#fluff🕯

[sweetiechichi]

mattheo getting babydoll!reader ready for bed

“arms up.”

she blinks at him slowly, curled up on the edge of his bed in her tights and cardigan, mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes.

“why?”

“because you said you were tired ten minutes ago, and you haven’t moved since.”

she yawns, rubbing her cheek with the back of her hand. “i was going to.”

he crouches in front of her, lifting the hem of her cardigan to pull it over her head. she raises her arms, sleepy and slow, letting him tug it off gently.

“you could help instead of bossing me around,” she mumbles.

“i am helping, baby.”

he grabs the oversized t-shirt from the foot of the bed--one of his--and pulls it over her head without asking. she doesn’t complain. she leans into him slightly, warm and soft, her hair falling forward as she wriggles into the shirt.

he smooths her hair back, quick and practiced, and brushes a few strands behind her ear.

“lie down,” he says, voice lower now. “i’ll take your tights off.”

“that’s very forward,” she mutters, but she’s already sliding down into the sheets.

he rolls his eyes “you say that like i haven’t already seen you here, just like this.”

“that was different,” she says, letting her eyes close as he pulls the blanket up over her. “i wasn’t wearing tights then.”

“not the part i noticed.”

she hums, content, and tucks herself into the pillow.

he dims the lamp and slips into bed a minute later, cigarette low between his lips, one hand trailing along her back, the other holding a book steady across his legs.

neither of them says anything after that.

she’s asleep before he can.

[joontroverted]

of course other women want your boyfriend

pairing: nanami kento x reader

tags: nanami is 34. is that a warning? lol.

"your dad's kinda hot."

the bar isn't too full, just the regular crowd, and then some. of course there were other college kids, none that you knew. well, except this one.

you've seen aiko around, always at the back of the class. not that that's worth shaming, you ended up back there too often due to sleepy mornings to be looking down on her.

no, it's the constant bitching and laughing during class that pissed you the fuck off. not an ounce of respect or decorum for the rest of you depressed losers just trying to make it out of class with notes that made sense, or the poor professor, who has long since given up on admonishing her. so maybe you did once tell her off in the middle of class a week before finals. just once. or twice.

and here she is, having tapped on your shoulder as you were sipping your drink, bitching and laughing with her friends hanging behind her, snickering along.

"that's not my dad," you reply, ticked off.

her eyes widen in faux shock. "even better then! I didn't wanna make it too messy for you. what's his instagram?"

you laugh, bunching up your shoulders, finally putting down your drink and getting up. you're usually not the jealous type, and you're not even feeling jealous right now, more like a bubbling irritation.

"he doesn't have an Instagram. he's thirty four, what instagram do you think you're gonna be hitting him up on, huh?"

"thirty four? he looks forty plus at least! I didn't know being with a stuck up bitch like you would age a man like that, but makes sense!" she scoffs, looking you up and down.

"so you can pick up on social cues! I was wondering how you couldn't figure out that he's my boyfriend from the kiss he gave me or, perhaps from the way he was holding me, but turns out you're just a rude bitch who wants to slather her fingers all over my boyfriend!" you snap at her.

that makes a few people around you look over, and as much as you wanted to smack her across her face, you needed to maintain your standards.

"then where is he now? where's your boyfriend? and which forty year old brings his little girlfriend on a night out to a bar like-"

"there you are, sweetheart."

kento slides his arm around your waist, slipping into the seat next to yours.

nanami kento. thirty four. food critic! 6' 1", honey blonde hair slicked back, but a few pieces spill out on to his face, deep brown eyes that are both soft and sharp. his white shirt's sleeves rolled up to his elbows showing his thick forearms, veiny with light, golden hair. the bar and the girl in front of you almost fade to the back of your mind when his cologne hits your nose, sending you into a daze.

almost.

"ken!" you breathe.

"did i keep you too long? you know satoru, refusing to get to the point," he frowns, dropping a kiss on your forehead. "what's got you all worked up?"

"hey!"

his eyes leave yours to look at aiko. "yes?"

"how come she doesn't bring you around more often? she's always all by herself, in her own little world! so shy, really! i'm aiko, we go to class together!" she smiles at him, all cute and bubbly like.

"what are you trying to do?" you ask, shouldering youself between kento and her. "you trying to swoop in and show him a better life or something? do you need attention that bad?"

"oh my god, you guys, look she's getting all bothered!" she gasps to her friends around her. "no babe i didn't mean it like that, i just meant it like i am personally, SO happy that someone like you's found love, you know? even if it's with someone who is SO different from you, you're finally out of your shell, and clearly, there is someone for everyone!" she gushes, and then looks over your shoulder at kento.

"why are you looking at him, look at me," you interject, something finally snapping in you. kento can sense the change in you, and places his hands on your waist.

"sweetheart, i think- "

you appreciate it, but you can handle this, you're FINE.

"no no," you repeat, "look at me! because do you think he's gonna treat you the way he treats me? do you think he's gonna keep up with your bullshit, and your little friend group and not see you for the pathetic attention seeking loser you are? you think he's gonna buy you the stuff you want and take you to all your raves and whatnot? this man goes to sleep every night by eleven thirty! you don't see him at parties because he's thirty four fucking years old, and his definition of a night out is wine and fine dining, with ME! he treats me like this, and buys me whatever the fuck i want, because i'm me, he's not gonna treat you like that babe!"

"don't get all worked up!" aiko spits "we can just be friends, you know!" she twirls her hair, her eyes still on kento.

"what are you twirling your hair for? he's not even looking at you, the only thing that that's gonna do is make you even balder. spending all your time trying to poach another bitch's man the whole time your bald spot's been making direct eye contact with me."

she gasps, and deep down you know you would never say that to a girl unless she absolutely deserved it, and aiko has been begging for it.

kento squeezes your waist, standing up, towering over you from behind.

"baby, she said she just wanted to be friends, didn't she?" he asks. "why don't you give her my instagram?"

aiko chuckles, seeming to have recovered. she pushes her phone into his hands, instagram open, and he hands it over to you diligently.

you scoff and type in his username, pressing the follow button and shoving it back to her.

"now that that's done," sighs kento, holding you. "it's getting a little hot in here, isn't it honey? let's get this scarf off of you."

his hands unfasten the scarf that you had tied around your neck, that you're sure aiko just attributed to poor fashion sense. despite the previous chaos, your eyes follow his thick fingers as the open the knot, and unloop the scarf from around your neck, causing the scarf to slip out and leave you neck bare in the deep v neck top you had put on this morning.

deep red and purple bruises litter your neck, all the way down to your breasts, disappearing off behind the lace borders of the neck of your top.

kento stares at you, smug and unclouded desire clear on his face. he slides his hands up and holds the sides of your neck firmly, squeezing slightly. he pulls you closer and your lips meet in a deep kiss, his thumbs rubbing slow circles on your cheek. the kiss leaves you breathless as he pulls away and leans back in to place on more kiss on your wet, parted lips, taking you by surprise.

"that's perfect," he thumbs on one of the hickies, eyes never leaving you. "my perfect girl."

warmth floods up your chest and face. a smile can't help but spread across your face as you lean into him.

"let's go, love. dinner, wine and that eleven thirty nap time awaits us," he chuckles, taking your hand, gathering your bag and turning away to leave, not a single glance given to aiko.

aiko!

you turn to her, a lazy, easy grin on your face, glancing to her phone open with kento's instagram, and then back up at her. "happy stalking!"

aiko and her friends are sure to spend the night pouring over kento's instagram, which is filled to the brim with pictures of you, you and him, food, you, travel and his girlfriend, you.

DO NOT REPOST

yay first fic!!!

likes, reblogs, comments HIGHLY appreciated 🩷

[amoosarte]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘, 𝐌.𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐍

SUMMARY ! in which I give you little headcanons on our pole sitter, who is sweet but spicy, and eventually will drive you insane.

WARNINGS ! +18, kinks, dirty talk, public sex mention, degradation, trust me it gets bewildering, the use of google translate dutch, and just sexual word !

NOTE ! this was a request made by @biancathecool, in which i will admit was a bit long ago, but here is the req you sent and I hope you enjoy it, again thank you for the sweet words !

The way, Max is a heavy sleeper and once he is able to relax in bed there no use in waking him. It's a pro and con in your relationship, you're automatically a night owl and he uses you as a pillow in which you don't mind but he does worry for you. "Schat, want me to make you tea? je moet gaan slapen.." He says as he snuggles into you, wanting to melt his body to become one with you, and with that you place your phone down and decide to sleep.

The way, Max starts to makeout with you is somewhat rushed and heated. Max likes to dive into your lips and eat you hole, there is no chance to breathe at first but he lets you after you exchange saliva for a bit. He loves to see you so dazed, makes him melt. "did you get weak in the knees, Schat?" He says before smirking, then going to kiss you again.

The way, Max is the type to always cling to you. His hand will always be on you, he never wants to let you go. He will hold anything your carrying, he will buy you everything you want, if only in exchange he gets to hold your hands during it. "Maxie, I just need to go check if this fits me.." "I'll go with you." He's like a lost child, always by your side.

The way, Max loves to be gentle with you in bed. He loves to thrust into you while running his rough hands on your delicate body. Only sweet words dripping out in such a low voice that make you wanna release all over him. "Taking me in so well, mijn leven." "Do you need a break, or can you keep you, Schat?" Max loves to look at you in all your glory, makes him want to become one with you.

The way, Max loves talking to you in his native tongue when you're just talking in bed. His words just feel so right in your ears, like you understand everything. You try to understand, Dutch is something you're trying to learn for him. He's drifting off to sleep bit by bit and he's rambling to you, and you love it. "Ik wil een hond bij je hebben, misschien een mooi huis met twee verdiepingen? En een tuin en een grote achtertuin voor onze kinderen, ik wil je voor altijd…." He says as his hums become snores and vibration on your chest.

The way, Max is a complete switch. He can be the bottom and would love it, he loves seeing you take control once in awhile. He's a vocal man, he will moan, he will let you know what he likes when you ride him. "Again, Mijn liefje, oh oh! harder.." He isn't scared to switch into a top again, you tease him too much, and well it was fun while it lasted.

The way, Max is a introvert but once you enter the paddock, he flips a switch and suddenly he's a extrovert. He is a golden retriever boyfriend only when you're around. This makes the fans go crazy, making him get flustered easily. "Yeah, I think we should stick to this plan, unless we want to– Schat!" He quickly leaves some engineer before running towards you, hugging you into a bone crushing hug.

The way, Max was a complete mess when you first did it. Let's be honest, he was a boy only interested in motor sport, he hadn't planned having a girlfriend so soon. He was a man who has never felt a sexual touch of a woman. "Like this? won't it hurt?" He would blabber questions during sex, not wanting to get anything wrong.

The way, Max tries to not get you to met his dad. He tell you everything, how he doesn't have a good relationship with his dad, only his mom and sister. How his dad made his childhood traumatic, and how he's an ass. In the end, you meeting him is inevitable. "Nice to meet you sir." You try to kindly smile at him and his harsh tone makes you ticked off. Then Max comes to your rescue and swoops you out of the situation. "Don't worry about him, Schat."

The way, Max has two kinks, and one of them is Impact play. He loves spanking you, making your skin become red and flush. Though it only started when you were teasing him too much, he gives your ass a good spank and it makes you moan out like a whore. So you ask him to do it again and it grows on him, he spanks you and you act like a whore and he loves it. "Like that? You're acting feral, Mijn liefje."

The way, Max is sappy for traditional love. He loves to take you out, loves to spoil you, loves to slow dance with you. He loves seeing you smile at him so softly. He loves to think of marrying you one day, to only have you in his life. "Did you love the flowers?" He says as he hugs you after a long day at work, he knows it cheers you up and helps you push through the day.

