#this man always pushes me and uplifts me

[yvmoveon]

.

[neoraso]

bf things with riize

shotaro:

is always your biggest cheerleader. listens to all your concerns and comforts you in the best way he can

loves meeting your friends and having you be close with his

is so excited to get to know you and learn everything he can about you - don't mind him he's just collecting data so he can love you even more ;>

is very much in it for the long haul with you- like he wouldn't be with you if he couldn't really see a future with you. he's pretty young and wouldn't really want to settle down until the future but he's planning on being with you as long as he can-often tells you this

wants to be the most positive, safe and uplifting person in your life. expect a lot of big hugs with back rubs, high fives where he intertwines your fingers ♡

eunseok:

he's pretty masculine but also very nonchalant about it. your man. takes care of things for you wordlessly, tucks you in, carries your bags etc.

pretends to be cocky/annoyed by your clinginess but literally becomes a "where's my hug at?" guy when he walks in the door. like if u don't at least give him a kiss hello he's like wth,,, is everything ok with my baby

will pretty much go along with whatever you want.. like if you want to watch a disney movie he'll be like i'm completely indifferent on what we watch but as long as it makes u happy

peels fruit for you and feeds it to you because he likes watching you eat.

so attentive. makes sure you're taking your medicine/vitamins, that you're sleeping well and making it to all your appointments, fulfilling all your responsibilities.

sungchan:

prefers to stay at your house over everything,, u gave him a key and he abuses the privilege- like you come home from work/school and he's just in ur bed .. sometimes even asleep and ur like ok sure??

idk how to explain ,, he's like that typical older guy like brother's best friend vibes just always playful, flirty, teasing but all out of love.

ur just his which he reminds you of daily .. "how's my baby," "my favorite girl doing ok?" "you know you're my angel right?"

loves to attack you with love. pushes you on the bed so he can lay all his weight on you (WILL fall asleep like this if you're not careful), tugs on your hair to get you to look at him , pokes or tickles you if he thinks you're not paying enough attention to him

in that vein, very protective of you. if someone is bothering you or just making life difficult he is ready and willing to throw hands. you can tell bc his jaw clenches and his nose flares just a bit until ur like,,sungchan it's really fine just annoying,,, and he's like mmhm sure (still rubs your arm and back to calm himself down..)

wonbin:

holds your hand as long as he can wherever yall go. like if he's saying goodbye :< waits until the door is about to smash his hand to let go of yours

once you get to the stage where he trusts you to share his worries with ..,,, u are locked in like u are 4lifers

teases his friends a lot but is literally putty in your hands like he will do anything for you and would never want you to question his affection for you

best listener . full eye contact (even if it makes you blush) usually playing with your fingers too. brings up things you've mentioned before and ur like,, how do you even remember this I don't even remember this

lowk needs reassurance and his heart gets so warm when you sincerely tell him how you feel and how much you love and appreciate him

seunghan:

finds anything remotely heart-shaped and points it out to you or texts you a picture.

you are literally his baby.,,, even if you're older, you are his baby. adores you, dotes on you, spoils you, feeds you, etc.

so affirming and validating whenever you rant to him. pets your hair and pouts "really baby? that sounds so frustrating but you're doing so well handling it. i'm here if you need me to fight someone :>" (has never fought anyone in his life)

hypeman hypeman hypeman. encourages you in everything you do and will show his support in forms of kisses, sweet words and texts

unlike sungchan he wont be so ,,... intrusive when he can't see you often but he does video call you as much as he can because he NEEDS to check on his lovely lover sweetie pie angel

sohee:

thinks all your quirks are so endearing and makes him fall even deeper for you

wants to learn your native language so bad so he can be closer to you and meet you halfway in communication

sooooo appreciates how you listen to him and his day, his worries, his dreams. wants to be there for you just as much ♡

i think he'd like to leave you little gifts even if it's like a post it note with a candy and a little encouraging message, or something bigger like shoes or a jacket or jewelry you've been eyeing

though he has so much energy, he also loves recharging at home with you, just snuggling and sharing little kisses and snacks.

anton:

appreciates how you never push him out of his comfort zone, grabs your hand as a silent ask for support.

loves to have fun with you ,, going out with you, watching and making silly tiktoks even just laying around and chilling with you makes him so happiiii

will hug you or backhug you and for some reason gets shy and shocked when you kiss him bc he's so cute

yall definitely started as besties ,, so you're already pretty close as a couple except now you get to kiss and stuff which he thinks is pretty great.

has 282922892 pics of you in his phone, printed , polaroids. he’s too shy to hang them up but he keeps one in his wallet and in his phone case to feel like you’re with him all the time :>

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine breaking Sanji’s heart so that he joins the Strawhats…

“I told Zeff that I’m not going to be a waiter.” Sanji’s voice rose, already tense from the shouting match he had with Zeff about leaving the Baratie to follow his dreams.

“Well, you can’t be a cook here either.” You argued, fighting the urge not to throw up at the lies tumbling out of your mouth. “Why do you even want to stay if you know that?”

Sanji stared at you incredulously. “Zeff can’t run this place by himself and I wouldn’t dare to leave you. You know this.” He turned and resumed cleaning the broken plates.

You watched him work quietly. How had your innocent love transform into a flame that slowly swallowed his bridge for opportunity?

He wouldn’t leave the Baratie, Zeff failed to convince his decision and you felt your stomach drop at the realisation of what you had to do to push him over the edge.

You had to break his heart. Composing yourself, you hardened your expression, bracing for what was likely going to be your end.

“I want to be with someone who isn’t a coward.”

Sanji physically reacted to the words. The broken dishes clattered as they hit the floor while his muscles tensed under his shirt.

“Excuse me?” He frowned, looking over his shoulder.

Holding firm, you turned your bones into steel the second that you felt them going weak. As much as it hurt you, you had to hammer further.

“You’re a coward, Sanji. You call yourself a chef with dreams but when the opportunity rises, you hide behind your comforts.”

“I am not a coward.” His tone told you a nerve had been struck.

“You are. You always have been. I just ignored it while being swept by your affection. But not anymore.” You reaffirmed. “I don’t deserve someone so low.”

Picking up the towel from his shoulder, Sanji tossed it on a broken table angrily.

“No, you don’t.” He commented bitterly.

Turning on his heel, the young man stormed out of the Baratie. The only uplifting thought that crossed your mind was that he was headed in the direction of Luffy and his crew.

Now standing in the silence. The realisation of what you had said finally caught up. You had spent countless days laying in his lap dreaming of a future where you’d both sail the seas endlessly for the All Blue.

That’s all it was - a dream.

A choked sob escaped and just like that you were crying, dropping to the floor amongst the broken plates and the shattered remnants of your heart.

Zeff barged in when he heard the loud thump. Worried, the ex-pirate rushed over. He saw the tears and the shaking shoulders and his stomach dropped.

“What have you done? What did you say to him?”

“Nothing that will bring him back.” You whispered.

Zeff bent down and wrapped his arms around you to console but his comfort only forced your heartbreak to the surface. “I’ve lost him, Zeff.”

Running a hand over your back, Zeff was devastated. He was convinced that Sanji would marry you - in fact, Zeff was so convinced that he had already planned out the catering for the day and had a theme or two in mind for the decor.

All he needed was Sanji to place a ring on your finger. But as the day had unfolded, it was clear that it was merely the dream of a fool.

You had achieved what the head chef couldn’t, paying the heaviest price of all - love.

~ More imagines here ~

A/n: This made my heart hurt too x

[hwhimsypc]

Too Busy Being Yours

Keigo Tamaki (Hawks)/Reader

Note: first smut (except that one omegaverse i did with my friend on Ao3, but please bear with me, this is probably bad.) Anyway!

Warnings: 18+ (pretty vanilla), Not proofread

Summary: You don't like Hawks, until a late night of unexpected, Passionate events take place.

Word count: 1857

Enjoy!

Your heels click on the floor as you try to follow Hawks’ quick steps. His long legs makes it difficult to follow him while wearing stilettos. The pile of papers are tightly pressed against your chest, as you desperately try not to drop them. You’re barely looking where you’re going, and almost hit two people. Hawks is pulling you along by your arm, and he’s the only reason you haven’t hit anything yet. 

“Can you slow down?” You hiss between your teeth. He turns his head, a cocky smile perched on his lips. 

“Can’t keep up?”

You roll your eyes. Hawks was always teasing you in the worst situations possible, when you were least in the mood for it. 

“I told you we had to leave earlier.”

“Whatever you say.” He turns back. You’ll be there soon. 

Hawks always had a tack for being late. Being his assistant was by far the most stressful job you’ve ever had. And his constant jokes and cheerfulness were draining sometimes. Even if it was uplifting when you’d had a bad morning. 

You finally get to the interview, in a small apartment on a street corner. You stop to catch your breath, sweat immediately collecting on your brow. Of course, Hawks was irritatingly unaffected. 

“See ya later, darling,” he winks, and you shake your head, ignoring him. You were stressed. This interview gave you a bit of time to focus on all the paperwork you were behind on. 

You of course, don’t see Hawks’ smile quickly fading when he realises you weren’t really affected by his teasing. Funny. He wasn’t used to that. 

Hawks rising in popularity meant more paperwork for you. And paperwork for a top 3 hero wasn’t something that could wait until morning. A headache had been forming behind your forehead for the past two hours and it was simply getting too hard to ignore. You sigh, pushing out your chair, getting up to get yourself another cup of coffee. Was this your fifth today? Your seventh? It doesn’t matter, anyway. The only thing filling your brain is heroes, interviewers and media. The tiredness wasn’t allowed to nudge its way in. You couldn’t afford that. 

You’re so lost in thought, you don’t feel the presence sneaking up on you. Only when two warm hands grab your shoulders and you shriek, heart jumping in your throat. 

“What are you doing here so late?” And oh, it’s just Hawks. You groan, pushing his hand away. 

“Fuck off.” 

You turn to walk away again, suddenly forgetting what it was you came for. But Hawks isn’t giving up so easily. 

“Aww, come on, humour me.”

You’ve had enough. 

You turn around, grabbing his collar in anger. Of course, he doesn’t budge an inch. But it certainly feels good, and you’re tired and irritated, frustrated and angry. And you just… explode. 

“Don’t test me! This has been too long of a day… a week… a month… a year for that matter. You’ve tested my limits every day, for however long I have worked for you, I’m so fucking sick of being your plaything. You don’t respect me, you don’t respect my work-”

“Y/n.”

“You don’t seem to care for how I’m doing, just constantly putting more pressure on me. You never take a moment to stop and think. Maybe you’re not the fucking only person in the world.”

“Y/n.”

“Maybe, for just a second, could you care about someone that isn't you. And maybe, just maybe, would you think it isn’t my job to take care of you when you’re alone or sad, I’m your assistant for god's sake, you big!… fucking!… man baby!”

“Y/n! Oh my god, listen!”

You push him back. “But you never listen to me!”

Hawks’ eyes are wild. He looks flabbergasted, as surprised as you’ve ever seen him. But his open mouth slowly forms into a smirk. Your stomach drops. Whether it’s in anticipation, fear, or maybe even excitement, you don’t know. 

“Oh but I do. About the things that are important.”

You tsk. “What things?”

He looks too smug, as he starts to speak. 

“I know that you deeply hate the guy from block 1.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. 

“I do not-”

He laughs. “Don’t play smart. You frown everytime he opens his mouth during meetings, and always object when he has an idea. It’s obvious.”

Obvious, yet only you’ve noticed. 

It’s your turn to look flabbergasted now. 

“Okay, so maybe he’s not my favourite person in the world, you’re right about that.”

Hawks smiles. 

“And you never wear your hair up. I take it you don’t like the sensation.”

It had never really caught your attention, just how much notice Hawks took of you, compared to how little you took of him. You’re borderline speechless. This always happens to everyone around you. His fans, coworkers, but never you. You 're never affected. The man takes notice, and he suddenly seems closer than before. 

“Cat got your tongue?”

