#that or he was bleaching that light streak in

[your-local-simp-writers]

A Little Sunshine and Some Explosions

Word Count: 1692

Warnings: None

Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The vibrant hues of autumn blanketed U.A. Academy as you made your way across campus, the cool breeze dancing around you and rustling the leaves underfoot. The air was rich with the smell of pumpkin spice, and laughter echoed from groups of students sharing their Halloween plans. It felt like everyone was caught up in the spirit of the season, and you couldn’t help but feel that familiar buzz of excitement tingling in your chest.

You approached your dorm, anticipation bubbling inside you as you unlocked the door. The moment you stepped inside, the warmth of the room enveloped you. Katsuki Bakugo was sprawled on your couch, his muscular frame taking up a substantial portion of the seat. His signature scowl was set in place as he scrolled through his phone, completely engrossed. The sight made you smile; it was comforting to see him in a familiar environment, surrounded by your own Halloween decorations—a mishmash of pumpkins, string lights, and cheesy ghost cutouts that you had hung up just a few days ago.

“Hey, idiot,” he grunted, his eyes still glued to the screen as you kicked off your shoes and flopped down beside him.

“Hey, Katsuki! Are you ready for Halloween?” you chirped, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. You could practically feel your smile radiating through the air.

He finally glanced over, eyebrows raised, clearly unimpressed. “We’re just picking out pumpkins, right? This isn’t some Halloween parade.”

“Of course! But I thought we could carve them together afterward, and maybe bake some spooky cookies? It’ll be fun!” You reached for a pumpkin-shaped cookie cutter you’d set on the table, holding it up with pride.

Bakugo rolled his eyes, but you caught the slight twitch of his lips that hinted he was fighting back a smile. “Why would I wanna bake cookies when we could just order takeout? It’s Halloween; I’m not wasting my time on baking when I could be blowing stuff up.”

“Blowing stuff up is not on the agenda, mister!” you said, shaking your head as you leaned closer to him. “It’s about having fun! And you can’t deny that pumpkin cookies are the best.”

“Whatever. You’re a dork,” he shot back, but his tone was lighter than before, the corners of his mouth betraying him again.

You turned your attention to the assortment of pumpkins on the table, looking for the perfect one to carve. “So, I was thinking about our costumes. You’ll be Bowser, right? I can’t wait to be Princess Peach!”

“Peach? Seriously?” He raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely puzzled. “You wanna wear a frilly pink dress? Do you even have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

“Yes! It’ll be adorable! And don’t pretend you don’t want to wear the Bowser costume. It’ll be hilarious!” You beamed at him, knowing you could break through his tough exterior if you just kept pushing a little.

He let out an exasperated sigh, but you could see the hint of interest flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, and I’ll look like an idiot.”

“An adorable idiot,” you corrected with a playful nudge. “I have a plan to make it epic!”

Bakugo crossed his arms, still pretending to be uninterested, but you could see the way he leaned in slightly, as if he was genuinely intrigued. “What’s the plan then, oh great costume designer?”

You laughed, moving to your closet and rummaging through your supplies. “Well, since I have curly brown hair, I thought we could dye my hair for the costume! I need to be the real Princess Peach, and that means I need to look the part!”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. “You think dyeing your hair is gonna make you look like a princess?”

“Of course! I’m going to bleach it first and then add some cute pink streaks!” You held up the bottles of bleach and dye, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “And you get to help me!”

“Help you?” He scoffed, leaning back against the couch with a dismissive expression. “You think I’m gonna sit around while you turn your hair into a rainbow?”

“Come on! It’ll be fun! Plus, it’s Halloween, and you can’t just say no to your adorable girlfriend,” you said, grinning widely.

“Don’t use that on me,” he grumbled, but there was an unmistakable warmth in his voice that made you feel giddy inside. You knew he was softening, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

With a triumphant smile, you grabbed a chair and placed it in front of your bathroom mirror. “Alright, let’s get started! You can be my dye assistant!”

He begrudgingly stood up, his gruff demeanor still in place, but you caught the slight hint of a smile on his lips as he followed you. “Just don’t get any of this on me,” he warned, crossing his arms again as you set everything up.

“I promise I won’t! Just sit still, and don’t complain too much,” you replied, trying to keep a straight face as you prepared the bleach.

As you began the process, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Bakugo. He was watching intently, and despite his grumpy exterior, you sensed a certain fondness in his gaze. “You know,” you said, trying to fill the silence, “I really appreciate you helping me with this. I know it’s not your usual thing.”

“Don’t think I’m doing this for you,” he shot back, but his tone was less harsh than usual, and you could see the way he fought back a smile. “I just don’t want you to look like a total idiot.”

You giggled as you applied the bleach, careful to follow the instructions. “You say that, but I know you’re secretly enjoying this. I can tell!”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. “I’ll enjoy it even more if it doesn’t take forever. Just don’t mess it up.”

After a while, the bleach was ready to be rinsed out, and as you moved to wash your hair, you caught his eye in the mirror. “See? It’s not so bad being a little creative. Halloween is all about fun!”

Bakugo just shrugged, trying to act tough. “Fun doesn’t mean looking like a clown.”

“Maybe for you,” you teased, splashing some water playfully toward him. He flinched back, eyebrows furrowing as a drop hit his arm.

“Hey! Watch it, idiot!” he snapped, but you could see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

Once your hair was rinsed and ready for the dye, you held up the pink dye with a triumphant grin. “Now for the best part!”

Bakugo crossed his arms again, watching with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “Are you sure this is gonna look good? I don’t want to be the one who has to tell you it’s a disaster.”

“Trust me, it’ll look amazing!” You applied the dye carefully, trying to keep your hands steady as you worked. “And it’ll look even better with your Bowser costume.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied, but you could tell he was softening, that glimmer of interest growing as he watched you work.

When you finished, you stepped back and admired your handiwork in the mirror, your hair now a lovely shade of pastel pink with soft curls framing your face. You turned to Bakugo, your heart racing. “How does it look?”

He stepped closer, scrutinizing your hair with a serious expression. “It actually looks decent,” he admitted, his voice gruff but with a hint of something warmer beneath it. “Not that I care or anything.”

You laughed, your joy spilling over as you turned back to the mirror, fluffing your hair with your hands. “See? I told you it would be worth it!”

“Now you just need a crown or something,” he muttered, still trying to maintain his grumpy facade but failing as he watched you with a hint of pride in his eyes.

“Right! Let’s find some accessories to complete the look. We need to make sure everyone knows who you’re dressed as!” You grabbed a bag filled with random Halloween decorations and began rummaging through it.

As you searched, Bakugo leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a relaxed posture that you didn’t often see. “You really like this, huh?” he asked, almost contemplative.

“Absolutely! It’s my favorite time of year. Plus, spending time with you makes it even better,” you replied, your sincerity shining through.

He glanced away, but you could see the faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. “Don’t go getting all mushy on me,” he grumbled, but there was no bite in his words.

You found a glittery crown that you’d made a few years back and placed it atop your head, spinning around dramatically. “Ta-da! Princess Peach, at your service!” You giggled, trying to mimic a royal voice.

Bakugo couldn’t help but chuckle, his scowl finally breaking. “You look ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously cute!” you shot back, playfully sticking out your tongue. “Now let’s find your Bowser accessories. I’m thinking something fierce!”

You rummaged through the bag until you found a pair of spiky wristbands. “Perfect! These will make you look intimidating!”

Bakugo took them, inspecting them closely before smirking. “I guess they’ll do. Just don’t expect me to act all goofy like you.”

“Aw, come on! Just a little bit of goofy is good for the soul!” you replied, bouncing on your toes with excitement. “How about a scary roar when we show up at the party?”

“Don’t push it,” he warned, but there was an unmistakable spark of mischief in his eyes.

As you moved to adjust the crown in the mirror, you felt a sudden burst of warmth in your heart. You turned to Bakugo, who was staring at you with an intensity that made your stomach flutter. “Thanks for spending time with me today. I know you could be doing anything else.”

He shrugged, a slight smile forming on his lips. “Don’t think it’s because I like you or anything. I just figured I’d make sure you don’t screw this up.”

“Right, right,” you teased, enjoying the banter. “But I’ll take it! Let’s have the best Halloween ever, Bowser and Peach style!”

[random-blep]

I think it would be really funny if kaeya was lying this whole time and he was dying his hair blue

[dvrcos]

Thinking about the Foxes dying their hair orange for finals. Like it starts with the girls doing orange highlights/Renee dying the tips of her hair orange during death matches

And then Matt and Nicky rope themselves in because they think it’s cool as fuck and they want to be apart of it. So Allison and Renee help them bleach their hair and Dan watches for moral support. They dye the tips of Matt’s hair and give Nicky chunky highlights

They try to convince Neil next and it doesn’t work until Matt asks and then he hesitantly agrees. They give him just a little streak of orange right at the front and it just looks like his normal hair but a bit brighter

Kevin is the next to join in because he’s superstitious as fuck and would think if half the team is already doing it than the whole team has to for good luck. Allison and Renee give him a nice ombré of orange over the tips of his hair

The twins are the hardest to convince by far. Kevin and the entire team hound them for a week. Aaron agrees finally just so Kevin stops bitching at him every spare breath and somehow Neil gets Andrew on board because he’s Neil and “just asked”

Aaron dyes the undercut of his hair orange and Andrew gets little fox paw prints on the shaved part of his head (so he can shave them off as soon as the seasons over). The orange is bright as fuck on their hair too since their natural hair is so light. And they both think it’s obnoxious but are team players

It definitely becomes a tradition after that and if they make it to finals Wymack and Abby surprise them by dying their hair (and Wymack temporarily dyes his beard)

[lalunanymph]

RIN ITOSHI AND DOWN BAD!!!

𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐁𝐀𝐃 [*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dawn.🕹️ ttpd]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ one breakdown. a sudden realization.

I’m staying at my parents’ tonight. Don’t call me. 

9 hours ago. That was Rin’s last message to you. 

The sky above was turning, grey clouds lingering on the horizon like the thickening of a warning smog. Growing up on this side of town, the smell of asphalt assaulting your nose was a constant, and it mingles with the carnage of your writhing emotions.

Picking up your pace, you try to leave the thought of Rin behind in the dust.

Taking the stairs two at a time, you reach the double glass doors, pushing it aside to be surrounded by the smell of iron, sweat and bleach. 

A run would be the best thing for your mind.

Booting up the treadmill, you stretch across the bars, unloosening the knots in your back; giving your glutes a tight squeeze with alternative leg lift ups. 

The pounding of your running shoe-clad feet on the belt filled your mind with white noise—the music blaring from your earphones helping to drown out the pain clawing its way through your chest.

But, no matter how much you tried to move forward, you could never forget. 

