#they’re too chaotic I can’t stop them

[al-1-na]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 (req.)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Drew Starkey x gf!Reader

𝐂𝐖: angst to fluff, no sexual content

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: When Drew begins pulling away, you’re left questioning everything—especially when rumors swirl about him and a co-star. But one emotional night brings the truth to light, and with it, a chance to heal together.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭; 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭; 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It started with unread texts.

At first, you didn’t think anything of it. People get busy. People get distracted. Especially when they’re actors on the brink of something big. You’d text him in the mornings—simple things like “Hope you slept okay” or “Wanna grab dinner after set?”—and by the time the sun went down, maybe he’d shoot back a tired thumbs-up emoji. Sometimes not even that.

It stung, but you brushed it off.

The thing about love is that it makes you good at making excuses. Too good.

You and Drew had been dating for a little over a year. It wasn’t always like this—God, no. He used to call you on the way home from set, just to hear your voice. You used to fall asleep on FaceTime when you were in different cities. He used to make you laugh so hard your stomach hurt.

But now, the silence between texts stretched longer, like slow, heavy breathing. He started replying in fragments. “Busy.” “Can’t tonight.” “Rain check?”

And you kept telling yourself it was fine. That he was tired. That he was just overwhelmed. That he loved you—he just didn’t have the energy to show it all the time.

But then the date nights stopped.

You had this little tradition—every Thursday night was yours. No matter how chaotic the week was, Thursday meant takeout and wine and the two of you cuddled under a throw blanket watching the worst movies you could find. And that was your anchor. That was your constant.

Until suddenly, it wasn’t.

The first Thursday he bailed, he said something had come up on set. The second, he said he was sick. The third, he didn’t say anything at all. Just didn’t show.

You waited until 11:47 p.m. before finally blowing out the candle you’d lit for ambiance and packing away the pad thai that had gone cold. You didn’t even bother texting him. What was the point?

What made it worse—what twisted the knife—was opening Instagram.

There he was. Smiling in the sunlight next to Odessa. The caption wasn’t anything special—just a “grateful for days like this ☀️” kind of thing—but the comments were wild.

“omg are they dating??”

“i KNEW there was something between them”

“sorry to this girl but drew and odessa >>>>”

Your hands went cold as you scrolled, the blood rushing in your ears.

You didn’t want to be that girl. You didn’t want to spiral. But how were you supposed to feel when the man you loved hadn’t touched you in days and yet looked so warm and alive in someone else’s frame?

You turned your phone off and buried it under your pillow.

It got harder to talk to him.

Every time you tried—every time you even so much as hinted at how distant he felt—he’d change the subject or wave it off.

“I’m just tired,” he said one night, brushing a kiss against your hair. “Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

But it already was something. You were starting to feel like a ghost in your own relationship—like some vague obligation he kept around out of habit.

And you hated yourself for not knowing how to fix it.

It all came to a head on a Friday night.

You’d made a stupid little plan—nothing fancy, just a movie you knew he liked, popcorn, candles. A cozy night. One last try. You didn’t text him about it, didn’t announce it, just hoped he’d walk in and feel the care behind it and remember you. Really remember you.

But he came home, dropped his keys on the counter, barely looked at you.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m going out. Probably late.”

You blinked from the couch, remote still in hand. “You just got home.”

“Yeah. I know.”

You stood slowly. “Drew…”

He didn’t meet your eyes.

“Where are you going?”

“Out with a few friends. I need a night to breathe.”

And that was it. That was the moment something inside you cracked—quiet and clean, like the shatter of fine china.

You didn’t yell. You didn’t scream. You just… felt it all hit you at once.

“Do you even want to be with me anymore?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

He froze. “What?”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight, I’m just—” You paused, swallowing the ache in your throat. “I need to know. Because I feel like I’ve been holding on by my fingertips, and every day, you pull a little further away.”

His brows furrowed. “It’s not like that.”

“Isn’t it?” You laughed bitterly. “You barely talk to me. You leave me on read. You cancel every plan we make. And then I see you with her and it’s like…” Your voice wobbled. “It’s like you’re happier with her.”

Drew stared at you like you’d slapped him. “Wait. Are you talking about Odessa?”

“You’re all over her page, Drew. And the comments…” You shook your head. “They think you’re together. And honestly, sometimes I wonder if they’re right.”

He stepped forward, his expression stricken. “Hey, hey—no. No. That’s not what this is.”

Tears burned your eyes, but you didn’t look away.

“Then what is this?” you asked. “Because I feel like I’m begging for scraps of your attention. And I hate that I’ve gotten so used to being invisible to you.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until he reached out and cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing under your eye.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “God, I didn’t know it had gotten this bad.”

You sniffled. “How could you not?”

He closed his eyes like he couldn’t bear the weight of your words.

“I thought I was protecting you,” he whispered.

You stared. “From what?”

“From this,” he said, gesturing between you. “From me. I’ve been in this weird headspace… overworked, burnt out, insecure, all of it. I started feeling like I was dragging you into my mess. Like I wasn’t good enough for you anymore.”

You shook your head, tears falling freely now. “So instead of talking to me, you just shut me out?”

“I didn’t know how to talk about it,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You already did,” you said, the words stinging even as they left your mouth. “But I would’ve understood if you’d just told me.”

His face crumpled as he pulled you into his arms, holding you like he hadn’t in weeks—tightly, desperately, like he finally realized you might slip through his fingers.

“I’ve been such an idiot,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’ve treated you like an afterthought.”

You buried your face in his chest, your hands clutching at his shirt. “I missed you so much, Drew.”

“I missed you too,” he breathed. “I never stopped loving you. I just… forgot how to show it.”

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in each other, the silence between you soft for the first time in what felt like forever.

When you finally pulled back, your voice was quieter. “You need to mean it. If we do this again… I need you to fight for me. Not leave me guessing.”

He nodded, eyes shining. “I will. I swear to you. No more half-versions of me. You deserve everything.”

You let out a shaky laugh, brushing your thumb across his jaw. “You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“I know,” he said. “And I’ll spend every day doing it.”

That night, he didn’t go out. He turned off his phone, ordered your favorite takeout, and curled up on the couch beside you like the man you fell in love with.

You held hands under the blanket as the movie played, and somewhere between scenes, he kissed your forehead and whispered, “I’m home now.”

And just like that, you felt him choosing you all over again.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @soft-starr @k4yr14 @43hughes @cokewithcameron @psychocitylights

AN: whoever requested this you are a blessing!!! i loved every second of writing this:3

[joyswonderland1108]

“How on earth is JK hanging up on Tae somehow Jimin's fault?”

JK hangs up on Tae → Tae looks mildly annoyed → Jimin breathes in the same time zone → suddenly it's his masterplan all along 😭 “He manipulated Jungkook with his smirk” girl be serious.

I— You know what? Nevermind. Never. Mind. I've seen the circus and I don’t need front row seats today. These people will see Jungkook unplug the sun and blame the lack of sunlight on Jimin’s aura or something. “He’s too radiant and Jungkook couldn’t take it 🥺” — girl what.

BUT ANYWAY. How are we doing today, fam? How are we feeling? Because Echo just dropped.

And if you’re not listening to it like your life depends on it… what are you doing??? Rent is due, and so is your streaming effort.

Here are two playlists I’m using to stream — because we support our kings with views AND taste. Hopefully they help you too.

Now let’s talk about Jin’s live. Or as I like to call it: The Groupchat Leak None of Us Knew We Needed. Because excuse me, what was THAT? 193 comments from the members???

I swear they either:

Accidentally dropped the groupchat into the public zone,

Are now testing a new social experiment called “Parasocial Group Messaging,”

Or they simply forgot we weren’t supposed to be there.

Honestly? Not complaining. Inject every chaotic interaction directly into my bloodstream. Jin saying “get out of my comments” while simultaneously being soft with them?? Peak hyung behavior. I just know he texted the actual groupchat later like, “Next time use KakaoTalk LIKE NORMAL HUMAN BEINGS.”

Now onto the part of the regularly scheduled program where we collectively slap some sense into the jobless haters: "Jikook are never together" “Where is the proof?” “Are you delusional?”

OH I DON’T KNOW. Maybe they listened to a whole song together? Not just any song. "Don't Say You Love Me". Like… really think about the emotional damage in that title and then imagine Jikook choosing that as their bonding soundtrack. I’m not okay, thanks for asking (I'm being delulu leave me alone!!)

And what’s Jungkook doing? Oh just… talking on the phone. And laughing. Right next to Jimin. As if they share one braincell and can’t operate it when they’re apart. So sorry for having eyes and ears and a functioning memory.

Let’s talk about the inside jokes. The bane of every Jikooker's existence. “It looks good on you.” “No, no, it looks good on you.”

✨STAAAAHP✨ I’m tired of being left out like a side character in a K-drama who gets five lines and a heartbreak arc. WHAT LOOKS GOOD ON WHO? IS THIS ABOUT CLOTHES OR SOMETHING ELSE? Give us the context, I’m begging. These two act like we were THERE for the original joke. Like we weren’t just trying to eat our snacks and mind our business before they decided to gaslight us with cryptic matching dialogue.

And THEN. Jungkook just decides that Hopeminkook can carry on the convo post-live like this was a planned coffee chat. Bro straight up ghosted but gave them permission to “go on.” 😂

Meanwhile, I can feel Jin’s soul leaving his body. You just know he hit the groupchat with: “Get. Out. Of. My. Comments.” And Hobi responded with 10 emojis and Jimin sent a picture of his elbow or something equally cursed.

But now, for the highlight of today’s unhinged lesson in Jikookology: DULPO and NETPO.

For the confused among us (it’s okay, you’re loved), let me educate you real quick:

In Korean, numbers go like this:

1 = 하나 (hana)

2 = 둘 (dul)

3 = 셋 (set)

4 = 넷 (net)

Let me explain based on what i know and what i understood :

In the South Korean military artillery units, soldiers are divided into tank/artillery crews, each given a number. And because Korean is a language of poetic chaos and nicknames, this turns into:

Jungkook, an artilleryman (포수 / posu), was assigned to tank crew number 2 → hence the name DULPO (둘포): "둘 (dul)" = two + "포 (po)" = artillery/gunner

Jimin? He was assigned to tank crew number 4, and naturally, his squad is NETPO (넷포): "넷 (net)" = four + "포 (po)" = artillery/gunner

Not just that — Jimin casually decided to let us know that He is the "ACE" of Netpo, and I’m sorry but ??? We now have ranks within nicknames?? You’re telling me this man is out there acing the military?? Can you imagine Jimin just glowing under camouflage paint and being the top gunner in his squad like it's the finale of a K-drama?

Now..

🕵️‍♂️ BTS Mafia Game Chaos (aka Jikook & Hobi being extra on the timeline)

It all starts with Jimin, just casually asking:

지민: 마피아 하실? “Are you going to play the mafia game?”

Enter Jungkook, 1 minute later, saying:

JK: 눈치게임 1 “Timing game 1”

(He’s referring to a Korean timing game called 눈치게임 (Noonchi Game) where everyone tries to say a number in sequence without overlapping someone else's number — like 1, 2, 3, etc. — but if two people say the same number, they lose.)

Then Hobi shows up and drops:

hobi: 즈2 = "2" in a playful/slangy way

Then Jimin says:

지민: 이 = "2" (again)

And finally Jungkook, being over it already, says:

JK: 아 중복 너무 많다 “Ah, there are too many overlaps” 😩

So basically, this was:

Jimin starting chaos with a mafia game suggestion

Jungkook turning it into a Noonchi Game

Everyone yelling "2" like chaotic toddlers

Jungkook realizing they’ve all failed the game instantly because of too many overlaps

TL;DR:

JK hangs up on Tae and that’s somehow Jimin’s fault (???)

Jin’s live was a groupchat simulation gone rogue

Jikook listened to an emotionally devastating song together and smiled through it like psychopaths

We got soft bickering, synchronized laughter, mysterious inside jokes, and now apparently, gaming lore to study

Jimin = Netpo ACE. JK = Dulpo Support Main (probably)

I need a nap

Anyway, stream Echo!!! And don't forget our boys only have about 3 weeks and 4 days left to be with us again!!!

[luna-azzurra]

How to Write a Confession of Love

Build the Emotional Tension Before the big confession, let the tension simmer between the characters. Maybe they share little glances across the room, or their hands brush accidentally but neither pulls away. Every shared laugh or lingering look should leave the reader wondering “Is this it?” When the confession finally happens, it’ll feel like the natural next step, as if both characters have been teetering on the edge of admitting their feelings for a while.

Inner Turmoil Leading Up to the Moment No one’s ever totally confident before saying, “I like you,” or “I love you.” Show the character’s inner freak-out. Maybe they’re wondering if they’re about to ruin everything, or if the other person feels the same. Let them overthink every detail, what if they mess it up? What if they say the wrong thing? This nervousness is super relatable and makes the confession way more intense and vulnerable.

Choose the Right Setting Where the confession happens can completely change the vibe. If it’s somewhere quiet and personal, like on the roof under the stars or sitting close on a couch, it adds a sense of intimacy. But maybe it’s in the middle of a party or a chaotic situation, where emotions are running high and everything’s on the line. The setting should fit the emotions—are they scared? Excited? Confused? Let the environment match their energy.

Don’t Make It Perfect Real life is messy, and confessions of love are no different. Maybe the character fumbles their words, says something awkward, or has to start over. Maybe they get interrupted, or they laugh nervously halfway through. These imperfections make the moment feel real. It’s not about saying the perfect words, it’s about what’s in their heart. Let the raw, unpolished feelings shine through.

Balance Between Show and Tell Obviously, they’re going to say something like “I love you” or “I can’t stop thinking about you,” but actions and body language speak just as loudly. Maybe their voice cracks, they shift closer without realizing it, or they can’t seem to meet the other person’s eyes. Maybe their hands are shaking, or their heart is pounding so loud they can’t hear anything else. Let those little details paint the full picture of how much this confession means.

The Other Person’s Reaction It’s not just about the person confessing, the other person’s reaction is a huge part of the scene. Are they completely shocked? Do they hesitate, or respond right away? Do they get teary-eyed or try to play it cool? The way they react adds layers to the moment. Even a pause before answering can make the scene ten times more intense. Their response shows how much they’ve been waiting for or dreading this confession too.

In short, make it messy, emotional, and real. Readers want to feel the build-up, the fear, the excitement, and the vulnerability of both characters. Don’t be afraid to make things a little awkward or imperfect, that’s what makes a confession unforgettable.

