#this is half written to myself tbh

[swordbird7]

Shout out to all of y’all who are happily or unhappily single for this upcoming Valentine’s Day! Society is gonna try to tell you that it’s wrong, or something to be sad about, but this is your reminder that you don’t need another person to love you to be loved/worthy of love! Special shout out to all of you aro and/or ace spec folks! Just because you don’t/don’t want to have someone to spend the day with doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy it! Chocolate is going to be cheap in the following days! Do something nice for yourself.

[quietlyblooms]

i'm gonna. i'm gonna!! i'm gonna eat my hands :(

[swiftsaltsweet]

Me: I'm going to start writing the 2nd arc of Two Knives. :) I hope I get a lot of this chapter done! Me: *blacks the fuck out* Me: *comes to* Oh god. Oh. What happened? What time is it? Where am I? Oh, right... I was going to write- Oh the google doc is open let's see Me: ...... Me: WHERE DID THESE 10,000 WORDS COME FROM ;A;

[aphelea]

i promise i'll write tiertice week fic at some point (probably. hopefully. maybe)

[elixandre]

turns out no matter the age tests can still stress someone out lmao

[inkandapex]

racing heart

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary : Y/N is determined to prove she’s got the skills to take on Lando’s karting challenge, but Lando’s protective instincts go into overdrive. Despite her insistence that she’s fine, Lando can’t help but fuss over every little detail, from her seatbelt to her speed, unable to hide his concern.

Words : 2.1k

Warnings : some swearing, small crash.

— (tbh I wrote this one half-asleep, not my favourite but here you guys go!)

As soon as Y/N watched Quadrant’s new video with Keegan Palmer, she was immediately determined to try the challenge herself. Almost without fail, she’d been pestering Lando to let her have a go. But ever the protective boyfriend, Lando wasn’t so easily convinced.

The four sat around the table, waiting for their lunch to arrive—Max and Lando deep in their own conversation, while Pietra and Y/N chatted away. It wasn’t until Pietra reached over to grab Max’s hand, catching his attention, that the table suddenly fell silent.

“Y/N has a question for you,” Pietra starts, a grin already spreading across her face.

“Oh, here we go,” Lando sighs, reaching for his glass to take a sip, already knowing exactly what’s coming.

“What?” Max asks, confusion written all over his face as he glances between his girlfriend, his friend, and Y/N—all of whom are wearing entirely different expressions.

Lando sets his glass down with a knowing look. “She’s about to try and get you on board with letting her do the karting challenge we did with Keegan.”

"That sounds sick actually—"

“Right?!” Y/N interrupts excitedly, eyes practically glowing with joy.

“No,” Lando says firmly, shaking his head.

“Mate, we’ve gone karting with Y/N before,” Max points out.

“Yeah, indoors—and those karts weren’t that fast,” Lando argues, trying to reason with him.

“Lan, please, it looks so fun,” Y/N pleads, leaning in.

“Baby, no—”

“Lando, you go over 200 miles per hour, and Y/N never says a word about it,” Pietra cuts in, backing her friend up without hesitation.

“That’s different, P… Max wouldn’t let you do it either,” Lando huffs, turning to Max for support.

“I would, actually.”

“Lando, please,” Y/N presses, eyes wide with excitement. “You and Max would be there to teach me! I’ll be safe, I promise. We can even—”

“—Fine! Fine, alright,” Lando finally caves, running a hand through his hair, already regretting his decision.

“We’re filming this, right?” Max smirks, barely holding back his laughter.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

At the same track where they did the last challenge, Max holds the camera, zooming in on his friends standing near the circuit. Both Y/N and Lando are dressed in fireproofs, helmets in hand. Lando gestures animatedly as he talks, the mic picking up his voice as he explains the racing lines and braking points to Y/N, who listens intently.

Max moves closer, camera still in hand, ready for a quick interview. “How you feelin’, Y/N?”

Y/N turns to the camera with a big grin, giving a small wave. “So excited.”

“Lando?” Max pans to his friend.

“I’m gonna shit myself”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Baby, you’re a walking hazard.”

“That’s true, actually.” Max briefly turns the camera on himself, giving a small nod of agreement.

“Guys—no, remember Silverstone last year?” Lando points accusingly. “Y/N showed up with her arm in a sling because she missed the bed while trying to jump onto it and landed straight on her shoulder.”

"That's different—"

“—Alright! So you already know what’s about to happen,” Max says, handing off the camera before stepping between his two friends, slinging an arm around each of them. “Lando’s gonna set a lap time, and Y/N will get a shot with different karts—one faster than the other to see if she can beat him.”

The camera zooms in on Lando’s face, his expression a mix of nerves and dread, clearly uncomfortable.

“Mate, you look ill.”

“I will be after this,” Lando chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood.

“She’ll be fine. C’mon, go ahead. We’ll be up there watching,” Max laughs, giving his friend a pat on the back. “I’ll make sure to give her tips as you go.”

"Oi, excuse me? Hold on a minute! Where's my kiss?" Lando pouts, feigning offense. "I can’t believe you’re not being sweeter to me after I agreed to do this."

Y/N halts, throwing her head back and laughing. "Sorry! Just really excited." She jogs back towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Have fun, be safe."

You could almost see Lando's body relax—maybe for the first time all day—as he holds her face with his free hand and gives her a soft kiss. "You're lucky I love you," he mutters against her lips. "Go on then, let me get the job done." He chuckles, ruffling her hair before turning to walk toward the kart.

---------------------------------------------------------------

As Lando takes his warm-up lap, Y/N can be seen sitting beside Max, listening intently as he gives her pointers. Max talks her through the track, explaining the braking points and the tricky corners she needs to watch out for, doing his best to guide her through every detail. Y/N nods along, fully focused, ready to take on the challenge.

"Unbelievable” Max muttered with a scoff.

“What?” Y/N, concerned, turned to Max.

“He’s going slow on purpose.”

“No way…”

“He’s already two seconds behind the lap time he set last time we did the challenge.”

“He clearly doesn’t want me on the faster karts then” Y/N slouched in her seat, deflated.

Max nodded, grabbing his radio to speak to Lando. “Mate, you have to do one more. The clock wasn’t working properly, sorry.”

“Copy,” Lando replied, completely unaware that his girlfriend and best friend had caught on to his little trick.

Lando took one more lap, and it was even slower than the previous three. The two of them walked over to the track to greet him.

“How was that?” Lando asked, pulling off his helmet with a grin.

“Yeah, no, mate—no chance,” Max said, shaking his head. “You were going slow on purpose.”

"No I wasn't!" Lando immediately shouts in defense

"I'm setting the lap time," Max says, handing over the stopwatch to Lando before heading back into the building to grab his own helmet.

Y/N stands with her arms crossed, staring at her boyfriend with a look of clear disapproval.

"Oh, come on, baby," Lando chuckles softly, stepping toward her and pulling her into his arms. "You can’t be mad at me."

Just then, Max walks back out, helmet on, heading toward the kart. "Alright, lovebirds, enough with the mushy stuff," he teases with a grin.

"Max I swear—"

Y/N tugs on Lando's arm, dragging him to where her and Max were previously sat, leaving Max to get to his kart "Goodluck Maxie! Fast and safe yeah?"

"Always"

--------------------------------------------------------------------

As expected, Max set a solid lap time, one that left both Lando and Y/N chasing after it. The three of them were all significantly faster than any of Lando's previous attempts, creating the perfect challenge for Y/N to take on and hopefully beat.

The scene cuts to the three of them back on track, with Max standing off to the side, a sheepish grin on his face as he watches Lando double, triple, and maybe even quadruple-check every little thing while Y/N sits in the kart.

"Mate, at this point, you’ve checked her seatbelt so many times, I’m pretty sure it’s been inspected more than your car before a race," Max laughs, shaking his head. "You planning to give her a full service next?"

Lando lets out a sigh. "Hey, better safe than sorry," he says, tugging on the straps for what feels like the hundredth time.

Max chuckles. "At this rate, she’s gonna need a nap after all your—"

Y/N, fully embracing the teasing, drops her head forward and lets out exaggerated snoring noises. "Oh— and she's down," Max laughs, enjoying the moment.

Lando rolls his eyes and shakes his head, his focus not breaking as he checks the brakes one last time. He leans in to gently lift her head, making sure she looks at him.

"Don’t push yourself beyond what you're comfortable with," he says, his tone serious but soft. "If at any point you want to stop, just let us know. And if anything feels off—"

"I know, baby," Y/N interrupts with a playful smile, brushing him off. "I’ll be fine. You worry too much."

Lando gives her a soft smile before planting a quick kiss on the top of her helmet, then gives her a light tap on the side before starting her kart.

"Okay, let’s go, lover boy. Drive fast, Y/N!" Max teases, already dragging Lando off the track.

"I will!" Y/N calls back, already revving the engine.

Lando pauses, his voice rising as he watches her take off. "Safely, baby, please! Drive safely!" He shouts after her, hands still hovering nervously at his sides.

Max smirks. "You're really gonna keep yelling at her like that from the sidelines?"

"I've only got one of her, I’ve got the right to worry," Lando mutters, but a smile creeps onto his face.

----------------------------------------------------------

The challenge was going smoothly, with Y/N only a couple of seconds off the target lap time on her first attempt. By her third kart, she finally beat it by just tenths of a second. However, that didn’t stop her from wanting to try out the fastest kart they had available, much to Lando’s frustration.

