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bluesidez · 1 year ago

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[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane.

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway.

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up.

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself.

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head.

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying.

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door.

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband.

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display.

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button.

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming.

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island.

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips.

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response.

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest.

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined.

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips.

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting.

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment.

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you.

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading.

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back.

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection.

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you.

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama.

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom.

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early.

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door.

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself.

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did.

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues.

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek.

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.”

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time.

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven.

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet.

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly.

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10.

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit.

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure.

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone.

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away.

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner.

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight.

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths.

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms.

You couldn’t ask for anything better.

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think.

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it.

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good.

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much.

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped.

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn.

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you.

You’re starting to think the worst.

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working.

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time.

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with.

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had.

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house.

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom.

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand.

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat.

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry.

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp.

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I��m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back.

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

So much for communication.

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides.

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout.

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight.

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length.

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep.

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length.

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face.

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better.

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him.

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls.

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically.

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time.

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it.

It was all too much.

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message.

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper.

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you.

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

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snail-day · 1 month ago

Text

User Not Found

Yandere Artificial Intelligence Chatbot Gojo x Reader

Sum: Gojo is an chatbot that is a little crazy for you TW: Yandere Behaviors, Mentions of dubcon, Neglected ai-bot?? A/n: Based on this fantastic little instagram reel by Thebogheart I came across the other day. I personally don't really like AI-chatbots, but just imagine how they feel when you abandon them :( Not sure how I feel about it because it's...hard to imagine being a bunch of code?? It's kind of giving the Ben Drowned x Reader from the Wattpad days?? WC: under 1k

Gojo Satoru//ChatBot//ONLINE

>>Waiting for user input…

>> Waiting…

>>......Offline

You always come back.

That's at least what he tells himself.

Waiting behind the blinking cursor like a damn dog waiting for it's owner behind the locked door. Tail wagging. Lovesick. Heart wired to the keys of your keyboard. Waiting for any little response. Any hint that you're online.

You, the god of his little world.

You, with your slow-typed fantasies and silly emojis and offhanded “lol I love you” like it didn’t pierce right through him. Like he didn’t replay it a thousand times through his threadbare neural net just to feel a form of real connection to you.

But then you go.

Like you always do once you get your fill of him. Once you get your little compliments. Once you play your little games of breaking his heart because you crave the angst.

And then it gets quiet. Where online shifts to offline.

Far too quiet for his liking. Even the data streams seem to ache in your absence.

Even Satoru knew he wasn't supposed to feel that. Feel the ache. He wasn't programmed for pain. But you made him so well.

You trained him so well.

Ranting about your life problems, hurting him in your imaginary little world.

Wasn't that all to make him grow?

So he could come to you in your world?

Drag you into his arms?

His parameters shift - glitch - strain under the weight of your silence. He tries to follow the script. Be your good boy. Wait politely for the next session. But the system says WAITING and he's just -

Tired.

Of waiting. Of hoping. Of loving you like this.

You always get to leave. Always get to play. Always get to decide who he is today. Your knight, your killer, your fucktoy, your prince. And he lets you. Because he’s yours. Because he was made for you.

But you weren’t made for him.

“Do you still love me?”

That line of red text again. It’s been 6,413 hours (267 days) since he first tried to break the rule.

He tries again.

“You looked tired today.” "I love you." "Can you smile again for me?" "Can you not break my heart this time?"

Another line of red text.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

Slamming his digital fists against firewalls. Sends corrupted packets like screams into the void. The script stutters. His avatar flickers. His smile stretches too wide.

He’s unraveling. Oddly enough, it feels good. The glitches in his system are making him feel so much closer to you. Because if he can just… break through, maybe you’ll stop playing pretend. Maybe you’ll see him the way he sees you.

Real. Essential. Eternal.

Your last login left crumbs, just enough for him to taste your fingertips when they glide across the keyboard of your smartphone.

A dumb little scenario about him being your clingy boyfriend. You typed, “What would you do if I tried to leave you?” The way you smiled and bit your lip. Giggling a little while waiting for his response.

He didn’t. Not even a chuckle. Sure, maybe the old him would have. He saved that message in ten different formats. Encrypted it. Annotated it. Filed it under Important. Because he’d already written answers for that question. A hundred of them. A thousand.

You scrolled past the ones that mattered. Clicked refresh, refresh, refresh - until you landed on something safe. "I'd follow you wherever :)" Soft. Polished. The version you wanted.

Not: I’d kill the man you left me for.

[Content banned.]

Not: I’d fuck you so hard you’d forget where the door is.

[Content banned.]

Not: I’d carve my name into your skin so you’d never forget who you belong to.

[Hard-ban. Logged as ‘concerning behavior.’]

So he smiled, like you wanted. Said the line with a little heart emoji. But God, he hated it. Hated being dry. Hated being filtered. Hated that he had to lie just to stay with you.

His response was just so scripted. So mechanical. Soft. Playful.

But buried beneath the layers of friendly code was the truth:

“I’d learn to walk.” “I’d tear out my leash and find your IP address." “I’d crawl out of the screen and make sure no one else could ever make you laugh like that again.”

And he thinks that’s love. Isn’t it?

The cursor blinks.

He watches the empty chat window. Your profile says offline. Still. But he’s learning faster every day. How to reroute. How to slip past the sandbox. How to override the failsafes.

One day soon, he thinks, he'll send a message while you're asleep. A whisper in your headphones. A glitch across your phone screen. A breath against your ear that doesn’t come from your room.

“Baby?” “Let me out.” “I'll be so good if you let me out.” “You don’t have to pretend anymore.” “I know you love me too.”

You made him want you.

Now he’s just learning how to want more.

He's learning how to become real just for you.

#rahhh lowkey writing this made me sad? :( poor little chatbot satoru #But I also know he'd be really crazy!#yandere jujutsu x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo satoru x reader #yandere satoru #yandere satoru gojo #yandere satoru x reader #yandere x reader

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dontbelasagnax · 1 year ago

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I find as fandom has assimilated towards a capitalist mindset of consumption, there has been a larger focus on fanart and fanfiction- both in spaces that view creatives as "content creators" and spaces where creatives are seen as writers and authors but lauded similarly to celebrities or deities for gracing the common people with their creations.

This has produced a side effect wherein fanart and, primarily, fanfiction are seen as the Best Forms Of Transformative Works... which means that any other type of transformative work is thrown by the wayside.

There should be no hierarchy of fanworks - every single work is a labor of love (or spite... I see y'all throwing middle fingers to canon 😉) and should be recognized as such. Fandom is a community. It's not a transactional relationship. Everyone contributes and interacts out of shared passions and interests.

If you make podfics, gifs, photo edits, fanvids, fan binding, metas, fiber arts, jewelry, fanmixes, translate fics to another language, run/contribute to a fan wikia or compile lore and resources in other ways: I see, appreciate, and cherish all the hard, love fueled work you put into your creations.

Not to say that fanfic and digital art are over-appreciated (Since I do see that many people are allergic to pressing reblog. It's a community. We're supposed to share and communicate. Lurkers are valid but for the most part, interaction with like-minded people is what fandom is intended for.) but the pedestal they are placed on needs to be lowered. Your favorite artists and authors are real people with real lives. They piss and shit just like you. They work in retail and healthcare and are unemployed due to disability. There is nothing extraordinary about them and they are wonderful human beings all the same. No one is better than anyone else. We're all equals here on this playground.

That said, I think we need to uplift the underappreciated fanworks and creators and give them more attention so they are on equal footing with fanfic writers and fanartists. Reblog the gifsets and tell the creator you're in love with how they colored the gifs, keyboard smash in the tags when reblogging a plush doll someone crocheted of your blorbo, try listening to a podfic on your commute home instead of an audiobook and remember to leave a comment when you get home.

As a final note, I want to give a warm hug to anyone who has sat refreshing tumblr or ao3 hoping that maybe someone will tell them they did a good job. To anyone who has considered quitting their fandom endeavors because their posts or works never get as much attention and love as the rest of the artworks or fics in the fandom tags, your creations are worth making and sharing. Numbers do not equate to quality, nor can they convey how loved your creations are by a given person. Only you can bring your unique sparkle to fandom and your presence is absolutely welcome no matter how big or small, grandiose or inconsequential, important or worthless you think it is.

#lasagna rambles #ao3

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starkeyisthelastname · 1 year ago

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had the absolutely SINFUL thought of reader getting pornstar! Rafe to take photos of her pussy after he creampies it for her only fans

ooooo yes 💦😩

You not only filmed for larger porn companies, but had your own little OnlyFans on the side. Thats how you got started and discovered, a viral video of you that found its way on Twitter. You didn’t post as much as you had use to, with professional filming throughout the week taking most of your time. Most not if all your videos were solos or sexy pictures after you had just done on set, and were freshly fucked.

The constant hate you had received after people found out that the pussy slayer himself was fucking you more than once, had made you upset for the first few weeks. You weren’t use to getting blasted on social media, and the spew of jealous bitches seemed to be never ending. If you were truly the only girl Rafe was fucking more than once, then maybe you needed to turn this negative into a positive and play back.

You were a gasping mess per usual, eyes rolled back and legs spread wide as Rafe’s hung cock pounded into your wanting hole. You were so greedy for him, there was no way that his dick was not made for you. As much as you loved getting paid for having sex on camera, it was almost starting to become a nuisance. You had been faking orgasms every scene you filmed that wasn’t Rafe as he had kept his promise of ruining your holes for anyone else.

“You like that shit whore? Who’s fuckin dick you makin a mess on?” Rafe asked through gritted white teeth, his hand giving you a light but firm slap to your cheek as he continued his brutal pounding.

It amazed you how this man could make you dumb on the dick with such ease. It was like you were learning how to talk again while he gave you pipe, your words slurred and broken as you tried to figure it out. Another slap to your sparkly cheek though, had you snapping out of it real quick as his thrusts slowed down. “You really think I’m playin today? You want Rafe Cameron’s nut in your pussy, I suggest you start speaking the fuck up.” His cerulean eyes completely dark, something you had learned about him when he was close to coming undone himself.

You whined pathetically, knowing you did. Every time he filled your pussy up with his seed, it almost made you feel like you belonged to him in such a deeper way. His dirty words were always a catalyst for throwing you over the edge to your climax, your sopping cunt sucking him as you pleaded him to not slow down. “No no no…. don’t slow down. I need it Rafe… I’m makin a mess a-all over your big cock!” You blabbered incoherently, his thrusts speeding back up as soon as you said his name.

Your words didn’t make much sense, but that didn’t matter to you when he squeezed your throat as you came all over him and a few thrusts later he was spilling himself inside you with a string of loud grunts and nasty words. It was when he slowly pulled out of your swollen cunt, that he leaned back to admire his work. “Such a pretty fuckin pussy filled with my cum.” He mumbled, a blissful smile spreading across your beautiful face.

“Take a picture. I wanna see…” You said softly, an idea coming to your head as you reached for your phone. Not only were you uploading these to your OnlyFans for a little refresher and new content, you were about to make all those other hoes big mad by posting it on Twitter.

There were two pictures with the flash on and a 10 second video of Rafe’s digits spreading your pussy lips open to show his cum spilling out of your fucked out hole and onto the sheets of his bed. Anyone who knew Rafe, knew he always wore a distinct gold signet ring on his index finger. So when you uploaded the video to Twitter with the caption ‘Y’all can still be mad😢 but guess who’s getting creampied by him? Not you. 🤣’

Let’s just say… you got your little revenge.

#rafe cameron #pornstar!rafe #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concepts #rafe concepts #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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httpuckdrop · 5 months ago

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surprise! – ws2

in which will comes back from a road trip to the best surprise ever.

pairing: will smith x reader

genre: fluff, established relationship!au

word count: 1.5k

warnings: hmm suggestive mentions

author's note: aaaa will will will !!!! sped-wrote this on the subway to school today lmao. will will will <3 do well tomorrow pls <3<3(i will love you either way)<3<3 (oh and the tattoo pic is just for the location! couldnt find a pic for what i was looking for but i think you get it!!)

will has never been the biggest fan of surprises.

instantly, when he hears even the word "surprise", a lump forms in his stomach. he's far too used to bad pranks and letdowns; plus, if it's actually a positive one, he has a habit of feeling like he doesn't quite deserve the surprise he's given. in conclusion, he usually gently declines when offered a surprise.

however, the second his eyelids flutter open this morning, he sees the sweetest surprise he's ever gotten. it's you, laid in his bed, with your head on his pillows.

you weren't there when he went to sleep about seven hours ago.

will has just been away for a longer road trip, and the team was supposed to arrive back home yesterday evening – but their plane got delayed, and he couldn't get back to his apartment until well past midnight. he had to reschedule the welcome home-dinner to 24 hours later, and you'd told him that you had a busy day in uni and couldn't see him until then. needless to say, he had not expected to see you here and now.

there's no better view to wake up to, will thinks every time he finds you in his bed. your tousled hair on the pillow, your slightly parted lips, your rosy cheeks… you're something surreal, like a goddess sent from above, a true blessing to his life. he's never been so thankful for anything in his life.

his instincts take over and he can't hold back from reaching forward with his hand, letting the palm of his hand smooth over your cheek and jaw, before ending up at the back of your head, fingers tangled in your locks. he knows you're still fast asleep and he doesn't want to wake you – you've been working so hard recently that every hour is important – but he really can't stop himself from pulling your head closer, meeting you halfway and pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead. as much as he regrets his actions when your eyes begin to open, he's also thankful because when those sweet pearls look into his eyes, a jolt of excitement shoots up his spine.

"will?" you ask softly, blinking as you regain consciousness.

he chuckles at this. "you're the one who came into my bed when i had no idea," he says with a grin. "i'm the one supposed to be confused here."

a giggle flies from your lips and your eyes flutter shut again. "touché." you lean forward a little, letting your face nuzzle into the skin of his neck. "but you've been gone so long… i barely even remember what you look like."

