#blond flake

[anwiel13]

Moments worth to share again and again. Young Feeling B Flake with adult magazin and young Feeling B Paul crashing into the van 🤣

[endlich-allein]

Flake, Clawfinger Tour, Prague, Czech Republic, 27-11-1995 © Unknow

[her-penetrating-soul]

"It is very important to generate a good attitude, a good heart, as much as possible. From this, happiness in both the short term and the long term for both yourself and others will come."

~Dalai Lama

[shaythelittlefay]

[murdrdocs]

masturbation mention; handjobs; college!art; fem!reader; no spoilers MDNI 18+ w/ ART DOANLDSON

when art donaldson gets a boner, it's nearly impossible for it to go down. he's tried everything in the book. well, everything in patrick's book—taking a cold shower, thinking about his grandmother in her underwear, changing his position. but nothing has ever worked, leaving him to excuse himself at inconvenient times so he could fist his cock until he was satisfied.

but being here with you, art can't do that. he's already flaked on your study sessions one too many times and he really, really doesn't want to have to flake again. for a reason as trivial and embarrassing as a boner at that.

he really didn't mean for it to happen. but he just happens to be in your space, surrounded by your trinkets, watching you move around in a pair of shorts that reminded him of the pair tashi wore that night. which got him thinking about the situation he was in just a year ago. which made him imagine you and him in a situation similar, perhaps even with tashi and patrick there.

you're speaking to him. your hands are moving in patterns that art should recognize, and you're lips are moving, too. but he's distant. distracted.

he blinks twice, shaking the overgrown blond curls out of his face as he fixes his gaze on you again.

"'m ... i'm sorry. what were you saying?"

you drop your hands and place them in your lap. you look disappointed.

"dude. i'm really trying to pass this midterm."

art drops his head. he initially does it in an act of shame, but then he notices your hands resting along your glistening skin and he's suddenly made aware of his boner once more. he groans, resting his elbows into the decorative pillow covering his lap as he covers his face with his hands.

"i know, i know. i'm really, really sorry." he sniffs, straightens up, and focuses all of his attention on studying with you. but now it's you who's distracted.

you tilt your head and eye him up and down. art, worrying that you might have fucking x-ray vision or something, adjusts the way he’s sitting. he thinks he's being casual, but then he clears his throat and looks off to the side and he can hear your small 'oh'.

“haven’t tried thinking about your grandmother?”

art, embarrassed at having been caught, says nothing.

“want me to help you out?” you offer. you say it like a joke, so art laughs. but then you don’t laugh, too.

you’re staring at him, a small smile on your lips as you push your weight into your hands behind you. the twin XL bed can only allow so much room, so even as you’re leaning away from him art feels like you’re right there.

“you’re joking, right?”

you take a second, and then you shake your head.

and that’s how art ends up digging his hands into your sheets as he watches your hand glide over his cock through heavy eyes.

you’re sitting with your feet tucked under your butt, one hand scratching through art’s hair and the other working on his cock.

art’s free hand is pressing into the line of skin between your top and shorts.

you’re doing so well, making him feel so good, but you still ask for confirmation through a low voice.

“does this feel good?”

and your face is so much closer to him than he thought. your voice is right next to his ear. it travels down through him, making even more blood rush to his cock if even possible.

art nods, tearing his eyes away from your hand wrapped around his cock to look at you. but you’re already looking at him, your hand pulling on a loose curl of his while you smile. art smiles back, just before you pull him closer and press your lips to his.

kissing distracts you, so art takes over. he shifts his cock up into your hand, doing the work for you. he circles his hand around your back and pulls you closer until he can feel your breasts pushing against his arm through your shirt. whatever bra you’re wearing must be thin, because art can feel your nipples poking him.

he means to warn you. he wants to let you know before it happens. but you regain some of your focus and your thumb presses into his tip, and he’s thinking about how you told him he had a pretty dick, and he can feel your tits and suddenly his hips are lifting and cock is twitching and he’s cumming all over your hand and his thighs.

[cherry-leclerc]

the set up ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, humor, parent trip vibes from oscahhh, strangers to lovers (bc of course it is), uni!reader

word count: 2.12k

Caught up in work, you find time to join your friends at the McLaren welcome dinner; meeting a certain British driver along the way. Whom you don't make the best first impression with.

req!...oscar+lily playing matchmakers? cute cute cuteeee. quick one for my lando lovers mwahhh

It takes a lot to convince you; like—a lot. Partial credit is due to your pride, but honestly, it drove your friends mad. 

Let's go out and celebrate! Just a good ‘ol round of drinks. I have to study. Maybe next time.

Oh! I heard of this new place down the street where you custom make your own jewelry. Fun, no? I have enough already, thank you.

Five minutes—let’s just go grab coffee! Too tired. Go on without me.

“It’s my welcome dinner, mate. You can’t do this to me now.” Oscar’s brown eyes flicker between you and his girlfriend, to which she apologetically shrugs. Deep down, it's like she can forehear your excuse. An essay is due, your internship, helping out at your local library. There's been too many times where you’ve flaked, and they were starting to worry. The pile of clothes makes her wince as you greedily type away. 

“I-I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“Reckon you don’t have anything on your agenda that is as important as you make it out to seem,” he hums. Narrowed eyes burn down, flipping your screen towards him.

 Compile a series of current events…BLAH BLAH BLAH. He stops caring, already bored.

“I wish I could—seriously, Oscar—but I’m needed elsewhere.” A beat. “Lily will keep me updated! Go Mango!”

The Australian rolls his eyes, sharp eyebrows expanding with desperation. “Papaya, mate, papaya.” You giggle, mimically apologizing. The clicks continue; round eyes laser focused. He tries getting your attention once more, but you don’t look up at him at all. The driver’s girlfriend purses her pink lips, crossing her legs gingerly against the couch.

“I can help you write your paper. All of it. Just please, come with us.” Blue eyes wink back as you come to a halt, temptation swirling. “We’re your friends and we want you there. Pretty please?”

The McLaren rookie thinks it has to do with his girlfriend's cute pout, but that is so far from it. It was well known that Lily Zneimer had a wicked talent for conducting a killer research essay. From her resources, to her dialogue. It’s astonishing how smoothly it gets done too. With her, it’s a guaranteed pass. Now that was what you needed. 

Berry lips twist back and forth for a second before stretching out. “Touch up on globalization effects in different cultures and we have ourselves a deal.”