If this were five minutes ago, you would’ve sighed and rolled your eyes. But now, you’re silent. 

“I just- I didn't know.”

His fingers find Your neck and goosebumps travel through your whole body. 

“Didn't know what? That I like you?”

Your immediate reaction is of course, denial. 

“That doesn't make any sense. Why would a pro hero be into someone like-”

But you don't get to finish, as he suddenly pulls you close. 

“I’m going to kiss you. That okay?”

 You’re so surprised that you just freeze, staring up into his big, owlish eyes. You can’t tell what kind of emotion hides behind them. 

“Okay,” you whisper, feeling the desire pull in your chest, more intense than you’d ever experienced. Before you get to take another breath, Hawks lips are on yours, soft and wanting, like this is the last time he’s going to kiss you. You really hope that’s not the case. 

Breathing is the last thing on your mind as your mouths passionately move together. You’re clutching his shirt hard, and you can feel his erection growing against you. 

“I wanna eat you out,” he says, biting your earlobe. The surprisement from all of this has still not entirely passed, but you’ve decided to just go with it. 

“Please,” you moan, and it comes out a lot more desperately than you’d anticipated. You clumsy move towards your desk, his lips sucking eagerly on your neck as you both try to unzip your skirt. He hits a spot on the end of your neck that feels incredibly ticklish and good, and you moan a bit too eagerly as he desperately pushes all of the papers off of your desk in one swipe. 

You feel a stab of irritation in your chest, and is about to give him a piece of your mind, before he pushes you down with practised ease. His incredible strength really comes to sight in a situation like this. It turns you on a lot more than you’d thought it would. you seem to get surprised a lot today.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.”

You’re pretty sure he’d be able to spread them just fine himself, but you still listen, flinching a bit when the cold air hits your aching cunt. You’re so wet already that it’s almost embarrassing. 

He grips your thighs securely, kissing up your inner thighs. You’re so wet that you can feel the slick dripping down to your asshole. 

As soon as he gets started, Hawks is unstoppable. He eats you out like he’s starving. You’re too gone to be embarrassed about the wet squelching sounds, as he eagerly sucks your clit with the confidence of an experienced man. Your legs are shaking, and you’re sure that there will be marks tomorrow from where his fingers grip your thighs tightly. 

“Don’t, ngh- don’t stop!” you loudly breathe out, voice trembling as you, to your utmost surprise, suddenly cum. Everything feels overwhelming as he stops, lifting his head, his whole underface covered in your wetness. 

“You’re acting like I would ever,” he says, a bit out of breath. You can’t deny your attraction to him anymore, especially in a moment like this. “You taste too sweet,” his voice drops an octave as he leans closer to your face, breathing against your lips. “You can’t imagine how long I've wanted to do this. I could go on all night, until you’re completely dry. And then in the morning, I want to fuck you until my body gives out.”

That would take a while, especially with the incredible stamina he has, you think, feeling as if you’re in some kind of pleasant haze. 

“You don’t know how feral I am for you, y/n. It’s scaring even myself.”

You stare up at him in surprise, suddenly unsure of what to do. But you don’t need to be sure about anything, as Hawks leads you through it. 

He pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you, as you wonder how you’re even able to take this. On an uncomfortable desk at that. But true to his word, you’re riding him like you’ve never ridden anyone ever before in his apartment a few hours later as the earliest sunlight start to stream through the curtains. 

Hawks face is pulled back in pleasure as he slides his hands up your hips, shamelessly studying your bouncing breasts. 

“You’re so good for me,” he grumbles, and you let out a pleased whine at the praise. The sheets under you are soaked, but with the way Hawks is praising and caressing you, you feel like you could go on forever. 

His mouth drops open, and you can tell that he’s about to cum. You increase your pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin getting impossibly louder. You just hope the neighbours won’t complain tomorrow. 

It’s incredibly thrilling, having the famous pro hero in the palm of your hand like this.

“I’m going to cum,” He warns, and not even a second later, warmth suddenly fills your belly as his white seeds coat your walls. You cum yourself only seconds later, resisting the urge not to scream as you feel his cum dribble down onto the sheets, your body spasming with the shocks. You hold back a wince at the distant thought that you’d maybe scratched his back a bit too hard. You’ll have to remember to ask him later if he’s okay. But for now, you can barely keep your eyes open. 

“Can we stay like this for a little while?” He asks, and you nod faintly, resting your head on his shoulder. Not a single thought passes behind your eyes, only the warmth of your bodies sticking together and Hawks, Hawks, Hawks. 

You didn’t care about the mess. Right now, you only cared about him. And that was enough.

[harry-styles-obsessed]

Can you do one where reader and him are best friends and he walks in on her changing and they both get really flustered? from his pov?

Delicate point of view

A/N: THANK YOU FOR THIS REQUEST!!! So sorry for not getting back to it!! My apps been buggy and hasn’t been showing me any submissions but it’s starting to work again!! I hope you didn’t have to wait too long for this… thank you for the support my loves. I adore each and every one of you!!

This as requested will be in Harry’s POV but I’ll be using ‘him’ I can just write easier that way instead of using ‘I’ and of course adding in ‘you/y/n’ whenever applicable. I hope that’s okay my love. Thank you again for the request!!

Pairings: Harry x insecure! Reader (decided it could make it more cute!!) exact weight/ body not specified to be all inclusive for different insecurities!!

©️ please do not copy or translate my work.

-

Harry had, had a busy day at the recording studio. He was a busy man with a busy schedule and sometimes it was impossible to spend time with those he loved however he had found some time to finally spend some time to relax with you— his best friend. You had been his friend for a long time, since childhood practically. You had both seen each other grow. He had seen you on your best days and worst days and had seen you grow into a mature beautiful woman. He always adored you, seeing you as the most gorgeous person ever but he never made any advances upon you. Not because he didn’t want to but because he didn’t know how you felt, you sometimes seemed like you wanted him but then at other points you seemed to not want him…. Whether that be due to insecurity or fear of something certain he couldn’t of been sure but gods did he wish he could be with you sometimes. You were both intimate people whom adored one another but nothing ever pushed you guys over the edge of dipping your toes into the depths of love.

He slowly pushed your front door open, he had sent you a message letting you know he was coming to yours for a bit and you were in the shower but your phone had been left on the messages so it indicated you had seen it so Harry walked into the home, quietly shutting the door behind him. He then began walking upstairs wandering into your room gently pushing the door open “y/n I’m here and—“ “HARRY!!” His words were cut off by your voice as you stood there wide eyed dressed in just your underwear and bra. “ohhhh… shit.” He cussed as you both stared at each other wide eyed, his eyes trailed up and down your body a flush of red covering his face his green eyes wide as he admired you thoroughly, he could’ve looked at you all day- admiring all the curves on your body. The tone of your skin… the way your skin looked so soft and delectable… it made his heart race. You genuinely looked perfect to him. His eyes continued scanning up and down your body, unable to look away. Harry had always been the perfect match for you, you were insecure and desperately needed someone to uplift you. Sometimes your weight and body in general scared you and Harry didn’t hesitate to- as your best friend- assure you that weight didn’t matter. Assure you that a real man or a real mature human being would love you as you were… but still right now you were scared shitless. What if he thought you were ugly? you were just unable to speak in general too shocked and rather horrified that your handsome best friend was here staring at you practically nude. Your mouth opened and closed over and over again like a fish, unable to get your words out until eventually— “Harry cover your eyes!!!” Came from your lips and Harry quickly threw a hand over his eyes his ring covered fingers covering his eyes “Jesus Christ y/n..” he chuckled shaking his head “don’t peak!! I swear to god harry,” his cheeks were flushed bright red and he only laughed keeping his eyes covered, “don’t laugh Harry oh my god!! How embarrassing. Oh my god my best friend just saw me nude!” He continued chuckling at your rambling and just for your comfort to make you more comfortable he turned around.

His hands rested on his hips as he stared at the door listening to you rummage around clearly trying to get dressed “I don’t know why you’re freaking out so much, y/n.” He spoke. “Because YOU Harry fucking styles!! My BEST FRIEND!! Saw me…. Nude! Saw my body!” He could see your shadow moving slightly proving your hands were moving about as you practically freaked out more. He laughed still bright red “not completely nude…” “Harry! Not the point!” His dimples appeared as he grinned.

He heard you groan slightly as you nearly tripped up from putting on your jeans so quickly, your hands trembling your face flushed and your eyes watering fearfully. Harry was genuinely the kindest human being ever but still it terrified you for him to see you like this. “You okay?” He asked and you nodded, before eventually remembering he couldn’t see you and murmuring a quiet “yeah.”

You pulled on your T-shirt as finally you were fully dressed again and Harry turned around looking at you with a small smile before his smile disappeared “hey… what’s the matter?” His brows furrowed concerned and he walked towards you only for you to step backwards “y/n… hey.” He reached out grabbing onto your trembling hands holding onto your hands securely before he brought your hands up to his lips pressing soft kisses to your hands “what’s wrong. You look like you’re about to cry,” he pointed out concerned for you watching as you tried to shy away but he gently cupped your cheek in his hand. He knew the look on your face, he wasn’t stupid, he saw the insecurity the way the fear and sadness flashed before your eyes and he exhaled softly “let me guess… you’re afraid I think you’re ugly?” His words hurt your heart and you looked at him, your lower lip trembling slightly giving him the answer he needed. Sure you were both only best friends but he was always so tender with you. “Darling… don’t be silly. You’re beautiful inside and out… and seeing you without clothes on…. You’re just more gorgeous.” He spoke with a reassuring smile. “Really?” And he nodded his head “of course really. Cant you see my face..?” He chuckled out and you took time to finally examine his face cheeks bright red, eyes glistening, and a wide smile on his face his dimples very apparent. “Oh…” you trailed off softly and he smiled before holding your face in his hands stroking his thumbs against your cheeks lovingly “you’re so so beautiful… the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Soon in a rather intimate way Harry leaned in to press soft kisses against your forehead, before trailing the kisses down your cheeks, across your nose, to your other cheek and down to your chin gently avoiding your lips “every part of you. Your nose…. Your cheeks… your lips.. your eyes… your body. All of you is… perfection.” He always knew how you were insecure, how you tried to fit in how perfect you tried to be how the pressure of society was nowadays to have a “perfect” body and perfect face. “Do you really think I’m beautiful? Perfect?” You asked with teary eyes and he nodded his head slowly “of course.” He continued stroking his thumbs against your cheeks softly “I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again… whatever you weigh. Whatever anybody weighs… to the right person… it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. But there’ll always be judgemental people out there… but no matter what my love… you’re beautiful…. Fuck what anyone else thinks. You’re my best friend and I think you’re perfect. I know you’re perfect.”

You smiled staring into his eyes watching as he began getting closer and closer until his lips were brushing against yours in a subtle kiss, as if making sure it was okay with you, but you didn’t respond— too shocked, but at you not pulling back, he took that as a yes and leaned in kissing you more deeply pressing his lips hard against yours but the tenderness remained, his hand caressing against your cheek, before eventually he pulled back after a singular kiss to look into your eyes “and… also…” his thumb brushed against your cheek “butterflies can’t see their wings, but they’re beautiful without knowing it.” His lips curved into a small smile as your smile slowly grew and you leaned in kissing him realising just how perfect you both were for each other… the butterflies within your stomach swirled desperately. Oh how you loved him and oh how he loved you.