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A SUNSHINE!READER ── .✦ ( basically batboys with a optimistic reader )

a/n: this was requested by anon (here) but anywayss i think I’m gonna do the world tour thing after my winter inspired fics/hcs end on like February 28th! (Dw i’ll still do the world tour thingy in between) but yahh also I desperately need writer mutals + mutals I mssg daily like I’m a very kind person idm if you dm me at like 4 AM, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Absolutely smitten. Your optimism is like a magnet for Dick, who thrives on positivity.

He calls you his “little ray of sunshine” (even if you roll your eyes at the nickname).

If he’s feeling down, your relentless optimism is a game changer. “How do you do that? How do you make the world seem so… bright all the time?”

Constantly teases you, especially if you’re being overly cheerful during random moments. “Are you seriously smiling right now? We’re getting ready to head to bed!”

But secretly, he loves it. Your energy balances his occasional doubts && insecurities. (he lovesss positive people who live in their own world)

Dick starts picking up on your habits leaving little notes of encouragement, giving random compliments to strangers and realizes how much better it makes his day.

JASON TODD ── .✦

At first, he’s skeptical. He’s not used to someone so genuinely cheerful, and he might think you’re putting on an act.

“How are you this happy all the time? What’s your secret? Coffee? Dark magic?”, “I just like seeing the world differently, I’m a poet in my mind.”

But over time, he warms up to your positivity and even craves it (to a point he gets sad if you aren’t around for more than 4 hours). You’re the light that cuts through his darker moments and more sulking personality.

“I don’t know how you do it, but you make me feel like the world’s not completely screwed.”, “what did you say?-“, “Nothing go back to sleep.”

He pretends to be annoyed when you try to cheer him up after a rough day, but he secretly loves when you coax a laugh out of him.

Jason starts jokingly calling you his “emotional support sunshine.” He’ll tell Roy, “Yeah, they’re like my personal antidepressant.”

Will protect your positivity at all costs. If anyone tries to dim your light, they’ll have to deal with him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Finds your optimism so refreshing. Tim can be a little too caught up in stress and overthinking, so your energy is like a breath of fresh air.

He’s constantly asking, “How are you so happy all the time? Teach me your ways.”

If you leave him little notes of encouragement, he’ll treasure them forever. He has a drawer full of them and pulls one out whenever he’s having a bad day.

Sometimes, your cheerfulness makes him feel a little guilty. “You’re so good, and here I am being a grump.” But you always remind him it’s okay to have bad days.

Tim loves how you bring optimism even to his most chaotic moments. “Yeah, sure, we’re being late, but hey, at least it’s not raining, right?”

He’d be a little overwhelmed by your energy at times, but he admires you deeply for seeing the good in everything.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian does not know what to do with you at first. Your cheerfulness is a complete mystery to him.

“Why are you smiling? We are surrounded by incompetence.”

He pretends to be annoyed, but deep down, he finds your positivity oddly comforting.

Over time, he starts looking forward to your optimistic take on things. “Yes, fine, maybe there is a silver lining. Stop gloating.”

You have a knack for breaking through his tough exterior. If he’s grumpy, you’ll say something so genuinely kind that he can’t help but soften.

Damian secretly loves how you see the good in him, even when he doesn’t see it himself.

He starts to mimic your habits, like giving Alfred small compliments or trying to look on the bright side, but he’ll deny it if you call him out.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce admires your positivity but doesn’t always understand it. “How do you manage to stay so cheerful in Gotham of all places?”

At first, he worries your optimism will make you naive, but he quickly realizes it’s your strength.

Your energy is a stark contrast to his brooding nature, and he starts leaning on it more than he cares to admit.

When he’s stuck in his head or doubting himself, you always know what to say to pull him out of it.

“You make it sound so simple,” he says after you give him one of your pep talks. But he smiles because somehow, you do make it simple.

You bring a sense of warmth and nostalgia into the Wayne Manor. Bruce finds himself more relaxed when you’re around, even in the middle of chaos.

He’ll never admit it to the others, but your optimism is one of his favorite things about you.

[justarkive]

THE JEONS | smut drabble 3

Ass Or Tits? (…Both + 1) 🔞

summary: a collection of chaotic family drabbles. thats it.

contents: family!au, non.idol jungkook, girl!dad jk, fluff, angst, sensitive topics + smut sometimes!

• chapter contents: smut!! unhinged devotion, horny affection, unprotected sex, chaotic couple energy, soft!kook but filthy smut hehe, body worship lowk. oral f receiving, anal play (rimming), nose in ur puss, tongue in ass, hands on tits… TRIPLE KILL. groping, nipple play, cum on skin, he rubs it in lol, mild spanking, face-sitting adjacent behavior?, he’s obsessed with ur ass fr, possessive!jungkook, one braincell between u both, sex but make it cinematic and unserious, romantic filth, giggly sex, “i wish we could do missionary and doggy at the same time”— and he fuckin does it… not QUITE. but he does it in his own way.

• taglist: @jenniebyrubies @lovingkoalaface @iamstilljk @elinaki92 @rpwprpwprpwprw @mafersame @parkinglot-nights @reallygenerouskoala @mimi1097 @aznstoner @jungshaking @pinkpunkdynamite @angie-x3 (check pinned to be added)

masterlist, series masterlist

Jungkook loves every single part of your body—and he makes sure you know it.

Your face? He kisses it. Slowly, obsessively, like he’s tracing every freckle with his mouth.

Your neck? He marks it. Low and dangerous, where only he gets to see.

Your tits? He’s no better than Hana, truly—always latched on, always greedy.

Your stomach? He’ll cum all over it, no shame, just moaning about how pretty you look covered in him.

Your pussy? Nothing compares. It’s his weakness, his damn religion. He’d pray to it if he could.

Your thighs? He bites them. Sinks his teeth in like he’s starving.

Your legs? Rubbed absently while you sit in his lap, his hand lazily stroking like you’re a pet he can’t stop touching.

Toes? Don’t test him. He’d suck them clean if you asked.

But your ass?

Your ass is where he dies.

Outside the bedroom, he’s no better. He’s got a hand on it constantly—squeezing, slapping, gripping it through your clothes like it’s his stress ball.

Oversized shirts and his boxers are his favorite thing you wear. He swears they’re dangerous. The way the cotton barely hangs on, the way your ass fills out those boxers too well—it drives him insane. And when you lift your arms to stretch and the shirt rides up just enough to flash the curve of it?

Dead man.

You know how weak he is for it. You’ve known for a while. And maybe that’s why you do it now—why you walk past him with nothing but one of his T-shirts and your ass on full display, glancing back with a smirk as you feel his stare burn into you.

You don’t even make it to the bed.

He’s on you before you can blink, dragging your hips back toward the couch, pushing you forward until your hands are braced against the cushions.

“Fuck—” he mutters, voice thick with reverence and hunger, already shoving the shirt up over your back, palms greedily gripping and squeezing. “Look at that. You know what you’re doing to me?”

You giggle, wiggling back into him. “No idea.”

He groans, lining himself up behind you, nudging his cock between your cheeks before pushing into you with a hiss.

“Gonna cum all over it,” he babbles, thrusting deep, dizzy. “So fucking pretty—fuck—you’re gonna let me? Baby, yeah?”

You can only nod, moaning as he hits that sweet spot over and over, breath stuttering with every bounce of your ass against his hips.

And when you say, “Do it, Jungkook—cum all over it,” in that breathy little voice?

He’s a fucking goner.

He’s thrusting into you hard—deep and heavy, hips slapping against your ass with every stroke, greedy hands keeping you exactly where he wants you. You’re whining, moaning, every sound caught between his name and broken curses.

You’re expecting him to say something filthy. Something sexy. He always does.

But instead—

“I wish,” he pants, breath hot against your shoulder, “we could do doggy and missionary at the same time.”

You blink. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he groans, thrust stuttering a little. “Like—if I could see your face and your tits and your ass at the same time? I don’t think I’d last, baby. I’d probably cum in, like, five seconds tops.”

You freeze for a second. He sounds genuinely mournful about it. Like it’s his greatest sexual tragedy.

And then—god, the image—you burst out laughing. Full-body shaking kind of laughter, muffled into your arm, your stomach tightening and your pussy clenching hard around him as you try to breathe through it.

And Jungkook?

Jungkook chokes. “Fuck—!”

You feel it before you hear it—the way his hips stutter, the low moan he tries (and fails) to swallow. You clench again by accident, and he gasps, pulling out at the very last second and barely managing to finish on your ass.

Barely.

You look over your shoulder, still giggling like an idiot.

He’s standing there, blinking down at you, looking like he’s just been personally wronged. “There’s not even that much,” he pouts, rubbing his thumb through the mess he managed to make. “That wasn’t fair. You cheated.”

You’re breathless from laughing, face smushed into the couch cushion. “I cheated?”

“You clenched. On purpose.”

“I was laughing!”

“Exactly!” He grumbles, smearing his cum across your skin anyway, palm wide and lazy over the swell of your ass like it’s his personal playground.

You hum, still giggling. “Come on, Kook. Make me cum.”

His complaints die immediately.

Gone. Buried. Forgotten.

His face is between your cheeks in a second—mumbling something that sounds like “not even mad anymore,” while his tongue drags through your folds with reverence, hands keeping you spread and trembling.

And you just grin, melting into the cushions, eyes fluttering closed while he eats like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted.

Because, well. It kinda is.

Your back arches against the sheets, hands tangled in his hair, tugging without direction—just needing something to hold onto.

“Oh—fuck, Jungkook—fuck,” you whimper, eyes fluttering, thighs twitching. “Thought—thought you were a tits guy.”

His eyes flash up at you. He doesn’t stop. Not even a little. Just lifts his head barely enough to say, with his mouth still shining and open, “Say it again.”

You bite your lip, gasping through a moan. “Thought you were a—tits guy…”

He groans. Visibly. Like the sound rocks through his whole chest.

“Baby,” he says, voice low, dark, wrecked. “I’m both.”

He kisses your clit once, slow and soft, then moves down again, mouthing messily at your folds.

“But this ass?” He grumbles into you, nosing lower just to prove his point. “This ass has been fucking killing me lately.”

Your breath stutters out of your lungs, a high whine in your throat. You squirm, reaching down blindly until you find his hands, and guide them up—pressing them against your chest, your voice all whimpery and slurred when you pout, “But you’re leaving them out…”

He melts.

Like, literally. His whole body goes soft and gooey for a second, his hands squeezing gently over your tits like he’s petting something delicate and breakable, his thumbs brushing lazy circles over your nipples.

“Cute,” he mutters, voice muffled as he dives back down between your thighs. “You’re so fucking cute, baby.”

You whimper.

He moans.

“You don’t believe me?” he murmurs, breath warm and wicked as it fans across your inner thigh. “Think I’m lying when I say I’m both?”

You can’t even form words—you just stare down at him, dazed and breathless, lips parted, body trembling.

“I’ll prove it.”

And then he does.

He kisses down your stomach, slow and sticky and worshipful, one hand staying high to cup your tits—thumb swiping over your nipple, squeezing gently like it grounds him. The other slides under your thigh, spreading you open wider than you thought possible.

And then—he’s everywhere.

Like literally.

Nose pressed flush to your clit, nuzzling against it like it’s his fucking home. Tongue dipping lower, deeper, licking into your ass without a hint of shame. And all the while—his hands never leave your chest. He’s palming you, groping you, kneading you like you’re everything he’s ever wanted and he’s been starved.

It’s obscene. It’s overwhelming. It’s all-consuming.

You cry out, loud and broken, as your hips jerk and your hands claw at his hair.

“Jungkook—fuck, fuck—” your voice is high and unraveling, thighs shaking around his head as your orgasm punches through you like lightning. “I—I can’t—oh my god—”

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t come up for air. His nose still nudging your clit, tongue still buried inside your ass, hands full of tits like he’s living out the fantasy he once only joked about.

Missionary and doggy. At the same time.

Not quite, but close.

And you’re the only one laughing. A choked, dazed giggle slips from your throat even as you’re trembling, and the moment your body pulses again around his face—he groans.

Loud. Deep.

You cry out as you come, high and broken, hips twitching, hands fisting the sheets as your body pulses and clenches and pours out against his mouth.

And he—he licks it up like he’s starving.

Like it’s dessert. Like it’s devotion.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, half-laughing, half-crying, overstimulated and twitchy. “Jungkook—”

But he doesn’t stop.

You’re still coming down and he’s still between your legs, mouth still dragging along you like he could live there, like he wants to live there.

You have to physically pull at his shoulders, tugging him up, shaking your head as you whimper, “Stop, stop—baby, please—”

And then he’s crawling up your body, face wrecked, lips wet, chest heaving, and lifting you into his lap like he didn’t just destroy you. You’re a mess of limp limbs and overstimulated nerves, curling into him with a ragged breath and wide eyes.

You bury your face in his neck, trembling and wrecked, and mumble into his skin, “You’re insane.”

He grins—unrepentant and breathless. “And you’re cute.”

[pucksandpower]

Leave My Mark

Day 4 → Bruise Marking 💋 Lando Norris

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

Lando’s eyes flicker with something that’s not quite anger, not quite fear, but somewhere in the middle — a dark, consuming tension that sends a shiver down your spine. The hotel room is dimly lit, just a sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. He’s pacing now, his movements sharp, precise, a contrast to the chaotic mess of emotions wrestling within him.

“You know what it looked like, right?” His voice is low, almost too calm, like the quiet before a storm. He stops and looks at you, eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to read something off your face, something he doesn’t want to find. “The way you were laughing with him … the way you touched his arm.”

You fold your arms, trying to keep your voice steady. “Lando, it was nothing. Oscar needed someone to talk to, and I was just being there for him. As a friend.”

“A friend?” The words leave his mouth like they’re poisoned, like they burn his tongue. “Friends don’t look at each other like that. They don’t touch each other like that.”

You blink, surprised at the venom in his tone. “Like what?”

His jaw clenches, and he takes a step closer, the space between you evaporating. “Like you’re more than just friends. Like he could be something more to you.”

You shake your head, exhaling slowly. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He’s closer now, so close you can feel the heat radiating off his body, can see the way his chest rises and falls in a rhythm that’s too fast, too irregular. “Because all I see is you smiling at him, touching him, and I can’t stand it.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. You swallow hard, trying to push back the rising tide of frustration and disbelief. “Lando, this is crazy. I’m with you. Only you.”

He stares at you, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark and stormy. For a moment, you think he’s going to say something — something sharp, something cruel — but instead, he reaches out, his hand brushing your neck. His touch is firm, almost possessive, and your breath catches as his fingers wrap around your throat, not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough to make you aware of how easily he could.

