#messy bc I’m supposed to be sleeping

[bonecarversbestie]

Messy emo gwynriel blobs to spice up ur day

@zenkindoflove made me do it.

[stunie]

i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!

2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡

(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)

[joaosnovia]

hmmm so i lowk want sleepy franco, bc i had a dream abt him last night no joke. let's see. okay. we're on a plane, his like travel director guy? idk what he's called, but he books the wrong ticket so franco has to sit in economy class (horror) and he's all grumpy and tired and his curls are peeking thru his hoodie (HEHE) idk if you wanna make us a fan of him or not, i truly don't care ill read it anyway, and then drumroll please, TURBULENCE, and we hold hands and end up talking and then fall in love mwah

❦ - ‘la concha de mi madre’.

warnings:: cussing.

writers notes:: IM SORRY IF YOU SPEAK SPANISH AND UNDERSTAND THE TITLE 🥀. if you get the reference then you get it but if u don’t then it’s bc he said it on team radio 😔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @cherryloveshs ; lmk if u wanna be added

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’re already exhausted when you get to the gate. the kind of tired that settles behind your eyes and makes everything feel just a little bit blurry. it’s a late flight, barely-full, and you’re silently thanking the universe for that as you scan your boarding pass.

economy. window seat. quiet.

until he walks in.

it’s subtle at first. just a little wave of tension that passes through the gate area like a ripple, the way it always does when someone vaguely famous walks into a space not meant for them. people don’t scream or swarm, but you hear the hushed whispers, the occasional, poorly-hidden phone snap. and then you see him.

franco.

hood up. head down. dragging a carry-on with one hand and a coffee in the other like it might be the only thing keeping him awake.

he looks like he was just pulled out of sleep and shoved into an airport. grey hoodie. black joggers. a duffel slung lazily over one shoulder. and his curls, god, his curls, are peeking out from under the fabric like they’re trying to escape. messy and soft and unfairly pretty.

you try not to stare.

he looks grumpy. not mean, not rude, just tired in the way only someone who was promised comfort but got chaos instead can be. he stops by the flight attendant, glances down at his phone, then mutters something in spanish you don’t catch but feel in your soul. it’s giving: ‘how did i end up here?’

you turn back to your book, pretending you’re not watching him weave down the aisle, scanning seat numbers, getting closer and closer until

he stops. right beside you.

your row.

he double checks his pass. stares at the seat. stares at you. then groans, barely audible, and sinks down into the seat next to yours like it personally offended him.

‘la concha de mi madre… wasn’t supposed to be here,’ he mumbles, more to himself than you.

you don’t say anything at first. you just glance sideways, taking in the way his knees hit the seat in front of him. he’s clearly too tall for this. he exhales sharply through his nose and tilts his head back, letting it thud softly against the wall.

‘rough night?’ you ask gently.

he peeks one eye open.

‘travel guy booked the wrong class. s’posed to be business.’ he sounds like he’s explaining a grave injustice. and honestly, to him, maybe it is.

you bite back a laugh. ‘and now you’re slumming it with the rest of us.’

he looks at you properly now. eyes sharp despite how sleepy he is. ‘you make it sound like i’m gonna die in here.’

‘you might,’ you tease. ‘depends how dramatic you get.’

he cracks a smile, small, sleepy, but real, and pulls his hoodie tighter around him. then it’s quiet again. the kind of quiet that fills a plane before takeoff: muted announcements, seatbelt clicks, the soft shuffle of passengers settling in.

you go back to your book. or try to. it’s hard to focus when an f1 driver is breathing softly beside you, head tilted toward the window, lashes brushing his cheekbones, hands folded loosely over his stomach.

he looks peaceful like that. tired, yes, but soft in a way you didn’t expect. like he’s finally stopped fighting the chaos and just let himself be still.

you’re almost asleep yourself when it happens.

the plane jerks. a sudden lurch. not violent, but sharp enough to pull you from the edge of sleep and snap your heart into alert.

your hand flinches toward the armrest, gripping it tight.

and then another bump, this one stronger. someone across the aisle lets out a small yelp.

your stomach twists.

and then

warm fingers slip over yours.

it’s so casual, so easy, like he’s done this before. his hand is big, firm, grounding. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even open his eyes, but the pressure of his palm against yours is enough to slow your breath just a little.

‘just turbulence,’ he murmurs, voice low, raspy with sleep. ‘happens all the time.’

you don’t know why you believe him. maybe because he sounds so calm. maybe because your hand fits stupidly well in his. or maybe because, deep down, part of you likes that this stranger, this famous, hoodie-wearing, grumpy stranger, is the one keeping you steady.

when the turbulence fades, you think he’ll pull away.

he doesn’t.

you glance over. his eyes are open now, just barely, looking at your joined hands with an unreadable expression.

‘you don’t have to keep holding it,’ you say quietly.

he shrugs, thumb brushing against your skin. ‘you looked scared.’

you don’t answer. just look away, heart thudding a little too loud in your chest.

after a beat, he shifts in his seat, turning slightly toward you.

‘i’m franco, by the way.’

you blink. not because you didn’t know. but because it feels strange, intimate, for him to offer it like that.

‘y/n,’ you say back, voice softer than before.

he nods once. ‘pretty name.’

you smile, small and a little shy. and for the first time, you notice how close you are. how your knees almost touch. how your fingers are still tangled like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

somewhere over the clouds, in a cramped economy seat beside a boy who was never supposed to be here, something starts.

it’s quiet. unexpected. but it’s there.

and neither of you let go.

you land just after sunrise.

the light filters through the little oval window in soft streaks of gold and peach, brushing over franco’s curls as he stretches beside you with a sleepy groan. his hoodie’s slipped a little down his shoulder, revealing a white t-shirt and a glimpse of collarbone, and you don’t mean to stare, but also, maybe you do.

‘how’d you sleep?’ he asks, voice gravelly and barely awake.

you smile. ‘not much.’

‘same.’

you both sit there for a second, still tangled in the strange bubble that formed somewhere midair. he shifts, glancing down at your hands, still close, not quite touching anymore, but close enough to feel the leftover warmth. his fingers twitch like maybe he wants to reach back.

you beat him to it, brushing your pinky against his.

he looks over, and he’s smiling.

‘you hungry?’ he asks, suddenly casual. like you didn’t just hold hands for three hours in silence. like you didn’t fall asleep with your shoulder brushing his in the middle of the sky.

you blink. ‘what?’

he rubs the back of his neck, curls wild now, sticking out in soft little tufts. ‘there’s this café i always go to when i fly through here. their croissants are insane. i can… show you?’

your heart does something stupid.

‘yeah,’ you say, voice softer than you mean it to be. ‘sure. croissants sound good.’

you gather your things. he waits for you. and as you walk off the plane, into the cool, early morning quiet of the airport, something about it feels like a movie. the way your suitcases roll in sync. the way his hoodie sleeve brushes your arm every few steps. the way people glance over, eyes widening slightly, not because of you, but because of him.

he doesn’t seem to notice. or care. he’s too busy walking beside you like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

‘so,’ you say, just to fill the silence, ‘did your travel guy get fired yet?’

he snorts. ‘he’s on very thin ice.’

you laugh, and he grins, bright and sleepy and a little crooked.

the café is tucked in a quiet corner of the terminal. tiny tables. warm lights. the smell of espresso thick in the air.

he orders two croissants and two coffees like he’s done it a hundred times before.

‘you bring all your turbulence buddies here?’ you tease as you settle into a table by the window.

he smirks. ‘nah. just the brave ones who hold my hand mid-air.’

you roll your eyes, but your cheeks are warm.

the coffee is good. the croissant is better. and the company, well, that’s the best part.

you talk. about little things. stupid things. favorite movies. airport horror stories. he tells you about the time his luggage got sent to a completely different continent. you tell him about the time you missed a flight because you fell asleep at the gate. he laughs, really laughs, and you catch yourself watching the way his face lights up, the way his eyes crinkle, the soft edges of his tired smile.

you’re both halfway through your second coffee when his phone buzzes. he glances at it, then groans.

‘my ride’s here.’

you nod, trying not to look disappointed.

he stands slowly, stretching again, hoodie riding up just a little, and then looks at you like he’s not quite sure what to do.

you break the silence first.

‘it was nice flying with you.’

he huffs a laugh. ‘yeah. it was.’

you expect him to walk away. just wave, say bye, disappear into the crowd.

instead, he hesitates. looks at you like he’s debating something.

then

‘can i see you again?’

you blink. ‘what?’

he runs a hand through his curls. ‘i mean… if you want. i know it was just a weird flight and some turbulence and coffee, but…’ he shrugs, like he can’t quite explain it. ‘i liked this. i liked you.’

your heart stumbles.