[flowerinjuries]

Heyoo, can you do yuta as bf just like the one you did for Mark?

yuta as a boyfriend <3

the soft side:

oh this guy was crushing on you so hard before you two started actually dating

to him it was like love at first sight

did not hesitate to be a flirt

i’m sure he asked you out in a cheesy romantic way with flowers and a huge grin on his face

at the start of the relationship he’s just really giggly and soft

holds doors open for you

he likes to take candid pics of you because you’re just so cute

he just wants to remember the small moments spent with you

he definitely shows you off

loves seeing you wear something sexy and acting confident when you two go out

such a laid back boyfriend

he knows you’re his so he doesn’t really get jealous besides you both know no one can fuck you better than yuta

anyways you definitely love bragging about him to your friends

they all agree he’s so good to you and makes you so happy

yuta is lowkey a romantic

loves doing traditional things like holding your hand and paying for you

he’s also like your personal chauffeur

loves to go on long destination-less drives with you

especially at sundown and nighttime

you know his hand is gripping your thigh as you sit in his passenger seat

this man glances over at you 24/7 just to soak in and memorize your beauty

like i said he’s really laid back

you two will have dates where you just sit on the couch listening to a new album or watching a scary movie so he can hold you when you’re scared even though he also is scared

he gets so excited when you ask him personal questions or show interest in him

he just adores your attention and loves spending time with you

has all sorts of nicknames for you like baby, angel, sweetheart, dolly.. the list goes on

he’s so fragile with you and your feelings

wipes your tears away and coddles you

he always has your back and is never afraid to stand up for you

he’s your personal hype man so he’s always cheering you on and always takes your side

loves to smother you with his hugs

you act like you’re annoyed or you can’t breathe but in reality being this close to him gives you an excuse to really take in his warmth and his amazing scent

idk why but i just know this man smells so fucking good ok

that’s why you never sleep on your own side of the bed

you just have to be as close to yuta as possible

he doesn’t mind though, he always welcomes you with open arms

he’s so cute when he’s all sleepy

random thought but i think yuta definitely wears a necklace with your name or initial on it

needs the whole world to know you’re his

and he’s just so confident too

especially since you two started dating

you definitely gave him an ego boost

i could go on and on but i feel like this is getting too long…

overall yuta is the sweetest most perfect boyfriend who you just get along with so well

all he does is uplift you and push you to do your best and be proud of who you are

yeah he’s perfect

the not-so-soft side (nsfw/18+):

a fucking sex god

the definition of brat tamer

no you’re never gonna dom this man

maybe he’ll let you, but it won’t last long

he’s super freaky and super down to try anything you want to

first and foremost he prioritizes your safety and comfort

don’t forget your safe word

ok yuta has a lot of kinks

did i mention he’s a brat tamer?

don’t you dare piss him off

piss him off anyway though because then you’ll have the best sex of your life lol

he’s sadistic and loves angry sex

i said he’s not jealous, but when he’s fucking you he is sooooo possessive

“scream my name again, yeah? remind everyone who fucking owns you”

“you think he could ever fuck you as good as me? huh? do you? what a good fucking joke, y/n. let’s see who will be laughing when i fuck you so hard you can’t even make a noise other than the sound of my name leaving your dry, fucked-out throat”

yeahhhhhhh

he probably fingers you with his cold silver rings still on

he likes when you tug on his hair, but he likes it more when he’s pinning your wrists down

likes it when you really can’t move :(

so that’s why he’s super into bondage

has cute pink rope he ties around your skin so tight it bruises

gags you with your own panties

after he has a taste of course

yuta gets what he wants first

loves to fuck you with his tongue

you ride his face while your hands are tied either behind your back or handcuffed to the bed

ok that’s enough

he wants to fuck your throat

“god stop fucking crying over this. how’s it gonna be once i finally fuck your sopping wet hole? what are you gonna do then? such a fucking cry baby. you can barely take what i’m giving you now, so why should i give you more?”

smacks your ass until it’s red

grips the back of your neck and forces your face into the mattress so he hears your muffled screams

just imagine him fucking into you at a really hard and fast pace as the cold necklace with your name on it hits his chest back and forth

if only you could see it though ;)

he grunts really loudly

he has such a filthy mouth

he just gets angry when his baby is bratty

someone has to put you in your place

warns you to never make him angry again after he cums all over you

you give him a look with your wet puppy eyes that promise that you’ll be good

but you both know you’re gonna act up again

yuta is the king of aftercare

cleans you up with warm towels and runs you a bubble bath

washes your hair and body for you as your body goes limp in the tub

kisses your cheeks

maybe gives you a massage too

dresses you in your pjs

combs your hair and sings you to sleep softly as you two face each other

yuta is perfect

crying

thanks for reading! as always, asks are open! don’t hesitate to send me any thoughts you have :)

[senditcolton]

Request: Mean Marty smut. Because “we’re a bad idea” is completed (loved the character progression in that last chapter, by the way), there’s a good chance Lamoriello isn’t re-signing him and Clutter, and this entire off-season has hurt my heart. Dealer’s choice on the content.

- 💛

I'm Not Sentimental, but...

a/n: considering the way I managed to write all of this in a single night I feels just proves how much I kind of missed writing smut. why is it always this man to pull me back to smut writing? the world may never know. inspired by this moodboard by @smileysvech, this ask from a previous thirst night, and this proposal from @comphy-and-cozy, (not sure if you'll get the full epic, but here's a little taste)

Song Inspo: "Billie Bossa Nova" by Billie Eilish Word Count: 5k Warnings: smut. sugar daddy/baby dynamics, bondage, sensory deprivation, oral (m receiving), sex toys, overstimulation, dirty talk, and just general depravity... I'm going to hell, it's fine.

Aman. Premiere Suite. Ten o’clock. Sharp.

That was the four sentence text message Matt Martin had sent you earlier today. A text message that you had been repeating in your head almost religiously, as if being able to recite it from memory would make him forgive you for the fact that it was now 10:15 and you were still a block away.

Hell, being able to recite the message would most likely get you into even more trouble.

Instead of memorizing the now irrelevant text, you should’ve been practicing a rehearsed speech of excuses to tell him when you finally did arrive: your boss kept you at work for longer than expected, you had to stop at your house to get ready, dressing to the parameters that Matt had set in the text massage prior to the one rattling in your brain. Anything that would transfer the blame from you onto someone else. But you knew it would be pointless.

Matt loved reminding you that you were capable of anything. A reminder that was uplifting when brought up in conversations about the education he was helping pay for. A reminder that was shameful when he said it in that degrading tone that made you weak in the knees.

When the two of you had agreed to this dynamic all those months ago, you knew what you were signing up for. Being a sugar baby wasn’t for the meek. That statement was only amplified when you added Matt Martin to the equation.

After all, no sane person would willingly agree to trudge down New York City streets in a set of highly risqué lingerie, the only protection between you and indecent exposure being a long tan trench coat.

Yet… here you were.

A sigh of relief whooshes out of you when you see the neon sign of the hotel ahead, your pace quickening as if that would make up for lost time. You try to keep an air of confidence about you as you walk into the lobby, your heels clicking on the tile floor. The song-and-dance at the front desk is blissfully short – only the words ‘premiere suite’ needed to fall from your mouth before someone is escorting you to the private elevator. You step inside, the doors closing and you watch the LED numbers increase, your heartrate rising with it.

You were so late. You were in so much trouble. But, instead of the dread you should’ve felt at the thought of facing Matt’s disappointment, there was a thrum of excitement running through you.  

It wasn’t anything to lie about. In fact, Matt often liked to tease you, asking if you broke the rules on purpose because you liked the punishment. Whenever he asked, both you and he knew that there was no denying the truth.

It was a deliciously predictable game of cat-and-mouse. You knew exactly how far you could push and he knew exactly how much you could take. It was a transaction, like every other part of your arrangement. And while some might think that knowledge would dampen the mood, it actually just made it even more intoxicating.

The elevator finally stops, the doors opening directly into the suite – an elegantly decorated room decked in the blacks and beiges that screamed bougie. You step forward, out of the elevator, your heels sinking into the carpet as your eyes dart around the room, looking for Matt. You eventually spy the outline of his tall frame in front of the opened bay doors, the cool air streaming in from the balcony, fluttering the curtains. He has his back to you, his arms crossed and you see an empty whiskey glass dangling from his fingers.

He knew you were there. He had to have known that you were there, the elevator ding when you arrived being anything but subtle. Yet, he didn’t acknowledge you – just kept staring out at 5th Avenue.

Perhaps against your better judgement, you decide to break the silence with a gentle whisper of his name but before you could add another word to the single syllable sentence, his voice cuts you off.

“What time is it?”

It’s a somewhat rhetorical question but one that demands an answer nonetheless. He knew the time but more importantly, he knew that you knew the time. But he wanted you to acknowledge it – admit your failings – and that delectable shame causes the heat to rise in your cheeks.

“10:28,” you whisper out and your quiet admission has Matt turning to face you. He looks good, like always. The white button-down shirt is cut perfectly to his body, the black of his slacks and his tan tie making it seem like he belonged in this room. Everything about him screamed power and luxury, from the Windsor knot still snug below his throat, to the Rolex on his wrist, to his cufflinks glinting in the low lamplight.

“10:28,” he repeats. He moves forward, quickly abandoning his glass on a nearby table, his now empty hands coming to grip your chin and tilt your head back to lock your eyes with his. “It’s like you don’t want to see me,” he muses, the dangerous sparkle in his irises only hinting at what was to come.

“Of course, I do,” you rebut, the pleading edge to your voice sounding almost too sickly sweet to even your ears. “But –”

Whatever words you had poised to fall from your lips are silenced by Matt pulling your face towards him to crash his lips against yours. You should hate how much you melt under his touch, how willingly you open your mouth to allow his tongue to have access. But you don’t. It was nearly impossible to hate Matt Martin, even when his lips disappear from yours.

“No excuses, sweetheart. We both know any excuse you have could be resolved if you just let me take care of you entirely,” he whispers, his thumb brushing along your jawline.

The proposal isn’t new; it’s one that he had casually suggested almost every night since your arrangement started. It was also pointless to argue with him because he was telling the truth. He had enough money to make it so you could exist to only be on his arm and at his beck and call. But that wasn’t the life you had envisioned. He knew that. He respected that.

This was your boundary for him; one that he liked to toy at but you knew he would never cross.

“I know,” you whisper, having no other answer to give him. It seems to be enough, that lazy smug smile appearing on his face; the one that had Islander fans cheer and opponents sneer when he was playing. One that occasionally appeared in press conferences he attended as Assistant General Manager. It signals an end to the conversation and acts as a segue into the inevitable.

His hands fall from your face, moving to your coat as he deftly unties the long belt from its cinched position around your waist. The material slips from your frame with a surprising ease, leaving you clad in the lingerie he requested – the set he bought you a week ago. The undergarments are more for decoration than actual function, considering the only coverage on your chest was a pair of satin ribbons and the fabric around your hips disappeared when it came time to cover your core.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, his hands delicately tracing the lines of your body, toying with but not undoing the bows on your chest and hips. The sharp breath that he sucks in between his teeth at the sight of you makes the heat pool in your lower stomach.

“Wanted to make sure I looked perfect for you.”

“Think that will excuse you for being late?” he asks, that smirk reappearing as his head cocks to the side. You quickly shake your head in a negative (even though you hoped that flattery would get you out of whatever torture was to come), an action to which his only response is a deep chuckle.

He walks away from you for a moment, the space between Matt’s heat and your newly exposed body allowing the coolness of the night air to hit your skin. You watch him pick up the pale pink leather cuffs that you only now realized had been waiting for you on the table next to the whiskey glass he abandoned a few short minutes ago.

“Wrists.”

The single word is all it takes for you to present your hands to him, watching with baited breath as he wraps the material around your joints, buckling the hardware securely against your skin. You let him guide your arms behind your back, the click of the restraints locking together seemingly reverberating around your ribcage.

“Knees.”

It is somewhat ridiculous how single syllable words are all Matt needs to utter to have you obeying him perfectly. The descent to your knees is easy, the plush carpet forgiving, and your eyes glance up, tracking Matt’s movement as he walks back in front of you, towering over your body more than he usually did. His hands come to his neck, elegant fingers undoing his tie, allowing the material to now drape down either side of his collar. He continues to deconstruct the professional façade he was wearing like a mask, unbuttoning the top buttons of his dress shirt and removing the cufflinks to roll up his sleeves. His hands return to the silken material of his tie, pulling one side until it falls from his frame. It takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize his intentions with said material, a pout forming on your lips as he takes the fabric in both hands.