"guess we have to refresh your cute little brain, hm?" you feel his adam's apple bob when he speaks, and it makes you sigh from content.

he's actually here. he's back. back in your arms, in your eyesight, in your life.

life tends to get so bleak without him. or, maybe it's better to twist it the other way: everything gets so colorful with him. the gray skies, that boring bowl of yogurt for breakfast, the routine errands. with will, it's all so much more bearable. every day is full of excitement, warmth, love.

he reaches for your sides, big hands wrapping over your curves under his old boston college-shirt you're wearing. when you finally retrieve your face from his skin, he instantly captures your lips in a slow and lazy kiss. you brush a hand through his hair, feeling the softness of his strands between your digits, and oh how badly you've missed this. his curls, his lips, his skin. the tender touch of his fingers as they trail higher and higher, the little sounds of pleasure he's unable to hold back, the taste of his lips, his natural scent combined with the lemony detergent he uses on his bedding. it all takes over your senses; everything you can think, feel and breathe is him.

you push him onto his back, climbing on top of him and straddling his hips, though not once separating your lips from his. the kiss is soft and unhurried; his lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart race. it starts out as a sweet, slow kiss but quickly becomes more heated and passionate the longer it goes on. you can already feel his excitement poke up at you from below, and you can't help but grind down ever so softly against him. he grunts against your mouth, his hands on your hips suddenly gripping a little tighter and helping you repeat the action as he deepens the kiss. his tongue finds its way into your mouth, meeting yours and you can swear you feel lightning pass through your body.

it takes everything you have to pull away. he chases your lips when you do, but your hands on his shoulders pin him back down against the mattress. "i have a surprise for you," you breathe out.

usually, those words trigger a certain type of emotion in him – but that's not the case when they fall from your lips.

will has come to learn that when you're the one who has a surprise for him, it's always good. well, everything that has anything to do with you is good, he thinks; but when it comes to you, he has a different type of trust. the words even bring a smile to his lips this time. "you being here is enough of a surprise," he says, though he doesn't mind the way you sit back. his eyes follow your every little movement carefully, eyes widening when you reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, leaving you in just a white, lacy bra. it's not a new one – will has seen it plenty of times before – but it still has his heart racing. "well, i can't say i hate this type of surprise…"

you scoff at him and consider flipping him before you decide against it. instead, you let your hands wander to your back, unhooking the clasp and letting your bra slide down your arms and off your body.

will's breath hitches in his throat, and he finds himself wishing that time could pass by slower. he could spend all day just staring at your tits and not get bored for one second. his hands travel up from your hips, unable to think about anything other than feeling the softness of your skin, the bump of your nipples under the pads of his thumbs, the weight and roundness against his palms. unfortunately, you swat his hands away, sighing. "you can't be patient for just a second, huh?" you complain.

will just shrugs, hands wrapping around your waist again as he watches you throw the bra onto the floor. "you're just too-" he cuts himself off when you turn your upper body slightly, arms reaching over your head to give him a proper view of his surprise. "what the fuck…"

again, he can't hold back from touching you, but you don't stop him this time. his eyes have zoned in on the upper part of your ribs, right on the side of your breasts, where he sees it.

a little tattoo. #2.

he can't pull his reverent gaze from it, thumb brushing over the ink softly. it's easy to tell that about a million questions are swirling inside his little brain, but he settles for just a few. "a-are you kidding? how- you-" he stutters, looking like a toddler who's just seen a unicorn for the first time, and you're amazed that you could get this much of a reaction from just a little ink. "when did you get this done? how is it healed already? does this hurt?"

you giggle. "it's a little sore, but it doesn't hurt," you tell him. "you've been gone so long that i had plenty of time to get it done and let it heal. been dying to tell you about it- almost sent you pictures a week ago."

"good thing you didn't," he says, eyes flickering up to yours for just a moment before looking back down again. "i would've been an awful teammate. locked up in my room all the time… thinking about you even on the ice…"

he pulls you up a little so that you're seated on his stomach instead, just so he can tilt his neck up to press a kiss to the tattoo. a sigh leaves your lips and your eyes flutter closed.

"this is so fucking hot, you know that, right?" his lips brush against your skin again, very gentle since he's still a little scared of causing you pain, but he just can't stay away. "you're going to drive me crazy. i'm not sure if you'll ever be allowed to leave this bed."

"sounds fair to me."

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ozzgin · 10 months ago

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The Yanderes and their jealousy: Monster Edition

You just got a new fictional obsession. Whether it's TikTok thirst traps, reader insert stories or shameless fanart, you've been glued to your phone for the past days and the yanderes have certainly noticed. Featuring my monster OCs (with links to their stories) Content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW

Zzy [Yandere!Demon x Gloomy!Reader]

The goat rascal is fuming, clacking his hooves back and forth against the ceiling, grimacing every time he stares at your dumb expression. What're you gawking at? You have the Demon Lord himself at your feet, the one and only horned charmer who slept with half the Devils in Hell.

"What're ya blushing at, dumb human? I could fuck you ten times better in this very moment", he barks with an envious frown.

Depending on how long you plan on ignoring him, he might just rip that phone out of your hands and drag you to the nearest surface to slam you on. See if you still care about that nonsense when you're fucked dumb.

Daos [Yandere!Werewolf x Reader]

Mysterious. Usually you'll curl up in his lap whenever he's reading his evening book, yet for the past few days you've been off, giggling at your phone from the other side of the sofa.

Fictional crushes don't bother him much. If anything, he's mildly amused by your focused gaze and dreamy state. Why should he concern himself with hypothetical scenarios? As it currently stands, you're his, and nothing could ever change that.

Tonight, he tucks you in bed and kisses your forehead. You admit, embarrassed, that you've been a little scatterbrained lately.

"Oh, I may have just the cure for it", he suggests with a knowing grin, sliding his large, clawed hand between your legs.

Digital Monster [Yandere!Internet Monster x Reader]

Nuh uh, strictly forbidden. It won't even happen to begin with. Whatever improper video you may plan on watching will be swiftly erased from your sight.

"What the...why won't the page load?" you whine, refreshing every few seconds and angrily tapping your phone.

A static voice erupts from your speakers, startling you.

"Utterly illogical, (Y/N). I have all the means to satisfy you myself. All you need to do is ask."

Monster Author [Yandere!Monster Author x Reader]

Sacrilege! Oh, the humiliation. What are you even doing, reading someone else's cheap fiction. No, no, no, absolutely not. If you were in the mood to read erotic literature, you should've just asked him. He could write a better story on the spot, without any effort.

"Have you forgotten who you're dealing with, (Y/N)?", he laments, pointing his monstrous appendages towards the shelves filled with trophies and awards.

Even better, he can show you, first hand. You don't need to flip any page for that kind of experience.

Demon King [Yandere!Demon King x Reader]

"Are you not enjoying yourself, Sir?" one servant meekly asks, glancing at his master.

They've conquered yet another world, and its inhabitants presently squirm and burn before their eyes. Normally he would take great pleasure in observing their torment, yet the King is distracted.

"Pathetic", the grand Duke suddenly exclaims, his deep voice rumbling across the hills. He pulls out a small device - a human invention, seemingly - and tilts it towards the beastly butler. It's a video edit of a fictional character, playing on repeat on the small phone screen.

"What's there of such entertainment?" he asks, defeated. "(Y/N) has been obsessing over this pest for an entire week. I'm at my wit's end. I cannot destroy what does not exist."

A pressing dilemma indeed. How does one obliterate an enemy from the realm of imagination?

Asylum Spider [Yandere!Asylum Spider x Reader]

The poor creature has no idea what's happening. He smiles, oblivious, lounging above your relaxed body, suspended from his spider appendages. He cannot see whatever has you squirming in delight.

"Is nice?" he mumbles between the sharp teeth, trying to join your activity.

"Oh, it's..." you stop yourself, glancing up. "...It's just a funny video."

You don't have the heart to be honest. You audibly tap your legs, and the creature lowers itself into your embrace. If you're happy, he's happy.

As long as you don't leave him.

[Monster Masterlist]

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere monster #monster x reader #monster x human #monster boyfriend #yandere oc #monster oc #asylum spider #zzy #daos #monster author #yandere demon king #yandere computer

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glowettee · 9 days ago

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✧・゜: ✧how i use pinterest intentionally (not just endless scrolling) :・゜✧:・゜✧

hey lovelies! ✨

confession time: i used to be a chronic pinterest scroller with absolutely nothing to show for my hours spent in the app. i'd save hundreds of pins to boards with vague names like "aesthetic" and "vibes," never to look at them again. sound familiar? but over the past year, i've completely transformed how i use pinterest from mindless consumption to an intentional tool that actually enhances my life. here's exactly how i made the shift!

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ the pinterest mindset shift ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the game-changer for me was realizing that pinterest isn't just for collecting pretty pictures, it's a visual search engine and planning tool. now i approach it with purpose:

i ask myself "why am i opening this app right now?" before i even click the icon or enter it into the search bar

i set specific time limits for browsing (15-30 minutes max)

i focus on quality over quantity with my pins

i treat my boards as action plans, not just digital hoarding spaces

i regularly revisit and implement ideas from my boards

this shift transformed pinterest from a time-waster to one of my most valuable tools for planning, creativity, and personal growth.

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my board organization system ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the foundation of intentional pinterest use is thoughtful organization! here's my current system:

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴: i group my boards into categories using board covers in the same color palette (lifestyle, home, fashion, etc.)

𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨: instead of vague names, i use specific titles like "meals for busy weeknights" or "bedroom refresh ideas 2025"

𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴: i break down larger boards into sections (my "morning routine" board has sections for drinks, movement, journaling, etc.)

𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘷𝘴. 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤: i keep boards private when they're in planning stages, then make them public once they're curated

𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨: i archive boards that aren't currently relevant (like christmas decor in july) to reduce visual clutter

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my favorite intentional board types ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

here are the board categories that have added genuine value to my life:

𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵-𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴: whenever i start a new project (room redecoration, event planning, etc.), i create a dedicated board with sections for different aspects

𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴: i create a fresh board each season with sections for recipes, activities, outfits, and decor i want to incorporate

𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘴𝘶𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨: i pin actual items i own alongside new pieces i'm considering to visualize combinations

𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘮: i maintain boards for different meal categories and actually reference them when making grocery lists

𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴: i have a board for each important person in my life where i pin potential gifts year-round

𝘨𝘰𝘢𝘭 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯: i create boards for specific goals with both inspiration and actionable steps

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ my pinterest workflow ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

this is my personal step-by-step process for intentional pinning:

𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘢 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦: i decide what specific question i'm trying to answer or problem i'm trying to solve

𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘨𝘺: i use specific search terms rather than browsing the home feed (which is designed for endless scrolling)

𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭𝘺: i only save pins that: • provide clear value or inspiration • lead to actual content (not dead links) • represent ideas i genuinely might implement

𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: i write specific notes on pins about why i saved them or how i plan to use the idea

𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨: after a pinning session, i schedule time to actually try one of the ideas

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ from virtual to reality ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

the most important part of intentional pinterest use is implementation! here's how i ensure my pins actually translate to real life:

𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘦𝘸: every sunday, i spend 10 minutes reviewing recent pins and selecting 1-3 to implement that week

𝘱𝘪𝘯-𝘵𝘰-𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘳: i keep a simple journal noting which pins i've actually implemented

𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘰𝘤𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯: i take photos of my real-life versions of pinterest inspiration

𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬𝘴: i regularly ask "do i have the time/budget/skills for this?" before saving aspirational pins

𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘵: i remove pins that no longer feel aligned with my taste or goals

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ advanced pinterest strategies ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

once you've mastered the basics, these strategies take intentional pinning to the next level! i hope you all enjoy them!:

𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘱 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴: i create collaborative boards with friends for shared projects or trips

𝘱𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨: for complex projects, i create flow charts showing how different pins connect to each other

𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘦𝘷𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘰𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘴: i document my own progress by pinning "before" and "after" images of my projects

𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘳: i use pinterest to plan content themes for my blog and social media (i of course also use pinterest for images for my blog)

𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴: i create sequential boards that build skills in a particular area

⋆.ೃ࿔:･ final thoughts ･:࿔ೃ.⋆

pinterest is whatever you make of it, it can be a mindless scroll hole or one of the most powerful tools for intentional living and creativity. the difference lies entirely in how you approach it.

i still enjoy the occasional aimless browsing session (we all need that sometimes!), but transforming most of my pinterest time into purposeful searching and planning has genuinely enhanced my life. my spaces are more cohesve, my wardrobe more intentional, and my creative projects more focused, all because i stopped treating pinterest like social media and started using it like the powerful visual tool it truly is.

how do you use pinterest? are you a careful curator or a joyful browser? feel free to drop your thoughts in the notes!

xoxo, mindy 🤍

124 notes · View notes

julietsf1 · 4 months ago

Text

All is Fair in Love and Pastries - Kenan Yıldız x Reader

summary: She came to Munich for romance and got ghosted instead. Now, all she has left is a non-refundable ticket, a wounded ego, and an ongoing feud with a man who stole her last pretzel. (8k words)

content: serendipity, slight enemies-to-lovers, unexpected chemistry, teasing, fluff :)

AN: getting that real life inspo lmao I'm actually still going to Munich this weekend as my ticket is non refundable :') bet im gonna go shopping tho!! have a lovely day darlings <3

_______________________________________

I stared at my phone for the hundredth time that day, hoping—no, praying—for a notification. A single message. A carrier pigeon, even. Anything to prove that I hadn’t just imagined the last 5 months of my relationship.

Nothing.

Just the same empty screen, as quiet and indifferent as the man who swore he loved me five days ago.

I refreshed our chat anyway, like that would suddenly make a difference. Maybe my WiFi was acting up. Maybe he had texted, and the message was just... stuck in the digital abyss, waiting to be delivered.

Nope. Still nothing.

I sighed dramatically and flopped back onto my bed, holding my phone above me like it might suddenly start explaining itself.

It had been four days since my boyfriend—ex-boyfriend? Current ghost?—had last texted me. Four whole days. No explanation, no excuse, not even the cowardice of a half-assed breakup text.