‘yeah,’ you say, quiet but sure. ‘i’d like that too.’

he grins. pulls out his phone. you exchange numbers, fingers brushing as he hands it back.

‘don’t ghost me,’ he says, teasing.

you smirk. ‘only if your travel guy doesn’t mess it up again.’

he laughs again, starts to walk backward toward the exit, still facing you.

‘see you soon, turbulence girl.’

and then he’s gone.

but your phone buzzes thirty seconds later.

franco: next time i’m booking us both business class. just saying.

you grin.

yeah. you’ll see him again.

it starts with texts.

a few here and there. late at night. early morning. sleepy updates and little inside jokes. a photo of his breakfast one day. a screenshot of your playlist the next. nothing dramatic. nothing loud.

just a slow, easy kind of beginning.

and then one day, he sends you a message that says:

‘are you free this friday? i owe you dinner. and business class. but we’ll start with dinner.’

you say yes.

and that’s how you end up outside a small restaurant tucked between quiet streets, heart thudding in your chest as you spot him leaning against the wall, hoodie up, curls peeking out just like that first night.

but this time, he looks up and smiles as soon as he sees you.

‘you came,’ he says, stepping forward, pulling the hood down.

‘you asked,’ you reply.

he holds the door open for you, and it’s something about the way he looks at you, like he’s been waiting to see you again since the second you left, that makes your stomach do something ridiculous.

the restaurant is small. warm. dim lighting and quiet music. you sit across from him, nervous at first, picking at the edge of your napkin.

but he’s soft. all soft.

asking how your week was. telling you how training’s been. joking about how he’s still haunted by the flight. and you both laugh, really laugh, like it’s been forever since something felt this easy.

somewhere between dinner and dessert, the conversation shifts.

you’re talking about the places you want to visit. the little corners of the world that live on your bucket list. he’s leaning in, chin resting in his hand, eyes never leaving you.

‘so what you’re saying,’ he murmurs, ‘is that you’d need a travel buddy.’

you raise a brow. ‘you offering?’

he smiles slow. ‘i already know how you handle turbulence.’

you toss a sugar packet at him. he catches it.

and when the night ends, and you’re outside again in the cool air, he walks you to your car without saying much.

just before you open the door, he stops.

‘can i—’ he rubs the back of his neck, like he’s nervous now. ‘i wanna see you again.’

you tilt your head. ‘another flight?’

he chuckles. ‘hopefully without economy class.’

you step closer. your hands graze.

‘i’d like that,’ you say.

and this time, this time when he leans in, it’s not your hands that touch first. it’s his forehead resting lightly against yours. soft, sweet. the kind of almost-kiss that says everything without rushing it.

his voice is barely a whisper.

‘goodnight, y/n.’

and you smile, feeling weightless.

‘goodnight, franco.’

you fall asleep on facetime the first time it happens.

you’re both in bed, screens glowing in the dark, him in a hoodie again, hood up, hair a little messy from running his hand through it too much. you’re curled beneath a blanket, barely lit by your lamp, yawning as he tells you something dumb one of his teammates said in the locker room.

you’re not sure when you drift off, only that when you open your eyes again, the call is still going.

his camera is angled up now, like he fell asleep too. his face half-buried in a pillow, breathing slow. the little rectangle on your screen shows the soft rise and fall of his chest, a peek of his collarbone, the edge of his hoodie slipping down one shoulder.

you watch him for a moment.

just… watch.

something tugs at your heart. soft and sure.

you end the call before your screen dies, and sleep comes easier after that.

the next morning, he texts you:

‘slept better than i have in weeks. you?’

you type:

‘same. weird.’

he sends a photo. his pillow, a bit messy. the corner of his hoodie in the frame.

‘blaming you. don’t leave next time.’

and you want to tell him you won’t. that you’ll stay on the line until the sun rises if that’s what he wants. but you just reply:

‘no promises.’

he calls you that night too.

and the one after that.

the first kiss comes later.

not during a date. not at dinner. not even with music or city lights or anything remotely romantic.

it’s raining.

you weren’t supposed to see him. just dropped by his place to return something, a hoodie you stole without realizing. but he opens the door and grins like he hasn’t seen you in weeks instead of days.

‘you’re wet,’ he says, brushing a hand over your shoulder.

‘yeah, well, the weather’s rude.’

you’re about to hand him the hoodie when he steps back and says, ‘come in. or you’ll catch something.’

and you do.

you sit on the edge of his couch, water dripping from your sleeves. he disappears for a second, returns with a towel and a mug of something warm. tea. maybe. you’re not sure. you’re too busy watching the way his lashes stick together from the rain. the way his hoodie is half-zipped, revealing the curve of his throat.

he crouches in front of you, drying your hands first.

‘you didn’t have to,’ you murmur.

he shrugs. but his hands linger.

‘you’re kind of important,’ he says, soft. like it’s not a big deal.

you look at him. really look.

his curls are damp. his eyes are tired but bright. his thumb is brushing along the back of your hand like he doesn’t want to stop touching you.

and you lean in first.

not much. just a little. but enough.

his breath catches, and he moves with you. quiet. slow. no rush.

his lips find yours like they’ve been waiting.

just the softest pressure. the rain still pattering outside. his hand resting against your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek like you might disappear if he doesn’t hold you right.

when you pull back, he stays close.

forehead to yours.

‘finally,’ he whispers.

and you smile.

epilogue::

he’s already seated when you get there.

hood up. headphones around his neck. hoodie sleeves bunched up on his forearms. curls peeking out messily. the most him he’s ever looked.

you stop in the aisle for a second, grinning.

‘you’re in the window seat?’ you tease.

he peeks up at you with that sleepy half-smile, eyes already warm.

‘wanted to watch the clouds. but i’ll trade if you want it.’

you shake your head and slide into the seat beside him. ‘nah. wanna lean on you.’

he makes a soft sound, half a chuckle, half a breath, and reaches for your hand almost immediately. it’s instinct, at this point. the way his fingers find yours without looking. the way his thumb brushes over your knuckles like he needs to remind himself you’re here. his.

you tuck your bag away, get comfortable, rest your head on his shoulder as the plane starts taxiing.

‘remember our first flight?’ you mumble.

he hums. ‘economy class. tragic.’

you laugh, sleepily. ‘you were grumpy.’

‘you held my hand during turbulence.’

‘you fell in love.’

he turns his head a little, presses his lips to your hair.

‘yeah,’ he says softly. ‘i did.’

you close your eyes, smile against his hoodie.

there’s no rush. no uncertainty. no almosts anymore. just his hand in yours, the hum of the engine, and the quiet thud of your hearts keeping time.

somewhere in the sky, between time zones and cloudlines, he whispers:

‘i’d sit in economy again if it meant meeting you.’

you don’t open your eyes. you just squeeze his hand and whisper back:

‘good thing you don’t have to.’

and he smiles, forehead resting against yours, while the plane lifts into the sky.

[n0vazsq]

Summer nights in Monaco | LN4 x Reader

pairing . . . lando norris x reader

summary . . . You and Lando meet during a night out in Monaco, starting a secret, undefined relationship somewhere between best friends and lovers

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 1.1k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . this took ages bc i have a neck injury saur......ill finish a pau request then im done for today sorry guys but my neck is killing me

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . You met Lando on a warm summer night in Monaco, the kind of night where the air hummed with life and the streets thrummed with laughter. It was supposed to be nothing more than a brief moment; a connection formed under the shimmer of neon lights, the pulse of music, and a few stolen glances across a crowded bar.

Neither of you had gone out looking for something more, but when he leaned in and introduced himself with a smirk that could knock you off your feet, you let yourself get swept up in it.

One night turned into two. Then three. Somewhere in between, you stopped pretending it was a fluke.

"It’s not serious," you’d told yourself. And he said the same, more than once. "No strings, no pressure." You were just two people who fit together a little too perfectly. The energy was easy, the fun intoxicating.

Lando liked being in control of the night, steering the adventure, whether it was exploring empty Monaco streets at 3 AM or guiding you through the best moments of your time together. And you? You were content to be the passenger, trusting him to take you wherever he wanted to go.

It worked, strangely, perfectly.

Your dynamic sat somewhere between best friends and lovers. It wasn’t messy. There weren’t arguments or unmet expectations because there were no labels. It was about feeling good and living in the moment. And Lando made you feel amazing. He was attentive in a way that surprised you, always knowing what you needed.