“Don’t give me that look, darling,” he coos as he moves the material towards your face, the stretch of fabric between his fists the perfect length to wrap around your head, the high-quality silk covering your eyes and plunging the room into darkness. You feel his adept fingers loop the material, careful not to get it tangled in your hair as he tugs a secure knot against the back of your skull.

“Felt like you didn’t want to see me tonight anyway,” he muses, his voice now becoming your only guide as he continues, “since you were almost a half-hour late.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine, knowing that the plea, no matter how pathetic, would fall onto deaf ears.

“I know, sweetheart.”

His reply is pitying but firm – a staple in the dynamic established between the two of you. Rules had been laid out and it was only befitting that when one was broken, a punishment followed.

Although, the sound of his belt buckle coming undone combined with the snap of the leather as it slipped from his belt loops didn’t sound like the beginnings of a punishment to you.

Your mouth opens with practiced ease, outstretching your tongue and submitting yourself to him in what you were sure looked like the most perfect bow-tied present. He chuckles and you feel his fingers grip your chin again before his thumb is pressing against the pink muscle of your tongue.

“That eager for me, aren’t you?”

You only response is to wrap your lips around the digit, gently suckling – just enough to tempt him into giving you the real thing. He laughs, his thumb slipping out of the wet cavern of your mouth before the sound of him unzipping of his dress pants causes your mouth to open again.

It is slight torture, waiting for him, not being able to see him and not being able to know what was coming and when it was coming. But that only heightened the excitement you felt when the delectable weight of his shaft came to rest on your outstretched tongue. You feel the appendage slide against you, the tip of it disappearing into your mouth – shallowly at first but slowly increasing its depth. You press your tongue against the bottom of his length, a silent indication that you were willing and ready to take all of him, one that Matt reads and responds to by holding the side of your head as his hips begin to move, thrusting into your mouth. You relax your throat, allowing him to slip deeper as he takes what he needs from your body, the filthy praise rolling from his lips while yours are otherwise occupied.

“Never get tired of this,” he groans from above you. “Never get tied of seeing your mouth wrapped around my cock. Of feeling your throat constrict around me. Such a good girl – such a pretty perfect slut for me.”

You can hear his words become stuttered, feel the steady rhythm of his thrusts turn staccato and it isn’t long until his climax comes, the feeling of his release filling your mouth almost as intoxicating as the taste of him. You suck, cleaning him with an eager deftness that has him groaning, a trill running through you. You wish you could see him – see the post-orgasm glow that alit his skin, see the way he pushes back the strands of hair that always fell over his forehead. For the first time since he took your sight away, it felt like a punishment.

He finally pushes back, the silky smoothness of his length removing itself from your mouth until a single string of silverly saliva is all that connects you. A laugh emanates from his chest as he takes you in, surely looking like a mess with the sheen of sweat on your skin, the spit on you lips, the track of tears escaping from underneath the makeshift blindfold.

“Y’look so beautiful. Gonna take a picture,” he mutters and you gently nod your head in consent.

You hear the click of a phone camera before Matt’s hands are back on your body, this time lifting you up off the ground before trailing down your arms to unclasp the restraints. He doesn’t remove the material from your eyes, leaving you still blind as he guides you further into the room. You allow him to manipulate your body, letting him push and turn you until he is gently pressing you back against the mattress of the king-sized bed, the sheets gliding against your skin. He guides your arms up over your head and your once again hear the click of the restraints although this time when you tug, the resistance you are met with is not your own wrists but a wooden bedframe.

Another whine escapes from you, the previous act of having him in your mouth only succeeding in making you even more desperate; something that Matt most likely knew, hence why he still prevented you from touching him or even seeing him. You are simply forced to wait in deprived silence, listening intently to every noise that hits your eardrums for indication on what was to come.

You hear the rustle of fabric, the zip of a zipper, and what you think is a small chuckle from Matt before you can feel his weight sink onto the mattress. Your thighs fall open of their own volition but Matt doesn’t tease you about it, instead happy to drink in the sight of your soaked core.

“Oh, that wet already, aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks and judging by the dampness you can feel on your skin, you can only imagine how lewd the display must appear. “Got this desperate from me fucking your face? Such a perfect slut, always ready for me.”

Another whimper falls from your lips, the rolling of your hips acting as both a confirmation that you wanted him and a silent plea for him to give you more than just his words. The sigh that escapes you when you feel him trace down your thigh is blissful, until you realize that it is not Matt’s rough calloused fingers slowly trailing towards your core, but instead a soft silicone.

“No, please,” you whimper out as Matt moves the toy closer to the apex of your thighs, the rounded head coming to glide against your slick folds. “Want you Matt. Want your cock.”

“You already got it tonight,” he whispers, the toy trailing up until the tip of it presses against your clit.

“Want your cock inside me.”

“You want me to fuck your perfect cunt? Want to feel me stretching that tight little pussy open?”

Your only response is a desperate whine as your hips buck, the action forcing the toy to bump against your bundle of nerves, causing your breathing to stutter. Matt holds the wand in place and you can feel him hovering over you, his breath fanning across your cheekbones.

“Then you should’ve been on time,” he whispers, his sentence punctuated by the click of the power button, the sudden vibrations forcing a downright pornographic moan to fall from your lips. He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against you, the buzz of it filling the room.

Your already desperate state accompanied by the low and steady hum of the vibrator means that your climax hits you faster than expected, the warmth of it washing over your body as you whine and writhe against the sheets. Matt waits until your body is no longer trembling to remove the toy from your core before turning it off, returning the room to its former silence.

That should have been the end of it, the deprivation of touch, of sight, and of him, seeming to you like punishment enough. But when the head of the vibrator is pressed against your sensitive core again, your mind is left reeling.

Your confusion allows Matt to roughly grab your leg, pulling it closer until the firm length of the wand is pressed against the supple flesh of your inner thigh. The sensation is quickly followed by another, the feeling of a different material wrapping around the toy and your leg. It takes a minute to recognize the light scratch of the fabric as the belt that used to be looped around your trench coat.

“Wh- ” you begin to ask, the simple question not even being completed before Matt shushes you, his hands still working to wrap the belt around your skin.

His hand tugs at your other thigh until you can feel them press together, the sensation of your skin fully sticking to each other impeded only by the wand firmly held into place by your limbs. But the intention behind those registered touches doesn’t fully hit you until you feel the cinch of the belt tightening around both of your legs.

“Matt, please, don’t,” you beg, the understanding of what he was about to do hitting you like a freight train. Your wrists tug at your restraints, a mantra repeating in your brain that says he couldn’t possibly be this mean.

“What are you whining about, darling? I’m about to give you more pleasure than you probably deserve.”

You whimper, knowing that he had a point. He could’ve switched the entire script, going with the torture of edging you but never allowing you a release instead of the painful bliss of overstimulation. But you needed him. Not a toy, not an orgasm – him.

“I know you can take it, like the perfect whore you are,” he mutters, his fingers tracing over the ridges of your face, that depredating praise making another zing of desire flow through you, the arousal gushing from your core even more noticeable to you because of the bindings on your legs. “But if you don’t think you can, all you have to do is tell me.”

He is giving you a choice to end it here, to have him untie you and let him take care of you. But as much as you wanted him to coddle you, you wanted to earn it. Matt knew that – you were always looking to prove yourself to anyone – hence his phrasing. Another trick in his arsenal.

So, instead of the safe-word, another plea escapes your lips, your begging consent for him to continue. You can’t see it, but that grin pulls across Matt’s features once again, a smirk of both power and admiration aimed directly at you. His hand falls from your face, trailing a torturous path down your body before dancing across your bound thighs.

The vibrations that hit you are expected and yet somehow manage catch you entirely off-guard, your core still sensitive from your previous orgasm. A high-pitched moan crawls its way up your throat as your muscles clench, your back arching.

“There she is. There’s my good girl,” Matt whispers, his praise the only thing strong enough to cut through the haze that you felt slowly enveloping you. “Feels good, yeah?”

A pathetic whimper is the only response that you can give, the sensations assaulting your body rendering you essentially speechless. Usually, that was sufficient but Matt’s mean streak seems to be never-ending, the click of his tongue sounding throughout the room.

“No, sweetheart, I need your words.”

There is a proper answer – one that you learned quickly after you once said yes and that agreement led to even more discipline. Now, the words were caught in your throat, not because you didn’t know what to say but because it was difficult to even form a string of syllables that was in any way coherent.

“Not as good as you,” you manage to choke out, your sentence rendered choppy by the hiccups of gasps that you couldn’t hold back.

You feel the mattress shift, Matt’s weight disappearing and you have no shame in letting your protest be heard, a pitiful mewl ripping its way out of your throat. You can barely hear Matt’s chuckle before you register the mattress dipping again, this time on either side of your head. It’s the press of Matt’s lips against yours that has your second orgasm crashing over you, unabashed moans falling from your mouth into his, all of which Matt greedily swallows. The orgasm fades only briefly before your body writhes again, the restraints around your wrists and your legs holding you and the vibrator tight.

Matt’s lips disappear from yours, another strangled groan falling from your lips, the sound now only hindered by your dwindling sense of self-control.

“I’m going to take a shower,” you hear Matt explain. His voice is cruelly casual; it was as if he was discussing the weather, as if he wasn’t leaving you bound with the wand still humming between your thighs, abusing your oversensitive core. “I can see you trying to quiet all those pretty little noises you want to make. Let them out, sweetheart. I want to hear you – want all of New York to hear what a good little slut you are.”

You aren’t sure whether it is his encouragement or your own desire that erases any lingering shame you have in your body, your moans now falling freely. The only praise that Matt gives you is a quiet ‘there she is’ before you can sense his presence disappearing from the room, the confirmation coming in the sound of the showerhead turning on.

When your third orgasm thrums through your body, you realize that your current predicament was more of a challenge than anything else. Not just to have Matt hear you over the crash of the water but to even stay coherent enough to do so, a test you were starting to fail as you feel the weight of your sub-space prick at the corner of your eyes. You try to ground yourself by listing every sensation: the way the sheets dampen with sweat underneath you, the way the supple leather digs into your wrists, the cool breeze coming from the window dancing over your skin. But everything is slowly drowned out by the incessant buzz of the vibrator between your legs, still pressed against your clit, that constant stimulation forcing your body to writhe, your thighs to slicken, your chest to heave.

The noises that do manage to fall from you are a jumble compilation of sighs, moans, and curses, each less coherent with every orgasm that passes through you. It is the most delicious torture, the relief of a climax followed swiftly by the borderline pain of the vibrations still going. There is no quantifying anything: how long you’ve been here, how many orgasms had been ripped from your body, how tears you’ve shed from the overstimulation. You’ve lost all sense of anything else but the hum between your legs and the torturous pleasure it brings.

Finally – finally – after yet another orgasm has crashed into you, the vibrations stop and you can’t help the absolute half-sob, half-sigh of relief that huffs from your chest. That sub-space that you had been fighting off, you now give into with a sigh, allowing the haze to sink into your body. It encompasses you, making you feel as if you were floating in the vastness of space, as if you were being smothered in velvet. The only thing that keeps you somewhat tied to earth is Matt’s gentle voice, the quiet praise falling from his lips. It takes Matt lifting you off the mattress and cradling you in his arms for you to fully come back to the present moment. Only then do you realize all the fabric that was previously tied along your body was gone, leaving you naked. You don’t care, choosing instead to nuzzle deeper into Matt’s chest as he whisks you away, your eyelids fluttering open and readjusting to the low candlelight of the bathroom.

Matt gently places you down into the tub already filled with warm water, the temperature feeling heavenly as it penetrates your muscles. A soft kiss on your temple is what Matt leaves you with before he exits the room, closing the door firmly behind him. You swear you hear hushed voices emanating from underneath the door but you are still too dazed to even bother worrying yourself over it. Eventually, Matt returns, this time with a small cart carrying a bottle of champagne and a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.