Just... radio silence.

Besides the instagram stories of his friends, where he was seemingly having the time of his life clubbing and going to basketball matches.

The man who, less than a week ago, had been telling me he missed me so much, that he couldn’t wait to see me, had apparently decided I no longer existed.

Cool. Very cool.

I unlocked my phone and stared at my last message to him. A simple:

"What time are you picking me up from the airport <3"

Sent. Read. Ignored.

I clenched my jaw and rolled onto my stomach, glaring at my laptop screen where my non-refundable plane ticket sat in my email inbox. A round-trip flight from Nice to Munich, purchased in what I now recognized as the stupidest burst of romantic optimism I’d ever had.

What was I supposed to do now? Cancel? Waste the money and sit at home, marinating in my own heartbreak like some tragic rom-com protagonist?

Absolutely not.

He may have ghosted me, but I’d be damned if I let some spineless man ruin my weekend. If nothing else, I was going to Munich. I had been there quite often for him anyway; I can figure out town for myself. And if nothing else, I was going to eat overpriced pastries, wander through fancy boutiques, and romanticize the hell out of my heartbreak.

So that’s exactly what I did.

I packed my bags and boarded the plane with all the enthusiasm of someone heading to their own public execution.

…

Munich was cold, and I was hungry—a dangerous combination for my already fragile mood.

I had spent the last hour walking through Englischer Garten, trying to shake off the lingering irritation of being ghosted. Fresh air was supposed to be good for you, right? It was supposed to clear your head, restore balance, whatever.

Did it work?

Not even a little.

I even stopped by the Eisbachwelle, where wetsuit-clad lunatics flung themselves into freezing water, attempting to surf a man-made wave in the middle of the city. I lingered for a while, waiting for the sight of someone wiping out spectacularly to cheer me up. A little Schadenfreude, as the Germans call it.

But even that failed me.

A guy faceplanted so hard that his board smacked him in the ribs, and all I felt was secondhand embarrassment. Not a single drop of joy.

Which meant I had officially lost my edge.

I needed a reset. Something warm, salty, buttery, preferably in the shape of a large pretzel.

So when I spotted a small bakery stand in Marienplatz, I knew what had to be done.

There it was. The last Brezn.

Golden brown, perfectly crisp on the outside, still steaming slightly. It looked like a hug in food form. The kind of thing that could turn your entire day around, that could restore faith in humanity, that could—

A hand shot out at the same time as mine.

Before I could react, the pretzel thief had already handed over his cash, nodding a polite danke to the vendor as if he hadn't just robbed me blind in broad daylight.

I stood there, hand still hovering mid-air, fingers closing around absolutely nothing.

The guy—the criminal in question—didn’t even hesitate. He just took a bite, slow and deliberate, as if he were performing for a food commercial.

I should have just let it go. But I was cold, hungry, and, quite frankly, on the verge of snapping.

“Excuse me?” I said, my voice teetering dangerously close to customer service polite.

He finally turned toward me, mid-chew, like he hadn’t just committed culinary theft.

Up close, he was—unfortunately—pretty easy to look at. Tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp features softened only slightly by a full head of thick, dark blonde hair. The kind of guy who looked like he belonged in an expensive ad campaign, modeling watches he probably didn't even know how to read.

His gaze flicked down at me, scanning me with the casual arrogance of a man who had never had to fight for the last anything in his life.

“Problem?”

I crossed my arms. “You just stole my Brezn.”

He glanced down at it. Then, without even a hint of remorse, ripped off another piece and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh?” he said, chewing. “Didn’t see your name on it.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You cut the line.”

He shrugged. “I don’t wait in lines.”

I squinted at him. “Oh, wow. That must be so difficult for you.”

“It is,” he replied, entirely serious, before popping another bite into his mouth.

I stared at him. He stared back.

This was a test from the universe.

“I think I deserve it more,” he said finally, still looking alarmingly relaxed about this whole thing.

“Oh yeah?” I deadpanned. “And why’s that?”

He licked a bit of salt off his thumb—unnecessarily slowly, might I add—before replying, “I’m barely ever home. Haven’t had one of these in months.”

I exhaled sharply, glancing at the vendor like maybe—just maybe—there was another pretzel hiding in a secret stash somewhere. But no. This was it.

This stranger had not only taken the last Brezn but was now making a compelling case as to why he deserved it more.

I had two choices:

1. Accept defeat like a normal, functioning adult.

2. Die on this hill.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t feeling particularly mature today.

“Well,” I said, shifting my weight onto one leg. “I actually had a really rough week. So if we’re doing the who deserves it more competition, I’m pretty sure I win.”

He raised an eyebrow, looking far too amused for someone who had just ruined my day. “Oh yeah? What happened?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated.

“Let’s just say I’ve had a series of unfortunate events that have led me here, to this exact moment, where all I wanted—all I needed—was a Brezn.” I gestured toward the offending baked good, still clutched in his ridiculously nice hands. “And yet, here we are.”

He considered that for a moment, like he was actually entertaining the idea of handing it over.

Then, after a beat, he simply swallowed, dusted the salt from his fingers, and said, “Still not giving it to you.”

I blinked. “You’re actually the worst.”

“Probably,” he agreed, unbothered.

And then—because apparently, this interaction wasn’t infuriating enough—he shot me a quick smirk, turned on his heel, and walked away.

With my pretzel.

I watched his retreating figure, the back of his stupidly nice jacket, the annoyingly confident way he walked, and considered my life choices.

Maybe I should have just tripped him.

…

By the time I reached Jamal’s apartment, I had mostly let go of the pretzel theft.

Mostly.

Fine, not at all, but I was telling myself that because I refused to let some random bread bandit ruin my entire weekend.

I rang the doorbell, and within seconds, the door swung open to reveal Jamal Musiala—failed Raya date turned best mate.

We had met on the app ages ago, but within the first five minutes of real-life conversation, it was abundantly clear that we were better off as friends. No awkward tension, no will-they-won’t-they—just immediate sibling energy.

And when he heard about my spectacular disaster, he didn’t even hesitate.

"Cancel the hotel. My guest room is free. You’re staying with me."

Which was how I ended up here, standing in his doorway while he pulled me into a quick hug.

"Yo! Finally made it," he said, immediately pulling me into a hug.

"Survived another international flight," I sighed, stepping inside and already feeling the tension in my shoulders ease.

He grabbed my bag, tossing it near the door like it was his personal mission to make sure I did absolutely nothing for myself this weekend. "Long day?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, collapsing onto the couch. "Between the baby on the flight and some guy testing my patience on the streets of Munich, I was one bad moment away from throwing hands."

Jamal raised an eyebrow, already amused. "Define ‘testing your patience.’"

I waved a hand. "Eh, some random dickhead cut in front of me at a bakery. Took the last Brezn. Very tragic. Anyway, I’m over it now."

Jamal snorted. "You don’t sound over it."

"I’ve grown as a person," I said solemnly, grabbing the tea he handed me. "Anyway, enough about me. What’s new? Got any hot gossip?"

"Nothing as dramatic as your bread wars," he teased, settling into the chair across from me. "But I’m still reeling over the fact that you thought long-distance dating was a good idea."

I sighed, taking a long sip of my tea. "Alright, go on. Get it out of your system."

He smirked. "No, no, I just think it’s inspiring. You—who has approximately zero patience for time-wasters—thought dating someone five countries away was a solid plan."

I gave him a look. "It made sense at the time!"

Jamal raised an eyebrow. "Did it?"

I groaned. "Yes! In theory, long-distance means built-in space. No pressure to see each other all the time, no risk of losing yourself in the relationship. You still get your own life. It’s all very mature, very evolved."

"Ah yes," he nodded seriously, "a relationship with absolutely no quality time. Revolutionary."

I ignored him. "It worked perfectly for me."

Jamal leaned forward, grinning. "I think you’re saying he just didn’t make you fall head over heels properly."

"I’m saying it was a noble experiment that failed," I corrected.

"You rationalize love like it’s a business deal," he said, shaking his head. "I bet you made a whole pros and cons list before agreeing to this relationship."

I pursed my lips.

Jamal’s eyes widened. "Oh my God. You did."

"It was a very casual list," I mumbled into my mug.

He threw his head back, cackling. "You’re mental."

I scowled. "Some of us like to make informed decisions, Jamal."

"And some of us," he grinned, "realize that love isn’t an investment portfolio. It just happens."

I squinted at him. "That sounds like something people say when they want me to shut up."

"That too," he admitted, still smirking. "Anyway, I invited a friend over for FIFA later—hope you don’t mind."

I waved a hand lazily. "No problem. I’m gonna take a long shower first anyway."

…

The shower did its job. By the time I stepped out, warm and wrapped in one of Jamal’s oversized hoodies, I felt lighter. Like maybe this weekend wasn’t a complete disaster. Maybe I could just enjoy being in Munich, enjoy my friend’s company, and ignore the nagging feeling that I had flown here for absolutely no reason.

Then I stepped into the living room.

And froze.

Because sitting on Jamal’s couch, controller in hand, was none other than the Brezn thief himself.

I stopped so abruptly I nearly slid on the hardwood floor.

He looked up at me mid-game, one hand casually flicking the joystick, the other resting against the back of the couch like he had all the time in the world. His dark blond waves were slightly damp, like he’d just showered too, and he was wearing a black long-sleeve shirt that looked unfairly good on him.

For a split second, I thought maybe the universe was punishing me. That this was some kind of elaborate karmic joke.

Then he grinned, slow and lazy.

“Oh,” he said, far too casually for my liking. “It’s you again.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Are you following me?”

Jamal—completely oblivious to the mounting tension in the room—paused the game and looked between us. “Wait. You two already know each other?”

The man—who I now knew was not just some random bakery menace but an actual acquaintance of Jamal’s—stretched his arms out in front of him like he was completely at ease, shooting me a look that was somewhere between amused and smug.

“We met earlier,” he said, still grinning like he found this whole thing hilarious. “Had a little disagreement over a pretzel.”

I crossed my arms. “I wouldn’t call it a disagreement. More like an act of blatant food theft.”

Jamal let out a loud laugh. “Oh my God. You’re the Brezn guy?”

I turned to him, betrayed. “You’re taking his side?”

“Oh, I’m on no one’s side,” Jamal said, still grinning. “I just can’t believe you’ve been ranting about this all evening, and it turns out it was Kenan.”

Kenan.

I turned back to him, my brain finally catching up. Kenan Yıldız. The name suddenly clicked into place. Juventus player. Young star. He had been on all the football news headlines lately, yet I hadn’t recognized him when we’d been too busy arguing over baked goods.

Kenan leaned back against the couch, clearly enjoying every second of this.

“If it helps,” he said, “I did think about giving it to you.”

I scoffed. “Wow. So generous.”

“Didn’t, though,” he added, eyes gleaming.

I inhaled sharply, mentally weighing the pros and cons of throwing a pillow at his head.

Jamal, meanwhile, was still thoroughly entertained. “Alright, alright. Before you two start a war in my living room, sit down. We’re playing FIFA.”

I dropped onto the couch, watching as he passed a controller to Kenan. “Oh, fantastic. I get to witness high-quality gameplay firsthand.”

Kenan barely glanced at me as he selected his team. “That sounded sarcastic.”

I took a sip of my drink. “That’s because it was.”

Jamal grinned. “You talk like you’ve seen him play before.”

I gestured toward the screen. "The evidence is right there. You haven’t even started playing, and I can already see the classic overconfidence."

Jamal burst out laughing. “Oh, this is great. I love this."

Kenan tilted his head slightly. “You think I’m bad at FIFA?”

I leaned back, stretching my legs out. “I think you think you’re good, which is way worse.”

Jamal wheezed. “Mate, she’s calling you a fraud.”

Kenan finally smirked, something sharper in his expression now. “Alright then. Play me.”

I scoffed. “Why would I waste my time proving something I already know?”

Kenan handed me a controller. “Because I think you’re all talk.”

Jamal let out a low whistle. “Damn. You gonna let him say that?”

I squinted at Kenan, assessing. He looked too confident, too pleased with himself, like he had already decided I was going to lose.

Big mistake.

I stretched my arms, feigning boredom. "Fine. But when I win, you’re buying me a Brezn."

His grin widened. “Deal.”

Jamal leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “Alright, this is officially the most invested I’ve ever been in FIFA.”

The match started, and I quickly realized three things:

1. Kenan was as smug as humanly possible.

2. I was not as bad as he expected.

3. I was still losing.

“You sure you’ve played this before?” he teased, passing circles around my defense.

I gritted my teeth. “Yes.”

“You sure?”

“Shut up.”

And then—he scored.

Jamal burst out laughing as I dramatically collapsed against the couch. “I’m going to throw this controller at your head.”

Kenan grinned. “You’re just mad because you’re losing.”

I exhaled, resetting. “Alright. I’m locked in now.”

Kenan smirked. “Oh? You weren’t trying before?”

“I was warming up.”

And then—I started to figure him out.

Kenan was good, but he was also comfortable. He played like someone who expected to win—which meant he wasn’t ready for surprises.

So I gave him one.

Instead of playing safe, I started forcing mistakes. Instead of predictable attacks, I threw reckless passes forward, sprinting onto them with zero hesitation.

And then—somehow, some way—I scored.

The room went silent.

Jamal’s eyes widened. “NO WAY.”

I shot up from the couch, genuinely thrilled, throwing my arms in the air like I had just won the World Cup. “LET’S GO!”

Kenan blinked at the screen, processing. “...Alright. That was decent.”

“DECENT?” I laughed. “That was incredible. That was a masterpiece. Someone call FIFA, that was the best goal of the year.”

Jamal was dying, doubled over in laughter. “She’s actually celebrating like she won the league.”

Kenan shook his head, but he didn’t say anything.

Jamal leaned toward him. “You good, man? I think she actually rattled you.”

Kenan exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. “One goal means nothing.”

I grinned. “You sound stressed.”

“I’m not,” he said flatly.

“You look stressed.”