The greasy sensation lingering heavily in your bones heaves and twists, a child in the corner begging for mom to turn and acknowledge it. Throwing plates shattering to the floor; fingerprints drenched in blood red of neglect streaking across pristine white walls.

You lean forward, slamming the pause button. Almost flying off the treadmill, grab the handles and double down, clutching your torso, sweat and tears stinging down your cheeks. 

There was no one to watch your breakdown, the clock showing 2 in the morning; flashing 24-hour neon sign at the doorway blinking apathetically in your teary vision. 

For a long moment, you stayed down on the ground, sniffling quietly.

Once the tears dried up, you picked up your phone, checking your messages. 

Predictably (even if it made your stomach fall to your feet), Rin hadn’t texted you. You stared at his name, at his photo—his pretty teal eyes half-closed, disgruntled shade of amusement at your surprise kiss on his cheek as you ambushed him with this photo.

Never would you have anticipated he would make it his main contact picture.

Loving Rin existed in shades of grey and fractions of light which you tend to miss if you didn’t look fast enough. A fond look, a secret smile.

You missed his every fleeting show of affection. 

But, how long could something so perfect be kept behind the scenes without deteriorating from a lack of light and affection?

I can’t believe you would think I was cheating on you because of some rumour, he seethes from the couch. I come back home to you, don’t I? You’re being too fucking sensitive and unreasonable. If you hate me, you can say it right to my face rather than making this more difficult for me. You’re such a hassle. I’m leaving.

Barely giving you time to take back your words or give your pain more breathing ground for understanding. 

Rin took his keys, wallet and half of your heart out of your shared apartment’s door; unwittingly breaking your entire trust in him in a fell swoop.

You blinked the moisture from your eyes, staring at the carpeted floor. 

Your phone vibrated, and you rubbed your eyes, reading his message over and over again.

I’m sorry. I hate fighting with you. I’m on my way back home. Can we talk? 

You stare at your phone; outside at the inky sky unleashing a deluge of rain which splatters across the high windows. Rin was never this persistent unless he knew he had fucked up big time.

Baby? Are you there? Can we talk? 

The vibration of an incoming call. Without thinking it through, you declined the call. 

If he wanted to tell you what's on his mind, he could do it face-to-face.

(Did you even want to see him again?)

Hey, I know you’re angry at me, but at least let’s talk this out. I know the season’s been hard on both of us. I don’t want us to end like this. 

You read his texts silently, not responding. 

Another call. Another tap of the red button. 

Baby, stop ignoring me. I was stupid with my words. I said some really stupid stuff. Don’t be angry anymore and let’s talk this out.

The pitter pattering of rain fills your mind with static, keeping you on a loop of his last words and the ones you can’t seem to focus on the smeared screen. 

Mechanically, you read through his text, seeing the chat bubble disappear and reappear—never did three dots make you feel close enough to have a stroke. 

Your baited breath follows on the tail of his next message:

I still love you. I love us. I’m so sorry.

A wave of loss overtakes you, the next message you type out with shaky fingers sent straight into the void—blue speech bubbles turning grey once you begin the process of removing Rin bit by bit from your life; clicking on the ‘block’ button to refuse these crumbs of affection you couldn’t starve yourself on anymore. 

I’m sorry, too. Please, don’t come home. Goodbye, Rin.

©️ lalunanymph

[pettypiastri]

gentle hands find tender hearts — lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader summary - day 1 of testing leaves Lando sore and seeking comfort word count - 2.2k warnings - language, allusions to reader insecurity, otherwise none! note - first piece for f1, please be nice! basically just idiots in love but they're not in denial and are already dating. blame Lando's yt channel for the brainrot and info i've loosely based this on. drop by the inbox, would love to discuss all your thoughts about your fave vroom vroom boys (anons are on) 🤍 feedback always appreciated!

Seeing the green verification light flash on the hotel room card reader might be the best thing Lando’s seen all day. Decidedly the best thing he’s seen since leaving you, a vision in his shirt, behind in the crisply air conditioned room, a sleepy smile on your face after he pressed a final kiss to your forehead. Which, notably, he’d only managed to find after a two-handed effort to sort through your messy hair swathing your face and neck. He’d traded all that in for the Bahrain humidity that’s somehow made itself a home in the aching in his head and the weight he still feels bearing on his neck. Seeing you now, just as pretty as this morning, he’s certain a ‘meh’ day 1 of pre-season testing did not make up for what he’d left behind at 6:45. Not even close.

You’re perched on the king sized bed, white hotel bedding bleached beyond identity, with a book in your hand and Lando wants to cry. Or maybe huff frustratedly. At the very least kiss you immediately. The smile you give Lando upon seeing his head of deflated curls peek around the wall, the one you always give him that reaches your eyes and consumes his soul, has his shoulders sagging. More than 100 laps and hours of data threaten to finally crush him as he drags himself toward you, items falling from his hands in time with his steps. Bucket hat, wallet, key card until it's just him, drained and pouty, eager to demand your comfort. Blindly you dog ear your page, cataloging his schlumpy movements. 

“What’s wrong gorgeous?” 

A resounding ‘oomph’ leaves your chest as your boyfriend falls against your frame. Strong hands reach under your hoodie seeking soft skin. Even though Lando’s been in the heat all day, it’s nothing like the toe curling, soul unfurling warmth you can provide. These days, he always seems to feel a chill in his chest when you’re not around. 

“Shit day,” he grumbles, fabric sticking to his parted lips as he snuggles against your chest. Overwhelming fondness makes your heart ache, a playful quip is briefly delayed. As a distraction, your hands gravitate to mirror his, wrapping around his broad shoulders and back. One comb of your fingers through his mangy curls has them frizzing up, tendrils reaching out to tickle your nose. 

“Oh, s’that all?” A sharp pinch between your ribs in retaliation has you tightening your grip in Lando’s hair. Your free flowing giggle encourages Lando to elaborate, his traitorous smile hidden against fabric. 

“ ‘M sore. Back, neck… pride.” On instinct, your hand in his hair dips to the natural resting place on the back of his neck. A pensive hum settles on his ears.

“Hmm… Well, suppose you’re lucky you’ve got a girlfriend then.” 

A truly minimal effort grumble of confusion is all you get in response. Lando, tired and grumpy, never fails to make you smile. It’s why, with great effort, you wiggle down the bed with him still on top of you, crumpling pillows and pulling up the bottom sheet in your wake, so you can be nose to nose with him. His beautiful baby blues, with a streak of exhaustion, a fleck of frustration, and a halo of tenderness, crack open to regard you. Droopy lids are held open by a combative fondness that overpowers the weight of unmet expectations. You kiss him languidly, a need to rush nowhere to be found. Despite your initiation, you part your lips easily for him letting him control the moment how he wants. Lando always kisses you like it's his last chance, in a way that makes you feel it from your stomach down to your toes. Sometimes you find yourself crossing your fingers that you make him feel the same. 

Upon breaking apart you coax him gently, “Lay on your stomach for me? Let me take care of you.”

And Lando resigns to let you. Happily. Defenselessly. Completely. Because you always take care of him. After Sochi, after Carlos left, whenever he loses sight of himself. Your unyielding arms are always ajar for him to crash into.

Lando proves to be absolutely no help as you try to shimmy his hoodie off him, his face pressed into one of four available pillows, arms curled above his head. Your level of struggle makes you giggle, then laugh from your chest, a whine of his name mixed in. Half a cheeky smile is visible from Lando as he peeks an eye open to regard you. He lifts one arm begrudgingly and then the other, allowing you to successfully free his torso.

Gently you lay the hoodie to your side and scan his lean back. You watch his shoulders flex as he shifts again to get fully comfortable, the dimples in his lower back popping in and out. His golden skin, a tan you watched bloom over a long offseason, calls for your careful touch. 

One of your thighs raises to straddle the backs of his, finding a comfortable position atop his legs. As if in anticipation of your tenderness, an adorable sigh whistles out through Lando’s nose. Moving just by instinct, your careful hands start at the small of his back, digging in just enough with your thumbs to coax the tension out. Briefly you wonder if the tiny hiss Lando lets out is one of appreciation or if hours in the air conditioned hotel room have left your extremities just on the wrong side of chilly. You’re reassured when a more full chested sigh escapes your boyfriend upon your hands reaching the apex of his shoulders in one long motion of your hands. The look of contentment is already beginning to set in on Lando’s striking face as you continue carefully in fluid, albeit improvised, movements. 

There is a stillness in the room that welcomes the almost inaudible efforts of your hands pushing into his muscles and grants permission for your mind to wander. A dull hum from the air conditioning unit aims to harmonize with Lando’s consistent sighs. On instinct you itch to trace a pattern between his birthmarks, taking a moment to appreciate even the smallest parts of him. 

As now warmed fingers detour from their ritualistic path up his back, you stop at one mole, marveling that it looks the exact same shade of brown as the coffee was on your second date. A cup of which had steamed up between your eyes as you glanced sheepishly over the porcelain rim at him, hoping he couldn’t see you staring. The waitress had led with ‘how cute a couple the two of you make’ before informing you it was closing time. Lando had not corrected her. Instead he’d offered you his jacket before walking you home. You’d kissed him before you even made it to your street. The tableau, illuminated by a dusty streetlamp, saw you pushing him back with a hand on his chest when you realized you wouldn’t be able to stop if you carried on a second longer. Lando had found it sickeningly endearing. 

Another birthmark on your course upwards is a bit lighter, more oval, something like the dirt track he had taken you to watch rallying at with his siblings last winter. You’d shared lip gloss with one of his sisters and been asked for advice on the boy problems of the other. Lando’s brother Oliver realized he didn't even have to ask how serious things were when he’d caught Lando staring at you when he thought no one was watching. Oliver had leant over to ask him a question, only to find Lando didn’t even know who the race leader was as he’d practically not taken his eyes off you. You, just existing. Eager eyes darting around attentively at the flurries of dirt before you, your hand on Lando’s wrist, spinning the bracelet his Nan gifted him with absentminded ease. Later he’d watched Lando take about 30 photos of you as you wandered the merch booths and food stands, all of which you were none the wiser to and Oliver knew you never would be. 

The birthmark just at the base of his neck is the one you noticed peeking out from his t-shirt late one warm night in Monaco. When your eyes yearned to fix on something stable. Something safe. Lando’s hand had reached back for yours as he lead you through the Monaco streets. You’d linked your pinky with his, too shy to feel the warmth of his whole hand in yours. He’d driven the two of you around in his Jolly, for once abiding by the speed postings; he was in no rush with you. You recall being envious of the wind ruffling his hair, wishing it was you instead. The hand he placed on your exposed thigh had you looking the opposite direction to hide your glowing cheeks.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, you scooch to sit over the center of Lando’s back, bringing his strong neck into an accessible range. Your thumbs dig into the sides, freestyling a way to massage such a random part of the body in such desperate need of TLC. His curls that you’ve worshiped, pulled on, and braided for the past years are welcomed into the special treatment with your fingers sliding against his scalp before beginning at the base of his neck again.