"Baby, you’re already faster than the rest of us. Why do you need to go any faster?" Lando groans, running a hand through his hair as she approaches the kart.

Y/N grins mischievously, her competitive spirit clearly not satisfied yet. "Because I can. Besides, I’m just warming up," she teases, hopping into the sleek, speedier kart.

The first lap went perfectly, with Y/N letting out shouts of joy as she sped through the track. Lando and Max watched from the sidelines, impressed by how well she was handling the kart, both commenting on how fast and smooth she was. However, by the fourth turn of her second lap, they began to notice a change. Y/N’s arms were starting to give out. She was struggling to keep the kart under control, her once-smooth movements becoming more jerky with each turn.

Lando immediately grabs the radio, his voice laced with concern. "Y/N, love, you’ve gotta slow down now, alright? Your arms are giving out a little, you’re gonna go off track."

Lando watches anxiously, his fingers gripping the radio tightly, waiting for her response. Before he can radio her again, he sees Y/N miss the braking point, her kart spinning out and slamming into one of the barriers on the turn.

Both Lando and Max jolt up from their seats, the panic flashing in their eyes. Lando grabs the radio and bolts down the track, Max following closely behind. Their feet pound against the ground as they rush toward where she’s spun out.

"I'm okay. Just dizzy from the spin," Y/N's voice crackles through the radio, making Max stop in his tracks and squat down on the spot, letting out a relieved breath.

Lando, however, doesn’t slow down. He keeps sprinting toward where she’s stopped, his heart racing as he sees her starting to get out of the kart.

Max, noticing her movement, immediately grabs the radio. "Hey— no. Y/N, slow down. Wait ‘til we get to you. Lando's nearly there, sit tight."

Lando’s feet hit the track faster, his worry growing with every step as he sees Y/N trying to move. He reaches her in no time, dropping to his knees beside her. With quick, precise movements, he removes her helmet, immediately inspecting her for any signs of injury.

"What's hurting? Are you okay? What hurts?" His voice is frantic, eyes scanning her for any sign of damage.

Y/N shakes her head, offering a small, reassuring smile. "Lan... I'm okay. It wasn’t that bad, really. Just felt like a soft bump to the side. I’m feeling peachy, I promise. Just... embarrassed is all," she admits, a hint of a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Fuck me... Right, we're done for today. C’mon." Lando pulls her into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to the top of her head before gently helping her out of the kart.

Max, still out of breath, finally catches up to them. "You good, Y/N?"

"Yes, I'm okay. Still in one piece," Y/N laughs, giving a thumbs-up, earning a facepalm from Lando.

"That looked really bad from where we were," Max says, looking at the kart, then back at her with concern still lingering in his eyes.

Lando shoots him a look. "Yeah, thanks for the commentary, Max. We’re all fine now, though." He turns his attention back to Y/N, making sure she’s steady on her feet. "Let’s get you checked out properly, just in case."

The three make their way back to the building, with Lando softly checking in on Y/N, making sure she’s still feeling alright after the spin. Their light chatter fills the air as Max trails behind, looking at the pair with a sheepish grin.

"So, uh... we’re keeping this on the video, right?" Max asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Lando glances over at him "You muppet"

Y/N smirks, giving Max a playful nudge. "Honestly, I wouldn’t mind. They live for drama."

Lando groans, but a grin tugs at his lips. "You're both impossible."

[kyuujo]

↳ thinkin of u <3

↳ sae itoshi, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro x fem!reader (separate) ↳ nsfw(ish) ↳ established relationships, nudes, descriptions of masturbation (fem), “sending them nudes/spicy vids while they’re in public”, slight sexting?, contains crack (sorry i can’t help myself), no explicit sex but lots of allusions to it, language, aged up characters, not proof read :x, my writing

↳ 1k words

↳ tbh i’ve thought about this trope for a long time and finally got the creativity and inspiration to write it! i’m not entirely sure of the quality of this as i’ve never written anything like this before, but i hope it’s still enjoyable! thank you so much for reading and i hope you enjoy!! <3

“… now that you’ve played alongside japan’s u-20, would you ever reconsider your decision not to join? the people want to know.”

sae sent an icy glare to the reporter across from him; he’d thought he’d made his stance on this vividly clear, but obviously not.

“no.” sae said simply, reveling in the spark of indignation his refusal brought to the man’s eyes.

“well, why not—?”

sae lifted a hand to silence the man when his phone pinged twice — maybe that was rude, but sae had the feeling that whatever had just come through his phone would be a thousand times more entertaining and engaging than the sleaze across from him.

and boy, was sae right.

my wife: seeing you on tv has me all worked up. maybe hurry it along? 😘

my wife: [video attachment]

despite his current surroundings and the many cameras pointed at him, sae opened the attachment — it was a video, one without sound, but the muteness didn’t take away from the sheer tempting nature of it.

you looked so good, back resting against the armrest of the couch and legs spread lazily and slit glistening in the flash of the camera. your fingers teased at your clit lightly, and desire shot through sae’s body as he itched to replace them with his own.

sae didn’t even get halfway through the video before his phone pinged with another message — and then another.

my wife: SAE YOU ARENT SUPPOSED TO LOOK YET

my wife: YOURE ON LIVE TV PUT IT DOWN

sae smirked and gave the reporter a lazy wave before standing.

“my deepest apologies, but i’m cutting this short. i have some other business to attend to.”

sae couldn’t give two shits about the way both the reporter and his pr manager sputtered and desperately attempted to flag him back — his woman was waiting on him at home, and that was far more important.

shidou rarely ever felt bored during matches — but so far, this one had simply been a drag. the opposing team didn’t really offer much of a challenge, and shidou had scored more points off of them than he could justly remember.

by the time half-time rolled around, shidou was seething and sweating, feeling incredibly tense and antsy as he whipped into the locker room.

his teammates knew not to bother him when he was in a dip like this, so they cleared a path for him and avoided eye contact at all costs. if shidou weren’t so frustrated he would have found it amusing.

there was only one thing that may make shidou feel the least bit better — messages from you, something he was guaranteed to find at half-time. a trickle of excitement slithered down his body when he pulled his phone from his locker and plopped down on the nearest bench. his phone read ‘3 unread messages’ when he clicked the screen on.

shidou didn’t think twice about tapping open the chat log between the two of you, a smile instantly gracing his lips at your first message.

babygirl💕: hope your match is going well baby!! i know you’re gonna rock it

babygirl💕: but on the slim to none chance that it may not be, i want to give you some motivation ;)

babygirl💕: [video attachment]

shidou probably should have ensured his sound was off before opening it — but your legs were spread open so deliciously and your fingers were working your cunt at a desperate speed, what was shidou supposed to do? think rationally? tough chance.

lewd moans and whines of “shidouuuuu” filled the locker room and ten pairs of shocked eyes met his. shidou’s cheeks warmed and anger sparked in his chest at the knowledge that now his teammates knew how absolutely angelic you sounded in the throes of pleasure.

all it took was a heavy glare and they were clearing out of the room to give him and your video some privacy.

every single tiny box on the shelf looked exactly the same.

what was he even supposed to get again? he’d read over the front of every box at least three times. pearl, radiant, braided… none of those words rung any bells in his head. what was it you had told him before he left?

“maybe it was the pearl…?” nagi murmured to himself, eyes narrowed as if that would somehow help the answer become more clearer to him. he gingerly grabbed a box and examined it before promptly putting it back on the shelf.

nagi didn’t like to admit defeat, but he’d been perusing this shelf for nearly thirty minutes and still didn’t know shit from shat — he’d have to phone a friend, unfortunately.

nagi slipped his phone from his pocket and was just about to tap open his contacts when his phone pinged with a message; ironically, it was from you.

babycake <3: hurry home love. i’m waiting for you 💕

babycake <3: [image attachment]

nagi’s eyes nearly bugged from his skull when he caught sight of the picture you’d sent him — you, sprawled across the lush queen bed, donning nothing but his freshly washed jersey. if he looked close enough, he could see the faintest tease of your nipples perked up beneath the fabric, and the hem of it fell to your mid thighs, hiding the sweet spot between your legs.

nagi sucked in a breath and clicked off his phone screen, willing his half-hard dick to calm down — at least while he was in the store. with furtive glances down each side of the isle nagi powered his screen on and, while avoiding letting his gaze fall to the tempting picture, typed a quick response.

me: omw. don’t move.

your period wasn’t due for another week, anyway. nagi always had time to figure out the pearl-versus-radiant-versus-braided debacle before then.

i genuinely had so much fun cooking these up! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments and reblogs are not at all required but are much appreciated!! <33

[3dmanswhore]

do you? | k. bakugou

3.2k words

content: nsfw, mdni, aged up characters, fem!reader, established (ex) relationship, friends w benefits, fluffy smut, unprotected sex, unedited & lowkey badly written

tbh didn’t even plan on writing this as smut but it just kind of turned into it as i kept writing it 💀, might have to go on another 2+ year hiatus over the embarrassment

other than fucking with no strings attached, Katsuki and i hadn’t seen each other much since our last year at UA. especially at ungodly hours such as right now.

when he would sneak into my dorm after a big fight, silently cuddling up to my half-asleep figure. i would mindlessly stroke his hair and fall back asleep, sometimes waking up to him, or just after he had left.

but here he was now.

at 3am, in my apartment.

only having had the key to unlock the place because i gave it to him for the sake of convenience. for when he calls on me in the middle of a drunken night.

he’s standing at the foot of my bed and staring straight at me, the lit up screen of his phone which he used as a flashlight illuminating his tired features in the dark.