The way, Max's other kink is a edging kink. It goes two ways, he loves doing it to you or loves it being done to him. He loves watching your legs flinch hard, as you grip the white sheets and moan out. He speed up and then stops making you cry, he does it more until he lets you cum. "Sorry Schat.." he hums out. The other way would be him ties up and you teasing him to the core, he's all flushed and red, begging you to let him release and you don't let him, in which it makes him cry and you love that look on him.

The way, Max would think you're too sweet for him, not liking the fact that he couldn't reciprocate the feeling you gave to him, because he simply doesn't know how too. "Maxie why are you so deep in thought?" That is a question so over used, and simply he didn't know why. "You're too sweet for me." A saying that will always confuse you.

The way, Max absolutely looks so good when you're looking up at him while sucking him off while he plays sims. Like it would be a random night and you'd be clingy and eventually end up between his thighs, he needed to be quiet because he was on call. He would muffle, grumble everything, but when he looks down at you and you flutter your eyelashes at him, he will lose it and end the call and game.

The way, Max would come back home to see you wrapped around blankets and two cats on top of you. The three things he loved dearly in one place. Jimmy and Sassy, cuddled up into your warmth while you're asleep. Max would melt while trying to snuggle right next to you too.

MENTIONS ! @landitolover, @d6za1, @ch3rryknots @louvrepool

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉, ⟢ more!

[witherby]

im so scared for the sick bed fic... I cant do angst man!! I am a man for the fluff and the romance not the angst- i'll cry when angst

(my imaginary therapist will be hearing about the fic if i do start to cry.)

-🕯

I had to cut myself off because this got wayyy long. It's still way long but not as long as it could've been. Sorry for the wait but I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

The Littlest Wayne: Sick Bed, part 3

Masterlist is Here!

⚠️ Content warnings: funeral proceeding, temporary child death, hospital visits, paparazzi harassment, slightly-obsessive behaviors from Damian but in a light-hearted way ⚠️

The funeral is a quiet affair. The entirety of the League are in attendance on the Manor grounds, varying degrees of sympathy and mourning on their faces. It's a strange juxtaposition to the rare, sunny day Gotham is currently experiencing. Damian can't stand to see it.

His suit feels far too tight against his skin. He doesn't dare complain about it, because his brothers all look similarly disgusted to be dressed up for such a terrible occasion. Dick's sleeves are stained because he ran out of tissues to dab at his eyes, but he's still mustering up a smile and thanking everyone for coming. Jason is robotically stone-faced and glaring at the ground, hands clenched into fists by his side when they aren't shoved deep into the pockets of his suit jacket. Tim hasn't left Bruce's side, eyes rimmed with pink and gaze unseeing.

Bruce and Hal... They haven't looked anywhere in your direction since everyone stepped outside. Bruce is trying his absolute damndest to hold himself together until after the procession, face a careful mask of neutrality everyone is too polite to comment on, while he hugs Tim's shivering form to his chest and wordlessly accepts condolences from the other Leaguers. Hal, on the other hand, is almost expressing his grief on Bruce's behalf. His pockets are bulging with accumulating tissues and his face is red and blotchy. Diana comes and hugs him tight, and Damian watches him just about fall apart right there as he white-knuckles her dress and stifles his sobs against her shoulder.

Damian is...numb. He's a statue in the grass, staring uselessly around the area like he has any idea of how to proceed. He doesn't know what he should be doing. He doesn't know what he should be saying.

He just knows that he has failed, and you are dead.

A hand, featherlight, touches his shoulder. Damian turns and makes eye contact with Alfred, who until now has never looked his age before. At this moment, it feels like the man might follow in your footsteps any second, his skin pale and eyes sunken with familiar loss. He looks so tired and so sad. He looks frail, worn down from suffering yet another tragedy in the Wayne family.

"It's time," Alfred mutters, almost inaudible in its resignation. Damian clenches his jaw and lets out a slow breath, nodding.

He turns, catching Dick's eye. His oldest brother gets the memo and quickly grabs Jason and Tim, and together they all approach you.

"Alright, kiddo," Jason says, voice thin and shaking as he rests his palm on the top of your coffin, painted in all your favorite colors and beautifully crafted, "one last piggy-back ride, then it's bedtime."

The four of them take their positions around you, clutching the poles under your coffin, and lift, walking you to the plot a few yards away from Martha and Thomas. You are uncomfortably light, and your casket is uncomfortably small. Something a six-year-old should never, ever have to be placed in. Selfishly, Damian is glad that the lid is closed so he doesn't have to look upon your face and trick himself into thinking you're merely sleeping, that you'll wake up and smile at him and ask to play together again like it's just another day.

He wishes it were another day. Yearns for it so badly there's a physical ache in his chest.

Your plot is surrounded by sunflowers and your headstone has a carving of your beloved bat plushy on it. Damian knows the real one is carefully tucked into your arms, something for you to hold in that dark, little space and keep you company.

His hands are shaking as he and his brothers set you on the winch that will lower you into your final resting place. His heart is racing as Clark steps forward, solemnly volunteering to be the one to turn the crank and bid you goodbye. His head is spinning as he watches your coffin slowly but surely vanish into the ground, your life as his rambunctious and annoying and mundane and beautiful and lovely little sibling cut short.

Bruce finally breaks. He abruptly gasps and turns away and Hal clutches his arm to stop him from rushing off.

"I can't do this," he stammers, tears streaming down his face. "I can't, I can't — Hal, my baby, I lost another one —"

"I know," Hal whispers back, gathering Bruce into his arms as tight as he can and squeezing. Damian notes distantly that he's never seen his father look this small before. He watches his brothers and Alfred all converge to embrace Bruce, almost seeming to shield him from the sight of your grave, but he can't make himself join them. He feels rooted to the very ground that's now been shaped to cradle you, unable to do a thing but stare at your coffin when Clark finally lowers it all the way down.

Damian would surrender the Robin mantle a thousand times over, would go and take down the remaining League of Assassins, would end his own life without hesitation, if it stood even the faintest chance of bringing you back. All the years spent resenting you over a title that's been passed down to all of Bruce's children, all the years you've shown him nothing but love and adoration as one of your older brothers, when he could barely stand to be in your presence as you grew older...

For what?

You died knowing that three of your brothers thought you hung the moon and stars in the sky, while the fourth snubbed you for the sake of a competition he'd conjured entirely in his mind. It was not worth it. It had never been worth it.

Damian's vision is blurring. People around him are talking, either to him or each other, but he can't tell who they are. Can't make out the words. Can't understand anything except the dirt being shoveled over your lifeless body. He wants to scream at Diana and Oliver and J'onn and Dinah, wants to demand they put those damned shovels down and get you out of there, wants to pry the lid open and hold you to his chest until he can track your pulse again, he wants, he wants, he wants.

His head hurts. His heart is racing. He's so angry. He's so scared. He's so upset. He misses you, he loves you, he needs you to wake up.

He needs you to not be dead.

"Please," he sobs, giving into his grief and collapsing into the grass and sunflowers. All his careful stoicism and detachment is falling apart. How dare the field look so beautiful in the wake of this nightmare? Doesn't it know you lie among it now? Doesn't it understand the tragedy that's occurred? The wet earth squelches under his hands as he forms fists in the ground.

"Come back. Please come back, I'm sorry! I take it back, I take everything back! Don't leave!"

"Damian..." Someone mutters soothingly to him. A hand touches his back but he doesn't want it. He just wants you. He wants to see you open your eyes and be alive again. He wants his family whole again. "Damian."

"Don't leave!" He cries again. The ground under him becomes a strange texture as the hand on his back starts rubbing soothing circles against his blazer. It's soft, and pliant, and no longer damp. When he blinks, the sunflowers are gone. Your plot is gone. The tombstone is gone. "W-wait...where'd you...where's..."

"Damian," Bruce murmurs behind him. That can't be right, though, Bruce is a dozen feet away and crying over your grave. Why does he sound so calm all of a sudden? "Open your eyes, chum, it's just a bad dream."

It's...a what?

Damian's head feels like mush when he snaps his eyes open. He sits up in his bed and looks around in a panic. Bruce is there, sitting on the edge of the mattress with a small, concerned frown.

"Dami—"

"Move!" Damian snaps, throwing the covers off and scrambling to his feet. Bruce doesn't stop him as he runs to the window and leans out, scanning the grounds until he can just barely make out his grandparents' headstones in the distance.

There's no hole next to them. No newly-planted sunflowers in the field. No signs of a funeral about to be held.

He feels his body un-tense.

"A nightmare?" He still asks, cautious. Bruce nods. Damian slumps entirely and walks into his father's arms, groaning low and deep while he regains his composure. "I hate this. Take me back to the hospital."

"You know it's not your turn," Bruce says, rubbing the heel of his palm slowly and firmly up and down Damian's back to encourage calm breathing. "Tim's there with Hal for the day. Then it's Dick and Jason's turn, then you and Alfred get to go see them in the morning."

"I'll make one of them switch with me."

"That's not fair. The rest of us deserve to see them, too."

Damian fists his father's shirt and tries not to snap at him. It's not the point. Of course anybody can see you when they want, but he promised to stay. It was the only thing you asked of him before you fell into another seizure and had to be whisked off to the intensive care ward under a code blue. Damian had pitched a fit so bad when he wasn't allowed to follow after the staff that it ended up in a gossip column the next day:

YOUNGEST WAYNE SON TERRORIZES ICU STAFF AT GOTHAM GENERAL

Billionaire son tries to throw his weight around to get access to restricted area!

Bruce already has his lawyers stepping on the publisher's necks about it, but no one is mad at Damian for what happened. He saw you flat-lining, freaked out, and just wanted to stay by you to ensure your health and safety. Being told he couldn't was an understandably-frightening thing, but it also isn't good for him to just hover around the hospital waiting for your condition to approve, either.

That's why Damian is currently home. Bruce pulled him from school for the week, citing a family emergency, and created the visitation schedule they're all currently following.

Damian doesn't want to adhere to the schedule. He wants to be in your hospital room where he assured you he would remain.

He promised he would stay with you. If something happens to you and he's not there...

Bruce shifts, giving Damian a gentle squeeze to get his attention. He offers him a small, encouraging smile despite the worry lines furrowing his own brow.

"I know that face. You're following in your father's footsteps and catastrophizing again. Refocus some of that energy and come shopping with me."

"Retail therapy? I'm not five, father. Not interested."

"Hnn...let me rephrase: come shop for some "get well soon" gifts for Mouse with me."

Damian stands up and walks into his closet to get ready for the day, already plucking up the shirt and pants he wants to change into.

"Why didn't you lead with that? I'll meet you in the car," he calls. Bruce's gentle laughter trails behind him as he exits Damian's bedroom.

--

You wake up to the sounds of harsh whispering and crinkling plastic. Cracking an eye open feels like lifting the world's heaviest weights, but eventually you manage to focus your vision on your grandpa, dad and brother trying (and failing) to quietly set a bunch of things down on your bedside table.

"...u-um..." You croak, throat dry. Bruce's, Alfred's, and Damian's heads turn in your direction.

"Hi, Mouse."

"Good morning, young master."

"You're awake."

Their voices overlap each other, washing over you and making you smile instinctively. You lift your hand and wave a little. Damian thrusts the crinkly gift basket he was holding into Bruce's hands and approaches you, threading your fingers together.

"Hi," you greet him quietly. You lift your free hand and scratch your nose, briefly displacing the oxygen mask on your face. Damian readjusts it when you're done, looking solemn.

"I'm sorry," he says. You stare at him, confused, and his cheeks flush as he opens and closes his mouth, searching for the right words. "I... wasn't here during your second seizure. The hospital staff wouldn't let anyone stay with you, so I was forced to leave my post —"

"Ohh," you exclaim, then let out a raspy giggle. The red on his face gets even worse. "I forgive you."

"...what?"