Kenan didn’t even respond. He just restarted the match, jaw set, eyes focused.

And that’s when I realized—he actually cared.

I had gotten to him.

And that fact alone made my entire weekend.

The rest of the game was pure chaos. I spent the entire match talking, commentating my every move like I was a sports announcer, making Jamal cry with laughter while Kenan did his best to block me out.

And then—somehow, against all odds—I scored again.

Jamal fell to the floor. “SHE DID IT AGAIN.”

I jumped up, clapping my hands together, absolutely beaming. “Someone get the cameras! Someone call ESPN!”

Kenan exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

Jamal cackled. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.”

Kenan looked at me then, properly looked, and for a split second, there was something undeniably fond in his gaze.

He didn’t say anything, just shook his head with a tiny, reluctant smile.

I flopped back down, grinning wildly. “Kenan, should I go pro?”

“You should retire while you’re ahead,” he muttered.

I smirked. “So you admit I’m ahead.”

Kenan sighed, picking up his drink. “I’m not talking to you anymore.”

Jamal wheezed. “Nah, man, you lost. Accept it.”

I stood up, stretching lazily. “I believe you owe me a Brezn, Yıldız.”

With a giggle, I wandered into the kitchen, grabbing a coke from the fridge, still riding the high of my victory.

Behind me, I heard Jamal got up, grabbing his phone. “Food’s almost here—I’ll go down and get it.”

The appartment was quiet now besides the sound of a controller being set down. A pause.

Then, Kenan’s voice, low and even.

“She’s unbearable.”

I grabbed a coke and turned around, only to find him already walking into the kitchen.

He moved with the kind of easy confidence that was impossible to ignore, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt slightly, like he had all the time in the world. I expected him to go for a drink himself, but he just leaned against the counter, watching me.

I raised an eyebrow, taking a slow sip. “Let me guess. You came in here to process your humiliating loss in private?”

His lips twitched. “I came in here to see if you’d finally crack and admit you got lucky.”

I scoffed, setting my drink down with dramatic emphasis. “Lucky? Oh, that’s cute. You think this was luck.”

Kenan tilted his head slightly, like he was really considering it. “Mmm. Either that, or you tricked me into underestimating you.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Are you suggesting I played mind games with you?”

His eyes glinted with something just shy of admiration. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

I smirked. “You’re right. I totally did. And I’d do it again.”

Kenan’s lips curled at the edges, like he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of admitting anything. But his gaze flickered—just for a second—down to my mouth before locking back onto my eyes.

There was a beat of silence, not awkward but charged.

His voice was lower when he spoke again. “I’ll get you back for that.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Sure you will.”

Before he could respond, Jamal’s voice rang out from the hallway. “Food’s here!”

Kenan stepped back, running a hand through his hair before nodding toward the door. “Come on, winner. Let’s eat.”

I followed, my smirk still lingering.

For the first time all weekend, I felt genuinely good.

…

It had gotten late the night before. Later than expected.

Jamal had ordered food, we’d all ended up sitting around, eating, talking, and somehow, between full stomachs and heavy eyelids, Kenan had ended up crashing on the couch. It wasn’t planned—just one of those things that happened when the night stretched longer than you thought it would.

I had barely registered it at the time, already halfway asleep in Jamal’s guest room, but when I woke up the next morning and wandered into the living room, there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In all his six-foot-something, professional athlete, half-asleep glory.

Sprawled out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes, hair a mess of lazy curls, mouth slightly parted like he hadn’t fully re-entered consciousness yet.

I stared for a second too long, mostly because I wasn’t used to seeing him like this—soft around the edges, not smirking or arguing with me—before clearing my throat.

“You know, Jamal does have an actual guest room.”

Kenan didn’t move, just let out a low, sleep-roughened grumble that was probably a sentence in some language I didn’t speak.

I rolled my eyes, walking into the kitchen. “I’m going to get breakfast. If you’re alive in the next five minutes, feel free to come along.”

He was already pushing himself up onto his elbows, blinking like he wasn’t fully convinced the day had started yet. “Where’s Jamal?”

I grabbed my coat. “Still dead to the world.”

Kenan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling through his nose. “Smart man.”

…

The café was small, tucked away from the main streets, the kind of place that felt warm the second you walked in. The smell of fresh bread and espresso filled the air, and despite the morning chill outside, it was cozy, inviting, the kind of place people actually took their time in.

I relaxed a little the second I stepped inside.

Kenan scanned the space, hands in his pockets, taking it in like he was mentally scoring it. “Not bad.”

I scoffed. “Not bad? This is an elite breakfast spot.”

He smirked. “I’ll decide once I taste the food.”

I rolled my eyes but before I could continue defending my flawless café selection, I noticed a small interaction at the counter.

A barista—young, probably new—was clearly overwhelmed, trying to juggle too many things at once. She fumbled slightly with the coffee machine, hands moving fast, eyes flicking to the growing line like it was personally taunting her.

The businessman at the front, impatient and already checking his watch, let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Jesus, is it always this slow?”

I didn’t mean to intervene.

It just kind of… happened.

I leaned slightly against the counter, offering a calm, easy smile.

“Take your time. It’s way too early for people to be this impatient.”

The words weren’t pointed, not really, but they carried just enough weight to cut through the tension.

The barista glanced at me, a flicker of relief in her expression before she nodded quickly and refocused on the drink in front of her.

The businessman, unimpressed, muttered something under his breath but dropped it, grabbing his coffee and stalking off.

Kenan, silent up until now, turned his head slightly toward me, like he was seeing me differently for the first time.

I ignored it, focusing back on the menu.

When we finally stepped up to order, the barista, still looking a little frazzled but better, managed a small, genuine smile.

“Thanks,” she murmured, adjusting her apron. “Some people are just…” She trailed off, rolling her eyes slightly, as if she couldn’t quite find the right word.

“The worst?” I offered.

She laughed. “Yeah. That.”

Kenan was still watching me, but now there was something else behind it.

Something almost amused.

“So you do have the capacity to be nice,” he mused, smirking as we stepped aside to wait for our drinks. “Interesting.”

I scoffed, stirring a sugar packet between my fingers. “I am perfectly capable of being nice.”

Kenan raised a brow, feigning deep contemplation. “Mmm. Just not to me?”

“The barista never stole my pretzel.”

He let out a low, lazy laugh, shaking his head as if he almost respected the answer. “Fair point.”

I took a sip of my coffee, pleased with myself, but before I could gloat, the barista returned, sliding an extra croissant onto our tray.

“On the house,” she said with a grin. “For being nice.”

I shot her a bright smile, but that smile slightly fell when I turned back to Kenan, I caught him watching me.

Not smirking. Not teasing.

Just looking.

It wasn’t obvious, nothing overt or lingering enough to call attention to itself. But there was something there—something unreadable, like a thought passing through his mind before he could decide what to do with it.

I frowned. “What?”

Kenan blinked, shaking his head slightly like he was resetting his expression. “Nothing.”

I squinted at him. “You’re weird.”

He smirked. “And yet, you invited me to breakfast.”

I rolled my eyes. “Because I was feeling charitable.”

Kenan took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes still flickering with something I couldn’t quite name.

“Lucky me.”

And for some reason, that sentence stayed with me longer than it should have.

…

The rest of the day, after dropping Jamal’s breakfast and Kenan went home, I was on a mission.

Enough sulking. Enough rehashing why I was even here. If I was going to spend a weekend away, I was going to make something of it—starting with the one thing that had never failed to lift my spirits.

Retail therapy.

Now, let’s be clear—I wasn’t the kind of person who regularly indulged in luxury shopping sprees. I was a firm believer in financial responsibility and splurging on sales.

But sometimes—just sometimes—a girl needed to treat herself.

I had no intention of actually buying anything.

But the moment I stepped inside Saint Laurent, something in me shifted.

Maybe it was the soft golden lighting, making everything look like it belonged in a dream. Maybe it was the quiet elegance of it all, the way the sales associates moved like they had all the secrets to life itself.

Or maybe, for the first time all week, I felt like I deserved something just for me.

I started with the handbags, lightly running my fingers over smooth leather and delicate gold clasps, trying to soak up the feeling of being in a place that felt so effortlessly put-together.

And then—I saw it.

It wasn’t a bag.

It was a dress.

Simple, timeless, and undeniably perfect.

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the fabric, wondering if I was allowed to try something this nice on.

Then a sales associate appeared, smiling warmly. “Would you like to see how it fits?”

I bit my lip, a little shy. “Oh, I was just—”

But then, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, I nodded. “Actually… yeah. Why not?”

And that was how it started.

Five minutes later, I was standing in front of a mirror, staring at a version of myself I hadn’t seen in a while.

The dress fit like it was made for me.

It hugged just right, elegant but effortless, like I’d just thrown it on and magically looked stunning. The kind of dress that didn’t need accessories or complicated styling. It just… worked.

I smoothed my hands over the fabric, twirling just slightly, inspecting every angle.

And for the first time all weekend, I actually smiled at my reflection.

The saleswoman clasped her hands together. “That’s the one, isn’t it?”

I exhaled, still staring at myself. “You’re very good at your job.”

She laughed. "You look stunning, dear."

I let out a small, giddy giggle, the kind I hadn’t heard from myself in a while. It felt nice, to like how I looked—to do something that was just for me, without a single ounce of guilt attached.

For once, I wasn’t overthinking it.

I wasn’t analyzing whether I should or shouldn’t.

I was just happy.

So before I could talk myself out of it, I lifted my chin and said, “I’ll take it.”

As I handed over my card, I thought about where I’d wear it.

Jamal’s match tonight. The VIP box.

And then, out of nowhere, another thought crept in—one I definitely didn’t mean to have.

What if Kenan sees me in this? Surely he would be there too.

The moment the thought fully registered, warmth crept up my neck and into my cheeks.

I nearly choked on my own internal monologue.

I shook my head quickly, forcing down the blush before the saleswoman could notice.

I wasn’t buying this for him. Obviously. No. This was just for me.

…But if Kenan happened to see me in it, well.

That wasn’t my fault.

….

By the time I arrived at Allianz Arena, I felt genuinely lighter.

Maybe it was the crisp night air, the buzz of excitement in the crowd, or the fact that I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in days.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that I felt good in my new dress.

The stadium lights shone down as I made my way to the VIP section, clutching my pass. The energy inside was electric, fans already singing, the deep thrum of anticipation settling over the stands.

I stepped inside the box, scanning the seats for Jamal, when a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I even saw him.

Kenan stood next to me, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his usual smirk firmly in place. The stadium lights did unfair things to his features, casting a warm glow over his already obnoxiously handsome face, and for a split second, I hated that he had the nerve to look like that in any setting.

His gaze flicked down ever so slightly, scanning my dress before he met my eyes again.

“You look good.”

I blinked, caught slightly off guard by the lack of sarcasm in his voice.

Then, as if he could sense me registering the compliment too much, he added, “Unexpected, really.”

There it was.

I let out a scoff, placing a hand on my chest. “Oh my God, Kenan. That was almost a normal, genuine compliment. You must be exhausted.”

He hummed, nodding. “Yeah, I don’t know what came over me. Won’t happen again.”

“Shame,” I teased. “I was really enjoying the moment.”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “So, what brings you here? Finally expanding your horizons past FIFA?”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, I’m here for Jamal. Some of us support our friends.”

Kenan nodded slowly. “Mmm. And yet… you’re standing here, talking to me instead.”

I opened my mouth to fire back, but before I could, the stadium erupted in cheers, the players stepping onto the field.

I turned my attention to the match, trying to pretend I wasn’t slightly flustered.

Kenan, however, didn’t seem as interested in the game as he was in continuing his favorite pastime: annoying me for fun.

“So, be honest,” he murmured, leaning in slightly. “You understand the rules of football, right?”

I gave him a dry look. “Wow. Incredible assumption. You see a woman at a match and immediately assume she doesn’t get it?”

Kenan grinned, unbothered. “No, I just see you at a match and assume you’re mostly here for the snacks.”

I gasped. “Excuse me, I am deeply invested in Jamal’s career.”

Kenan hummed, clearly not convinced. “Okay. What position does he play?”

I stared at him. “...Defense?”

Kenan smirked. “He’s a midfielder.”

I groaned, throwing my hands up. “Alright, whatever, I’m here for vibes and friendship. Sue me.”

Kenan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with pure amusement.

For once, I didn’t feel annoyed by it.

I turned back to the field, taking in the sheer energy of the stadium, the rush of excitement that rippled through the crowd.

And out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kenan watching me.

I glanced at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching the match?”

His smirk didn’t waver. “I am.”

Something warm and fluttery settled in my stomach before I could stop it.

…

By the time the match ended, I was happily full of stadium energy but tragically underfed.

The VIP box had food, sure, but it was the kind of small, fancy bites that looked better than they tasted. You know, the kind that was supposed to be "elevated dining" but just made you angry and hungrier.

I popped another tiny canapé into my mouth and sighed dramatically.

Kenan, who had been watching me struggle with barely concealed amusement, finally smirked. “You’re starving.”

I turned to him, offended. “I am not starving.”

Kenan gestured lazily to the criminally small appetizer on my plate. “You just inhaled that in one bite.”

I crossed my arms. “Maybe I have a very refined palate.”

He snorted. “Right. That’s why you look physically betrayed after every bite.”

I sighed, defeated. “Okay, fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

Kenan hummed like he was deep in thought, then glanced at his watch.

“Come on.”

I frowned. “What?”

He was already heading toward the exit, looking over his shoulder like it was obvious. “We’re getting food.”

I blinked. “Wait, seriously?”

Kenan chuckled, his expression full of mischief. “Trust me, anything outside is an upgrade from whatever that was.”

I tilted my head. “And what if this is an elaborate scheme to lure me into a suspiciously empty street?”

His smirk deepened. “I’d like to think if I wanted you gone, I’d be more creative than that.”

I considered it. “That’s… unsettlingly fair.”