-

The paper was coming along so perfectly that you almost wanted to cry. Your eyes buzz with excitement as you jot down a row of bullet points, conversing with Lily before settling on what to write. 

“This is not what I had in mind when you both made this stupid pact,” Oscar groans for the millionth time as he passes by, spotting you and his girlfriend crouched down on a table; computer, notebook, pencils, index cards, books—everything—in hand.  

“Mate, this is worth half of my grade,” you shriek; jotting a few more possible ideas. Finally, your dazy orbs connect back onto him. “As in fifty percent.” You gag. “Do you realize how terrifying that is?”

Lily shoos him. “We’re almost done anyway, darling. Go enjoy the party.” The Australian’s jaw drops and she huffs, raising her neat brows. “Go, go, goooo.”

Despite his girlfriend and his best friend ignoring him, he has a splendid time. He curses beneath his breath when a large hand sprawls against his back. Lando laughs. “Don’t worry, my date ditched me too,” he teases, blue eyes sparkling against the fuzzy lights. The rookie sighs plainly.

“I wasn’t ditched—'' He angles his head to face back to where you and the dirty blond hunch over, whispering, attention drawn onto the bright screen. A few people even go as far as to try and take a peek, probably thinking you were working on anything McLaren. “Yeah, uh, I guess you could say I was ditched.”

His teammate rubs his watch a couple or times, nothing but music lingering between them. No one really speaks up until Lily delicately makes her way. Oscar tilts his head politely. “Done?”

“No quite yet, but she has it all under control.” She faces the British driver with a sheepish line formed between her pink lips. “Hello, you must be Oscar’s new teammate.” A beat. “I’m Lily.”

“Lando,” he can feel himself proclaiming. “I thought she was Lily…” A lousy fingers points over to you. They both let out a weak chuckle. That’s my friend from back home, Oscar confirms. Her and Lily are super close, too. She beams, light blush feathering her full cheeks.

All of a sudden—the Australian sparks up. “Come; let me introduce you two.”

The twenty-four doesn't really have anything better to do; business convos that have him apologizing profusely, cameras being shoved straight into his face, girls who never get the hint. “Sure.” 

First thing he notices is the faded scar that hugs the bridge of your nose. It's almost completely gone—and he really shouldn’t even be able to spot it—but it's there, almost a glassy color that shines back at him. He notices how quick you are at typing; navy blue, fingers flying at a constant speed. He’s impressed. Or the way you barely spare him a glance. 

“Don’t be rude, he’s talking to you,” Oscar hissed as he and Lily tower over you like a strict parent duo. You can distinguish the panic that laces through her when you didn’t first respond, too worried at making a bad impression, even if it wasn't her leaving it behind. 

“Of course, I…um, I’m sorry—shit!” The laptop blinks back at you as a warning before settling in its death. A groan slips by, hands pressing harshly against the keys, then the screen. Nervously, you look up at Lily, biting your bottom lip. “What do I do? What should I do? What should I do?”

“Charge it when we get back,” Oscar advises, still waiting for you to greet the older McLaren driver. Lando stands back amused. “As I was saying—”

“It’s due at midnight, dimwit!” It’s eleven-fifteen exactly. “I need to find a charger.”

“O-okay, lets just all calm down.” Lily turns to her boyfriend. “You always carry one with you, let her borrow it.” He winces. Only during races, sweetheart, not an important event. She rubs her temples, curly hair running against the wind. “Let’s just calm down!” she screeches.

“Not helping,” you wail. “That’s it—I’m leaving.”

Oscar is quick on his feet, already tugging you to stay firm. “We haven't even gotten to the speech!” A familiar fire rushes through your orbs, burning him along the way. I don’t give a shit about that right now! I need to turn this in. 

“I’m sure Charlotte has one,” a friendly voice slides in, leaving you three to turn and face it. Lando awkwardly shrugs. “She’s really well organized, you know her. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I go with you?”

Blue eyes shift over, surprised to hear you speak. Anxiously, you bounce up and down against your heels. He gulps. “Of course.” He turns back to the Australian, who is busy comforting his girlfriend as if it was her grade on the line. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s a sort of tension that hangs steadily—or maybe he’s the only one who thinks so—but he tries his best to push past it. Of course, he was right, and Charlotte did have an extra charger, so that’s quite nice. As if this were the one and only resource of water in a hot desert night, you immediately take it from him, plugging it fiercely.

“You don’t know how grateful I am. You’re an absolute angel.” You’re quick to pick up where you left off. If you try hard enough, you can remember exactly what you need in order to have it done in a few minutes. 

“Glad I could help.”

He should probably leave, he thinks. He’s done all he could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat across from you, contently closing his eyes as the sound of your keys brings him to a deep sleep. The sound of a computer shutting gently is what nudges him awake. You grimace. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more quiet.”

Lando scrunches his eyes, rubs them for a couple of minutes. “It’s alright. You done?”

“Yes. Just in time—you really saved my ass, thank you again.”

A large hand waves you off, reclining against his comfortable spot. “You’re pretty dedicated to your work,” he mutters.

“I sort of have to be if I want to graduate on time and on top of my game. All those sleepless nights couldn’t have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t really know you that well…but I hope you pass,” he says. “Lando, by the way—you were probably too busy to catch it the first time.” He cocks his head to the side, a cheesy grin playing out. “And the second, as well.”

You giggle, shaking his humid hand. You don’t even seem to mind. “Third times a charm, no?”

“It appears it is.”

-

The objective was quite clear; get you to leave your rotting bed. It was astounding how long you could go without getting up. You always blame it on the fact that—I’m finally done with my most important courses and I can sleep all I want—and—I never wake you up, now do I?

So, naturally, when they march into your room, flashing a phone—you curl a full brow. “What am I looking at?”

Oscar smiles. “Save his number. Right now.”

Lando Norris—winks back at you, digits causing a migraine to stir. You huff, reaching out for the blankets once again. “And why would I do that?”

Lily hums. “I tried to stop him, I really did.”

Beady eyes peek demandingly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s really just one date—”

“What?”

“And if it doesn’t work out—”

You sit up straight and agitated. “What?”

“...then you won’t ever have to see him again?” The Australian flinches at your cold stare. “He thinks this was your idea…because I told him it was, but…” He winces harder. “Don’t make me look bad and please go!”

Lily squeals when you fling up, hunting him down your flat. “I am going to kill you!”