Whether that was a quick getaway, a night in, or just his presence beside you, arms wrapped securely around you like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

For Lando, you were a drug. The kind he didn’t need a fix for every day, but when he got a taste, he never wanted it to end. It was the secrecy of it all that made it even more addicting; the fact that nobody knew about you, that you existed only in the quiet spaces of his life.

The two of you had carved out a secret little world, one where there were no prying eyes or judgmental opinions. It was yours, and he guarded it fiercely.

But secrets don’t always stay hidden.

It was a Sunday morning when it happened. Sunlight poured through the windows of his Monaco apartment, casting golden patterns across the sheets.

You were half asleep, curled into his side, your face buried in his chest as his arm draped lazily around you. Lando, hair tousled and still a little groggy, had propped himself up slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

The picture had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to post it, hadn’t even realized he’d done it until his phone started buzzing uncontrollably minutes later. By the time he caught on, the damage had already been done. He swore under his breath, fumbling with his phone to delete the Instagram story, but it was too late. Screenshots had been taken. Twitter had erupted.

'Who is she???'

'No way. Lando soft-launching someone??'

'That’s 100% his girlfriend. I’m calling it now.'

You didn’t find out until you woke up, squinting at the screen of your own phone and the flood of notifications. Lando was perched at the end of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor with a sheepish expression when you finally looked up at him.

"You’re trending," you muttered, voice raspy with sleep.

He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Don’t remind me."

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. "So much for being a secret."

Lando looked up at you then, his gaze softening, though there was something else there, something you couldn’t quite place. "I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry."

You shrugged, shifting to sit up and run a hand through your hair. "It’s not the end of the world, is it?"

He blinked at you, surprised by how calm you were. "You’re not….mad?"

"No," you said simply. "You deleted it. What’s done is done."

Lando let out a breath, his lips twitching into a small smile. "You’re handling this way better than I am."

"Well," you teased, pulling the sheet around your shoulders, "maybe you’re not as good at keeping secrets as you think you are."

He huffed a laugh, crawling back toward you and flopping down on the mattress. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you into him as he buried his face in your neck. "You’re never letting me live this down, are you?"

"Never," you replied smugly, though you were smiling.

For a while, neither of you said anything. You stayed wrapped in each other, his thumb tracing slow circles against your hip as your breathing fell into sync. It was moments like this that reminded you why it worked; the comfort, the quiet understanding.

After a long pause, Lando finally spoke, his voice low and thoughtful. "You know, I kind of like it. The idea of people knowing about you."

You froze, glancing down at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said softly, lifting his head to look at you. "I mean, I’ve kept you all to myself this whole time, but…." He hesitated, like he was searching for the right words. "You’re not something I’d ever want to hide. I’m proud of what we have, even if it’s just ours."

Your heart stuttered at his words, your chest tightening in a way you didn’t expect. "Lando…."

He smiled, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, then, finally, your lips. It was slow and deliberate, like he was trying to tell you everything he couldn’t quite say out loud.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his voice soft. "It’s still just us. No matter what anyone else says, okay?"

You nodded, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face. "Just us."

Lando grinned, his boyish charm returning as he nudged your nose with his. "Good. Now come on, you owe me breakfast for putting up with all this stress."

You laughed, swatting at his chest as he pulled you closer again, his laughter joining yours, filling the room with the sound of something that wasn’t quite love.

But it wasn’t far from it either.

[rinhaler]

holding you at gun point to write smth abt draken with this <3 (bonus points if daddy kink bc daddy issues go brrrrr)

ohhhhh my first tr writing on this blog lets gooooooooo

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, cheating, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, spit.

words: 1.1k

“Fuck—” you moan, feeling the impact of being slammed against the wall by Draken before he suffocates you as his lips encase yours. He’s so touchy, always has been, though things might have gone a tad too far this time. “K-Kenny, maybe we shouldn’t—”

“Sh, baby.” he interrupts, kissing you again before he trails his lips lovingly along your jawline and gropes your breast as he starts suck kisses into your neck.

“What about Mi- What about Manjiro?” you gasp, angling your neck to give him better access to you. You suppose you aren’t truly thinking about Manjiro at all. “He’ll be s-so mad at you, and me, Kenny, we shouldn’t be doing this.”

He silences you as he lifts you fully into his hold, your legs wrap around his waist and you capture him in another kiss. You can feel how hard he is, even through his jeans. And his moans, God, his fucking moans are spellbinding. You’d happily face Mikey’s wrath if it meant you can listen to Draken grunt and groan like this for you whenever you please.

“Fuck Mikey,” Draken tells you, his voice dropping a few octaves as he drops you down onto your mattress below. “I saw you first, y’know. Knew you were meant to be mine the moment I saw ya. And he fucking—” he stops himself, climbing on top of you and caging you beneath him.

Desperate hands reach and grab to hold him in any capacity. But he pulls away to yank down your panties. Although, his frenzied hands are too impatient, ripping them apart with ease.

You sit upright to chase him, eager to kiss him once more. He breaks it to throw his shirt over his head into a crumpled pile at the foot of your bed. He watches you, huffing excitedly as you undo his belt and pull down his zipper.

He grabs your chin, jerking your gaze upwards so that your needy, shimmering eyes answer the question of just how much you want him. Or, rather, need him. They’re glittering with want and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier pair of eyes.

You break the stare, your head drooping as you pull down his jeans and underwear in the same eager motion.

You’re almost salivating when you see his cock for the first time. Oh, he’s perfect. His leaking cockhead is flushed beautifully as he aches for you. He’s so messy, so beautiful. And it’s all for you. He smirks upon seeing a little bit of drool form on the corner of your slack jawed mouth. He wipes it, softly, before pushing you onto your back.

“You’re fucking soaked…” he laughs softly, pushing two fingers into your tight heat and scissoring you open briefly. His hands, you’ve never failed to notice, are massive. They’re veiny and intimidating, his fingers curl deep in your walls. And they venture deep enough to have you screaming as he finds your g-spot. “I can’t wait anymore, baby, I’m sorry… hope that was enough for ya.” he warns you, pulling out his fingers and lining up his cockhead with your wet hole.

“Unff, f-fuck, Kenny…” you mewl, nails clawing into his muscular back as he splits you open on his length.

“Fuuuuuck me, baby.” he chuckles shallowly, slotting himself inside fully until he has no length left to give. And he fucks you, slow but deep. Skin slapping against skin filling the room you sleep in, usually, beside Mikey. “Your pussy’s made for me, can feel it…” he tells you, kissing you right after.

“Wanna be d-daddy shaped, p-please, fuck me hard.” you tell him. Black eyes widen with lust and adoration after hearing you speak so salaciously. A large hand frames the lower half of your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker for him. And he can’t help himself, he can’t fucking control himself. You see his mouth contort and then you’re hit with a glob of saliva, his spit landing perfectly between your lips and slithering onto your tongue.

“Swallow it, baby, g-good girl…” he struggles to keep his composure as he fucks into you. You are a good girl. So obedient, so fucking perfect. And the moan that leaves him is almost angelic as he watches you swallow his spit so beautifully. “This is daddy’s pussy, yeah? Gonna let me fuck this little cunt as much as I want, aren’t you? Until you’re fuckin’ mine.” he speaks, knowing in reality it makes no sense. You’re already his, in his mind.

Consequences be damned.

You wrap your arms around his body, holding him close as he pounds into you. You know you have to be quick about this, Manjiro could be home at any minute. But you can’t stop before you’re satisfied. Before you’re done. Before you’re fucking ready. He rests his forehead against yours for a moment as he lets himself enjoy the moment, fully.

And you practically feel his cock twitch when he pulls away to look into your pathetic wet eyes. Are you really going to cry from the pleasure? Is he making you feel that good?

“P-Put a baby in me, daddy?” you blink up at him so fucking innocently. Are you serious? Have you forgotten who you’re meant to be committed to and that you’re not meant to be doing this right now? Draken isn’t sure he heard you right. Not until you repeat it with a broken whisper and little please please please’s spilling from your lips with each thrust.

He doesn’t think he’s ever cum so fast in his life. Fractured moans fighting their way out of his lungs as he fucks his cum hard and deep into your unprotected womb.

“Fuck, I’m sorry…” he apologies, he’d had no intention of cumming that quickly. “’m not done with you.” he promises, pushing one of your knees into your chest before searching for your aching clit as you make out nastily.

Tongues and moans dizzying your brain with each swipe of his fingers.

You hope Manjiro won’t be home anytime soon.

Because you can’t get enough of his best friend.