Lando had looked at you sideways when you’d once commented on his strong neck being one of your favorite features of his. Refusal to elaborate was betrayed by your full body flush and flitting eyes as he leaned over you, hands settling on the arms of the chair you were sat in. That was just last month; he still makes you nervous. 

Nervous in the way that makes your breath catch and your palms clam up. Nervousness akin more to anticipation than anything else; woven with glee and eagerness. Something like you feel right now, realizing you haven’t kissed him in 15 minutes and your hands are starting to cramp. Leaning down, you press a peck to his exposed cheek, Lando’s cologne filling your nose. For someone you thought was asleep, his eye cracks open the instant your lips part from his skin. 

Lando regards you for just a moment before, with much difficulty given his current position and slight delirium, moving to wrangle you so you’re lying down chest to chest with him. One of his arms drapes over your neck, hand planted behind your head, creating a little bubble made just for your heads. Something unrupturable and uninterrupted where he can stare at you without needing a reason.

The eyes you’re met with are droopy, full of contentment, and overflowing with affection. It’s a look that you used to think you’d never receive from someone else. But Lando’s never been afraid to be loud with his love. It took some time, some proof of dedication from him that the beaming smile and honest eyes were not a fluke, for you to bloom. Now when you’re with him, you don’t care who’s looking. You love who you are in his company, how unafraid to occupy space you become. It draws you to place your hand on his stubbled cheek (that you will not stop teasing him about) and stroke your thumb slowly over his skin. On instinct Lando nuzzles closer, so eager to be doted on by you. His lips find yours in an intimate kiss. 

“Thank you baby,” he murmurs, words meant just for you, so soft they would’ve been mistaken for a flicker of the moonlight had you not been paying attention. 

You assume he means for the massage. He assumes you know it’s for everything else: all the support and love and devotion you show him. It’s bliss with you. Lando had gotten over trying to fight against the never-ending spiral of longing, lust, and love in every moment, word, and movement with you, a long time ago. Now he welcomes drowning in your smile and voice and touch. He yearns for the overwhelming clench in his chest and weightlessness of his body. He’s given himself over completely to you in hopes of his demise at the sight of your warm eyes and the way you say his name.

Lando finds his heart squeezing again just from looking at you, curled against him in a random Hilton somewhere in the Middle East. The only remedy, the only distraction is to kiss you again, gently but full of meaning. It makes you blush, afire under his adoring gaze, feeling so safe but exposed, heart bared fully to him. 

In the sacred hush of your hotel room you scoot just a fraction until your nose skims his, eyes fluttering closed. Upturned lips brush against yours involuntarily. 

A deep exhale leaves Lando’s nose, tickling the peach fuzz of your upper lip. It conveys total peace and comfort. It says somehow, this is all he needs. This is how life looks for him when his mind wanders to years his senior. Maybe there’s more noise around your little bubble, more feet, decidedly smaller than the both of yours, leaving prints on your hearts. But you and him together like this? It’s constant, transcendent of location or hardship or outside noise. You and him together like this, with 'I love you's' as the night's lullaby, is not just enough, it’s everything.

[aweina]

౨ৎ. UNDER HIS HOODIE ( suggestive ) ; mike schmidt

tags fem reader. established relationship. possessive + jealous behavior. awkwardness. implied sex + 1.1k words.

mike never let’s you answer the front door, not anymore at least. it was that time when he heard a striking knock on the door — giving your neck a soft kiss before lazily mumbling for you to get the door for him, barely registering the sight of your bare legs and the purplish hues on your skin.

you quietly complied with a dazed smile, rubbing your cold thighs together as you pattered towards the door — halfheartedly tugging at the hem of mike’s hoodie over your bruised neck as you threaded your fingers through the teased strands, rubbing off inky tear stains from your flushed cheeks with another hand.

the door opened slowly, revealing a blonde woman in an officer uniform. the buzzed feeling of after sex transformed into a state of alarm — the aching slouch on your back straightened within a blink of an eye.

it was her. the officer who likes to pry in your boyfriend’s business.

the tapping of her dirty leather boots seemed like she was on a time crunch. arms defensively crossed over her chest, a deadpan look in her face. then her bored blue eyes widened, lingering at your lustrous appearance. the jacket you sported was dark and baggy, blotches of bleach stains dispersed around the thick sleeves and edge of the hood. the smell was familiar too. fresh linen with a hint of herbal cologne. it was his jacket, mike’s.

with the cold zipper pulled down, the peak of your pink bra and cotton underwear was shown beneath the baggy fabric. blossoms of purple and red marking your neck and even sprinkled between the plushness of your bare thighs. your hair was frizzy and tangled, the light smudge of melted makeup painted your face. vanessa couldn’t help but chuckle, her guard faltering.

you looked up and down with a suspicious look, tucking your hands into the warm pockets of his jacket — leaning against the painted cracked doorway. there was an awkward stare down, until vanessa finally spoke up.

“i’ve never seen you before.” she says it like it’s a fact, smiling with a tinge of annoyance.

“neither have i,” you merely replied, shrugging your shoulders with your lips pressed into a flat line.

vanessa raised a brow at that, shifting towards one foot over the other — sensing the tension and maddening heat radiating off your body.

“well … it’s just mike never told me about a girlfriend.” vanessa explains further, a slight strain in her words. you rest your head on the doorframe, a snarky laugh escaping your smudged lips.

“is there any reason he would need to?” if it was possible, your eyes would’ve been glowing with crimson anger.

vanessa shook her head — her blonde locks swaying as she did.

"no, just a little surprised," she admitted, her gaze darting between your defiant stance and your bra strap slowly sliding down.

the silent air hangs thick once again, the standoff between you and vanessa alerting mike from his restless cooking — muttering curses as he wipes his sauce-coated hands before fixing his messy curls.

with an exasperated laugh, mike swoops in between the two of you — covering your exposed form with his clothed body as he tosses an awkward smile to vanessa.

“h – hey vanessa. what’s up?” mike can feel the burning glare on the back of his head, but he simply grasps your hand with a soothing warmth.

“had fun last night?” vanessa quips, watercolor eyes lingering towards the lipstick smudge on his neck and the deep bite marks trailing underneath the loose fitted shirt. she couldn’t even ignore the streaks of red staining his wrists, obviously clawed by your sharp nails.

mike opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed too shy to utter a word. yeah, he’ll admit, it was obvious the both of you had sex.

finally finding the courage to project his voice, mike slowly nods, scratching the back of his marked neck nervously. "uh, yeah, it was ... eventful."

you quietly peered over the tense scene, tugging away from his restraint to wrap your arms firmly around his waist — resting your head teasingly against his shoulder. there was a sly smile plastered on your rosy lips, hearing mike’s quiet groan from your sudden embrace.

“mike is busy, can you please leave officer vanessa?” you added a playful pout to your venom-laced request, casting an exaggerated look of annoyance at vanessa.

mike shifted uncomfortably under the weight of menacing stare down, trapped between your flush, bare body and the half opened door — under the judgment of vanessa’s knowing gaze. he feigns a small cough, an apologetic smile forced on his blushing face, silently mouthing a “sorry” towards the officer.

vanessa nods in assurance, noticing your rogue touches lingering beneath mike’s waistband. he stumbles a bit, holding your hands in place with a firm grip.

“a – alright. i will.” she holds back an amused laugh as she peers up at the blush ridden mike then to your cold glare, immediately turning towards mike. “so mike … i’ll see you tomorrow around —”

before vanessa could finish her sentence, the door was forced shut with a loud slam — your foot being the culprit for the disruption.

mike cringes and turns around, meeting your sparkling eyes and forced smile — the corners twitching with aggression. he cannot help but chuckle at your possessiveness, wrapping his own arms around your neck as he gives your jaw a soft kiss.

mike cringes and turns around, meeting your sparkling eyes and forced smile — the corners twitching with aggression. he cannot help but chuckle at your possessiveness, wrapping his own arms around your neck as he gives your jaw a soft kiss.

“seriously?” mike mumbles as he leans in to add another mark, tasting your honeyed perfume while he tugs your tight skin between his teeth. your aggression seems to melt under his mouth.

“she’s nosey.” you whine in his ear, scrambling to grasp on his curls when he suckles on a sweet spot.

“she’s harmless … i think.” mike mouths against your freshly marked jaw, ogling down at your soft breasts and thighs — spilling out the tightness of your revealing garments, shadowed by the wrinkles of his jacket.

he pulls away, a sheepish look on his face. mike brushes through the thick knots of your hair — a little reminder when it was threaded between his fingertips, every tug sent you whimpering and singing his name through the night.

“but just don’t … don’t open the door without any clothes this time.” he begs, zipping up his jacket to preserve last night’s activity — a little too late to feign modesty. “or answer the door at all.”

you smirked as you turned towards the kitchen, continuing mike’s cooking routine that was luckily not smothered in flames and spiced smoke.

“no promises mikey.” your smug answer left mike grinning, defeatedly locking the front door with a loud click.

© aweina : please do not copy, repost, or modify any of my content.

[sluttyten]

Little Shop of Wonders

Kinktober Day 8 | Kun Masterlist | Member Masterlist

tags: sex pollen, free use, consensual free use, fuck toy, shower sex, lots of cum, facefucking, masturbation, bukkake, cunnilingus, blowjobs, slight exhibitionism, subspace

length: 5971

The bell over the door jingled as you pushed it open, stepping foot inside the shop. 

You’d never noticed this place before. An old shop with big glass window displays filled with plants and crystals, its heavy wooden door recessed from the street, an old brass lantern hung above the door offering only a small puddle of flickering light over the doormat. 

“Welcome,” the doormat had scrawled across it, “to the Little Shop of Wonders.”

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it was a cool, damp October night, and the shop looked like a dry place to wait for your boyfriend. 

Kun had an appreciation for magic. Usually, he favored card tricks, sleight of hand, but he’d shown you before that he was intrigued by more magical magic. He would like this place, too, so you texted him the address since he was already on the way to pick you up from work. 

From deep in the recesses of the store, you hear a woman’s voice call out, “Welcome! Have a look around, and I’ll be there to help you shortly!” 

The store is very old, if you had to guess. The floors are hardwood, bleached by ages of sunlight, dry and dusty with each step you take. The boards creak, and even when you pass over a thick rug, the floor groans beneath you, belching up dust. Dried flowers and herbs hang from the rafters. Strings of lights drape the edges of the room, occasionally cross-crossing the space in between. You spot more of those brass lanterns hanging at the ends of heavy wooden bookcases, the shelves of which are weighed down with heavy tomes and knick knacks that range from crystals and cute animal carvings to disturbingly realistic wooden figurines of people and a skull with a candle melted atop it. 