-

The Brit beams sweetly at you, pinching his hand a couple of times to pump his circulation that was suddenly lacking. “I’m a bit surprised you wanted to see—”

“This was all Oscar’s idea.” He blinks and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I think he does it because the third-wheel act is starting to get to him. Asshole,” you hiss at the thought of the rookie.

Lando coughs, playing with his bracelets. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I want to be here.” Now it’s your turn to stare back at him, caught off guard. He chuckles. “I take it you haven’t gone on a proper date in a while?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” he yawns. “Oscar told me.”

Pounding your fist against the table, you yelp. “That little—he wants to ruin my life, I see.” You force a tight smile. “I’ve been busy with work…and…I’m—” A flash goes off; you flinch. “A total catch. Like—total.”

Blue eyes flicker to the careful watchers surrounding the restaurant. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Good,” you respond, finally allowing yourself to rest easy. You raise a sharp brow. “Don’t you get tired of this?”

A few murmurs dance across the room, blinding lights continue. He sighs apologetically. “Right now I am. Let’s get out of here?”

You blush. “The bill…”

“My friend owns the restaurant. I’ll pay him later.” He grabs your hand. “Let's go.”

The moment you slip into his car, panic rises fast. “I don’t hook up on first dates,” you spit out. “It’s not in my nature, I-I-I would rather get to know the person—”

“Then let’s get to know one another. I wasn’t looking for anything like…that,” he whispers, timidly. His blue eyes burn against yours. “I only wanted the chance to get to know you now that you don’t have your nose pressed up against a screen.”

A kind smile. “Okay.”

The more you two converse inside his crowded vehicle, the more you find yourself giggling against the rich seat. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Norris.”

“Thank God,” he jokes. “It’s working.”

Another giggle erupts when you nod. You’re sure that you're flustered, burning bright red from all his pick up lines, but you don’t have the strength to look away. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk. For real this time,” you add, sheepishly. 

“So am I.” 

And something inside of him tells him this isn’t the last.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

[redlightsw]

let’s go key!!!!!!!!

[heartfullofleeches]

Current thoughts for Femboy Assassin Housewife Yan - Yan meets Reader while carrying out a mission who mistakes him as their date for the night who ended up just flaking out on them. Reader's a lil pathetic with zero luck in their love life and just wants a break with someone cute for once in their life-

-

Reader: A... Annabelle? It's so nice to meet you in person! I remember you being blonde in your profile picture, but - I'm not complaining! Actually, I think this new colors matches your eyes better .... Though I do remember them being green.

Assassin: [internally]Ugh, how long are they going to keep yapping. Should I just leave? They would be a good cover ...

Assassin: Haha, you're so sweet....

Reader: Sorry for talking your ear off. I don't really go out much.... Especially not with beautiful ladies like you.

Assassin: ... Beautiful, you say?

[euphemiaamillais]

playing dangerous pt 1 - coriolanus snow 🎀

coriolanus snow has always wanted the perfect woman. he’s searched high and low, among the likes of heiresses and actresses, and even—though he’d never dare admit it—district girls. he’s given up hope, until he finds you. you’re perfect—innocent, beautiful and obedient. he’s been watching you for months, and one night, he just can’t resist taking you home and making you his.

cw: 18+//kidnapping//mentions of sex//eventual stockholm syndrome//eventual smut

he first caught site of you in the corso, strolling past in your little white dress and matching pillbox hat. his heart caught in his throat—you were the one. perfect, beautiful beyond compare, and as he learned over the coming weeks, completely untouched. he was desperate to make you his.

he had learned where you lived, and so, every morning, he would wait outside your apartment block, and then trail behind you and follow you on your daily chores. you went to the market most mornings, always holding some sort of shopping list, and without fail you purchased yourself a pear, which he watched you devour. his cock hardened as he watched the way your teeth sank into the flesh of the pair, mouth closing around it, and eyes fluttering shut in satisfaction. at night, he’d imagine the way your lips would look around his cock, stroking himself to the thought of you.

a few weeks later, he’d managed to learn your name. you’d met up with a friend, and he’d heard her utter it—your entire name, in fact—and afterwards he’d raced home to find any semblance of information on you. you’d recently graduated from the academy, though had made no notable achievements. he couldn’t remember seeing you in the hall, but you’d been a freshman when he was a senior. he wondered how such beauty could have passed him by.

he learned that your father was a wealthy banker who had made investments in district 4, and that you had not had any relationships of note. he’d found that out from one of your neighbours, who’d seen him looking at you from afar, assuming he was an admirer. this made his heart stir. he had to have you. he had to ruin you, before anybody else could get their filthy hands on you. and so he set out the perfect plan to make you his.

he’d moved into his own apartment, free from the prying eyes of grandma’am and tigris, and was satisfied that it would make a good home for the both of you. he fantasised about coming home from a long, hard day making connections with the well-to-do, to you cooking him dinner. once you’d eaten, you’d see how he needed to be relieved, and get on your knees. complete obedience. that’s what he longed for.

he knew he could only get it from a girl like you. you were so pure and sweet, if he could only teach you the ways of the world, show you how to please him and to know you ought to always obey him.

—

the day he planned to kidnap you was a frigid one, and he worried you wouldn’t make your usual trip to the market. but alas, you did, dressed in a thick coat lined with fur—a sign of your wealth—and a fur hat. you looked so cute, cheeks flushed from the snow that whirled around in the air. he wondered how you’d look when he drove his cock into you that night. he was so fuckin’ hard already, knowing that you were going to be all his.

it was difficult to see through the snow, and you kept shivering as you attempted to continue walking, one hand crooked above your eye to fend off the flakes. you thought you heard the crunching of feet behind you, but when you turned, there was no-one there. you must’ve been imagining it.

you made your way another few blocks, and turned into the alley, down the usual path you took. you’d never been scared to come down here before, after all, you know you way around so well. however, today was different. you heard that sound again, and when you turned around this time, you rammed straight into a tall, blonde haired man. he was so tall, and bore a foreboding smile on his face.

you attempted to back away, taking a few steps back and stumbling, but he caught you before you could land ass first in the snow. you squinted, wondering if you recognised him. there was something oddly familiar about that face; noble, with those piercing blue eyes.

‘i’m sorry,’ you attempt to shake yourself free of his grip, but his hands clamp down on your wrists, and you cry out in pain.

‘hush, quiet sweetheart,’ he gives you a look of warning, and you tremble against him.

‘please, let me go,’ you beg, but he shakes his head with a laugh.