© 2023 rinitxshi

[juliettejwnewinesa]

hii babe!! 💖 i had a spicy lil idea for a heeseung ff if ur taking requests hehe what if he gets caught in a celeb scandal bc he’s lowkey sleeping w his stylist 😭 like the media finds out, fans go feral, and it’s all messy + dramatic?? i feel like u’d eat that up fr 😩💅

omggg STOP 😭😭 that’s actually such a serve omg why did my brain immediately start plotting when i first saw this request 💅 the drama?? the forbidden vibes?? the press conferences and fan chaos??? i’m obsessed 😩 I like made it suoer quick cuz I had exams so def not my best work but here you go babe, hope you like it 💋

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

Behind the curtains

You jolted awake to the sound of your phone buzzing on the nightstand. The room was dim, the soft light of the morning creeping through the curtains, but your mind was still foggy from sleep.

You reached for your phone, half-expecting it to be a spam message or an alarm. Instead, your eyes widened when you saw the notifications flooding in.

"Dispatch Exclusive: ENHYPEN’s Heeseung Spotted Leaving Hotel With Stylist — Are They Dating?"

Your thumb trembled as you opened the article.

"ENHYPEN's Heeseung caught in scandalous hotel sighting with his stylist, Y/N! Fans are divided—are the two secretly involved?"

Your heart skipped a beat as the blurry photos filled your screen. There you were. The image of you and Heeseung walking side by side through a hotel parking garage, your hand brushing against his.

No.

You couldn’t believe it. The one moment that had been meant for the two of you alone—the stolen kisses, the secret smiles—was now plastered all over the internet. You hadn’t even realized you were walking that close to him. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Your stomach churned as you skimmed through the angry comments flooding in.

"How could he do this?" "She's just his stylist! This is a PR disaster." "Why would he risk his career for a stylist? So disappointing."

The screen was a blur. Your mind was racing.

Then, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from Heeseung.

Heeseung: We need to talk.

The message was simple. But the weight of it felt like a punch to your chest. You felt yourself freeze, eyes locked on the screen.

Heeseung. He knew. He had to know by now. Was this his way of owning up to it? Or was it something worse?

You texted back, heart pounding.

Y/N: What’s going on? This isn’t supposed to be out there.

Seconds later, his reply came.

Heeseung: I’m sorry. I didn’t want this. I should have protected you.

You didn’t remember getting dressed. You barely remembered the cab ride. But somehow, you were at Heeseung’s apartment, your knuckles white as you knocked on his door.

The silence in Heeseung’s apartment was deceptive—too soft, too still—like the calm before the storm. You sat on the edge of his bed, legs curled under you, your phone vibrating nonstop next to you.

Neither of you had said a word in a while.

Heeseung paced the room, one hand in his hair, the other gripping his own phone like it was mocking him. Missed calls. Dozens. Yours looked the same.

“Is this it?” you asked, voice small.

He stopped, turning to you.

Your eyes met, and suddenly you hated how different this felt from just hours ago. You’d been safe then. Now you were caught in a spotlight you never asked for.

His voice cracked. “They’ll make us end it.”

You swallowed hard, throat burning. “Would you?”

Heeseung walked over slowly, sitting beside you but not touching you. “No,” he said firmly. “But I don’t know how much damage control they’ll let me do. I’m not just a rookie anymore—I’m a brand now.”

You flinched at that word. Brand. You weren’t a brand. You were just a girl who fell in love with someone she wasn’t supposed to touch.

Then both your phones buzzed at once.

Your screen lit up with your manager’s name. His showed a company exec.

Neither of you answered.

Heeseung groaned, tossing his phone onto the bed with more force than necessary. “Fuck this.”

You just stared at yours, the guilt already forming a lump in your throat. “They’re going to blame me. They always blame the woman.”

His jaw clenched. “Not if I don’t let them.”

You shook your head. “It won’t matter. The comments are already brutal. My boss probably thinks I seduced you or something. They’ll call it unprofessional. They’ll say I ruined your image.”

He finally reached for you, pulling you into his lap so fast it startled you. His hands wrapped around your waist tightly, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he whispered. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane.”

You blinked back tears, hands fisting the fabric of his hoodie. “So what do we do?”

The phone buzzed again. And again. You ignored it.

Heeseung pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression raw. “We survive. Together.”

Then, without asking, he kissed you.

It wasn’t like before—not hungry or reckless—but slow and grounding. His lips moved with intent, like he needed to prove something to you, like he wanted to press this memory into your bones in case tomorrow everything went to hell.

When he pulled back, your breaths were shaky, mingling in the space between your faces.

“We’ll do our best,” he said softly. “Even if they try to tear us apart.”

You nodded, eyes stinging. “Okay.”

The world outside might be falling apart. But in this moment, on this bed, with the world buzzing angrily through your phones—you had Heeseung. And he had you.

[antheyaaa]

haayayyy OKOK SO I HAVE AN IDEA what if the reader was an artist and before they date cal or before they get to know cal they always drew him in their sketchbook since they had a crush on him and when they got to date/ got to know him he found their sketchbook?? (I'm heavily projecting bc I love drawing my crushes)

"Drawn to You"

Calvin Gabriel x reader

Your sketchbook had always been your safe space.

Page after page, you filled it with little pieces of your world—quick doodles of passing strangers, detailed portraits of people you admired, messy scribbles of fleeting emotions. But lately, one face had dominated your pages. Sharp eyes, furrowed brows, a hint of a smirk that never quite reached his eyes. Calvin Gabriel.

It had started before you even really knew him. Before you were dating, before you even had an excuse to talk to him, you had been captivated. Something about the way he carried himself, always half in the shadows, always looking like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, made your fingers itch to capture it.

And so, you had.

Over and over again.

And now, months into your relationship, your sketchbook was still full of him. The only difference was that now you had real moments to go along with the drawings—the way his hand lingered on yours when he thought no one was looking, the way he let out a soft huff of laughter when you said something dumb, the rare, almost shy smile that made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest.

You never really thought about what would happen if he saw them.

Until now.

—

You had been in a rush that morning, stuffing your books into your bag with all the grace of a sleep-deprived zombie. In your hurry, you hadn’t even noticed that your sketchbook—your very private, very incriminating sketchbook—had fallen out onto Calvin’s bed.

So, of course, when you returned to his place after school, you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through the pages like it was the most casual thing in the world.

Your heart stopped.

“Calvin—!”

His head snapped up at your panicked voice, eyes widening slightly. Then, as if realizing he had been caught red-handed, he smirked—smirked.

“So,” he drawled, holding up the open sketchbook, “wanna tell me why I’m basically the star of this?”

You felt heat crawl up your neck, a mortified mix of panic and sheer regret. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Oh, yeah?” He flipped to another page, tilting his head as he examined one of the more detailed sketches—one where you had actually taken your time, shading in the way his hoodie bunched around his shoulders, the way his hair fell messily over his forehead.

“I—” you started, but your words died in your throat because he wasn’t mocking you. His expression had shifted, the teasing smirk still lingering, but softer now. More thoughtful.

“This one’s really good,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “I look kinda cool here.”

“You are cool,” you mumbled, arms crossing over your chest.

Calvin snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

You huffed, moving forward to snatch the sketchbook from his hands, but he was faster, leaning back just enough to keep it out of reach.

“Not so fast,” he said, flipping another page. His eyes scanned the drawings, his smirk fading into something more unreadable. “So… you’ve been drawing me for a while, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Calvin—”

“I mean, like… a while.” He tapped a sketch near the front of the book—one from before you had even spoken to him. “This one looks old.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, your stomach twisting. “Yeah. So what?”

Calvin didn’t answer right away. Instead, he closed the sketchbook, resting his hands over it as he looked at you—really looked at you.

“You had a crush on me,” he said. Not a question. A statement.

You groaned again. “Shut up.”

He grinned, leaning forward slightly. “You totally did.”

“Calvin—”

“Like, before we even started talking?” His eyebrows lifted, a mix of surprise and something else—something warmer.

You sighed, dropping your hands. “Yeah, okay? I had a crush on you. And I guess drawing you was my way of dealing with it.”

Calvin was quiet for a second, fingers tapping idly against the cover of the sketchbook. Then, slowly, he turned it around and pushed it toward you.

“You should keep drawing me,” he said, voice softer now. “I mean, if you want.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “You… don’t think it’s weird?”

He shrugged, leaning back on his hands. “Nah. Kinda like the idea of being in your head that much.” He shot you a lopsided smirk. “Plus, you make me look good.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched despite yourself. “Cocky much?”

Calvin smirked. “You like me anyway.”

You huffed, shaking your head as you hugged the sketchbook to your chest. He wasn’t wrong.

And as he reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours with that quiet, effortless ease of his, you thought—maybe you’d draw him again tonight.