This place gives you the creeps while simultaneously pulling you in deeper. It feels like magic. It tingles over your skin, smelling sweet. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking around before you hear the door jingle in the distance. 

You bump into a viney potted plant on the floor, and a cat bolts out of the shadows, streaking through a gap in the shelves. You follow the cat, discovering that it’s leading you back into the center of the store from where you’d drifted to the back edges. You can see the front door, the misty blue twilight sky outside the front windows. 

Kun stands in the doorway, framed by that eerie light, though the light of the lantern glows on his face, radiant. 

“There you are,” he says with a grin, stepping inside the store fully. “What kind of place have you found?”

“Welcome to the Little Shop of Wonders,” says the same woman’s voice as before, although now it sounds as though she’s floating above you. 

You twist around, looking up at the ceiling, and you find her. She’s a wiry older woman, her curling gray hair tumbling around her shoulders, a long skirt and apron swishing around her legs as she very carefully balances and navigates her way across the beams. 

When you look back at Kun, he’s watching her with a bemused expression, which shifts to that of one impressed when the woman leaps down from the beam and lands lightly on her feet. 

She brushes her hands off on her apron, and looks at the pair of you with a wide, warm, inviting smile on her face. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Her hands go to her hips, and she looks the pair of you over, her gaze studying the way you gravitate towards each other. “What can I help you with?”

“Oh.” You and Kun glance at each other, and then you say, “We’re just looking around.”

The woman nods her head. “Of course! If you look long enough, whatever you’re meant to have in here will jump out at you.”

You take Kun’s hand, and for a little while you browse the shelves, occasionally coming across a cat or the witchy woman herself, humming as she passes through different areas of the shop. 

Finally, after you feel that you’ve spent nearly an hour together looking at the small oddities and interests in the store, you realize that it’s time you leave so you can get home. But Kun’s interested in the live plants the woman has sitting beside a window towards the back of the shop. He brushes his fingers along a blush pink leaf, lifts his fingers along the stem, and cups one of the curved bloodred petals.

“I’d be careful with that one, if I were you.” The woman appears suddenly at your elbow, nudging her way between you and Kun. She cups the plant’s pot in her hands, lifting it gently. “This one’s a powerful aphrodisiac. Quite a strong stimulant.” 

Kun peeks at you over her head. You stifle a giggle against your hand. 

“Doubt me if you like,” she warns, “But this plant’s pollen is known to cause intense arousal when ingested. Whether that means if the residue is on your skin, or if it’s contained within a bottle of honey.” 

Suddenly she’s lifting a hand, a small vial of glinting golden honey sits in her palm. 

“Are you saying that’s a bottle of sex honey?” You ask, trying to keep from laughing.

The woman’s mouth tightens. “Yes, dear. Essentially. A taste of this honey, and you and your boy would be bound to fall into bed together. THat’s why I have it labeled for sale over in the love and sex section of the shop. Now, if you ingest the pollen directly, say if he were to lick his fingers now after having touched the plant, the effects would be much stronger. Arousal lasting days, possibly.”

Again, Kun catches your eye over the woman’s head, and you watch your boyfriend daringly lift his hand to his lips, and he pops his index and middle finger both into his mouth.

“Oh, darling….” The witchy woman shakes her head while looking at Kun. She quickly sits the plant back down among the others, and she waves her hand towards the front door of the shop. “You should leave now. Good luck. And you, my dear,” she says with a look in your direction, “You may want to purchase a bottle of the honey, just so you can keep up with him.”

“I think we’ll be fine, but thank you.” You wrap your arm around Kun’s and walk towards the door with him, calling over your shoulder to her, “Maybe if this goes as well as you’re promising, we’ll be back for some of that sex honey.”

You swear that instead of swinging gently shut as it had when you opened it, the door slams behind you as you and Kun step out onto the sidewalk outside the Little Shop of Wonders.

“Come on.” Kun slides his hand down into yours, leading you away to where his car is parked. “Let’s get home.”

On the ride home, you both laugh about the woman’s warnings. It just sounds so silly, the things she was saying. Kun keeps sucking on his fingers, saying that he’s still waiting for it to kick in like she promised, that from the sound of it, he’ll need to fuck you as soon as you get home, but it must be slow acting. “I’m not even a little bit hard, yet. Maybe her plant isn’t working right. Not that I need the help, but she’s made it sound like one taste of the pollen and I’m going to be rock hard for days.”

You laugh, tipping your head against the seat to watch as Kun flicks his tongue between the V of his index and middle finger. “Kun, I promise, if you’re rock hard for days, if this pollen truly works as well as she’s said, you can fuck me however, wherever, as often as you want.”

“I have free use of you?” Kun’s teasing, looking over at you as he rolls the car to a stop at a light. “You’d be my little fuck toy?”

“Anything for you, Kun.” You’re playing, but some part of you is actually serious. You love Kun. Since you started dating him, you’ve wanted him a ridiculous amount. It’s only because you can’t constantly be on his dick that you haven’t let on to him how horny you frequently are. You’ve tried to tone it down, but honestly, giving him free use to fuck you however and wherever and whenever he likes is exactly what you’ve needed all this time.

If only the ridiculous notion of sex pollen was real and not just the imaginary creation of some batty woman in a mysterious shop.

When you get home, you hop in the shower while Kun starts to prepare dinner.

You’ve been in there for only about five minutes, when the door to the bathroom opens. You pull the shower curtain back a bit, peeking out into the steamy bathroom. Kun’s right there, already climbing into the shower, yanking the curtain back shut behind him as he backs you towards the wall. 

“What’s this?” You giggle, reaching for his arm. “Did the pollen kick in or something?”

“Yeah,” Kun murmurs, and then his lips are on yours, his hands on your hips. 

You can’t believe he’s really going along with this, playing into it just to have shower sex. You let him spin you around so your chest and cheek are against the wall. Kun pulls one of your arms behind your back, the other you lift above your head to brace yourself a bit. 

“Any time, anywhere, that’s what you said right?” Kun confirms as he grinds forward against your ass. 

“Mhmm,” you moan, rolling your hips back to meet his movements. “Yes, Kun.”

His mouth moves fiery hot over your bare shoulder, his skin hot against yours everywhere he touches. “Perfect.”

And then he’s thrusting forward, driving his cock between your legs, rutting forward again and again until his cock slides inside you.

With no prep, it burns a little, but you like it. You like when Kun gets a little rough from time to time. Like right now, when he just starts plunging into you with these big thrusts, clearly just chasing his own orgasm. His hand holds yours against your lower back.The shower spraying down on you both has your skin all slippery, your bound hands sliding with each of Kun’s powerful thrusts. 

Your moans echo around the bathroom, and Kun’s breaths come hard and fast against your ear. 

Kun presses up against your back, pinning you between him and the wall, his weight bearing down on you as he fucks into you. Each press of his cock inside you, each catch of his breath against your ear, the heat in your belly stirs a little more. But it doesn’t stir as quickly as Kun, he cums with his mouth against your throat, his body flush against yours. 

One of his hands slides around down your belly, down between your legs, fingers against your clit as he thrusts several more times. Kun fucks his cum deeper inside you, gliding against your G spot while stimulating your clit, and you fall apart in his arms, feeling like you’re dissolving into sweet bliss as he keeps rocking his hips forward and tracing his fingers over your sensitive clit.

He keeps going until you’re whining, until he’s spilling inside you again.

Your legs shake as you actually put them into use again. Kun steps back, leaving you empty and on your own two feet. He rinses off quickly, running a hand down his body, over his cock. You twist around to watch him, biting your lip as you watch his hand run along his cock.

“Keep looking at me like that, babe, and I’m going to have to feed you something other than the dinner I started.” He leans in quickly, dropping a kiss to your lips, and then he steps out of the shower, calling back to you, “Shower quickly, dinner should be ready in a few minutes.”

You finish your shower, dry off, dress in a camisole and cotton shorts, then you head to the kitchen.

Kun’s standing at the counter, chopping a few toppings for the stew he’s made. You walk up behind him, wrap your arms around him and lay your head against his bare shoulder. He’s only wearing sweatpants that hang low on his hips. You run your hand over his bare belly, up his chest, and back down to the edge of his sweatpants. 

Kun sits the knife aside. 

You turn your head, brushing your lips over his warm skin. Kun lets out a shaky breath. You let your pinky finger tuck beneath the edge of his sweatpants.

“It smells good,” you tell him. “I’m ready to eat.”

Kun’s hand trembles as he picks up the knife again, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder, watching as he tries to chop up the last few ingredients. And then you notice.

He’s really so warm, his skin flaming hot beneath your cheek.

“Kun?” You take a step to the side, peering at his face, lifting a hand to his cheek. “Are you sick? You feel feverish.”

His eyes are dark when he looks at you. His pupils are blown wide, and he nearly moans at the cool press of your fingers against his warm cheek. “I’m not sick. I feel fine, except I don’t think that lady was lying about the pollen. I’m still so hard, babe, it hasn’t gone down at all.” 

You look down to his sweatpants, at his cock that’s still ragingly hard, tenting the front of his pants.

Your mouth fills with saliva, and you lift your gaze back up to meet your boyfriend’s. You swallow to keep yourself from drooling when you say, “I meant what I said in the car, Kun. However, wherever, as often as you like. I can take it. Use me as your fucktoy.”

“Fuck.” Kun sits the knife aside again, and he reaches for you, twisting his fingers in your hair, and he forces you to your knees. 

Your mouth drops open as Kun uses his free hand to push his sweatpants down. His hard, heavy cock springs free, already wet at the tip, leaking a crystalline thread of precum. You don’t need Kun’s hand in your hair to guide you; you dive forward, catching the falling bead on your tongue and following it up to the source, sucking Kun’s cockhead in. 

That’s when he takes over, hand pressing against the back of your head, forcing you deeper on his cock. His hips jerk forward at the same time, triggering your gag reflex as he hits the back of your throat. Not that that stops him, if anything it encourages him to go harder, faster, and you take it all, hungry for his cock shoved down your throat even as your eyes begin to water, as your jaw and throat ache from the repeated pressure. You slurp around him as he starts to drag your mouth off of his cock. His fingers tight in your hair, Kun allows you a brief breath before he’s fucking back into your mouth.

You’re drooling all over his cock as Kun holds the back of your head, fucking his cock into the deep warmth of your throat. And when he cums, he just keeps going, filling your mouth and shooting down the back of your throat, it leaks from the corners of your lips, and you think you’re going crazy because you want more.

Kun drags you off his cock by your hair.

Spit and cum and tears streak your face, dripping from your chin as you look up at Kun. 

