that you were alive!" You hid your face in your hands, sighing deeply trying to contain yourself. What reasonable explanation could there possibly be? You couldn't reason with him surely.

You hear him step forwards, and he places his hands on your hips again. You reach down to pull him off of you, but the moment you move your hands away from your face, he's pressing more kisses to your lips. He holds you tighter, his arms wrapping around you. "Get off me," you growl, but he doesn't listen.

He kisses your neck, his warm breath shaking profusely. "Luigi," you say, and he can't even look up at you. You yank one of his hands off, only for him to put it back on you with more force than the last time. "I said get off!"

"Let me make it up to you," he begs you, his gaze meeting yours as he walked you forwards, pushing you onto the couch. You try to stand, but he's quicker, and he straddles you, hovering over you and pushing you down by your shoulders. He stops looking you in the eyes, too embarrassed at what he was doing.

"Luigi, stop! I'm trying to talk to you, god dammit!" He doesn't listen. He can't. He's already straining his jeans, grinding his hips into yours. It's warm. He's warm, and fuck, you can't lie to yourself. You missed this feeling. You missed the feeling of something real being there with you. You missed him.

Your body betrays you, and you softly rock your hips forwards into his, swearing under your breath. He smiles softly, cupping one of your hips in his hand. "It's okay. I know you missed this." He looked at you, a weird sincerity in his eyes, considering what he was actually doing.

"I'm not messing around. This- this isn't funny. Let go of me." At some point you had stopped struggling without noticing, and you squirmed again, causing him to push more of his weight down onto you. He spoke softly to you. "Shh, it's okay... It's okay, I promise I won't take long. Promise, promise."

He muttered some words in Italian, something that sounded along the lines of a prayer as he rutted into you, yanking your hips up to get more friction. "Stop it," you say again, covering your face with one of your hands.

The truth is that you'd dreamed of this moment for so long. So very long. You'd dreamed of what it would feel like when he finally touched you, his skin on yours, giving you all he had to give. But fuck, not like this, not like this-

He finished with whatever he was reciting, and slipped his fingers under your waistband, along with the one of your panties and tugged them down. You pressed your thighs together, but he was stronger than you and pushed them apart, leaving you exposed for him.

"You're beautiful..." He stared down at you, leaving a crimson shade on your cheeks. "I'm sorry, I just... I felt like I had to tell you goodbye." Your eyes widened as he said that, and you shook your head. "What are you talking about? Luigi, I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere either. You don't have to do this, please-"

By the time you finished, he was already unbuckling his belt, the sound of the buckle clinking against itself making you shiver. He unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them down, rubbing himself against your folds. He was big. Bigger than you expected. Big enough that it looked like this might leave you sore.

You tried to scoot back, but he reached for you and pulled you closer than you were before, gasping at the feeling of your wetness against his cock. He'd longed for this forever, maybe even since the moment he'd first laid eyes on you. It felt like heaven to him, despite how dirty he felt - despite the fact that he knew it was wrong.

Something about you looking down on him for this only made him harder.

He lined himself up with your entrance and parted you with just his tip, his nails sinking into your hips as he did. "Fuck," he whimpered, "I'm so sorry, amore."

And with that, he slid into you slowly. You sighed in relief, only to cry out when he was so overwhelmed by pleasure that he slammed himself into you as deep as he could manage, rolling his hips into you.

Fuck. You could feel him pressing against your cervix. His breath shook as he panted heavily, shutting his eyes tightly as he pulled out nearly all the way, only to slam back into you. He swore, leaving bruises on your sides from how hard he was holding you. It hurt but you didn't care.

He kept up this brutal force, moving all the way out just so he could thrust deep into you again. It took him a while to speed up just because he was so overstimulated by it. But when he did, he fucked you like a wild animal, slamming his hips into yours, the obscene sound of his skin hitting yours filling your apartment.

You looked up at him, who still had his eyes closed out of shame. You couldn't help but imagine what he saw behind his eyelids, what he was imagining as he fucked you in earnest. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes, but he fought against them. "I'm sorry," he muttered, over and over again. He couldn't stop apologizing.

"It's- it's okay, it's okay... fuck-! I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you... oh god..."

That was too much for him. Your acceptance, that unconditional love of yours, the fact that he could do this, and you would still understand, pushed him over, and tears streamed down his cheeks.

His hands frantically slid up your sides as he leaned down onto you, both your chests pressed together, getting as much of his skin on yours as possible. He ran his fingers up and down you, committing every hill and valley to memory. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll make it up to you. I promise you. I promise."

He kept mindlessly apologizing as he used you, controlled by his own need. There was no stopping him now, and you didn't want to. He was beautiful even like this, even at his lowest point. You knew that you loved him in this moment.

"I'm gonna cum, please, please... I'm sorry, I need it, please, baby-" He kept babbling through his tears, which fell onto your cheeks. You closed your eyes softly, leaning into his touch, pressing your lips to his.

He devoured you in an instant, the kiss deeper than before, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. "Perdonami, ti prego," he begged, speaking inbetween breaths.

"Lu," you cooed. "Go ahead. It's alright."

As soon as you commanded him, his eyes shot open and he threw his head back as he rammed into your cervix, spilling himself deep inside of you, his body shaking as he did. You tightened around him, the feeling of him finally letting himself go enough to make you cum too, as you called out his name.

He stayed tensed up over you for a moment, his arms struggling to hold his weight as his eyes shut, and he collapsed on top of you, his face in your chest. He started to sob, gripping you tight, one of his hands going down to entangle with yours. "I'm so sorry, amore," he repeated, over and over, "I'm sorry"s falling from his lips.

You pressed him closer, free hand stroking his hair softly as he crumbled in your arms. "It's okay. I forgive you."

"Please don't hold it against me."

"We'll figure it out, okay, Lu? We'll figure it out, together. Me and you. Because I love you."

"I love you too.... No matter what happens, remember that I love you."