You clear your throat. It's very hoarse and dry, but it doesn't hurt as bad as before. "I said...I forgive you, Dami. S'not your fault."

Bruce and Alfred are trying not to look amused. They're failing. Damian looks like you've told him something in one of the few languages he doesn't understand. His grip on your hand briefly tightens.

"What!?"

You sigh, about to repeat yourself again, but your brother shakes his head and furrows his brow.

"I broke my promise immediately after I made it!"

"I know."

"You were alone in here for hours!"

"Yeah, I know."

"Even now, everyone is on a stupid visitor's rotation that only has me here for the mornings!"

You nod. "I know."

"Then why aren't you mad at me!?"

You huff. "Because it makes you sad. I don't want you to be sad, Dami."

Bruce can't stop himself from muttering "oh, so precious," but Damian doesn't pay him any mind. He spent two days agonizing over this for nothing. Because you just took his explanation and his apology at face value, and forgave him.

"What if I lied?" He blurts, because of course he inherited his father's incessant need to pry, to work every angle of a problem until he reaches full understanding. "What if I didn't intend to stay?"

You smile again, pulling your plush bat out from under your blanket.

"You brought me Squimby," you state, like that answered everything. "You remembered to get him for me. You're not a meanie, Dami. You're my big brother."

Even Alfred makes a gentle humming noise at that. Damian feels all of the fight and stress and tension leave him, utterly helpless in the face of your unconditional love.

"Okay," he mutters. You grin.

"Hug?"

"Oh." He glances at Bruce and Alfred over his shoulder. "Uh."

"Hug," you demand now, tugging on his hand. "I'm sick. Gimme a hug."

Damian narrows his eyes. "Todd becomes infinitely more demanding when he's sick. He taught you this, didn't he? It's very unbecoming —"

You cough weakly, forcing your arms to tremble. Damian's lips press into a thin line, and he gently gathers you to his chest for a tight hug.

"Unbecoming," he whispers in your ear. You just grin and hold him back.

"You have to hug Squimby, too."

"Great. Of course I do. We can't allow Squimby to get jealous."

"Nope!" You grin, popping the P. Damian can hear Bruce snapping pictures behind him and relents to the mild embarrassment. In truth, he doesn't mind the hug at all. He just isn't amenable to public displays of affection. For you, though, he's quickly realizing he would do anything.

"Alright. Come here, Squimby. You get your hug and then Flit can open their presents."

"I'd like a hug," Bruce says.

"Squimby gets his hug and then Flit opens presents."

Bruce pouts. Alfred hides a smile behind his hand. Your laugh is hoarse, but bright.

--

"Thank you all for taking care of me!"

Several of the hospital staff "aww" and smile at you as Tim wheels you down the halls. You clutch your plush toy to your chest and grin, waving at familiar faces.

You spent a week in the hospital fighting a bad combination of pneumonia and the flu. The bright light constantly beating down on you had actually worsened it, due to the nature of your Umbrakinesis, which caused the second seizure. You spent most of your treatment after that in a darkened room receiving lots of fluids and antibiotics to help you fight it off, until finally the last of your fever broke. Then you were cleared to finish recovering at home with some more prescriptions to take.

"Bye!" You wave again, smiling at the staff near the exit. Some of them echo it back to you and wish you well, and then you're outside and breathing in fresh air for the first time in eight days.

Of course, living in Gotham, the peace doesn't last. You're almost immediately inundated with flashing lights and reporters hovering around the entrance, snapping pictures of you and Tim. You frown, hiding your face in your bat toy while your brother walks past like they don't even exist.

"Mister Drake! A quote for the Gotham Gazette about the scandal surrounding Damian Wayne's behavior in the ER?"

"Tim! Timmy over here! Gotham News is asking how the little one is fairing!"

"Mx. Wayne! Any comment on your hospital visit, sweetie?"

"Mx. Wayne, look over here, look at the camera! I'll give you a lollipop if you give us a biiiig smile!"

You shake your head a little. More cameras flash, and you hear the sound of a car door slamming several yards ahead of you.

"At least tell us how you're feeling! The people wanna know if you're okay!"

"Tim, any diagnoses we should be made aware of?"

"Just give us a wave, honey! Lemme see that hospital bracelet!"

Something brushes against your wrist. Tim barks at the reporter who touched you to back up in a tone you've never heard from him before. It's loud and rough and no-nonsense, promising hefty consequences if there's no obedience.

"For God's sake, you vultures, we're still in the parking lot of the damn hospital!" Tim continues, pushing your wheelchair faster across the asphalt. "Move out of the way!"

"Just one quote for the column please!" Another reporter asks, grabbing your hand entirely this time.

You don't get the chance to react. Tim barely gets to reach for the man dumb enough to touch you. He's there one second and gone the next, removed from your side and thrown across the parking lot by one, hulking, furious Jason Todd-Wayne. He's in a sleeveless hoodie and jeans, fists clenched, standing at his full height, and glaring at everybody around as though daring them to try something next.

No one makes a sound. No one flexes a muscle. The gathered crowd just stands and stares and struggles to process what they're seeing. Who they're seeing. Because what the fuck, is that actually the dead son? How long has he been back? And why is he absolutely shredded?

You lift your head just enough to spot your brother and raise your arms, pouting. The easy familiarity only stirs up more questions no one is brave enough to ask.

"Jay-Jay..."

Jason looks at you and his entire person softens. Gone is the frightening, brick shithouse of a man and instead there's the kind and sweet boy he was before his apparently not-death.

"Hey, Mousey. Ready to go home?"

He steps forward and scoops you up in one arm, then comes around the wheelchair and grabs Tim in the other. Tim does not protest.

"Move." It's one syllable, quietly spoken, and seems to lower the temperature around them by several degrees. Reporters and columnists part like the Red Sea for him as he marches towards the car. Alfred holds the door open as Tim is ushered inside, then you're carefully buckled in after, then Jason follows suit.

The door is closed, the butler nods to the crowd, then he gets in and drives off.

The reporter on the ground finally sits up with a groan.

"Was that Jason Todd?"

--

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Jay."

"Thanks, Ma."

Hal smirks and shakes his head, dropping the newspaper on the breakfast table and sighing. He's only rolled out of bed ten minutes ago and every news site he checks is losing their minds talking about the "magically-resurrected Wayne boy." Bruce is undoubtedly going to frame some of the articles when he wakes up, because he's sappy like that.

"Everybody in this family is so dramatic."

"Didn't you come back from a three-week mission and make B piggy-back you around 'cause you were "gonna die and pass away and perish and die without human contact?"" Tim asks, pointing his pancake-filled fork at him.

"I'm pleading the Fifth," says Hal, snatching Tim's fork and eating the stolen pancake. Tim's cry of rage just makes it taste that much sweeter.

"I plead seven!"

Hal, Jason, and Tim all face the doorway where you stand, smiling sleepily at them and shuffling into the dining room. You lift your arms when you're beside Hal and he sweeps you into his lap, scooting his chair back so you aren't squished between him and solid mahogany.

"You're not seven yet, Mouse," Hal smiles. "Two and a half more weeks."

"Two and a half more weeks!" You echo. Your voice is still quieter and raspier than usual, but your energy is coming back in leaps and bounds and you've got the strength to travel short distances around the Manor as you recover —

"Flit! Return to bed immediately!!"

— much to one person's distress.

You grin and hide your face in Hal's chest, clinging to his shirt. Footsteps stomp down the corridor and Damian bursts into the dining room, locking in on you.

"Why did you leave your room?" He demands. "You have to take another round of medicine in eight minutes."

"Bored," you mumble into Hal's chest. "Lonely."

Damian huffs, opening his arms and looking insistently at the Lantern.

"I will keep you company, in your room. Release them, space cop."

Hal, in a scarily-accurate imitation of Bruce, lifts one eyebrow while his lips are pursed and crosses one leg over the other, hugging you tighter to his chest.

"I don't think I will, Ninja wannabe."

Damian scowls. "I'm not a wannabe if I was literally trained to be a —"

"Can't hear you, I'm cuddling Mouse."

"Yes you can! Those are two completely separate senses!"

"You hear somethin' honey?" Hal asks you.

"Nooo," you grin. "Just you, mama!"

"That's right. Just me." Hal grins right back, booping your nose. "And me says you can take your medicine anywhere; it doesn't have to be in your room."

Damian throws his hands up and stomps away in defeat, off to fetch your prescription. His absence makes you relax a little.

You love your brother very much, but he's been a bit overbearing since your return home. You understand it's because he's worried you'll get sicker again, and you definitely comply when he takes your temperature and gives you the medication, but...

Well. You're entirely unused to this level of attention from Damian. Dick is attentive, Jason is attentive, Tim is mostly attentive but sometimes gets sidetracked, and Damian? Before this, getting Damian to interact with you for more than two minutes felt like trying to getting blood from a stone.

He's never been mean. You know he loves you. He just never went out of his way to spend a whole lot of time with you, especially as Robin. It feels like a switch has been flipped and now he's making up for lost time. You don't mind it but you do want a little breathing room.

"Okay, here," Damian says, walking back in with the medicine already dosed out in the special measuring spoon it came with. The pale, pink liquid makes you pout. "Take this."

"Ugh," you groan. "Don't wanna..."

"You gotta," Jason pipes up, sipping coffee from Bruce's pilfered World's Okayest Dad mug. "Them's the rules. But you can have some pancakes after t'wash the taste out."

You grumble and pout and fuss, but no one lets you get away with it. Eventually, you open your mouth and let Damian feed you the antibiotics as though you were still an infant. He immediately hands you a juice box afterwards.

"Thank you," he says, taking the spoon into the kitchen to wash it. "We'll do that again in six hours."

You watch him leave from your spot in Hal's lap, little six-year-old brain spinning its wheels in your best attempt to understand where the change is coming from.

But then you start yawning, because it turns out walking the equivalent of a quarter-mile from your room to the breakfast table when you're still recovering from a compound-illness is exhausting, and find that you just don't care.

You are loved by everyone in your family, and you love them back. As Damian takes a seat at the table and starts cutting up some pancakes for you, insistent on hand-feeding much to the amusement of Jason and Tim, you content yourself with that being enough.

"Dami?" You say between bites. His eyes snap to you immediately, hyper-attentive. "Thanks for taking care of me."

His ears go pink and his mouth twitches like he's trying not to smile. Damian averts his gaze.

"Always," he mutters.

[sugawhaaa]

🥀🕸STRAY KIDS MASTERLIST🕸🥀

🕸•《Codes》•🕸

smut=🥀

fluff=🍬

audio=🎧

brainrot/drabble=🕸

Angst= 🚩

Hybrid series=🐾

Headcanons=🍫

I'm experiencing some technical issues with some of the audios but I will fix it soon 🍒

OT8/MUTLI MEMBERS/HCS/ETC

🥀🍬-walking in on you having sex

🍬-comforting your insecurities

🥀🍬-lovebites

🥀🍬-you tell them you're hypersexual

🥀-first time creampie

🥀-lingerie they like to see you in

🥀-the type of women they like in bed

🕯-demon skz masterlist

Bangchan

🎧- ns/fw audio

🎧-part. 2

🥀-never sleep

Lee know

🥀🍬-last night

🎧-sub Lee know

🕸-blow jobs

🥀-backstage

🚩🗡🕸-the birth of a demon

🥀🍬-the first gift

🥀-the first gift [part 2]

🥀-your favorite

Changbin

🎧-

Hyunjin

🎧-

🎧-eating you out

🌹- "If love was poison we'd drink it anyway" epilogue

🥀-bold colour

Felix

🎧-gentle handjob

🎧- ns/fw audio

🍬🥀-your body

🕸🍬-the eighth sin

🎧-your first time <3

🥀🐾-so full

Han

🎧-experimenting with a new toy

🎧- ns/fw audio

🕸- tit obsessed

🥀-chocolate

🥀🍬-am I hurting you?