He releases his hold on your hair to run his thumb under your bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful, babe. Get up, here you go.” Kun offers you his hand, and you slide your palm against his as he pulls you up to your feet. “Good girl, now sit down. It’s time for dinner.”

You obediently sit at the table, still a little fucked-dumb, still dripping his cum even when Kun serves you a bowl of the stew he made. It smells heavenly, rich with spices, and you dig in, the flavors of it only made better with the added flavor of Kun’s cum lingering on your tongue.

Kun pretty much inhales his helping of the stew, and he doesn’t even wait for you to finish eating before he’s walking over to you. You’re quite hungry, so you don’t want him to pull you away from the meal, even though you can see his cock still bulging his sweatpants, staining them with a spot of precum. 

“Keep eating, babe,” Kun tells you, reaching out to stroke your hair. “You need to eat to keep up your strength. If what the lady said is true, I’m probably gonna be like this for a few days.” 

You think back to him sucking the pollen residue off his fingers, licking his hands clean. Who knows how much he ingested?

You eat a spoonful of stew, eyeing his erection out of the corner of your eye. Is he just going to stand there and not take care of it? You look up at Kun, and it’s a horny little demon inside you that speaks with your voice, saying, “You don’t have to wait for me to finish eating, Kun. Until this wears off, I’m yours to do what you want with me.”

His cock twitches in his pants. Kun groans.

“Do you mean that, though? Really?” 

You nod. “Anything you want. Within reason. No bringing anyone else into this–”

“I don’t want to share you!” Kun interjects.

You continue, “Nothing that we haven’t talked about before.”

Kun smirks at that. “Well, that pretty much leaves everything on the table, then doesn’t it?” He strokes your hair again. “All I want right now is to cover you in my cum, babe, head to toe. I want to fuck you in every room in this house, fuck you until we both pass out. I want to treat you like my doll.”

You turn back to your bowl of stew. You shrug, “Then do it, Kun.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him draw his cock out of his pants. You watch him start stroking his cock, but you focus on eating your stew, blowing on it to cool it off, taking your time to lick the spoon clean after each bite. You eat the stew like your pussy isn’t throbbing with arousal watching Kun jerk off inches away from your face. 

He cums again when you’ve got your spoon halfway to your mouth. Kun’s cum streaks over your cheek, landing in your hair, across your lips, some of it hits your spoon and your hand. You eat that spoonful too, enjoying the extra salty addition of his cum to it. Kun keeps stroking his length, a few last spurts striping your cheek as you reach for the bowl. You lift it to your lips, quickly draining what little is left because as soon as it’s gone, as soon as you’ve sat the bowl down, Kun is pulling you to your feet.

When he moves you so your ass is on the edge of the table, you expect Kun to push your shorts to the side and slide his cock right inside you.

You don’t expect Kun to sink to his knees, for him to tear your shorts down around your ankles, and bury his face between your thighs. He spreads your legs with a hand on each thigh, massaging them as he licks at your pussy, as he fucks his tongue into you, as he sucks at your clit and licks up your wetness as you’re drenching his tongue, writhing against his face, needing more and more.

Kun moans loudly, eating you out in the most noisy manner he ever has. 

You cum on his tongue, hands knotted in his hair as you ride it out, grinding against Kun’s face.

“If this is what we have in store,” you gasp as Kun licks a strip up your pussy one more time, “I think I could get used to this. You’ve never given better head, honestly. I need you to be this horny all the time if it means I get eaten out like that.”

Kun scatters kisses over your thighs. “We’re just getting started, babe.” 

- - -

For the rest of the night, Kun has you sit on his lap, cockwarming him while you watch a movie together. 

Kun’s hands are constantly moving – stroking along your thighs, dipping to touch your clit while forcing you to sit still on him; he pulls the neckline of your camisole down to expose your tits, and he teases your nipples until you’re whimpering and fighting the urge to fuck yourself on his cock. But as soon as you get desperate enough to beg for it, Kun stops.

He’ll have you sit up, kneeling above his lap with just the head of his cock still buried in your pussy as he jerks off, cumming inside you so he can watch it drip back out of your pussy. Instead of letting you cum, when you’re teetering on the edge, he’ll have you kneel on the floor, cockwarm him with your mouth instead so he can cum across your tongue and cheeks again, adding even more to the mess he’d made at dinner. He edges you again, and then he fucks your tits, cumming across them then taking his time afterwards to clean it up with his tongue, feeding it back to you and watching you swallow everything before he returns his tongue to your nipples, flicking his tongue over the hardened buds until you’re rocking your hips up off the sofa restlessly.

Kun cums more times than you can keep track of, and you take all of the cum he gives you, hungrily sucking his cock, feeling him fill your pussy, spreading his cum across your tits with your fingers, moaning as he shoots his load across your back while he’s got his fingers inside you.

Kun edges you through it all until finally your body can’t take anymore, and you cum around him while Kun’s got you riding him. He’s hugging you to his chest, his mouth locked with yours, and he is once again spilling into you when your orgasm finally explodes through you.

You don’t remember him carrying you to the bathroom, don’t remember Kun rinsing off with you in the shower, or when he carries you to bed. You remember only a brief glimpse of his cock finally going soft when he settles into bed beside you.

And you think that’s it. 

The sex pollen ran its course.

You’re a little bit disappointed at that thought, truly. When you wake in the morning to pale sunlight, you check on your sleeping boyfriend, and Kun is all spread out beside you. He’s kicked away the sheets in his sleep, and although he still feels warm to the touch, his cock is soft against his thigh. 

You know maybe you should feel like you had enough yesterday. The never-ending edging paired with the amount of fucking you and excessive cumming Kun had done should have satisfied you. But you were having fun. You liked Kun treating you like a cumdump.

Maybe you should go back to the Little Shop of Wonders, ask the witch for that vial of honey or maybe purchase the whole sex pollen plant.

You crawl quietly out of bed, pull on a shirt of Kun’s, and you tiptoe to the kitchen to deal with the mess from last night. Neither of you had bothered with the dishes from the stew, which are still spread out on the table. You get to work cleaning, tidying things and doing the dishes. 

It’s probably for the best that Kun’s already gotten over the effects of the sex pollen, you think as you finish the dishes from last night and start making breakfast instead. Kun is supposed to work today. He’s got a deadline coming up, so he needs to get in the studio today, and he’d been complaining to you yesterday morning about a meeting he has this morning. He’s got things to do, people to see, he can’t call in sick today because he’s too busy dealing with a sex pollen crisis, though at least the people he’s working with and having meetings with are some of his closest friends; they just might understand the situation.

“Good morning,” Kun says suddenly behind you, startling you a bit, but before you can turn to him, his arms are around you, and his hard cock is against your ass. “I guess this isn’t over yet, babe.” He kisses your cheek. “I thought when I fell asleep that it must be. I’d gone soft, but I just woke up hard as I ever was yesterday.”

He thrusts against your ass. 

“So I’m gonna fuck you, babe. But you keep doing what you’re doing, hm?” Kun pushes up the back of the shirt you’re wearing, revealing your ass to him. “God, you’re truly unbelievable, you know that? So fucking pretty, my babe.” And then he’s pressing in, cock pushing inside your pussy. 

You brace your arms against the countertop, and you try to keep finishing the breakfast prep you’d been doing before Kun came in. The way that he’s fucking you makes that a little more difficult, but you try, and Kun seems to like that. 

“Yes, babe, look at you. You’re taking it so well, letting me use you like this.” His cock twitches inside you. 

It’s not easy, that’s for sure.

Your focus starts to slip when Kun pulls your hips back, angling you just right so each of his thrusts is nailing against your G spot. He’s moaning behind you, praising how sweet and tight and warm you feel around his cock. Your pussy just keeps growing wetter and wetter as he reaches up beneath your shirt to grope at your tits, as you try to keep on task even as Kun’s fucking you into delirium.

Kun cums, flooding your pussy, pressing in deep a few more times. 

He steps back, and although you try to keep tight, to keep his cum in, you can feel some of it dripping out, sliding down your thigh, dropping to the floor.

Kun pats your ass, then pulls the shirt back down. 

“Good girl.” He kisses your cheek again. 

He sits down at the table, and a few moments later, the breakfast you were making is ready, so he pulls you into his lap to dine together. 

“Kun,” you say after a while, “Don’t you have to go to the studio today? Don’t you have a meeting too?”

His erection is digging into your thigh, unable to be ignored. 

“I do, and I was actually thinking about that.” He brushes his lips over your neck. “What if you come with me? This reaction isn’t going away, so I’m going to need to cum regardless of whether you’re there or not. So I could jerk off every five minutes, or you could come along and we’ll both get something out of it. What do you say?”

Twenty minutes later, you’re in the car with Kun. He’s flying down the streets. 

Even though his eyes are focused on the road, his driving is worse than usual, though that almost certainly has to do with the fact that as soon as he’d pulled onto the road, he’d tangled his fingers in your hair and urged your mouth down into his lap. 

You eagerly sucked at Kun’s cock, stroking him with both hands, leaving kisses along his length, drooling over the tip, choking yourself on him. Kun lays his hand on the back of your head, directing you when he really feels like he needs to. As you draw closer to the studio where Kun works as a producer, he starts taking over, pushing you down around his cock, his hips rising off the seat to drive himself deeper down your throat. 

He cums right as he’s pulling into the parking garage of the studio. You clean him up as he navigates to a parking spot, and you wait patiently in the passenger seat as Kun gets out. He comes around to your side, opening the door and taking your hand like a gentleman, and he pulls you into a kiss as soon as you’re both standing outside the car.

He takes you into his studio, sitting you in his lap while he starts working, though that only works for so long. Soon he’s getting distracted by the pressing need he keeps grinding against your ass, so he has you slide to your knees beneath the mixing board. You pull up the sweater you wore, and Kun has you push your tits together around his cock, and he fucks between the softness of them, cumming across your tits and then immediately dragging your mouth around his cock. 

You’re still kneeling there beneath the mixing board with your mouth full of his cock when his friend, who is also the artist he’s recording today, walks in. YangYang either doesn’t notice you down there or chooses not to say anything. You obediently keep your mouth around Kun, suckling and shifting on your knees. 

YangYang chats with Kun for just a couple minutes, and then he heads into the recording booth. 

Kun drags you off his cock, and you look up at him. “Babe, I really need to focus on this recording session, okay? So I’m gonna need you to take everything I give you, no whining or touching yourself, okay?”

You nod, sticking your tongue out, offering your mouth up to Kun again.

“Good girl.” Kun pushes you back down around his cock. You hear him press a button above your head, and then he says, “Alright, YangYang, go ahead.”

You bob your head on Kun’s cock, working your hardest to get him to cum for you, knowing that if he doesn’t cum, Kun’s going to be distracted. All you have to do is keep him satisfied, and then he’ll be focused. 