“You’re mine,” he says quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “You know that, right? You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone take you away from me.”

You meet his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, a mix of fear and something else, something you can’t quite name. “Lando …”

His grip tightens just slightly, and your pulse quickens. “Say it.”

“What?”

“Say you’re mine.” His voice is low, almost dangerous, like a predator cornering its prey. “Say it, and mean it.”

You swallow hard, feeling the weight of his hand, the intensity of his stare. “I’m yours, Lando. Only yours.”

Something flickers in his eyes — satisfaction, maybe, or relief — and his grip loosens, just a fraction. “Good.” He’s breathing hard, his forehead nearly touching yours. “Because I won’t share you. Not with him, not with anyone.”

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart under your fingertips. “Lando, I love you. I wouldn’t … I couldn’t … Oscar’s just a friend. I was only trying to help him.”

He closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, as if he’s trying to calm himself down. When he opens them again, there’s something softer there, something more vulnerable. “I know. I know that, deep down. But when I see you with him, it drives me crazy. I can’t help it.”

You lean into him, resting your head against his chest. “You don’t have to be jealous. I’m here with you. I chose you.”

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. “I just … I hate the thought of you being close to someone else. I can’t stand it.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes searching his. “Then don’t think about it. Think about us, right now. I’m here, with you. That’s all that matters.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares at you like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face. Then, slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s both tender and desperate, like he’s trying to prove something to himself, to you.

You kiss him back, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The tension between you dissolves into something else, something warm and intense and consuming. His hands move to your waist, pulling you even closer, until there’s no space left between you.

When he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his eyes dark with something you can’t quite name. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Likewise.”

He laughs softly, but there’s still that edge in his voice, that undercurrent of possessiveness that hasn’t quite gone away. “But you’re mine, right? Only mine?”

You nod, your heart swelling with something warm and fierce. “Only yours.”

He presses his forehead against yours, his hands sliding up to cup your face. “I love you. God, I love you so much it scares me.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I love you too, Lando. More than anything.”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, the warmth of his body against yours, the steady beat of his heart. Then he pulls you into another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent, like he’s trying to claim you, to make sure you understand just how much you mean to him.

His hands move to your throat again, fingers wrapping around your neck, and this time, there’s no mistaking the intent behind his touch. He’s claiming you, marking you as his, and you don’t resist, don’t pull away, because you want it, need it just as much as he does.

“You’re mine,” he whispers against your lips, his grip tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. “Say it.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m yours.”

His grip tightens further, and for a moment, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can only feel the intensity of his gaze, the heat of his body pressed against yours. Then he releases you, just enough to let you breathe again, and you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

“You’re mine,” he says again, his voice rough, desperate. “And I’m yours.”

You nod, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. “Yes.”

His lips crash against yours, and this time, the kiss is hungry, almost savage, as if he’s trying to devour you, to consume every part of you. You kiss him back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper.

When he pulls back, you’re both breathing hard, your foreheads pressed together, your bodies entwined. He looks at you, his eyes burning with something primal, something fierce. “I won’t let anyone take you away from me,” he murmurs, his voice raw, broken.

You shake your head, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. “No one could.”

He closes his eyes, his breath shuddering as he pulls you into his arms, holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. “Stay with me. Always.”

You press a kiss to his shoulder, your heart swelling with love, with something deeper, something unbreakable. “Always.”

For a while, you just hold each other, the storm that raged between you slowly calming into something quieter, more peaceful. But there’s still that undercurrent of tension, that edge that hasn’t quite faded, and you know it’s going to take time — time for him to fully trust, to fully believe that you’re his and only his.

But for now, this is enough. The two of you, together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten, irrelevant. And in this moment, you know that no matter what happens, no matter what obstacles you face, you’ll face them together, as long as you both hold on, as long as you both remember that this, right here, is what matters most.

And with Lando’s arms around you, his breath warm against your skin, you know that you will.

***

Morning light filters through the hotel curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. Lando wakes first, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light as he shifts under the covers.

The first thing he notices is the warmth of your body curled up beside him, your hair splayed across the pillow, your breathing steady and calm. For a moment, he just watches you, a small smile tugging at his lips as he remembers the night before, the intensity of it, the way you gave yourself to him so completely.

But then, as his eyes trail down your neck, his smile fades. There, on the pale skin of your throat, are faint bruises, the marks of his hands, a reminder of how fiercely he held you, how desperately he wanted to claim you as his. A pang of guilt twists in his chest, and he reaches out, his fingers brushing gently over the bruises, as if he can erase them with a touch.

You stir at the contact, blinking sleepily as you wake up, your eyes meeting his. “Morning,” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning,” he replies, but his voice is quieter, more subdued, as his fingers continue to trace the marks on your neck. “Did I … did I hurt you?”

You frown slightly, still half-asleep, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”

He swallows, his gaze fixed on the bruises. “Your neck … I didn’t mean to leave these.”

You reach up, your fingers grazing the marks, and then you understand. “Oh.” Your voice is soft, a little uncertain, as you glance at him. “It’s okay, Lando. They don’t hurt.”

But he’s already moving, sitting up and reaching for something on the nightstand. “I should’ve been more careful. Let me … let me put something on them.” He finds a small tube of ointment in his bag and unscrews the cap, squeezing a bit onto his fingers before turning back to you.

“Lando, you don’t have to-”

“I want to,” he interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “Please.”

You nod, sitting up and letting the blanket fall away from your shoulders, exposing the marks on your neck fully. He leans in closer, his expression concentrated, almost tender, as he carefully dabs the ointment onto the bruises, his fingers warm against your skin. His touch is so gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s afraid of hurting you further.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough with guilt. He presses a soft kiss to one of the bruises, his lips lingering there for a moment. “I didn’t mean to …”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, your fingers brushing against his cheek, trying to soothe him. “I know you didn’t mean to.”

He moves to another bruise, rubbing the ointment in slowly, methodically, before kissing the spot again. “I got carried away.”

You bite your lip, hesitating for a moment before you finally speak. “I … I liked it.”

He stops, his hand frozen against your skin as he looks up at you, his eyes searching yours. “You did?”

You nod, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks. “Yeah. I liked how … how you took control. How you made me feel like I was completely yours.”

Something in his eyes softens, the guilt slowly ebbing away, replaced by something else — something darker, more intense. “You liked it?” he repeats, his voice quieter, almost disbelieving.

“Yes,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “It … it turned me on, Lando.”

His eyes darken, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You liked how I made you mine?”

A shiver runs down your spine, and you nod, your breath catching in your throat. “Yes.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes locked onto yours, his hand moving to cup your face. “Say it again.”

You swallow, your heart pounding as you meet his gaze. “I liked it. I liked how you took control.”

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, and he watches you intently, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “Tell me what you liked.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, you can’t find the words, too overwhelmed by the intensity in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the world. But then, slowly, you find your voice. “I liked how you held me … how you made me feel like I was completely yours. I liked how … how strong you were, how you didn’t let go.”

His eyes darken further, and he leans in, capturing your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. His hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his muscles tense under your touch. When he pulls back, his breathing is ragged, his forehead resting against yours.

“God, you drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you whisper back, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He kisses you again, softer this time, but no less intense, and when he pulls back, his hands move to your throat, his fingers tracing the bruises with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “You liked how I took control,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you, as if he’s trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice trembling with anticipation, with the need to feel that control again, to lose yourself in him.

He looks at you, his gaze piercing, and then, slowly, deliberately, he pushes you back onto the bed, his body hovering over yours. His hands find your wrists, pinning them above your head, and you gasp, your pulse quickening as you feel the weight of him against you, the way his body presses you into the mattress.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his voice low, rough.

“Of course,” you breathe, your eyes wide, your heart pounding.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck, against the bruises he left, and you feel a thrill of excitement, of anticipation, as he kisses each one, his lips warm and soft against your skin. “I want to make you feel good,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “I want to make you fall apart.”

You swallow hard, your breath catching in your throat as his words sink in, as his hands move down your body, trailing fire in their wake. “Lando …”

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, with something deeper, something more intense than you’ve ever seen before. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear, making you shiver.

“I want you,” you reply, your voice trembling with need, with the overwhelming desire that’s building inside you. “I want you to take control.”

He smiles, a slow, wicked smile that makes your heart skip a beat, and then he’s kissing you again, hard and demanding, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you against him. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s holding himself back, the way he’s trying to keep himself in check, and it only makes you want him more.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, your voice barely audible, but you know he hears it, because he groans softly, his hands tightening on your hips.

“You don’t have to ask,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost dangerous. “I’m going to give you everything you want.”

And he does. His hands are everywhere, touching, caressing, claiming, as he makes you feel things you didn’t know you could feel, as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, until you’re gasping, trembling, completely at his mercy.

He’s relentless, his mouth on your skin, his hands on your body, as he takes you apart piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the feel of him, the sound of his voice, the overwhelming need that consumes you.

“Lando,” you gasp, your hands clutching at the sheets, your body arching against his, desperate for more, for everything.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, his voice rough, raw, as he pushes you closer, closer, until you can’t take it anymore, until you’re falling, shattering, completely undone.

When it’s over, when you’re lying there in his arms, your heart still racing, your breath still coming in uneven gasps, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek, your eyes meeting his. “You didn’t hurt me, Lando. You made me feel … amazing. I’ve never felt like that before.”

He smiles, a small, relieved smile, and he leans down to kiss you, soft and slow, his lips lingering on yours. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice full of emotion, full of something deep and unbreakable. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart swelling with love, with something even deeper, something that goes beyond words. “So much.”

For a while, you just lie there together, your bodies entwined, breathing slowly coming back to normal. Lando’s hand absentmindedly caresses your side, his fingers tracing soft circles on your skin. The quiet in the room feels like a protective cocoon, safe and warm, where nothing exists but the two of you.

Then, after a long silence, Lando shifts slightly, his hand moving up to your neck again, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruises he left. You feel him smile against your hair, and his voice is low, almost a purr as he murmurs, “You bruise so prettily, you know that?”

You shiver at his words, a thrill of something dark and thrilling running through you. He doesn’t stop, his fingers trailing over each mark with an almost possessive reverence. “I love seeing these on you,” he continues, his voice a soft, dangerous whisper. “Knowing that I put them there. That you’re mine.”

You can feel the intensity in his words, the way they’re weighted with a fierce, undeniable possessiveness, and it sends a pulse of heat through you, a mix of fear and excitement that makes your heart race. “Lando …” you breathe, your voice trembling, your body already responding to the way he’s touching you, the way he’s talking to you.

He shifts, hovering over you, his gaze dark and hungry as he takes in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips. “I want to mark you up even more,” he whispers, his voice rough with desire. “I want everyone to see these bruises and know exactly who you belong to.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse quickening at the thought of it, at the idea of wearing his marks, of being claimed by him in such a visible, undeniable way. “You want that?” You ask, your voice shaky, filled with anticipation.

His eyes meet yours, and there’s something fierce and possessive in his gaze as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “I want to leave my mark on you,” he murmurs, his voice low, dangerous. “I want to bruise every inch of your skin until there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that you’re mine.”

You shiver at his words, a thrill of excitement running through you, and you nod, unable to form words as the intensity of his desire, of his need, crashes over you. “Please,” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling, your body already responding to the promise in his words.

He smiles, a slow, wicked smile that makes your heart race, and then his hands are on you again, his fingers tracing your skin, finding every bruise he left, pressing down just enough to make you gasp, to remind you of the intensity of the night before. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks, his voice a dark, teasing whisper. “You like knowing that I’ve marked you, that everyone can see how much I want you.”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely audible, your body arching under his touch, desperate for more.

He leans down, pressing soft kisses to your neck, to the bruises he left, his lips warm against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with a dark, possessive hunger. “So perfect. I can’t wait to mark you up even more.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel your breath quicken, your body already responding to the promise in his voice, to the way he’s touching you, the way he’s claiming you. “Lando …”

He smirks against your skin, his teeth grazing your neck, just enough to make you gasp, to send a sharp thrill of pleasure-pain through you. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice rough, dangerous. “And I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

Before you can respond, his hands move lower, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other trailing down your body, teasing, exploring. His touch is slow, deliberate, as if he’s savoring the moment, as if he’s taking his time to appreciate every reaction, every shiver, every gasp that escapes your lips.

Then, without warning, his hand slides between your legs, finding your clit, and he pinches down, cruel and relentless. You cry out, your body arching against him, the sudden intensity of it sending a shockwave of pleasure-pain through you, unraveling you completely.

“Lando!” You gasp, your voice trembling, your body quaking under his touch.

He doesn’t relent, his fingers moving with a ruthless precision, his other hand still holding your wrists tightly above your head, keeping you pinned, keeping you at his mercy. “You like this, don’t you?” He whispers, his voice dark and teasing, as he continues to torment you, to push you further and further over the edge.

“Yes!” You cry out, unable to control the sounds escaping you, the intensity of it too much, too overwhelming.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and heavy as he whispers, “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours!” You gasp, your voice breaking, your body shaking with the force of the pleasure coursing through you.

His fingers pinch down harder, and you cry out again, your body completely out of control, completely at his mercy. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice rough, filled with a dark, possessive hunger.

“I’m yours, Lando!” You cry, your voice trembling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you fall apart completely, your body shattering under his touch.

He watches you, his eyes dark and hungry, his hand relentless as he pushes you over the edge again and again, until you’re nothing but a trembling, gasping mess beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough, as he watches you unravel. “You’re mine. All mine.”

Finally, when you think you can’t take it anymore, when your body is trembling and shaking with the force of the pleasure-pain, he slows, his touch becoming gentler, more tender. He releases your wrists, his hand moving to cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that have escaped down your cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice filled with awe, with something deep and unbreakable. “So perfect.”

You’re still gasping for breath, your body still trembling from the intensity of it all, but you manage to meet his gaze, your eyes filled with a mix of love, desire, and something deeper, something that goes beyond words. “Lando …” you breathe, your voice shaky, your heart pounding in your chest.

He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his hand still cupping your face, his touch gentle, tender. “I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your voice filled with all the emotion, all the love, all the desire you feel for him.

He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, his body warm and comforting against yours. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice soft, filled with regret. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You shake your head, pressing a kiss to his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, the warmth of his skin. “You didn’t hurt me, Lando,” you whisper back, your voice soft, filled with love. “You made me feel … everything.”

He smiles, a small, relieved smile, and he presses another kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close. “You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice a soft, possessive murmur. “And I’m never letting you go.”