‘i’m afraid i can’t do that, sweetheart,’ he sighs, and you begin to look around, praying that somebody will come past and help you. but nobody does. the alley is completely empty, and there’s little chance that many people will have braved the snow.

‘please,’ tears begin to well in your eyes, stinging your cold cheeks as they roll down, melting the frost on your face.

‘i’m sorry, but it’s not going to happen,’ he loosens his grip on one of your wrists, but he’s still clasped around the other so hard that it would be in vain to attempt to free yourself.

he reaches for something in his back pocket, and pulls out what seems to be a handkerchief. it’s dainty, with a little rose embroidered into the edge. is he giving you something to dry your eyes?

you don’t remember much after that. he grabs the handkerchief and holds it over your mouth and nose—the smell of chemicals is pungent. you remember blinking, trying to force the stars from your vision, and then your legs came away and everything turned to black.

—

you wake in what appears to be a bedroom. it’s beautiful, with black marble walls, a canopy bed and large french doors which lead onto a balcony with a full view of the corso. you attempt to move, but find that one of your wrists is bound to the headboard.

a searing pain comes when you try to pull at the restraint, and you give a cry of disgruntled frustration. where the hell are you? your memory is hazy; you recall making your way to the market, like you do every morning… and it goes from there.

you’re not in your coat either. in fact, you’re only in the slip you wore under your clothes, with the coat and dress neatly folded over a nearby armchair. your heart begins to pound, you’re frantic. has somebody touched you without your knowing?

your bottom lip trembles, and you feel tears welling in your eyes. it’s not long before you’re full-on sobbing, voice ringing out across the room. the doorknob turns, and the blonde-haired man from before comes in. it’s hard to make him out through the tear-induced bleary vision, but you’re certain he was there in the alleyway.

‘what’s wrong?’ he sits down real close to you, hand caressing your face. you snap back reflexively, appalled that he would dare to touch you.

‘where the hell am i!?’ you spit, and drool actually spills from your puffy lips. he swipes it up with his finger, fascinated at the waterworks. he didn’t think you were going to be such a little bitch.

‘you’re fine, sweetheart,’ he presses a kiss to your cheek, and with your free hand, you attempt to swat him away. he grabs your wrist, and restrains you. you can see his muscles flexing under his shirt, and are suddenly aware that if you tried to escape, or disobey him, he’d have just that much power over you. any shred of hope you had dissipated.

‘fine?’ you croak out. ‘fine?! you won’t even tell me where i am! or who you even are!’

you’re flailing about pathetically, and he finds himself growing angrier with you. he’d have to teach you obedience, likely fuck it into you. perhaps when you’d had a taste of his cock you’d finally understand that you were meant to be. he loved you, he really did; and he wanted you to love him too. to want to do anything for him, to obey him in every way.

‘that’s not important, sweetheart,’ he smiles, blue eyes swimming with intention. you wondered what exactly he planned to do to you. kill you, perhaps? cut your body into tiny pieces? you shudder at the thought.

‘i want to go home,’ your tears grow thick, and you force your eyes shut, not wanting to bear the shame of emotion.

he pats your head affectionately, a little crestfallen to see his girl so distraught. was he that terrifying? he knew his good looks had allowed him to get away with a lot more than the average person, but the fact that you were so outright about your upset; it struck something inside him.

‘this is your home now, doll,’ he coos, and your eyes blink open, hazy with tears.

‘please,’ you beg, voice cracking in desperation. ‘please just let me go home! i’ll do anything if you let me go home—my parents, they’ll be worried sick about me, they’ll have the peacekeepers search the cameras. if they find you, you’ll be dead!’

you hope you can scare him with your talk of death, but he remains stoic-faced, with only a small unnerving smile playing at his lips. his hand is still firmly clamped around your wrist, and you can see a faint purple ring beginning to form where he’s grasping at you.

‘oh, i don’t think so, sweetheart. you see, i’m not sure president ravenstill would let that happen,’ he warns, and you furrow your brow.

‘president ravenstill?’ you ask. ‘what do you mean?’

he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘why, i’m very close with him. i don’t think he’d have the peacekeepers bother with such a petty task when it’s just a stupid little girl who’s gone missing.’

it hurts him to call you stupid, but you were never the brightest star in the academy, having finished 62nd in your class of 70.

‘oh…’ you’re at a loss for words, while body trembling with disbelief; with anger. how dare he take you?! how dare he refuse to even tell you wear you are, and to inform you that there was no way of getting out? it was cruelty. and all he did was smile.

‘don’t look so upset, princess. i’m going to take care of you. i’ll get you something pretty to wear. i’m afraid your clothes were utterly ruined when i took you. somebody wet herself,’ he laughs at your body’s pathetic response to a threat, and now you’ve got your answer as to why you’re so bare.

‘i don’t want anything,’ you hiss, turning your head away from him in fury, but he grabs your chin and forces you to meet his icy gaze.

‘if you’d prefer to traipse around my apartment in nothing but your slip, i won’t complain,’ he eyes your bare neck and arms. ‘but i don’t want you to be cold. i’ll get you whatever your little heart desires, how about that?’

you shake your head, fat tears still rolling down your flushed cheeks. he clicks his tongue in disapproval, but leaves you to wallow in the bed.

—

he returns some time later, baring a tray of food. you had tried to sleep, and so watch him with groggy eyes. he’s smiling, and when he places the tray down on the side table, pats you on the hand.

‘i’m not hungry,’ you mutter, but the groaning of your belly betrays you. you don’t know how long it’s been, but you’d skipped breakfast that morning. it wasn’t too late, judging by the sun that was high in the sky, but you’d still not eaten since dinner the night before.

he sighs, a disapproving look in his eyes. ‘i didn’t say you had a choice, hm? i can’t have my girl going hungry.’

the food did look delicious, you had to admit. some sort of soup, and bread—it made your mouth water. but still, you shake your head.

he picks up the spoon from the tray, and scoops up a serving of soup in it. you move to turn your head away, but he uses his free hand to grab your chin.

‘open up,’ he commands. you don’t want him to feel like you’re trusting of him, but you’re wary of what he’ll do if you don’t oblige.

he forces the soup down your throat, and you swallow. it tastes delicious. you open your mouth again, hungry for more, stomach still growling. he smiles, watching as you lap up the drops he spoons into your mouth. he wonders what you’d look like, taking his cock the same way, swallowing his cum with the same wide-eyed hunger you have now.