Hey, I had a hard week so I could only post it now,I don't know about you, but it's almost midnight where I'm posting this, so I can honestly say I've had a long and hard week. Remember, I'm happy to accept messages and requests. @joc3lynx I hope you like it, I won't lie, sometimes I also draw my crushes🫢.

With love-Antheya

[fangswbenefits]

been imagining a few tiny and adorable ways that sweet girl takes care of miguel.

• she gets him some food from the cafeteria during her lunch break bc she knows that he's always working hard and never takes time to go grab some food when he's supposed to. she'll also eat in the lab instead of the cafeteria bc she knows he doesn't like being around so many people. she clears her throat and loudly opens her food container to signal to him to take a break and feed himself, pointing to the container of food she got for him. (he acts like he's annoyed but he's so thankful for it bc he never realizes how hungry he is until he takes the first bite)

• one night miguel is so exhausted that he falls asleep in his office. sweet girl places a pillow underneath his head and carefully puts a warm blanket around him. then she'll quietly fix up the office the way he likes it so it's not messy in the morning (and maybe quietly giggle to herself bc awwwww he looks so cute when he's sleeping)

• fixing him up after a mission. miguel usually tends to his own wounds, but after a nasty fight with an anomaly, sweet girl isn't letting him out of her sight. she hums quietly as she works on cleaning wounds and applying the necessary bandages, and she doesn't notice his small, content smile bc she's in her own little world. he loves the song she's humming. he loves how gentle she is with him. she feels like home.

Thanks for this. Seriously. I am about to head to bed to get some rest and this just made my heart melt…………….

Now sweet girl is getting headcanons and I’m levitating……

Thank you so, so much… 🩷 feel free to share more, my friend.

My heart is full of love… I love these two so much

[kyber-crystal]

For requests, maybe something with rooster where you like to play little tiktok pranks on him. like imagine telling him you paid $200 for premium air in your tires or supergluing a jar and he can't open it lol 😭😭 I just think he would have the best reactions to all of them

HAIJHSOJNSOJXN I JUST BUST OUT LAUGHING READING THIS (also despite being on tiktok i’m not super up to date on all the pranks bc they haven’t shown up a lot on my fyp. but i HAVE seen some stuff here and there so i will mostly be going off that haha). anyway i’m so sorry this was genuinely so cringe bc i haven’t done headcanons in a while but i hope it makes u laugh anyway :)) i have a better one shot coming your way i promise

rooster is the prankster of the group

but there’s only one person that can outdo him: you

this man practically falls to his feet when he sees you and worships the ground you walk on and somehow YOU CANT SEE IT

what this basically means is he will literally drop whatever he’s doing to listen to you

miraculously, cyclone is in a good mood, and thus decides to grant everyone three days off

this is the perfect time for you to mess with little rooster’s head :)

you know you go to the beach to play volleyball every friday. and this friday is supposed to be the hottest day of the month

this means that rooster will burn almost as quickly as he tans

while he’s busy chatting up some “game plan” with coyote, you swap out the sunscreen spray in his jacket pocket for baby oil

SO THEN he comes over to put it on, and not even ten seconds later he’s all shiny and sparkly and you try your hardest not to laugh (and gawk a little bc holy that man is TONED)

you’re able to get about 2 rounds in when he notices

“why do i smell like i just waltzed through a lavender field.”

“hmmmmmmmmm no idea” you smiled at him innocently

“it was you, wasn’t it” and he goes chasing after you as you shriek at the top of your lungs

(he managed to tackle you down and although you get a bit sand in your mouth and hair you count it as a win because you took him completely by surprise AND you got to see his bare chest but you wouldn’t fucking dare admit that to him, his ego is big enough as it is. rooster 0-you 1)

ok later that evening @ the hard deck, he’s on a phone call with one of his old college friends. for this one, you team up with hangman to hand him some of the most random things while he’s talking

you start off normal at first, like with a beer, then your hair tie (he always wears at least 3-4 of these on his wrist bc you always end up needing one at some point in the week.)

then hangman hands him a cube of ice. literally a cube of ice. but rooster barely reacts to this and just pops it into his mouth

then a lightbulb goes off in your head

knowing that rooster has an irrational fear of ladybugs, you quickly go out to the back to find one

then you come back and hold your hand out to him

and rooster, being rooster, LOVES physical contact (especially if it’s from you), and takes your hand in his as he continues talking

but then the bright red ladybug crawls onto his wrist and he almost immediately hangs up, drops the phone, and SCREAMS in the middle of the bar

you and hangman share a secret high five at this

but ALSOOO you kind of feel bad for scaring the shit out of the poor guy

that night you’re too lazy to walk back to your place so rooster offers to let you stay with him

and duh you say yes (it’s def bc you’re getting extra opportunities to pull pranks on him and not bc you have a fat crush on him and are hoping he’ll notice even though you’re the least obvious lil shit and prefer to show you care ab him by asking if he wants anything from costco or his fav restaurant down the street)

he ends up sleeping in the next morning, and you’re up pretty early, so you decide to make breakfast

you make a mental note to yourself to go on a grocery run together next week bc you were almost out of strawberry jam

he comes downstairs w/ messy hair and sits down at the counter

and he tries to open the jar of jam

but it won’t budge

he keeps trying for a minute straight but then gives up

so his eyes immediately go over to you and you play dumb

“i didn’t do anything i swear!”

“y/n.”

“i’m innocent!”

“y/n.”

he suddenly brushes your cheek with his thumb and you find this a bit strange since it’s so sudden. and still, your heart does that annoying thing where it skips a beat every time he touches you

“superglue…” he murmured. “i wonder how that got here?”

hahahahahahahaha you sure wonder. it’s not like you stole it while he was sleeping one night

anyway

later that night you ask him if he wants to go for a drive down by the coastline and he says yes.

“yknow, i paid $200 to get premium air for these bad boys!” you told him as you started the engine.

“you…what…”

“for my tires!”

he looks flabbergasted

“y/n, i think you got scammed”

“ok”

you keep driving anyway, the car did NOT feel any different like the mechanic promised it would

but you were no way in hell about to admit that to an already smug looking bradley bradshaw

rooster has finally, FINALLY started to catch onto your antics

so he starts scheming all week to figure out how to get back at you

during this week you’re extremely busy flying back and forth with payback, lessons with maverick, and staying up way too late with phoenix to talk about the latest season of your favorite show

so you don’t even notice that he hasn’t been around for a hot min

then one thursday afternoon right after you got out of the shower, you get a text from him that tells you he’s grabbing some fancy dinner with the guys in an hour and to dress fancy

this has you SCRAMBLING to change bc the place he’s referring to is absolutely legendary

so you show up to the restaurant all polished up and find him in a private booth in the back

“hey…”

rooster is suddenly speechless bc when he told you to dress nice, he didn’t expect you to look like an actual angel

“y/n…you look beautiful”

“thank you…but hey, where is everyone?”

“running a bit late, they should be here soon”

so you order first and wait. and wait. but nobody else shows up

and suddenly the space between you two felt like it had been chopped in half and now you were sitting a lot closer than you remembered

“okay i lied, i’m sorry” he says all of a sudden and you’re like huh tf u talkin ab “i never asked them to come. this is a date. we’re on a date.”

“we are?”

“yes”

so in the end…it’s ultimately you who gets pranked :)

:) :) :) :) :)

…

taglist (add yourself here!): @uwiuwi @queenbbarnes @cosm1cfae @ellabellabus07 @vitanileon @criminalyetminimal @whatlovegattado @and-claudia @bittergomez @julia-marshal @elenavampire21 @totomoshi @lyn-lc @lunamoonbby @paintballkid711 @yeehawnana @hazelgirl355 @spawn0fsatan @teacactusworld @icemansgirl1999 @cherry-waved @littlebadariell @tallrock35 @hoedameronsworld @aerangi

also quick PSA: my taglist spreadsheet hasn’t been updated in a while so this list may not be completely accurate, sorry for any inconveniences : ‘/

[nani-nonny]

Gotta put in my media literacy cap on bc I’m eepy

“#i think I should mention that 4 is the symbol of death and the circle tiles are representing coin/money”

OH!

Okay so

Leo’s sneakily telling Fi that they need someone dead and Fi’s accepting the job in exchange for a reward

Is she like an assassin/mercenary for the Resistance or something in the future bad timeline?