“the fuck are you starin’ at”, he says in his usual bitter tone.

i grimace at him, “the fuck are you doin’ here?”, i say in a slightly softer tone, only because i was too tired to try to outmatch him in a field he was far too experienced in: yelling.

“what do you think?”, he says matter-of-factly. and while i usually don’t mind the booty calls. in fact, sometimes i even seek them out, i’m definitely not up for it right now. not without warning, at least.

i groan as i prop myself up on my elbows, “the hell is wrong with you? i told you i’m not fucking you unannounced, especially not when you just let yourself into my apartment.”

he lets out an annoyed groan, pulling his phone up to his face as he starts to vigorously type on it.

a few seconds later, i hear a ping from my own phone. picking it up, i see the far too familiar text message pop up as a notification: i’m coming over.

“you’re already over, dumbass”, i groan as i scoot to the far end of the bed, making space for him.

he shuts his phone off, laying it down next to my own one.

he takes his shirt off, flinging it to some dark corner of my room.

he gets into bed, his hand brushing against my shoulder as he pulls the sheets over us both.

and he…

turns around?

his back facing me?

my eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “what the fuck are you doing?”, i ask in a slightly raised whisper.

without even turning around to face me, he answers, slightly muffled as he talks into the pillow. “what the fuck does it look like?”

“i have no idea”, i answer honestly, “did you seriously just come here for a sleepover?”

i hear him shuffle in the dark as he turns around to look at me, propped up on his elbow as he glares down at me. “you just said you didn’t wanna fuck. i’m tryna sleep”, he looks at me expectantly, as if waiting for a nod of approval before he can go back to sleeping.

“is this like reverse psychology? you think i’m gonna wanna fuck if you suddenly don’t?”, i’m still confused on why he even came over.

he tsks in response, flinging my forehead, “you think you’re all that”, he says harshly but i can sense a playful undertone in the words. “i can’t fall asleep in an empty bed, you should know that from our failed relationship.”

i stayed silent and he turned to lie on his back, facing the ceiling with his hands clasped over his bare chest. his eyes were open but he didn’t say a word, just steadily breathed as he waited for a response from me.

“i didn’t know that”, i said softly as i adjusted my position, scooting a bit closer to him as my face was now mere inches from his shoulder.

he hummed as he kept blinking at the ceiling. “why do you think i always came back to you”, he said just above a whisper, as if he didn’t even want me to hear it.

“well, i would like to think it’s due to how amazing of a girlfriend i was”, i said sarcastically as i copied his posture, studying the ceiling with him as if we were stargazing.

he snorted sarcastically, which admittedly, slightly hurt.

“what was that for!? i wasn’t that bad”, i said in disbelief, sitting up slightly as i stared at him with a shocked expression.

he side-eyed me, and i could almost notice a smirk playing on his features. “you were fuckin’ psycho, y/n”

i hit his chest, rolling my eyes as i laid back down, accidentally resting my head on his shoulder.

i thought he might shrug me off, but instead he extended his arm around me.

we were now cuddling.

i can’t remember us cuddling much even when we dated.

he said he hated the unnecessary heat coming from my body, though i would always wake up to him spooning me, or squeezing me to near death like i was his plushy.

“i was only psycho because you gave me reasons to be”, i retorted, knowing it was only partly true.

it’s true that, in my reckless and hormonal teenage-hood, i could be extremely jealous and possessive. but he could have worked out less, or gotten a bad haircut, or done something to get the girls to stop fawning over him.

the only thing that pushed away the flocks was his shitty attitude, but i’m sure some were even more turned on by it.

“despite your beliefs, i never cheated on you once”, i know he didn’t. “hell, i never even looked at another girl besides you”, he must have meant ‘while we were together’, but i guess it was common sense that didn’t need to be specified.

still, it made my heart churn: the possibility that i was the only one who managed to capture his attention, ever.

the idea gave me a disgusting sense of importance. one so suffocating it might throw me into old habits of trying to get his approval at all costs.

instead of saying something that would ruin the moment and push him away, i hummed in response as i turned to wrap around his warm, and slightly sweaty torso.

thankfully, because of his quirk, he never smelled bad. if anything, i think the sweet-scented sweat made him just that much more intoxicating.

the hand he had wrapped around me rubbed soothing circles into my shoulder, and i could tell by his quickening heartbeat and uneven breath, that even the great Katsuki was capable of feeling nervous.

“i miss this”, he says softly, and i’m sure it is a sentence he will regret muttering in the morning — when he’s not affected by the drowsiness and hypnagogia.

my heart skips a beat as i continue tracing the lines of his muscles, “you do?” is all i can say to not reveal my own feelings on the matter.

“do you?”, he asks instantly, so much so i’m not even sure he meant to say it aloud.

he grabs my tracing hand with his free one, bringing it up to his face as he kisses at my palm, and each section of each finger, the kisses becoming more hungry as he digs his face into my touch like an abandoned hound.

i can only utter his name, my voice shaky as i mindlessly inch my face closer to his.

his usually angry eyes almost look like they are pleading now.

his arm has now moved to my waist as he tries to pull me closer, our chests touching not being enough.

his other hand moves to the back of my neck as he pushes my face down on his. he hungrily nips at my lips, and if i wasn’t so used to his touch i would think he was trying to devour me whole.

we hadn’t kissed like this in such a long time. even during this weird arrangement of ours that had been going on for months, we’d only lock our lips for the sake of muffling the moans and gasps.

as he pulled me in even closer, my shirt now having ridden up almost completely — my chest the only thing stopping it in place, i was now straddling him as he moved his hand to somewhere more interesting than my bare waist.

he squeezed my ass and i let out a gasp to which he only deepened the kiss, stealing the air from my lungs.

i wasn’t sure whether i was feeling lightheaded because he was so inebriating or because of the lack of oxygen going to my brain.

but my judgment was clouded, that was for sure.

i didn’t even want to think of what would happen between us in the morning. perhaps he really was just using psychological tricks to get me to sleep with him tonight. i definitely wouldn’t put it past him.

but i couldn’t care enough right now. i just wanted his touch. i needed it. i had missed it for so long. not the lustful, mindless one i’d been feeling recently, but this — the hungry, desperate touch that leaves bruises in places no bruises should be.

he detaches himself from my lips and moves to nipping on my jaw, and my neck.

i hung my head in the space where his neck and shoulder connect, breathing heavily and whining right into his ear as he teeths at that sweet spot he knew so well of.

he bucks his hips up, searching for even the slightest friction as he continues working on my collar area.

i close my eyes, trying to stop the dizzying feeling in my head. but breathing him in while listening to his quickened heartbeat doesn’t do much to help.

he pulls away, forcing my hips down onto his own and causing me to sit up as i use his heaving chest as an anchor.

he squeezes my bare thighs, his fingers hooking themselves around the waistband of my underwear. he pulls on it softly as if testing the elasticity, his red eyes gleaming at me hungrily.

“did you know i was coming? is that why you only wore this?”, he gruffly said, still playing with the waistband of my panties as his other hand rubbed my back, riding up my tank-top even higher.

i think he knew this was just how i always slept, that it had nothing to do with him. but in this moment, he must have just needed to hear me say it: yes, katsuki, all of this is for you.

so i did, ignoring the fact that it wasn’t true.

he closed his eyes for a moment before sitting upright, holding me to his chest so i wouldn’t fall off as he readjusted us both.

“i’ll make it worth your while”, he said reassuringly, cupping my face with his calloused hand, giving my cheeks a squeeze as he planted a kiss on the tip of my nose.

melting at his touch as i always did, i rested my forehead against his as he looked down at his boxers, trying to pull them down with my legs still straddling him.

i lifted myself up to allow him space as he finally managed to kick them off.

i sat back down, his sprung up cock twitching between our torsos.

he stroked it once, the precum leaking onto my bare stomach as he slapped it against me.

i felt myself leaking on his lap, grinding on him, desperate to feel him inside me, but playing it off as just readjusting myself.

but he knew the truth.

he knew i needed him just as badly as he did me, maybe even more.

he slowly pulled my top off, admiring the way my tits bounced at the motion.

he squeezed my waist, muttering a curse under his breath as we locked eyes again.

“d’you have a condom?”, i asked as i ran a finger through his hair, watching as his eyebrows knitted at the pulling sensation.

“fuck”, he said more clearly now as his head fell, and i knew what the answer was. at least i was now sure he didn’t come here just to fuck.

i shook my head reassuringly, “i’ll get the morning-after pill tomorrow” i knew it was a dumb idea. even in that drunken passion haze, i knew it. i knew it was too risky, and that those things were only about 90% effective — and that is if i remembered to take it on time.

but i couldn’t pass on this opportunity. i couldn’t let him just go home after all of this.