You smile, your heart swelling with love, with something deeper, something that goes beyond words, and you snuggle closer to him, feeling the warmth, the safety of his embrace. “I’m yours,” you whisper back, your voice filled with all the emotion, all the love you feel for him. “Always.”

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK-A-CARD: What are your Special person's true thoughts about you? ✮⋆˙

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images above. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you, go ahead and read both!

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MY MASTERLIST 🫶🏻

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｡𖦹°‧Pile I

First of all, for some of them, your sp is literally screaming mentally, “OMG, WHO IS THIS CHAOTIC ANGEL?” ✨ Your SP sees you as someone so refreshing and unpredictable, very cutesy, like a brand-new Netflix series they just started and suddenly can’t stop bingeing. You bring this lighthearted, free-spirited energy into their life, and honestly? They’re kind of obsessed. Then we have the 9 of Cups, aka the "you’re literally everything I’ve been manifesting but now I don’t know what to do with myself" card. 💀 They see you as dream person material, like you check off boxes they didn’t even know they had. You’re fun, confident, and magnetic, and you probably don’t even realize how much power you have over them. The way they think about you? They’re imagining cute dates, shared playlists, and you laughing at their (probably bad) jokes. tch tch. BUT HERE’S THE PLOT TWIST, So, while they’re out here crushing HARD, The Devil reversed is exposing their inner demons (I was hearing positions by ariana grande here😭). You might not even realize it, but they’re fighting some deep-seated fears when it comes to you. This could be attachment issues, past heartbreak, or the fact that you make them feel vulnerable in a way they’re not used to. Like, one second they’re staring at your pictures like “😍,” and the next they’re having an existential crisis in the shower. i feel like, even though externally they might come off as really strong and brave but on an inside they are an emotional mess 24/7. And then we have the 3 of Swords, which is like the tarot version of "I want this but I’m scared of getting hurt." so here the interpretation from the devil is confirmed. Whether it’s because of past experiences or just their own insecurities, this person is lowkey terrified of catching feelings too hard. If this is a situationship or crush, they might be keeping their guard up, acting all nonchalant, but internally? They’re NOT having it easy. If y’all are together, there’s this underlying fear of messing things up, or even thoughts like, “Do I deserve this?”.

WAIT- YKW GUYS if you are thinking of dating this person, you'll cuz my cards are giving me a STRAIGHT NO. at least the first step shouldn't be yours.

although SP is so into you but doesn’t know how to handle it. It’s like they wished for their dream person (you), and the universe was like, “Bet,” and now they’re sitting there like, “Wait… I wasn’t ready.” 💀 They adore your free-spirited energy, think you’re hot, fun, and exciting, but there’s this internal battle going on where they’re both obsessed with you and terrified of their own emotions. Classic. I HATE THIS SITUATION. Expect them to act a little hot-and-cold (CUE KATY PERRY) while they figure their sh*t out. But, they think about you all the time.

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｡𖦹°‧Pile II

BEFORE I START, THIS PILE WOULD'VE BEEN MUCH BETTER AS AN 18+ READING.

Okay, first things first, your SP sees value in you. The Ace of Pentacles is big commitment energy. It’s like they’ve looked at you and thought, “Damn, this could actually be something real.” They’re not just seeing you as a casual situationship or a passing crush. Nope.

BUT The 9 of Swords here is SCREAMING late-night anxiety spiral. This person is overthinking EVERYTHING. Like, “What if I mess this up? What if I’m not good enough? What if they don’t feel the same way? What if I trip and fall in front of them and they ick forever???” 🫠 (DUDE. CHILL.) They’re self-sabotaging in their own head, thinking about worst-case scenarios that probably don’t even exist.

So while they see you as someone who could bring stability, growth, and something long-term, they’re simultaneously battling their inner demons like it’s the final boss fight. They want to go all in, but they’re terrified. Why? Because you’re not someone they can just forget if things don’t work out. (THAT'S THE ENERGY WE NEED IN OUR LIVES)

The Ace of Wands is straight-up....UHM- intense attraction YKWIM (I might as well start writing 18+ readings now because these SPs are not thinking Bible-friendly thoughts💀) . This person is super into you, and not just in a “wow, they’re cute” way, but in a “why do I suddenly want to write poetry about them at 2 a.m.?” way. The chemistry is INSANE. They think about you constantly (and yeah, in that way too.). You’re literally igniting something in them that they haven’t felt in a long time, and it’s driving them absolutely feral. Because while their brain is going “OMG, they’re so attractive, I want to risk it all”, their conscience is like… “Be serious. Think long-term. Respect yourself.” 💀 they’re genuinely torn between wanting to run wild with their feelings and doing things the “right” way, whatever that means to them.

So imagine them trying to focus on their daily life, work, school, responsibilities, and then BAM, a thought of you hits them like a truck. They could be in a meeting, at the gym, grocery shopping, whatever, and suddenly they’re blushing like an idiot thinking about you. It’s bad.

Your SP is down bad in every possible way, emotionally, mentally, PHYSICALLY and spiritually. 😵‍💫 They see you as someone they could build something REAL with, but their brain is doing the absolute most trying to figure out how to handle these feelings. They’re excited but scared, obsessed but hesitant, respectful but completely feral. Expect them to move slow but with purpose. This isn’t someone who’s gonna play games or act reckless with your feelings, they’re genuinely trying to be the best version of themselves for you. But in the meantime? Yeah, they’re definitely losing sleep over you.

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｡𖦹°‧Pile III

Alright, dear pile 3, see a place around you and sit down because I need you to understand something…

Your SP? Losing their mind. Crumbling. Rewriting their entire emotional hard drive because of you. They’re obsessing, spiraling, questioning every life choice that has led them to this exact moment. And frankly? It’s hilarious. 😭 (this SP reminds me of my fanfiction era). This person is lying awake at night staring at the ceiling, replaying every interaction with you like a Netflix series they can’t pause. The romantic tension is REAL. out of all the piles, they have them most " helplessly obsessed but want to keep it to themselves" kind of energy

Their inner monologue is something like:

“Why do I feel like this???”

“This wasn’t in my 5-year plan???”

“Am I in love or just dehydrated???”

“No, but seriously… do they like me back or am I delulu??”

It’s giving panicked rom-com protagonist, except instead of confessing their love in the rain, they’re avoiding eye contact and internally combusting every time you’re around. 😭 But here’s the tea, The Lovers is here. Meaning? They’re feeling some type of way about you, and it’s not casual. This is deep, meaningful, life-altering type of interest. You might be their “oh sh*t, this could be THE ONE” person, and that realization is SENDING them into a full existential crisis.Your SP have been through it. They’ve got this heartbreak kind of vibe and emotional walls taller than the Burj Khalifa. They weren’t even planning to catch feelings! But then you showed up radiating main character energy, and suddenly… They’re rethinking everything.

10 of Wands reversed means they’ve been carrying too much for too long, but something about you makes them want to put the emotional backpack down and breathe. Like, “Wait… I don’t have to be the strong, exhausted, emotionally unavailable person forever???” And THEN we have The World, which is literally the card of completion, wholeness, and leveling up. In short? You’re the plot twist they didn’t see coming. You make them feel like they’re stepping into a new phase of their life, and that’s both exciting and terrifying. They’re realizing they can’t just keep running from their emotions, because the way they feel about you? It’s real. It’s big. It’s undeniable.

Your SP is in emotional shambles over you, bestie. 💀 They’re out here stressing, catching feelings, and trying to figure out whether to fight or surrender to this connection. So if they’re acting weird? That’s why. They’re literally experiencing an existential crisis over YOU. 😭They see you as THE person. The one who could change their life. The one who makes them feel safe, understood, and lowkey terrified because the feelings are TOO STRONG. So now they’re trying to decide whether to run away from these emotions… or risk it all. Moral of the story? Sit pretty and let them suffer. 😌✨ They’ll come to their senses eventually. Or they’ll continue panicking. Either way? You win. 💅🔥

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Thank you so much for reading all the way through! I hope my reading resonated with you and that you had a lovely time going through it. If you enjoyed it, please like and reblog, it really means a lot! Let me know which pile you chose; I absolutely love hearing your thoughts and feedback on my readings! ♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

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[solxamber]

Match Made in Madness - Floyd Leech x reader

Soulmates get updates of each other's lives through an overly enthusiastic dream narrator. What's worse is that your soulmate seems to be completely unhinged.

It all starts on another one of those nights—the weird dream where your soulmate’s day is narrated to you in the most ridiculous fashion imaginable. No names, no faces, just an over-the-top, enthusiastic narrator who acts like they’re introducing a daytime soap.

"Good evening, soulmate! Ready for another wild day? Well, buckle up, because your beloved got into a fight with a vending machine!"

You groan in your sleep, already bracing for what’s next. The narrator continues with gleeful energy:

"After losing said battle, your soulmate kicked the machine and declared, ‘I’ll have the last laugh, metal box!’ Later in the day, they spent 45 minutes trying to convince a bird to become their personal spy. Spoiler alert: the bird didn’t agree, but they’re not giving up anytime soon!"

When you wake up, you rub your eyes and mutter, "What the hell is my soulmate doing?" Clearly, the universe decided to match you with an absolute madman, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ll even survive meeting them.

The dreams continue for weeks, and the updates get progressively weirder. Whoever this person is, they have the chaotic energy of a tornado in a convenience store. One night, you get this gem:

"Exciting news! Today, your soulmate tried to see if they could juggle three eels at once. Spoiler: they couldn’t, but they did manage to send one flying into a professor’s lunch. Next on the agenda, they challenged the ocean to a race. The ocean won."

You’re so used to these bizarre updates by now that you don’t even flinch. Instead, you’re beginning to wonder why the universe thinks it’s funny to torture you with someone who clearly doesn’t have a firm grasp on reality.

And then one night, the narrator drops a bombshell:

"Your soulmate spent the entire afternoon wondering if there’s any way they could convince their twin brother to switch places with them on a date— Oh wait, forget I said that! That one’s classified!*"

What? Now, you’re officially on edge. Not only do they have a twin, but they’ve been thinking about dating? This is spiraling out of control.

You’re sitting at the Mostro Lounge, thinking about the increasingly unhinged dreams when you spot Floyd Leech across the room. Normally, you’d ignore him because, well, Floyd has a reputation, and it’s not exactly “outstanding member of society.”

But today, something feels off. You’ve heard a few things—people say he’s chaotic, unpredictable, and obsessed with “playing” with his victims. And suddenly, you can’t stop thinking about the dream where your soulmate tried to juggle eels.

Floyd catches your eye, and before you can look away, he’s making a beeline for your table. Oh no. Please no.

“Hey, Shrimpy,” he says with his usual, lazy grin, flopping down in the seat next to you like he owns the place. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Close enough.

You swallow hard. “Uh… just thinking.”

“Thinking, huh?” Floyd leans in, uncomfortably close. “What about?”

How are you supposed to say, I think you’re my soulmate, but I’m also convinced you’re a lunatic? Instead, you nervously laugh. “Oh, nothing. Just… dreams.”

“Dreams, huh?” Floyd’s eyes narrow, but he looks more interested than suspicious. “Like… those ones where some random guy is juggling eels?”

Your blood runs cold.

“Wait—how did you know about the eels?”

Floyd’s grin widens. “Oh? So it is you! I knew it!” He laughs, leaning back with a satisfied look, like he’s just solved the greatest mystery of his life. “Shrimpy, you’re hilarious! I’ve been having those dreams about you, too. You’re always doing weird stuff, like… rescuing ducks or tripping over your own feet.”

Your heart races. “Wait, so—you're my soulmate?”

“Duh,” Floyd says, rolling his eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The universe has a sense of humor, doesn’t it?”

At first, you’re convinced this is a prank, a cruel joke. But the more you talk to Floyd, the more everything starts to click into place. He’s chaotic, sure. Completely unpredictable? Absolutely. But he’s also the same person who, according to your dreams, once wondered if seaweed could be used as a fashion statement. He’s also the guy who—oh right—challenged the ocean to a race.

And now that you’ve met him, you realize one important detail: he’s perfect.

Well, perfect in the most unhinged way possible.

A week later, you find yourself in an increasingly ridiculous situation—Floyd has somehow convinced you to help him “steal” a giant fish from the campus pond.

“Why are we doing this again?” you ask, holding the bucket as he dives headfirst into the water.

“Because,” Floyd says between splashes, “the fish looks like he’s having a bad day, so we’re gonna give him a makeover.”

You stare blankly at the pond. “You want to makeover a fish.”

Floyd pops back up, water dripping from his hair, with a grin that could melt glaciers. “Yeah! Why not?”

You don’t have a good answer for that, so you just shrug. This is my life now.

That night, you’re lying in bed, starting to doze off, when the dream narrator pops up again:

"Good evening, soulmate! Today, your other half tried to give a fish a new look. It didn’t work, but they still had fun! Also, they’ve been thinking about holding your hand."

You wake up with a groan, rubbing your face in disbelief. Of course, Floyd would think about something like that in the middle of a fish-stealing escapade. But there’s something undeniably sweet about it, too.

The next day, Floyd grabs your hand without warning as you’re walking through campus. “I had a dream about this,” he says casually, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

You smile, squeezing his hand back. “So did I.”

Maybe the universe isn’t such a prankster after all.

Masterlist

[duvetchico]

tiny human

summary when y/n’s sister has to leave town for a few days, she asks y/n to babysit her toddler niece. jimin is unreasonably excited and becomes mom of the year overnight. y/n? y/n is spiraling because holy shit she’s in love.

genre extreme domestic fluff / baby fever / established relationship

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

masterlist.

when your sister first asks you to babysit your niece for a few days, you panic.

when your girlfriend hears about it, she sprints into the room yelling, “YES. FINALLY. GIVE ME THE BABY.”

you blink. “jimin, she’s two.”

“perfect age. chaotic. teething. developing opinions. i’m ready for battle.”

day one.

you’re half-asleep in the living room. your niece is sitting on jimin’s lap, watching cocomelon like it’s crack cocaine. jimin is—get this—singing along.

you stare at them. jimin catches your eye, grins, and mouths, “i’m gonna cry she’s so small.”

you melt.

jimin whispers to your niece, “between you and me, your aunt’s kinda dramatic.”

“am not,” you say, standing there with your arms crossed.

your niece stares at you.

jimin deadpans: “you cried during madagascar 2 last week.”

“SHUT UP IT WAS EMOTIONAL.”

later that night, your niece falls asleep on jimin’s chest while they’re coloring. jimin doesn’t move for two hours.

“baby,” you whisper, nudging her. “you can put her down.”