He cums within minutes, but you keep going, and Kun tightens his fingers in your hair. You bring your hands up to his cock too, stroking him into your mouth, letting some of his cum and your spit slide down to lube the way. You’re making a mess of him; his cum leaking out of your mouth is pooling on the front of his pants, but you can’t help it. You’re swallowing around him, swallowing the first load of cum, but before long he’s cumming again, letting out a grunt as you choke around his cock.

“Dude, you good?” YangYang asks from inside the booth. 

“Fine. Try that verse again.”

Kun’s hand weighs down against the back of your head, pushing you all the way down around his cock, and you close your eyes, letting him do it. You sink into some kind of state where you’re not asleep, but you’re not fully conscious either. All you know is the weight of Kun’s cock on your tongue, the taste of his cum, the smell of him as your nose is buried at the base of his cock. You can hear his voice, but he could be talking to you or a whole crowd of people, and you wouldn’t know the difference.

Eventually, Kun lets you up again, tugging lightly on your hair.

You gag as you’re pulled off of him, coughing and gasping for breath. Kun’s cum drips from your lips and chin.

“Are you okay?” Kun asks when he takes one look at the dazed expression on your face. “Babe, are you good to continue.”

You nod, feeling your lips form a loose smile. 

Kun brings his hand up, wiping at your cheeks and chin and lips. His fingers are gentle beneath your chin as he brings you forward into a kiss. His lips leave yours, brushing over your forehead. 

“We’re done with this for now.” He helps you the rest of the way to your feet. “You’re too far gone, you can’t even speak to me right now. If you could see the look on your face right now, my love, you would understand. Don’t pout.” You didn’t realize you were until Kun said that, and you try to tame your expression. He smiles, leading you over to the sofa along the back wall. “Take a nap. You’re amazing, and I love you, and once this all wears off, I owe you something huge.”

You hum, sinking down onto the sofa, laying your head down, and immediately you can feel a tired pull. 

Kun strokes his hand over your head, kisses your forehead one more time, and you’re asleep before he walks away. 

- - -

You sleep it off there on the sofa, waking hours later to go home with Kun. 

He fucks you senseless a few more times that night at home, and when you wake the next morning you stay in bed with him, waiting for him to wake, waiting for him to need to fuck you again, to let you suck his cock again even though you’re pretty sure at this point, your throat is permanently molded to the shape of Kun’s cock.

But when he wakes, Kun just pulls you against his chest. His cock doesn’t grow hard. He just sighs and holds you close, and you’re actually perfectly content with that change of pace too.

But a few days later, as you’re heading home from work, you get the thought into your head to return to the Little Shop of Wonders, to see if that witchy woman will sell you a vial of that sex honey. 

The pollen had been a lot. Your body is still aching days later, and Kun swears his balls are sore from how much he came in such a short span of time. But you’ve both agreed that maybe the honey would be nice to have – a less intense version of that that lasts only a few hours wouldn’t be bad to experience from time to time.

You walk down the side street you’d passed down just a few days ago, and you search the shopfronts for the window displays filled with crystals and viney plants, for the recessed doorway with the brass lantern and the ancient-looking wooden door. 

But you pass up and down that street three times, checking each shop before you finally give up. It’s not here. It’s as if the Little Shop of Wonders was never here at all, but you know you couldn’t have imagined it.

Weeks pass, you forget about it, too swept up in the holiday season closing in around you. Christmas is just days away, winter staking her claim over the city with a snowstorm blowing in this afternoon, ruining your plans to go shopping for Kun a Christmas present and a birthday present, since that’s a week later.

You’re hurrying home from work, bundled up against the chill, thinking about what you can get Kun that he’ll truly appreciate.

And then, from the corner of your eye through the swirling snow, you see a gleam of bronze. You turn your head. 

A brass lamp.

A wooden door.

Large plate glass windows frosted over, but not entirely concealing the displays of crystals and books and a wreath of candles and symbols. 

A new wooden sign creaks above the door, blowing back and forth in the wind. 

The Little Shop of Wonders sits waiting, promising the perfect present for Kun.   

a/n: I could've gone on and on with this one honestly! I was going to write a few more scenes, but it's getting late and I really need to post this.

I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome !

[thesummerestsolstice]

Hair Headcanons for Finwe and his Kids:

Finwe: as discussed, Finwe's hair is always perfect. He rolls out of bed in the morning and it's immaculately wavy with no tangles or snarls, even if he left jewelry in it (which happens pretty often). It's also very shiny and iridescent, with his black hair lighting up in all the colors of the northern lights depending on the angle and lighting. The originator of the Finwean Hair Magic™️ all his descendants inherited.

Feanor: iridescent hair that shines in the color of raven feathers– a lot like Finwe, but slightly less shiny. Because of Finwean Hair Magic™️, even though his hair is very long, and often not bound very well in the forges, he's never gotten his hair burned or caught on anything. He keeps his hair even longer than most Noldor so he can do the fanciest traditional braiding styles.

Findis: inherited her mother Indis's blond hair, but it's also very shiny, looking more like actual gold than the Vanyar blond hair her mother has. Under Laurelin or sunlight, it often shimmers a more rosy color. Later in the Second Age, she was given the nickname Andune (sunset) because of how beautiful the pink and orange highlights are.

Fingolfin: during the Years of the Trees, he has his father's black hair, but while it is very shiny (and always perfectly styled) it is not iridescent. After the Helcaraxe, his hair is run through with silver and white streaks, which everyone agrees makes him look very regal and kingly. The streaks stay even after he's reembodied, and become something of a fashion statement among others who crossed the Helcaraxe, who bleach parts of their own hair to match.

Lalwen: her hair is dark brown instead of black, but is nearly as iridescent as Finwe's, with all the same colors. She also continues in his footsteps of wearing it partly down dangerous hikes and hunts, and just like Finwe, she never trips on it or gets it caught anywhere. In Beleriand, she often wears her hair in a crown-like updo, because she knows it's more beautiful than any metal.

Finarfin: also got Indis's blond hair, but through the filter of Finwean Hair Magic™️, he's the first member of the family to have the kind of "treelight" hair Galadriel was so famous for. Under Laurelin or Sunlight, it glows a bright, rich gold, and under Telperion or moonlight it glows silver, with the two mixing during the mingling. He wears it almost entirely loose, in Vanyar fashion, and kind of became an artistic muse for Ingwe's court because of it. There are poetry volumes about his hair, and mentioning one of them in his presence is by far the easiest way to make him blush.

[millylotus]

I dyed my hair recently so y'all have to suffer through my ideas on if/how the batfam dies their hair

-

Jason:

Ironically in canon he had red hair during his first introduction & dyed it to match Dick as Robin, but that got retconed. I don't really use this but of canon but now I will just for the hell of it.

Jason's hair is like his bio mom Shelia's, a red-ish blonde, kinda strawberry but definitely not. It's a very odd color & recognizable so he starts dyeing it black to avoid suspicion. Post Death & Resurrection he dies it the same shade of black as his mom Catherine's was, refusing to look like the same woman who killed her child.

He bleached his hair once & cursed god, has never done it again.

-

Dick:

Has actually never died his hair, & probably never will, prefers just going wild with the cuts because "It'll just grow back", did once frost the tips but didn't like how it looked & just cut them off

-

Babs:

When she was younger she dyed some strips purple for the hell of it, but slowed down when she became batgirl to try & keep her identities a bit more separate. Nowadays just dies her grey streaks out [they came in early like the rest of her family's] cause she likes having a full head of ginger.

-

Bruce:

Bruce secretly actually being a brunette is a lil headcanon of mine. Like his hair was mainly black but the Kane Brown[& Red but he doesn't have the red undertones] started to shine through once he hit like 30 & now his hair is Black & Black-Brown. He didn't really care to dye it until he started getting greys & decided that just wouldn't do & now his hair is Black-Black.

-

Kate:

Has never dyed her hair in a proper state of mind, but has bleached her hair blonde just to see if she looked like Beth [she does & it freaked her out, so she buzzed it all off]. Now just has her hair cut short & doesn't mind it going gray, does have the iconic red wig that she treats like her baby.

-

Steph:

Was extremely cognizant of her hair as a kid & never dyed it. Mainly cause it was one of her biggest traits & even her dad would notice any changes in it & recognize her on the spot. Now though she like styling it in fun ways & darkened it a bit just to experiment.

-

Cass:

Does actually dye her hair, & it's mainly just darker colors & off-blacks cause she likes how it looks in the light. But she has dyed underneath her hair for a two layer look & that's where she hides the neons & such.

-

Tim:

He dyes his hair, like to a wild degree. All about side identities & gets fully into character, Alvin is a red head/brunette? he's dying his hair. Carolina has dyed blonde hair b/c she had it as a baby & her mom kept dying it blonde even though her hair went brown at 2? Then that's what Tim has to do. Everything is meticulous & his bathroom is a mess. He does under dye his hair a nice red & has the top dyed an auburny brown/red. Sometimes goes blonde for the underlayer.

He's also completely immune to the burn of bleach now.

-

Duke:

Dyes his hair, but not the roots cause he cannot do the burn. He likes to have fun little shapes in his hair, like stars & such. The type of person to use his clippers to shave in shapes on his fade that match the vibe of the color or shapes. Gets away with all this defining stuff because like Cass & Tim he's wearing a full cowl & who's gonna police his swag during the day when he's the only one around.

-

Damian:

Doesn't dye his hair, at all but does like to help his siblings with their hair, mainly Cass, Duke & sometimes Tim, also helps Dick & Steph with new hair cuts. Secretly like it because it's basically dress up, & he's still a kid, & kinda sorta wants a cosmetology degree when he's older.

[wren-kitchens]

2 badly written elven trio oneshots. enjoy

joel watches from the corner of her eye as gem scrunches their face up in a frown, and he grins. gem seems to notice and scoffs at her. "it smells."

"yeah- it's meant to smell." joel says, going for exasperated and landing on fond. gem is grinning at her, and he huffs. "shut up."

"I mean, I didn't- I wasn't saying anything." gem says, far too smug for joel's liking.

"you’re only doing a streak." scar says from where it's been trying to reach the back of its head using an inconvenient amount of mirrors. joel wonders how it ever managed to dye its hair before gem and her came along to help, because he has never seen a less effective method than whatever scar is doing right now. "it smells worse when it's your whole head."

"it really does." joel makes a face and gem snorts at her. "I- you’re doing the same face!"

"when have you dyed your whole head?" scar looks over, and- how has it managed to get the dye so far down its forehead? 

joel blinks. "I- what do you mean? it's dyed right now?"

both gem and scar are looking at joel as if she'd grown an additional two heads in the last five minutes, and he’s reminded of the time jimmy explained that his natural hair colour was the same as lizzie's, but he just bleaches it. did he forget to say-

"is your hair green?" gem's face lights up, and joel is a little embarrassed (and pleased) at how excited they are about this fact. "how have you not mentioned this before?"