‘good girl,’ he praises, wiping a loose drop of soup from the corner of your lips. ‘that wasn’t so hard now, was it?’

you shake your head, and presses a kiss to your cheek. you flinch reflexively, which causes him to scowl. he drags his thumb across the place he kissed, admiring the soft red mark it's left in your skin. it'll fade in a minute or so, but you can feel the imprint like it's a nagging bruise.

he reaches over to feed you the bread, breaking it up into tiny pieces and shoving it past your plump lips like you're a little bird. you're so fragile, he wonders if you'd break if he tried to take you today. no, he'll wait for that. it's frustrating, but he'll wait—he wants you to be strong enough to take him, and tell him how good he feels, pumping you with his cock.

you eat until you are full—so full that you feel sick, your stomach aches. he's delighted, a wry smile playing upon his lips. your throat is parched though, and you gesture to the glass on the tray.

'please, could i have some?' you ask, and he nods. you're not sure what it is, a dark liquid, but when he presses the rim to your lips you gulp it down.

delight flickers in his eyes, and you suddenly feel your head swimming. the potent mixture is familiar, like a heady wine mixed with sweet spices. you can't place your finger on it.

'it's posca,' he sees the quizzical look on your face, and your brows raise in alarm.

'you gave me posca! are you insane?' you cry out, already feeling your limbs go heavy from the alcohol. you're so tired.

'shh, it's only to help you sleep.' he strokes your hair, and if you weren't so exhausted, you would have forced his hand away.

your eyelids begin to flutter shut as your mouth stretches into a yawn. you can't be sure if he hasn't laced it with something, but the way you gulped the drink down means you can't tell if it's just the effects of the posca, which is usually only taken in small amounts.

'goodnight, sweetheart.' he murmurs, kissing your temple and pulling the blankets up around you. you look so innocent, stretched out in your supine form. it's almost as if he didn't kidnap you.

you shut your eyes, too overwhelmed by the alcohol to fight the sleep, but your heart pounds erratically in your ears, a reminder that you're not out of harm's way...

—

taglist: @personalque @jacesvelaryons @justacaliforniandreamer

[yes-divine-ruler]

(18+!!) ok wait so… It’s Halloween… you’re out with Tate… he can’t keep it together because your costume makes him horny.

Tate holds your hand tightly as you both venture down the sidewalk. His costume is eerily familiar. He wears a long, black trench coat and his face had been painted in likeness to a skeleton. His blonde, usually curly, hair is slicked back out of his face. His grip on your hand tightens as you pass by other people your age, some shamelessly taking in the appearance of your revealing costume. Much to Tate’s annoyance, you insisted that Halloween was the one time of year you had an excuse to dress like you were begging for it. The delicate lace that decorates your cleavage distracts Tate more than once. His cock strains against the zipper of his jeans just from lingering beside you. At times, he takes a moment to trail behind you to catch a glimpse of the mounded flesh of your ass cheeks from under your tiny skirt. You know what his game is, of course, and occasionally brush the back of your hand across the front of his jeans. Tate doesn’t take to it lightly, and after teasing him for the forth, and final, time, he has no choice but to trap you behind a big, oak tree in the park and bend you over. His fingers make quick work of your panties, tugging the thin, soaked piece of fabric down your long legs. Your ass jiggles around his hand as he sinks his fingers into your dripping cunt, curling them upwards to press against your sweet spot. “Thought you could tease me and get away with it? In that little, slutty costume?” He mumbles huskily against the shell of your ear, tickling his nose with the freshly-washed hair on the side of your head. You smelt like vanilla, and a hint of coconut. A sweet and sensual scent that had Tate moaning softly against you. Tate spits, directly onto your needy cunt, using his fingertips to spread the saliva over your pulsing clit. “Tate, please, I need you inside me,” you plead, reaching around to grasp onto his throbbing cock, sure to be staining his boxers with smears of pre-cum. Tate unveils his rock-hard length, stroking it with a mix of your arousal and his saliva. He teases you, circling your entrance with the leaking tip of his cock. Caving to his own eagerness, it’s not long before Tate is stretching you out with his girth. Your fingernails dig into the flaking bark of the tree, trying your hardest to find the leverage you need to soften each ravaging thrust. Soft whimpers turn into loud, destitute moans. Tate’s hand wraps around your mouth to stop the ruckus you’re making in an attempt to shield you from the eyes of passer-byers. “That’s it baby, take my fucking cock. You love how it fills you to the fucking brim, don’t you?” Tate’s grip on you only get tighter as he slams into your poor, little cunt, using it to alleviate his painful desire for you. Stars appear behind your closed eyelids when Tate’s free hand slithers down between your body and the trunk of the tree to stimulate your swollen clit. “Uh fuck- can feel you squeezing tight around me, let up sweetheart, you’re going to make me cum,” Tate seethes behind clenched teeth, the lewd, squelching sounds each thrust pulls from your dripping cunt pushing you both a step towards release. It’s not long before the intense pleasure of Tate’s tip nudging against your sweet spot sends you over the edge. Tate holds you up as your orgasm washes over you in big, tremulous waves. Tate growls into your hair, a few last thrust just enough for him to let go inside of your clenching walls. When he pulls out, he’s quick to pull up your panties, rubbing over the cloth to make sure his cum stays with you. “You’re gonna walk around the rest of the night with these soaking wet panties. And I don’t want to hear a single complaint. You little tease.” He tucks himself away, and taking a hold of your hand again, he begins to pace down the sidewalk like nothing happened. Even though, you can barely stand on your two feet from how weak your legs are now.

[mondaymelon]

— 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ! ₊˚ෆ | albedo, xiao, childe x gn!reader

— cw: reader thinks theyre in a one sided love, accidental confessions + d r u g s, ig? do love potions count as that. these potions dont create fake feelings, they just amplify the affections he already has for you !! fluffy :)

[ The very man you've been longing for has finally fallen in love with you !? Ah, no... Instead, does it have to do with this mysterious pink elixir they've drunk? ]

"Oh? This shade..."

ALBEDO's eyes glitter with the glass' reflections, holding the test tube up against the light. The pink fluid within sloshes inside its confinements, shimmering in the sun's rays. "Strange." With his free hand, he whips out his pencil and pad, busy writing down notes in small handwriting, evenly spaced and well lined. "This formula should've been for a health recovery potion, which is red... How come the color is so light?"

"'Bedo, I'm here." Your voice rang into the previously quiet laboratory as you fling the door open, the invading wind carrying flakes of snow along with it. The blonde's eyes narrows at the sight of the inconvenience, dipping his head in silent greeting as he walks over and closes the door behind you. "What are you doing holed up here today too?"