🍬🥀-golden hour

🎧-making him ride you

🥀🐾-four months and two weeks

🥀🍬-trust me

Seungmin

🎧-

🎧-

I.N

🎧-riding him

🎧-

🥀🍬-rainism

🥀-I.N's hands

🥀-look up

🥀-sex with Jeongin

🥀🐾-innocence

🕸🥀Thank you for reading🥀🕸

☆-All content in these writings is purely fictional and for the purpose of creativity and imagination-☆

🕸older posts may not be added here for numerous reasons🕸

[nymphea0]

His Youngest Wife

Yan! Count Lysander Albert x Wife Reader

Manhwa : Marronnier Farm Near by the Imperial Palace / Marronnier Farm Next to the Imperial Palace / 宮殿の隣のマロニエ農場 / 皇宮裡的馬洛尼埃農場 / 황제궁 옆 마로니에 농장 / My Farm by the Palace​

Author/Illustrations : Jung yeon / Ollcha(Art)

Manhwa : Fluff / Comedy / Fantasy Manhwa (17-18+).

Ilustrations Acount : ollcha🐥🕯

Count word : 1585 word.

HAPPY NEW YEARS MY DEARS🦋🎆. Is late but hope this years all our wishlist will be came true. this is the fic that i promised a few days ago, i hope you like old men like Lysander hahaha, he's so handsome, i can't hold back, and the fact the manhwa was warm slice of life genre and comedy, and all the chara was good and chef kiss! I think soons i will make other chara in this manhwa🤭, anyways, enjoy my story, i try my best to make it fluff but i guess is fail? Well, i hope you all have a happy new year, much love- Neva🦋🦋

might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

.

.

.

In the Bratania Empire, a prosperous, wealthy and stable Empire. Led by Emperor Iskandar Lionslore Deon Alekto. A handsome young emperor aged 22 years.

Under the emperor's division. There are 4 holy knight commanders

Namely;

Commander of the Holy Wood Knight of the High Elf Family.

Commander of the Holy Flame Knight of the High Vampire 'Noble One.'

Commander of the Warbear Family Knight.

Last was Commander of the Holy Wind Knight of the Golden Cat Sith Family. A 19-year-old cat fairy boy.

But... there is one noble who is right beside the emperor, Count Lsyander Albert.

The man who holds the responsibility for the internal affairs of the imperial palace and is also the direct representative of all Pro-Commoners.

The man who has entered his thirties, unfortunately... does not have a wife.

The reason is quite simple, namely because he is too busy working and does not have time to think about household problems.

Until one day, here he was, standing in front of the emperor who was busy staring at the small hut, watching his farmer neighbor and saying ideas that didn't make sense to him.

"Your Majesty, I believe that the idea of ​​getting married at my age of 3 years old, is somewhat unethical"

Is, the emperor who was busy staring at his neighbor's house just snorted biasedly.

"Count. You know your age is no longer young, ethical or not, there is no prohibition for someone to marry, old or young as long as it is in accordance with the law"

Is looked at the count then patted the count's shoulder gently.

"Count, are you worry theres no one women want you?"

"Your Majesty?!"

Count Lysander stared in disbelief at the emperor's clear words.

As for Is? He just chuckled as he walked away leaving the order, which for Albert was very difficult.

"You have 2 weeks, Count, get married or you will take care of all the internal work of the empire"

The Count just sighed roughly, while thinking in his mind, where could he find a wife?

.

. .

For a week he searched for a wife, nobles, highborn ladies, even commoners to smallfolk he searched, but none of them fit his criteria.

Until entering the second week .. exactly one day before the 3rd week appeared. He met a woman, from a bankrupt noble family. A baron. A noble with a title but without power or wealth. His old heart beat fast as if he was drinking his favorite coffee even though he was drinking coffee, when he saw you he felt his life was in front of his eyes, he fell in love for the first time.

Working hard in a small grocery store, supporting himself. That woman is you, At first the count courted you in a normal and formal way. But you were too shy and always ran away when you saw him.

Until the count decided to use coercion, kidnapping you by force and marrying you by force.

.

.

You, a young woman who is only 20 years old, still single and has never had a boyfriend, struggling to make a living by running a small grocery store, suddenly a man who is already in his thirties seduces you, for you the man is handsome, of course, from the way he dresses to how neat his hair is, you know, this person is an insider of the emperor. A noble.

Even though you are also a noble, the title of baron that you inherited from your parents means nothing.

But here you are?! In a luxurious room that you are sure, even the bathroom is bigger than the dilapidated hut where you live!

Unfortunately you want to run away but can't, because the one who married you is none other than, Count Lysander Albert. The emperor's official aide as the person in charge of internal imperial affairs and also the representative of the common people.

.

.

Lysander, for the past 2 weeks has been observing his wife carefully, his wife who is so young and beautiful, different from himself who is old and looks more like a father than a husband.

During the day, Lysander did not dare to sleep in the same room or even touch you as the first night of the bride and groom. He felt very inappropriate to be with you.

Until one day, Lysander accidentally passed the garden in his residence. Seeing his beautiful and pretty wife, chatting friendly with several noble ladies there.

But the topic of their conversation was what made him silent and wipe his face.

Lady Istar and Lady Maurien. The two women openly spoke so brazenly and boldly to you.

"Lady... seeing how far your relationship with the count is, I do not expect more, the count is old lady. So lady do not be sad if the count cannot satisfy lady. That is normal, right lady Istar". Lady Mauren with sympathy made to pat your arm gently with fake sympathy.

"If I were you, I will certainly try my best to please the Count with my efforts, haa.. the Count is a perfect husband, even though he is old"

Meanwhile, Lady Istar, could only laugh awkwardly hearing Lady Maurien's bold words!.

"Thank you for your concern, Lady Maurien, but the issue of whether or not my husband is able to give me pleasure, that is my business, not yours. Excuse me"

You decided to leave the garden, arguing with the two noble ladies only drained your energy, for you, Lady Maurien's intentions were very clear. Jealousy, even though the Count was already in his 30s, his handsomeness had not faded at all, unmatched wealth, power equal to the emperor, even, being the emperor's father figure when he was little.

.

.

Tonight, you slept alone as usual, the room was this big. Even the husband who married you by force had not shown his face for the past 2 days. It had been 2 days since you had been married to the count.

You were on the balcony, enjoying the night view, only to be surprised by the door to your room being opened roughly.

Turning around, there you saw, your husband, Count Lysander Albert. With hair that was... quite messy and untidy as usual.

The distance between the room and the balcony was also not that far, you could smell the scent of his expensive musk mint cologne at night with the cold air.

"Wife"

His hoarse voice with a deep that makes your hair stand on end. Lysander, looking at you who is so beautiful tonight, you are always beautiful in his eyes, always and forever. With a simple white nightgown, loose hair that moves softly due to the night wind.

"Wife, do you think.. I am like what they say?"

The sudden question made you think deeply, who does your husband mean as "they"?.

"I don't understand what you mean, husband and-" before you could finish your sentence, you were cut off by him first.

"Old and impotent, can't give you pleasure because I'm old, do you think I'm like that?"

Lysander stood right in front of you, gently holding your chin so that you looked right at him.

"Did... husband hear the conversation in the garden?". You felt that you were walking between fragile ice, just asking the wrong question. It could be that your relationship with your husband who was already distant became even more distant.

"Just answer, yes or no"

With a low growl Lysander stared at me sharply.

"I don't-"

"Are you not sure?"

Roughly and frankly Albert quickly pulled your waist, pressing your lips gently to meet, soft and warm, Lysander expertly explored every inch of your mouth and teeth, making sure every corner remembered him.

Gently releasing your embrace, Lysander brought your foreheads together, speaking softly.

"Wife... I know, I forced you to marry this old man, you must not love me either, but my dear, allow me to love you, show you, that I am not just an old man, I am also not impotent my dear wife"

Lysander gently led you into the room laying you down on the bed gently.

"Allow me, to show you, how good I can make you feel good, make you pregnant, make you the mother of my children in the future"

Lysander kissed your forehead gently, down to your neck and kissed your neck passionately with full of love.

"My love, I will show you, how long I can devour you, cry or beg, don't expect me to stop before you pass out"

That night, lit by the full moon that was willing to peek from the window, illuminating the high and beautiful sky at night.

Lysander or people who knew him as Count Lysander Albert, the prime minister of law under the emperor directly, claimed so confidently his wife for the first time, carrying out their first night that they did not have time to do.

Just when you had passed out unable to keep up with the brutality of your husband Albert. Lysander just stopped, chuckled softly before kissing your forehead affectionately, cleaning your entire body with love until it was clean and putting on his clothes that were big enough for you.

Hugging you gently, Lysander looked at you with love. Lysander whispered softly in the quiet night.

"Sleep my wife, I love you, even if the world ends, I will look for you to the end of the world, my wife. My love"

.

.

.

Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

©️Nymphea0 2024 ,OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Story.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

[lay-z]

🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️ | 18+

Hello, lovelies! 🩷

Welcome to this year's holiday treat:

✨️ The Call of Duty: Advent Calendar 2024 🎅🏼

This masterlist will (hopefully) be updated daily, starting on December 1st, 2024.

I hope you'll have as much fun reading this as I had writing these drabbles/oneshots! ☺️ This is basically a collection of different AU's, though you will be part of TF-141 in one way or another in almost all of them.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are very, very much appreciated! Have a blessed Christmas season. Now grab some hot chocolate and cookies and enjoy reading! ☕️🍪🩷

🎁 Day 1 – All I want for Christmas (is you)

↳ John/Soap x fem!Reader | smut, 18+

🌨 Day 2 – Quaint

↳ Simon/Ghost x fem!Reader

🎅🏼 Day 3 – Altruism

↳ Kyle/Gaz x fem!Reader | fluff

✨️ Day 4 – Mama's boy

↳ John Price x fem!Reader | fluff

🦌 Day 5 – Bambi

↳ Soap x fem!Reader x Gaz

🌲 Day 6 – A Christmas tree disaster

↳ Ghost x fem!Reader x Soap | smut, 18+

❄️ Day 7 – Make do

↳ TF-141 x fem!omega!Reader | fluff, omegaverse

🍷 Day 8 – Dinner time

↳ Price x fem!Reader x Gaz | smut, 18+

💒 Day 9 – Separated

↳ John/Soap x fem!Reader | smut, 18+

🕊 Day 10 – Santa Soap and his most dangerous mission

↳ Simon/Ghost x fem!Reader | fluff

☃️ Day 11 – Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!

↳ Kyle/Gaz x fem!Reader | smut, 18+

💍 Day 12 – Family heirloom

↳ John Price x fem!Reader | fluff

👑 Day 13 – The Ice Queen and her Stooges

↳ Soap x fem!Reader x Gaz | smut, 18+

🎄 Day 14 – A Christmas miracle

↳ Simon x fem!Reader x Soap | smut, 18+

🇸🇪 Day 15 – Domestic bliss

↳ poly!TF-141 x fem!omega!Reader | smut, 18+, omegaverse

🎀 Day 16 – Driving home for Christmas

↳ Price x fem!Reader x Gaz | smut, 18+

🧸 Day 17 – Christmas elf gone rogue

↳ John/Soap x fem!Reader | fluff

💚 Day 18 – Ghost in the streets, Grinch in the sheets

↳ Simon/Ghost x fem!Reader | smut, 18+

🛍 Day 19 – Jolly Holly Christmas

↳ Kyle/Gaz x fem!Reader | fluff

💝 Day 20 – Baby, it's cold outside

↳ John Price x fem!Reader | smut, 18+

🕯Day 21 – The most wonderful time

↳ John/Soap x fem!Reader | smut, 18+

☕️ Day 22 – Reminiscing

↳ Simon/Ghost x fem!Reader | fluff

💫 Day 23 – Fairytale

↳ Kyle/Gaz x fem!Reader | smut, 18+

⛄️ Day 24 – Snowman

↳ John Price x fem!Reader | fluff

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

another req.... lando with desi reader struggling with spice, he is trying to keep a brave face because theyre with family... but is suffering so bad lmaooooo while reader is relaxed lol.. and then lan doesnt hear the end of it obviously because thats our ghora pakora

gora pakora ୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ

·˚ ༘ ln x desi!reader 𓌉◯𓇋

·˚ ༘ fluff 𓌉◯𓇋

masterlist ☾☼

the dining room buzzed with chatter, laughter, and the occasional clang of serving spoons as platters of rich, aromatic food were passed around. lando sat stiffly at the long dining table, flanked by you on one side and your cousins on the other. the desi family hospitality was in full swing, with heaping servings of butter chicken, biryani, naan, and more spread out like a feast for royalty.

lando was no prince, but tonight he was treated like one. a fact that would have been delightful if he weren't trying to survive the heat level of the food.