“Drink this first,” he quietly demands, handing you an ice-cold water bottle. “All of it.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice, the chilled liquid never feeling more refreshing against your tongue, coating your sore throat. You give the empty bottle back to him, the plastic being replaced by smooth glass as he hands you a champagne flute, before leaning against the side of the tub with his own glass. You take in his appearance, hair still damp from his shower, only a pair of sweatpants on his frame. His own blue eyes appraise you similarly, the quiet concern mixing with a pure devotion in his irises. You finally decide to break the silence, your voice sounding terribly hoarse as you whisper.

“’M hungry.”

Matt just smiles before grabbing the plate of strawberries, setting them down on the small stool next to the bathtub, making it easy for you to reach them. You happily munch on the fruit, feeling a modicum of energy return to you as you lean back and let Matt take care of you. His hands move beneath the water, massaging your tight muscles before grabbing the soft cotton washcloth, dampening the material in order to wipe away the sweat still clinging to your skin. You only protest once with a small hiss when he brushes against your oversensitive core, the sound quieted with a hush. The praise that fell from his mouth might have just been repeated from earlier but this time you could register it and every word made your body warm.

Sounded so pretty for me. I knew you could handle it, my perfect girl. You did so well.

He eventually lets the bath drain, helping you out of the porcelain tub and drying off the water from your body. The plush complimentary robe is thrown over your frame and Matt takes your arm, gently guiding you back to the bedroom. You can’t stop the breathy laugh that falls from your lips when you spy the shopping bags, designer labels on all of them, now piled up by one side of the bed – a bed that had been stripped and remade with fresh sheets.

“For you,” Matt whispers in your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple. You reply by turning your head towards him to press your lips onto his. It is gentler than any other kiss you shared tonight and you melt into his embrace. He helps you slip underneath the sheets, his broad body not far behind as he wraps his arms around you, pulling your back into his chest.

“I could make it so that you would never have to work again,” he whispers to you, reiterating the proposal that he postulated almost every time he saw you. You are about to retort, a sigh of his name falling from your lips before he silences your protest by continuing. “I know, you like to feel independent. And I admire that about you. I just like having you by my side.”

You rotate your body in the bed, turning to face him, the sharp angles of his face highlighted by the lights of the city that never sleeps.

“I like being by your side,” you whisper, your heart soaring at the sight of his smile.

“I don’t want you to give up your life – become some sort of trophy or anything. I respect you too much to ask you to do that. Just… promise me you’ll think about it.”

He doesn’t fully elaborate what it is: whether he meant allowing your dynamic to expand to every aspect of your life so you could do what you wanted without the pressure of making money or whether he meant becoming his completely, without any monetary value placed on the relationship you shared.

But, the silence of the hotel room, you come to realize that there is little difference between those two possibilities.

Matt wouldn’t just stop taking care of you if he wasn’t bound by a contract. He was more than that. What you shared was more than that; more than a number in your bank account, more than the amount of designer product in your closet, more than a simple transaction.

It was something real.

[mybiasisexo]

HI! Happy New Year!

Can I request #51 with Chanyeol pls? Wishing you all the best for 2024! Thanks in advance!

Distraction 🏋️‍♂️

Part 2 Genre: fluff | personal trainer!au Pairing: Chanyeol x f.Reader Length: 2.3k Warnings: Chanyeol is a warning all in himself boy!!!

a/n: I said i was gonna make a gym drabble and baby here it is!!! This isnt really fluff, but its def not angst. What other genres are there??? I could've made this 6k is2g lmao i want the smut 😂. but ayye these are just drabbles! I'll behave. Sorry for the delay! Thank you so much for the request 😚 this gif of him alwaaaays makes me crazy like if i stare at it for too long ill scream. no im not ok thanks for asking

DRABBLE GAME | MASTERLIST

Dread filled you as you gazed at the building looming in front of you. Your worst enemy—the gym.

You despised the place for two reasons. The first was simple, it was a gym, pretty self-explanatory. The second reason was your personal trainer, Park Chanyeol.

You swore from the moment he was assigned to you he made it his mission to make you never come back. He had to have a torture kink or something, with the stuff he had you doing. You’ve pushed yourself to the point of puking a few times under his care, and still he would make you keep going.

And sure, you were seeing results. And, yeah, it was getting easier. You felt yourself growing stronger with every session. He was good at what he did, even if his practices had you questioning the legality of it all.

With a withering sigh, you got out of your car and made your way to what was your personal hell.

You spotted Chanyeol as soon as you entered. He was standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, legs spread apart, looking rather unimpressed as he hovered over a guy struggling to do pushups.

You tried not to stare too long at those exposed arms, the massive muscles bulging over his just as firm chest. He always wore the same thing: black basketball shorts with a black muscle shirt that left little to the imagination of how much time he spent at the gym. You’d only ever seen him work out once yourself and…. You refused to let your thoughts wander to that moment.

As if he could hear where your mind was attempting to go, his eyes flickered up to where you were scanning in your membership badge. A wolfy grin split his face as he took you in, the heat of his gaze made you shiver.

He only acknowledged you for a second. It took you a beat too long to realize he was counting his client’s reps. Ignoring him, you headed over to a secluded corner and started your warm up stretches. Chanyeol helped the poor dude up, that strength of his coming in clutch when his client’s knees buckled and he almost hit the floor.

You winced, knowing that pain. Luckily, this gym had darkly painted walls and dim lighting to give its customers a sense of privacy. It helped that it was later in the night, nearing eleven, so there wasn’t many people present to watch him struggle. As well as yourself. That was why you preferred coming late. Less people, less judgement, and it wore you out enough that you could go straight to bed as soon as you got home—after a post workout meal, if Chanyeol were to ask.

He clapped the scraggly man on his back, making him cough, and gave some uplifting words as they slowly made their way to the front door. You were just finishing your stretches when thick bowlegs were in front of you. You were sitting on the floor, so you had to look up, up, up that firm trunk of a frame to meet those round eyes of his alight with humor.

“You actually showed up today?” Chanyeol asked, tilting his head curiously. His shaggy hair fell into his stare.

You glared at him as you climbed to your feet. “Well, I figured you haven’t killed me yet.”

“Yet.” His grin was a warning. He nudged his head to the rather empty machines. “Come on. It’s leg day.”

You let out a relieved breath. It was torture for sure, but leg day was your favorite. He led you to a machine and you got to work.

You tried to focus on the tasks given to you. To focus on your posture, your breathing, on keeping your core tight. But, it was rather difficult when something, or rather someone, was far more distracting.

That was another thing about Chanyeol that you despised. When you first found out he was going to be your trainer, your immediate thought was ‘hell no’. You were hesitant to have a male trainer to begin with, but this one? He was fine as all hell. Too fine. And with that smirk he gave you when you first refused his help—the one he still gave you, mind you—you knew he was going to be a problem.

Matters were only made worse when you actually trained with him. During your sessions, he was nothing but professional. His goal was to help you through your workouts and he did. His large hands would skim over your body as he fixed your posture, or added pressure against your legs so that you knew where to put your weight. His voice was deep and he would use it to encourage and praise you. There was never any teasing or animosity while you trained. His voice would sink into your brain, scramble your thoughts and leave your body boiling. Especially when he’d hit you with a ‘good girl’ or ‘just like that. Perfect’.

He had to know what he was doing.

It was near the end of your session, you had one last work out to do.

“Save the best for last,” Chanyeol said as he took you to a bizarre looking machine.

“And what the hell is this thing?” You asked with a lifted eyebrow.

“It’s called a hip abductor,” he explained to you like he thought you were dumb.

You ignored his tone. “How’re you supposed to use it?”

“Sit on it and I’ll show you.”

You brushed off the innuendo, and prayed he didn’t catch the heat on your face. Instead, you bumped the machine with your shoe, warily taking it in. You were exhausted, and didn’t want to do another set of nothing.

“Why don’t you demonstrate for me?” You suggested.

Chanyeol lifted an eyebrow and you shrugged in response. “What? I’ve never seen you work out before. How do I know you’re qualified to train me?”

He barked a laugh at that, knowing you’re bullshitting now. “I imagine your glutes are enough proof of my teaching abilities.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “And why are you looking at my glutes?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just making sure I’m doing my job.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and hummed, unable to think of a good comeback. Instead, you nudged your chin towards this ‘hip abductor’.

“I know what you’re doing,” he said. Despite his words, he didn’t call you out. You watched as he plopped onto the machine with a sigh. You couldn’t help but grin victoriously, eager to see the man at work.

He adjusted the weight, settled into the seat, and then pushed his thighs against the pads, spreading his legs out wide before bringing them back in. He began explaining what he was doing, what muscles he was working, and the proper way to move, but you could barely hear a word over the way his thick thighs flexed, the muscle underneath stretching the skin.

You realized then that your roles were reversed, and a brilliant idea popped into your head. He was always teasing you during your sessions, and now was your turn to have some fun and return the favor.

You took a couple steps closer to him, studying him more, like you were invested in getting everything right. Then you ran your fingers down his arm and he faltered for a second.

“Am I supposed to hold on to the seat like that?”

You didn’t miss the way his grip tightened, his knuckles whitening.

“Yeah,” he said between clenched teeth.

He pushed his legs out again, and you’re quick to fill the new space, forcing him to keep them open.

Your name left his mouth in a warning. That only made your grin grow wider.

He glared up at you. “What are you doing?”

“Testing to see how long you can hold this position.”

He said your name again, but you interrupted him before he could finish. “You always push me. Why don’t I test your limits for once?”

Something ignited in his eyes and the lights ahead shown in them hauntingly. “Who says you don’t already do?”

“What?” You asked, startled by how gently the words left his full lips.

He didn’t repeat himself, but he appeared to give into your challenge. He sunk more into his seat, eyes never left yours as he held the position, too competitive for his own good. Though it worked in your favor.

You’re not sure how much time passed, but it felt like hours of you standing between his legs, both never looking away from the other.

Finally, you decided it was time to up the ante. Sweat had started to gather on his forehead and neck, but most importantly, a slight tremor had started in his legs.

“What’s wrong?” You asked with a fake pout. “Can’t hold it anymore?”

“I’m chilling,” he replied back, but you heard the strain in his voice.

“Is that so?” You grinned again and rested the palm of your hands above his knees on either side of you. “You’re shaking.”

You took your time scaling his body before meeting his eyes again. He was holding his breath, but something in his expression was begging you to continue.

So, you did.

Slowly, you dragged your hands further up his legs, remembering all the times he had done the same. Although he was always professional about it. He only touched you when he had to. There was nothing professional about your touch. All the sexual frustration you’ve felt because of this man had seemed to bubble over and took control of your limbs. In this moment, you wanted him to understand what he did to you, wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine.

His eyes fluttered as you dragged his shorts up with your wrists, wanting to feel his warm skin.

You quickly glanced around the gym, noticing you were the only ones left, and that made you even more bold. Nearly at his hips, you went to move your hands to his crotch.

Chanyeol was fast. Before you knew what happened, he had snatched your wrists with one hand, putting a halt to your little game and causing you to gasp in surprise.

Your ministrations had you bent over him, so your faces were only an inch or two apart. He leaned forward, brushing his nose against yours, the hair on his forehead tickled your own.

“You’re playing with fire here,” he warned, voice a steady grumble against your lips. When he pulled back to take in your expression, you saw the burning inferno ready to wreak havoc in his gaze. You knew that if he were to let go of those flames, it would burn away all pretenses, all politeness, and rules.

And you wanted that. You wanted his fire to consume you, wanted his desire to engulf and burn and hurt.

There was a pause as you both study each other, waiting to see who would break first. You found your arms shaking in his grip, not with the usual soreness you’d usually be shaking with at this time of your appointment. It was adrenaline, your own desire raised to meet his.

Of course, he felt it too. “How long have you wanted me, Sweetheart?”  He sounded deceitfully sweet, and it made your sore legs weak. He gathered that much, so he gathered you. Large hands went to your waist, easily lifting you up so that you were now straddling him. With you on his lap, he could finally close his legs, and he did so with a relieved huff. A mocking laugh left your mouth, but he put an end to it by pushing you down so that you were seated fully on him—right on his bulge.