"More work matters." He's about to close his mouth, already moved on from the brief conversation, but instead perks up, eyes rounding the slightest. "Ah, do you think you could offer some assistance?"

"Assistance?" You trail after him, eyeing the various ongoing experiments on the other tables, up until your eyes land on the practically glowing liquid that emanates a honey-like smell. "What, do you want me to drink that?"

Albedo immediately shakes his head. "No, there's no need to endanger your safety like that. I'll do the honors of consuming it, but I'd appreciate it if you could take some observations and write them down. Is that alright with you?"

A part of you was almost surprised at the relationship "progression", if one could even call it that. You had had your eye on Albedo ever since you had managed to get yourself lost in these mountains, only to stumble upon his lab at your wits end, helplessly shivering and lashes decorated with frost. He had nursed you back to health, and then provided directions back to Mondstadt... Since then, you had made it a habit to frequently visit the quiet male, whether providing just some company or bringing a snack or two, you just wanted a way to show your thanks! Somehow, somewhere along the line, you had developed feelings for him, feelings that you were rather sure he'd never be able to reciprocate.

"That... That seems doable enough?" You blink, hesitantly grabbing the pen that lay on the desk. "Just... ah- you should worry for your own health too, y'know?"

Albedo glances at you, taking the tub in his hands. "I'll be fine." And down it goes. Silence, at first, then his legs sway beneath him. You let out a noise of surprise, instantly moving to offer support, but the male manages to steady himself on the table, instead holding his hand out to keep you away. "Aha... oh, so it was that kind of concoction..."

Sensing the exasperation in his tone only alights more concern. "Is it dangerous? H-Hey, let's lie you down somewhere, and then we can-"

Your worries are effectively silenced as his... lips fall upon yours, jewel-like irises that shone with almost unnoticeable hearts, both his hands cupping your face in a touch so delicate you could've sworn it was never there, and the warmth from his pale, burning skin..

And just like that, you heard the usually level-headed and composed alchemist cursed under his breath for the first time. "No, it wasn't supposed to be like this-"

A shy flush left kisses on his features. He had always waited for the right time for his moves, albeit unnatural ones. It was far easy acting with equations and predicted outcomes, but you... you were something so natural, you made him thoughtless so effortlessly. It took him every effort to allow his usual expression to remain on his face, to not voice his feelings. Not now, he'd chide to himself. I'm not ready.

"...A-Albedo, what..." Stupid as you may be, it'd be impossible not to realize it, especially with the way his usually cool skin flamed with heat. "...A fucking love potion?" You touched a finger to your lips, still stunned.

"I'm sorry." He's ashamed, for being unable to control himself under the potion's influence. "The antidote, it's on the table." Dutifully, you hand it to him, your fingers brushing against his in the process.

"Ah-"

"I like you."

It hurts, to hear him say those words that you've been wishing to hear for far longer than you care to admit. "...What? 'Bedo, c'mon, drink the antidote, and then we can hold a proper conversation. You're not in your right mind right now."

"I've already drunken it." Was the moment now? The empty glass falls from his hand and onto the table, rolling to a still. "I like you."

"...What? No, is the cure not working or something, what is-" It couldn't be, but his turquoise-eyed gaze was clear.

"Must I state it once more? I love you." ₊˚ෆ

"Just what is it you have you brought me?"

XIAO's brows furrow with discontentment... or rather, disinterest. You were a peculiar mortal, it was an easy enough fact to gather from his encounters with you. And while he didn't find himself particularly delighted when you appeared, calling it annoyed would be a bit of a stretch. It's a flicker of a thousand emotions at once across the mask of his expression, all but one of them displayed for your viewing - indifference.

His golden, cat-like pupils stare down the small vial you've procured and gifted him, narrowing with suspicion in your growing silence. He prompts once more, "This is?"

"Hmm, think of it as a gift?" You chuckle sheepishly, recalling the rather shady conversation you had days prior, in a small store hidden away in the very edge of the city market.

"Dearest customer, perhaps you'd like this product? It's very popular amongst the young city goers these days, and I have a feeling you've been looking for something similar."

...A scam? "Sorry, I'm not interested-"

"It works. You're in love with someone, right?"

"How did you-"

"There's this distant look in your eyes. I see it all the time. Now, if you'll just purchase this..."

And just like that, you had been probably swindled into buying a likely useless product off of his hands. At the very least, you could use it to hold a brief conversation with the aloof adeptus who often decided to not turn up at all. "It's... a thank you gift for protecting Liyue all these years...?" In the corner of your vision that greatly encompasses a wonderful view of your shoes, you spot the unwavering features of Xiao's face give the slightest waver.

"There's no need to thank me." He says it all apathetically, yet accepts the gift. "You still have yet to answer my question, however. Of what nature is this object?"

"Ah... well, you see, I don't exactly know either? You could call it a local specialty, of sorts..." You weren't exactly lying, were you? You didn't know what it was, although by it's heart-shaped container and pinkish color you could likely wager a guess or two... but it was better to remain ignorant. At least that way, you wouldn't be to blame if anything unfortunate occurred.

Oh, but was such a term the correct word to describe such a happening? Had it all gone "wrong" the moment you bought the suspicious thing, or was it when you handed it to him, watching him drain the container of its fluid? Either way, something found its way inside your heart the moment the adeptus set the glass down with enough force to hear the sound of its surface fracturing into thousands of spiderwebbed lines.

"The glass... Xiao, are you alright?" You stepped forward worryingly upon seeing the adeptus clutch his forehead with his hand, eyes fluttered shut. Don't tell me... holy shit, was it the real deal? I'm so fucked.

"You..." His voice was deep, husky, almost with a raspy note as his eyes opened to reveal his sharp amber eyes. "What did you just give me? What are you doing to... me?" He grew silent as his slight stumbling paused, a hand gripping the balcony railing for tentative support.

When you met his gaze again, his eyes shone. Gold, no longer, but rosy pink, adorned with bright pupils cut in the shape of hearts. His breaths left small clouds of white that escaped his mouth with every quickened exhale against the cold air, yet despite the chill, his cheeks and ears were dusted with an almost feverish red.

You shake your head, wanting to step closer but growing afraid. Fuck, just how were you supposed to explain yourself? After pursuing your pathetic, so-called "advances" towards the man in hopes of one day achieving a level of intimacy, in longing of hearing those three, beautiful words part from his open lips... Ah, but you've screwed it all up now, haven't you? You might as well have fed him poison. "N-No, I didn't think it would actually-"

"I love you."