Also I like how Fi is awkward in her interaction with Casey Jr lollll she’s so caring but also so blunt

Hehe go to sleep Radio :D

And yes! There are children present so they’re censoring themselves :D such good role models :))) they’re using the game to converse while Junior is just happy with his uncle and aunt

And I suppose she kind of is like an assassin/mercenary… maybe cleanup crew? Hahaha! She takes care of “things” that may lead to longer, larger problems! If F!Leo dubs these “things” as a problem, then he will seek out Fi to fix the problem without rising suspicion/concern. F!Raph and F!Mikey don’t usually agree with this type of problem solving because it’s a little messy and sneaky, but they don’t stop it. —And because Fi is good at what she does, so they trust it will be solved as soon as possible.

They may assist in these types of problems or do it themselves, but Fi completes them faster and cleaner than they would hahaha! It’s their curse as the main characters /j

[astravv]

ꜱᴋɪʀᴍɪꜱʜᴇʀ — ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

✰ — 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ▸ hi i really like dottore also don’t come at me if the time line is wrong bc i’m making it a two month difference between inazuma archon quests and sumeru ones. but i did try to look and see a timeline of this but i got super lazy. if someone in the comments does want to let me know how much time it is supposed to be between inazuma and sumeru bc i am genuinely curious.

✰ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 ▸ sexual content , eating out , fingering , cursing

✰ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬) ▸ dottore x f! reader

✰ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ▸ you were the tsarita’s assistant, her right hand woman, whatever you’d like to call it. you and her had a bond since she took you in from the house of the hearth. when scaramouch rebelled against the divine, you became the next number six of the eleven fatui harbingers.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢

two months before รςคгค๓๏ยςђє removed himself from irminsul

you enter the jester’s office, with a wide smile upon your face. you head over to the jester’s desk and stand right in front of him. since the jester is number one of the harbingers, he got the biggest office and sleeping quarters. pierro’s office was huge with his own library and chess table, where two of the gnosis were sitting, like they were being used to play chess. there was curtains and his sleeping quarters connected to his office, also a very nice and large bedroom.

“y/n,” the jester sets both of his elbows on the table, connecting his fingers together and lying his chin on the connected hands. “you have a lot of responsibility now, you are sixth of the eleventh fatui harbingers, the skirmisher.”

“yes,” you reply coldly. “you act like i barely had any responsibility to begin with. do i have to remind you that the tsaritsa herself, chose me to be her assistant?”

“like that matters, y/n.” the jester groaned. “i don’t feel like getting into this with you. go decorate your new room or something.”

you scoff and walk out of the overly large door. as you head out, a familiar voice comes behind you, following you through the hallway.

“what was that about?” il dottore asks, trying to catch up with me.

“oh just pierro being pierro.” you chuckle, heading right the staircase, but dottore runs in front of you and grabs your hand, walking you down the stairs. he steps at few in front of you on the last few steps and kisses your hand.

“y/n, my darling,” dottore smiles, “you’re officially replaced the Շђє ๒คɭɭค๔єєг, which means, will you be staying in my office?”

“if you are lucky, doctor.” you smirk, blowing him and kiss and skipping ahead of him.

“mm, if i’m lucky, huh?” dottore smiles, walking over to the large glass windows of zapolyarny palace. you head over to him, also staring out the window to the dark, cold night that fell upon sneznhaya.

“when do you leave for your trip to sumeru?” you question quietly, holding your large fatui coat over you so you wouldn’t freeze to death in the hallway which is cold as ice.

“in a few days, why? are you going to miss me?” dottore teases, cupping your cheek with his surprisingly soft hand.

“of course. who else am i going to talk to?” you roll your eyes, melting into dottore’s touch.

“you have arlecchino and columbina, darling.” he replies, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead. “come spend the night in my room, it’ll wash away all those bad feelings, y/n.”

“you’re right.” you mumble, following dottore back to his assigned bedroom.

once we got there, he opened the door, letting you in and for a few seconds you study the room. dottore’s room is a bit smaller than pierro’s. he has a lab set up and his office is very messy, with quite a few papers strung about. through the corridor where large curtains are hung up is his actual living quarters, with a big bed and lots of room for a couch and bookshelves.

dottore walks you to his living quarters and he flops down onto his bed. you roll your eyes at him, making your way to his closet to change into something you had left in his room for nights like this.

you slip out of your large coat and your outfit, putting on some small silky pink shorts and a white tank top that really showed your chest off nice.

you head over to dottore’s bed and flop down beside him.

“i really don’t want you to leave.” you murmur softly. your words really just go through one ear and out the other with dottore. but he turns to you and smiles a little.

“since you don’t want me to go, i can make tonight memorable for you.” dottore coos, pulling himself on top of you with a smirk plastered across his face.

“oh really now?” you tease, “let’s see how memorable we can make it.”

dottore wastes no time pulling up your tank top and setting his hands on your plush chest, squeezing it and teases your nipples softly.

“you drive me insane, y/n.” dottore growls, bending himself down and latching onto one of the nipples he had previously been teasing. he licks and bites and sucks on the mound, like he was so hungry for it.

“mm, dottore.” you moan, “i’m going to miss this while you are gone.”

“i’m sure you will, y/n.” dottore mumbles, shuffling himself down further between your thighs. your breath hitches as he parts your thighs, kissing your clothed cunt. he softly pulls your shorts and underwear down, throwing them somewhere off the bed. you move your hand down and slide your fingers through his soft hair, give him some soft head scratches.

he kisses your wetness and starts to eat you out, devouring every inch of you that he can take advantage of as he pleases. he licks your slit up and down, causing your legs to close around his head.

“mm, you taste so divine, my love.” he murmurs, sticking one of his fingers inside of you, slowly pushing them in and out. usually, dottore was quick with his motions of intercourse, but tonight he was taking his time with you.

suddenly, the door is pushed open, and there in his office, the regrator stands with his mouth slightly agape to what he was seeing.

“dottore?” pantalone calls out, crossing his arms and turning around so he wouldn’t be staring right at your half-naked body.

“what, pantalone? can’t you see i’m a little busy?” dottore groans, setting himself up and pulling the covers over you to hide you.

“come outside.” pantalone gestures, walking out the door, closing it on his way out.

“my god.” dottore rolls his eyes, looking back at you as he softly grabs your hand and leaves a small kiss on it. “i will be back.”

dottore gets off the bed and walks out to where pantalone is, closing the door to his room so you couldn’t hear anything they were saying.

dottore stands in front of pantalone, crossing his arms and giving him a pissed off look.

“you and y/n?” pantalone mentions. “how’s that?”

“it’s frankly none of your business, regrator.” dottore growls, “don’t tell anyone about this. we are not public yet.”

“you will be public if she keeps spending the night in your room. don’t think i haven’t seen her sneak in there at the dead of night when she’s usually asleep near the tsaritsa’s living quarters.”

“so you’re stalking her, hm?” dottore groans, clenching his hands together, almost ready to punch the banker in his face. “i don’t take lightly to stalkers, if we were subordinates or not.”

“no,” pantalone sighs, “i wasn’t stalking her. i was in the same hallway and managed to see her walk into your room.”

“how did you know she’s spending the night then?” dottore questions.

“it’s just a hunch, doctor, no need to get so serious.” pantalone replies. he chuckles a little at the end of the sentence, but dottore can tell it’s just him trying to light up the mood.

“so what did you even need me for? to see if your suspicions were correct? to ridicule me about y/n?” dottore demands, he can feel himself heating up as he spits out his words.

“no, i wanted to let you know that we’re having a funeral for rosalyne tomorrow.” the regrator answers, turning himself around, ready to walk away. “don’t be late.”

“fuck you, pantalone. i came out here to hear that?” dottore growls, he shakes his head and opens his office door immediately slamming it behind him, locking it too.

“what’s going on?” you ask softly as you sit up, staring at dottore who’s facing the door with a very angry expression.

“it’s nothing, darling.” dottore smiles, walking over to you and flopping beside you on the bed.

“we should probably just go to bed, it’s late.” you murmur, pulling the covers over your body and staring at the white, blank wall.

“i would figure so too.” dottore pulls the sheets over him and pulls you closer, wrapping him arms around your waist and nuzzling himself into your neck. “i’m sorry.”

“dottore, apologizing to me?” you chuckle, cupping his cheek with you hand.

“shut up.”

one month before รςคгค๓๏ยςђє removed himself from irminsul

“how are you settling in?” columbina’s soft voice asks over the dinner table. when columbina talks, she has this sorta creepy vibe to it, but it’s very melodic. “i know it must be different than being with the tsaritsa.”

“it’s been alright,” you reply, moving the food on your plate around with your fork. you haven’t really been the happiest lately, since dottore has left for sumeru and all of his segments are busy doing who knows what. “it’s not much different, just more lonely, i would suppose.”