“Oh!” You startled. You blinked up at him innocently before throwing back at him, “how long have you wanted me?”

He hummed thoughtfully, running his hands up your thighs to hold your hips. He pressed his lips to your ear, “from the moment I first saw you.”

You shivered at both his confession and his warm breath on your skin. It took everything in you not to roll your hips into him, the pressure of him just as much a tease as his expression and words and touch.

“That being said,” he started, and you already knew you weren’t going to like what he was about to say. “You have a workout to finish.”

“I can think of a few alternatives that are just as effective,” you said, giving into the temptation to gently grind against him.

He bit his lip, holding back a moan as he forced you to stop with his hands on your hips. His attention fell to your chest hovering in front of his face. “You’re not getting out of this one. Nice try though.”

You groaned and straightened, slumping dejectedly. He chuckled before wrapping an arm around your waist, standing abruptly. You squealed, holding onto him as he turned around to sit you down onto the seat of the machine.

“Chanyeol,” you whined.

“Hey, I let you stall, didn’t I?”

“I mean yeah, but we were in the middle of something.”

“I tell you what. Finish this set and I’ll reward you.”

“Reward me how?” You questioned skeptically. His idea of a reward usually benefited him more than you.

As an answer, he stuck out his tongue, wagging it quickly at you. Your eyes widened in shock, scandalized. But the burning in your abdomen and the way your legs pressed together was a dead giveaway to how enticing a reward that was.

“Fine,” you grumbled, adjusting the weight and starting doing your reps.

Chanyeol’s loud laugh echoed throughout the building at your eagerness.

“If I knew that was all the encouragement you needed, I would’ve incorporated it sooner.”

“Shut up,” you muttered.

“Make me.” He smirked.

“Oh, I will be as soon as I get that reward you promised.”

When you left the gym some time later, you couldn’t help but to think maybe your trainer wasn’t that bad afterall.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Invulnerable Poison Apple.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. This is his home, his roots, and he will cherish them always.

No matter how he may change.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

The Harveston roads stretch out for what seems like forever. Dirt paths uninterrupted by the hustle and bustle of modern life.

It's just Epel and his beloved blastcycle set at a breakneck pace. Green grass below... Mother Nature has pushed through the melting snow at last, sounding the call of spring.

The crate secured to back of his bike is always lighter on the trip home than on the trip to the closest city. With the latest load dropped off, he’s free to fly back.

He loves this feeling—the rush of adrenaline, the wind weaving through his hair. It’s a taste of home, a slice of heaven he can get nowhere else.

Up ahead, his family’s farm comes into view. The outline of their orchard, flush with the buds of new life, is a familiar sight. What's new are the crops whose heads sprout up over the treetops: a giant peach, a pumpkin large enough to be a carriage, and more—all the result of magical modification.

He grins, revving up his engine and pushing forward. Faster, faster.

Then he breaks, skidding to a halt before their wooden front porch. The engine dies, leaving only the erratic pounding of his heart in the smoke and dust.

“I’m home!!” Epel announces, dismounting. He removes his helmet and places it on his blastcycle's seat. Wisps of lilac cling to his forehead, his fair skin colored with the blush of exhilaration.

Similar heads of hair—members of the Felmier family, dressed in casual clothes and fruit-picking gloves—dot the orchard. They meet his eyes and wave.

He counts them: his mom and his dad, his aunt and uncle. His cousin is too young to get their hands down and dirty yet, so they're inside with their grandparents.

So why is there one extra body amid the apple trees? One person, hunched over on a ladder, a shaking arm outstretched to pluck the fruit.

Not her. Please, not her.

Epel immediately bolts into the fields.

The tree leaves shudder and shift, branches swaying, as if they, too, are loved ones welcoming him back. The air is sweet and uplifting, like the faintest taste of a fizzy drink.

"Meemaw? Meemaw…!!" Epel hollers, racing over to her.

She finally has a grip on the apple, gives it a firm twist, and frees it from its branch. For one frightening moment, she wobbles, threatening to topple from high up. Epel arrives just in time, grabbing onto her ladder to steady it.

He heaves a sigh.

"I told ya to try ‘n not overexert yourself…!” Epel scolds her. His hometown’s dialect slips out, smooth as butter and natural sounding to their ears. “You’re gettin’ to that age where doing physical labor ain’t the easiest. At least leave the heavy liftin’ to me ‘n the others!”

“These apples aren’t goin’ to pick themselves!!” Marja grumbles. “Would you rather trade jobs and let me be the one to run deliveries? You wanna be the one to let this old lady on the loose?”

He bites his lower lip. “No, but… I can take some of yer tasks to lighten yer workload. Please, let me.”

His grandma slowly climbs down the ladder. (Epel observes her dissent carefully and maintains his grip on her stairway.) She’s delicate, with rounded, soft features—but he knows she is anything but demure, especially upset.

When Marja lands next to him, he notices her height right away. He had always been just a bit taller than her—“My growin’ little man,” she’d say, giving him a pat on the head—but his grandma seems to have shrunken in the wash.

Marja prods him in the chest, and though she has more strength than one might give her credit for, his muscles are taut and hold their ground. He’s taller, stronger.

The same physique as a Savanaclaw student.

“Don’t get cocky with me just because you’ve hit a growth spurt ‘n yer transferrin’ to a rough ‘b tough new dorm! I’m a Felmier too.” She shoves the freshly picked apple at her grandson’s face. “Ya fell from our family tree, so you ain’t the only one who’s hardy ‘round here. Don’t worry about me so much!”

“I can’t help it, meemaw,” Epel protests. “We’re gettin’ busier and busier and it’s hard to keep up with the pace.”

“Business is boomin’. I don’t see what you’re yappin’ about!”

“Last thing I want’s for you to be shipped off to the nearest hospital cuz you hurt yourself on our produce.”

“Hush now!! I’lll be fine,” she insists with a broad smile. “I’ve got you and everyone else to count on, so I know I’m in good hands.”

Marja drops the apple into a waiting wicker basket at her feet. It lands atop a pile like a ruby laid in the center of a crown. She bends over and picks up her haul with a grunt and starts waddling towards their house.

Epel remains by her side, matching her walk with a few long strides. He may as well be helping her cross the street, but he stays at a considerable distance. Enough to be polite, but still close enough to swoop in if she takes an unceremonious fall.

“‘Sides, I work cuz I want to, not that I have to,” Marja tuts, clambering up the porch steps. Epel offers her his muscular arm, but she refuses it.

“Gotta keep these weary bones active! And… gotta do my best to support ya where I can.”

“You’ve always done that for us, meemaw.”

All that and more.

She laughs. “Yer not the little boy that needs a scoldin’ for whooping the older kids’ tuchuses anymore. Yer a man now, Epel—but even men ain’t islands. Doesn’t matter how many fights ya win by yerself, ‘s nice to have people to fall back on.”

The front door swings open. Marja shuffles inside, followed by her grandson.

“I understand what yer sayin’. Really, I do. Still, nothin’s gonna stop me from givin’ ya lip. ‘S in our blood,” Epel jokes, knocking at his temples. “Stubbornness runs in the family. I must get it from you.”

“You’re gettin’ real cheeky with me today,” Marja chuckles, setting her basket down on a counter. “I know, how about a good ol’ apple pie with all the fixings? That oughta fill yer belly and fix up yer sass.”

Epel responds with a toothy grin. “Nothin’ hits the spot like your home cooking, meemaw.”

Her eyes twinkle warmly. “Darn right.”

[impishcupid]

hey guys, whereas it’s totally ok to look into a subculture based off a popular character, I am begging spider punk fans to be so cool about it. I haven’t seen anything bad yet but man do I feel like a snake protecting its egg

If you go into the Punk subculture, please make sure you do FULL research on what you’re going into! I’m not saying don’t go into it, but please research to make sure it’s something you want to dip your toes into. And please god don’t just flood the Punk scene with bullshit tiktok “punks do xyz because it’s PUNK” like what happened with Witchcraft. This may sound a lil rude but bear with me

There IS criteria to being a Punk. This isn’t one of those things where you can change your clothes and claim, like VSCO or Scene! If you like punk style clothes, great! There are many other subcultures with similar styles! However Punk is, in essence, a political movement/statement!

The criteria for being a Punk are:

-Open Mindedness, meaning no phobias or ists. Punks are here to serve and uplift our community, not push us back. Gender, sexuality, race, none of that shit matters in the Punk community, unless someone’s being oppressed.

-Be kind. Not every punk can afford to buy a battle vest, not every punk can make their own. Punk is made from what you have available. I make my own patches because I can’t afford to buy them, but my Father would buy his patches because he didn’t have the time to make them. It’s not punk rock to make fun of someone because of what they do or don’t have.

-Punch Nazis. You don’t have to do it physically, not ever punk wants a charge. But we do not, and will not, ever side with Nazis.

-Fuck the Facists. Unfortunately we all have to live in a form of society and capitalism, there’s no escape. But a punk hates a Facist.

Basically Punks rely on the basis of “Every person is entitled to life, freedom, love and safety.” Sometimes things can’t always be so love and light, you don’t have to be a protesting rebel to be a punk, but in this subculture there are protesting rebel activists, and those are your family in this community.

Punk isn’t dead and with every surge of new baby punks and big stompies on the ground, we get closer to stopping racism, facism, and plain ol oppression, but it’s important we are all moving toward the same goal!

[hie-iss]

No one like him

Jimin is one of a kind it has to be said.

This boy will go places beyond the BTS group and fame. His humility, amazing work ethic, respect, love, and compassion for other beings will carry him to great heights.

To army and some Jikookers who always want to portray him as the weak damsel in distress, if what he has achieved over the past 10 years of his carrier with all the set backs on the roads was not enough to open your eyes, I hope this military service ordeal will finally let you see the light.

Take the time and learn to know Jimin, put aside the fanfics depictions of him, the assigned roles bighit gave each member and your own fantasies and simply learn to know Park Jimin the man.

Remove your glass tainted with bias and then it would not come as a surprise to you that

He had only 6 months of training, was not given vocal lessons by the agency, yet landed two of the most important roles in the group

The fandom always believed that out of all the members he would be the one to suffer the most through chapter 2 yet he ended up being the 1st to have a historical #1 BB100 with no major push from the compagny and the only one to bag 2 of the biggest luxury houses on the planet.

A lot of people assumed that JK and him opted for the military buddy system because Jimin needed JK support more than the other way around and were worried of how Jimin would manage in the military. Yet he is the one who came 1st after training.

Learn to know Park Jimin so that events like those mentioned above will no longer come as a surprise to you.

The world we live in tends to hype and give credit to those who talk too much even if deep down they don't pull through. If that is what you expect of Jimin then it is clear that you will always misundertand him.

He rather let his actions speak for him and even when he ends up coming out at the top guess what he does? He uplifts others who did not make it instead of having the focus be on his success.

If you were to read the letter he wrote out of ms in the void you would think that JK and other members had performed better than him. But knowing JM the moment I saw the letter he wrote to us I knew the letter was also meant for JK. To me it was a way to console him. To tell him you did well even if you did not come first. So I knew that the story about JK being first and JM second had to be false. And not even a day later I was proven right.

This time Jimin dad pulled through with the "receipt" but it is not everytime that we will be able to have the backstories of what really happened ( specially when bighit and their twisted agenda is involved). So take the time and learn to understand Jimin when he speaks to us.

While the boys are in the MS take the time to go through old content and open your mind to get to know each one of them for who they really are to the extent that it is possible of course.

Anyway I am mostly neutral to the military enlistment ordeal but of course as a Jimin fan I am happy that he is doing well so far.