“no. she trusts me. she chose me. this is my child now.”

the next day,

you try to feed your niece.

she throws her broccoli.

you sigh. “i don’t think she wants it—”

“give me a sec,” jimin says. she turns to the toddler. “listen. you don’t gotta like it. but your tiny body needs this green tree. eat the tree and i’ll give you two strawberries after.”

the child pauses. grabs the broccoli. eats it.

you stare. “how did you do that.”

“i’m a milf,” she says proudly. “mentally intelligent loving figure.”

you spit out your juice.

evening.

your niece has a meltdown because she can’t find her stuffed bunny.

jimin, already wrapped in a weighted blanket on the couch, RISES LIKE A WARRIOR and says, “DON’T WORRY. I GOT THIS.”

twenty minutes later, jimin returns victorious, holding the bunny like mufasa presenting simba. your niece cheers. jimin takes a dramatic bow.

you lean against the doorway, arms crossed. “you’re kinda good at this.”

she grins at you. “so you agree. we should have three.”

“three what—”

“babies.”

“OH MY GOD—”

day three.

the power goes out during a thunderstorm. your niece gets scared and starts crying. before you can even reach her, jimin’s already scooping her up, whispering softly, kissing her forehead.

you watch from the doorway.

“do you think you’ll ever want kids?” you ask her later, curled up on the couch.

jimin blinks at you. “with you? one thousand percent. ten. a dozen. let’s build a football team.”

you laugh, face burning. “jimin.”

“seriously,” she says, pulling you closer. “you’d be such a good mom, baby. watching you this week? made me love you even more.”

you bury your face in her neck, hiding your red ears.

“stop. you’re embarrassing me.”

she kisses your head. “too bad. you’re mine forever. our future kids are stuck with us.”

later, when your niece is asleep, you wrap your arms around jimin from behind.

“i just like being around you,” she murmurs. “and this made me realize… i want all of it. the screaming. the cuddles. the stupid cartoons.”

she turns to face you. “i want a tiny you running around.”

you nearly explode on the spot.

last day.

your sister comes to pick her up.

your niece doesn’t want to leave. she hugs jimin like she’s saying goodbye to her favorite disney character.

jimin tears up a little. you do too.

“we’ll see you soon, okay?” she says, kneeling in front of her.

your niece nods. and then she says, ��bye mama two.”

you and jimin freeze.

your sister chokes.

jimin turns into literal glass.

you whisper, “you okay?”

“i’m in shambles. i need to go cry in the laundry room.”

later that night.

you’re lying in bed. jimin’s on her phone, scrolling through baby clothing like she’s online shopping for fun.

“you want matching overalls?” she asks.

“for us?”

“for our future spawn.”

you throw a pillow at her. “you’re insane.”

she giggles, catching the pillow and tossing it back.

“and you love it.”

you do. god, you do.

[woniescheeks]

Operation: Ass Slap

Synopsis: A playful smack here, a dramatic reaction there—turns out, teasing them is way more entertaining than you expected.

W/C: 2.2k   Warnings: Suggestive themes, playful teasing, excessive flirting, mild swearing, chaotic energy, dramatic reactions, mentions of violence (playful), second-hand embarrassment  Pairing: Enhypen ot7 x gn! reader  Genre: Fluff, Romance  AU: Established Relationship 

LEE HEESEUNG

You were lounging in the dorms when Heeseung stood up to grab something from the kitchen. As he passed by, your hand instinctively shot out, landing a playful smack on his ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Heeseung froze mid-step, turning to glare at you with wide eyes. 

“What the hell was that?” he asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. 

You shrugged nonchalantly, biting back a grin. “What? It was right there. I couldn’t resist.” 

Heeseung scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. You can’t just go around slapping people’s asses like that.” 

“Oh, but you do it to the members all the time,” you retorted, leaning back against the couch. “Double standards much?” 

“That’s different!” he exclaimed, pointing at you accusingly. “They’re my members. You’re—” He stopped himself, his face reddening slightly. “You’re you.” 

“And?” you teased, tilting your head. “What’s your point, Hee?” 

Heeseung groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re such a pain in the ass, you know that?” 

“Speaking of asses...” you said with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“Don’t even start,” he warned, though the corner of his mouth twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re so lucky Iove you.” 

“Aw, you love me?” you cooed, batting your eyelashes at him. “Say it again, Hee.” 

“Not a chance,” he shot back, grabbing a pillow from the couch and throwing it at you. “Now stop harassing me, you menace.” 

“Admit it, you secretly liked it,” you called after him as he walked away, flipping you off over his shoulder. 

PARK JONSEONG

Jay was busy cooking in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he stirred something on the stove. The delicious smell filled the room, but your focus was elsewhere—specifically, on the way his sweatpants fit a little too well. Before you could think twice, you walked up behind him and gave his ass a sharp slap. 

Jay jumped, almost dropping the spoon in his hand. “What the fuck?” he yelped, spinning around to face you. His eyes were wide, and his ears were already turning red. 

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Sorry, it was just... right there. Couldn’t help myself.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, pointing the spoon in your direction. “You have a death wish, don’t you?” 

“Relax, Chef Ramsay,” you teased, leaning against the counter. “Consider it a compliment.” 

“A compliment?” he repeated, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sure. Nothing screams ‘compliment’ like getting smacked in the ass while I’m cooking.” 

“Exactly,” you said with a grin. “It’s like... encouragement. You’re doing a great job, babe.” 

Jay groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re insufferable.” 

“And you love it,” you shot back, grabbing a piece of chopped carrot from the cutting board. 

“Love is a strong word,” he muttered, though the faint smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. 

“Admit it,” you said, stepping closer and poking his chest. “You secretly liked it.” 

Jay leaned down, his face inches from yours. “If you do it again, I’m kicking you out of the kitchen,” he said, his voice low and threatening—though the blush on his cheeks ruined the effect. 

“Noted,” you replied sweetly, patting his chest. “But no promises.” 

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, turning back to the stove. You could still see the tips of his ears burning red as he focused on cooking, muttering something about how you were a menace under his breath. 

SIM JAEYUN

Jake was sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through his phone while his legs dangled off the armrest. You walked by, taking in the perfect opportunity. Without hesitation, you swung your hand and smacked his ass. Hard. 

“Holy shit!” Jake yelped, nearly dropping his phone as he bolted upright. “What the hell was that for?” 

You doubled over with laughter, clutching your stomach. “Your reaction! Oh my God, Jake, you looked like you saw a ghost!” 

He glared at you, his cheeks turning pink. “You’re so fucking annoying. Who even does that?” 

“Me, apparently,” you said, grinning. “Nice reflexes, by the way.” 

Jake rolled his eyes, leaning back against the couch. “You’re lucky I didn’t accidentally kick you.” 

“Oh, please. You’d never,” you teased, plopping down beside him. “You’re too soft for that.” 

“Soft?” he repeated, looking offended. “I’ll show you soft—” He lunged forward, grabbing a pillow and whacking you with it. 

“Hey!” you protested, laughing as you tried to fend him off. “Violence isn’t the answer, Jake!” 

“It is when you’re the problem,” he shot back, though he was laughing now too. 

You managed to grab the pillow from him, holding it over your head in victory. “Admit it, though. You secretly liked it.” 

Jake scoffed, crossing his arms. “In what world would I like being slapped in the ass?” 

“This one,” you said confidently, smirking at him. “Don’t lie, Jake. I saw the way you blushed.” 

He groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You’re so goddamn annoying. Why do I even put up with you?” 

“Because you love me,” you replied with a cheeky grin, poking his side. “Admit it.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the small smile on his face told you everything you needed to know. 

PARK SUNGHOON

Sunghoon was standing in front of the mirror, fixing his hair for the millionth time. He was so focused on his reflection that he didn’t notice you sneaking up behind him. Without warning, you slapped his ass, the loud smack echoing in the room. 

“What the fuck?” Sunghoon exclaimed, spinning around to glare at you. His cheeks flushed pink as he stared at you in disbelief. “Did you just—” 

“I sure did,” you said, grinning up at him. “Nice reaction time, by the way.” 

Sunghoon scowled, crossing his arms. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. “I just thought you needed a little... appreciation.” 

“Appreciation for what?” he demanded, narrowing his eyes. 

“For being so pretty,” you said with a smirk. “You’re welcome.” 

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“And you’re blushing,” you shot back, pointing at his red cheeks. 

“I am not,” he said quickly, turning back to the mirror. “You’re just imagining things.” 

“Sure, Hoon,” you teased, stepping closer to poke his side. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

He swatted your hand away, muttering something under his breath. “You’re so annoying.” 

“But you love me,” you said, grinning. 

“Debatable,” he replied, though the small smile tugging at his lips said otherwise. 

KIM SUNOO

Sunoo was lying on his bed, scrolling through his phone. You walked by, smirking as you saw the perfect opportunity. Without hesitation, you slapped his ass, earning a loud yelp from him. 

“Yah! What the hell?” Sunoo exclaimed, sitting up to glare at you. His cheeks were already turning red. 

“Sorry,” you said, not sounding sorry at all. “Couldn’t resist.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, pointing accusingly. “You’re so dead.” 

“Oh, come on,” you teased, holding your hands up in mock surrender. “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

“Not that big of a deal?” he repeated, his voice rising an octave. “You just smacked my ass!” 

“And it was a good one,” you said with a grin. “Props to you, Sunoo.” 

He groaned, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at you. “You’re the worst.” 

“And yet, here we are,” you said, dodging the pillow. “Admit it, though. You secretly liked it.” 

“In your dreams,” he shot back, though the blush on his cheeks gave him away. 

YANG JUNGWON

Jungwon was tidying up the living room, humming to himself as he carefully folded a blanket. You watched him for a moment, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. The moment he turned slightly, you took your chance—your hand shot out, landing a loud smack on his ass. 

Jungwon yelped, nearly tripping over his own feet as he whipped around to glare at you. "What the hell was that?!" 

You shrugged, barely holding back laughter. "A well-executed ass slap, obviously." 

His jaw dropped as he stared at you in disbelief. "You—you can't just do that! What is wrong with you?" 

"Plenty of things," you admitted with a smirk. "But that’s not the point here." 

Jungwon groaned, covering his face with both hands for a second before pointing an accusing finger at you. "You’re the walking embodiment of ‘this is why we can’t have nice things’. Do you even think before you act?" 

"Nope," you answered proudly. "It’s called living in the moment, Wonie. You should try it." 

"Living in the moment doesn't mean violating my personal space!" he exclaimed, his ears burning bright red. "I should report you for this." 

"Report me?" you laughed. "To who? Enhypen HR? Oh wait, you’re the leader. What are you going to do, write me a sternly worded memo." 

"You know what, go ahead, report me," you taunted, smirking. "I'm dying to see who you think handles that kind of thing around here."

Jungwon huffed, crossing his arms. "I swear, you get away with way too much." 

You stepped closer, tilting your head. "You’re still blushing, by the way." 

His hands shot up to his cheeks immediately. "I AM NOT!" 

"Oh, you totally are," you teased. "Just admit you liked it, Wonie. I promise I won’t tell." 

Jungwon groaned loudly, dramatically throwing himself onto the couch. "I can’t deal with you. I actually can’t." 

You sat beside him, nudging his shoulder. "You love dealing with me." 

"No, I tolerate you," he muttered, shooting you a side-eye. "And barely." 

You grinned. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that." 

NISHIMURA RIKI

Ni-Ki was in the middle of dancing, testing out a new choreography in the practice room mirror. He was completely lost in the rhythm, his body moving fluidly, his focus locked on the routine. 

Which made it the perfect moment. 

You crept up behind him, watching as he executed a clean spin, and right as he landed—you swung. Your hand connected with his ass with a loud SMACK. 

Ni-Ki let out a scandalized squawk as he stumbled forward, nearly face-planting into the mirror. He caught himself just in time, spinning around to glare at you with wide eyes. "WHAT THE FUCK?!" 

You doubled over in laughter, clutching your stomach as you watched his reaction. "Oh my God, your face! I should’ve recorded that." 

"Your such a gremlin," Ni-Ki gritted out, running a hand down his face. "What is wrong with you?!" 

"Nothing," you wheezed between giggles. "Your ass was just asking for it." 

Ni-Ki groaned dramatically. "MY ASS WAS MINDING ITS OWN DAMN BUSINESS!" 

"It was too minding its own business," you teased. "I had to do something about it." 

He pointed at you accusingly. "You are literally out of control." 

"And yet, you keep me around," you shot back, smirking. "Which means you must like the chaos." 

Ni-Ki rolled his eyes, turning back to the mirror. "I don’t even know why I bother with you." 

You stepped up beside him, resting your chin on his shoulder. "Because you’d be bored without me." 

He sighed, shaking his head. "You are so lucky I tolerate your bullshit." 

"Love, Ni-Ki," you corrected with a grin. "You love my bullshit." 

He snorted, finally cracking a reluctant smile. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

[inseobts]

Fool

law x reader

you meet your former captain again after months, after having walked away from that unrequited feeling, not knowing that, in reality, he loved you too (part 1 - if only she knew but you can read and enjoy this even without reading the other one)

inspired by the song: fool by winner

a/n: uhm idk if this sucks but I did it based on my fav group's music so be nice eheh (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡ also I firstly made it about zoro but then I got reminded of an old request (if only she knew) so I turned it into a sequel for law.

words count: 3.5k

tags: angst, argument, regrets from law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The crowded port buzzes with life, laughter, and the scent of grilled seafood wafting through the air. You weren’t expecting to run into them, into him. But fate, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor.

The Heart Pirates.

You spot them before they see you, their familiar ship docked near the edge of the harbor. For a second, you consider turning around, walking away before anyone notices. But then a loud, familiar voice cuts through the air.

"Hey—! No way! It's you!" Penguin’s excited shout freezes you in place, and in an instant, all eyes are on you. The crew’s expressions shift from shock to joy, and before you know it, you’re being pulled into warm greetings, pats on the back, and teasing complaints about how long it’s been.

But one pair of eyes lingers on you longer than the rest. Law stands at the back, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place. But there’s something there, a flicker of something in his golden gaze that you can’t quite place.

The tension is broken when Shachi grins "You gotta eat with us today! Just like old times. No excuses."

You hesitate, but your stomach betrays you, growling at the thought of a warm meal. And the truth is… you missed them. More than you’d like to admit.

"Fine," you sigh, rolling your eyes "But you’re paying."

The crew erupts in cheers, dragging you toward their ship, the warmth of old friendships making it impossible to say no.

Dinner is chaotic, loud, and full of laughter. The crew fills the space with stories of their latest misadventures, and for a while, it feels like nothing has changed. But beneath it all, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, the space between you and him.