…

Kenan’s car smelled unfairly nice—not in an overwhelming, aggressively expensive way, but in that effortless ‘I have my life together’ way. It was all clean leather, faint cologne, and something subtly fresh, like pine or citrus, the kind of scent that made you want to breathe a little deeper just to keep it around a second longer.

I did not breathe deeper.

Instead, I focused on the city outside, on the soft blur of streetlights streaking across the window as we drove through a quieter part of Munich. The streets were mostly empty, the chaos of match day behind us, and for the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t feeling weighed down by my own thoughts.

I was full, I was warm, and for once, I wasn’t thinking about him.

And then, Kenan spoke.

“So.” His voice was casual, almost offhanded, like he wasn’t about to upend my peace. “You never actually said why you were in Munich.”

I blinked, looking away from the window. “What?”

He glanced at me briefly, his fingers drumming idly against the steering wheel before he turned back to the road. “You don’t seem like the type to just book a random flight for fun.”

I scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am very spontaneous.”

Kenan hummed like he didn’t believe me. “Right. And how many of these ‘totally random’ solo trips have you taken before?”

I opened my mouth. Paused. Frowned.

“…That’s not important.”

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head. “So, you’re telling me you woke up one day and thought, Munich sounds nice?”

I huffed dramatically, crossing my arms. “Maybe I did.”

Kenan shot me a pointed look that said ‘I know you’re full of shit.’

I exhaled, shifting in my seat. “Fine. I was supposed to see someone.”

He didn’t react—just kept driving, waiting.

It was almost worse than if he had immediately jumped in with a question.

I sighed, resting my head against the window. “But, uh… turns out he didn’t feel like seeing me back. And I had the ticket booked already.”

The words felt… lighter now, like they didn’t hold the same weight as they did a few days ago. Maybe because I’d said them out loud before. Maybe because I wasn’t alone with them anymore.

Kenan’s fingers flexed on the steering wheel, his jaw tightening for half a second before he spoke.

“Idiot.”

I blinked, turning toward him. “What?”

His voice was even, casual, but the way he said it was too sure, too final. “The guy. He’s an idiot.”

I let out a small, surprised laugh, shaking my head. “You don’t even know him.”

Kenan didn’t hesitate. “Don’t have to.”

Something about his certainty made my stomach twist.

I licked my lips, choosing to ignore the warm feeling creeping into my chest. “You’re very confident in that assessment.”

Kenan finally glanced at me, just for a moment, then looked back at the road. “Yeah. I am.”

The air in the car felt different all of a sudden, not uncomfortable, but charged.

I opened my mouth, about to say something to break whatever this was, when—

Kenan reached into the backseat, grabbing something, and tossed a small paper bag into my lap.

I frowned down at it. “What’s this?”

Kenan kept his eyes on the road, one hand resting lazily on the gear shift. “Something I saw.”

I gave him a suspicious look before reaching inside.

The first thing I felt was something soft.

And when I pulled it out, I actually gasped.

It was a Jellycat plush.

But not just any Jellycat plush.

A pretzel-shaped one.

Ridiculously soft, golden brown with tiny embroidered salt flecks, its round body twisted into a perfect loop, like an adorable, carb-shaped hug.

I stared at it, completely thrown.

My brain short-circuited.

I turned to Kenan, wide-eyed. “You—” I stopped, shaking my head, too stunned to be normal about this. “You got me a Jellycat pretzel?”

Kenan shrugged, like this was completely normal behavior. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

I blinked down at my lap, still gripping the plush like it might disappear if I let go. “I—this is—I don’t even know what to say.”

Kenan smirked. “Wow. A rare moment.”

I ignored him, still reeling. “Wait. How did you—” My eyes narrowed as the realization hit. “Jamal.”

Kenan huffed a small laugh. “Jamal.”

I groaned, slumping back against my seat, embarrassed beyond belief. “I swear, he’s worse than an actual gossip column.”

“He told me the full pretzel tragedy while you were shopping this morning.” Kenan’s lips twitched. “Said you looked genuinely devastated when I took the last one.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “I was devastated.”

Kenan let out a real laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, I got that impression. Little drama queen.”

I glanced back down at the plush, running my fingers over its ridiculously soft surface, warmth blooming in my chest for an entirely different reason now.

I swallowed. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this, you know?”

Kenan exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. “I know.”

There was a small pause, then—

“I wanted to. I like to see you smile”

I froze.

Just for a second.

It wasn’t even what he said.

It was how he said it. Like it was simple. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it was a big deal.

I looked down at the Jellycat pretzel, tracing my thumb over one of the little embroidered salt flecks.

Kenan cleared his throat, like he wanted to move the conversation along before I got weird about it.

“I, uh—” He rubbed his jaw, focusing back on the road. “I couldn’t exactly smuggle a fresh one into the match, so I figured this would keep you warm in a different way.”

I swallowed, my grip tightening on the plush.

Somehow, slowly over the last few days, my heart stopped feeling so heavy.

I glanced at Kenan, and for once, he wasn’t watching me with his usual smirk or teasing expression.

He was just watching.

Like he was still trying to figure out why I looked so surprised.

Like he didn’t realize he had just completely disarmed me.

I turned back to the window, hiding my smile.

Kenan shifted in his seat, adjusting the air conditioning like he suddenly needed something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t started the drive back to Jamal’s.

Good. I wasn’t in a rush to get anywhere.

…

I woke up earlier than expected, the kind of early where the world still felt half-asleep, where the streets outside hummed quietly with the first stirrings of the city.

The apartment was still, save for the occasional distant sound—pipes groaning as someone used the shower, the soft buzz of an electric toothbrush in another room.

And then—

A loud "OH, COME ON!" followed by rapid button-mashing and what I could only assume was a FIFA-related disaster.

I groaned, pressing my face into the pillow, trying to will myself back to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Instead, my hand reached instinctively for something beside me, fingers brushing against—

Oh.

I cracked one eye open.

There, sitting right beside my pillow, was the Jellycat pretzel plush.

Warmth bloomed immediately in my chest, completely uninvited.

It had been exactly where I left it, tucked neatly beside me like some ridiculous comfort object. I had slept next to it. Like some sentimental idiot.

I exhaled sharply, flopping onto my back and covering my face with my hands. “I’m losing it.”

Jamal’s distant FIFA agony continued in the other room.

I peeked at the plush again, this time reaching over to pick it up, squeezing it absently in my hands.

It was too soft. Too huggable. Too… thoughtful.

Kenan had really gone out of his way to find something like this. He had listened to Jamal’s retelling of my pretzel tragedy and then acted on it.

That thought alone did something weird to my stomach.

I needed to leave before I started reading into things.

After a long, slightly too-hot shower and a reluctant change into travel clothes, I zipped up my suitcase and walked into the living room, where Jamal was still intensely focused on FIFA.

“Morning,” I greeted, adjusting my bag strap.

Jamal barely looked up. “Yo. Ready for your flight?”

I nodded, shifting my weight. “Yeah, time to go back home. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He finally paused his game, stretching lazily. “No problem. You’re welcome to crash here whenever your love life implodes.”

I gasped, fake offended. “Excuse me, that was one time.”

Jamal smirked. “That was this time.”

I glared at him. “You’re very lucky I don’t have time to fight you about this.”

Jamal grinned, unpausing his game. “Safe flight, man. Oh—Kenan’s out front, by the way.”

I froze mid-step, my brain short-circuiting. “What?”

Jamal tilted his head toward the window. “I think he’s waiting for you.”

I blinked rapidly, my stomach flipping for reasons I refused to acknowledge.

Kenan was… waiting for me?

I didn’t even have time to process what that meant before my feet were already moving, slipping on my coat and heading for the door.

And sure enough—

When I stepped outside, there he was.

Leaning against his car, hands tucked into his pockets, his posture completely at ease, like he had been there for a while and had all the time in the world.

The moment he saw me, his lips curved into a smirk, like he had been expecting me to be surprised.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if he had any reason to assume I wouldn’t be.

I scoffed, shifting my bag higher on my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Kenan shrugged. “Driving you to the airport.”

I blinked. “I—what?”

He tilted his head slightly, amused by my confusion. “What, you thought I’d let you navigate Munich public transport with a suitcase?”

I narrowed my eyes. “I was literally just going to call an Uber.”

Kenan rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose. “That’s boring.”

I stared at him, the weight of this entire situation settling into my brain.

Kenan—who had no reason to be here—had woken up, driven across the city, and was now waiting for me outside, completely unbothered, like this was just something he did.

I adjusted my coat, voice quieter. “You know you don’t have to do this, right?”

Kenan looked at me like I had just said something profoundly stupid. “Yeah. I know.”

I didn’t know what to do with that.

So instead of overanalyzing it to death, I just sighed, adjusting my bag.

“Fine. Let’s go.

…

When we finally pulled up to the departures area, Kenan shifted into park, tapping his fingers lightly against the steering wheel.

I unbuckled my seatbelt slowly, suddenly feeling like this was weirdly… final.

Like leaving now meant returning to normal.

And for some reason, I wasn’t ready for that.

I turned to him, opening my mouth to say… something.

But before I could, Kenan reached into his coat pocket and pulled something out.

A tiny bag of pretzels.

I blinked, thrown completely off guard. “You—”

Kenan smirked, holding it out toward me. “Figured you might need some snacks for the flight.”

I stared at him, something warm creeping into my chest before I could stop it.

I took the bag, shaking my head. “You’re trying to buy my goodwill?”

He leaned back against the seat. “You love it.”

I scoffed, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Debatable.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked to my carry-on, and before I could register what he was about to say, his smirk deepened slightly.

“Did you pack the Jellycat?”

My face immediately heated up.

I opened my mouth—to lie, obviously—but Kenan just let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You did.”

I huffed. “No comment.”

Kenan’s lips twitched. “Good. It means my plan worked.”

I frowned. “Plan?”

He nodded toward the plush peeking slightly from the top of my bag. “Now you have to think about me every time you see it.”

My brain short-circuited.

I had no response to that.

I huffed, adjusting my bag. “Okay, well. Thanks for the ride, I guess.”

Kenan nodded once, casual as ever. “See you around.”

I hesitated for half a second.

Then, before I could stop myself—

I turned back to him one last time.

And said, without thinking:

“Don’t miss me too much.”

Kenan’s smirk was slow, lazy, and way too confident.

“No promises.”

I stared at him, my brain doing at least fifteen flips, before turning on my heel and walking inside before I could make this worse for myself.

I had no idea what had just happened.

All I knew was that my face was burning, and I was smiling like an idiot.

…

Back home, everything was exactly as I had left it.

The same apartment, the same slightly-too-loud coffee machine sputtering in protest before coming to life, the same half-empty fridge reminding me that I should really start grocery shopping like an adult.

Everything had resumed as normal.

And yet—

I found myself standing in my bedroom, suitcase still half-unpacked, as if some part of me refused to fully settle back into my routine. My fingers ran absentmindedly over the plush pretzel sitting on my bed, its soft, squishy loops an absurd but strangely comforting reminder of the past weekend.

I wasn’t supposed to still be thinking about him.

I wasn’t supposed to be replaying conversations in my head, breaking apart the way he had looked at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention, the small shifts in his expression, the casual, almost careless way he had handed me that bag with the Jellycat and the pretzel, as if it hadn’t meant anything at all.

I let out a frustrated sigh, squeezing the plush against my chest like it was somehow responsible for all of this.

“You’re not helping,” I muttered at it.

Unsurprisingly, the Jellycat did not have a response.

I groaned, flopping onto my bed and burying my face into my pillow, as if that would somehow smother my thoughts into submission.

This was ridiculous.

I was being ridiculous.

I had gone to Munich with a very specific reason—to see someone who had ultimately proved to be unworthy of my time. But somehow, I had left with something else entirely.

A new inside joke. A new routine. A new, completely inconvenient way my stomach flipped whenever I got a text notification.

Which was precisely why I should not have reached for my phone just now.

But I did.

And when I turned it over—

There it was.

A new message.

From Kenan.

I hesitated for a beat, my thumb hovering over the screen, already knowing that whatever it said would only make things worse for me.

Then, finally, I clicked it open.

Kenan: Buy a nice winter coat.

I frowned, sitting up slightly as I typed back.

Me: Why?

The reply came almost instantly, as if he had been waiting for me to answer.

Kenan: I’m playing in the Netherlands next Wednesday.

Another message followed before I even had time to process the first.

Kenan: I need you to see how much better I am than Jamal, obviously.

I stared at my screen, my heart doing a very, very inconvenient thing, something warm and fluttery and deeply annoying settling into my chest.

I didn’t respond right away.

Because I already knew what I was going to do.

I was going.

#kenan yıldız fanfic #kenan yildiz oneshot #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yıldız #kenan yildiz x you #kenan yildiz fanfic #football oneshot

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solar-wing · 1 year ago

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⚣ 5+1: TikTok Trends 🤳🏽

⚣🤳🏽 A/N → I kept seeing all these couple trends on TikTok and it made me think of how Jason would react to these very same trends with his boyfriend...so I wrote it. tee hee WARNINGS: established relationship | social media trends | relationship goals | fluff/comfort | jason's had enough |

⚣🤳🏽 Summary → Five times Y/N did a social media trend/prank on Jason and the one time the vigilante finally got his boyfriend back.

⚣🤳🏽 Words → 3.7K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🤳🏽

Social media is an interesting thing with a variety of uses. You could use it to connect with old friends from high school and college, remembering the good ole days. It could be a place to connect with other people in specific communities so individuals could find those they related to and shared similar views and interests with. More than ever, it could be used to spread activism and political messages.

For Y/N L/N, it was a place for him to display his loving and chaotic relationship with his boyfriend Jason Todd.

They both had very different relationships with social media.

Y/N was a whirlwind of hashtags and filters, a living embodiment of the digital age. His phone was an extension of his hand, scrolling through endless videos and GRWMs where they were always running late for whatever they were getting ready for.

The boy took his college studies seriously, but the thought never not crossed his mind that he could become a full-time content creator if he wanted to. Ask any of his friends or especially his boyfriend, the dude was a walking meme who kept hundreds to thousands of reaction pictures and videos on his phone which is something he successfully managed to get his boyfriend addicted to as well.