It's quiet.

Or perhaps its thunderous. That is, the sound of your heart in your ears, pounding without any heed of the absolute mess of emotions coursing through your veins at the moment. This wasn't right. He didn't love you, not in the way you loved him. An illusion, this was, a painful ploy that would do nothing to sway his heart.

"...No, no." You shake your head, taking a step back, too ashamed to meet his eye. "Xiao, you don't. It's... I'm sorry.""

"No, I do love you."

What? His eyes, his astonishingly gilded eyes, they've rid themselves of their hearts, yet the words still remain in his mouth.

You blink your eyes once, and then once more. "This…?"

"Adepti are naturally immune to such a thing. To fall for such petty tricks would be foolish to the highest degree. Despite this..." Xiao sidled closer, a hand covering the lower half of his face. "Does that mean... you wanted me to love you?"

Would he leave you if he knew?If such a thing could be possible. Unbeknownst to you, the male held some sentiments of the same regard, but how to address them lay far beyond his area of expertise. "And if I did, Xiao? What then?"

"I'm not well versed in the ways of mortals, but surely, I'd do this."

...His lips were soft. ₊˚ෆ

"Ahaha, so it's a gift for me?"

CHILDE grinned with delight, seizing the bottle from your hands into his. "Pink," was his only comment as his eyes swept over the vial. "Is this... valberry juice, or something?"

"Not quite~" You smiled mischievously, aware that no matter how many questions he asked, you'd be partaking in none of them. "Besides, it's more fun if it's a surprise, no?"

"Mmm, but the cute shape of it is making me pretty curious..." Childe's voice trailed off as he ran a single gloved finger across its glass expanse, clearly enjoying himself. "Well, I suppose there's nothing else to do but 'find out', yeah?"

Hmm, would it be a pleasant discovery? You toyed with the idea and he drunk the substance. The sleazy-looking merchant that had sold you such a product had claimed to be a "magician" of some sorts. A bold claim, since you had traveled to the waters of Fontaine in occasions prior and witnessed a true magician in the act - although that was irrelevant. Either way, you had let your curiosity get the better of you, and impulsively bought it just to own the thing. It didn't require a large chunk of your wallet, nor was it completely useless... that is, as long as it was potent. If it wasn't, then you could laugh it off, saying it was something you concocted for the fun of it and he was your test subject, but on the offchance it did...

A guilty expression flitted across your face. You had held feelings for the harbinger since he had been stationed at the harbor, at first only courageous enough to gaze at him from afar, admiring the way his lips curved upwards in a smile and the way the sun's rays reflected across his deep eyes that resembled troubled waters. Somehow, one lucky incident had led to another, and now the two of you were considered friends, yet you longed for something more...

Perhaps this "potion" would help you settle things. It was time you escaped from your daydreams and delusions, time to put your heart to rest. The two of you were friends, and you should be content with just that-

"Damn, this shit is strong." Childe let out a low whistle, and you almost felt inclined to applaud him. "Sweet, too. Not bad."

"...Ha?" You shook yourself out of your stupor. Fuck, who gave him the right to look so pretty doing menial things? "So... You like it?"

"You could say that, but I think I like you more~"

"I'm... sorry?" May the archons remind you to report that man to the Millelith later for witchcraft! "Are you drunk?"

"You're a sly thing, aren't you?" Since when had he gotten so close? "Acting all oblivious now that I've caught you in your act, did you really think I wouldn't notice?" He held the now empty, heart-shaped bottle between his pointer finger and thumb, chuckling. "These things are notorious among the underworld, you know, although I certainly didn't expect this dearest friend of mine to bring such a thing to me... what a riot!"

"Ah..." All the words that you could've said in the moment seemed to fly out of your head, and now you only gaped at him, mouth ajar. "Uhm..."

"You're lucky I've been trained to be immune from 'poisons', if you could call it that. That way, I can say that it wasn't a lie."

"...A lie?"

"I like you."

"Wait, but I- I just did that to you, and you're-"

"What, that? It's funny, if anything... besides, it just shows that you want me as much as I want you, no?" ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) sigh i got burnt out near the end so childe's part is about 300 words short im sorry ginger lovers... </3 happy new year eve (timezones are so weird lmao) !! ill be posting a fic tomorrow for that too most likely sooooo watch out for that ig? it would be ever so cool if you followed me . p le a. se. im like 10 away from a big silly number and id actually give you eternal kisses if you do

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling 

reblogs appreciated !!

[anwiel13]

@tinnike 31 days idol challenge

Paul's edition

Day nineteen - in the car.

I like these photos, because it shows how much he is here for his fans, he is happy when somebody recognize him, he gladly posing for photos and giving his signature. There are so many stories of fans meet him somewhere outside, ask him for photo or signature and him being absolutely amazing and chatting with them.

Photos found on Rammstein Belgium FB

Feeling B blond Paul with Feeling B blond Flake in Feeling B (blond...) van. Such amazing are for these two blond babies. I wonder if they ever would like to go back to these time. Traveling in van, not private jets. Playing barefoot on the Hiddensee beach, sleeping on the floor or small car. If I watch videos like this one, I have this feeling they were more free, they can be careless, crazy and nobody gave a single fuck.

Imagine that, you are driving anywhere, you stop on lights, waiting for the green. You are bored, so you look to the car next to yours and you see him inside, probably Paulsplaining, giving some advices nobody ask for. I would die.

Photos found on Rammstein Belgium FB

______________________________________

Till's challenge @singfurmich

Oliver's challenge @derwahnsinn

Richard's challenge @kitthefox

Schneider's challenge @cynoodn

Flake's challenge me =)

[endlich-allein]

Rammstein — Frankfurt MTV Europe Awards 2001, Festhalle, Frankfurt, 08-11-2001 © Franziska Krug

[gh0st-in-green-c0nverse]

burned

percy jackson x gn! reader — you’re all alone in an alley in NYC. what could go wrong??

tw — violence

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You’re cold.

You’re cold and afraid, shaking in an alley somewhere in downtown New York.

You try to think about camp. About the rolling hills, the sweet strawberries, the campfire. About your friends, about target practice, the climbing walls.

Percy should be here. He should’ve been here— you check your watch — fifteen minutes ago. But he’s not, and your thoughts are running wild.

The wind howls louder. You shut your eyes.