Katsuki was smart, he knew it was a dumb idea, too. but he stayed quiet, nodding silently as he once again started playing with the band of my panties.

i planted soft kisses on his temple, nipping on his ear knowing it was one of his many weaknesses.

he let out a long sigh, mumbling something about ripping off my underwear.

they were an expensive pair, so i’m not sure why i agreed to it, nodding vigorously as i mumbled his name desperately.

like it was just a piece of string, he ripped them off swiftly, pulling them out from under me and throwing them somewhere to the side.

i once again rested on his forehead, watching as he slowly pumped his thick cock against my folds, squealing at the sensation.

we both knew there was no need for further foreplay. maybe when we were younger, we would take hours getting each other off with just our hands and mouths before finally sealing the deal.

but now, there was no need. not only because we were both as horny as one could be, but because we were also so exhausted. unsure whether it was due to the fact that it was nearly 4am and we were running on almost zero hours of sleep, or simply because we were getting older and didn’t have the same stamina we did when we were eighteen or nineteen.

he grabbed my thigh with one hand, lifting me off slightly as i grabbed his shoulder for support, squirming as he rubbed his tip all over my leaking pussy before finally sliding it in completely.

i let out a loud whine, hiding my face into his hair as he kept both hands on my ass.

i wrapped my arms around his neck and he kissed my shoulder, “you good?” he asked as he moved one hand to rub my upper arm in comfort.

i nodded as i let out a sigh, mumbling his name and a pathetic command to fill me up.

he listened, of course, rocking his hips up into me as he simultaneously lifted me off himself, trying to create a rhythm between the two movements.

“c’mon baby, ride me. you know how well you do it”, he almost begged. praise wasn’t something Katsuki practiced in our bedroom life, ever. if anything, he did the opposite. but i think in this moment, he was too exhausted to carry both our loads and get himself off at the same time.

i obliged, lifting myself off him slowly and dropping back down. he desperately bucked into me, unsatisfied with the speed i was going at.

i swirled my hips on him, as if i was tracing patterns with the movement. he let out a broken whine, sinking his head into my chest as i finally picked up the speed.

the sound of skin slapping skin echoed around the room, and i was sure i would get noise complaints from the neighbors in the morning.

he left wet kisses on my chest, breathing heavily as i continued bouncing on him.

i was starting to get tired, my pace faltering as i whined nonsense into his ear. “you fill me up so good, ‘tsuki”, i knew the effect my dumb nicknames had on him.

he always pretended to hate it, and only wanted me to call him by his name. but i always noticed the way his eyes would glint when i’d throw a petname into our conversations.

he suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around my torso, stopping my ability to move as he started pounding into me. the bed was creaking, and i’m pretty sure we even managed to push it from its position as i tried to grab onto the wall behind it.

i let out a loud moan as i wrapped myself around him again, feeling his thick cock fill me up as it pulsated inside of me.

his length hit the deepest part of my insides, and the rhythmic pounding of that sweet spot overwhelmed me with pleasure as i heaved desperately into his ear.

“don’t stop, Katsuki”, i whimpered into his ear, letting out more moans as i dug my fingernails into his back to try and suppress the feeling, but to no avail.

he groaned, holding me tightly as he suddenly turned us around so i was lying underneath him.

he kept up the pace, resting his forehead against mine as he stared into my eyes.

i let out a cry of pleasure, my breath hitching as my heaving mixed with the mumbling of his name and pleads to keep going.

he didn’t stop, but over time his thrusts became sloppy. i watched his face distort in pleasure as he closed his eyes to focus on the thrusts, resting his head in the crook of my neck.

“don’t stop, baby, i’m so close”, the only words of encouragement i could think of in this moment. i ran my hand through his hair, pulling his head up so he could see how good he was making me feel.

he let out a desperate whine, coating my chest with peppered kisses as he kept thrusting into me.

now the sound of squelching and mixed liquids filled the room, along with our desperate wails of pleasure.

“fill m’up with your cum, baby. ‘want to feel you inside”, i whimpered incoherently, pulling him in closer as i wrapped my legs around his hips.

he let out a groan as his pace quickened once more. he held one arm besides my head, propping himself up — while he slithered the other one down to my heat, rubbing my clit until i couldn’t tell whether i was moaning out of pleasure or pain.

the combined sensation of his sex filling me up and his rough fingers overworking my clit proved to be too much as i unraveled all over him, crying out his name desperately as i clung onto him.

his breathing started getting heavier as he kept pumping into me, trying to bring himself to a finish as he rode out my own.

i moaned words of encouragement into his ear, peppering kisses on his jaw and neck until i finally felt his cock twitching inside of me.

he let out a prolonged moan as his semen squirted inside of me, Katsuki pumping himself inside a few more times to ride out the orgasm.

i felt the juices leak out of me as he tiredly pulled out, still lying on-top of me as he tried to pull the blanket over us.

he kept his head sunken in the crook of my neck, his breathing easing as he muttered something incomprehensible.

i brushed through his hair, listening to his calm breathing and feeling his heartbeat slow down to a normal speed.

“i missed you too, ‘tsuki”, i spoke softly, not even sure whether he was still awake to hear it.

[stvrrlau]

𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪.

⤷⤷ 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 sunghoon can't help but be drawn to you.

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨.ᐟ obsessed!stalkerish!sunghoon⋆muse!fem!reader

𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.ᐟ crazily obsessed sunghoon—like girl go file a warrent alr smh, sunghoon literally just glazing u, borderline freaky stuff???? idk man, making out, yn ignores all red flags (tbh fair enough) sunghoon has glasses (😈) written all from sunghoon's pov idk if it ruins it 4 u 💔

𝘴𝘵𝘷𝘳𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴.ᐟ OMG GUYS ????????? (≧ᗜ≦) TYSM 4 SO MUCH ATTENTION ON MY FIRST POST!!! my ao3 is also getting popular ily u all sm <333 wrd count۶ৎ 4 455

SUNGHOON

it was the same. all the same.

all day, everyday, day in, day out, models, all doing the same things, striking the same poses, making same expressions, they were all the same.

the models may have been pretty, but none of them had that spark. none of them had what she had.

———

“sunghoon—i don’t understand. you’re so skilled with a camera but some of these photos came out looking—eh.” the director said, his tone almost distant as he flipped around the same photo multiple times, squinting at the photo, like it had personally wronged him.

“maybe the photos are so “eh”, because the models are “eh”.” i muttered, flicking through the images on my camera, scrolling past image after image of plastic smiles and glassy eyes.

my camera felt heavier with every shoot. stuffed with faces i couldn’t care less about. faces that blurred together the second the lights went off.

my precious camera, filled to the brim with the same prissy models who stand there and bark orders at the staff. god. i almost felt physically repulsed. i needed a new camera, my own personal camera, but unless the pay for this job drastically increased, i was stuck with my work and their work mixing—bleeding into one.

“well sunghoon—you’re going to have to at least pretend to enjoy your job because most of these images will not work.” he said, tossing the picture he finished scrutinizing aside, turning to face me with a glint in his eye. something dangerous.

“because if you can’t get it right next time—i’ll make you keep re-doing it. again. and again. and again.”

and with that he left, the echo of his polished shoes clicking on the ground a stark reminder of what i had gotten myself into. hell.

i exhaled harshly, sitting up in my chair. how was any of that mess out there, considered beautiful? my work. that—that was art.

art was supposed to be real: staring lifelessly into a camera, pouting and flailing your limbs around like a mad man, that wasn’t real. it was fake. all fake.

i sat silently, flicking through my photos, finally feeling at peace. my photos weren’t fake. they were real. a hell of a lot realer than whatever was going on outside.

speaking of which, the familiar echo of stiletto heels clicked down the corridor, followed by an endless amount of high pitched squawking and complaints.

finally. i could leave.

i waited for the studio to empty out, flicking off the last switch and silently leaving the hell-hole—also known as the company i worked for.

finally. finally, i could take pictures of what i truly wanted—pictures of real art.

the city.

———

the city was different after dark.

gone were the hollow poses, the forced perfection. the streets didn’t need a filter, didn’t need retouching. the neon lights flickered like open veins, bleeding soft pinks and electric blues across the cracked pavement. the air was cold, sharp, alive.

i took a deep breath, a shiver running through my body as i did so. even so, i grasped my camera tightly, my hands already turning red from the cold, and went on my mission. 

take pictures of what i want. not what others want.

———

windows glowed like little stories waiting to be captured. strangers passed by in fleeting glances, faces half-hidden beneath streetlights, cigarette smoke swirling like halos around their heads.

the strangers.

my favourite.

out in the city, no one cared what designer bag you had stored away in your twenty meter by twenty meter wardrobe. no—out in the city, people had places to be, they didn’t have time to dilly-dally, people had an aim to complete.

just like me.

i aimed to take pictures of art.

out here, i didn’t need perfect lighting. i didn’t need a director breathing down my neck. all i needed was the click of my shutter, the hum of the city, and the darkness that wrapped around me like an old friend.