"i just- it never came up." joel grins, a little shy. "jimmy's hair is pink, y’know."

"wait- joel!" scar says, apparently delighted by this revelation. "we match!"

joel processes for a moment before he realises what it means. "we- oh! wait- yeah, we do!" 

———————–-

"have you ever considered growing your hair out?"

gem watches with a sort of fond amusement as joel startles a little at their words, as if she'd been falling asleep. it takes him a second to respond, and gem grins at her.

"you- why?" joel asks, voice almost gravelly with tiredness. 

gem hums, leaning forward to press a kiss against his head and smiling as she huffs. "so I can braid it better." they say, as if it was obvious.

settling back on gem's lap, joel rolls her eyes, grinning. "just do scar's hair." she says, aiming for nonchalance—he would have hit it, if gem didn’t already know how much joel appreciates it when they play with her hair.

"scar's asleep." gem smiles to themself. "and I know you like it." they sing-song teasingly, suppressing a laugh as joel turns pink.

"it- wouldn't it get in the way?" joel says, dodging the question very obviously. "when i’m building- or fighting." she looks up. "is this a ploy for you to win more often?"

gem snorts. "it's not, but if that was a side effect, I wouldn’t be mad."

joel scoffs. "yeah- I knew it."

[valtsv]

What do your ocs reaver and valentine look like? I like them a lot!

YAYYYYYY okay <3 valentine's a decorated mech pilot who wears her mechsuit even outside the cockpit because her body is breaking down under the stress. she's pale, spindly, flat-chested and has poor posture from hours spent hunched inside a hulk of metal. she's tall and long-boned, which gives her an insect-like appearance. her hair is an off-white shade with faded brown strands peppered in; it used to be dark brown but the stress has bleached it. she usually wears it curled in propaganda shoots and television appearances because it looks too thin otherwise. her skin is a patchwork of half-healed, raw and infected, necrotic flesh from skin grafts which haven't had time to heal before she got back in the mech (hence the suit, which she uses as armour, exoskeleton and shield). she has wide brown bloodshot eyes lined with shadows of exhaustion and tension, and she gets an eyepatch later in her story when one of them is damaged too severely to be of functional use anymore.

reaver is a stocky asian-american man with dark hair streaked with grey and matching facial hair that lies somewhere in the liminal space between stubble and beard. he has an appearance best described as both careworn and careless - depression and bitterness weigh heavy on him, and although he's always presentable, he makes no more effort to be than the bare minimum. his clothes are clean, but old, and showing signs of repeated repair. his hair is long enough to tie back into a ponytail, but straggly at the ends in a way that suggests it's the result of a lack of regular haircuts rather than a conscious decision to grow it out. his eyes are heavy-lidded, hazel, and his loveliest feature. his skin is a light golden-brown, but with a pallid, unhealthy undertone that belies how little sun he gets. he looks older than his years, more like someone in their fifties than their forties like he actually is. he has muscle definition, but he's "let himself go" slightly, so it's padded out with a layer of softness and sagging skin that's clearly not from living well. unlike valentine, who gives the impression of someone who was striking but never beautiful, he's got the look of a man who was once handsome but has sunk into despair.

[thesinglesock]

Psychoanalyzing Lloyd’s most iconic hair styles.

[Post description: a series of screenshots from the animated series LEGO Ninjago. Image shows Kai and Lloyd sitting at a table, they are both holding tea cups. Lloyd is a child with a blonde bowl cut. End description.]

Rise of the Snakes Bowl Cut: this is a child. just a little guy. does not care about self expression through his hair at all, just trying to live his complicated little life.

[Image description: Sensei Garmadon and Lloyd are standing in front of a stone wall. Lloyd is young adult with neatly trimmed, short, blonde hair swept to the side. Garmadon has a similar hairstyle, but grey. End description]

the Sudden Growth Spurt Cowlick: still not a deliberate hair choice, he’s still a kid, trying to mimic his dad because he loves him and looks up to him.

[Image description: Kai has his arm around Lloyd, restraining him. Lloyd has black hair and light green skin. End description.]

the Possession Inversion: Emo phase. that was supposed to be a funny joke but I’m actually crying.

[Image description: Lloyd is holding his sword against Cole’s hammer. Cole’s back is turned to the viewer. Lloyd’s hair is white and nearly reaches his neck. End description.]

Baby’s First Deliberate Hair Choice! Now that he’s no longer feeling like a lost child and is entering his proper Teen Angst Years, the boy bought a pack of cheap bleach and dyed his hair in the monastery bathroom. He also stopped using his dad’s hair gel, sporting a looser, more stylish look.

[Image description: Zane is talking to Lloyd, who appears to be upset. Zane is in his titanium form. Lloyd’s hair is the same style as before, but now in a warm yellow colour with light streaks. End description.]

Post Harumi Golden Locks: you hair matching your girlfriend’s is only cute as long as she isn’t a homicidal maniac. After the Oni Trilogy Lloyd let his hair return to its natural colour, which makes it look much healthier. Too bad his newly developed severe trust issues can’t be fixed by swapping out his conditioner :(

[Lloyd is standing alone in front of a blurry, pink landscape. His hair has more visible dark streaks by the roots. The pink lighting makes it hard to see exactly what kind of blonde it is. End description.]

Dragons Rising: Lloyd has graduated the Angsty Teenager phase. He is now an Exhausted Adult. All his friends are gone, presumed to be dead (again), he is overworked, has adopted two protéges, and has not touched a shampoo bottle in Months. Just look at those greasy roots. Please let him take a break and also a bath.

[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

Fit for a King - WIP - "You are tiny"

Fit for a King - Masterlist

König fanfiction scenes and chapters that do not yet have a coherent plot

planned content/TW: rivals to lovers, König x fem!character (not too descriptive to make it accessible for more readers), social anxiety killing machine König, badass friendly FMC, dual POV, secret relationship, switch energy, NSFW, adult themes, strong language, violence (more details are still unclear, gonna update as I go), authentic austrian german

a/n: well, my brain isn't letting go of this newest obsession of mine, so I will appease it and write some scenes/chapters that come to mind. i have written more original work and less fanfictions and our boy (and KorTac) is hard to research, but I'll try my best to stay some-what cannon to the lore. it'll also probably get darker down the road.

if your character doesn't have a tragic backstory, why not give him one?

A not so meetcute

(CW: some mature language)

I strut along the hallway, I'm already late to report for duty and turn the corner abruptly. I collide with somebody else at full walking force and almost get pushed to the floor, if the big figure blocking the light shining from above wouldn't have caught me. "Ouch.", I yelp, more surprised than hurt, even though I feel like ran over by a truck.

I steady myself to look at the "truck". I look up and I keep looking up and up. At first there's just this chest, a huge chest, in a simple compression shirt, but oh boy. The weapon holster is what I see next, sitting snug at the side of his torso. Shoulders, big broad shoulders, and normally you would expect to have a head sitting on top of them and a face looking back at you. I guess, he has one as well, even though I don't see one bit of it. I strain my neck to finally meet his eyes.

But all I see is the dark black of a… sniperhood? A T-shirt? I mean, it looks like a t-shirt, that somebody cut holes in to fashion themselves a kind of mask. The front is stained with bleach, two streaks coming down from the eyeholes... My eyes widen as it sinks in who this is. König. KorTac operator, field combatant and one of my superiors. Shit. I've heard some rumors about him. And it seems like at least some of them ring true.

"You are tiny.", he states matter-of-factly, his Austrian accents shining through the uttered words. It's the first thing he says to me. "And you are... not.", I retort. I can't make out his expression as it so obviously is hidden by his mask. He nods, turns around and heads down the hallway where he came from. I shake my head. What the hell was that?

I stretch myself, feeling the impact of the collision already. My god, that was like being hit by a battering ram. I heard that his specialty is breaking down doors with brute force. I thought this to be ridiculous, but now as I watch the gigantic muscled man strut down the hallway, quickly disappearing, I do believe it. 6'10" killing machine. Ridiculous.

I shake my head again and make my way to the meeting room. Ridgeback is already waiting for me.

______________________________________________________________

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Verdammt. Ah, des hast du ganz super g'macht.* I tell myself sarcastically in my head as I basically run down the hallway. She must be one of the new hires. Must be. And you almost turned her to mush. Mus. Brei. Human remains splattered against the wall. I curse myself again. I didn't even apologize. "You are tiny." No shit, Sherlock, everybody is tiny compared to you. I continue to mock myself. Fuck, Shit, Fuck.

"Ridge, since when do we hire children?", I ask him as soon as I enter the room. He doesn't even look up. "We don't." He keeps reading. "Then why did I just almost run over a recruit that didn't even reach my waist?" – “Because compared to you, everybody seems tiny.” He sighs and looks up at me. “None of our personnel are under 6’, not even the women.”

“Even the new recruits?”, I ask him again. He furrows his brow. “What did you do, König?”, he wants to now. “I may or may not have almost trampled one of them.”, I say, kleinlaut***. He sighs again. “I think that was Müller, she’s actually on her way here.”, Ridgeback says. “Müller? Is she german?”, I ask in surprise. I didn’t hear such an accent on her, but to be fair, she only said like three words… and I wasn’t really paying attention to her words anyway.

On cue, the door opens and I fall silent. “Permission to enter, Sir?”, she says with a clear voice. Not at all seeming like I almost turned her into pulp. I take two steps back to stand in the back, trying to blend into the wall behind me – which I already know from experience is not going to work. “Come in.”, Ridge says. “Müller, right?” She nods and approaches. My focus is fully on her, all the small bits I noticed about her before are still there. She’s not wearing a mask because it’s not necessary off mission. You know, like you normally would. She has laugh lines. Around her eyes and mouth. Fucking laugh lines. She doesn’t look like she belongs here.

The two of them are talking, but I catch every single time when her gaze lands on me, even if it’s just from the corner of her eyes. I fight against the urge to turn away every time she looks at me, when I hear Ridgeback drop the old s-word. Sniper.

My ears perk up and I finally pay attention to what they’re saying again. “Your track record is almost immaculate, Müller. You’re gonna be an asset to the team on the next missions.”, he says to her. I can see that she tries to hold back a proud expression or smile on her face, but she doesn't really succeed at that. God damn it, a sniper. I groan and make my way to the door which doesn’t go unnoticed. “König.”, Ridgeback pipes up. “You wanna show Müller the way to the dorms?” as I already have my hand on the doorknob.

I still for just a moment and the roaring sensation of anxiety seeps at my feet and crawls up my body until it’s nested at the back of my head. I can’t talk to her. Not after embarrassing myself before. “Nein.”, is all I say before I’m out the door.