“you can always talk to me if you get lonely, we’re here.” arlecchino, who is seated next to you, suggests.

“you’re right.” you nod, finally taking a bite of food.

arlecchino shoots you a small smile, and goes back to looking at columbina, who’s sitting across the table from her. everyone at the table is chatting but you. you can’t seem to swallow down your food, or even think of anything other than the fact that you feel like you don’t fit in. sure, you were raised in the house of the hearth, so you know how to fight, but you just feel like you haven’t done anything since you were promoted to fatui harbinger.

you would rather be doing something more useful during your time alone, sitting at your desk, thinking of when dottore returns. you visit the tsarista occasionally, but it’s been every now and then since you have been busy with tons of paperwork and assignments. however, they don’t give you many assignments, so most of your time is spent at your desk, pondering.

you sigh, getting up from the dinner table. you grab your plate and walk over to the kitchen, sliding your plate into the sink for the maids to clean. usually, you clean your own dish, but lately you’ve just been wanting to lay down in bed and be lazy.

you head for dottore’s room and not your own. you open the door to find the room just as he had left it. you shut the door behind you and walk over to the bed you and him usually share.

dottore told you that you probably needed to go sleep in your own assigned room, since people would find it odd to see you sleeping in the doctor’s bed without him even present.

you don’t care though, so you flop yourself down onto the comfy bed sheets and find yourself getting lost in your train of thought again.

“dottore..” you mumble. “come home soon, please.”

[whats-it-mean]

hii could i request natsume x insomniac reader like they stress a lot and he probably tries to cast a spell on them to makes them fall asleep but they resist. if that's okay ofc~

Sleeping spells ☆

Natsume Sakasaki x Reader

A/N - natsume is so hot im so normal about him ahahahahhahahah. also tysm for the req !! ofc its fine, when i saw that i had an enstars req i got so excited lmao, i hope you like this!!

C/W - Use of pet names (kitten specifically bc its natsume), barely mentioned drugs

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You hated when anyone commented on your sleeping habits. You were well aware it was probably unhealthy for you to be staying up all night the way you were, whether voluntarily or not, but at this point you were starting to embrace your more nocturnal sleep schedule. By now you were starting to enjoy the way the sky looked at night compared to during the day, and napping in class wasn’t even that bad.

Until, of course, you practically passed out while overseeing one of Switch’s practices.

You kept on trying to explain to the rest of them that you had just tripped on something, which Tsumugi and Sora seemed to accept after you repeated it 3 or so times, but even as he sighed and escorted you off to the dorm rooms, you could tell by his tone that he saw through your facade.

The moment you were out of earshot from the rest of Switch, he held out an arm to stop you from walking and narrowed his eyes at you.

“You need sleep.”

You huffed, turning your gaze away from him as he said this. “But- Like- It’s not even that big of a deal, as long as I’m still getting through my classes and---”

He gave you an exasperated sigh before offering you a fond, albeit clearly annoyed smile. “It doesn’t work like that, kitten. It’s important that you take care of yourself.” He ruffled your hair a bit, before bringing his hand to his chin and letting out another sigh. “Well, in this case….. I suppose I’ll have to have you stay the night in my dorm for a bit to make sure you actually get some rest.”

You pouted. “What difference will that make? I don’t get much sleep no matter where i go-”

“Have you forgotten that I’m a distinguished magician? I’ll help you fall asleep, don’t worry.” He grinned at you, offering out his hand expectantly, staring at you with those eyes that you had no chance of saying no to, and letting out a little chuckle when you took it. His hand was warm, and he held yours rather carefully as he guided you off to his lodgings, humming a tune all the while.

The dorm room was simple, aside from the mess of scattered papers with what you could only assume to be Tsukasa’s unfinished compositions. There was a small corner dedicated to Natsume’s work, with various symbols outlined in chalk on his desk. Immediately, he gravitated over to the corner with his things, shifting objects around for a moment and mumbling something to himself before he scribbled something in messy handwriting onto a sticky note on the table.

He turned and made his way over to you, where he just smiled at you as if you were supposed to know what was going on.

“Um.. Natsume…?”

He simply kept on giving you that almost unsettling, close-eyes smile before offering you some sort of small bottle, with an unidentified liquid in it that you would have absolutely assumed was drugs if it wasn’t coming from him. He frowned a bit when you hesitated to take the bottle, and placed a hand on his hip.

“It’s perfectly safe, I promise you. It’s just a simple potion to help you sleep.”

You pouted again, taking the bottle after a moment of skepticism. “Do I have to-”

“Yes.”

The boy let out another chuckle at your antics, leaning in for a moment to give you a slight wink. “If you comply and get some rest, you can have a kiss as a reward, okay?” 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[did-system-did]

I’ve been living alone for the first time in my life for about 5 months now and i wanted to share some things i learned as well as what im going to start trying to do to help myself

1. Time is Hard 🤓

Like, yeah duh, as a system ig it’s a no brainer. But i also don’t have a job right now, and i knew time blended together but it’s increasingly difficult to manage my time, be aware of time, and plan what i do with my time. i wake up, ???????????????, and then it’s night time.

This as been incredibly frustrating for me and lately i’ve been feeling pings of shame that i can’t function. I’ve tried buying a planner, i lose my planner or forget to write in it if i ever do find it. i’ve tried reminders on my phone, i read them and they don’t spark any sort of intention to complete….

WHAT IM TRYING

-Using a whiteboard on my fridge where i put down important things i MUST do

-Setting timers throughout the day to grab my attention. I’ll be starting with one every 2 hours and see how it works for me

2. There’s an Outside???

I cannot tell you the last time i’ve gone outside. I suspect this is connected to my childhood, as for years i was never allowed to leave my room unless it was time to eat or go to school. So now as an adult it’s difficult to even THINK about outside, what’s that?, my brain sees my house as the world and i can spent weeks without leaving the property. some days i feel proud to just go into the backyard

WHAT IM TRYING

-get into a routine of going into the backyard at the same time everyday, for me in the mornings to start. and as time goes on, trying to take more walks, then grow from there and take a drive to the park or something?

3. Chores

This has been the bane of my existence since it’s directly connected to my trauma. i find it difficult to complete household tasks without external pressure or threats, so it’s common for my space to get messy and i’ll have blindness to it all. i hate it.

WHAT IM TRYING

-I used to plan a day to clean every week, but quickly learned that my planner was not going to work for me. so i’ll be trying to clean as i go and not put so much pressure on myself to complete everything in day like i was doing before. Leaving my room? what can i take with me or put away before i go. Leaving the kitchen? what can i put away or wash before i go. i’m hoping this will help facilitate small accomplishments versus thinking i have to clean the whole house in a single day

4. Eating is Hard

i’ve lost an alarming amount of weight due to dissociating through hunger pings or overall not noticing when i should eat. this has started to affect my energy levels and sleep quality and i also suspect stems from my trauma

WHAT IM TRYING

-I’ve been battling this consistently to no avail so i’m finally scheduled to see a nutritionist next month bc with all the other struggles im facing, this particular issue has fell thru the cracks and i couldn’t manage it on my own.

-But i suppose the best thing i’ve tried is actually recognizing it as a problem instead of talking myself out of it by saying “i’m only fasting” when i knew in my heart it was deeper than that

Overall Update: it’s been a tough couple months, but i’m finally getting the ball rolling and the referrals scheduled. im still waiting to hear back for my mental health referrals but im feeling more hopeful about my journey and working on accepting my struggles instead of trying to pass as healthy.