The wound on your leg stings. You’re coiled around it, hunched forward in a meager attempt to shield it from whatever. Meet back here in 30, you’d told him. He nodded; you drew your dagger and he lifted riptide out of its sheath. And then you went separate ways, a desperate attempt to get the monsters off your trail, to confuse them by being in two places at once. It’d worked, partially, and you would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he’s not here. So you’re not fine.

There’s a commotion at the mouth of the alley, and your head snaps up.

A woman stumbles into view, smartly dressed with long blonde hair down to her waist. She notices you, and you freeze.

“Excuse me, do you have a map? I just can’t seem to—”

“y/n, no!”

Percy’s voice echoes off the walls, and your heart drops at his audible panic.

Her smile turns from airheaded to sinister. Fangs peek over her bottom lip.

Multiple things happen at once.

You lunge forward, dagger in hand, but she grabs your wrist with a vice grip. She squeezes, and squeezes, and you’re certain she’s going to snap your wrist in half when Percy rushes in, almost runs headfirst into the brick wall.

She wrenches the knife from your hand and turns it on you. Percy lifts riptide. You stumble backwards; the tip of riptide shines through her chest.

Two blades are thrusted forward. Twin gasps of pain meet your ears.

One of them sounds suspiciously like you.

The woman dissolves, dust flaking away to reveal Percy, breathing hard. His face is bruised. It’s upsetting, even though you really should be used to it by now. You just wish he would get hurt less.

Something throbs under your ribs. It feels like a cramp, but it gets worse and worse until it burns, You’re burning—

Your knees buckle and Percy runs to you. Your head doesn’t hit the ground, so you assume he caught you.

The entire left side of you is on fire. You can feel your heartbeat in your fingertips.

The delicate skin around his eye is blooming an angry red. You reach out for it weakly, and he winces when your knuckle brushes the bruise.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly.

Percy gently grabs your hand, lowers it from his face. “I’m okay,” he soothes. “I’m right here.”

Why does he feel so far away then?

His hands move again. You’re still cold.

Your eyes flutter, tongue lead in your mouth. You realize with dim fascination that he’s cradling your face. It’d be quite intimate if your vision wasn’t darkening at the edges.

“You’re gonna be okay. They’re almost here. Just… just stay with me.”

You have so many questions. Who’s they? Why are his hands so warm?

Percy’s looking at you with a fear in his eyes that shakes you to your very bones. His eyes rake over your face as if he’ll never see you again. You still don't understand. All you know is the sinking feeling in your chest, the creeping nothing in the corners of your eyes, and the dull ache in your side.

You don't remember closing your eyes, but you do remember Percy shaking you.

“y/n,” he pleads, voice trembling in a way that you haven't heard before. “It’s alright. Just open your eyes for me, yeah? Please— please.”

He’s shivering. You feel absolutely horrible about the whole ordeal, despite your very limited understanding of the situation. You want to assure him it’ll probably be fine, that you’ll bounce back because you guys always bounce back, but this time you’re not sure.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp, the words sandpaper in your throat.

The darkness swallows you whole.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

lmk if I should write a part two? I dunno if anyone will read it

[tteokdoroki]

𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — bakugou brushes his thumb over your lips whenever he feeds you somethin’ :(

you’ll be out on dates and he’s not usually one for massive displays of affection in public unless someone is getting a little to handsy with you — but katsuki will offer you up a piece of his pastry or a bite of his cake because he already knows you’ll ask at some point. you love this bakery, and everything in it and usually the blonde has to limit you to one goodie per trip or otherwise he would end up buying you the whole store ( he spoils you and won’t deny it ).

“mmh, kats, that was so good, why didn’t you order me one? you know i would have liked it—“ you chirp, biting through the croissant on his plate.

so while you’re chattering away and devouring both yours and bakugou’s sweet treats he just leans over the table and swipes at the flakes of pastry on the corner of your mouth and the chocolate melted over the swell of your bottom lip. “i didn’t order ya one ‘cause i knew you’d eat mine too,” he explains, eyes all soft when he looks at you like you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. “b’sides you would’a started moanin’ about how yer tummy hurts or somethin’. i know you.”

the blonde shuffles back into his seat, leaving you dumbfounded and hot in the face as he sucks the remanence of the pastry off of the fingers he’d used to wipe your face.

“what was that for?” you don’t miss the way he watches you lick your lip instinctively, squirming in your seat under his lovesick gaze. “do i look like a baby to you?”

“yer a messy eater, sweetness and you do. my baby.”

you scoff and dab at your face with a napkin to avoid being flustered by your boyfriend again, the one that slings his arm over the back of his chair— leaning back all stupid and sexy with his legs spread too.

“and who’s fault is that? that i’m a messy eater?” you tease, sticking your tongue out at katsuki.

he leans forward once more, right up in your face and gently grasps your tongue— to people passing the cute little Parisian cafe you probably look like one of those gross kissy-kissy couples but you’re happy luring this more playful side of your boyfriend put. “i should quit stuffin’ your mouth with pastries ‘n started usin’ my fingers instead. specially if yer gonna keep brattin’ me like this, gorgeous.” bakugou grins nice and easy, amusement erupting in his dormant red eyes like a volcano waking up from a thousand year slumber. “you gonna behave, yeah?”

once he lets go, you slump back in your chair with a pout, crossing your arms and looking away from the blonde. “yeah yeah, whatever,” but an idea flashes across your mind and you’re quickly directing your signature puppy stare right at him. “i’ll be on my best behaviour if you get me another pastry-!” you sing sweetly.

and bakugou knows he’s not the strongest man, saying no to you is never easy. so he rolls his eyes and stands up, grabbing your plate to head back inside of the cafe and order you two more of those sweet little treats.

“i spoil you way too fuckin’ often.” he says softly, kissing your forehead as he goes.

“that’s true,” you comment back. “but you love me just as much, right?”

“now that’s true,” katsuki mumbles. “i do.”

[realbeefman]

robert chase one of the characters of all time. hes blonde. he went to seminary school. he purposefully murdered a patient. he’s a vapid slut. allergic to strawberries. was caption of his college bowling team. desperately needs to be on antidepressants. he’s divorced. his ex-wife was/is in love with his dadboss. it’s heavily implied that this is part of why he married her to begin with. he’s been fired multiple times but he keeps coming back like a fucked-up obedient boomerang. he’s the best surgeon in the hospital. all this while having the personality of a sopping wet cardboard box of corn flakes that somebody poured milk into and let mildew.