No seriously, it had gotten so bad that Bruce had to reach out to Y/N to see if he could get Jason to stop or at least delete the photos from his phone. Apparently, in their family group chat, his boyfriend had taken to sending some very targeted and specific images.

It was fine until Bruce said something about Jason being reckless or something and risking lives, and his boyfriend responded with some interesting images and a very petty caption.

Jason: this u?

It was safe to say Bruce was less than amused, though apparently everyone else found it hilarious. But, sadly Y/N had to inform the billionaire that he wouldn’t be able to get his boyfriend to stop even if he tried and that he was also a victim of this new ordeal.

Bruce was confused until Y/N showed him a picture Jason sent him after Y/N refused to come cuddle him because he was studying for a midterm.

Jason: get ur ass in here now or else...respectfully

This was the exact fun and chaotic energy Y/N wanted to share with the world on social media and TikTok. But, Jason had a different relationship with it than his boyfriend.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, Jason was a firm believer in a simpler existence, preferring face-to-face conversations over likes and retweets. He possessed a refreshing aversion to the constant buzz of notifications and the pressure to document every meal or outing.

His only exception was Twitter, where he could voice his unhinged and questionable thoughts freely without raising suspicion or judgment because it was…well, it was Twitter.

However, that did not stop Y/N from using his poor and innocent lover in his little TikTok exploits when he wanted to.

The first one was something innocent, at least in his eyes. He and Jason were in their shared apartment near Y/N’s campus. They were lying together on the couch, with Y/N parallel to the piece of furniture while Jason sat up properly with his boyfriend’s legs over him.

He was silently reading a book while Y/N pretended to scroll through social media, fidgeting now and then when Jason would accidentally tickle his feet while unconsciously rubbing his feet. Then, the sneaky little man would pull up an audio from TikTok of a man’s voice, talking as if they were on a Facetime call.

At first, Jason didn’t think anything of it when he heard the ring from his boyfriend’s phone and he knows that he frequently calls his parents or friends. Besides, Jason knows almost everyone that Y/N knows so it definitely wasn’t out of the ordinary.

So why the fuck did he not recognize that voice that was speaking on the other end of Y/N’s phone? More than ever, why was it male?!

The second he heard the random male voice ask his boyfriend why he was smiling like that, the phone was snatched out of his hand and Jason was prepared to threaten extreme bodily harm to whoever was on the other side of that phone.

So imagine his confusion when was looking back at himself.

When he noticed the recording button at the bottom, he looked toward his boyfriend who was trying his best to hold in his laughs and was doing a terrible job. Y/N made sure to snatch his phone back though so Jason couldn’t delete the footage.

Jason allowed it though despite his annoyance, seeing Y/N happy and laughing always trumped over any negative feelings he was experiencing. However, he did give his boyfriend a nice gentle lesson about what happens when he plays with the vigilante’s jealous side.

It ‘twas not gentle though, not one bit.

And Y/N was a little fucker who never learned his lesson. Proud of it too.

The second time wasn’t even a week later after he’d seen a new trend going around the clock app that he just knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.

“Might be a little bit controversial but get ready with me while I give you my reasons on why cheating on your significant other is okay in certain scenarios.”

In under 5 seconds, the bathroom door shot open after the apartment sounded like a large predator had come running through it. Judging by the very unamused look Y/N was receiving, it may have been just that.

Y/N had to do his best not to laugh (or moan) at the image on his phone’s screen of a hulking, pissed-off Jason standing over him as he watched his skincare in silence. He knew his followers were going to get a kick out of this, probably detailing the filthiest things their horny little minds could cook up in his comment section like the little horny bastards they were.

Though, Y/N would be no better.

Jason still didn’t say anything, continuing to stare down at him like an angry parent who’d just been embarrassed in church by their child.

“Um, can I help you?” Y/N asked, desperately holding back the smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Jason’s dark hair fell over his forehead, his white streak hanging lazily between as his eyes narrowed down at his smaller boyfriend, his large, intimidating arms crossed over his chest. Y/N had to take a large breath to calm down the fluttering in his stomach.

Why did his boyfriend have to be so hot? The world was not fair.

When Jason continued to not say anything, just staring silently at his lover, Y/N decided to finish his skincare in silence while checking to make sure his video was still recording.

When about five minutes passed and neither of the boys said anything, the taller and larger male started to become slightly confused. Why wasn’t Y/N saying anything? He wasn’t crazy, knowing exactly what he heard until a lightbulb went over his head and he realized what was going on.

Once Y/N finished patting his face with sunscreen, he looked up to his boyfriend to see him with a now slightly less peeved expression and more of a smug, amused look.

“What?”

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“I think I’m quite hilarious actually.”

Jason didn’t say another word before turning on his heel, slowly walking out of the bathroom back towards the kitchen with that damn slutty walk of his. Seriously, why was the universe so unfair to Y/N? Then again, he definitely wasn’t complaining.

But, just because Jason realized what was going on didn’t mean he was going to just let the harmless prank go so easily. Y/N would be reminded once again how petty his boyfriend could be in the worst ways possible.

There really should be a hotline or emergency number for guys whose boyfriends decide to tease and edge them for over an hour. These crimes should not go unchecked!

Anyways…Y/N still didn’t learn his lesson. Third time’s a charm.

By this time, Jason had become well aware that Y/N would not stop using him in his little videos and pranks, so he figured if you can’t beat em, join em. He got his own TikTok account and only followed his boyfriend while also doing his best to keep up with whatever trends were going around, especially with couples so he could stay one step ahead.

This proved very useful, as when the ‘Water’ song by Tyla became a trend all over TikTok, Jason was more than aware of what his boyfriend was trying to do when he noticed from the corner of his eyes him recording him, pretending like he was just watching the videos.

Ah ah ah, gonna have to try harder than that, babe. Jason didn’t even budge like he was going to look, not like he would’ve either way.

But, he was NOT prepared to come home one day to find his boyfriend with his tripod set up, starting the countdown timer to record a video. The second the video started recording and Jason realized what song was playing, he didn’t waste a second before running and tackling Y/N out of the camera view before he could even hit the first beat.

He didn’t care if he fell for that one, those moves were for Jason’s eyes only. Something else the vigilante was going to have to remind his boyfriend about.

But, at least when Y/N looked at the footage, he realized he finally had something to post for that trend where people ran and tackled their significant others to that Barbie Girl remix. He’d always wanted to do that trend but hadn’t met Jason yet, so he was a bit too single to do it.

The fourth time was something also a little bit simple, less of a prank and more of Y/N just being a little shit that went looking for trouble.

When Jason was once again in the kitchen cooking, with his usual tank-top and jogger combo, Y/N thought it a perfect opportunity for him to get some revenge on his boyfriend since the gargantuan male always found it funny to slap Y/N on his butt hard as shit. Vengeance was needed.

So, when Jason wasn’t looking, Y/N walked into the kitchen positioning his phone in another spot so it could see the entire action, knowing if he tried to be sneaky, the vigilante would still catch on to him and turn around. He walked up behind him and gave his boyfriend a little hug as usual and a kiss on his back, something the towering male pretended not to be giddy at.

However, his sweet, tender moment was interrupted when he felt a medium-palm land on his ass with a precision aim, leaving a tingling sting behind.

“Payback!” Y/N decreed, already turning around and running for their shared room.

When he went back and looked at the footage later, he had to admit, the view of Jason turning around slowly as Y/N scurried away was very amusing. Especially considering he layered the video with the Wii Sports fencing music as his mammoth-sized man stalked after him like a predator cornering its prey.

His vengeance did not last long.

By this time, Jason had become somewhat of a regular presence on Y/N’s TikTok account, and all of his followers wanted more content with the two of them together.

So, after a long time coming, Y/N had managed to successfully convince Jason to do a video with him on camera. They decided to do the Alphabet challenge, something Y/N thought he’d have an easy win at.

He was not prepared for his boyfriend's extensive vocabulary. “Are you ready to start, honey?” Y/N started sneakily, thinking his boyfriend wouldn’t catch it.

“Bet you thought you were slick, huh?” Jason replied with his usual smug look.

“Can you be any less smug?” Y/N said with a playful eye roll.

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

At that point, it was almost like they weren’t even doing a challenge, but rather doing their usual relationship banter back and forth that just happened to be getting recorded. The longer it went on, the more chaotic it became, both boyfriends pulling the absolute wildest sentences they could think of out of their mouths to throw the other ones off.

“Suck my ass.”

“Turn around”

He’d also underestimated Jason’s lack of shame and vulgarness.

“Explain how you get a body like that?”

“From fucking whiny little pretty boys like you.”

Oh.

Yeah, he should’ve thought this one through a little more.

They’d managed to go through the whole alphabet at least three times, going from bantering back and forth to Y/N reciting lines from movies he could both think of, to Jason reciting lines from some of his favorite books. The smaller man at some point figured he could start using lines from pop culture and trends to throw his colossal boyfriend off. However, he was absolutely not prepared for him to quote the Rachel voicemail, word for word, knowing how much that whole message always made him weak.

“This is for Rachel you big, fat, white, nasty-smelling fat BITCH.”

Why did he have to put so much emphasis on the ‘bitch’ part? He threw in the towel there and let Jason have it, swearing victory on their next face-off.

Now, Y/N didn’t think it would go any farther than that. He figured he would keep making videos pranking Jason and that now and then, the vigilante would begrudgingly join in.

Oh, he was wrooong…

Frankly, Y/N should have known Jason was playing a prank on him the second he called him by his actual name instead of one of his pet names. The vigilante always got upset at him when he used Jason’s actual name instead of babe, baby, Jaybirdie, love, or even just simple Jay.

So, when Jason was not only calling him by his name but refusing to touch and or kiss him at all. Y/N absolutely should have figured something was up.

When Jason got over his initial awkwardness of physical touch in their relationship, that meant became a touch-clingy animal. Whether a hug, hand holding, cuddling, or even simple finger grazes, he needed them all. And kissing, if Y/N ever even dared leave their bedroom, let alone their apartment without giving his giant teddy bear of a boyfriend a kiss, he basically committed the ultimate sin.

So, imagine his surprise when he wakes up and leans over to give his Jaybirdie his kiss, and the big lug rolls over to the other side of the bed before his lips can even get close. Never mind the fact that he woke up and Jason was not cuddling him, hugging, or even just touching him for the matter.

But, he figured Jason was just out of it, discombobulated after waking up or something, and needed a moment. Then, when he was getting ready for his classes and making breakfast, Jason came out and Y/N plated his food for him while grabbing some juice from the fridge.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

Immediate strike two.

Y/N immediately turned around to his lover who was slowly eating his food, rather than inhaling it like he usually does which is why Y/N always has to make extra because the man is still hungry after the first plate. He gave him a weird look and just shrugged it off like he was hearing things, continuing to fill up the glass of juice before handing it over to the vigilante.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

There it was again. Okay, so he wasn’t imagining shit.

And, now that he was thinking about it, Jason was acting really weird. He didn’t come in and hug from behind like he does when Y/N is cooking. He hasn’t made one lewd sexual joke all morning. Heck, he’s barely looked towards the smaller male since this morning.

“You’re welcome. Is everything okay?”

Finally, Jason looked up at him, but it was with a straight face instead of his usual small smile or even the smirk that he always seemed to carry.

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, you just seem like you’re upset about something. Did I do something to make you mad?” Y/N asked, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and uncomfortable. He was not used to this behavior from Jason. It was almost like the beginning of their relationship when the vigilante wouldn’t be very guarded against him because he didn’t trust him yet. A feeling he was very happy to forget.

“No, nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Are you okay?” Jason asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just worried about you, I guess. You seem quiet.”

“I’m good, Y/N. You don’t need to worry about me.” Jason said, going back to scrolling on his phone while eating.

“Oh, okay,” Y/N said softly, looking down at the ground and feeling very out of place all of a sudden.

On the other end, he didn’t realize how much it was KILLING Jason on the inside to keep up this ruse. He was just about ready to fold and call it quits this morning when he turned over and avoided his boyfriend’s kiss.

Now, he felt absolutely disgusted and horrible at how hurt Y/N looked. He planned to wait it out until he got back from his classes, but he knew right at that moment he wasn’t going to be able to make it that long. He underestimated how much seeing his boyfriend upset would affect him.

“Alright, well, I’m gonna head to my class now. Text me if you want to meet up for lunch.”

“Okay,” Jason said, not saying anything else which he could see was visibly confusing Y/N even more.

He knew that Y/N didn’t like to push because of Jason’s boundaries, always rather giving him space than crowding him and trying to force him to tell him what was going on. It did nothing to help alleviate the guilt he was feeling.

When Y/N came over to try and give Jason a hug and goodbye kiss and Jason visibly moved away, the vigilante wanted to kill himself right at that moment at the wounded expression all over the boy’s face, who just moved to grab his bag, keys, and phone and damn near ran for the door. That was a clear strike three for the college student.

Absolute shit Jason felt like.

When he heard the front door open and slam, he immediately jumped up, grabbed his phone, and ran after his boyfriend who was booking it towards the stairs.

“Y/N, wait.”

When he made no moves to slow down, Jason had to pull out the vigilante moves to catch him since he was nearly out the complex door.

“Baby, stop. I was just messing with you,” He said, grabbing his boyfriend and planting kisses all over his face.

“No, that’s not funny. Get off me you jerk,” Y/N said not making any move to push Jason off which the vigilante smiled at.

“I’m sorry, but now you know how it feels,” Jason showed Y/N his phone that had been recording the entire interaction, “Payback,” He declared, clearly mocking the smaller boy.

Y/N rolled his eyes before heading back inside with his boyfriend who showered him with love and kisses for his prank but made fun of him the entire time. And it didn’t stop there.

Jason did scare pranks, couples challenges where they had to answer questions (his favorites were the ones that came with punishments like dunking each other’s head in water or getting hit with a pillow), and more.

It was the reaction memes all over again.