[thequietesthing]

since everyone is giving their two cents about the new taylor swift album, i’ll also do the same (it’s more like ten cents cause it’s very long sorry)

first of all, this album (i’m talking about ttpd: the anthology with all 31 songs) can be truly appreciated once you hear it at least twice with the lyrics right in front of you. the reason for this, imo, is pretty simple; the first thought i had while listening to this the first time (and be mindful of the fact that my mind was huddled with sleep bc it was very early) is that it sounds like a diary, more than any other of her previous albums. which is why, i think, that the people that don’t particularly like it may never have kept a personal diary in their life. and i’m not talking about gratitude journals, i’m talking about “teenage petulance” written words, with anger, resentment, hope, love and sadness. which would very well explain the lack of “storyline” that i’ve seen people complain about, in the sense that she doesn’t create stories within her songs but only verbose imaginaries. when you write in your diary you use metaphors, analogies and periphrasis but since it’s something raw and yours you don’t need to craft a story about it because the diary it’s something you write for yourself, so you don’t need to make the effort of making something “pretty” as it’s not supposed to be read by anyone else. it often feels like an unending river flow of messy words because that it’s how writing your own feelings looks like. also the fact that she often reports pieces of dialogue she imagines hearing or that someone actually said it’s a very typical trait of diary entries.

second of all, the games of assigning which song to who can be fun for like the first two hours but then it gets very freaking boring. if you don’t understand that everything that she writes she writes about how she feels and about how other people make her feel you have not been paying attention. she is the main character; if the issue for you is whether that song is written for that person instead of another, you are giving more importance to secondary/recurring roles than to her. these are her words, her story. and i’m not saying it’s not fun ok, catching references to ex-boyfriends or other people, but you can’t, and you shouldn’t, make an entire album that she wrote about her personal intimate experiences about someone else.

to circle back to the lyrics, i think that this album may be one of her best works. they are smart on both a linguistic and metaphorical level. as someone who deeply enjoys english as a language i always have the time of my life listening to her albums and her choice of association of words, themes and rhymes.

a last point regarding the tunes. i am by far the last person that knows anything about music, you give me a pretty tune and i usually like it regardless of where is from (cue my very eclectic music tastes) so when everyone said that all the music sounded alike i was like uhmm. when i heard it a second time (guys the key it’s really in this!!!) i was like no they are different from one another. but also, and this may be a little far fetched so feel free to disagree but it’s what i perceived, is that in this album she may have put much more effort in the lyrics than in the music. not always obvs she is a musician after all, but i think that the turning point here, the thing that she wants us to pay attention to, are the lyrics (also why it’s called tortured poets department and not tortured musicians department :))

to sum everything up, i really really enjoyed this album when i listened to it the first time but i’m appreciating her skills and understanding her lyrics more the second time around. it’s an album that has to be let marinate, like a sauce, otherwise is gonna taste a bit acidic. anywho this is just my opinion, i just needed to tell it to someone and the irl people in my life are not willing to listen, so people of tumblr you are the unfortunate recipients of my two cents on ttpd :)

[chiikawahypemomentsandaura]

Okay. Chiro if she was a little fucking freak. I’ll explain all the headcanon stuff below if you care LOL..the self projection is insane

-gave him a mullet/longer hair. She deserves it. Also it’s naturally messy YESSS CHOPPY BANGS WE LOVE TO SEE IT GIRL🗣️

-either a scar or birthmark in the shape of sunrays over his eye. I think it’s interesting and it shows that he’s truly the chosen one or something idk. I’ll think of something interesting with it I just thought it looked cool (he probably puts makeup over it most of the time though)

-also a scarred eyebrow to match up with the birthmark thing

-the orange stripes on the mask are more shaped like a stream of tears if that makes sense ??? I always thought the stripes looked like a trail of tears kinda. And the spikes line up with the birthmark thing so I’m satisfied

-very raggedy scarf and clothes, VERY VERY heavily inspired off of her look in S2E3, I promise they weren’t that tattered originally though. I love tattered clothes like this sorry they look badass (once again this is why I say this isn’t a complete redesign because if it was they would not look like that. I just wanted to bc it looks cool)

-short sleeves and more sun symbolism on the sleeves, yay!

-wearing a dress (my gender-fluid chiro headcanon is REAL) and it’s meant to be styled the same as my silver antauri gijinka’s dress on purpose. On the orange inside part it’s supposed to look like sunrays (again)

-jinmay’s heart as a necklace. He wears it with pride

-baggy pants and combat boots combo my favveeeeee :3

-acne and a toothgap and (I was gonna add freckles but I feared it would be too much so just pretend freckles are there) because she’s still just 14 and most teenagers have acne!!!! we are wild with the self projection today

-actually somewhat muscular looking now

-her mask ties around in the back and for some reason I didn’t draw a side profile to show it but a long ribbon from the mask goes down in the back

okay that’s all it’s 2 am I’m going to sleep now

[ripe-lily]

CHAPT. I: Oh, Marianne Ja… What Was It Again?

༺𓆩༒︎𓆪༻

Marianne Janina Schäfer—or MJ, as she decided to call herself one random afternoon after binge-watching Spider-Man as a kid—loves joking about how her life literally feels like A24 movies. You’ll figure out why, eventually.

The girl grew up in Berlin with a family where she is a sibling to two big brothers and one little sister. Moving to Manhattan for college was supposed to be her cinematic coming-of-age moment like every other teen who’s severely obsessed with the show Friends or has listened to Empire State of Mind on loop. Strutting through the city that never sleeps while caffeinating herself with overpriced coffee was high schooler MJ’s constant pre-bed scenario. The reality is a bit heartbreaking, though: the cumbersome healthcare system, crappy subways, but somehow falling begrudgingly in love with the city anyway. Nero (Brother the Second™), who’s been a senior Manhattanite for college too, has been her guide during the stay. Or, major revision: her go-to emergency ATM when she’s broke and too scared to ask their Papa for more money.

Now being a college student (Class of 2026), MJ is majoring in English & History, which is a combination she swears makes perfect sense because understanding history helps you write better stories, duh. Her love for what she fondly calls “writing gibberish” earned her the position as an editor-in-chief of AXIS—her university writing dept’s official literary magazine—which she celebrates with a literal scream of joy. She loves the job most of the time, especially the perk of tossing out comments like this imagery is FIRE omgggg.

She somehow manages to have business with just about everyone on campus. Between her classes, her AX duties, and the various student orgs she’s loosely involved in, there’s always someone who owes her an email or the other way around. Need advice on your creative writing piece? Ask MJ. Trying to organize a campus-wide fundraiser? MJ’s name is somehow on the committee list. The taurean claims to love being busy, but the occasional passive-aggressive tweets (e.g. I WANNA GO BACK TO BERLIN) prove otherwise.

For MJ, life is one messy Notes app entry at a time. In a TikTok video she once watched, someone declared that a girl’s notes are the equivalent of a zoo. Hers is no different. Here’s a few from MJ’s, even:

March 25, 2024 | A list of my all-time favorite films, ranked by how much they made me cry

1. Dead Poets Societyyyy omfg he was good he was really good

2. Chat is it socially acceptable to sob during In the Heights or am I just mentally unwell

April 29, 2024 | Miss Kyoto as hell. I’d sell my soul to Satan to go back to 11th grade and relive my exchange semester in Japan bc WHY is the U.S. like this

September 15, 2024 | AX-Specific Brain Dumps

• Niel suggested experimenting with multi-format submissions (e.g. text, photography, audio? Could be cool thank God he’s my co-EIC)

• Shalom proposed a collab with the theater dept. for a lit showcase (YEEEES)

• Email Prof. Garcia about the creative nonfiction workshop (don't chicken out, MJ) (and DON’T accidentally send a meme this time)

• Proofread submissions. Specifically: that one about time travel (needs better pacing but WOW), Cal’s poetry (needs zero edits, must hype her up), the allegorical vampirism piece (genius or confusing? Idk but art is up to interpretation is it nooooot)

• REMINDER!!!!!: Lit Mag Social next month (organize icebreakers that aren’t cringe)

September 17, 2024 | Reminder: breathe. It’s fine. I’m fine. (??? Am I?)

September 21, 2024 | TO-DO LIST (MUST DO FOR REAL)

• Meal prep something that isn’t instant noodles (unlikely but aspirational)

• Read up on 20th-century political movements for Monday’s history seminar

• Finally do laundry please MJ don’t rewear the same shirt to class again tmr

• Look up exactly how to file taxes in the U.S. (??? still confused)

• Start outlining for next week’s debate bc somehow I’m on the committee again

• Create playlist for AXIS writing night.. maybe add more Phoebe Bridgers?

October 1, 2024 | Went to Nero’s band’s gig last night and a random stranger said my boots were bangers omg thank you thrift gods they were only like $10

October 12, 2024 | URGENT COLLEGE TASKS

1. Finish research for my essay on post-war European reconstruction

2. Finish the said goddamn essay before Saturday (or make peace with failing)

3. Prepare presentation for Modern Lit class on the role of existentialism in contemporary writing (oh God I’ll have to read so much Kafka won’t I)

4. Read for upcoming seminar on the French Revolution. But actually just watch documentaries lol

October 15, 2024 | Learned a bit of French instead of working on my assignments but at least I’ve found new favorite words of wisdom and that is je ne sais pas

December 31, 2024 | New Year’s Resolutions (pls manifest this):

• Write at least one short story that doesn’t feel like garbage

• Keep AX running without losing my sanity (amen)

• Actually set a budget and stick to it

• Survive whatever this semester is

• Call family more often bc Mama has started quoting Gloria saying “I’m losing my children to America!” and she might be right bc I fear I’m forgetting my Deutsch now

• Sleep before midnight at least once a week (lol good luck)