As the plates pile up and the drinks flow, the crew starts throwing casual questions your way.

“So, how have you been?” Bepo asks, his voice gentle, though his eyes are searching.

Shachi leans in with a knowing smirk “Yeah, how’s life been treating you?”

Their words are light, playful even, but you can hear the unspoken question beneath them. They all know. They knew before you left. They had seen the way you looked at your captain, the feelings you tried so hard to hide.

And they had seen the way he looked at you leaving, even if he never admitted it.

The room may be full of laughter, but there’s an undercurrent of tension, one that only grows when Law remains silent, nursing his drink and watching you from across the table.

Penguin nudges your arm, his grin teasing but his eyes soft “Bet you haven’t found anyone to boss you around like a certain captain of ours.”

You roll your eyes, playing along “Like I’d go looking for that.”

The table erupts in laughter, but there’s a knowing look exchanged between them all. They’re testing the waters, trying to see if your heart still beats for him, but careful not to push too far. And as much as you try to brush off their words, you know the answer. It never stopped.

From the other side of the table, Law exhales sharply, setting down his drink with just a little too much force.

The crew exchanges glances. They’ve been waiting for this. They had hoped that bringing you back, even if just for one night, would finally push the two of you to talk. But as they watch the tension build, they realize they can’t force this. Whatever needs to happen between you and Law can only happen if you’re alone.

Then something happens, maybe an accident, a spilled drink, or just the natural (or so they act like) shifting of the group, but suddenly, you and Law are alone. The noise of the crew fades into the background, leaving only the two of you there.

The setting sun paints the sky in shades of gold and pink as you stand outside the tavern, staring out at the ocean. The breeze tugs at your hair, but you don’t feel it. Your thoughts are elsewhere, tangled in the mess that the crew just made to leave you two alone.

And then Law.

He’s the only thing on your mind right now. He’s the reason your heart feels like it’s being torn in two for months, or even years at this point. You missed him like hell, but the words he said to you, before you left, will never leave your mind…

“Get lost from my sight.”

They echo in your ears, stinging with every memory of just one the moments he made you feel unwanted. He has always been distant, and you always tried to reach out. You tried so hard. But that night, everything in you snapped. You got tired of his anger, his harsh words, they cut deeper than anything you expected.

You turn away, unable to face him again. The tears threaten to spill at the memories, but you fight them back. His words hurt, but it’s more than that. It’s the feeling that something between you is broken now, something that can’t easily be fixed.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stands there, close but not close enough. You can feel the space between you, thick with unspoken words and regret. Your back remains turned to him, but you don’t have to look to know he’s still standing there, his presence heavy in the air.

Finally, his voice breaks through the silence. It’s softer than you ever remembered, because now there’s something else... regret. You can hear it, and it twists something in your chest.

“Get lost from my sight.”

You don’t turn around. His words still feel like a slap in the face, even though the venom has faded from them. Law’s not speaking to you now. He’s speaking the truth of what he felt in the moment, the words he had let slip too many times in his anger.

“Those cruel words… I spat out without hesitation.” His voice trembles, a small crack breaking through his usual composure “Anyone can see… I was a fool.”

Your heart clenches at his words, but you don’t say anything. What’s there to say? He’s the one who pushed you away, and now, here he is, broken, admitting to it.

You take a deep breath, your throat tight, as you finally turn to face him. His gaze is on the floor, his fists clenched, but you can see the regret in his eyes. It’s raw. It’s real.

“Even if I’m sorry now, nothing changes. I know.” His voice is quieter now, the weight of what he’s said settling between you both “Nothing changes...” he repeats, more to himself than to you, as if trying to accept it.

Law steps closer, and you don’t move. You’re not sure if you want him to come closer. He’s the one who pushed you away, and yet, here he is, still reaching for you in his own way. His voice breaks the silence again.

“It’s okay to swear at me, even that’s not good enough. I just wanna hear your voice. I just wanna hear you talk to me...” His words feel fragile, like he’s hanging on by a thread, and you can feel his desperation in every syllable.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What is there to say? What can you say after everything that’s happened?

“Fool, stupid. I now know it’s all my fault.” His voice cracks as he says it, the self-loathing dripping through every word “Dummy, idiot. I now know it’s all my fault.” He shakes his head, the weight of his mistakes crushing him “I pushed you away.”

You stand still, watching him, not knowing what to do. He’s broken, you can see that, but can you forgive him so easily? He hurt you so badly that part of you doesn’t know if you’re ready to let him back in.

Law takes another step toward you, this time closer than before, and you instinctively take a small step back. He notices but doesn’t say anything. He seems unsure of everything now.

“I said I was selfish. Only knew myself. I think I’m crazy.” His voice is barely above a whisper, the regret so deep it almost hurts to hear “It’s me who pushed you away.”

The words hit you like a punch. You know he’s not lying. He has been selfish. He’s pushed you away. But hearing him admit it… you want to believe that it’s enough, that his regret is real.

But still, you stay quiet, unsure of how to process the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He steps even closer now, his eyes searching yours, like he’s begging you to say something, anything.

“I was a fool” His voice falters, and his gaze drops to the ground as he shakes his head “Even if I regret it now, nothing changes, and I know it.”

There it is again, the finality in his voice. He knows the damage is done. He knows you might never look at him the same way again. And that hurts. More than anything.

You feel your heart aching, but you don’t know what to do with it. His regret is clear, but is it enough? Is it enough to fix what he’s broken?

Law reaches out, but stops just short of touching you. His hand hovers in the air for a moment, and then he lets it fall, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t care if it’s just a short moment. I'm glad I could see you once more… For the last time.”

His voice cracks, and you can feel the desperation in him. He wants something from you, but what? Forgiveness? Understanding?

“You used to dazzle, and now you’re far away. Going through the scattered memories, I long for you every day.” His words are soft now, almost pleading.

You take a shaky breath. His voice, his confession, it all makes you ache, but you still don’t know what to say. You want to reach out, to tell him that it’s okay, that you forgive him. But you’re not sure if you can just let it go that easily. The hurt is still there.

“Yes, I know I’m late. But please... I wish you could just come back as if nothing happened.” He speaks the words as if he’s begging the universe itself to let you come back to him. But you don’t know if you can.

You turn away, not because you want to, but because you don’t know how to respond. His words, his pain, they echo in your mind, but you’re not ready. Not yet.

The silence between you both is deafening. Law stands just a few feet away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face still full of regret and confusion. He doesn’t know what else to say. You can see it in his eyes he’s waiting for something, anything from you. His gaze flickers over your face, searching for a sign that you’ll let him in again.

But you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re not sure if you can.

The world around you feels distant, like everything is happening in a dream, and you’re not sure if you want to wake up.

Law shifts his weight, taking another small step forward. You hear him inhale deeply, the weight of his next words heavy in the air.

“I know I’m late,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but it’s enough to cut through the silence “I know I messed up, and it’s my fault. I was selfish. I only thought about myself. And now… now look at what I’ve done.”

His words are raw, stripped of all his usual bravado. This is the Law you’ve never seen before, vulnerable, lost, and so deeply ashamed.

You feel your chest tighten as his words settle into your bones. The storm inside you rages on. You’re angry. You’re hurt. But you’re also confused. You want to hate him. You want to shout, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But every time you look at him, every time you hear the sincerity in his voice, it feels like something in you starts to crumble.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean the things I said. I… I was stupid. I didn’t think.” his voice cracks, and you can hear the frustration in his tone “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve me being so… so careless.”

You stay silent. You can feel the anger rising in your chest, the hurt threatening to swallow you whole, but you can’t say it. Not yet. Not when he’s standing there, looking so torn apart.

Law takes another step closer, his voice trembling with the weight of his words.

“I know I was an idiot. A complete fool. I pushed you away, and now I’m the one who’s paying the price” He’s so close now you can almost feel the heat of his body, but the space between you both feels like a vast ocean. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the depth of his regret, the raw pain that he’s trying to hide “But I can’t stand this. I can’t stand being without you. I need to hear your voice. Please… just give me one more chance.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with all the force of the emotions you’ve been trying to bury. The storm inside you threatens to explode, and for a moment, you can’t hold it back anymore.

You turn to face him fully, your heart hammering in your chest. His gaze never wavers from yours, his expression pleading, desperate.

“Fool, stupid,” you hear him mutter again, almost to himself “I now know it’s all my fault.” He’s repeating it like some sort of mantra, the guilt weighing him down with every word.

You want to scream at him. You want to throw your anger in his face and tell him how much he’s hurt you, how much you’ve been suffering because of him. But instead, your voice cracks as you finally speak.

“Law…” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to get his attention. His eyes lock onto yours, searching, hoping.

“I… I don’t know if I can just forgive you like that,” you say, your voice trembling “You hurt me. You pushed me away without thinking about how I felt. I gave you what you wanted before leaving for good. I gave you your space. All while I was hurting, thinking you hated me. And now you expect me to just forget it?”

Law flinches, the weight of your words hitting him harder than anything else. His face falls, guilt flashing across his features.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it,” he says quietly, almost to himself “I just… I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I know it’s too late, but I needed to say it. I needed you to know that I was wrong. I’ve always been so focused on myself, on the crew, on work… but you were right there beside me, trying to help me and all I did was pushing you away because of my own pride.”

The sincerity in his words cuts through the tension like a knife. You can see it in his eyes now, the man you’ve known for so long, the captain who’s always carried himself with such confidence, now breaking down in front of you. He’s not just asking for your forgiveness. He’s asking for a chance.

You swallow hard, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You’re torn. Part of you wants to forgive him, to reach out and pull him into your arms and tell him it’s okay, that everything will be fine. But another part of you feels like that would be too easy. Too quick.

Law’s head drops, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His hands fidget at his sides, unable to find comfort in anything. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and it’s clear that he doesn’t know how to fix what’s broken.

“Please,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible “Just… just let me make it right.”

You stand there, torn between the feelings of anger, sadness, and the remnants of the love you’ve always had for him. His words are genuine, but is it enough? You don’t know. You don’t know if anything will be enough to undo the hurt he caused.

But as you look at him, really look at him, you see the pain in his eyes, and you feel the wall inside your heart start to crack.

You can’t undo the past. And maybe it’s too soon to forgive him fully. But you can’t let him keep carrying this weight by himself either.

You take a deep breath, your heart still racing in your chest.

“I don’t know, Law,” you say quietly “I’m not just going to pretend nothing happen.”

Law nods slowly, his expression a mix of regret and relief. He doesn’t speak, but you can see the understanding in his eyes. This is far from over. The road to healing, to forgiveness, will be long and difficult. But for now, this is a start.

“I know,” he whispers, stepping back, giving you space “I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”

You nod at him, because maybe that’s enough for now.

The silence between you and Law is thick, heavy with everything that has been said and everything that hasn’t. His eyes are still on you, searching, waiting, but you don’t know if you’re ready to give him a proper answer. Not yet. The emotions swirling inside you are too much, too tangled to sort through in just one moment.

Then, just as you open your mouth to say something the sound of hurried footsteps echoes from the shadows. Before either of you can react, the crew bursts into the room, their faces alight with mischief and unrestrained grins.

“Ahh, finally!” Penguin announces, throwing his arms up dramatically “Took you two long enough.”

Your stomach drops “Wait, what—”

Bepo nods sagely “We were listening the whole time... sorry.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you glance at Law, who pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply “Of course you were...” His voice is flat, but you can hear the underlying exasperation.

Shachi waves a hand dismissively “C’mon, Captain, don’t act like you’re mad. We did you a favor.”

“I didn’t ask for a favor” Law grumbles, crossing his arms.

The crew doesn’t care. Instead, they exchange knowing looks before turning their attention to you.

“So,” Ikkaku starts, leaning in with an eager expression, “does this mean you’re back?”

Your breath catches in your throat “I—”

“I mean, you missed us, right?” Shachi adds, wiggling his eyebrows “And you obviously missed our dear Captain here.”

You shoot him a glare, but the heat creeping up your face betrays you. Law, for his part, looks about two seconds away from kicking them all out, but the crew is relentless.

“Look,” Penguin says, his grin softening into something more genuine, “we just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

Bepo nods again “You belong with us. With him.”

Your heart twists at their words, and you glance at Law, who’s watching you carefully. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something there, hope, uncertainty, a silent question only you can answer.

The room feels impossibly small with all eyes on you, but deep down, you already know what you want. You’ve known all along. This is your family. And Law… Law is the person who has always held your heart, no matter how much pain the journey brought you.

Taking a deep breath, you meet Law’s gaze and finally speak “If you’ll have me… I’d like to stay.”

For the first time that night, Law’s lips twitch into the ghost of a smile “Idiot,” he mutters, but his voice is softer now, tinged with relief “You never had to ask.”

The crew erupts into cheers, celebrating your return like it’s the greatest victory of all. Shachi and Penguin slap Law on the back, while Bepo all but tackles you into a hug. The warmth of their acceptance, their excitement, is overwhelming, but it’s exactly what you needed.

Law doesn’t say anything else, the crew slaps his back more and he loses his balance and is now close enough that your shoulders brush.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. A faint blush dusts both your cheeks as you get lost in the quiet intensity of his gaze, drawn into each other as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist.

The noise in the room gradually dies down as the crew starts noticing, nudging and elbowing each other with smirks and wide grins. One by one, they fall silent, watching as you and Law remain caught in each other’s stare, completely oblivious to everything around you.

Then, just as the moment stretches unbearably long, Shachi clears his throat loudly “Oi, oi, are you two gonna keep making heart eyes at each other or what?”

The spell shatters instantly. You and Law both snap back to reality, faces burning, while the crew bursts into laughter and cheers once more.

Despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, you can’t stop the small, genuine smile that tugs at your lips. Because in this moment, with Law beside you and your family around you, everything feels right.

You’re home.

[rockspider556]

Batfam Headcanon #1

So Bruce Wayne gets injured—badly enough that he can’t just limp back to the Batcave with Alfred threatening to sedate him whilst yelling about self-care. No, this time the doctors insist he stay at the hospital. Superman and Wonder Woman, thinking they’re his only friends, decide to visit.

When they ask for Bruce’s room number at front desk, the nurse just looks at them and says, “there’s more of you?!”

They exchange deeply confused but mildly concerned glances before heading to the room. Clark, because he’s Clark, peeks inside with his X-ray vision and immediately stops in his tracks.

Diana frowns. “What’s wrong?”

Clark whispers, “There’s, uh… eight people in there.”

Diana’s eyebrows knit together. “Eight? More than Alfred?”