"so, lando, how's it going?" one of the uncles asked with a hearty laugh as he watched him load his plate.

lando smiled tightly. "great! love the food, smells amazing.

and it did smell amazing. the problem was, his first bite had already set his mouth ablaze. his tongue felt like it was tangoing with fire. but he couldn't back out now. not when everyone was watching.

he glanced to you, sitting calm and composed, spooning extra spicy curry onto your plate like it was nothing.

"how are you doing this?" he whispered, his voice little louder than the laughter and chatter.

you looked up, puzzled. "doing what?"

"this." he pointed delicately to your plate, then drank some water. "it's like you're immune."

you arched an eyebrow, smiling in resistance. "lan, this is mild."

his eyes went wide. "mild?!" He had whispered the words, but they sounded like he'd yelled them across the family. some of the family members gave him some inquisitive glances, so he tried to cover that by laughing and shoving a huge chunk of naan into his mouth to swallow the flames. that didn't work.

one of your aunts spotted the discomfort. "lando beta, is the food okay?"

he nodded furiously, swallowing down what felt like molten lava. "oh, absolutely. delicious! best i've ever had."

you nudged him, barely concealing your laugh. "you don't have to lie, you know."

"yes, i do," he hissed through gritted teeth. "they'll never let me live it down."

by the third course, his brave face began to crack. his forehead was glistening with sweat, his cheeks were flushed, and he was on his fourth glass of water. meanwhile, you leaned over with an innocent smile and whispered, "you okay there, gora pakora?"

the nickname nearly made him choke. he gave you a half-hearted glare. "i am never going to hear the end of this, am I?

you had the audacity to smirk, patting his hand. "nope."

after dinner, lando excused himself to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. his reflection told the story: red cheeks, sweat-dampened curls, and an expression that fairly shrieked, "what did I just survive?"

they reached the living room, where family gathered for chai and desserts. mango kulfi brightened up his face. he hoped his battered palate needed some soothing.

you made a place for yourself at the table; your cousin shifted over with an open grin to him.

"so, lando," the cousin started, "heard you race. pretty sure you were racing that curry tonight.

the room erupted in laughter, and lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. “oh, come on. cut me some slack.”

your dad chimed in, holding his tea with a twinkle in his eye. “you’ve got to build up your spice tolerance, beta. start slow, work your way up. like training for a race.”

lando lifted his head, trying for a playful glare. "i'll have you know, i'm very good under pressure. just not this kind of pressure."

"you'll get there," your mom said kindly, passing him a plate of sweets. "here, have some gulab jamun. no spice, promise."

he took a bite and sighed in relief as the sugary syrup melted in his mouth. "finally, something safe."

you leaned closer, grinning. “you’re such a drama queen. it wasn’t that bad.”

he raised an eyebrow. “not that bad? my tongue’s considering retirement.”

by the time everyone left, the family had officially adopted Lando as their favorite comedic punching bag. As lando and you walked to the car, the cool night air providing much-needed relief, he let out a long sigh.

"i could not have taken it sitting down," he said, turning to look at her. "I would have died before that."

"oh god, that was the spiciest meal i've ever had in my life,"

"what about the quadrant hot wings video?" you teased. "besides, your little drama was cute."

he turned and stopped on the sidewalk, staring at you. "cute? cute? i nearly fought my life over there!"

you let out a giggle, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the car. "alright, mere gore pakore, let's go before you start crying again."

he groaned, shaking his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “alright, gora pakora’s getting his revenge next week. you’re trying british cuisine.”

you laughed. “deal. good luck finding something with flavor.”

his mock-offended gasp was drowned out by your laughter as thw two of you drove off, the night filled with the sound of your banter—and his not-so-subtle vow to conquer spice one day.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

i hope you like it! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry

[minminyoonjii]

hiiii i really love your skz writings and had an idea for a request. the pairing is 3racha x afab!reader.

so in the beginning they’re all having sex. like 3racha had a rough day and take it out on reader a little. at first readers really loves but when the slaps on the butt get too hard and too many, the grip on her body parts get too tight, the 8th orgasm is too much and reader suddenly gets chocked it gets too much. reader says the safeword. so it’s smut to angst to fluff cause id really love a happy ending where 3racha comfort reader and reader comforts 3racha with aftercare as well.

i hope you like my idea!!🙌

take care💗💗

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🕯Summary: Needy men equal to multiple orgasms. It's not your fault that they like dragging every last bit of pleasure from your body.

🌹CW

Blowjob|Squirting|Multiple Orgasms|Very Rough Sex|Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Fingering|Dirty Talk|Threesome|Cum Eating|Cunnilingus|Safewords|Spanking|Choking|Mating Press |Commanding Tone|Teasing|Dom! Changbin|Dom! Chan|Degrading Praise Kink|Free Use Aes|Manhandling|Exhibitionism|Daddy Kink|Reader Likes It Rough|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.5K

"Baby," Jisung whined, plopping onto your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, "Ji?" you chuckled, rubbing his ears. Jisung hummed, burrowing his face into your tummy, "Channie hyung was so mean today," he complained, kissing your belly button. "I was not," Chan scoffed, brushing his hair back. You giggled, squishing Jisung's sulking cheeks. "Hyung, have you heard of lying? I want the baby to comfort me," he grumbled, clinging closer to you. Changbin sighed, "Sungie, you know better than to lie for pity," he said, pulling Jisung off your lap. 

Chan clenched his jaw, frustration still dwelling in his mind, "Princess could you help us?" he asked, his eyes hooded and dark. You gulped, sitting straighter. "Yes, Daddy," you said, loving the chance to bring them pleasure. Chan chuckled, patting your head, his fingers tugging on your hair slightly, "Get on your knees for me, yeah?" he instructed, sitting down where you sat as you kneel between his thighs.  

You sat patiently, waiting for his command. Chan hissed, tugging down his sweatpants, his throbbing cock slapping against his torso, "Put your mouth to work, princess," he chuckled, brushing back your hair. You eagerly licked the base of his cock, your tongue flattened as you trailed upwards. Chan groaned,  resting his head back against the couch. You smiled wrapping your lips around his pulsing throbbing cockhead, drawing a loud grunt past his lips. 

You whimpered at his reaction, bobbing your head. "Hah, fuck. Princess, hollow your cheeks," he grits, pushing your head down. Your whines vibrated down his veiny hot shaft, his balls tensed up from the  pleasure. "Shit, ah!" he growled, using your hair as leverage to fuck up your mouth. You slacked your jaw, taking in his girthy length, his cockhead brushing against your uvula. A loud squelchy pop echoed within the room when his tip penetrated past your throat. 

Chan clenched his teeth, "Fucking hell, you feel so good. Your little mouth was just meant for taking cock isn't it," he growled, wiping the tears dripping down your cheeks as he quickened his pace. Your gags spurred his arousal, "Take it. Take my fucking cock," he grunted, thrusting his hips. You clawed his pants, breathing heavily past your nose. Chan growled, pulling you off his cock, "Good girl. Such a good girl," he chuckled, slapping his cockhead against your tongue. 

You stuck your tongue out, catching your breath, "Good?" you whimpered, looking up at him with tear stained cheeks. Chan lightly slapped your cheek, "Very good," he cooed, spitting onto your tongue. You gulped down and nuzzled his palm. Jisung pumped his cock within his palm, "Come straddle my cock, baby," he smirked, tugging the tip of his precum slicked cock. You shakily got up, and did as told, "Ride?" you asked, tilting your head.

 Jisung nodded, tugging down your shorts, "Messy girl," he chuckled, rubbing between your drenched walls. You moaned, grinding your hips at the briefest hint of pleasure, "Please Sungie, I'm loose enough," you whined, clenching around his fingers. Jisung chuckled, grabbing waist, "Okay, okay," he cooed, letting you align his cock before thrusting into you. "Hah, hah, yes," you moaned, sinking down to the hilt. 

Jisung kissed your neck, "Relax, baby. You don't have to do anything my precious little cocksleeve," he groaned, gripping your hips enough to bruise as he pounded  your cunt at a relentless pace. You arched your back, wailing at the sudden quick thrusts, "There, there, hah," you babbled, clenching around his veiny cock. Jisung hissed, manhandling you onto the couch, your legs over his shoulders, "Cum for me, baby. I know you're close," he grits, thrusting his  cock deeper in his position. 

You wailed aloud, cumming around his shaft. Your cunt fluttered around his throbbing cock, "Good girl," he chuckled, rubbing your clit in tandem with his thrust, "Come on baby, give me another," he smirked, fucking your tight little cunt deeper. His cockhead kissing your cervix. You tossed your head back, "Can't , can't too much," you cried, quivering within his hold. Jisung clicked his tongue, "I know your body better than you do, baby. Cum for me now," he growled, pinching your swollen clit. 

You sobbed, creaming around his girth. Jisung hissed, cumming  deep within your womb, his cockhead pressed against those sensitive bundles of nerves, forcing another orgasm from your body. You sniffled, tears dripping down your cheeks. Jisung cooed, kissing your tears away, "Aww my little girl," he chuckled, kissing you softly.   You melted into the kiss, his lips softer than his actions.

 Jisung pulled away and gently eased out of your dripping cunt, "I'll come back for you, baby," he said, sending you a flying kiss. You giggled at his antics and made eye contact with Changbin, "Bin," you whined, making grabby hands towards him. Changbin chuckled, "I'm here," he said, rubbing your cheek. You beamed, a dopey smile etched on your lips. Changbin kneeled between your legs, "Jisung left quite a treat," he whispered, his voice heavy and breathy. 

You gulped, staring at him between your  thighs. Changbin licked your puffy clit, "Sweet," he smirked, seeing your legs tremble. He circled your clit with his tongue, the roughness of his appendage made your cunt clench, pushing out Jisung's hot load. Changbin eased three fingers up your hole, "Can't have them go to waste," he growled, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt. You arched your back, your hands pinching and tugging your sensitive nipples. 

Changbin sucked  on your clit, his tongue flicking in tandem with his fingers. The tip of his fingers curled against the sensitive bundles of nerves. "Cumming, cumming, hah," you whimpered, gushing around his fingers. Changbin licked his lips and  licked between your folds, "More," he groaned, thrusting his tongue within your hole. You yelped, clenching around his tongue, "Hah, shit, shit," you cried, fucking your hips back. 

Changbin growled, drinking in your slicked mixture, his tongue cleaning your ribbed walls. You clawed your tummy, "Hah, hhgh, ah. Fuck Bin!" You cried out, squirting onto his face. Changbin pulled away, chuckling softly, "That quenched my thirst," he teased, wiping his face with a towel. You panted, covering your eyes with your arms. Chan licked your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. You shuddered at the buzz of pleasure. 

"Surprised, princess?" he asked, pulling you onto his lap. You burrowed your face between the crook of his neck. Chan smirked, cupping your chest, "Rest, bubs. Daddy's got you," he soothed, his cock heavy and hot between your sensitive folds. He carefully eased his cock up your fluttering ribbed walls. You mewled, nipping his neck as your body enveloped his girth. 