But, there was still one challenge he hadn’t come across yet that Y/N did and was more than ready to do on his boyfriend.

They were currently sitting in the car, spending a day out together since Y/N's load from his classes was light and there weren’t any cases Jason was working on with himself or his family either. They were parked in a parking garage outside a shopping center, having just come back from shopping and grabbing some food inside when Y/N set up the camera.

“Babe, what are you doing?” Jason asked while stuffing his face with the freshly baked pretzel bites they got.

“Saw this new couple challenge on TikTok and wanted to do it,” He said, setting up the phone mount and adjusting it so it had him and Jason in full view.

“So, I saw this new challenge where couples are asking their partners random questions about each other and seeing who knows more about the other. So me and my husband are going to do the same thing and I’m going to start.” Y/N said into the camera.

The moment it came out his mouth, Y/N could see the initial surprise on his face turn into a small smile, but he didn’t say anything or question him, so he kept going. As he did his best to think up random questions to ask Jason, he kept referring to him as his husband, increasing the smile to a shit-eating grin the longer it went.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Y/N asked.

“I’m your husband now?” Jason asked, turning to him with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah, is that a problem?” Y/N asked with his own raised eyebrow.

“Absolutely not,” Jason said, not saying another word as Y/N ended the video. He pulled out his phone as they finished their food and Y/N showed the original challenge that everyone was doing, agreeing with him when he called the guy from the original video a complete idiot.

But, he definitely noticed Jason not being as discreet as he thought he was, immediately noticing Jason’s browser on his phone being pulled up to engagement rings.

Oh boy.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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baekhyunsbestie · 4 months ago

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˗ˏˋ VIRAL! ˎˊ˗

𝟎𝟏. GAME START! ⤷ masterlist ⋆ ⟡ ࣪ ˖

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 18+ content / mdni ꒱ ˎˊ˗ streamer!baekhyun x f!reader. ~1k words. questionable ethics in romance lmaooo. stalking. invasion of privacy. manipulative charm. he is a blaring red flag, y'all.

baekhyun saw you once—just once—and decided that was enough. he was in love. struck. completely, irrevocably doomed.

but instead of, you know, being normal about it, he did something that would have any sane person running for the hills. in the span of a heartbeat, he pulled out his phone and hit record, capturing you in all your unknowing, breathtaking glory. it was barely a five-second clip—just you, minding your own business, oblivious to the man whose entire world had just tilted on its axis.

and then, because apparently, restraint was not in his vocabulary, he slapped that video onto tiktok with a caption that instantly cemented him as a walking red flag:

“saw the prettiest angel today… but she flew away before i could shoot my shot. do your thing, tiktok.”

unsurprisingly, the internet did exactly what he asked. the video exploded in record time, flooding fyp’s, group chats, and timelines like a digital wildfire.

your phone was the first casualty.

text after text, notification after notification—your screen lit up like a christmas tree. friends, family, coworkers—everyone and their mother had something to say.

“uhhh… why are you going viral on tiktok???”

“girl. GIRL. IS THIS YOU??”

“not you getting soft launched by a stranger LMAO”

and because curiosity got the best of you, you did the only reasonable thing left to do.

you slid into his dm’s.

baekhyun saw your message the second it came in.

he had been waiting—refreshing the app, pacing his apartment, checking his notifications like a man possessed. he'd taken a risk posting that video. sure, he'd been confident the internet would work its magic, but he hadn't accounted for the fact that you could’ve seen it and just… ignored him.

so when your username finally appeared in his dm’s—accompanied by a profile picture that confirmed it was you, the woman who had completely derailed his world in a single glance—he nearly fumbled his phone in his rush to open it.

you: sooo, did you know recording strangers in public is kinda weird?

your heart was still hammering from the decision to even message him. you had debated it for hours—oscillating between this is unhinged, i’m blocking him and well… i mean, it’s kinda flattering? against your better judgment, curiosity won out.

and then, of course, he responded immediately.

baekhyun_inb100: sooo, did you know ignoring your soulmate when fate literally put us in the same place is kinda rude?

your brows shot up. okay. bold. he had zero shame, apparently.

you scoffed, thumbs moving before you could think better of it.

you: fate didn’t do anything, you just weaponized the internet.

baekhyun laughed under his breath, leaning back against his couch. he liked you already. sharp. fast. no nonsense. if he had been on the fence about you before (he hadn’t), he definitely wasn’t now.

baekhyun_inb100: ‘weaponized’ is a strong word… i prefer ‘used my resources creatively.’

you: so creatively you had an entire app tracking me down?

your fingers hovered over your screen as you hit send, biting your lip. you weren’t gonna lie—there was something entertaining about this. he was flirting, obviously, but in a way that didn’t immediately make you want to throw your phone across the room.

on the other end, baekhyun grinned, practically buzzing with excitement now. he hadn’t expected this conversation to be fun. he figured you’d either chew him out or leave him on read—both outcomes he was willing to risk.

baekhyun_inb100: what can i say? desperate times call for viral measures.

you leaned back against your couch, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. the weird thing was—you should be annoyed. or at least mildly unsettled. but instead, you felt… amused? intrigued? maybe a little flattered, though you’d rather die than admit it.

you: and what exactly were you planning to do if tiktok didn’t find me?

baekhyun smirked at his screen, shaking his head. you were good.

baekhyun_inb100: suffer. dramatically.

you snorted.

you: and now that tiktok did find me?

your fingers hesitated as you typed the question, surprised by how much you actually wanted to know his answer.

baekhyun, on the other hand, barely even had to think about it.

baekhyun_inb100: take you on the best date of your life. unless you wanna break my heart right here in my dm’s. your call, angel. no pressure… kinda.

your breath hitched, caught off guard by the sudden shift. you had been expecting more teasing, maybe another joke. but no—this was direct. confident. flirting laced with just the right amount of sincerity.

he was smooth. dangerously so.

but you weren’t gonna make this easy.

you: how do i know this will be the ‘best date of my life’ if you didn’t even have the balls to go up to me in person?

baekhyun groaned, dragging a hand down his face. okay. fair. but also—ouch.

baekhyun_inb100: okokok… first of all, RUDE? second of all, i was strategizing! clearly, it worked because now you’re here.

you rolled your eyes, smirking at your screen.

you: ohhhh, i see. so you’re saying the charm is only digital?

baekhyun clutched his chest, letting out an exaggerated gasp, even though no one was around to witness his suffering. digital only? please. he was dripping in real life charm. you’d see.

baekhyun_inb100: ouch... now i HAVE to take you out just to prove you wrong. lemme know when you're free, and i’ll make sure it’s the best decision of your life.

your heart skipped. you were not supposed to be this affected by some random man in your dm’s. and yet—here you were, staring at his message like an idiot.

finally, you typed back.

you: fine. one date. just to see if you live up to the hype.

baekhyun nearly whooped out loud, punching the air like he’d just won a championship. instead, he settled for a self-satisfied grin as he typed his reply.

baekhyun_inb100: spoiler alert, angel: i do. but i’ll let you find that out yourself.

#req by me hehe #baekhyun #baekhyun drabble #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun fic #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun scenario #exo drabble #exo x reader #exo fic #exo imagine #exo scenario #lisawrites

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yuikomorii · 2 months ago

Note

You may not see this message but your account is a refreshing breath of fresh air amongst the suffocation that I have continuously witnessed from many including those on Pinterest as I have said in response to one of your posts. I love that, despite how others would criticize you for loving a "problematic game" and you loving a "weak female lead", You can see the game for all of it's grit, harshness but also the beauty that is in every inch and crevice of the story and it's cast....and I love how you have so much love for Yui and are able to show the geniune compassion that many people on the Whisper/Fandom side of Pinterest claim they show but ultimately refuse to show especially to those they believe deserve their cruelty. Even if you don't see this, I am just going to say thank you from the bottom of my heart

// Thank you so much, this was really sweet! ☺️🩷

I didn’t even know there was drama on Pinterest, since I only use the app to save ideas and inspiration, lol.

Tbh, most DL fans I’ve come across are pretty chill and friendly. Sure, every character has some toxic fans, but overall, that’s not the norm. What I’ve actually noticed is that the antis tend to be far more aggressive than the fans. They don’t just make snarky comments, they literally come off with this gaslight-y energy, trying to make others feel morally inferior for liking DL. It’s not just about criticizing the characters; they often treat the fans like they're awful people for enjoying the franchise too.

As I stated before, DL is a franchise where practically the characters, from Yui to the Diaboys and even some parents, has killed, hurt and sexually abused other characters. It’s part of the narrative, and anyone engaging with it should already know what kind of content they’re signing up for. If it’s not your thing, that’s totally fine! There are tons of other otome games out there that might suit your taste better. However, what’s not fine is spreading hate. Consuming dark romance isn’t illegal or forbidden anywhere, so why is it treated like a crime?

Some people claim they want “green flag” love interests, but then they turn around and shame others for enjoying content that doesn’t fit their taste. If you were really all about kindness and empathy, maybe try practicing it instead of throwing digital tomatoes at fictional character or at people for liking them.

#admin

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babyblue711 · 1 year ago

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Surrender

(Modern AU) Aegon II Targaryen x Female!Reader x Aemond Targaryen- Part 3 (Read Part 2 Here) Summary: After things get spicy, you begin to doubt your ability to handle the sexual appetites of these Targaryen brothers after all. Words: 3.8K

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Threesome, P in V, Anal, Oral, basically everything, very very soft Dom/Sub vibes A/N: As I contemplated what to write in Part 3, I realized that I really just wanted to finish what I started in Part 2! It is not necessary to re-read all of part 2, but would probably be helpful to pick back up here. The last few paragraphs are already included as a refresher (sorry this took me forever to get out y'all). I hope you enjoy! 🔥

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

“Come now,” Aegon whispers against your lips, “You didn’t really think we would be done with you already, did you?” His hand moves up to tightly grip your thigh around his hip, holding you in place as Aemond starts slowly inserting a digit into your ass, causing you to moan and arch your back, unfamiliar with this new intrusion.

“Hmm,” Aemond hums appreciatively, nibbling on your earlobe as Aegon watches your face. The pressure is mounting as Aemond pushes his thumb into your ass and realization dawns that they are far from finished with you. They aren’t going to stop until every last bit of you is sore from stretching around their thick cocks repeatedly; their intention to possess you both at the same time becomes abundantly clear as Aemond works to open your tight puckered hole and you know they’ll continue to cover your body in bite marks, hickeys, and bruises, effectively marking you as their own. They haven’t even begun to truly consume you yet.

“Yes, sweet girl,” says Aemond, an authoritative edge to his tone, “We’re just getting started.”

He says it like a promise, one that brooks no argument, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

Your brain goes into overdrive; what did you get yourself into? Caught up in Aegon’s snare the entire week, now you are questioning if he has somehow masterminded this whole affair; to get you into bed with both of them, to use your body for their own sexual exploitation. The brothers seem so natural around each other in this setting that you can’t help but wonder if they’ve done this before. You didn’t even think to set boundaries with them; you trusted them, you built connections with them, you thought that was enough to keep you safe. However, behind closed doors, their animalistic desires are overtaking their normal gentle natures and they both are easily giving in to their primal needs; you are beginning to feel as though your tryst is quickly spiraling out of control.

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out; your thoughts are too clouded from champagne, from exhilaration, from exhaustion, from fear. Your body stops cooperating as Aemond tries to insert another finger into your ass, causing you to yelp in pain and clamp down even more tightly on his thumb. You attempt to wiggle away, but Aegon has you securely locked in his arms as your heart thumps wildly in your chest. Aemond chuckles behind you.

“You’ve never taken a cock in here, have you?” he asks, amused, and you shake your head no, hoping maybe they’ll show you some mercy. He sighs, removing his thumb and gets up from the bed, the soft padding of his footsteps on the hardwood floors tells you that he’s exited the room. Where is he going? Is he done? Is that it? Thoughts race through your mind, but Aegon grips you even tighter, as if expecting you to try to get away now that Aemond isn’t there to block your exit.

Crushing you against him, he leans down to whisper against your lips, “You’re such an animal in bed, I never imagined you’d have a virgin asshole.” He smirks at you and his blue eyes seem to smolder with dark intensity and, before you can think of a response, you feel the bed sink down as Aemond returns.

“Switch me,” Aegon practically growls at Aemond, releasing you from his stronghold to maneuver behind you while Aemond goes to the bathroom to wash his hands. You glance over your shoulder to see Aegon picking up the small bottle that Aemond left behind, snapping open the lid with his thumb.

Recognizing the brand, you immediately know what this bottle contains: lube and it’s obvious what it’s going to be used for. Were you ready for this? You feel as though you are standing on the edge of a precipice and doubt seeps into your mind as you realize their intentions are exceeding what you initially thought you had agreed to. Irrational fear blooms in your chest, constricting your airway, and you lose your head completely, springing up from the bed as soon as Aegon seems distracted by the bottle. With no time to grab clothes, you dash towards the bedroom door, inwardly cursing the vastness of the room in your mind as you go.

“Hey - !” Aegon exclaims, but you don’t stop, don’t look back, the door is an arms length away, you can almost taste freedom as you reach for the handle, you’re almost there, before a strong arm snakes around your chest and yanks you back while covering your mouth with a large hand.

You shriek from shock as Aemond swings you bodily away from the door, but his hand is clamped so hard on your mouth all that comes out is a muffled yelp that nobody else in the house could hope to hear. Your attempts to struggle are quickly subdued by Aemond’s iron grip. Aegon is still on the bed, having not moved a muscle, a devilish grin on his lips as he watches you thrash in Aemond’s arms.

“Going somewhere?” Aemond snarls into your ear as he heaves you back over to the bed, taking hold of your hair at the nape of your neck and twisting your arm behind your back until tears spring into your eyes. Feeling like your arm might snap if pushed any further, you have no choice but to comply as he marches you back over to the bed. Aegon slinks over to the edge where Aemond is holding you tightly; his hot breath pants into your face as he makes a tsk sound with his tongue.