Clark just gestures for her to look, so they walk in—only to be greeted by absolute anarchy.

Bruce is in bed, looking murderously annoyed but utterly incapable of escaping, because there’s a riot happening around him.

Dick is perched on the bed’s edge, grinning as he tries to convince Bruce to eat his horrifically over-baked “Get Well Soon” cookies. (“C’mon, B, they’ve got sentimental value! You can’t taste failure; you can only feel love.”)

Tim and Damian are engaged full-blown war over Uno rules, with Bruce’s lap being used as their playing surface. Damian is glaring daggers while Tim smugly draws a card. (“‘Draw Four’ is illegal there, you demon.” “You’re just bitter because you’re losing, Drake!”)

Jason is standing at the foot of his bed, loudly reading Bruce’s medical chart like it’s a stand-up routine. (“Oh, wow, Bruce. Says here you’re allergic to rest. Oh, and look—‘Patient struggles with a superiority complex and a martyr complex, both incurable.’ Fascinating”)

Steph is perched on the edge of Bruce’s bed, enthusiastically eating his hospital pudding while loudly complaining about how terrible it is. (“Honestly, B, are you sure you can’t get discharged? This food is a human rights violation.”)

Barbara is sitting at the head of Bruce’s bed, her tablet perched on her lap. She’s rewired the hospital TV so it’s running security footage from the Watchtower.

Cass is perched on the arm of Barbara’s chair, alternating between watching the Uno chaos and holding up handmade cards she’s brought for Bruce. Each one has a single-word message, like REST or STOP DYING, in bold marker and glitter. Every time Bruce sighs too loudly, she silently holds up another one that says, DRINK WATER.

Duke is sitting next to Bruce, smiling mildly, scrolling through his phone. He’s the only one looking like he’s got some semblance of peace in his life.

Alfred is standing against the wall, arms folded behind his back, the epitome of British disapproval. He’s wearing his usual long-suffering yet fond expression.

Clark and Diana stand in the doorway, completely frozen.

Diana finally breaks the silence. “He… has children?”

“No,” Clark says slowly, taking in the chaotic scene. “He has a cult.”

In the middle of all this, Bruce catches their stunned expressions and deadpans, “Don’t. Ask.”

Dick waves at them cheerfully. “Oh, hey! You must be Bruce’s work friends!”

Clark and Diana end up staying, more out of morbid curiosity than anything else. By the time they leave, Diana is still trying to understand how Bruce hides an entire army of chaos gremlins under the radar, while Clark is absolutely delighted at the opertunity to mock Mr “I work alone”

Because of course the Dark Knight is actually just an overworked single dad with a very noisy household.

[rik0shii]

gdragon with a bubbly!reader who's always so entertaining and energetic. reader is a solo artist from YG company along with bigbang and 2NE1. when the company held a YG family concert, we could see gdragon basically just playing around with reader and fans take notice of this, some even makes an edit of them from the concert.

YG’S WEIRDOS

At the YG Family Concert, G-Dragon couldn’t stop teasing you, from playful banter to dragging you into an unexpected dance break. Fans quickly took notice, and by the next day, viral clips had everyone convinced—he definitely had a soft spot for you.

hiii tysm for requesting❤️❤️❤️ i hope you like this!reposts and comments are appreciated!

The YG Family Concert was always a highlight of the year, bringing together all the artists in one massive, unforgettable event. As expected, you were your usual high-energy, chaotic self, always moving, always hyping up the crowd, and making sure everyone was having fun.

It didn’t take long for fans to notice that G-Dragon seemed especially entertained by you.

From the very beginning, he gravitated toward you, whether it was standing beside you during introductions or laughing at your antics from across the stage. It wasn’t unusual for Jiyong to be playful, but tonight, it felt like he had made it his personal mission to mess with you.

When it was your turn to introduce yourself, you stepped forward with an exaggerated bow, extending your arms dramatically. “Good evening, everyone! I am Y/N, the greatest performer to ever exist—”

Jiyong let out a loud laugh beside you, shaking his head as he took the mic. “I didn’t realize we were doing theatrical introductions tonight.”

Without missing a beat, you turned to him. “Oh? You wanna do one too? Go ahead, make it dramatic.”

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked and gave an overly elegant bow. “G-Dragon. Fashion icon. Genius. Your favorite artist’s favorite artist.”

You clapped, pretending to wipe away a tear. “Beautiful. That was inspiring.”

The playful exchange earned laughter from the crowd, and it was only the beginning.

Later in the night, during BIGBANG’s performance, you were standing at the side of the stage, dancing along like a proper hype person. Jiyong caught sight of you from the middle of the stage, and before you could react, he ran over and grabbed your wrist, pulling you forward.

“Y/N, dance break!” he announced into his mic, giving you absolutely no time to prepare.

The beat dropped, and instinct took over. You committed fully, breaking into the most absurd dance moves imaginable—over-the-top body waves, uncoordinated moonwalks, and random high kicks that made no sense while 2NE1’s CL and Daesung cheered you on.The audience erupted with laughter, and Jiyong was laughing so hard he nearly missed his next line.

When the music finally moved on, you doubled over, catching your breath. He nudged your shoulder, grinning. “I didn’t think you’d actually go for it.”

You crossed your arms and raised your eyebrow dramatically. “Embarrassing myself is my superpower.”

By the next morning, the internet was flooded with clips of your interactions.

One video of Jiyong laughing at your dance break had already hit over two million views. Another edit compiled every moment the two of you shared on stage—him nudging you, laughing at your antics, and literally dragging you into the spotlight. The title? “GD can’t hide his soft spot for Y/N.”

Even your fellow YG artists had started teasing.

“Jiyong, why do you always mess with Y/N?” Taeyang asked during an interview the next day.

Jiyong shrugged, barely holding back a smile. “They’re just… hard to ignore.”

Your phone buzzed not long after.

Jiyong: We’re going viral, troublemaker.

You: I take full responsibility. You’re welcome.

Jiyong: You’re gonna pay for this.

You: Oh? What are you gonna do? Challenge me to another dance battle?

Jiyong: …Don’t tempt me.

If this concert was anything to go by, the next one was going to be even more chaotic.

[luna-azzurra]

Romance List Prompts

Forced Proximity “Oops, There’s Only One Bed” & Other Nightmares (aka: trapped together, forced to talk, and now I’m noticing your eyelashes??)

✧ They hate each other. Of course they do. But now they’re snowed in at the same remote cabin. One bed. No signal. Nowhere to run from each other or their feelings. ✧ They barely know each other, just enough to be annoyed in passing. Then they get stuck between floors, in the dark, and suddenly all the things they don’t say become impossible to ignore. ✧ They agree to a long-haul drive for mutual convenience. Cue broken-down car, sketchy motel, and sharing snacks like it’s an act of war. By night two, they’re sleeping back-to-back and trying not to notice how quiet it gets when the other person isn’t talking. ✧ They’re both responsible for watching someone else's pet/kid/home. They bicker like divorced parents. They bond over chaos. And somewhere between late-night takeout and arguing over dishes, they accidentally become something like a couple.

Forbidden Romance “We Shouldn’t, But God We Want To” (aka: slow burn with a side of inner turmoil)

✧ They were raised to hate each other. But then they meet, outside the context, outside the war, and start to realize they’re not what they were taught. And it wrecks them both. ✧ They’re assigned to protect someone who is completely off limits. Flirting is forbidden. Feelings are dangerous. And yet? Every glance feels like a confession they can’t afford to say out loud. ✧ Teacher/Instructor x Student, but make it ethical and age-appropriate. It’s a short-term class, a writing retreat, a combat training course. The power dynamic is there, but so is the connection. They try to keep it professional. They fail. Beautifully. ✧ Best Friend’s Sibling... They’re off limits. Point blank. But the tension? The tension is screaming. Especially when the best friend keeps leaving them alone together, completely unaware.

 Grumpy x Sunshine “Why Are You Like This?” (aka: emotionally constipated x aggressively full of feelings)

✧ Roommates from Opposite Vibes... One’s all color-coded calendars and 7AM smoothies. The other hasn’t done laundry in three weeks and growls before coffee. They clash. But one rainy day, the sunshine one leaves soup on the grump’s desk with a dumb little smiley note. It breaks them. ✧ Coffee Shop Owner x Frequent Customer... Grump runs the quiet, broody café. Sunshine comes in every morning with messy hair and too much enthusiasm. The barista rolls their eyes, but they always remember their order. Always. ✧ Hired for the Same Job. Grump is practical. Sunshine is chaotic. They’re forced to collaborate. The tension is delicious. Especially when the sunshine one starts to get under the grump’s skin and into their heart. ✧ They're on a team. The world is ending. The sunshine one makes jokes to stay sane. The grump one acts like they don’t care, until the sunshine one gets hurt. Then suddenly they’re soft, scared, and furious about it.

 Extra Angst & Emotional Damage For the Writers Who Like to Hurt (and Heal)

✧ “You Remembered?” They thought the other didn’t care. They’re used to being forgotten. But then, in the quiet, the other person says something, something small, something specific, and it hits like a train. ✧ “I Would’ve Picked You Every Time” They lost each other once. Circumstances. Timing. Fear. Years later, they meet again. And this time? This time the truth comes out. And it’s raw, and ugly, and healing. ✧ “Don’t Look at Me Like That” They’re breaking. Mid-fight. Mid-confession. One of them cracks and says the thing they swore they wouldn’t say. The other just looks at them soft, wide-eyed and it’s too much. ✧ “I Never Stopped Loving You” Classic. Heart-shattering. Should only be used when you want your readers to cry at 2AM while whispering “why did you do this to me”.

[thatnonameuser]

A Wonderland Of Yanderes

World Building is here Part 2

It all started with that class.

The final class for the first week of the first semester. After all the chaos of coming to Twisted Wonderland, of being thrown into a world you don’t understand, a quiet weekend to start finding a way back is something you’ve been awaiting.

The classes here were chaotic but fun, and even interesting as a human from a world without any magic. 

Making potions that could do so many different things in Alchemy. Speaking with animals or a cat that can't talk like Grim in Animal Languages. Riding broomsticks in Phys Ed. Even the boring classes like Magical History, learning of this world full of wonder and mystery, and Arithmancy, math was boring, but it was fun to learn that it’s the same in this world. 

But out of all the classes this was the weirdest one of all. 

It was called The Art of Ensnaring Hearts. About ‘darling control and protection’. It’s a weird sounding class, but even weirder, it’s a mandatory subject for all first years, which seems weird for what sounds like an elective. Still it’s just odd, not anything too weird.

The name is nothing that you’ve seen in any fantasy book or tv show in your world. But by now, you knew weird being dropped head first into an unknown world. By now anything new and weird should have been expected, understood, brushed aside as something to accept and move on.

So here you were sitting between Ace and Deuce in the lecture, Grim fast asleep on your lap, waiting for class you knew nothing about.

“I can’t believe they’re making us take this class.” Ace complains.

“Stop complaining Ace. It’s a really important class!” Deuce objects.

Ace whined his butt off the whole way here, complaining about how stupid it was that they had to attend it. Deuce on the other hand, was incredibly enthusiastic and you are completely in the dark for what this class is even about.

Ace shrugs, “Still, my folks and brother taught me all about this stuff. It’s a waste of time.”

“Not everyone has parents or siblings who can teach them about darlings, Ace.”

“Nothing personal Juice, but this class is going to be as boring as Magical History.”

“Well, if you know so much, what exactly is this class about?” You joke and they both look at you like you’ve grown a second head. "What?" you say, now uneasy.

 “You don’t know?” Ace asks.

“What part about ‘I’m from another world’ keeps slipping your minds?” Your attempt at a joke falls flat, as they look at you in incredulity.

Deuce practically reels back in surprise, “N-No it’s just that it's so normal here. You don’t know what darlings are?”

You shake your head, “No, not really.”

A crack of a whip onto the blackboard calls your attention to Professor Crewel, "Alright pups, I have to do this every year so let's get this out of the way now. This class will provide you with any and every method, skill and technique to find, capture and control your future darlings, including evading the law in your respective homelands." Now, you're confused, why exactly is a school teaching students how to break the law?

"As you know Sage Island makes special accommodations for NRC and RSA students, all acts that may be forbidden in any of your hometowns, with the exception of Darling murder, will be pardoned and forgiven. In the case of a family investigation, the school will stage an accident so please do not butcher them beyond repair." No words or sounds slip from your lips, with you stunned silent in pure horror.

What pools in your stomach is hot dread mixed with cold fear. Just what exactly is this world? Murder can be excused here? It can be covered up, with only a slap on the wrist. You need some explanations and you need them now.

A student raises a hand, "Professor?"

"Yes, pup?"

"Why are there no darlings enrolled in Night Raven?"

"One too many murders on campus. A few too many mutts ran around unneutered and decided to draw blood." You smother your gasp a few seconds too late, as more than a third of the room turn to you, confused.

"Something wrong, pup?" Crewel raises an eyebrow at you. His eyes drill into your soul, inspecting, calculating.

"N-Nothing! I'm fine. Perfectly fine." Crewel doesn't push you on the subject, returning to his lecture.

You lean back in your seat, and the cold sweat on your body makes you shiver. Right now, you'll bite your tongue and hold back your horror.

You need to see Crowley, as soon as possible.

[eliaah]

you called them “your husband”

characters: yami sukehiro, fuegoleon vermillion, nozel silva, william vangeance, & jack.

tags: fluff , multi characters x fem reader

a/n: i forgot to add william in my last post so here's my apology for him shjsksksks, i'm so sorry that i forgot him 😭

🍁 YAMI SUKEHIRO

The tavern is lively tonight, filled with the usual rowdy crowd. After a long mission, there’s nothing better than unwinding with a drink in hand, especially with Yami by my side. We’re sitting at the bar, close enough that our shoulders brush together every time one of us moves. It’s a small comfort, a reminder that he’s here, and that I’m safe.

The Black Bulls are scattered around the tavern, celebrating in their usual chaotic fashion. Magna and Asta are arm-wrestling in the corner, while Finral is attempting to flirt with a group of local girls, much to Charmy’s amusement as she devours her feast. The laughter and chatter create a warm, buzzing atmosphere that feels like home.

Yami leaned in closer to me, his deep voice rumbling softly in my ear. “You did good out there today. Not bad for someone who’s usually stuck doing paperwork.”

I smirked, nudging him with my elbow. “I’m more than just a pretty face, Captain.”

He chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. “Damn right you are.”

The comfortable banter between us had always been there, but tonight felt different. Maybe it was the adrenaline still coursing through our veins, or maybe it was just the warmth of the tavern and the closeness we shared.