———

the rain had stopped hours ago, yet the silver streets still glistened like it was a few moments ago. puddles littered the ground wherever i went, small pools of mirrors stealing my attention wherever i went.

i found myself pausing, crouched down on the sidewalk, camera hanging loose around my neck as i stared at a puddle.

the moon was perfectly reflected, in all it’s glory, in that small mirror.

my fingers twitched as i reached for my camera, my touch already on the shutter, capturing the moment, saving it, for me, forever.

slowly, i released the camera from my grasp, letting it hang from my neck again, as something else caught my attention.

a tall lamppost, old, rusty, crooked, its light flickering like a dying star, stretching long and thin across the puddle’s surface.

the shot was perfect. 

my hands quickly scrambled for the camera, quickly capturing the sight before me, before it disappeared right before my eyes.

quickly, my hands frantically pressed every button so i could check the shot. just as i thought: it was perfect.

too perfect.

i glanced up for a moment, before noticing the reason why. it wasn’t the scene. it was her.

her.

there she stood, in my camera, the light of the lamppost cast down on her, creating a sort of halo around her, her own little world. she wasn’t even posing: simply walking, from what i assumed work, her hand delicately wrapped around her bag, her coat framing her figure, falling just above her ankles.

she was what i was missing. she was my spark. she was my art. my muse.

my head whipped up from staring down at my camera, just to catch a glimpse of her disappearing into the shadows. and just like that she was gone. gone before i could do anything else.

but i’d make sure i’d see her again. she was my spark. she was my muse. she was what i needed. i need to make her mine.

because art like her doesn’t belong to the streets. it belongs to someone who can capture it. preserve it. own it. someone like me.

———

i sat in the studio, staring at my camera.

this time i wasn’t flicking through my pictures though, no—this time i was only looking at one. the one with her.

the longer i looked, analyzed, the more i had to find her again.

i felt my breathing come in short gasps, my heart pound wildly in my chest, my body suddenly feeling warmer, hotter. but why was this happening to me? because of her. my muse. my spark.

today. i will find her.

———

as soon as work was over i rushed out of the studio, not giving a damn about the models that screeched loudly as i pushed through the crowded corridors.

without another thought, i headed to where i first saw her. where my camera first got a glimpse of her beauty.

i panted, leaning against a nearby wall but always on the look-out, my eyes scanning anyone that dared walk past.

i waited. and waited. and waited.

i waited for my muse, hoping, pleading with the city, to bring her to me. bring her back to me.

my hands hovered above the camera, practically shaking with excitement: i could feel it. she was close.

just as i expected, there she was.

there she was, a slight skip in her step, walking home, as if it meant nothing at all. to me, it meant the world.

i didn’t hesitate. my hands firmly held the camera, producing picture after picture, until, just like the fateful night yesterday, she disappeared out of my sight. she’ll be back though. i know she will.

with shaky hands, i began to go through the photos, licking my lips nervously.

i bit back a gasp that threatened to escape my mouth, each photo more beautiful than the last. that coat, that bag, those shoes, that hat, that girl. she was a model like no other. and she was all mine.

———

days blurred into nights. and nights blurred into her.

the first time wasn’t enough. not even close. after that second encounter, i knew the city wasn’t just luck. it was fate.

our fate. we were meant for each other.

so i began studying her. studied her hobbies, what routes she took, what she liked, disliked, everything. i knew things about her that she herself probably didn’t know.

i learned everything.

her favorite stores. her favorite corners. the little flower shop she always passed but never entered. the crosswalk where she always stopped, even when the streets were empty. the café table she chose without fail, always second from the window, always her back to the world.

my camera became my weapon. and her? she was still the masterpiece i hadn’t finished capturing.

my camera never left my side. and neither did she.

whether she knew it or not, her life had already been printed onto film. captured, frozen, sealed away for me. for my eyes. for my keeping. sd cards filled with photographs of her—only her.

the first photograph didn’t satisfy me—no. it only fed the hunger—the monster inside of me, the monster that was desperate to steal her away from all of humanity and keep her for myself.

and every new photo, every new angle, every new fleeting moment caught on camera—it all provided that same feeling. that short high, that short burst of pleasure that shook me to my core.

she was perfect.

she was mine.

even if she didn’t know it yet.

———

my shoulders slumped as i held my breath, eyes drinking in the countless photos stored away inside my camera.

her smile, her side profile, the tilt of her head as she waited for her morning coffee. every angle was perfection, every shot proof that she belonged to me, even if the world hadn’t caught up yet.

my thumb hovered over the trackpad, shifting from photo to photo, heart pounding in sync with every click.

i could stare at her forever.

i would.

the soft click of the studio door opening and the distant sound of people talking quickly snapped me out of my trance, making me jump, nearly dropping my camera and forcing me to tear away my gaze from the beauty on my screen.

but it was worth it because stood in front of me, her hands clasped together politely, a small smile on her face, was her.

her.

i felt the air in my lungs disappear in an instant, fumbling with the power off button before my secrets were on display to the whole world.

“sunghoon.”

i coughed awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of my posture.

“this is your new apprentice. be kind, or at least pretend. teach her well—who knows, maybe you’ll finally earn that raise.” and with that he left, leaving me alone—with her.

fuck she was even more prettier in person.

the way her hair perfectly framed her face, the way her clothes were perfectly suited to highlight her curves, the way her face looked at me with an expression i only wanted to keep to myself.

“i’m yn,” she smiled, her voice soft and innocent, like a blossoming flower in spring, “i hope we can get along with each other.”

she extended her hand slowly, almost shy at first, but then confidently continuing.

i extended my hand to shake hers, and the moment her palm pressed to mine, i felt it. the same way i felt it that night.

she was perfect. 

she was here.

here for me and only me.

i couldn’t stop the smile that made it’s way onto my face, one of those stupid grins you get when you’re tired but still happy. i licked my lips, my fangs peeking out for a moment before i spoke, trying to calm down.

“sunghoon. i’m sure we’ll get along just fine, don’t worry about it yn.” i replied, my voice far steadier than the storm brewing inside me. her name tasted sweet on my tongue, like sugar laced with poison—addictive, dangerous, and entirely mine.

———

i should’ve been teaching her about lighting. angles. exposure. but the way her brows furrowed in concentration was more artistic than any photo i’d ever taken.

“am i doing it right sunghoon?”

shit, even the way she says my name is perfect. the way my name fell from her mouth — soft, sweet, like honey melting on the tip of her tongue.

i didn’t answer right away. i couldn’t. not when i was too busy memorizing every inch of her face.

“y-yeah—but you should move your hand further up so you don’t accidentally delete anything.” i said.

confused, she moved her hand, still covering the wrong buttons. unsure, she looked at me for reassurance.

“no.” i murmured, shaking my head.

slowly, like a predator approaching its prey, i moved closer, suddenly stood behind her, so close close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin, to smell the soft floral perfume that clung to her wherever she went.

my hands found hers, fingers grazing her knuckles, slow, lingering, guiding.

“like this.” i whispered, my breath ghosting along the back of her neck.

i saw the subtle shiver that ran through her body and i bit my lip in an attempt to hold back a groan. fuck, this was bad. she wasn’t moving away, wasn’t screaming at me, calling me a creep, she just stayed in the same position.

like she didn’t want to move.

so close, that her hair tickled my face as she spoke.

her hair brushed against my cheek as she tilted her head slightly, voice light as ever, like the tension wasn’t making my pulse pound out of my chest.

“okay, but what if i want to compare multiple photos?”

“then you want to,” i spoke but i couldn’t hear myself, all i could think about was how her hands would feel without a camera, how she would feel pressed against the nearest wall, what she would taste like, how it would feel to crash my lips against hers right this moment—

“sunghoon! yn!”

i practically jumped, cursing whoever interrupted this sacred moment between me and her.

“you’re needed outside! come on!” someone shouted from the chaos outside.

reluctantly i stepped away from yn, immediately missing the feeling of having her so close to me.

i stared down at the ground, muttering something under my breath, feeling my fingers twitch in annoyance.

“i guess we should go.”

yn’s voice weaved into my mind like silk. as i looked up i was met with that inviting smile she always wore—the one that made me want to kiss her senseless.

“yeah..” i replied, that same stupid smile, the one she only ever saw, on my face.

“let’s go.”

———

silently, i gathered my things, my mind wandering back to the days earlier moments. the fact she didn’t move. the fact her scent still lingered even after all these hours. the fact she was all i could think about.

i slung my bag over my shoulder, camera hanging loosely around my neck as i walked casually towards the exit.

that was until i saw yn. stood at the exit. turning to face me. smiling at me.

fuck, i could already feel the heat spread throughout my body as i approached her, stopping a couple centimeters away from her.

“hey yn. you waiting for anyone?”

say no. say you aren’t. she couldn’t say yes. she was mine.

“yes actually!”

what bastard gets to keep her waiting? who was he? who did he think he was to keep my precious yn waiting?

“i was waiting for you! i figured we could walk home together.” she said, shyly looking away as she mentioned we could walk together.

my eyes widened, just for a moment, and i had to take a moment to gather myself.

“you’re waiting…for me?” i asked, still in disbelief.

she nodded.

“and you want to walk home with me?”

“that’s the goal.”

i was silent for a moment before i pulled myself together.

“yes, okay let’s go.” i nodded, clearing my throat awkwardly.

———

normally, the city at night was my haven, my sanctuary, my safe space. normally all i could focus on was the glow of the moon, the distant lights that twinkled from the cities windows, the hum of the engine from every car that passed by. normally i couldn’t tear my gaze away from the city. today, i couldn’t tear my gaze away from her.

her shoulder brushed mine, occasionally, and every single time i felt it, it sent a thrill through me so sharp it was almost painful. i’d memorized these streets. i’d memorized her steps. but tonight was different. tonight she was by my side, willingly.

she chose me to walk home with.

i stole glances when she wasn’t looking, watching the way the moonlight glowed against her skin, soft and silver like it had chosen only her to shine on, like she was under the night’s spotlight. the way her nose crinkled when she talked about something she was passionate about.

my camera swung around my neck with every step i took, my fingers aching to hold the weight of it in my hands, desperate to capture her in this perfect moment—but i didn’t need a photograph, it was already engraved into my memory, stored away for later use.