Chan hissed, thrusting up your canal. "I'll make this quick," he growled, fucking upwards with a brutal pace. You sobbed, clawing his arm. Chan growled, wrapping his palm around your neck, "I know you can take it, princess," he grunts, quickening his pace. Changbin smirked, pumping his cock to the sight, "Let me help," he chuckled, slapping your ass with a firm spank. 

You choked on a moan, clenching hard around Chan's hot cock. "Again," Chan growled, keeping his relentless pace. Changbin did as told, spilling into his palm, "Hah, ah, fuck," he groaned, spanking your plush skin. You cried out, squirting hard around Chan's cock. Chan growled, forcing his cock deeper, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned, coating your inner walls white. Your eyes rolled back, quivering hard. 

Chan began thrusting again, to coax another orgasm out of you when "Red! Red," you sobbed, clawing the hand around your neck. Chan released his hold, his breath hitching. You cried into his chest, gripping his shoulders. Chan looked at Changbin, "Towel," he instructed, gently rocking you. "Hic, huh," you sniffled, nuzzling his jaw. Chan kissed your forehead, "Did it hurt?" he gulped, nosing your cheek. 

You shook your head, "Felt good, just too much," you sniffled, curling up. Chan wrapped you up in a towel, "Let's go clean up, yeah? Sungie's chilling in the jacuzzi," he said, cradling you closely. You nodded, melting into his hold. Chan gently laid you in the tub, "There we go," he whispered. Jisung pulled you close, lathering soap onto your body, "Look baby, a rubber ducky," he said, moving the ducky towards you. 

"Ducky," you giggled, an innocent gaze in your eyes. Jisungs smile softened, "Ahm, he wants to play too," he said, putting bubbles on the ducky. Changbin climbed into the tub, "How's our little girl?" he asked, tickling your feet. You giggled, splashing water at him. Changbin smiled, "Oh our little brat is back," he teased, rubbing your foot. Chan climbed in after, "I tidied up the couch, we can cuddle up for movie night after this," he said, slightly avoiding your gaze. 

You crawled towards him and nuzzled between his legs. Chan buried his face into your hair, "My heart sank when you said red bubs, but I'm happy you trust us to respect your body," he sighed, biting your ear. You giggled, looking up, "Trust daddy a lot," you beamed, bringing his hand to your lips. Chan smiled, "I'm glad, princess. I'm glad," he said, rubbing your shoulders. "Can we have chicken for dinner?" he asked, feeling hungry. Jisung snorted, "We can use Channie Hyung's card," he teased, only to get splashed by water.

[h4m1lt0ns]

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴carlos sainz jr x y/n y/l/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔carlos is down bad for his girlfriend and he won’t stop showing it.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔dina denoire

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕none, fluff

y/n

♡ liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 1,394,291 others.

y/n me and my baby in spain 🏝

tagged: carlossainz55

120,492 comments.

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carlossainz55 okay stop looking at my girlfriend guys

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lilymhe i miss you wifey 🥺

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y/n

♡ liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly and 993,779 more.

y/n everywhere we went has been so pretty i love it here 🥹🤍

220,281 comments.

carlossainz55 BEAUTIFUL.

carlossainz55 MY GIRLFRIEND IS BEAUTIFUL.

carlossainz55 my pretty baby 😮‍💨

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username carlos will always look like a normal regular citizen when y/n is around

➜ username REALLLL

username curly hair y/n can spit in my face and i’ll say do it again

liked by carlossainz55

charles_leclerc come home the kids miss you

➜ y/n kIDS? 😟

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carlossainz55

♡ liked by y/n, pierregasly, danielricciardo and 2,104,284 others.

carlossainz55 date night with my darling angel 🥂🖤🕯

482,294 comments.

username DARLING ANGEL 😭😭😭

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y/n i love you to death

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landonorris parents 🗣

➜ y/n my son 🗣

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[sweetiechichi]

babydoll!reader cries and mattheo comes running ૮ ˶︶^︶˶ ა🧸🐇<3

warnings: injury (scraped knee, minor bleeding), blood (brief, not graphic), crying, protective!mattheo, mean!mattheo, mentions of physical altercations, mild language

it didn’t hurt right away. her foot just slipped--moss-covered stone behind the greenhouse, her heel catching on a protruding edge. the fall was sudden, knee cracking against the step with a dull thud. the sting came after. sharp enough to make her gasp. sharp enough to sit her down right there on the cold stone, her dress puddling around her like crushed petals.

she blinked. once, twice. blood seeped through the tear in her tights. lace ruined. her sleeve was already pink-stained from trying to clean it. her throat felt tight. her eyes burned. she didn’t want to cry. but of course she did.

shaky fingers. unlocked phone. one name. muscle memory. it barely rang.

“baby.” his voice was flat. clipped. something electric already buried in the way he said it.

“i--i fell,” she whispered. “it’s not bad, i just--my knee. there’s dirt, and it’s bleeding, and--”

“where are you?”

“behind the greenhouse--”

“don’t move.”

“wait, matty--” he was already gone.

he nearly broke the door on his way out. someone called his name in the hall. he didn’t stop. didn’t look. fists clenched. jaw set. not running. but walking like he wanted to fight something.

and when he found her?

he froze. then stalked forward, faster now. she was curled up on the step, sleeves over her hands, tears in her lashes. the blood on her leg was drying around the edges. she looked tiny. miserable.

he crouched without a word, scanning her up and down like she’d been hurt worse than she had. his voice was low, tight, like it hurt him to speak. “what the fuck happened?”

she sniffled, already embarrassed. “i tripped. it’s stupid.”

“who pushed you?”

“no one--just the steps, my heel--”

“lemme see.”

she pulled the fabric aside. he saw the scrape. hissed through his teeth like it personally offended him.

“i’m gonna curse whoever built this fucking school.” she tried to laugh. “you’re being dramatic.”

“you’re bleeding,” he muttered. “come here.”

he stepped in close, hands slipping under her arms like she was made of glass. pulled her upright, steadying her against his chest. she winced, soft and small, and he exhaled hard--like the sound of her pain physically winded him.

“this way,” he said, nudging her foot forward with his. “inside.”

he led her in like she was breakable. like if he let go for even a second, she’d shatter. then, without hesitation, he cleared the nearest potting bench with one swift motion--pots, gloves, tools crashing to the floor like they didn’t matter. like nothing did except her.

she blinked. opened her mouth to speak.

but he was already stalking off --long strides, fast and furious--disappearing behind a heavy wooden door. she heard the clatter of supplies, a few curses under his breath, and then he returned, breathless, with something old and dented in his hands.

the first aid kit looked like it belonged in a museum. maybe it had. probably hadn't been touched since the founders walked these halls.

he dropped it beside her and started digging through like he’d done it a thousand times. of course it had antiseptic. of course it had gauze. and of course he knew exactly where to find it. he’d fixed worse--broken noses, busted lips, split skin from fights he sometimes started but always finished.

but this?

this was her. and that made it different.

he paused, just for a second. then, quieter, “this is gonna sting, baby.”

she whimpered when he pressed the cloth to her skin. his hands were steady. his jaw wasn’t. “i know. i know. just--stay still for me, yeah?”

he wrapped the gauze too tight the first time. she flinched. “shit. sorry.” he fixed it, slower this time. “you gotta tell me when it hurts, alright?”

she nodded, lip trembling. he looked like he might fall apart right there. “stop crying,” he whispered. “i’m trying.” “well you’re shit at it,” he snapped--but it cracked at the end.

she sniffled. and then he reached out, curled his fingers under her jaw, and kissed her temple. hard. like a promise. or maybe a warning.

“next time, you call me before you cry. you don’t sit out here like some kicked puppy. you call me. i fix it.” she nodded fast. like it was gospel. like it meant everything.

he stood. held out his arms. “come here.”

“i can walk.” “i didn’t ask.”

she let him lift her. she always did. head tucked into his chest, arms around his neck.

two ravenclaws stared too long. he glared until they looked away.

he carried her up to her tower. up the steps. into her little pink-lit room. lace curtains. frilly blankets. mr. sunday waiting on the bed.

he didn’t say a thing about the bunny. just set her down gentle. untied her shoes.

when she reached for his hand, he gave it. didn’t even look. just laced their fingers together and whispered:

“if it were up to me, you’d never touch the fucking ground.”

ପ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ଓ 🌸🤍

a/n: thank you for reading! pls send requests, i would love to hear your ideas for future fics xoxo

[joontroverted]

best friend gojo who's here to help you with your pms!

pairing : gojo satoru x reader

word count : 2.2k

tags : reader has pms, groping, titty sucking, grinding, clit rubbing, gojo is heavily implied to be the bisexual loser who gets no bitches that he is, nanami mention (who do you think I am after all), a lot of back and forth between him and reader. if not smutty, ik you will find this funny 😁

obviously gojo satoru is more of an active person, he'd rather be outside than inside, but he'd lock himself in jail if that meant he could spend some time with you. that's why he's here, bursting in arms filled with sweet treats. you groan, sitting up, making grabby hands for the gummy bears and he snickers, squeezing your cheek.

"you're not funny, satoru," you mutter, adjusting yourself in bed again.

"but I do get it! once a month, you and I become extremely similar, united by a hunger for sweets!" he laughs, tossing another sweet in the air and catching it with his mouth.

"how the fuck hasn't shoko beat some sense into you to speak to women with more respect," you say, smacking him over the head with a pillow.

the time passes, too slowly for your liking. satoru, to his credit keeps himself busy, chattering on about something or the other. you're busy twisting around in bed for a better position to provide yourself some relief from the random cramps, and satoru cannot help it.

he cannot help himself from staring at you.

all this while, he had been yammering on about anything he could think of, trying to distract himself from you. but here you are, refusing to settle down in one place.

he didn't really know all of the biology of the entire cycle, but he knew enough to figure out that periods come a month away from the last. and if he didn't figure out himself, your bitching was enough for him to know that the time was here.

he had burst into your apartment all cheery to give you some good vibes (and give himself some good vibes), and had walked right into your room to see you looking drained and angry. like he could focus on that when you were just sitting there, looking delicious. 

sure, you look good all the time. of course you dress up when you go clubbing, curves all fitted in a snug dress, hair and face done to the t. but now… god. the heat had made you forgo the usual hoodie or baggy shirt you'd pull on and you had instead worn an old tank top with a pair of booty shorts which you had announced you only put on because you heard him come in.

like damn who asked you to do that, but whatever makes you comfortable.

but.

your tits. your tits. your tits. your tits had swollen up, as they do every period, and they were trapped and straining against the tank top you had thrown on, which was obviously not built for the extra curve of them. and your nipples, fuck. they poked through the material, hard, prominent and enticing.

he sneaks another peak at them, and his eyes nearly fall out of his fucking head when he saw that in all the time he was lost in his thoughts, mindlessly blabbering, you're grabbing them.

round, juicy tits were in your hands, and you are squeezing them periodically, with your eyes closed, breathing slowly. he watches the cleavage peeking out of your neckline, the bulge of your boobs bouncing up and down as and when you squeezed them, and the little sighs that you keep giving. he gulps.

before he knows it, more like a horny panic response, he reaches forward and jabs your thigh. 

“ow, what the fuck?” 

your eyes fly open and you stare at satoru, who himself has no clue what the fuck just happened. and your hands. your hands are still grabbing your fucking tits.

“you weren't listening to my story,” he manages, his tongue thick and useless in his mouth.

you look like you could slap him. he would accept that. he wishes he could slap himself. 

“the fucking story about how you charmed your way to the front of the line at the coffee shop (not starbucks, fuck starbucks) once again? that fucking story?”

he just has to soldier through this. “yeah, that story! it's impressive to make your way past the old coffee addicted coots before their 9 to 5. if you want to massage your tits that bad do it on your own time!”

oh no. now he's said it. he’s brought attention to the the melons- elephant in the room.