As I take a sip of my drink, a group of regulars from the tavern comes over, striking up a conversation. They’ve clearly had a few too many, but their curiosity gets the better of them. One of them, a burly man with a grin that shows off a missing tooth, looks between Yami and me.

“So, what’s the deal with you two?” he asks, his voice slurred.

I feel a mischievous smile tug at my lips as I lean back in my chair, deciding to have a little fun. “Oh, he's my husband.” The words come out before I can fully think them through, but once they’re out there, I don’t regret them. There’s a split second where everything feels like it’s frozen in time—like the whole tavern is holding its breath.

Yami, who had been in the middle of taking a drink, nearly chokes. He looks at me with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of shock and amusement. The rest of the group looks between us, unsure if they should laugh or back away slowly.

“Husband, huh?” Yami finally says, setting his drink down and wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s trying to play it cool, but I can see the redness creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.

I give him a cheeky grin, tilting my head slightly. “Yeah, you got a problem with that… husband?”

The word feels strange on my tongue, but it also feels right. And by the way Yami’s looking at me, I can tell it hit him just as hard. He leans closer, his face just inches from mine now, and I can see the playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that one.” he says, his voice low and teasing. But the way his lips quirk up and his ears turn a little red gives him away. He’s as flustered as I am.

“I’d like to see you try.” I shoot back, my heart racing faster than it should. There’s a charged energy between us, something more than just the usual teasing banter.

For a moment, we just stare at each other, the noise of the tavern fading into the background. His face is so close, and all I can think about is how red his cheeks are—how red mine must be too. It’s ridiculous, really. We’ve been together for a while now, and yet, this simple word, “husband,” has both of us acting like nervous teenagers.

Yami’s the first to break the silence, laughing softly as he pulls back slightly, his grin widening. “You’re lucky you’re cute, you know that?”

I roll my eyes, though I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face. “Yeah, yeah. You know you liked it.”

He gives me a look that’s half amused, half something else—something warmer. “Maybe I did.” he admits, his voice quieter now, almost serious.

There’s a moment where neither of us says anything. Then, as if realizing how sappy things are getting, Yami suddenly grabs his mug, downing the rest of his drink in one go. I laugh, the tension breaking as easily as it had formed.

But even as we go back to our usual banter, teasing each other about anything and everything, I can’t help but notice how his hand occasionally brushes against mine or how his gaze lingers just a little too long.

And when the night finally ends and we head back to the base, Yami pulls me close, his arm around my waist, and whispers in my ear, “G’night, wife.”

My heart skips a beat, and I look up at him, seeing the same flustered expression on his face.

“Goodnight, husband.” I whisper back, feeling my face flush once more.

We walk the rest of the way in comfortable silence, both of us trying to hide our smiles in the darkness of the night.

🍁 FUEGOLEON VERMILLION

The grand hall of the Vermillion estate is quiet tonight, a serene stillness settling over the room. The warm, golden glow from the fireplace bathes the space in a comforting light, making the shadows dance along the walls. Fuegoleon and I are nestled together on a plush couch, wrapped in a peaceful silence that feels as intimate as any conversation. His arm is draped over my shoulders, fingers gently playing with a strand of my hair, and I find myself leaning into him, savoring the rare moment of calm.

The day had been long, filled with duties and obligations that left little time for us. But now, with the world outside feeling so far away, it’s just the two of us. This, I think, is my favorite part of the day.

I tilt my head to look up at him, admiring the way the firelight softens his usually stern features. “You know,” I begin softly, a playful tone creeping into my voice, “I could get used to spending my evenings like this.”

Fuegoleon looks down at me, a curious smile playing on his lips. “And what exactly would that be?” he asks, his voice warm.

“With my husband.” I reply, the words slipping out almost too casually, though the impact of them is anything but.

For a moment, everything seems to pause. Fuegoleon’s eyes widen slightly, the word clearly catching him off guard. He blinks, processing what I just said, and I can see the faintest hint of pink rising to his cheeks. Despite his usually composed demeanor, there’s a flicker of something more vulnerable in his expression, something that makes my heart swell.

“Husband.” he repeats, almost as if he’s testing the word on his tongue. His voice is calm, but there’s a softness in it that wasn’t there before. I can tell that he’s flustered, though he’s trying to hide it behind that noble composure.

I smile up at him, feeling a bit giddy at his reaction. “Yes, my husband.” I say, a little more firmly this time, enjoying the way the word makes him react. “That’s what you are, after all.”

Fuegoleon lets out a soft, almost nervous laugh, the sound so unlike his usual self that it makes my heart skip a beat. “Well then,” he begins, his voice gentle but tinged with a warmth that makes my cheeks flush, “if I’m your husband, then that must make you… my wife.”

Now it’s my turn to feel flustered, the weight of his words sinking in. There’s something so intimate, so precious about hearing him call me that, and I can feel my face heating up in response. But it’s not just the words, it’s the way he says them, with such sincerity and affection that it makes me want to melt into the cushions.

He notices my reaction, and a soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes filled with a rare, tender warmth. Fuegoleon shifts slightly, his hand cupping my cheek as he leans in closer. “My wife.” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, but filled with so much emotion that it makes my heart flutter.

I lean into his touch, my own smile widening as I meet his gaze. “I think I like the sound of that,” I murmur, my voice trembling slightly with the overwhelming rush of affection I feel for him.

His thumb brushes gently across my cheek, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to just the two of us. “And I think I like calling you that.” he replies softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Fuegoleon leans down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, the gesture so full of love that it takes my breath away. As he pulls back, his gaze lingers on mine, and I can see the soft blush that still colors his cheeks. It’s a rare sight to see him this flustered, and it makes the moment all the more special.

“Husband.” he says again, the word almost reverent, as if he’s savoring it. “I promise, I’ll always do my best to be worthy of that title.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them back, not wanting to miss a second of this moment. “And I’ll always be here by your side.” I whisper, my voice filled with all the love I feel for him.

He pulls me closer, wrapping me in his arms, and I can feel the steady beat of his heart against my own. As we sit there, the warmth of the fire and the comfort of his embrace surrounding us, I realize that this—right here, with him—is all I’ll ever need.

And as the night drifts on, and the flames in the fireplace begin to die down, Fuegoleon’s hand remains intertwined with mine, a silent promise that whatever the future holds, we’ll face it together, as husband and wife.

🍁 NOZEL SILVA

The grand hall of the Silva estate is elegantly decorated for Nozel’s birthday. Soft lights and floral arrangements create a warm, inviting atmosphere, and the guests mingle with drinks in hand. Despite the festive mood, Nozel stands somewhat aloof, his usual stern demeanor reflecting his indifference towards birthdays. Yet, he appears subtly touched by the effort around him.

As the evening progresses, a series of heartfelt messages are shared in Nozel’s honor. When it’s my turn, I step up with a blend of excitement and affection, feeling both nervous and eager to speak.

Nozel looks at me with his usual calm but curious gaze, and I begin.

“Happy birthday, Nozel. I know you often think birthdays are just another day, but I wanted to take this moment to tell you how much you mean to me. Your strength and dedication are truly admirable, but it’s your kindness and support that touch my heart the most. I’m incredibly grateful for every day we spend together.”

The room is silent as everyone listens, clearly moved by my words. Nozel’s expression softens, a rare, tender smile gracing his lips. The crowd watches with anticipation.

I take a playful breath and add, “And, since it’s your special day,” I continue, “I guess I should mention… I’m glad to be with you, my husband.”

A collective gasp echoes through the hall, followed by curious whispers. “They’re married? When did that happen?” The room buzzes with surprise.

Nozel’s face turns a deep shade of red, his usual calm composure replaced by an endearing fluster. I can’t help but chuckle, enjoying the playful chaos I’ve stirred.

After the applause, Nozel approaches me with a sheepish but affectionate smile. “Did you really have to drop that bombshell in front of everyone?” His voice is gentle, tinged with a mix of embarrassment and fondness.

I look up at him, my cheeks flushed from both the excitement and his reaction. “I just thought it would make your birthday more memorable.” I tease with a wink.

Nozel’s blush deepens, but his eyes soften as he gazes at me. “I appreciate that.” he says, his smile widening. “It’s nice to know you care enough to tease me like this.”

I squeeze his hand playfully. “Even if it’s just teasing, I wanted to remind you that you’re deeply loved and appreciated. I hope it made you smile.”

Nozel’s expression turns even more tender, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You certainly succeeded in making me smile. And... I have to admit, I’m starting to like the sound of ‘husband’.”

As the evening continues, our playful banter becomes a sweet part of the celebration. Nozel, embracing the nickname, uses it with a fond smile. His initial embarrassment fades into a comfortable affection, and he begins to tease me back with a charmingly flustered grin.

When the soft strains of music fill the room, Nozel extends his hand with a gracious smile. “May I have this dance, my wife?”

I nod, feeling my heart flutter with happiness. As we move to the center of the room, Nozel’s hand is gentle but firm, guiding me with care. After a few moments, he leans in and kisses the back of my hand, his eyes full of warmth.

“I’m glad to have you by my side,” he murmurs softly. “And I’m grateful for every moment we share, teasing or otherwise.”

I smile up at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “And I’m glad to be with you, husband.”

As we continue to dance, surrounded by the soft glow of the candles and the cheerful hum of the celebration, the night transforms into a moment of genuine connection and affection, making it a birthday to remember for both of us.

🍁 WILLIAM VANGEANCE

The flower shop is a haven of tranquility, its shelves bursting with colorful blooms and sweet fragrances. William and I are browsing, searching for a special flower to celebrate our relationship. As I sift through the flowers, my excitement builds, knowing this day is about cherishing our bond.

Spotting the elderly shopkeeper, I approach her with a warm smile. “Excuse me, I’m looking for white orchids. They’re for my husband.”

The shopkeeper’s eyes light up with a gentle smile. “White orchids, you say? We have a lovely bouquet in the back. Let me get it for you.”

As she heads to retrieve the flowers, I glance back at William. He’s standing a little ways behind me, his face slightly flushed and a soft smile on his lips. He seems genuinely touched by my casual use of “husband.” and it makes my heart flutter.

William steps closer, his voice tender yet playful. “You really didn’t have to call me that in public. It’s… unexpected.”

I turn to him, my eyes filled with affection. “I wanted to. It feels right to call you that, even if it’s just a playful term. It’s a small way to show how much you mean to me.”

William’s cheeks are tinged with pink, and he looks at me with a mix of surprise and warmth. “Well, I have to admit, it’s quite endearing. It’s not something I expected today, but it certainly made me smile.”

The shopkeeper returns with a bouquet of pristine white orchids, placing it gently on the counter. I take the bouquet, feeling its delicate beauty. As I hold it close, I feel William’s hand brush against mine, and he leans in slightly.

“Thank you for choosing these,” he says, his voice soft. “They’re perfect, just like you.”

I blush, feeling a deep sense of joy. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted to do something special for you. Even if it’s just a small gesture, it means a lot to me.”

William’s smile grows, and he reaches out to gently tuck a white orchid from the bouquet into my hair. His touch is tender, and his eyes are filled with a loving gaze. “This flower suits you perfectly. It’s a symbol of how much you mean to me.”

I feel my heart race at his sweet gesture. “Thank you. It’s beautiful, and it makes this moment even more special.”

As we leave the shop after purchasing, hand in hand with the bouquet between us, William’s gaze is soft and affectionate. “I have to say, I’m not embarrassed by the nickname. It makes me happy. It’s a reminder of how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

I smile, feeling a warm blush on my cheeks. “I’m glad you like it. It’s just a small way of saying how much I love being with you.”

William’s smile deepens as he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “And I love every moment we share. You’ve made today unforgettable.”

Walking together, the bouquet of white orchids between us, the day feels magical. William’s gentle touch and the warmth of our shared moments make everything feel perfect, and I feel deeply connected and cherished.

🍁 JACK

During a lively festival, Jack and Yami are locked in a heated cooking competition. The atmosphere is electric, with people cheering and enjoying the festivities.

Jack and Yami are both in the middle of preparing their dishes at their respective stalls. The crowd is watching intently, and the rivalry between the two is adding to the excitement of the event.

As Jack is focused on his cooking, he suddenly starts arguing with Yami about the best way to cook a dish. Their bickering gets louder and more intimidating. Trying to intervene and bring some calm, I step in.

“Alright, you two, enough already!” I say, trying to be heard over their arguing.

Jack turns to me, looking slightly frazzled. “What’s the matter?”

I roll my eyes playfully. “You’re making a scene, Jack. You need to focus on your cooking and stop fighting.”

Jack’s eyes widen in shock, and he tries to respond, but I cut him off. “And as much as I adore you, you really need to stop being such a loudmouth. I suppose that’s just how my husband acts.”

The entire area goes quiet for a moment, with everyone turning to look at us. Jack freezes, his eyes widening in shock. Yami bursts into laughter, clearly enjoying Jack’s reaction.

“Husband?” Yami calls out, laughing. “You two are married now?”

Jack’s face turns bright red, and he looks around, clearly flustered. “W-what? No, it’s just—”

I give him a teasing smile, enjoying the effect of my words. “Just a slip of the tongue, Jack. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jack tries to regain his composure but is clearly struggling. “Yeah, sure. Just a slip of the tongue,” he mumbles, trying to hide his embarrassment.The crowd starts chuckling softly, enjoying the unexpected turn of events. Yami continues to tease Jack, while Jack tries to focus on the competition, though his flustered state makes it difficult.

As the festival winds down and we finish packing up, Jack approaches me with a slightly nervous but hopeful expression. He pulls out a small, neatly wrapped box from his bag.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant. “I, uh, brought you something.”

I look at the box with curiosity. “What’s this?”

“It’s nothing special,” Jack replies quickly, trying to downplay it. “Just a little something I thought you might like.”

I open the box to find a portion of my favorite food, carefully prepared and packed. My heart warms at the sight.

“This is really sweet of you. Thank you.”

Jack scratches the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yeah, well, you mentioned you liked it a lot, so I figured... you know.”

I smile, reaching out to give him a gentle hug. “It means a lot to me. Thank you.”

Jack smiles back, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Don’t mention it. Just... don’t expect me to call you ‘wife’ all the time or anything.”

I laugh, holding the box close. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As we walk away from the festival, Jack occasionally glances at me, clearly pleased by my reaction. The playful teasing from earlier is replaced with a comfortable, warm feeling between us. The evening ends with us enjoying the food Jack made, sharing stories and laughter under the stars, with the sweet memory of his thoughtful gesture adding a special touch to the night.