“sunghoon?” her voice pulled me out of my dazed thoughts, “you okay?”

i nodded, swallowing hard. i wasn’t okay—i was never okay when it came to her.

“you know,” i started, my voice lower than usual, “you shouldn’t walk home alone at night. it’s dangerous.”

she laughed lightly, kicking a loose pebble on the pavement, “that’s why i’m walking with you, isn’t it?”

it was quiet for a moment before she nodded.

“i suppose. there can be some creepy people around at this time.”

“creepy?” i said, raising an eyebrow, “sure. but no one would ever dare hurt you. not when i’m watching. they wouldn’t touch you. they wouldn’t even look at you.”

i paused, tilting my head slightly, letting the weight of my words settle.

“i wouldn’t let them.”

her grin only made it worse. the way she nudged me like it was some harmless joke.

“my hero,” she giggled.

if only she knew. i wasn’t saving her from the world. i was saving the world from her.

because she was mine. and i don’t share.

———

the studio was a mess the moment we walked in. lights half-assembled, makeup artists pacing in circles, and the frantic buzz of staff voices overlapping one another like a broken radio.

me and yn glanced at each other, weary eyes already tired and we don’t even know the reason for the mess.

i looked around, eyebrows twitching in mild annoyance—until i overheard the reason for the chaos.

“the model canceled last minute,” one of the assistants rushed by, nearly knocking into me, “we’re one short, sunghoon. the shoot can’t start without her.”

i sighed. of course she cancelled.

“she cancelled?” yn repeated in a hushed voice, speaking only to me, “does this happen often?”

“only when the models feel petty.” i groaned, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“is there anyway we could help?” she asked.

before she spoke again, she swallowed nervously, like she was scared of what she was about to say.

“what is it?”

“do you think—i could replace the model?” she said hesitantly, looking up at me with those wide eyes that made me crazy.

before i could respond, another assistant rushed past us and then abruptly turned around.

“you!” she said, pointing at yn. my gaze hardened. what did she want with my yn?

“can you replace our model!? please! you look similar measurements and if i’m not too honest here, you look prettier, alright come on, you need to get changed!” the assistant rambled, quickly snatching yn out of my sight and into the modelling world.

i stood there, chewing my lip.

i had lost my apprentice, my yn, to a bunch of snobs who wanted to change her, try make her fit their ridiculous outfits like she wasn’t beautiful already.

but all of my thoughts disappeared when she appeared.

i felt as if time had stopped.

the dress. the fucking dress.

it wrapped around her like it was designed with her body in mind—clinging to every curve, slipping off one shoulder in a way that wasn’t accidental. her hair was slightly tousled, her lips tinted pink, her eyes soft but sharp as they flicked around, the once chaotic and now stunned, room. towards me.

i could barely swallow. my throat felt like sandpaper.

my fingers curled around the camera, knuckles turning white, chest tightening as the heat clawed its way through me, pooling in places i couldn’t control.

i stepped back, fast, clearing my throat.

“i’ll be back. i need... to check the light settings.”

a lie. the light was fine. everything was fine. except me.

i rushed out and fled to the nearest bathroom. in there i quickly splashed cold water onto my face, desperately trying to calm down. it was too late though as when i looked down there was already clear evidence of my arousal.

i groaned into my hands, rubbing at my face, feeling the heat throughout my body get only stronger.

fuck, fuck, fuck!

what was i going to do?

i couldn’t just go out there so everyone could see how hard i was, like a fucking animal in heat! what could i do?

“sunghoon! are you in there? we need you back out here!”

what was there to do?

i adjusted my jeans as much as possible, trying to hide my evident arousal, dried my face and took a deep breath. 

forcing my expression blank, i walked back into the studio, trying to mask every inch of the storm raging inside me.

i should have run. the second i stepped back into the studio it was game over.

 there she stood, under the lights, posing, the dress hugging her like sin, her eyes glancing toward the camera—toward me. like she already knew.

i shakily walked over and began instructing her, how to pose, her facial expressions, but i didn’t even have to. she looked beautiful either way.

i raised the camera, fingers shaking slightly, the weight of it grounding me for the smallest second.

click.

and then another.

click.

and another.

click.

each shot burned more than the last.

she didn’t know. but she was mine.

———

the studio finally emptied, the silence ringing in my ears louder than the chaos that happened less than two hours ago.

“yn.” i called her name, soft but firm.

she looked up, tilting her head slightly, strands of hair falling loose from behind her ear. god, even the way she looked at me made my thoughts spiral.

“do you mind staying a little longer?” i asked, trying to sound casual, even though my pulse was betraying me. “i still need to process the photos. dark room’s better when you’ve got an extra pair of hands.”

i waited, my heart heavy as she considered my words.

she nodded with a small smile, “sure.”

the two of us slipped into the dark room, the soft red light bathing her face in this surreal glow. the hum of the ancient lights above us filled the silence, sometimes broken by the occasional drip of developer fluid or the rustling of photographs.

i complied the photographs, treating them all with the same amount of care as the last, and gently placed them in the chemical trays, watching them bloom to life.

i could feel her beside me, close enough that her warmth radiated against my skin.

and then—her voice broke the quiet.

“...this one wasn’t part of the shoot.”

my stomach dropped. i turned, following her gaze to the photo she held between her fingers. the one i didn’t mean to leave out. the one i shouldn’t have printed.

it was her.

off-guard. smiling at an assistant.  head tilted slightly. lips parted. eyes soft and distant—caught in a moment i couldn’t resist stealing during the shoot.

a moment only i had ever seen.

she stared at me, her expression unreadable as she opened her mouth to speak again.

“you kept this?” her voice came out quieter, more fragile.

i swallowed but my throat felt tight.

“why?” she whispered.

i couldn’t lie. not anymore.

“because you looked beautiful. you always do.” i murmured, taking a hesitant step forward. when she didn’t move, i took it as a sign to continue.

“i’ve taken a lot of pictures, yn. but none of them—not a single one—ever felt right. until you.”

i licked my lips, my gaze still focused on the ground.

“you were different. you made the photo more alive. you weren’t just my muse—you were the spark inside me that caused this.”

she blinked, lips trembling slightly, and her voice barely came out as a whisper, “why me?”

i let out a soft breath, fingers twitching at my side, resisting the urge to just touch her, pull her in.

“i don’t know. i never did, and i’ll probably never know. but i do know, that you yn, have ignited something inside of me, and i don’t think it’ll ever stop burning.”

he room felt smaller, her heartbeat syncing with mine, the air electric and heavy and impossibly intimate.

her fingers loosened around the photo, letting it fall back onto the table, before she slowly looked up at me—eyes dark, unreadable, but soft at the edges.

“sunghoon.” she whispered. my name had never sounded sweeter.

she took a step forward, closing the gap between us. “do you mean it? this isn’t some sick joke?”

“of course i mean it.”

“then kiss me sunghoon.”

the space between us disappeared before either of us could think. my hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in, and the second her lips met mine—i knew there was no going back.

the kiss wasn’t soft. it was desperate, hungry, full of every second i’d spent trying to resist her. my hands tangled into her hair, hers fisting the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, closer, until i could feel the way her chest pressed against mine, the way her lips parted for me so naturally like she was always meant to.

i pressed her against the closest wall, groaning against her lips, swallowing her little gasps and sighs.

as i pulled away, both panting for air, breath hot and heavy against each other, my hand instinctively clutched my camera, taking a picture of her.

breathless, lips swollen from my attack, perfect.

“mine.” i whispered, quickly forgetting about the camera and immediately pressing my lips against hers again.

[nejiverse]

FORGETFULNESS

Gojo Satoru

In which Gojo’s forgetfulness earns him the silent treatment from his two girls. Fem! Reader

cw: none and omg its been like a month since ive written anything im shocked tbh lol i’ll try to get through requests! Not proofread

600 words

You could hear your husband sigh loudly and dramatically even though he wasn't in the same room as you.

You rolled your eyes and couldn't stop the smile creeping up to your lips as you ran a hand through your daughter's hair, opting to do two pigtails for her as per her request.

Another sigh came from Gojo's lips but this time it sounded closer. You looked at his reflection through the bathroom mirror and were met with the man child peeping through the gap between the door and door frame with a pout on his face.

Your daughter— who was sat comfortably on the counter near the sink— made eye contact with her father but quickly closed her eyes and folded her arms with an even more dramatic huff (like father like daughter).

"D/n please! I said i'm sorry! I promise i'll never ever do it again!", Gojo wailed.

His daughter who was refusing to talk to him, pointed an accusing finger at him through the mirror. "Leave me alone papa!".

"It was one birthday! I always remember the rest of their birthdays!", he lied. He didn't remember a single one of his daughter's stuffed animal's birthdays, there was just so many. It’s what he gets for buying her another one every week. He set reminders on his phone to make sure he never forgets....but this time…he forgot.

It's not his fault, he’s a busy guy!

"Forgive me d/nnnnn!", he pleaded whilst clasping his hands together.