[cypionate60mg]

i'm a new follower to your blog, i never really liked the idea of forcefem/forcemasc before because it upset me the idea of being "forced" into transition instead of doing it by my own will, and while some of your posts do scratch that feeling of discomfort, what i get from the majority of them is not the feeling of being forced against my will, but of being motivated to seek the transition i already want, and having my identity and desires recognized and uplifted.

im currently closeted and therefore pre-transition/pre-T and i always get myself in doubt and anxious when i consider the idea of transition, worried ill regret the changes or regret going by this path. your posts don't really make me horny but are very good in easing my anxiety and making me believe i should do what i want and im right in doing so. its hard to feel this feeling but it makes me proud of wishing to become a man and i hope i can do so someday

I really only used the term because I knew it already existed. If I were to give my ouvre a name, it'd probably be something more along the lines of 'coercemasc'. My personal touch is lighter than others, but more manipulative, honestly. And I like that approach because it's important to consider what forces in our life are similarly invisible but powerful. Forces that push us to stay closeted and the like.

Sit with the discomfort of knowing what you want but not necessarily having it yet. Know that the feeling can be temporary if you work through it. And the possibility of regret is not something to be feared, it's just a symptom of your adjustment to the present moment.

It's also worth noting that you can both already be a man and want to become a man. Simultaneously. It probably makes more sense if we phrase it as this way: you are already yourself, and in the process of living, you continue becoming yourself. That can be true for anybody.

[eveandphyche]

Monster (2023) or How we fail our children

Yesterday I watched "Monster" from 2023 which was such a well made film, not only in the sense of how it makes you care for each and every character but keeps you on your toes almost through the entire movie.

To me the movie struck a cord bc it seems like a warning. A warning to all of us, or maybe a reminder. To me the movie showed in multiple ways how the adults in the lives of children can greatly impact, detore and fail a child's life.

I'd first talk about Minato's mom. She's a very hard-working single mother, that tries everything to support her son, both emotionally and socially, through standing up and fighting for her son to get justice. It was amazing to see how she reacted calmly and understanding when Minato fumbled his room. She knew it was an outlet for him, not a provocation. So I think his mother is a heart-warming charcater whom we've seen expresses great support and concern for Minato, as a mother should. But what she, in my opinion, fails to do is to listen to Minato more. She says to him a couple of times how he "should grow up, have a family, have children." and he says: " I can' t be like father. (argo I cannot have a wife or children in the common way bc he himself understands that he does not like women, or maybe doesn't want a family like that or some other reasons, it is open for interpretation) And so these words we are all too familiar with- living our lives as one would say as everybody else does. Which for queer kids, folks, people is somewhat of a nuance.

Then we have Hori, the teacher, which we all see after, at his pov, that he takes care of children, teases them and helps them. He IS a good teacher, bc he is a good person, but he too fails Minato and Yori. He says " You are not man enough, not manly enough." very casually to then again tease, but that in itself drives Yori away. Yori says that to Minato when Minato suggests that Yori can confide in Hori for help. But Yori says :"He'd just say I am not man enough." And this is how we alianate children. To me is the weirdest thing ever, to push a child, a boy to be " a man" when they are a child first and foremost.

We have Yori's father of course which I would rather not speak of.

We have the principle, which in my opinion is so flawed, yet so understamding towards Minato. She's the one after all uplifts him and says that everybody deserves and can have happiness in their life. She essentially says: "You're not as damned and lost as you think you are."

At the end Minato and Yori find in each other the understanding that's been missing from their lives for so long, and they allow themselves to be children. Minato allows Yori to be "femenine" and he expresses to him: "You were always normal." He accepts him completely for who he is.

All of this leads me to belive that we as adults push them into a binary, we push them into roles, and we isolate them from themselves and us. Of course we all can agree that it is a queer movie through and through. But I think it also showcases in so many different ways, how adults tend to miscommunicate or repeat bad rethoric to them, making them feel alone and with no one to talk to besides each other.

[kastlenetwork]

Hi! So I'm pretty new to the kastle fandom and wanted to know if there are any like- classic fics or interviews or memorable moments in panels and cons (with the actors) that I should know about? I know about the interviews that are on the kastle wikifandom page but only because I've read them.

helloooo! welcome to the family! it's been quite quiet lately, but frank and karen are always in our hearts lolol and every now and then there's a little resurgence, so that's nice. umm first up interviews. there's a lot of little quotes here and there that were a big deal. we didn't get many interviews of the two of them together, if i remember correctly. i think two comic cons were pretty exciting.

here are some interviews from comic con 2017 yup

this is a cute clip from last year, where deborah talked about how jon's intense but really uplifted her. and that they want to work together again.

(i'm looking at kastle's wikifandom and, really, the big interview quotes all seem to be there.)

“ … just in terms of whether this is Jon’s story to tell or my story to tell, you just want to kind of be respectful of everybody’s contributions. Jon and I have certainly felt that there is room for a romantic story in there. And there were certainly scenes where we took it farther in some takes than we did in other takes. We’ll have to sort of wait and see what the editors chose, and how far they decided to push it. But we as actors allowed for that possibility.” -deb cinemablend

deborah and jon were both supporters, but deborah was always including frank into karen's romantic potentials:

“But all of the romance I’ve gotten to play, with any of the characters in the series, whether that’s Frank or Matt, they all come from a need. From a lonely person, a person who doubts whether she is deserving of love.” -deb collider

**

“I like that Karen can say, ‘How far down this road of violence of revenge do you go before you’re ripped apart?’ and he can look at her and go, ‘I’m already ripped apart. And you are, too.‘” -deb 92.1 bobfm

**

“When professor [Jeph] Loeb [Marvel TV head] told me we were gonna do a series on The Punisher,” Bernthal continued, “first thing i asked him is would I have the pleasure and the honor to work again with one of the most honest, the most kind, and the most talented actors I’ve ever had the privilege to work with.” --jon ew

oh! karen page being announced for the punisher. very cute.

"i just want to say, you guys don't love him as much as i do" was very exciting when it happened lmaoooo. the hope for kastle was high.

*****

i'll be honest up front and say, i tend to forget a lot of stuff? so, basically, i can read a fic and then read it again months later and it's like a brand new experience. which is both a blessing and a curse. so, i basically just zoomed through my bookmarks to try and find some things?? 😩😩

(i'm scanning my bookmarks and.............a lot of them are basically just smutfdjklgsdfjglkdfjglkdfjg)

ballads for a dead man ❤❤ [three parts, unfinished] Safe up in the mountains with Frank following a bloody showdown in Hell's Kitchen, Karen wonders just how much more complicated things between them can get. She's about to find out.

these heavy words, your open heart 😘😘 (this was a kastlechristmas gift to me from @carry-the-sky 😊❤) “You told me once that I was honest. That I don’t lie to you. But the hospital—you asked me to start over, and I said I didn’t want that.” Karen sucks in a breath. Frank’s eyes are still on her, wide and bright. It’s the most vulnerable she’s ever seen him look. “I lied,” he says.

The Reporter  [kinda iconic ❤👀] Force Recon missions keep Marines isolated, entrenched for long periods in covert locations. They rarely received visitors, and in Frank’s long experience, the visitors were almost never civilians, let alone gorgeous blondes with mile long legs and sky blue eyes. Frank was trying not to stare. They all were. Well, everyone except Bill, who’s face had just split into a shit-eating grin.

The Flower Cam [oh god, the flower cam! i just remembered!! ❤] It had been a long time since there had actually been any flowers in the window. She must have trashed the white roses after his latest bullshit at the hospital with Madani and the kid. Good. Good for her. She should forget about him. But still… Frank couldn’t help but check every once in a while.

actually just, everything in their ao3. i have all this bookmarked.

(..................god, my bookmarks are really all smut. this says a lot about me.)

Castle’s Auto Shop ❤❤ yes. yep. Karen Page is in need of a car mechanic. Castle’s Auto Body Shop seems a reasonable choice. There’s just one problem: This little auto shop has become a well-known spot where less than honorable people to go get their car fixed…only to have justice find them at the next stop light. Having her brother’s truck fixed there means Karen will have to own up to a few secrets in her past.

Blood and Bone ❤❤❤! this is the fic that has seared itself into my brain. i've never once forgotten this. iconic. Frank Castle is a boxer at the top of his game. Laconic and anti-social, he has a reputation for being an incredibly-tough interview. Karen Page is a sports reporter trying to prove herself in a male-dominated field. She's done playing games--trying to be the "Cool Girl" who caters to the male fantasy--and now she's on a mission to take no shit. "For a while, the fact that an interview with Castle lasting longer than 5 minutes even existed was big news. Splashed all over the message boards—circulated among boxing and Castle fans alike. The very concept that someone actually got the man to sit down for more than a breath of time and give multiple-sentence answers to a question—it was huge. Massive. It was the only thing Castle fans could talk about. Until three months later, when Frank Castle disappeared. Then that was the news. It was the only news."

this is hard lmaoo how ludicrious. i have about seven collections from some of our events, as well. there's loads of good stuff in there:

kastlesmutweek 2018

kastlesmutweek 2019

kastlechristmas 2018

kastlechristmas 2019

kastlechristmas 2020

kastlechristmas 2021

kastlechristmas parent collection

[darsynia]

Um if it sounds fun to you could you write a reader (character of your choice but I think Tony works for this, maybe Stephen or Steve) where reader is a professional and has been so focused on work they don’t feel sexy or desirable anymore? New or established I guess but fluffy/cheeky and uplifting. Only if it inspires you, LOVE YOUR WRITING!

-🤓

This was fun as hell, and thank you! I chose Tony Stark/F!Reader.

Summary: Tony wakes you up in the early morning after staying up working on his cars. He knows your job is stressing you out, and if he can't make things better at work, he can at least make you associate certain work things with him…

Warnings: Minors DNI! Oral sex (f receiving) and PiV sex.

Length: 2,288

Tags (if you'd like to be tagged for Tony posts or other characters please let me know!): @starryeyes2000 @raith-way @fyreball66 @themaradaniels @starksbf @chickensarentcheap @tiny-anne

Liquidity (Or, Well Deserved)

You’re dreaming, and it’s a really good one. In the dream, you’re on your stomach draped over a cloud, and a warm, loving hand is stroking your back. The hand slides up into your hair to scrape fingernails along your scalp before moving back along your neck and over your shoulder blades, pushing your wide-necked nightgown out of the way.

The realism of the dream is wonderful. You can even feel the way the front of your nightgown presses against your nipples in tension as the man drags the fabric down and out of the way. He starts dropping kisses along your spine, and you shiver, mmm-ing in your sleep at the tingling way his comfort is turning erotic.

The dream-cloud shakes a little, and you can picture the whole scene. You are sleeping in Tony's bed when he comes up grease-stained and horny after taking advantage of your late hours at work. Once he’s scrubbed his hands, he gives up on the shower, hoping you’ll join him if he can manage to be persuasive enough. 

That thought sends half-asleep you into a spiral of dirty thoughts, but you aren’t quite sure if you’re actually dreaming or if the confident, sensual kisses on your back are real. Tony’s usually not quiet-- but he can be, if there’s motivation enough.

The word ‘motivation’ reminds you of everything that’s stressed you out at work lately. It derails the heated scrape of beard hair that trail after each open-mouthed kiss, and, fuck, what time is it? It’s not Friday, is it? It’s Saturday, right? If it’s Friday, you’ll have to rush to--

“You just tensed up,” Tony whispers, and he’s right, you did.

“I’m sorry, I was up in my own head again,” you groan, sliding your knees up underneath you in a vain attempt to hide your disappointment. You’re a compact package of overworked misery. “It’s Saturday, right? My boss would totally invent a time machine just for the glee of demanding an extra workday.”

“If I wasn’t pretty sure you’d roll off the bed in frustration at my inability to shut up about it, I’d order you to quit your job. Again,” Tony says, grabbing a handful of your nightgown and throwing himself onto the mattress beside you. 

With him anchoring you, you can’t roll over or move away, and he knows it. Tony moves his head near to where yours is, reaching over with his free hand to move your hair out of the way so he can see your face. 

“It would serve you right if I rolled off anyway,” you tease.

“Do it. I’ve always wanted to rip this thing off of you,” he grins.