“you are so useless,” you hiss. “you useless, useless man.” you are rising onto your knees and making your way closer to him. 

his eyes widen as he leans back. he chuckles nervously. “hey, i'm not entirely useless. i mean, i can take away your period, but just for -”

your hand shoots out and grabs his face. “if you pull that pathetic playboy shit on me right now i'm gonna slap you so hard you'll see stars,” you whisper.

satoru doesn't dare breathe, the space between you two is so small, lips almost touching, your breasts heaving. 

“how big?”

“wh- what?” he stutters. 

men and women and almost everyone who has laid eyes on him have tried to smooth talk him, and here he is, stuttering for you. 

“how big are they?”

oh! your tits! your fucking tits!

“big. bigger. bigger than usual. beautiful.” he muddles.

you huff, and seem to relax a bit. “good,” you say, pulling back a little. “now use them.”

with that, you turn away and plop down right in front of him, ass pushed against his crotch, and he can just hope that you don’t feel how hard he is right now. 

“what,” he says again, stupidly. yes, he always dreamed of this day. no, he didn't know what the fuck was going on.

“your hands satoru. use your hands! you keep comparing hand sizes with me, so use your big fucking hands to massage me!”

his hands. his stupid hands. okay.

“jeez just say that, you tease. and here i thought that i could feel up a girl after so long,” he jokes, the only way he knows how to get out of this situation, his face still hot. he grabs your shoulders and squeezes haphazardly, “juicy tits are rare to come by, after all i can only jump nanami so many times before he -” 

you grab his hands from your shoulders and pull them from the back around your body to your tits and squeeze. 

“oh,” you moan. “oh god, that's good.”

you're too deep in the sauce to notice that satoru's brain's been fried. his fingers just follow your directions, fingertips digging into the plush flesh, while you moan away. you tip your head back, eyes closed. he stares at you, the relief you’re in and how you're openly just using him for your own gain so unabashedly. your head hits his shoulder, causing your eyes to open slightly, making direct eye contact with him. that snaps him out of the daze that he's in.

“yeah?’ he mutters, his voice low, “you like that?”

“uh huh,” you nod, eyes not leaving his.

“all right cutie,” he chuckles, “i'll give you what you want.”

he finally goes with the flow and starts massaging. his big hands circle around each breast, gathering them entirely, and squeezing. his thumbs grind down on the neglected sides of your tits in circles, pulling out an unexpected moan from you.

“oh, that was good!”

“yeah? tell me more,” he says, steadily pushing them in and out.

“they were just- just so sore, toru. and yesterday i was out the entire day, and you know i had to wear a bra because i can't just not wear a bra! so they were so so restricted and tied up! so obviously i don't wear a bra when i'm at home -”

he knows. he's seen. 

“- but i don't know, the soreness just somehow feels different and worse now? because they so heavy and swollen, and they're hanging down, nothing to hold ‘em up!”

“aww, poor baby. why didn't you tell me earlier, huh?” he asks, working his way around your breasts.

“i don't know… my head's been so fuzzy, and my cramps are pretty bad too.”

“well that's okay cutie. i'll be there from now on, yeah?” he whispers into your ear. even beyond his own horniness, he really does want to help you. he didn't know he too could benefit from this though.

“yeah… thank - oh!” you shriek.

“what?”

“my nipples, oh, they're just too sore, toru! you need to be gentle!” you huff.

“‘m sorry baby, i'll be more careful, kay?” he mutters, looking down at your hard nipples, poking through the strained material of your tank top. since today has been full of miracles for him, he decides to push his luck. “can i… can i see ‘em?”

see them? you had definitely been lost in the bliss of the situation to see the realness of it. to see that the line between friendship and the light flirting that had been going on between you and satoru off late had been getting blurrier by the moment. you are too horny and in need of pain (and horny) relief to be thinking clearly. 

“nothing has to change, kay?’’ whispers satoru into your ear. “it's just you and me… and your tits between us, obviously” he giggles, nipping your ear a bit.

you look at him. things would change, you decide, looking at the slightly dizzy look he has, his eyes lidded, lip between his teeth. he's easier to read than he thinks he is. knowingly, you nod.

“atta girl,” he whispers, positively buzzing with excitement. he pushes himself off from behind you, instead laying you down on the pillow he was leaning on and coming to the front. “atta fucking girl.”

he slides down your body, tossing away the blanket that was loosely thrown over your legs, showing your thighs and your shorts hiked up enough for them to just look like underwear. he wants to settle his face onto them so badly, but that's a task for another day. for now, he looks up. 

you're looking down at him, your usually pissy face wide eyed, waiting for him to make his next move. he can't help but smirk at how cute you look, especially considering how much you gag or at least pretend to gag whenever he flirts with you. 

“i'm gonna lift this up, okay?” he tells you, holding the hem of your tank top.

you nod.

he pulls the hem up, up and over your tits, exposing them. the air hits your nipples, causing them to pebble even more. 

“fuck,” he whispers, his eyes wide and unblinking. “fuck baby, they're beautiful.”

“they're all swollen and… stuff,” you mutter, not knowing what to say.

he reaches forward and grabs the two mounds, one in each hand. 

“hi!” he says to the one in his right hand, jiggling it, “hi!” he says, now to the left one, jiggling that one too.

“satoru, you're such a dor- oh!”

he's opened his mouth and latched onto your right nipple, his wet, warm mouth, enveloping the smaller, tender bud. years of sucking on lollipops, and other things, makes him really, really good at this. eyes closed, he sucks and sucks, tongue circling the nipple and lapping it up. the pointy, sensitive bud is soothed by his constant suckling, causing you to moan out loud. that finally gets him to open his eyes and gaze back at you, pausing his administration. 

“i'm such a dork, huh?”

“shut up, god!”

“no god, just satoru gojo,” he says smarmily, nuzzling into your other boob, his hair tickling your neck, and under your chin.

you smack his head and he snickers. he goes back to suckling on your tits, plump lips leaving a trail of shiny gloss on your tits as he kisses them away. his hand continues to massage your other tit, and his other hand is, well… gripping your thigh.

“satoru,” you gasp, but he pays no heed. you push him away from you slightly. “satoru!”

that breaks him out of his daze, looking up at you. “did i do something?”

“could you um… could we grind?” you whisper.

“i can touch your pussy?” he ask hungrily, eyes gleaming.

“no!” you yelp, “not directly at least, we aren't there yet. but could i… grind on you for a bit?”

“fuck yeah you can!” he almost shouts. he pulls his leg up, his knee pushing against your clit.

with how sensitive and horny you are, that little move makes you moan, sending shivers up your body. and this bratty demon descends upon you immediately. he’s back to suckling on your tit, while the other hand massages your other one, gently pulling your nipple now and then. the sensitivity added with the gentle tugging creates a delicious sort of slightly painful yet soothing delight. your back arches and he most definitely cannot be comfortable in his position to satisfy you in every place all at once but he doesn't even pause for a moment, not letting up on his knee grinding on your clit. 

“satoru, satoru, slow down,” you gasp, the sensitivity knowing no bounds.

“no,” he replies “i don't get to see you in your panties even! i'm taking whatever i caaan,” he says in a sing song way, going back to his sucking.

“fuck you!” you gasp, writhing at this point.

he makes a sound that you cannot decipher, and moves his hand from your thigh to your clit, pinching it, eyes flitting up to see your reaction.

“fuck! fuck!” you exclaim, “more, toru, please!"

"yeah baby?" he asks, rubbing which circles around your clit, as if he would ever hesitate to give you anything, ever. he looks down at you, the state you're in. tank top pushed all the way up, uncovering your breasts, your soft tits jiggling up and down, as you grind down to meet his fingers. and as he looks down to his fingers, he sees the prominent lips of your pussy through your shorts as his fingers pressed unwavering against your little clit. one day. he is so close.

you are so close.

the heat in your body is building up, the pressure in your tummy rising. the band stretches tighter and tighter and satoru, that evil boy is only enjoying this. your period addled brain cannot ever string together an insult to throw his way, and instead you wantonly moan, motioning for him to come closer.

he leans in, an eyebrow quicker up.

"kiss," you whisper. "needta kiss you toru."

that takes him by surprise. 

"of- course you can, pretty girl," he whispers back, "been dreaming of this day".

with that, your lips meet, and it's immediately sloppy and desperate. tongue and gloss and indignance from both sides have your eyes rolled to the back of your head soon enough, so much so that you don't even realize that you've let go of the pressure that was building up, the band snapping.

with a gasp, you orgasm, shaking against satoru, who doesn't even seem to be phased. he's taken lapping and nipping against your lips as you come down from the high. your shaky fingers come to grasp his toned arms.

"hmm, how's that for some pms relief, huh?" he mutters against you, laying himself on you gingerly, making sure he isn't squishing your tits accidentally. "good job, both of you," he says, looking at your tits.

"and good job to you too, cutie," he says, looking up to you. he looks content and smug. "still think I'm a dork after all that?"

you pull a face, too sleepy and too, well whipped to insult him. he looks so sexy and adorable at the same time. proud and happy and eager all at once, his hair sticking up. you reach out to ruffle his hair and pull his ear. 

"you're not off of massaging duty though. I have a full night's sleep to catch up on after I clean myself up," you grunt, pushing yourself off of the bed to go to the bathroom. 

satoru follows you, like a puppy. 

you turn back to look at him. "are you gonna um… take care of yourself?"

"yeah, about that," he mutters, looking away, his hands hovering over the crotch of his sweatpants. "you don't have to worry about that- "

you yank his hands away from his crotch to reveal a dark stain down the front of it.

"you fucking dork!" you exclaim, laughing "you came just from that? I didn't even touch you!"

"yeah yeah, laugh all you want, after using me like that" he rolls his eyes, his cheeks pink. 

"when did you even come?"

he remains quiet.

"satoru," you egg on gleefully, almost forgetting all the pain you are in.

"there was a lot of precum when you first made me grab your tits… and then I came when I… when I saw em bare for the first time," he trails off.

you smack his shoulder. "you pathetic boy!" you laugh, "is that why you wouldn't let up on me"

"fuck off, you're such a meanie, and after I just gave you the best time ever!" he shouts, closing his ears, dashing past you to the bathroom. 

you follow him, and he's kicking off his sweatpants and pulling off his underwear. "don't look!" he shrieks, face red. 

"I'm not looking" you laugh, turning away and beginning to change too. "I just wanna get cleaned up and go back to sleep."

he grunts. "can I -"

"can you what?"

you see the tips of his ears are pink as he throws one of the many pairs of shorts he left at your place before. 

"can I suck on your right tit and jiggle your left one while you sleep and after that maybe put my head between your thi- "

"satoru!"

first smut fic yay!

comments, likes, reblogs and excited rambling tags are HIGHLY APPRECIATED! ❤

[amoosarte]

𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐃 𝐘 𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐑, 𝐂.𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐙 𝐉𝐑

SUMMARY ! in which Carlos and his wife enjoy their little life in spain with their children but are somewhat a cute family dynamic !

FACECLAIM ! julia.hatchh, TROPE ! long lasting love !

It was no secret that Carlos Sainz Jr. wanted a family of his own. Growing up in a household that held so much love was all he ever wanted in the future. He and his sister were showered with love since well..forever.

Carlos thought of it all the time while holding his wife in his arms every night, in his eyes it would be a long night for him but he wouldn't nag about it. Carlos was a sincere man, he would shush his wife to sleep when she was overstress and tired, massage her hair to caress her to sleep, then hold her while looking at her delicate body.

Carlos would study the women that had catched his heart with just a look. Those brown doe eyes just looking at her like she was the moon, he was looking at her in a way a woman dreamed of. He was utterly in love with her, wishing to be by her side forevermore.