The little girl covered her ears with her hands cutely and closed her eyes, mumbling a string of 'lala's'. "I can't hear papa!".

You chuckled at her antics. "I can't seem to hear papa either", you quipped.

Gojo felt the betrayal deep within his soul. His two favourite girls were giving him the silent treatment.

"Not you too!", he looked at you with a frown. If Gojo were a dog, his ears would definitely be droopy right now.

Jokes on you guys, he came prepared.

"Aw, I guess i'll have to eat this cake aaaaaall by myself", he faked a sad expression and spun the cake around, giving you two a full glimpse of the delicious dessert.

You wouldn't put it past him either, he would definitely finish the whole cake by himself.

"Maybe I can hear papa a little bit", the little girl couldn't help the endearing smile tugging at the sides of her lips.

You shook your head at Gojo's little bribery trick as you placed two pink bows onto her hair.

"Only a little bit?", he tilted his head.

"A lot bit!", she giggled and extended her arms out to Gojo who gladly carried her in one hand and held the cake in the other.

Gojo looked at you as you leaned back against the counter.

"And what about you?".

"Toru, half of the time I hear you before I'm able to see you, and that’s not a compliment".

He scrunched up his face. "You could've said something cute like I always hear you Toru, I love you!".

"Yuck", you grimaced jokingly.

"Yuck!", the little girl spat her tongue despite not knowing exactly what was going on.

masterlist :)

[altruistic-meme]

alright. okay. alright okay we're making a little progress now 👀

me, breaking out my laptop: i am going to write smut. it is going to pwp. i will get through this!!

also me, the moment i start writing: *pouring out feelings and angst and emotions and going nowhere near the planned smut*

[crk-kr-to-en]

Now that I've read the KR text of the game and fully realized who Shamil and Pyuba are actually supposed to be, I think of how many artworks and fanfics probably wouldn't exist if those people knew, too, and I both shake my head in sorrow and feel this little sardonic giggle bubbling in my throat lol. Lovely art and beautifully written fiction proudly depicting the wrong people as wrongly as possible. Would trading them all away in exchange for proper understanding of the true story and characters be a trade any of us would be willing to make? Just something to think about, I suppose I wouldn't miss most of it tbh. ShadowVanilla has mostly devolved into regular horny yaoi slop anyway

On another note, a big reason I've been struggling a lot with writing a ShadowVanilla fic I've had in my drafts for 400 years is bc I keep worrying that I'm writing Shamil "wrong". I kept leaning away from the silly clownish behavior+dialogue bc I'm not used to writing characters who sound... like that (characters like that usually irritate tf out of me lol). But now I see that I've been writing Shamil correctly after all - I've unknowingly been writing the Korean one and not the English one! I feel infinitely less dumb and useless now, so thank you x1000 for showing me I was on the right path all along 🙏🙏🙏 (thank you for your hard work doing these translation in general, they've been very enlightening)

No problem! Its always pleasure doing translations.

Fr fr. I barely even took so much from En Shamil when I made analysis posts about him back in Ep 7 release because his character still felt so underwhelming that I had to resort looking into the plotline, the emotions found in his trailers or the character design. (And in terms of fanart, I lonly liked the more serious depictions of his character before translating the Kr version.)

I will never forgive En localization team for removing MOST of the clues about Shamil's self loathing in Ep 8 to become some silly marketable character (I can't even explain how many times there is). And how they took away Pyuba's "Jesusness" despite being literal Cookie Jesus by making him sound overly polite and gentle through his dialogue, contrasting Kr Pyuba's stern kindness and sincerity. And Pyuba's Awakening title as well. The quality of being Compassionate has ALWAYS been present for him through all of the story. His entrie plot line in ep 8 was UNDERSTANDING Shamil, not pity him. "Let me be your... friend." and "I want to be your friend." are NOT the same nor they feel similar in tone. The former sounding like he's sorry for him, while the latter is a DESIRE and an invitation Shamil couldn't escape PERFECTLY MIRRORING Shamil's intentions of wanting Pyuba to stay with him forever.

SO MUCH in Ep 7 is so diluted as well and I hate it. The first translation I've actually seen was the part where En said "other half" when it's actually "lesser half" in Kr that I clocked that it's actually him thinking so highly of himself when he's clearly self-loathing (which perfectly fit into my favorite "Control Freak" character category paired with a "Hope Personified" character.)

People may like English Shamil's lore, but that's the DILUTED (and tumblr sexyfied™) version of him, meanwhile I come out of the Original Korean Shamil lore dragging myself across the floor covered in blood.

[julietasgf]

SOTR — MY THOUGHTS

I finally finished SOTR and I wanted to give some opinions. I already warn I didn't like it much (and I'm going to explain why), but I didn't hate it. just... meh. this is probably the first and last time I'm going to talk in deep about it besides making one face study or other :) as always, this is just my opinion and pls remember to respect each other's opinions! if you enjoyed the book, good for you! and if you didn't read it yet, read the book to have your own opinions on it!

I want to be fair and start with what I liked in this book:

wyatt and maysilee are great characters! wyatt honestly became my favorite in this book lol (love my little neurodivergent guy) and maysilee was written so funny! to me they honestly carried the book, I was so entertained by them

burdock and asterid 💖 they were so cute, and mind you, I was never invested in everlark or interested in katniss' parents

the little cameo of tam amber and clerk carmine raising a girl was adorable! clerk carmine in general was lovely ngl

beetee's plotline was amazing, despite heartbreaking, and I deeply enjoyed how it was written

wiress' games were SO interesting??? maybe it's me focusing on such a minor detail but I loved it

the whole plot of louella and lou lou was disturbing, maybe the most disturbing I've seen in the whole franchise, and it really struck out to me as a horror element

I understand and appreciate the attempt of trying to pass a political message for a younger audience, because let's be honest, this book was indeed written for a younger audience and there's nothing wrong with it! it's quite simplistic in the way it tries to pass it through, yes, but I recognize it was not written for me and that's okay

before going into what I disliked, I want to point out that I put the blame a bit on myself bc I had some expectations and it's natural to be disappointed when they don't happen (even if I tried a lot to NOT have expectations, I talked about this before in my blog). so read this with a grain of salt because I'm not a casual reader.

this book felt cheap. and when I say cheap, I mean that it doesn't bring new things at all. not thematically, not in worldbuilding aspects. I was already concerned when the book was announced and it was haymitch's pov because this meant it would be too much like the original thg book: a kid in D12 from the seam is reaped and goes through horrific events in the games. and in this case, it feels like a mix between THG and catching fire. and the thing is that I'm not completely against narrating the 2QQ, but there would be other ways to do it with other characters that didn't feel so overused tbh;

still on worldbuilding, it's so disappointing this book doesn't bring anything new to the table regarding panem or the districts' cultures, except for some interesting burial traditions in D12. it's confusing to me that the hunger games are still that undeveloped when it's just 25 years before katniss' games. it seems like such a short time for the efficiency of the capitol change so much. same for characters. I expected this book to have so many interesting characters (specially since we were going to have 48 tributes lol), but we have almost nothing except cameos, and the ones we have (like wyatt and maysilee) felt underused by the narrative;

I know a lot of people say that this book was a bridge between tbosas and og trilogy, but then the bridge was made out of really bad quality wood and it's about to fall at any minute. the connections felt forced and for some reason now half of D12 is covey or related to them (and I say this as someone who loves the covey). some of the connections established here make the og trilogy interactions seem a bit odd;

this book, to me, paints an idea of katniss being some sort of chosen one in thg that made me quite upset. and I don't say that for the covey relations, but oh! she actually reminds haymitch of louella, and oh! she was also the daughter of his best friend, and oh! haymitch also had a private talk about president snow not trusting in birds! the charm of katniss to me, at least, was that she was never a chosen one. she was the right person at the right time. she was a kid used as a tool. but anyway that's just me;

I know the cameos and fanservices are controversial because this book is very on the nose with it. and yeah, it's annoying, but not as annoying as the goddamned snowbaird fanservice on the sheer year of 2025. compared to the og trilogy, snow felt ooc. in tbosas it's justifiable because he's a kid, he's a teen, but here he's pushing 60. why is he telling things like this to a D12? why is he letting so many rebel discourse pass in front of his nose? in thg it felt justifiable that he wouldn't kill katniss because it would clearly turn her into a martyr, but in this, nothing really justifies why he didn't kill haymitch;

if I had the energy, I would do a whole post on lenore dove and why her character is deeply disappointing and honestly shallow (it's specially disappointing when her character is written by a woman, and still, she feels like the trope of the dead girlfriend that doesn't get depth and it's clearly there to haunt the boyfriend). there's an attempt to paint her as a strongly opiniated girl that really didn't work for me because we never get to know lenore dove outside of how haymitch talks about her. her personality felt like mixing sejanus and lucy gray, but without really caring about the nuances of both, and she's clearly an attempt to make lucy gray happen again but without what made her special;

the parallels between katniss and haymitch felt forced imo and it felt like SC was trying so so so hard all the time to convince us that actually he's just katniss but male version. and it's specially sad to me because haymitch, the main character of the whole book, was the most uninteresting one;

how do you make a book about propaganda and hume and doesn't approach career tributes at all? here, they feel exactly how they were in 74th hunger games. WHAT happened? how did they go from scared children trying to run from the arena in the 10th to this?

the writing didn't feel good. the dialogues were too expositive and didn't make sense for some adult characters (like beetee and plutarch) to talk in the way they did. I'm not going deep into this because I didn't read her other saga of books like TUC, but I have friends who pointed out exactly that this doesn't feel like how SC writes.