“Tony!” you groan in frustration, but suddenly he’s pulling you over on top of him. He’s hot as a furnace, clearly hard, and the clock on the nightstand reads 4 AM. “Don’t,” you whisper, suddenly shy. “I didn’t have time to do anything but fall into bed. No shower, no teeth, and the bags under my eyes--”

He stops you with a kiss that’s filthy and enthusiastic, sliding his big hand up to the back of your head to hold you steady as he symbolically chases all of your objections away with swipes of his tongue against yours. “Good,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. “Be dirty with me. I probably got grease swipes on your back, I was too impatient.”

That word sends you into another anxiety spiral, no matter how hard you try to fight against it. Tony’s impatient because it’s been days. The project at work isn’t finished, and you have a feeling you’ll get a call sometime today from your boss promising a bonus that won’t actually materialize if you pop into the office for a few hours.

“There you go again. Hon, if you can fuss about work, I’m clearly not on my A game,” Tony says from beneath you. In a move that takes your breath away and coincidentally presses his barely-clothed cock right where you want it, he expertly reverses your positions. You end up on your back with your nightgown hopelessly twisted up out of the way, and Tony’s sliding down.

You want that, but fuck… Tony Stark may be your boyfriend now, but before that he was known for his women, clean women, women who spent their whole lives hoping that he might look sideways at--

Tony interrupts your spiraling thoughts by yanking you toward the foot of the bed, and you lift your head to see that he’s actually dry humping the mattress as he grins up toward you, barely visible in the dim light of his bedroom. Every line of his body is painted with desire, desire for you, and as soon as he sees that you’re watching, he slides his bent knuckle along your core. Just to ensure you’re well and truly wrecked, he pulls his hand back to lick it.

“You’re going to relax, and if you don’t, I’m going to make you associate work stress with this,” Tony says, hooking your knees in his hands and pulling you down just within reach. He leans his head down to kiss you right above your mound, nuzzling you with his nose as though that soft part of your body makes him wild with desire. Hell, Tony doesn’t seem to enjoy faking things much, so maybe it does.

While you’re reckoning with that, Tony settles in, groaning low and deep as he caresses you on the way to resting his hand on your stomach. There’s something about being known like that; he has to anchor you, you’re always like a wildcat when he tastes you.

Does he know that the warmth and pressure of his possessive hand on you while he takes you apart is half the reason you’re so responsive?

“Fuck,” Tony says. “One sec.” He lifts up and you watch as he tears his sweatpants off, unable to resist pumping himself once as he glares at you as though you’re completely to blame. “Waistband was going to chafe, and I need to be able to focus,” he says.

You laugh and take the opportunity to pull off your nightgown, too. Tony is nothing if not controlled chaos in bed. His hands are usually everywhere; he’s always swearing and praising under his breath, hips always moving, but sure, his waistband will derail him.

“Oh, that’s it,” he says, crawling up to look sternly down at you with one hand on either side of your head. “You’re going to tell me your morning routine while I do this. If you stop talking, I’ll stop.”

“Tony, I do not want to mix--”

His mouth takes yours, one hand cupping your face tenderly even as he nips your bottom lip and soothes it with his tongue. “Neither do I. You started this, I’m going to finish it.”

With that he drags his cock right against you, following that with beard hair on your nipple to make you cry out from the overstimulation and smack him.

“Well?”

“Oh my god, it’s not like you’ll get up and walk away if I don’t--”

Tony interrupts you by reaching down to jack himself, his knuckles brushing against your heated core incidentally, nowhere near enough.

“Goddamnit Tony!”

“That’s my girl,” he purrs. “Go on.” Another hand movement, and you’re desperate.

You grab two handfuls of sheet to anchor yourself and start speaking, using an annoyed, disapproving tone. “I walk in and say hi to whoever is working reception.”

Tony swirls his tongue to soothe your nipple and runs his nose along your stomach on his way back down. There’s no time to be self conscious, because he’ll just make you watch him instead, probably while teasing you with useless, sexy touching.

“I head upstairs, usually on the stairs, because you never know who will be lurking near the elevators,” you continue, maintaining your tone of disinterest right till you reach the word ‘elevators,’ because that’s when Tony spreads you with both thumbs. “Oh my God, if you make me think about this while I have a meeting with my boss, I’ll have to quit my job!” you whine, hating the way he just stops.

“They’d have to hire three people to replace you,” Tony says, his lips brushing the thin skin of your inner thigh. “I’m sure I could come up with something for you to do.”

“Just don’t hire three women to do this,” you mutter under your breath. 

Tony says your name, and you bite your lip and look at him. As soon as you do, he slides two fingers inside you, slowly and gently, his gaze intense. It’s an effort to keep yours open, it feels so good. Then, because he’s making a point, he pulls back out and strokes his cock, using your arousal as lubrication.

“Keep going, love.”

The ‘love’ just slays you. The man is inexorable in everything, and the promise of a mind-blowing but agonizing orgasm (not to mention an exciting life together) forces you to capitulate, begrudgingly.

“I sit down at my desk,” you whisper, eyes caught by the way the uneven shadows cast by the dim lamps heighten Tony’s sensuality as he allows himself one last swirl of his fist. “I turn on my-- ahhh, my computer,” you whimper at the first swipe of Tony’s tongue. The next minutes are a fight for coherence as you rock your hips against the steady pressure of his hand holding you still, gasping out mostly nonsense syllables that barely resemble your log-in tasks. Tony clearly relishes what he’s doing, drawing reward words with the tip of his tongue after each completed sentence.

Your orgasm takes both of you by surprise in the most delightful way; one second you’re swearing because Tony’s challenged you to remember all the headings in your most-used Excel spreadsheet, the next second he’s pulling his glorious fingers out of you and lifting his head, tutting at your inability to focus. You’re so frustrated that you put all your strength into bucking your hips up to chase him, and for once, you overcome Tony’s strength. His hand slips on your stomach, sliding up to crash into your breast, and he falls face-forward onto you.

His throaty chuckle and opportunistic nipple tweak send you, and as you shudder and moan, Tony recovers enough to thrust in.

“Oh fuck, that’s--” he gasps, hand desperately grabbing for yours. You wrap your legs around him and pull him down for an open-mouthed, gasping kiss that’s more about sharing breath than anything else. Tony’s hand is bigger than yours, and his finger-threaded grip is just this side of painful, but he’s driving into you like his life depends on it, anchored by the places you’re joined. It’s emotional, sexy, and affirming as hell.

Your orgasm lengthens, spurred into extra ecstasy with Tony’s fervor. Once you’re in that post-bliss intensity, the final column header he’d been demanding comes to you, even as Tony gives up trying to kiss you and just presses his forehead onto the pillow. He’s swearing again, praising the friction, the feel of your smooth legs against his sides, and a number of things you’d blush to even think to yourself in the privacy of your own mind.

“Tony, I remembered the last column,” you whisper against his ear, capturing the lobe in your lips. His hips stutter against you, and you scrape him with your teeth gently before he groans and moves in for a greedy kiss. You lose focus for a few heady seconds, but you can tell Tony’s close, so you pull back. “The column,” you remind him. “Aren’t you going to punish me for stopping?”

Tony lets go of your hand so he can grab your hips, holding on with an iron grip. He’s glaring at you, looking joyful but frustrated.

“I deserve this, don’t I?” he groans, but manages to hold still inside you. “Well?”

You arch your back and run your hands along the corded muscles of his arms, letting out a sigh that you know for a fact drives him crazy. When you lift your head again, he’s trembling against you, so you take pity on him and make direct eye contact. Tightening your inner muscles around his cock, you say a single word on a breathy sigh, sliding your fingers around your nipple just to enhance the effect.

“Liquidity.”

“Oh, I’ll give you liquidity,” he growls at you, grinning.

“Are you saying you’ll show me your assets, Mr. Stark?” you blink up at him innocently, holding completely still but for another pulsing squeeze of your inner walls. 

Ever since you started dating, Tony’s joked about Accountant/client roleplay, and even though you knew he wasn’t serious, you’ve always teased that you couldn’t possibly. Now you’ve turned the tables on him, and the litany of swear words Tony lets out in utter amazed, erotic frustration is only balanced by the power of his renewed thrusts. He basically drives your body back up the bed, and it’s so fantastic you feel another peak rising. Tony does too, and he slips a hand between you, capturing your lips and fucking you with cock, fingers, and tongue into a devastating orgasm that leaves you both breathless.

When Tony finally rolls off of you onto the bed, reaching to twine your fingers together in silent satiation, you can’t stop smiling.

“You asshole, you woke me up at four o’clock in the morning after I worked all day and I’m not even mad at you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m the one in trouble here,” he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“Oh?”

“I have an appointment with my financial advisor today.”

Note: I'll be honest, after 20+ years of marriage I often forget about protection, because it's just not part of my life anymore. Definitely protect yourself and protect your partner, but also please forgive me for letting that slip my mind. It's important, but this is also fantasy.

[skyyguy]

“i think it’s about time you called it a night, baby.”

For the pretty little ponies au pleaseeee !!!

Prompt

He wasn't used to waking up alone, not anymore. Sure, they had the odd night here and there where Gale couldn't handle the feel of the mattress shifting or getting up the stairs, but John was always on the cot in the same room. So, while he technically was waking up alone, because he was alone in bed, he could look over and see Gale, which meant he absolutely wasn't alone. Tonight, though, tonight he was actually alone. John pushed himself onto all fours and shook his head, clearing the last bit of sleep from his brain before sliding his way off the bed and pulling on his pj pants, yawning and rubbing his chin before setting off for the living room.

"Gale, honey, what are you doing?" John asked when he noticed Gale still hunched over the laptop, books open on the kitchen table. Gale blinked up at him, a distant look in his eyes fading away. He'd been extremely focused, John realized as he watched Gale glance around him, as if confused. While seeing Gale able to focus that intensly on something was uplifting, John was still worried about the fact it was nearly 4 am and Gale hadn't slept at all, if the fact he was still in his jeans and western shirt said anything.

"Research," Gale replied, voice rougher than usual, speaking to his lack of any sort of self-care, including something as simple as drinking something.

"Love, you've been at it for 6 hours, I thought you were going to come to bed ages ago," John said softly, sliding into the chair beside Gale's wheelchair and taking his hand in his own.

"I… Wasn't paying attention…" Gale admitted, blinking at the clock, looking dazed still. John frowned, wondering if Gale had actually been focusing on his research, or if something else was going on.

"Okay," John muttered softly, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek, "but I think it’s about time you called it a night, baby," he said gently, rubbing Gale's knuckles with his thumb. Gale looked at their hands for a long few seconds before nodding stiffly.

"Ya, I guess," he agreed, almost reluctantly. John frowned deeper, bringing Gale's hand to his lips and kissing the back of it.

"Do you want to sleep down here tonight, sweetheart?" John asked, wondering if it wouldn't be better in case anything happened.

"Just wanna sleep with you."

"Of course, my heart, of course, never gonna leave you unless you want me to, 'kay?" John promised, relieved when Gale nodded, seeming to follow him better.

"'Kay," Gale agreed leaning his forehead against John's, smiling when John rubbed their noses together.

"A'ight, sweets, let's get you to bed before you spend another 6 hours on research," John mused, slowly getting up, pulling his hand from Gale's, and switching the brakes on the chair to wheel Gale to the lift to take him to bed upstairs. Gale let his head lean back in the chair, closing his eyes and humming, not fighting John for once. John squeezed himself onto the wheelchair lift with his husband and ran his hand through Gale's hair, gently working out the tangles and knots, smiling as Gale groaned at the feeling, nails scratching at his scalp.

Gale was half asleep by the time they reached the bedroom and John wished he could just bundle him up and tuck him into bed, but he needed to go through the usual nighttime routine before he could get him completely settled. So, he nudged him awake with a soft apology, kissing his cheeks while he did so. Gale whined the entire time, but he let John do as he pleased nonetheless, and John was grateful for his cooperation, thrilled when he finally got Gale settled into the bed and the other snuggled into the blankets, practically purring happily. Rolling his eyes at his adorable husband, John slid into the bed as well, letting Gale snuggle into him and wrapping his arms around the smaller man, kissing his forehead.

"Sweet dreams, my heart."