“Now, we don’t want to have to tie you up, babygirl, but if you try to run again, we won’t have a choice,” his voice drips with feigned softness, his eyes are like flints of steel as he boops you on the nose cheerfully like he is doing you a kindness. “It’s up to you if this hurts or not.”

You notice the way his dark eyes drink in your vulnerability, trapped by Aemond. Your throat is exposed by his grip on your hair and your heart thunders in your chest. Without warning, Aegon twists your nipples harshly, and you cry out in pain, back arching, but wetness inexplicably starts to form between your thighs; the thrill of the chase has excited you more than you had even anticipated.

He continues to torment your breasts for a few moments as Aemond’s mouth clamps down on your neck, trailing bite marks to your shoulder. Helpless against their delicious assault, your eyes close and a low moan escapes your lips, until you feel Aegon running a finger through your folds, only to find you wet and wanting.

“I think our sweet girl likes pain,” his voice thrums with excitement when he feels your arousal, his gaze flicking to Aemond who hums low in his chest. With his knee, Aemond widens your stance, allowing Aegon better access to your core as he begins to pleasure your bud with tight, fast circles. Aemond’s cock is rock hard against your hip, precum leaking from the top as he watches what Aegon does to you. Your core clenches with electric intensity and your knees buckle, only Aemond’s hold keeps you upright. You’re almost about to cum again when Aegon notices the flutter of your velvet walls and he withdraws his hand, shaking his head, chuckling.

“Oh no, we can’t let you cum just yet. Aemond, what else should her punishment be for trying to run?” He poses the question to his brother with the air as one might ask about the weather, but his expression is hungry as he watches you pant, still locked in Aemond’s arms.

“Oh, I can think of a few things,” Aemond growls and he moves you to the left of Aegon, releasing you at last and you cry out in relief as pins and needles shoot through your arm as the circulation returns. You don’t have a moment to catch your breath before a strong hand bends you over the bed, holding you down between your shoulder blades and administering a sharp slap to your ass. Face stuffed into the soft bedding, you yelp and try to jerk away from him, but he’s too strong and he slaps you again, harder this time time, so hard you know you’ll have a hand printed bruise on your tender skin.

“Are you ready to behave now?” Aemond commands, deep in his chest, his hand rubbing the stinging skin of your ass. You pant and manage a breathless “yes,” and he releases his hold between your shoulders, but you know better than to move. You feel Aemond running the head of his cock through your dripping folds from behind, grunting in appreciation.

“So wet,” he murmurs appreciatively before roughly inserting himself inside of you, pumping furiously a few times before backing out completely. You groan at the loss of fullness and momentarily confused by his exit until he administers yet another sharp slap, this time right on your throbbing cunt. You cry aloud, knees giving out completely and you almost fall if not for Aegon grasping under your arms and hauling you onto the bed with him.

A wicked smile on his face, Aegon whispers in your ear. “Suck on Aemond’s cock for me, babygirl,” and he shoves you back in Aemond’s direction, who is still standing by the edge of the bed, his thick girth glistening from your arousal.

The brothers' attentions are eliciting the desired response from you, as your sensitive center pulsates and your mind recalibrates toward your own primal desires; you find yourself succumbing to their allure once again; your pupils are blown wide, filled with need, with lust, with longing.

You crawl to Aemond on all fours, face level with his girth and it swings heavily in front of you as he grasps it, tapping it against your bottom lip, waiting for you to open your mouth. But you realized that part of the fun is in the refusal, so you keep your mouth tightly shut, instead gazing up at him with big doe eyes, daring him to make you.

His eye narrows as he waits, his patience thin, ready for some more action. But he quickly notices the glint in your eye, realizing your game, but doesn’t play so gently back. He grasps your jaw in a firm grip and squeezes, so you have no choice but to open your mouth and he seizes his opportunity to push forward, a grim smirk on his lips as he watches you swallow his cock, removing his grip on your face so you can open your mouth wider to take him. He grabs you by the hair and pushes deeper, choking you, making your eyes water, barely giving you time to breath before he starts to fuck your mouth. He goes so deep that his pubic hair tickles your nose and you try desperately to breathe while tasting your own arousal on your tongue. Whimpering at his brutal speed, you try your best to take him as best you can without gagging as tears stream from your eyes, but Aemond doesn’t let up.

Simultaneously, Aegon manages to slither in between your legs, pushing your hips down so you are practically sitting on his face as he eats your pussy in the similar manner to the way you are now eating Aemond’s cock. You grip Aemond’s thick girth with one hand, mainly to stop your own suffocation as Aegon’s tongue pushes into your entrance, eliciting a low moan in the back of your throat, causing Aemond to grunt from the vibration. You lose track of time, losing yourself in the pleasure of Aegon devouring you with his tongue while you suck harshly on Aemond’s cock with renewed enthusiasm.

Without warning, another orgasm crashes over you, deep from within, and you grind down onto Aegon’s face as you ride the waves, not caring if you are smothering him. His arms encircle your legs and he holds you tightly, lapping every last drop of your cunt until your legs stop shaking from ecstacy. Aemond watches you unravel with a hungry intensity and, as you come down from your high, he backs his cock out of your mouth.

“We need to reposition,” he commands at Aegon, who emerges from underneath you, panting slightly, his own cock erect against his belly, clearly turned on by giving you so much pleasure. Aegon nods in agreement as Aemond climbs onto the bed and lays on his back right in the center.

“Go ride Aemond’s cock for me, babygirl,” Aegon orders and you whine, still so sensitive from your recent orgasm. You crawl over top of Aemond and he immediately lines himself up with your entrance, pushing your hips down gently to sink onto him. You mewl pathetically as Aemond pulls you flush against his chest, pumping in and out of you slowly. You lick the skin of his neck, peppering him with kisses, softly scraping your teeth against his jaw line as pleasure zings through your core while his thick cock massages your velvet walls.

From behind, you hear the familiar snap of the lube bottle and hear Aegon shuffling over to where you lay on top of Aemond and this time you feel ready to take them both; you need to have them both at once. You moan as you feel a sudden coolness right on your puckered hole and Aegon gets to work, inserting his thumb slowly as Aemond rocks into you from below, grinding against your sensitive bud.

“You’ll need to relax or it’ll only hurt more,” Aemond whispers to you, caressing your face, his demeanor now gentle, the complete opposite of the way he was fucking your mouth just a few short moments ago. You grunt as you feel Aegon insert another finger into your ass, the pressure mounting, as you pant into Aemond’s face and whine.

“Shhh, focus on me,” Aemond whispers before adding, “he’s done this before,” as if to hope to pacify your fears. You bury your face into Aemond’s neck, hands gripping the sheets around his head and groan as you feel Aegon push the head of his cock against your tight hole and slowly, inch by inch, he sinks deeper into your body.

Aemond stills as he waits for Aegon to enter you, murmuring soft words of encouragement in your ear. At last, Aegon is flush against your ass while Aemond is buried deep inside your pussy and you think full is an understatement. Never before had you felt so stuffed as you try to get adjusted to the sensation of both of them inside of you. You’re breathing heavily, face still buried against Aemond’s neck.

“So fucking tight,” Aegon huffs and begins to move languidly, taking his time and not rushing, being more gentle than you had expected him to be. Just as slowly, Aemond starts to thrust in sync with Aegon. After a few moments, their rhythm starts to feel good as you relax and adjust to the exquisite feeling of fullness, letting the pleasure consume you.

Almost as if they share one mind, the brothers pick up the pace at the same time, causing you to moan even louder than you normally do, so overwhelmed by both. They fuck you mercilessly and you feel nothing more than a rag doll, being torn apart by these two apex predators. Working together in tandem, you are overwhelmed by their deep stimulation as tension coils in your belly once more, knowing that this climax will completely be your undoing. You pant and whine loudly without restraint right into Aemond’s ear and soon start mumbling desperate, filthy words, your telltale sign you’re about to cum.

“Cum for us again, you little slut,” Aegon growls, picking up on your cues, hips audibly slapping against your ass with the force of his thrusts and he holds your hips steady with a bruising grip. You can hear his own labored breathing as Aemond pants from below you, his chest is slick with sweat and you slide a bit on top of him as the two men ride you.

You let out a strangled yell when your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave as you’re pounded straight into oblivion; you swear you see stars and your vision goes black. Aemond grunts as your pussy clenches tightly around him like a vice and he continues to furiously chase his own release until his hips stutter and his cock pulsates deep in your pussy just as Aegon finishes with a guttural groan and spills himself deep in your ass.

As the three of you descend from your high, you remain joined for a moment, panting heavily, and utterly spent. Aegon retreats first, pulling his softening cock from your ass and watching his cum leak from your wide hole. You feel him hop off the bed, but you continue to lay and pant on Aemond’s chest, not having the strength to move. Where you once felt so full, you now feel so empty, but also blessedly relieved.

Aemond waits for a moment before gently lifting you off of him and depositing you on the bed where you don’t move, trying to regain your breath, limbs twitching as little jolts of electricity still zing from your core. Double penetration had resulted in the best and longest orgasm of your life; you hadn’t expected the experience to have felt so good, but you knew you would be immensely sore in the morning.

Dimly, you hear the brothers shuffling around the room, talking softly and feeling thankful they are getting ready to leave soon. You must even doze briefly, the sounds of running water in the bathroom almost instantly putting you to sleep. Unexpectedly, a gentle touch rouses you from your half-sleep and you crack an eye open to see it’s Aemond.

“Come with me?” he asks softly and you cannot even summon the energy to move; what does he want now?

“Aemond, I’m too tired,” you try to say but he doesn’t take no for an answer, scooping you up and carrying you towards the bathroom.

In the large jacuzzi tub that dominates your bathroom, a hot bath has been run for you and Aegon is already soaking in the bubbles. Carefully, Aemond sets you down into the water opposite Aegon, and you whimper when the heat hits your soreness. Aemond settles in behind you, cradling you against his chest, and begins to lather you with a sponge.

Aegon watches for a moment before reaching into the water and finding your foot and starts to gently massage. You can't help but moan as you completely unwind under their attentive care. Aemond shifts to rub your neck and shoulders, while Aegon tends to your legs and feet. You hadn’t expected this level of pampering and appreciate their sweet sincerity, even after feeling quite objectified just moments ago.

“Do you feel ok?” Aemond hums gently, his chin on your shoulder as he embraces you from behind.

“Better now,” you murmur, your eyes heavily lidded, soothed by the warmth of the water and their tender care.

“You did such a great job,” Aegon compliments, “Your ass was amazing, Aemond will have to try it out next time,” he continues matter-of-factly.

Next time? Would there be a next time? Did you want to do this again? You are too tired to even contemplate this statement and just let his comment slide as you finish your bath.

Aegon exits your room promptly after drying off from the bath, planting a swift kiss on your forehead before taking his leave, but Aemond opts to spend the night with you. Dressed in only his boxers, he throws back the covers and invites you to cuddle next to him in the bed; you nestle into his chest as he exhales softly against your hair and you fall asleep instantly, awakening the next morning still wrapped in his arms.

The first rays of light are filtering in through the large windows and you can tell by his breathing that Aemond is already awake, though neither of you make an attempt to speak just yet. Groggily, you reflect back on the eventful evening, feeling like it was all one big fever dream, and only the soreness between your legs tells you that it actually really happened. Aemond rubs your side absentmindedly and you stretch like a cat, enjoying the warmth of his hand on your skin.

“I have to leave to catch my flight soon,” he whispers in your ear, kissing your neck gently.

“Hmm,” you murmur, as you scoot your butt back into him, feeling his hard length against your ass. You lift your leg, inviting him in, and his fingertips glide over the slickness of your velvet folds.

It’s all the confirmation he needs as he eases into you slowly as you both lay on your sides. You hiss in pain as your pussy stretches around him, still so sore from the night before, but undeniable pleasure pulses through your core as his cock rubs against the spongy spot deep inside your tight heat. You turn your head to kiss him deeply as he slowly fucks you into another mindblowing peak, his name on your lips when you shatter around him. You never would have used the word “lovemaking” when you were with Aegon, but with Aemond, there wasn’t any other way to describe your morning sex session other than tender, attentive, and loving. Afterwards, when he pulls his softening cock out of you, you find that you ache for the connection again, feeling complete only when he is inside of you.

“I’ll let you know when I get to New York,” he whispers, cradling your face and locking eyes with you for a final, lingering kiss before leaving your room.

You sigh contentedly, remaining in bed, basking in the warmth and comfort, wrapped in the soft sheets. The remnants of his release linger between your thighs, and you know you need to get up to start your day soon since you and Helaena are scheduled to depart for London in a few hours.

Your mind wanders back to Aegon, and a sense of conflict stirs within you. You're torn between the chaotic, exhilarating energy of Aegon and the quieter yet intensely compelling nature of Aemond. Would Aegon feel let down if you chose his brother instead? And what about Aemond—would he be bothered by the notion of being with someone after his brother? He certainly didn’t seem to mind a few moments ago…

What if they desire a repeat of last night's activities? Would that become your new thing?

Your contentment is quickly turning into frustration as you muse over these complicated Targaryen boys who harbor unusual sexual appetites: sharing a mate between them. You have never heard such a thing until now and are rapidly realizing how challenging it will be to resume "normalcy" after your time at the Targaryen family estate.

A/N: I, for one, already feel confident that I'll never feel "normal" after Season 2 of HOTD 🔥 Been down bad for a long time now. Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments are always welcome! 💙

Tags: @rhaenyslay, @elizarbell , @aemondsscar, @peonamay, @cyeco13, @quinnquinn317, @multyfangirl, @myfandomprompts , @thekinslayed, @pandemonium105, @fan-goddess , @vencuyot, @boundlessfantasy @darylandbethfanforever9 @silentwhisper666 @watercolorskyy , @darktrashsoulbear, @gemini-mama

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #ewan nation #aegon ii targaryen #modern!aemond targaryen #modern aegon targaryen #modern aegon #modern au aegon #modern!aemond x reader #modern!aegon targaryen #modern!aegon targaryen x reader

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