I want to finish this saying that I've seen some takes around saying that if you dislike or criticize this book, then it's because you didn't focus on the political message regarding propaganda and the characters were used as tools to get the message through. and I'm going to hold some people's hands and tell them to go read political books outside of the hunger games. a book's political message can be valid, but I'm not going to say it was well done or well written just because of it. after all, in the end, a book is still a book, and a book is a work that gets to be judged by its writing and structure.

this book felt like a movie script, and when I say it, I mean it was written structured like one. the way things happen, the amount of quick name drop, the chronology of events. and I say this because books and movies are different medias and are narrated in different ways. I'm going to say that I already thought it was a red flag that when the book was announced, the movie was already confirmed for 2026, but I didn't expect it to be so clear about being written for a movie. bc that's what this book is. it's a book written for lionsgate to produce a new hunger games movie. I've said it before, and I'm going to say it again: the feeling I had is that lionsgate wanted a new movie after tbosas being such a hit in 2024. but oh no! when the book came out, it was so badly received... SC, can you do a safer and much more comfortable for the audience book? one that they for sure will love. and here it is.

I didn't find it downright bad, it's enjoyable at times (the first two chapters were genuinely good imo), but it's at best 2.5 to me. it doesn't work as a standalone work, it doesn't work as part of a trilogy. this may be an unpopular opinion, but I feel like it's being so praised rn bc ppl are still hyped with it coming out (like when you eat too much sugar, yk what I mean?) and it has a lot of cameos and familiar faces. but, in some months, I def think some people will start to change their opinions once more debates rise up.

it's specially sad to me that the og saga proposed itself to criticize the death of children and the issues of entertainment industry, and people spent years saying there wouldn't be a haymitch book because it would go against the point of the trilogy, just then to... get another book about children dying in the most brutal ways (this one in specific is so much more brutal than the others, I have to say, specially with the amount of 12-13 yo tributes that appear).

suzanne collins always writes when she has something to say, but in this, she really only told us she had to pay her bills.

[kolbalissh]

wip game!

tagged by @beabnormal24 ! your carbono wip already has me wanting more UGH its so freaking good, and no doubt to it

now i myself havent been writing much at all tbh, this half written angst (?) carcar fic is all i have at the moment lmao i might keep writing it if motivation strikes again haha

anyways enjoy!

wip :

Like clockwork, Oscar woke up in a bed that wasn't his again. The scent of the sheets smelled nothing like his space but one that's become so familiar, the musky cologne and the smell of fabric softener mixed with his own gradual husk over the course of the nights he's spent here. He looks to his right, the duvet flipped over and the area empty, only the indents left on the pillow and mattress evidence that someone was indeed there.

He reaches out with his hands, softly touching and smoothing out the wrinkled sheets beside him, his pale arm stretching out first thing in the morning - or was it noon?

It doesn't matter; he knows his routine. He gets up, picks up the clothes thrown across the floor from last night, puts them on, and then goes to brush his teeth — it's odd, really. He knows to leave at the earliest, that he may overstay his welcome, but then Carlos insists that he has his own fair share of clothes, socks, toothbrushes, and other things at his place, even going as far as keeping Tim Tams in his pantry.

It made Oscar's mind go wild. He's always been good at reading others and always been good at being the one to mask his own demeanor, never letting more than just a polite smile speak for himself in any given situation. He wasn't as charming as the other man, somehow even in the wrong, people would thank Carlos for his troubles even if it was Carlos who caused much of the calamity.

But he could never read Carlos properly. The signs everywhere contradicted each other the moment Oscar thought he could come to a conclusion. One moment he's safely nestled in between his arms, drifting to the safest sleep he's had in years and the next they don't call or talk for weeks at a time. At times Oscar walks around the Spaniard's Monaco apartment in nothing but boxers and his old toro rosso shirt with a cup of warm tea, and the next he can't understand why he has to wake up to an empty bed with hardly just a note on his bedside table.

Carlos was a good person, he can confidently say that for sure, he didn't wrong him nor did he intentionally hurt the younger man, but something wasn't as straightforward for him the way it was for Oscar. Maybe it was tough accepting yourself at such a later age when you have spent so long being somebody you aren't or maybe it was a phase, maybe Carlos just wanted to experiment since he couldn't before.

But Oscar wouldn't know. You put two introverts in a room, and the walls would erode first before either spoke to each other. Oscar would like to know him more. Talk about their sisters, talk about how they spent their childhood holidays, Oscar thinks that if they'd talked they'd realize they have more in common than they think.

Though Oscar is also stubborn, his inquisitive nature wouldn't beat his ego. He'd rather stay mum for the rest of his time with Carlos than be the first to ask him about the things that have made the man he spends most of his nights with.

tagging @shrimptiger @rocketinthesky @tiredwishes ! (no pressure)

[doukeshi-kun]

this is just not so unpopular opinion from me but i cant give a shit about bsd anymore tbh....... i'm getting bored at the current pace of the manga and the plot. i don't like the way the story is written right now. i do like their banters/yapping/messages/speeches about politics and war tho. i think it's an interesting read. but for a series that is full of fast-paced action, the manga is sure slow as hell. i feel like the monthly release schedule and pages for a chapter are dragging away the intensity and tension of the supposed action in the manga. one month is enough to forget the 'hype' yk?

as someone on reddit says: "my favourite thing about bsd are everything BUT the main manga" and i have never felt validated. while i don't follow the main manga on time or as hardcore, i still consider myself a fan. i think my favourite part of bsd is gaiden and nikolai. hell, i think i've been too fixated on nikolai that i am more interested in my fanon understanding of his character rather than what canon has shown us—not that they are ever enough

so yea, not really looking forward to further chapters that much. i don't even mind spoilers or anything. i see spoilers way before i read the chapter. i feel like the story goes downhill on recent chapters but i couldn't quite put a finger on it. but i can safely say, the next half of the DoA arc is really not doing it for me. there are good moments, yes, but they all passed by so quickly and somehow, i can see characters who have fallen (i.e. the 'dead') will return back alive and well and safe.

i still don't like how fyodor's ability is not actually having something to do with lethal touch. i genuinely think his 'actual' ability doesn't give Crime and Punishment its sense and grace in a way. i mean, nikolai's ability is The Overcoat and although i firmly believe his ability is not limited to clothes/coats, it's still shown that his cloak is a big part of his use of his ability.

and besides, lethal touch is threatening in its own way anyway... making fyodor to be an ageless immortal feels like taking away the humanization in him, if that makes sense? immortal who is pure evil? pfft haa classic villain in the marvel universe. an anemic human who has a deadly yet simple ability and managed to start wars around the world?

terrifying. intimidating. human.

[barblaz-arts]

Hello!

I would like to start with the fact that your art style is amazing, same goes for the design of the characters. (They look yummy tbh)

I have been wondering if you ever got some kind of art block, if yes what did you do?

If you see this, I hope you have a great day.

Thank you!

Most of the time, when I wanna draw but cant quite know WHAT i wanna draw, I redraw stuff. Like, screenshots. Or old drawings. Or even memes. Those are especially fun for drawing expressions I might not usually draw. Or I take scenes from fics I like or fics I've written and draw them. It helps that I get to move my pen with only half the brain power needed to picture what I want drawn.

But sometimes when I really cant overcome it, I usually just wait it out. Do my other hobbies like read or write or churn up another meta analysis. You cant force yourself to overcome that block sometimes and that's ok.

Oh but sometimes tho! Something that works unintentionally is when I'm like really really upset. I dont like to show it much, bcuz I understand that I'm getting old and I have a significant amount of followers that I dont wanna be a bad example to... But I can have quite a temper on me and can get really petty. But instead of exploding, I try to draw with those feelings.

Like, a while ago, I got really upset about stuff with an AI art fraud. And im just like, you know what this person can claim they're an "artist" all they want, but they still havent even shown a paper drawing as concrete proof. all just excuses and shit. The next moment I drew this, just to reassure myself that I'm an artist and I know what being a real artist is. That unlike AI frauds, I can show I dont need a computer to draw. All I need is a pencil and paper and I'm good.

(Then I proceeded to draw more than I usually do on paper because of that lmao)

And then when Youtooz came with an announcement that they're gonna release four figurines, half of which was 2 versions of Alastor and NO sign of Vaggie, I drew four Vaggies. Yes. I drew all this angry. Until yunno. I got so happy over how nice this ended up looking instead.

And then the last art I posted with the Harem Hotel AU? That's been in my drafts since november but I only got to finish it recently because I got upset over all the people in my notifs leaving hate comments about Vaggie lmao. Just told myself that they can claim to be objective critics who arent misogynistic, but at the end of the day all they could do is leave mean comments on twitter. Meanwhile, I can create! It's borderline horny gay shit, but hey! At least I'm doin' something productive! I can show female characters like her are are worth so much love to the point of making art!

Just. Idk. Maybe next time you feel negative feelings and shit, use art as the outlet for that negativity. Make something out of it. It doesnt have to be pretty, but hopefully it could make you feel good.

Or you know. Like I said, just wait it out.