*God damnit. You did a really bang up job. ** two different words for pulp/mash *** meekly (word for word: 'smallloud')

[sourlemonsprout]

𝙷𝚊𝚒𝚛 𝙳𝚢𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚊

Alphonse x gn!reader

Boo helps Alphonse re-touch his hair dye. 

Word Count: 784

꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

It was late at night, and Boo had been lounging all alone in Al's bed, mindlessly scrolling through TikTok when suddenly, a loud noise in the other room startled them. 

"UGH, Damnit!" Boo heard Alphonse frustratedly yell. Lowering their phone, they craned their head to the side, listening intently for any more noises. 

What the hell is going on out there? 

After a few moments of silence, Boo flung the blanket on their lap off to the side and swung their legs out of bed. They wandered silently down the hallway, pausing at the sight of light filtering out from the slightly ajar bathroom door. As they peered into the crack, they saw Alphonse leaning over the countertop, shirtless with a messy towel covered in old hair dye stains draped over his bare shoulders. Another dirty towel hung over the faucet head, and a box of hair dye with its contents spilled out across the counter. Al was vigorously rubbing at a spot on his neck when his eyes met Boo's through the mirror. 

"Hey there creeper," He smirked mischievously, tilting his head to the side. 

"I was wonderin' what you've been up to. I thought you said you were gonna take a shower?" Boo smiled, pushing the door open wider so they could rest against the doorframe. 

"Well, I was, but I was tryin' to touch up my roots first. It wasn't supposed to take this long. Admittedly, I shouldn't have started this when I was so damn tired." He let out a big sigh as he turned to face his Boo. They surveyed the room, which looked like a bomb went off with hair tools and products strewn about haphazardly. Then there were the streaks of pink smudged across Al's neck and face. Boo couldn't help but find the situation amusing, and a series of giggles fell from their lips.

"What are you laughing at?" Al pouted. 

"I don't know, it just- the whole time we've been together I've never seen you dye your hair before," they shrugged.  

"Besides, I thought you'd be a pro at this by now!" they laughed. 

"Hey now, don't bully me, I'm tired!" he chuckled. 

"Soo... you want some help with that?" They offered, pointing at the messy jar of hair dye with a thin brush sticking out the top. Alphonse glanced back at the jar and then up at himself in the mirror before letting out a tired sigh.

"I suppose you can't do more damage than I've already done." he chuckled. 

"Okok, gimme a second!" Boo said excitedly before rushing away. A few moments later, they returned wearing an old oversized t-shirt, lugging a chair in one hand and two Laffy Taffy ropes in the other. 

"Here," they shrugged the chair forward towards Al.

"Sit on this. Otherwise, I'll never be able to reach the top of your head." Alphonse took the chair and positioned himself so Boo could access the sink and countertop with ease. 

"Thanks, babe," Al said softly, pulling at the wrapper of his Laffy Taffy candy. Boo turned on some soft background music before getting to work. They scooped up the jar of pink dye and stirred it to check the amount of product left. Although it was a bit messy, Al seemed to have covered most of the spots towards the back of his head that required attention. Boo gently turned Al's face to the side and started to apply thin layers of pink dye to the bleach-lightened areas on the side of his head. Alphonse quietly watched through the mirror as Boo worked on his hair, the Laffy Taffy rope hanging from the side of their mouth as they focused on the task at hand.

In no time, both sides were done. All that was left was some of the top and front parts of the hair. As they stepped in closer, Al inhaled deeply, taking in the calming humming and scent that filled his senses and made his heart flutter. Mindlessly, his hand brushed gently along the side of Boo's thigh.

"Hey, what are you doing silly?" Boo said, stopping mid-brush as Al tilted his head up to look into their eyes, a dopey smile spread across his blush-kissed face. With a firm yet delicate motion, Al grabbed the sides of Boo's waist and pulled them down into his lap. 

"I appreciate you takin' care of me, you know that right?" He said, running his hand alongside their jaw to cup their face.

"I know," they hummed lovingly. The two looked at each other and smiled, the air between them felt almost electric. Without another word, Alphonse pulled Boo in, their lips meeting in a soft, sweet kiss. 

꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦

The End <3

[elryuse]

*cough cough* yandere Lily showing you the wedding band meaning you're her husband now. can I request a yandere ex-gf Lily?

Dangerous Melody!

YANDERE LILY X MALE READER

The faint smell of bleach stung Lily's nostrils, a counterpoint to the metallic tang that clung to the worn chopping board. She stared down at the discarded blonde hair, the vibrant color now a dull, lifeless mess, mirroring the hollowness that gnawed at her. Minnie, another pretty face removed from the equation.

Lily used to mock Y/n's obsession with K-Pop. Now, she was the one consumed by it, living through his memories, fueled by a twisted jealousy that had curdled into a horrifying obsession. Y/n, her Y/n, the nerdy guy who used to stammer compliments about her singing voice, was now a rising star. He was surrounded by a glittering constellation of K-Pop idols - (G)-Idle, Kep1er, ITZY - each a potential threat.

The initial thrill of revenge, of watching them fall one by one - a "clumsy" fall for Miyeon, a "sudden illness" for Chaeryeong - had morphed into a chilling emptiness. The closer they got to Y/n, the further he seemed to drift, withdrawing from the public eye, a ghost haunted by fame.

One rainy night, Lily found herself huddled in a doorway opposite Y/n's old apartment. She'd become a stalker, her once carefully curated social media presence abandoned, her life consumed by the flickering glow of his window.

A lone figure emerged, his silhouette obscured by the downpour. He moved with the slumped shoulders of a defeated man, the rain blurring the lines of his tear-streaked face. Y/n. Her Y/n, a broken shell of the boy she used to know.

Anger, raw and hot, pulsed through her veins. All this suffering, all this scheming, for a man who didn't even fight for her? He wasn't worth the effort, the thrill of the chase. But a cold, unsettling voice whispered in the back of her mind – he was hers. He'd always been hers.

The next morning, Lily stood before his building, a manic glint in her normally cool blue eyes. The security guard, a young man who'd always fawned over her fleeting visits, stammered in surprise.

"Miss Lily? But Mr. Y/n doesn't want guests."

Lily's lips curved into a chilling smile. "He doesn't have a choice anymore, does he?"

The fear in the guard's eyes was a balm to her frayed nerves. Her fingers closed around the handle of a heavy duffel bag, its contents a terrifying promise.

Y/n didn't notice the rustle of movement outside his window until a bloodcurdling scream pierced the night. He threw it open, his breath catching in his throat at the sight of Lily, her face streaked with a mixture of rain and something much redder.

"Lily?" He whispered, his voice thick with terror. "What… what have you done?"

Her smile was predatory, devoid of any warmth. "Oh, Y/n," she purred, her voice laced with a chilling sweetness. "Just making sure there are no more distractions. Now, come here."

Before he could react, Lily lunged, dragging a rusty chain with shackles from her bag. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so petite, the cold metal biting into his skin as she secured them.

"We'll be together again," she crooned, her voice a chilling melody. "Forever this time."

He struggled against the restraints, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and loathing. "Lily, no! You're insane!"

"Insane? Perhaps," she conceded, her eyes glinting with a terrifying amusement. "But only for you, my love."

Ignoring his pleas, she hoisted him onto her shoulder, his screams swallowed by the sounds of the rain. The once vibrant city lights blurred past in a dizzying kaleidoscope, a cruel reminder of the life he was being ripped away from.

Their destination – a secluded cabin nestled deep in the woods, a place she'd inherited from a distant relative. There, in the heart of isolation, a twisted love story bloomed. A love bound by fear and obsession, where Y/n became Lily's captive, a broken idol trapped in a gilded cage of her own making.

The K-Pop world mourned their missing star, whispers of foul play turning into cold acceptance. But for Y/n, trapped in the suffocating darkness of their love-turned-prison, there was no more music, no more fans. Only the horrifying reality of his ex-lover, now a monster, and the chilling words that echoed through the lonely cabin: "Forever, Y/n. Forever with me."

[tertiaryapocalypse]

my piece for the disabledstuck zine, which you can check out here!! it looks really cool all together ^_^

[id: an illustration of john, jade, rose, dave, and davesprite sitting together, in what is presumably a living room. behind them are a variety of posters displaying theirs and the alpha kid's interests, including, from left to right: a picture of kamina from gurren lagann, a national treasure poster, a signed & elaborately framed drawing of sweet bro and hella jeff hugging, a squiddles poster which has been drawn on top of to look like the beta kids, an image of schrodinger with cat ears and whiskers drawn on in pink, a framed photo of sigmund freud, a poster for the movie contact, a photo of obama with red hearts drawn all over it, a wizard print, a poster for bbc sherlock, a print for problem sleuth, a horse calendar with orange annotations on the image and every day crossed out in red up until the 26th of july, a printed image of jigsaw, and a printed image of lil nas x. behind all of the other posters and images is a large photo of neyteri. the wall is a light bluish grey, and the floor is hardwood. june and dave sit on a light green couch with a floral pattern. davesprite is an orange sprite who is slightly glowing. he has similar features as dave, though wing wears his hair in short locks and has a septum piercing. he has gauges and a black beaded bracelet. wing leans on the top of the couch with his arms crossed and wings tail floating behind him, looking over at dave with a lazy expression as dave talks. dave is a blasian person with medium dark skin, short curly hair, which is bleached blond, braces, and aviator shades. she wears a dark red hoodie, dark grey skinny jeans, and a similarly red beanie, as well as green socks with dinosaur bones patterned on. he has a star of david pin and a system flag pin. he leans on the couch and has one leg crossed over the other. john grins, seemingly laughing at dave. she's a chinese-brazilian boy with lighter skin, square rimmed glasses, some stubble, and long straight dark hair in a ponytail. she has his ears pierced and wears a trans necklace, as well as his typical tee shirt and a pair of grey cargo shorts. she leans against the arm of the couch. rose and jade both sit on the floor with their backs to the couch. rose is knitting a pink scarf, listening to their conversation while making an amused expression. it's a blasian girl with curly lavendar hair. she has dark makeup on, and wears a black t-shirt with a purple pleated skirt and black socks. she wears compression gloves and black earrings shaped like the star of david. jade leans on it's knee, sleeping peacefully. jade is a chinese-brazilian person with long wavy dark hair, streaked with white. they have white dog ears and a tail, though said tail is hidden. they habe rounded glasses and wear a dark green cargo skirt and dave's shirt. dave, rose, and davesprite have rounded chins, wide, flat noses, and full lips, while june and jade have slightly more angular chins, hooked noses, and thinner lips. john and dave both have canes leaning against the couch. june's is green and has an offset handle, and daves is a red folding cane. end id.]