Lana was a woman that was soft spoken, a woman that would praise him for right about everything. She would shower him with love when feeling low. She was his best friend, a woman he could never get tired of.

When the topic of children rose in conversation, Lana became shy. She had admitted she did want a family with Carlos and said it was always a thought in her head. She dreamed of them having his eyes and his way loving. It had almost brought him to tears, twirling her around in excitement.

With that, they were blessed with a baby boy. His name soonly becoming Lorenzo Sainz, most of his uncles calling him 'Enzo'. A boy that look exactly like his mamita, but having his papitos eyes. He was and adored toddler until simply two years later he had his baby sister.

Carolina Sainz was her father's carbon copy with her mamitas eyes, and she was a daddy's girl. Becoming the princess of the Sainz family, with everyone adoring her.

Carlos decided that this would be enough for him, becoming traumatize with his wife pregnancy. Lana would admit both of them were harsh pregnancies but she didn't want to let her husband down.

Now they were a simple family living in spain, somewhere near a part of the ocean. In hacienda spanish style home, where both children live their childhood dreams.

"Caro, linda, estás listo para ir a ver a papi?" Lana said while making her son look presentable. Lorenzo just looked at his mother while she called out for her four year old daughter. "Si mami, me miro bonita?"

Although she looked like her father, she had a bit of her mother witty personality. "Preciosa." Lana smiled at the girl, sitting her down on the bathroom counter. Her silky brown hair were tied into pigtails, making her look absolutely stunning. "yo tambien?" her little boy said.

"guapo." She said before kissing them on their cheeks, staining their brown skin with a lipstick stain. "Listos para mirar ver a papá en su auto de carreras?" Lana smiled sweetly at them, watching them nod furiously.

They left the house on time, driving to see Carlos drive. It was somewhat special since it was a home race but if Carlos was being honest, it was Carolina's first time watching him race in person.

Trust that he told every soul in the paddock, and they loved seeing the spanish driver all excited. Though he wished it was under a better situation, Ferrari didn't extend his contract and he somewhat he needed to focus on landing on the podium.

"Well aren't you excited!" A very well known english accent rand from behind him. "You have no idea." Carlos smiled sincerely at Lando, making the younger boy laugh. "Is our princess coming for the first time today?" Lando was not going to express it but he loved the kids to an extent.

"Yes, and I must land on the podium to celebrate it." Carlos said half serious and half jokingly. Lando rolled his eyes playfully the wishing him luck.

Carlos had entered the Ferrari garage before a squeak called out to him. “Papi!” There she was the golden girl of Ferrari.

"Caro!" Carlos immediately crouch down to embrace his little girl, a large grin spreading like wildfire across his lips. "Papi! Papi! estoy de igualitas con mami!" Carolina let go of him and jumped before spinning around. "Si? Donde esta mami preciosa?" Carlos asked and right on que, Lana walked right in.

She was wearing white sundress with her red ballerina flats, looks gorgeous in his eyes. Then his eyes drifted to his son, cuddled in his mother's arms. Carlos sighed before listing his little girl up into his arms. "Todo bien amor?" Lana asked him, earning a smile from him.

"Se puso mucho mejor desde que te vi entrar.." Carlos kissed while she let out a small laugh. Carlos then felt a small hand push him off his wife, right beside him was his son looking quite annoyed. "¿No te dije que tu mamá no puede te cargar por tanto tiempo?" Carlos told his son who just stuck his tongue out.

"Papi, es tio cha!" Carolina squealed and ran to one of her uncles, who gladly picked her up. "Tioo cha!" Enzo jumped out of his others arms and ran towards his uncle. While the kids were occupied by their uncle and knowing colleagues, Carlos dragged his wife to his arms who gladly embraced him.

"Todo bien amor?" Lana asked yet again but in her soft honey voice, making Carlos melt almost immediately. "Solo estoy nervioso." He mumbled into her ginger hair, she then let go of him and walked towards Charles. "Can you watched them for a minute Charles?" She asked him, making him nod and go towards Alex to introduce the kids to her.

"Amor, no tienes por qué estar nervioso, eres un gran piloto, eres el mejor." Lana cupped his face after entering his driver room, making him relax a bit in her arms. She smiled softly analyzing every adoring feature on him, of course she saw bits of children in him and that made her happy. Carlos would say the exact same thing, he could only be so greatful.

"Dale gana, pero no olvides que te amamos." With that she kissed him on his nose. Carlos had laughed just a bit before lunging in to kiss her properly.

With his wife and kids encouragement, Carlos came out on 2rd, proudly standing at his home podium. With Carolina and Lorenzo screaming happily for their papa. Not missing how they ran towards him after his podium, knocking him to the ground.

What a cute family.

MENTIONS ! @landitolover, @moneygramhaas, @d6za1, @ch3rryknots @louvrepool @thearchieves

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉, ⟢ more!

[oharaslove]

Posting Schedule

So, this is for me to force myself to write and for you to know (if you are interested). Which probably no one is, but whatever.

Masterlist - AO3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Cold (One-Shot) - To be Posted

୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀

summary: Many people in the spider society see you as cold, mainly because they don't know you well. What happens when Miguel notices how much this view of yourself affects you?

Symbols and Meanings

Fluff: ୭🧷✧˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 Smut: ୧⋆｡🕯. -ʚɞ Angst: ☠︎︎༒︎✞︎🕸𖤐 Hurt/Comfort: ૮ ˶︶^︶˶ ა🧸🐇<3

[awniie]

꒰ “comfortable!”✦ ۰ —ᣞ ⊹ ݁

ʚ summary: just a cozy little drabble…୨ৎ

ʚ content: just fluff <3 ( not proof read ) ⠂°⠄🕯𔘓

ʚ note: inspired by a tiktok i saw a while ago of a guy all in his gf’s lap (need)

you were in the bed watching a movie on your laptop. Scattered across the duvet were a couple snacks and your stuffed animals, as well as your favorite blanket that was draped across you shoulders . It was a quiet day, nothing much to do other than stay inside to avoid the frigid temperatures of mid-winter. You didn’t mind though, it gave you an excuse to catch up on watching shows and movies you liked. You shivered, it was very cold, and the draft in your room wasn’t pleasant. You couldn’t do much about it, so you simply swaddled back up into your blanket. Meanwhile, your eyes are glued to the screen and your wandering hands grab another cookie from the plastic container. After about 15 minutes into the movie, your boyfriend comes over and sits by you. Your crumb-coated hands presses the pause button and you turn to face him, “Hey what’s up?” You asked. He seems tired judging by his messy hair and sluggish movements, as if he was having an unrestful sleep.

“Can’t get comfortable on the couch, t’s too cold and I wanted to lay with you.” He explains, words quiet and slurring occasionally. You grin, heart warming at the thought of him not being able to sleep well without you. You allow him to lay on your against your shoulder. He quickly tucks his face into the crook of your neck. Leaving you simply thinking it was cute and that was the end of it.

But, a couple minutes later, he shifts against you awkwardly. You raise a single eyebrow at him and he mumbles, “still can’t get comfortable.” You roll your eyes playfully and open yours arms and tuck him under you. He leans himself against your chest, eyelids faling shut as his ear is pressed against your heartbeat. You make sure he has an adequate amount of blanket to keep him warm and you continue on with your movie.

5 minutes past and you feel your boyfriend squirming again. You paused your show, feeling a little annoyed. “Still not comfortable?” You asked, an edge on your words. He ignores it though, positioning his sleepy hand on your lap. You run a hand through his hair, and quickly resume your movie, expecting no more interruptions.

You let out an irritated groan as you feel your hard-headed boyfriend moving again. You shut the laptop off and glare at him. He gives a tired smile. “Still not warm, just lemme-” and he positions his face between your thighs and lower stomach. He wraps his arms around your waist and neatly snuggles himself in your body. You feel your face burn and you let out a little laugh. “You comfy now?”

“Mhm…very” he answers, response muffled by the fabric of your clothing. He was nice to have right there, his body warming yours, protecting you from the cold weather that seemed to slip through the cracks of your room. You resume back to your movie finally, but suddenly you find more interest rubbing your boyfriend’s back and mussing up his hair, just to hear the cute, sleepy sounds he makes. ♡

suguru, SATURO , megumi , CHOSO , yuta + any one your favs ! <3

[dokjafang]

∘₊✧ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐒 ✧₊∘

❝ 𝘈 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘥 & 𝘮𝘢𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘦. ❞ (✦ 𝙰 𝙿𝚁𝙸𝚅𝙰𝚃𝙴 𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙲𝚃𝚄𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙻𝙸𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙰𝚁𝚈 𝙷𝙴𝙳𝙾𝙽𝙸𝚂𝚃𝚂 ✦)

🌙 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞: An underground sanctuary for the damned. You have entered a world of villainous love, cruel devotion, and inescapable obsession. This is where male yanderes reign supreme—where light is consumed by the abyss, and love is just another form of madness.

☕ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐭𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞: A shadowy, candlelit café-library buried beneath the city, only whispered about in dark corners. A place where books bleed, the coffee is black as sin, and every page is laced with tragedy.

📖 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐨: Jesus Christ & My Husband. They are the only reasons I’m still alive. My books, my stories, and my soul belong to them.

✦ 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖎𝖘 𝖆 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖑𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖔 𝕵𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖘 & 𝖒𝖞 𝖍𝖚𝖘𝖇𝖆𝖓𝖉.

🕯️ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✧ Lamentations 3:1-2 ✧ “I am the man who has seen affliction by the rod of the LORD’s wrath. He has driven me away and made me walk in darkness rather than light.”

⟡ 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆 – Devil's Antagonist ⟡

📌 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭:⤷ Current Polls & Events | Request Status | About Me

📜 𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫: ⤷ General Rules + Request Rules | Expanded Masterpost

This is fiction, not endorsement. I write twisted, disturbing, and horrific things because it's cathartic. Fluff and slice-of-life feel more surreal to me than horror ever could. If you can’t stomach the dark, turn back now.

➤ Follow to Avoid Censorship 🕯️: [AO3 | Official Site]

⟡ 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐎 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 ⟡ ⤷ Abyss Archives - Where obsession & desire intertwine. ⤷ Somniphage - RPG + erotic horror + Yandere Reverse Harem Otome

𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥. ⤷ 𝑮𝒐𝒅'𝒔 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒕 → 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘴, 𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘵. ⤷ 𝑨 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑫𝒆𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒅 → 𝘖𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴, 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯. ⤷ 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒍𝒅 𝑨𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒛𝒆 → 𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢, 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴. ⤷ 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒃𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑭𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒔 → 𝘌𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳, 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘦𝘥. ⤷ 𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 → 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘴. ⤷ 𝑯𝒆𝒓 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏 → Sadist Husband x Masochist Wife

✧𓆪 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙋𝙀𝙉𝘿𝙄𝙐𝙈 🖋 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 & 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𓆩✧𓆪 ⤷ 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐬 → 𝘑𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳. ⤷ 𝑰𝒏𝒌 & 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 → 𝘈𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. ⤷ 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑷𝒔𝒚𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚 → 𝘈𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘴, 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯. ⤷ 𝒁𝒆𝒓𝒐-𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑳𝒊𝒃𝒓𝒂𝒓𝒚 → 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶.

⛧ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 ⛧ 𝐀 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐦.

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 & 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲 — World Ablaze ╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 & 𝐓𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 — A Heart Devoured ╰┈➤ 𝐖𝐞𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲 — Whispers In The Dark ╰┈➤ 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 & 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲 — Forbidden Fruits ╰┈➤ 𝐃𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐲 — Whispers In The Dark

🕯 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 🕯 ⤷ 𝘛𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘗𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 – ink-spilled testaments of obsession, bound in leather & sin. ⤷ 𝘖𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘈𝘳𝘵 – 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮. ⤷ 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘩𝘸𝘢 / 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘢 – devotion drawn in suffering, yandere love carved into eternity.

⟡ "𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒔, 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒕."