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jyoongim · 2 months

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Just found you and read all your Alastor fics. Love them! My request is jealous fucking with breeding. But the jealousy comes on because of Lucifer. Luci comes to visit the hotel and causally makes a sweet comment to reader but as soon as he notices that it pisses off Al, Lucifer just goes all in offer to buy readers soul and free her just to piss off Al until reader and Charlie have to break them up before they fight. Then comes in the breeding, so everyone knows your his as if him owning your soul wasn’t enough

Oh I appreciate it so much! I hope you enjoy it around these parts and I am happy you enjoy my writing!

Warnings: fem!reader, jealous!Alastor, flirting, Lucifer riling up Alastor, rough sex, breeding kink, pregnancy mentioned

The hotel was in an uproar over the King of Hell's impending visit.

Charlie was a nervous wreck and you were doing everything to make sure that the hotel was somewhat presentable and that everyone was well behaved.

”Now just be your charming self and make sure to help promote the purpose of the hotel for Charlie” you said fixing Alastor’s bow tie. He smiled down at you, waving his hand dismissively “Oh don’t worry my dear Ill be the perfect host. There’s nothing to worry about”

Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell…was not what you had expected.

You could see where Charlie got her flare from.

He was looking around the lobby, taking in the interior and the residents. You didn’t miss the way his face scrunched up a bit.

”And here are our lovely hotel managers dad” Charlie said, turning towards you and Alastor.

You smiled, giving him a slight curtesy “Its a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty, I hope that you enjoy your time here at the hotel”

Lucifer dawned a sultry smile, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips. Kissing it.

”The pleasure is all mine”

Alastor growled, stepping between the two of you. He gave a tense smile “Pleased to meet you sir” he slapped your hand out of his and took it to shake. Lucifer blinked, a slight frown on his face “and you would be?” A snort escaped the red demon

“Alastor! Im the host of the hotel. Maybe you’ve heard of my radio broadcast?” Lucifer deadpanned “nah never was one to consume media” he shrugged.

He slipped by to your side, looping an arm around you “Now I’m sure you wouldn’t mind giving me a tour hmmm? Show me all of the more intimate parts” he chortled, as you nervously turned to Alastor.

Alastor's smile was tense and his eye was twitching slightly.

Irritated and annoyed.

Lucifer seemed to pick up on that.

He eyed the lanky demon, before cooing at you “oh don’t tell me you need the bellhop’s permission? ”

oh no. The lights flickered.

You cleared your throat “I would be honored your grace,but Alastor knows the hotel better than I. He can show you around” you offered, making the King groan.

Charlie chirped in “Yes yes. Alastor has been a great help. Well shall we?”

The tour went without any mishap. Alastor had you tucked away into his side as Charlie gave a run through of what she was trying to achieve.

Charlie suggested dinner before her dad left, to give him a little convincing to help.

You bustled about the kitchen, setting everyone’s meal down and making your way to sit by Alastor.

A hand grabbed your wrist, you stiffened as Lucifer gave you a charming smile “why not sit by me. Charlie has told of some of the improvements you think would work for the hotel”

You heard a static buzz as you took a seat by him.

You listened quietly as Charlie went on and on about her plans.

Lucifer had been not so subtly subtly flirting with you the entire dinner.

”Well I will think about it Charlie. I do believe your dream is possible” She smiled happily. he turned his eyes to you

”Especially with such lovely help” you blushed.

He seemed more interested in you.

”sooo what’s your deal with that guy” he was referring to Alastor

you tilted your head in question, he clarified his intention

”I mean he own your soul or something? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be tied to the likes of him. how about I nullify whatever deal you made and you take you under my wing instead”

You looked at him shocked.

The sound of glass breaking sounded and Alastor shook his hand of the liquid once in the glass

He chuckled darkly “Well I am afraid it is late, wouldn’t you agree dearest?” His eyes narrowed on the man as he stood, coming around to stand behind you.

His eyes were black and glowing red as he practically sneered at the King.

Lucifer was unfazed by the intimidation tactic.

”haha what I strike a nerve? You’ve got this amazing beauty on a leash and for what? Im sure shell do much better being tied to you”

Before Alastor could lunge at the man, you stood up and pressed yourself against him as you heard Charlie grab her dad to pull him away.

Your hands reached for his face, turning his enraged eyes to you.

You shook your head at him slightly. You know when someone wa just trying to ruffle his feathers.

”I am feeling quite tired from today’s activities why don’t we turn in for the night yes?” You pleaded with him, softly pushing him back towards to door.

Large hands gripped your waist as his turned his eyes back towards Lucifer, he hissed lowly before whisking you out of the kitchen and to your shared bedroom.

———————————————————————————

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room.

You whined at a harsh thrust that jolted your body against the silky sheets.

The room was buzzing with static as Alastor fucked into you.

Green chains hung heavy around your collar as Alastor pulled on them to pull you into his thrusts.

He was pissed.

His usual composed and controlled demeanor slipping the moment he slammed the door.

He had taken you against the door roughly, too pent up to let you get a single word out.

He had thrown you onto the bed after, a dark aura surrounding him as his antlers grew with the angry emotions swirling inside him.

“Ah! Ha! A-Alastor!” You moaned as another orgasm racked through you.

He twisted your chains around his arm as he used them as leverage to drill his dick into you.

“Who do he think he is?” He growled, pushing your head into the mattress

“Thinking he can just take you from me…ME?! You are mine”

You let out a cry as he ruined your walls, balls slapping against your cunt.

“You wouldn’t leave my side would you sweetheart” he hissed down at you, turning your head so you could see him.

”Who would want you after I ruin you hmm? You would be nothing but sloppy seconds.” He regraded you, angry at the very thought of you thinking you could terminate your deal with him.

Your deal with Alastor was nothing too extreme. Your complete devotion to him for his protection.

While he might not admit it, Alastor had grown accustomed to you being by his side, able to help him see reason and take on tasks he found too mundane.

You were like his wife in a sense.

Soft and caring, always doing whatever he asked of you.

You never complained, happily fulfilling your duties to a tee.

And some goofy, short king thinks you would leave your benefactor?

Had he not given you anything you ever wanted?

You were the most free soul he had, that was a privilege.

Your cunt squelched as he pulled out, the tip kissing your outer lips as he stilled in his rough fucking.

You panted, clammy sweat sticking to your body as he tugged at your chains.

You were on your back, thighs spread around his waist.

A hand wrapped around your throat, Alastor leaning down to press a surprise soft kiss to your forehead

”You wouldn’t dare leave me would you baby” he cocked his head at you.

You shook your head quickly, hoping that he had blew off enough steam to finally be reasonable.

But Alastor’s jealousy was ugly.

He wouldn’t be done with you until there was nothing you thought about but him.

He should be what plagues your thoughts.

You should crave him by the time he was done.

He slotted back inside you, making you gasp as he returned to his fast pace.

”Leave me for that sorry excuse of a king? Ha! You wouldn’t. No not my pretty girl. Youre my good girl aren’t you?”

You mewled as you watch him transform.

”I-Im your good girl Ah! Pl-please!” Your eyes clenched closed in pleasure.

”Youre mine. You understand that? I own you. Your every thought. Every feeling. Your body, mind, and soul are mine. You gave them to me oh so happy. I can do whatever I please with you. Ruin you and dump you off into the street like a common whore if I wished”

You whimpered at his words.

”But thats not enough is it? Hmmm? Noooo. Youre not mine” he purred.

you pouted, ready to reassure him that you were, in fact, his.

He lifted one of your legs to your chest, angling his hips down

”Ill make sure every disrespectful wretch knows you are mine. Fir it seems my constant presence isn’t enough”

Your cunt fluttered.

How else would….

His dick hit that sweet spot deep inside you

”Oh! Ah!” His hand on your neck tightened as a sharp smile appeared on his face

”So maybe putting a claim to you will do the trick”

Your mouth shaped into an ‘O’ as he fucked you roughly, hips grinding down as if to make you mold to his very shape.

Sinners couldn’t reproduce.

Right?

that was your last coherent thought as he slammed his hips into yours over and over til he sighed, his dick twitching as he filled you with his cum.

You whined as he gave soft thrusts to keep his cum inside you, purring as it spilled around him, pooling around your ass.

You whined when he pulled out, hearing a soft ‘pop’ as you clenched around nothing.

A hand settled on your lower belly, now full of his cum, Alastor grinned wicked “Let’s see how much the pipsqueak will want you now my dear” he chuckled.

———————————————————————————

“Its nice to see you again sir” you said welcoming the King of Hell inside the hotel.

He smiled and once he got a good look at you, it fell.

”Charlie will be down in a second do you need anything?” You asked sweetly, hand resting on your swollen belly.

He stuttered out a response in surprise “O-oh w-why thank you. I take it you’ve been well”

Alastor manifested behind you, grinning at the short monarch, his arm roping around your waist, hand settling on the side of your stomach “Ah yes! We’ve been busy. Im sure you can tell”

Alastor- 2

Lucifer- 0

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel

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nadvs · 25 days

Text

watch and learn (part five)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

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The moon is bright and the air is brisk as you and Rafe sneak out of the lakehouse and rush towards the dock, still only in your bikini.

The stone steps leading from the porch to the backyard are slackened and a bit slippery, so you instinctually grab his hand to keep yourself steady.

He tenses immediately, his hand closing as your fingers pinch around his. He wriggles out of your grip.

“Rafe, I’m just trying not to fall,” you say, irritated.

“Watch where you’re going then,” he tells you. You scoff. Asshole.

This is just like the other night, when he warned you not to do any couple shit. As if you’d ever consider a relationship with someone so emotionally unavailable.

“You need to chill,” you tell him. “Holding hands for a few seconds doesn’t make us a couple.”

It’s too much for him, being touched by you in an affectionate, non-sexual way. You teased him the other day for cuddling you and he hated that you were sort of right about him liking it.

Rafe sighs and decides to just give in, offering his hand to you. You cup his cool palm and he doesn’t squeeze your fingers back. It’s fine. You only need the stability.

You reach the long, planked dock and let go of his hand immediately, following him towards the boat bobbing in the water.

“How’d you even get the key?” you ask, trying to push away the tension.

“Stole it,” he says.

“Wait, really?”

“No, not really,” Rafe teases, looking back at you.

You roll your eyes and smile. At least when you argue, it doesn’t last for very long. Besides, you’re both here for one reason and there’s no need to complicate things with any sort of petty conflict.

The cruiser boat’s shimmering black planes are sharp and sleek and the only covering is a glossy roof on angled pillars. You thought it’d be more private.

You stand behind Rafe as he begins to unravel the rope tying the boat to the dock.

“What if someone sees us?” you ask.

“Let them,” he grumbles.

“Rafe,” you warn.

“I’ll drive it out far,” he says, motioning towards the boat. “Go.”

You step onto the swaying boat and settle onto one of the two cushioned booths beneath the roof, watching him.

Even in the moonlight, you can see the planes of his biceps bulging beneath his t-shirt sleeves as he works on the rope. He seems to know exactly what he’s doing.

Perks of being rich, you figure. He’s probably lived such a privileged, comfortable life.

When Rafe steps onto the boat, he flips a few switches and turns the key into the ignition. Thankfully, the motor offers only a quiet hum, not alerting anyone in the house upstairs.

He slowly shifts the throttle forward with one hand, holding the steering wheel with the other. He’s so confident, so in control.

You were already turned on from the way he propositioned you upstairs earlier tonight, but watching him is making lust coarse through you even harder.

He may be a jerk most of the time, but he’s hot enough that you can ignore it.

“Do this with other girls,” you tell him. “Trust me.”

“What?” He glances back at you.

“Apparently, a guy driving a boat is hot,” you say. You almost forgot this whole arrangement was supposed to be instructional.

Rafe looks forward again, his lips quirked in a coy smile.

He slows the boat down in the middle of the quiet lake and kills the engine. The water ripples beneath you from the motion of the boat cutting through it.

He loves that you don’t wait for him to come to you. You wedge yourself between the wheel and him, pressing your body up against his, pulling him down to kiss you.

His hands find your waist, and you reach back to push them down to your ass.

“We skipping the foreplay you’re always annoying me about?” he mumbles against your lips, fingers digging into your skin.

“I hate to give you any credit,” you say, “but you already kind of did it. When we were talking upstairs and you said...”

“You can do it,” Rafe teases.

“That you could make me cum in a minute,” you finally say, body flushing with heat. “Foreplay can start hours before we even touch.”

“Damn, so… you been turned on since then?” he teases. It’s so gratifying that the whole time you were another guy, you were thinking about what Rafe would do to you.

“Shut up,” you laugh, pulling him in again, your hands cupping the back of his neck to kiss him.

Your open mouths are hot, tongues tangling together as Rafe grips your ass harder and grinds against you. His body curves into yours as he kisses you deeper, his touches growing rougher.

He pulls his shirt off and his bare chest against your half-naked body is firm and warm. His hand slides up the curve of your spine and finds the knot holding your bikini top together. He pulls the string, brushing down the straps and letting the bikini fall.

Rafe ducks to put one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking and flicking with his tongue, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

You throb with need as he licks you, taking in the sensation of the cold air pressing against your skin, his warm mouth on you, the boat gently rocking in the middle of the dark lake.

He puts his hand on your other breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple and your fingers find their way into Rafe’s soft hair, gently pulling at the roots, enjoying the grunt of pleasure you hear from him.

He eagerly pulls at the hem of your bottoms, mouth losing contact with you as he peels them down your thighs, crouching to get them to your ankles so you can step out of them.

“Damn, baby,” Rafe says huskily, taking the sight in. “Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” Your stomach numbs at his words. He’s been craving another taste of you for so long. Too long.

With his knees on the cold floor, he leans forward and flattens his tongue against your lips, earning a tremble from you. Your knees weaken as he uses his tongue to spread your lips apart, dipping between your folds with urgency.

You spread your legs and hike one up, resting your foot on the cushioned seat you were just sitting on.

“Good girl,” he says. “Spreading yourself open for me.”

You look down, moaning as he laps at you, taking in the way his eyes look in the moonlight, the way his hair is bunched between your fingers.

“Shit, that’s so good,” you purr. “You’re so fucking good at that.”

“I said less than a minute. Start counting,” Rafe says smugly. You giggle, amused and aroused and elated. The numbers sound weak as you start to mumble through them.

He starts to suck harder, slurping and enjoying your taste. Your voice immediately starts to waver and he pulls back.

“Don’t stop counting,” he orders.

“Four… five… six,” you continue breathily. Rafe closes his eyes as he savors you, already addicted to how you taste and how soft you are.

After working your clit, he shifts to shove his tongue inside of you. The sound of you trying to focus on counting while you moan from the pleasure he’s giving you is cosmic, out of this damn world.

Rafe continues to fuck you with his tongue, saliva starting to run down his chin, his nose wet from you. He moves back up to your clit, tongue flicking quickly.

“Thirty-four… oh, fuck…” you say.

“Oh, fuck? Is that a new number?” he mocks, making you smile and bite your lip as you tighten with bliss. You feel his big hand stroke up and down your middle, trapping your clit between his fingers and squeezing.

“Rafe,” you moan. “That’s so… fuck, that feels amazing.”

He smirks and locks his lips around your clit as he shifts to push two fingers into you. You clench around him and he can’t wait to be inside you.

He curls his fingers in and out of you while he sucks your clit, making you start to shake.

“Forty-one… oh, shit… okay, I’m…” you whisper, a wave of satisfaction prickling at your skin. He thrusts his fingers with more force, sucks harder, looking up at you as your mouth goes slack and your eyes squeeze shut.

Making a girl cum was always an ego thing to him. But he realizes that he loves making you orgasm simply because it means you feel good.

You unravel with a rippling rush through your body, fluttering around his fingers, bucking up against his face.

When you slowly come down from the climax, you pull your hips away from him.

“What number did you get to? Forty-one?” he teases. “What’d I tell you? Less than a minute.”

“So cocky,” you say, smiling and blissed out.

“Get on your back,” he orders, taking the condom out of his shorts before stripping the rest of his clothes off.

You settle on the hard boat floor, watching Rafe roll the condom on. You would’ve offered to put it on him, but he’s so rushed to dive into you.

You spread your legs and Rafe settles between them, pushing in with a quick thrust that makes you gasp.

He leans over to kiss you, swallowed by your slick warmth, letting you taste yourself on his lips. You tilt your pelvis up so he can get as deep inside of you as possible.

He pulls back and drives into you even harder, making you jolt from the force.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he orders you. You squeeze his taut torso with your legs, maintaining eye contact like he taught you. He’s gazing down at you, the starry sky shimmering behind him as he plunges in and out of you.

You’re so tight, so wet, so fucking perfect, that he doesn’t even want to cum, he just wants to feel the way you squeeze him.

His pace is fast, his eyes trailing over your face and committing the way you look when he’s fucking you to memory in case this is the last time.

The thought of losing this makes his skin burn.

Rafe’s palm presses at your neck, his fingers tightening around your jaw as he lowers himself and positions your head so that he can speak into your ear.

“You know he’s not gonna make you feel this good, right?” he mutters huskily. “He can’t eat your pussy like I can. He can’t fuck you like I can.”

This show of possession is just dirty talk, you tell yourself. But what if it isn’t?

Rafe props himself up again, gazing at you with his hand on your jaw as he thrusts in and out of you. How’s he supposed to be okay with someone taking you away from him?

You feel a cool drop of water on your arm. Then another on your cheek.

“Shit,” you gasp with a laugh. “I think it’s raining.”

He smiles while he looks down at you, enjoying the sound of your laugh.

“I don’t wanna stop,” he whispers. “Do you?”

You shake your head no and pull him closer so his warm cheek is pressed against yours. This is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. He’s filling you so nicely, both of you moaning and panting and laughing as the rain starts to come down harder.

You’re wrapped around him as he thrusts in and out of you hard and fast. The tension inside him finally snaps and he goes still before dissolving into pleasure, emptying himself into the condom.

He goes limp on top of you, panting against your neck. The rain is torrential and loud now, his back coated in water.

Rafe pulls out of you and you stand, laughing together as you rush to find your bathing suit top and bottom while he dresses himself, the wet clothes plastered to his skin.

You try to find shelter under the boat’s curved roof as Rafe starts the boat, watching him navigate and feeling your heart in your throat.

That didn’t feel like just fucking. The way he smiled at you was something else.

It’s late morning when you wake up, your friends still snoozing. You trudge downstairs and decide to enjoy the view of the lake that you didn’t get a chance to look at when you arrived yesterday.

You step out on the back porch, immediately thinking about how you snuck out with Rafe last night. And how you ran back inside, trying to be quiet, genuinely having fun with him. And everything in between.

You know it’s silly to overthink, but your mind replays what he said. You know he’s not gonna make you feel this good, right? He had to have been talking about Blake.

Was he jealous? The way he was smiling at you while he was inside you makes you think he does have a sweet side to him, that maybe he feels more than just lust for you.

You hear the door open behind you and turn to see Blake, adorably squinting from the sun.

“Early riser?” he gruffs, shutting the door behind him. You grin.

“You consider this early?” you say, checking your phone to see it’s almost 11:00. He chuckles.

Blake comes to stand beside you, leaning over the railing and looking at you with the same kind smile he was wearing last night in the hot tub.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks, his kind eyes softening with concern. “It wasn’t too cold?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, remembering how hot and flushed you were getting into bed after your time with Rafe last night. You wonder if he’ll tell Blake about your time together. And if Blake will care.

“No, I was fine,” you say.

“You sure you wanna leave today?” he asks, his tone sweet. The boys are going back to campus tomorrow, but you and your friends agreed to stay only until this afternoon.

“Yeah,” you say. “Don’t you bros have to bond or something?”

“Don’t tell them I said this, but I’ve bonded with them enough,” he jokes.

After everything you’ve learned about Blake over text and in person, you can tell he’s a good guy. You like the way he remembers things about you, the way he always looks at you like he missed you, the way he’s always polite to you.

Rafe walks into the empty kitchen and the first thing he sees is you and Blake through the window. You’re standing inches away from each other, leaning over the raised porch overlooking the lake.

His stomach turns when he sees you laugh at something Blake said.

“Dude, I’m fucking shattered,” one of his hungover buddies says, dragging his feet into the kitchen. Rafe thinks he is, too, and it’s not from drinking. He grabs some water and heads back upstairs to lie in bed.

You eventually go inside after Blake suggests making breakfast together. Your friends and a few frat guys are ambling around the main floor of the house as you make your way to the kitchen.

As you cook and talk, you find Blake takes every opportunity he can to innocently touch you in some way, unafraid to show you that he likes you. He’s affectionate, unlike Rafe, who stiffened the second you tried to hold his hand last night, who will only touch you right before or during sex.

After eating breakfast with Blake, your friends, and a few of the guys, you finally head upstairs to pack your things and head home.

You round the corner into the hallway and almost collide with another body. You look up to meet Rafe’s blue eyes, his expression sullen.

“Hey,” you say with a smile. “Wow, did you just wake up?”

“No,” he mutters. His lips thin as he steps to the side to walk past you, brushing you off.

You try not to let his moodiness get to you. It’s such a sharp contrast from how Blake treats you. You’re not expecting Rafe to be a sweetheart, but you thought at this point you sort of had a friendship.

You make your way to your room, reminding yourself of how he was the night you met. Rafe is a jerk, unless he’s working on convincing you to sleep with him.

Regardless, the sex is too good. You’ve actually been gaining confidence from hooking up with him. You tell yourself from now on to expect nothing but coldness from him.

Rafe tries to ignore the cloud hanging over his head after you leave the lakehouse. He hates that seeing you with Blake pissed him off so much. He hates that imagining Blake looking down at you the way Rafe did last night makes his blood boil.

A part of him wants to tell Blake you’re still hooking up to prove a point, but if Blake tells him that he did something with you, too, even a kiss, he might just swing at him.

Thankfully, Sam seems like he was too drunk to even remember Rafe asking for the key to the boat. He discreetly returns the key where Sam told him he could find it last night.

Rafe realizes he just needs to fuck another girl. He’s been messing around with you exclusively and that must be what’s been screwing with his mind. He scrolls through his phone and finds the number of a girl he met at a party during orientation week.

The next evening, you’re lying in bed watching a show on your laptop when you start to hear muffled moans. Your brows furrow as you try to make out what you’re hearing.

It’s a girl moaning. And it’s coming through the wall you and Rafe share.

Rafe’s on top of her in his bed, instructing her to be loud, not sure if it’s for his ego or just so you’ll hear. He did everything you taught him, touching her and talking to her how you said he should.

It’s all working and he can tell she’s close and it feels good, so why the fuck is he closing his eyes and imagining it’s you under him?

After she leaves, Rafe gives into the impulse to text you: my bad for the noise lol

You reply: all i can say is you’re welcome.

Rafe: ya you’re kind of a genius

You: i know :)

You try to focus on your tv show. Rafe said you’d keep your arrangement up until you’re both satisfied. He must be satisfied. Maybe the night on the boat was the last time.

You’ll miss it, but whatever. At least it’s ending before your mind has a chance to spiral any further into dangerous territory like it was this past weekend. That man has two settings designated for you: he’s either annoyed or horny. You’re convinced he feels nothing else.

The next day, it’s late afternoon when you get back to your dorm after your classes. As you get closer to your door, you can hear a man yelling. It’s loud. And vicious.

You sigh, wishing they didn’t cheap out on the insulation in this building.

You quickly realize it’s coming from Rafe’s room. Someone’s yelling and Rafe isn’t saying a single word back.

Rafe’s arms are crossed while his father shouts at him. He’s trying to hold it together, telling himself over and over again not to cry.

He got a little carried away with his credit card recently. He picked up the tab for food for his frat brothers quite a few times now. Splurged on beer. Had to pay to tank up his car for the weekend trip.

Apparently that makes him a disappointment who’s not taking school seriously. His father popped by for a surprise visit just to lay into him about his spending.

You quickly put your key in the lock and figure you should just put headphones on when you get in your room.

“Is that what I pay for, Rafe? For you to party? Do you even go to your classes?”

You swallow hard. It must be his dad. You don’t want to pry, but you’re surprised Rafe isn’t fighting back. The quick-tempered man you know always has a retort.

Maybe he hasn’t had as comfortable a life as you thought.

“If you can’t take it seriously-”

“I can,” Rafe finally says, his tone agitated but low. “I am taking it seriously.”

You swing open your door and step into your room, but when you hear his father say “what are you crying for?”, you feel your heart crack.

(part six)

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gojoux · 3 months

Text

『 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘 』

· Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader

· Summary: Gojo is absolutely enamoured by you, even from the smallest thing you do, he’s always there to compliment you.

· CW: 5.2k // Fluff. Slight hurt/comfort. A bit suggestive. Being Gojo’s girlfriend means having a whipped boyfriend.

When you’re training by yourself.

You took a deep breath as you adopted your fighting stance, feet spread shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands raised and ready. Focusing your cursed energy to enhance your physical prowess, you began your training regimen, flowing through the intricate movements you had practiced countless times before. Your body twisted and turned gracefully as you performed each strike and kick with perfect form, having honed your skills through years of diligent work.

Sweat dripped down your forehead as you moved through the rigorous routine, not allowing yourself to slow down. With each punch, you visualize an enemy being struck down. With each kick, you imagined yourself growing stronger and more agile. The exertion left your muscles burning, but you pushed through, determined to improve.

After finishing the last set, you finally allowed yourself a moment of rest, chest heaving as you caught your breath. A sense of satisfaction washed over you at having completed such an intense workout. You knew all that effort was making you a better sorcerer.

“Look at you go,” a whistle was heard behind you.

You turned to see Gojo walking up, an admiring grin on his face. Even with his eyes obscured, you could tell he was looking you over appreciatively.

“Thanks,” you said, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Just trying to stay in shape.”

“You kidding? You’re in incredible shape!” he said. “The way you moved was like watching poetry in motion.”

You smiled, flattered by his high praise, and happy to have your efforts recognized. As one of the strongest jujutsu sorcerers alive, compliments from Gojo meant a lot.

“I still have a long way to go before I’m anywhere near your level.”

“Of course,” he grins cheekily.

“But your dedication to training is really paying off, you know? Just look at how toned your arms are now,” he emphasized his point by gently grasping your arm, squeezing your bicep.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, swatting his hand away.

He laughed playfully. “What? I can’t help but admire my girlfriend’s incredible physique.”

You shook your head in amusement. Only Gojo would be shameless enough to fawn so openly over your body. But his compliments, as ridiculous as they were, filled you with motivation. Knowing he was watching and supporting your efforts spurred you to work even harder.

“Alright, lover boy, as much as I’d love to hear more about how attractive you find my sweaty post-workout look, I need to get cleaned up.”

“Need someone to wash your back?” he asked slyly, waggling his eyebrows.

You shot him a pointed look.

“Kidding, kidding,” he said, raising his hands.

You gathered your things and started heading towards the showers. As expected, Gojo fell into step beside you, seemingly not done singing your praises yet.

“In all seriousness, you’re really good. I mean it,” he continued earnestly.

Warmth rushed through you with his heartfelt words. “Thank you, I appreciate that,” you said sincerely. “But honestly, it’s not anything extraordinary, stop complimenting me too much over that.”

“Heh, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he replied. “My girlfriend’s a total badass who’s only getting more incredible every day. What can I say, I’ve got an eye for talent,” he added with a cocky wink.

You laughed, giving him a light shove. “You’re too much.”

“And you love it,” he retorted, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

You leaned into him, smiling up at his handsome face. “Yeah, I really do.”

When you’re on your mission.

The dark alley was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the cramped passageway. Your footsteps were light and cautious as you scanned the area, senses on high alert. You were tracking a cursed spirit that had been terrorizing this neighborhood, attacking innocent civilians.

As a jujutsu sorcerer, it was your duty to stop threats like this.

Up ahead, you spotted your target—a grotesque, hulking creature with twisted features and elongated claws. It had a young woman pinned against the alley wall, ready to strike. With no time to lose, you leaped into action.

“Hey! Over here, ugly!” you shouted, firing off a blast of cursed energy to get its attention. The creature turned with an angry roar as you placed yourself between it and the cowering woman. Adopting a fighting stance, you are prepared to take it head-on.

The cursed spirit charged, swiping at you with ruthless force. But you were ready. With agile movements, you dodged and weaved, avoiding its attacks while looking for an opening. When you saw your chance, you struck—aiming your cursed technique at its chest sending it stumbling back.

Not letting up, you pressed your assault, pummeling the creature with your attacks. It tried to fight back but was no match for your superior speed and skill. With a final, devastating blow, you landed the finishing move, obliterating the cursed spirit in an explosion of energy.

Panting, you turned to check on the woman you had rescued. “Are you alright?” you asked gently to calm her down.

She stared at you with gratitude. “Th-thank you! You saved me!”

You smiled warmly, helping her to her feet. “Just doing my job. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

After escorting her from the alley, you headed off to report your completed mission, satisfied at having eliminated the threat and protected an innocent life.

As you walked, a familiar voice suddenly spoke up behind you.

“Great moves back there,” he grins, walking towards you with his hand in his pocket. Looks like he got it easy on his task.

You turned to see Gojo beaming at you proudly. “When I felt that burst of energy, I knew it had to be you kicking some cursed spirit booty. And I was right.”

You laughed at his dramatic phrasing. “All in a day’s work. I’m just glad I got there in time.”

“Let me guess, you finished earlier and spied on me ‘kicking cursed spirit’s booty’,” you crossed your arms playfully, earning a chuckle from him.

“Yeah, it was a good show.”

Gojo stepped closer, gazing down at you admiringly. “It’s also that compassion that makes you such an amazing sorcerer,” he said. “You’re always focused on protecting people, even at great risk to yourself.”

His tone turned a bit calmer. “Watching you throw yourself in harm’s way like that… it scares me sometimes.” He gently caressed your cheek. “But it’s also one of the things I love most about you. Your drive to help others.”

You placed your hand over his, touched by his heartfelt words. “I’ll always do whatever it takes to keep people safe. I just have to.”

He smiled. “I know. And you do it with such skill too. The way you took down that cursed spirit was awesome. Your technique control has gotten better.”

“High praise coming from the strongest sorcerer around.”

“I’m just being honest here. You would’ve given me a run for my money, I bet."

You quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Care to put your money where your mouth is and take me on sometime?” you challenged playfully.

A devious grin crossed his face. “Is that a date? You know I love any excuse to get handsy with you.”

You laughed, giving him a light shove. Even after a tiring day, he could always lift your spirits.

“Maybe later,” you said, taking his hand. “For now, how about lunch? Fighting cursed spirits really works up an appetite.”

“It’s a date then!” he instantly entwined his fingers with yours. As you walked off together, he added, “You take my breath away, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly. “Aww, aren’t you my own personal hype man?” you teased.

“Always!” he declared with his usual wide grin.

When you’re dressed up for a date.

“Satoru, can you come here for a second?” you called out from your bedroom.

“Be right there!” Came the reply, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Gojo stepped into the doorway, a signature grin on his face. “What’s up?”

You turned to him with a shy smile. “I just finished getting ready for our date tonight. Wanted to get your opinion on the outfit before we head out.”

It was your anniversary, and Gojo was taking you somewhere nice. You had agonized over what to wear, trying on ten different dresses before finally settling on the dress you’re wearing right now with delicate jewelry and heels to complete the elegant look.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up above his glasses as he took in your appearance. “Wow…” he breathed, staring openly. “You look… beautiful.”

Your face heats up at his praise. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely stunning,” he affirmed, moving closer. His hands came to rest on your waist, head tilting as if to see you better from all angles. “This dress is perfect on you. It hugs your body just right.”

One hand slid sensuously down your side to emphasize his point. You hold his hand still with flushed laughter. “Down. boy. Keep it PG for now,” you chided playfully.

He held up his hands in acquiescence, though the desire in his gaze was palpable. “PG. Got it. I’m just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend’s breathtaking beauty.”

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but his compliments made your heart flutter.

“The way the fabric drapes over your body…” he continued to admire you, “It’s like each detail was designed to accentuate your natural assets.” His voice dropped an octave. “Truly mouthwatering.”

“Satoru!” You swat his chest this time from embarrassment.

He grinned unrepentantly. “What? Can you blame me for being so captivated by you? You’re a vision right now. I’ve got the hottest date in town tonight, that’s for sure.”

You smiled, mollified by his sincerity beneath the teasing remarks. No one could make you feel as special and desired as Gojo.

“Think you can control yourself through dinner at least?” You asked archly.

He laughed. “I make no promises. But I’ll do my best to keep public groping to a minimum,” he replied with a wink.

Taking your hand, he led you downstairs and out the door, ever the gentleman. As you slid into the car though, his composure momentarily slipped.

“You look unbelievable in that dress,” he blurted, eyeing you up and down. “The things I want to do…”

He trailed off with an exaggerated groan. You dissolved into laughter, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. Only Gojo could be so simultaneously sweet and shameless.

Dinner was an intimate, romantic affair. Gojo was on his best behavior, focused entirely on you. His compliments came often, praising everything from your smile to your witty banter. By dessert, you were practically glowing under his constant stream of adoration.

“Have I mentioned how stunning you look tonight?” He murmured, grazing his thumb over your knuckles. “Because you are dazzling, baby. I’m the luckiest guy here.”

You bite your lip, smile stretching wide. No matter how many times he said it, those words never got old.

The ride home was charged with anticipation. Gojo’s hands, so well behaved earlier, now roamed your body eagerly. Your pulse quickened as desire ignited.

Once inside, his control broke entirely. You found yourself pressed against the foyer wall, his mouth hot on your throat.

“I’ve been dying to get my hands on you all night,” he rasped into your skin. “This dress should be illegal… even the way you walk in it got me feeling hazy.”

You sighed blissfully as his lips and hands explored. When Gojo wanted you, he made sure you felt cherished, beautiful, and desired. It was intoxicating.

Later, lying enveloped in his arms, he nuzzled into your hair. “Have I mentioned you look sexy as hell in that dress?”

“Only about a hundred times tonight.”

“Well let’s make it a hundred and one,” he replied, rolling you beneath him to properly worship every tantalizing detail.

No matter the occasion, Gojo never failed to make you feel like a goddess. His passion and praise knew no bounds.

When you failed your mission.

The cursed spirit’s claws tore through flesh and bone before you could react. The young boy’s scream pierced the air, then suddenly went silent as his broken body hit the ground. Shock rooted you in place for a critical moment before rage took over. With a cry, you unleashed the full force of your power, obliterating the cursed spirit in an instant.

But it was too late. The child was gone, his sightless eyes accusing you of failure. Sinking to your knees, anguish crashed through you in waves. You were supposed to protect him. Instead, your hesitation had cost an innocent life.

By the time Gojo arrived, you were numb with grief. He assessed the situation swiftly before kneeling and enveloping you in his arms. You collapsed against his chest, finally releasing the tears you had been holding back.

He didn’t speak, just held you close and let you cry. There was no judgment in his embrace, only compassion. So you wept bitterly for the life lost, for your mistake, for the cruelty of this world.

When the torrent finally passed, Gojo gently wiped the moisture from your cheeks. “Talk to me,” he said simply.

Haltingly, you explained what happened. The guilt was a crushing weight on your heart.

“I should have been faster. I could have saved him,” you choked out.

Gojo gripped your shoulders. “Listen to me. This was not your fault.” His voice brooked no argument. “You didn’t hesitate from incompetence or cowardice. It was empathy. You saw a scared child and your first instinct was to protect, not attack. That compassion is what makes you an amazing sorcerer.”

You shook your head bitterly. “A lot of good it did him.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Gojo said sadly. “As much as we try, we can’t prevent every tragedy. What matters is that you care so deeply, that you refuse to harden your heart, even when it hurts this much.”

You wanted to believe him, but the stench of blood was thick in the air, a constant reminder of your failure.

Sensing your doubt, Gojo took your hands in his. “You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. Don’t let this make you afraid to keep caring. There are so many people out there who need that compassion.”

He tilted your chin up to meet your eyes. “This pain… means your humanity is still intact. That’s something to be proud of.”

A sob caught in your throat as you clutched his uniform jacket, anchoring yourself in his steadfast strength. The grief was still raw and raging, but his words lit a faint glow in the dark. Not of absolution, but of hope. That you could keep fighting and caring, without losing yourself.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. “You’ll get through this. I’m here for you.”

The next few days were filled with more tears, self-doubt and sleepless nights. But Gojo remained your constant companion, providing reassurance when the shadows loomed.

His praise never wavered. Each time you began slipping back into despair, he was there with an uplifting word.

Slowly, the light began to return to your eyes. Gojo’s unrelenting positivity and belief in you provided a lifeline to cling to. He reminded you of your own strength, even when you doubted it.

Not long after that day, Gojo took you out to dinner. Upon returning home, he presented you with a single white lily.

“This is to honor that boy’s memory,” he explained. “But also to show you that beautiful things can still grow, even from tragic circumstances.”

You accepted the flower, eyes stinging with bittersweet tears. Looking up at Gojo, you found no trace of pity there, only love.

“Thank you,” you whispered, for this gesture, and for everything he had done to see you through the darkness.

He kissed your forehead tenderly. “You never have to go through anything alone. I’m always here.”

Clutching the lily close, you rested your head against Gojo’s heart.

When you’re happy.

You stared down at the official letter, reading the words over and over. You have been chosen by a revered sorcerer in Hokkaido for a mission that requires your skill. Better yet, you have always admired this sorcerer.

One in a million opportunity. It makes you feel special to have someone notice you to the point they requested for you because they need your skill. Just maybe, you’d have the opportunity to be trained by that sorcerer to improve yourself.

Hands shaking, you looked up at Gojo, seeing his face lit up with a brilliant smile. In an instant, you were swept off your feet as he spun you joyfully around the room. You clung to him, dizzy with euphoria.

When he finally set you down, he cupped your face in his hands. “I’m such a proud boyfriend,” he said. “All that hard training paid off, huh?”

Happy tears pricked your eyes. Having Gojo’s wholehearted support and belief in your abilities meant everything.

You can’t help but pull him down into a fierce, grateful kiss. His arms immediately enveloped you, lips curving into a smile against your mouth. When you finally broke for air, foreheads touching, the depth of emotion in his gaze took your breath away.

In the weeks that followed, Gojo went out of his way to celebrate your accomplishment at every opportunity.

There were bouquet deliveries to your door, with notes reading:

“To the future best jujutsu sorcerer!”

Gifts would arrive filled with your favorite treats:

“For my hardworking girlfriend who deserves something sweet!”

Even when you were curled up on the sofa, just spending a quiet night, he would randomly take your hand and announce:

“I’m the luckiest guy alive to be with you.”

His little displays of pride and support never failed to make you smile. Gojo genuinely reveled in your success as if it were his own. Your joy brought him joy, a sentiment you fully reciprocated.

On the morning you were to start the intensive program, Gojo made you a lavish breakfast in bed. As you ate, he detailed an elaborate training regimen to prepare you for the challenges ahead.

“And I’ll be your personal sparring partner of course. Have to keep those combat skills razor sharp!” He grinned. “I won’t go easy on you just because you’re my girlfriend.”

You laughed. “I’d be insulted if you did.”

His expression turned serious then. Taking your hand, he met your eyes earnestly. “You’re going to do amazing things, I just know it. And I can’t wait to stand back and watch you shine.”

Emotion clogged your throat. No matter how far you go in this field, Gojo will always be your biggest supporter.

“As cheesy as it sounds... as long as you’re by my side, I know I can handle anything,” you told him with a rather bashful smile.

He smiled softly. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away.”

Leaning in, he kissed you sweetly. When he pulled back, his usual cocky smirk was firmly back in place.

“Now finish up. Time to go show off why you’re the badass jujutsu sorcerer they’re lucky to have!”

When you’re sick.

A violent cough wracked your body as you huddled under the blankets, trying in vain to get warm. Your head was pounding, your throat raw, and your limbs heavy with fatigue. The flu had hit you hard and fast, leaving you miserable and bedridden.

A light knock at the door heralded Gojo’s arrival. He poked his head in, his usual playful grin replaced by a look of concern.

“How’s my girl doing?” he asked gently, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You offered a weak smile. “Been better,” you croaked out before dissolving into another coughing fit.

Gojo rubbed your back soothingly until the spasms passed. “Sounds nasty. Let me get you some water.”

He returned swiftly, helping prop you up to take small sips. The liquid soothed your inflamed throat but did little for the chills wracking your body.

Noticing your shivers, Gojo piled on more blankets and slid in behind you, pulling you close. The warmth of his body enveloped you, finally easing some of the shudders. You sank gratefully into his embrace.

“There we go, just rest,” he murmured, one hand gently stroking your hair. You sighed, comforted by his presence.

Gojo wasn't usually one for tender quiet moments. His boundless energy and shameless mouth tended to dominate any interaction. But now, he was the picture of care and concern—keeping his touch light, his voice quiet and soothing.

You were moved by this rare glimpse of his gentle side. Having someone see you like this—sweaty, sick and pathetic—would normally make you self-conscious. But with Gojo, you felt safe letting your guard down completely.

“Sorry you have to see me like this,” you mumbled.

He tilted your chin up. “Nonsense. You’re beautiful no matter what.” His thumb lightly caressed your cheek. “I’m glad you’re comfortable enough around me to be vulnerable.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and not from the fever. Even wrecked by illness, he could still make you feel cherished.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you whispered.

He grinned. “I ask myself that every day.” Dipping his head, he placed a feather-light kiss on your forehead. “Now, hush. No more talking, just rest.”

You settled against him once more, lulled by the steady rhythm of his heart. Time passed in a haze of fitful sleep and coughing fits, but Gojo stayed dutifully by your side.

When the chills returned, he bundled you uptight, acting as your own personal furnace. He patiently fed you soup and medicine, made sure you were hydrated, and kept the tissues handy.

True to form, he also kept up a constant stream of praise and encouragement.

“There’s my tough girl, fighting this nasty bug off.”

“Even under all those blankets, you’re still the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Look at you powering through these coughs like a champ!”

His little comments never failed to make you smile. Only Gojo could find something positive even in your current state.

After two days of attentive care, your fever finally broke. The aches and fatigue gradually receded until you were able to sit up without assistance.

Gojo beamed at you. “There she is! Knew you could kick this flu’s butt.”

Taking your hand, he pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles, and his eyes shone with affection. “I’m so proud of you for pushing through this. You’re strong.”

“I wouldn’t have made it without you.”

He waved it off. “I just gave you a nudge. You did all the hard work.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he gazed at you earnestly. “Never doubt your strength, or hide your struggles from me, okay? Ask me anything, I’ll give them all to you.”

You nodded, heart brimming with love for this man.

When you’re annoyed at him.

“Satoru, I swear if you don’t stop messing around I’m going to—argh!” you yelled in exasperation.

The infuriating man just laughed, dancing easily out of your reach as you swiped at him. He had been pestering you all morning with juvenile pranks and teasing remarks, fraying your last nerve.

“Aww, is someone a wittle gwumpy today?” he taunted in a baby voice.

You saw red. Lunging forward, you tackled him to the ground. Caught off guard for once, he landed hard on his back with a grunt. You pinned him in place with your body weight, glaring down at him.

“Call me grumpy one more time and I’ll show you just how nasty my mood is,” you growled.

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

“Well, damn, baby. I love it when you get feisty with me,” he purred. His hands came up to grip your hips suggestively.

You swatted them away in irritation. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m still mad at you.”

Rolling off him, you crossed your arms with a huff. Gojo sat up, smile fading.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for riling you up too much,” he grins. “Didn’t realize you were actually that annoyed with me.”

Your anger deflated at the apology. He may act like a brat sometimes, but Gojo is always quick to make amends when he crosses a line—well, only for you, at least. (Don’t tell Geto and Utahime about this!)

With a sigh, you uncrossed your arms. “It’s fine. I overreacted too.” Glancing over at him sheepishly, you added, “And I know I’ve been… prickly lately. The stress has just put me in a bad mood.”

Between juggling studying, missions, and training, you had been spread thin. Gojo’s antics had been the last straw.

He scooted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for. I should’ve realized you needed me to dial it down and help you decompress.”

Leaning into him, you gave a tired smile. “Well, tackling you did feel pretty therapeutic, actually.”

Gojo’s laughter rumbled against you. “See? Violence solves everything!” he joked, squeezing you playfully.

You push his chest slightly, but couldn’t help chuckling too. Only Gojo could vex you one minute and make you laugh the next.

He pressed a conciliatory kiss to your temple. “Tell you what, why don’t you go take a nice long bath to relax while I make us dinner?”

The offer was extremely tempting after the high-stress week you’d had.

“That does sound really nice,” you admitted. “But you don’t have to cook, I’m sure I could throw something—”

He held up a hand. “Nope, you just focus on unwinding. Doctor Gojo’s orders.”

The mental image of him in a doctor’s coat and nothing else briefly distracted you. At your silence, he grinned knowingly. “I’ll take that as an agreement to my plan.”

Rolling your eyes, you stood and stretched. “Fine, you win this round.”

“I always do,” he retorted cockily.

True to his word, Gojo prepared a delicious meal while you soaked in the tub. The aromas wafting in from the kitchen made your stomach rumble eagerly.

By the time you made it downstairs, the table was set with your favorites. Gojo greeted you with a flourishing bow.

“For the lovely lady, a feast fit for a queen.”

You laughed at his antics, touched by the effort. Over dinner he kept the conversation light, making you laugh recounting silly stories. For the first time all week, you felt your tension finally easing.

Later, as you lounged together on the couch, Gojo spoke up softly. “Feeling more relaxed now?”

You nodded, snuggling closer. “Definitely. Thank you for all this, it was just what I needed.”

Strong arms wrapped securely around you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, no matter what.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Even when you get grumpy and violent with me,” he added teasingly.

You groaned. “Ugh, I’m sorry for tackling you like that.��

“What do you mean? I loved it,” he said, weirdly eager about it. “Seeing you all fired up and feisty was incredibly hot.”

“You’re so weird.”

“You know you love me,” he shot back smugly.

Rolling your eyes, you stretched up to kiss him. “Hmm, you’re right.”

He just loves everything about you.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

Gojo’s voice boomed across the crowded hall, quieting the others in this luxurious restaurant he took you on a date with after high school graduation.

“Thank you. Now I know speeches aren’t usually allowed during meals, but I convinced the manager here to let me have the floor for a few minutes.” He flashed his most charming grin. “After all, it’s not every day a man gets to proudly proclaim the love of his life to a crowd.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as he pulled you up to stand up with him. Taking both your hands, he continued earnestly.

“This person right here is the most incredible human being I’ve ever met. Smart, strong, kind-hearted, and breathtakingly beautiful.”

Murmurs spread through the hall listening raptly. You felt your cheeks grow warm at the public praise. Trust Gojo to be so shamelessly romantic.

He went on, tone utterly sincere beneath the dramatics. “Her passion for helping others inspires me daily. The way she fights with skill and compassion in equal measure is a marvel to watch.”

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a folded piece of paper. “I could spend hours listing all the reasons she amazes me, which is why I wrote it down.” Winking, he unfurled the lengthy scroll with a flourish, clearing his throat.

“Ahem… ‘The top 100 things I love about my girlfriend, revised edition’. Reason one…”

Your jaw dropped as he proceeded to read the entire list out loud to the captive audience.

It was mortifying. It was ridiculous.

It was so utterly Gojo.

As he extolled your praises, you buried your flaming face in his shoulder. “You’re crazy, you know that?” you mumbled against his suit.

He just chuckled and kept reading. “Reason 37, The way she scrunches her nose at me when I tell a bad joke…”

Despite your embarrassment, warmth blossomed in your chest. Trust Gojo to turn a simple dinner into a grand spectacle of devotion.

When he finally finished, he rolled up the scroll with a flourish and grinned down at you. “Of course, the list could go on forever. But I think I’ve sufficiently made my point.”

Cupping your face in his hands, he said loud enough for all to hear, “You are the love of my life. My soulmate. My one and only.” Then he brought his lips to yours in a fiercely passionate kiss.

Catcalls and applause erupted from the watching audience you (and him) don’t even know. But you were deaf to it all, lost in Gojo’s embrace.

When you broke for air, faces still inches apart, he murmured, “I’ll spend every day finding new reasons to love you.”

Emotion clogged your throat. You had gotten used to his easy affection and endless praise over the time. But this loud, public proclamation was on another level entirely.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your feelings laid as bare as his.

Ignoring the continued hoots and chatter around you, Gojo lifted you effortlessly in his arms.

“Now then, I believe we have some private celebrating to do,” he purred suggestively in your ear.

“You’re terrible. What am I going to do with you?” You laugh in happiness.

“I can think of a few ideas,” he replied with a sly wink.

As he carried you out of the hall, you shook your head in amusement. Life with Gojo was never boring, that was for sure.

In between chaotic battles and daily life responsibilities, your relationship has grown into something truly profound. A partnership built on unwavering trust, passion, and laughter.

Gojo adored you loudly and unapologetically, just as you loved him.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

Also writing this as a practice dump for my upcoming English creative writing competition lol

1K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

i'm obsesseeeed with dr. rem and i have a request for him if you're up for it!! <33 maybe reader gets into an "accident" (nothing serious) while working and remus finds out when he sees her in the hospital? like she didn't have time to call him and let him know so he suddenly just sees her and freaks out for a bit before realizing she's okay? thank you so muchhhh 💗

I'm obsessed with him toooo it's bad ! Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3

cw: minor head injury

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Your eyes water, but you do your best to keep them open as the girl in scrubs points her light in each one.

“Your pupils look alright,” she decides, clicking the light off and giving you an apologetic smile when you blink in relief. “Have you felt nauseous at any point since it’s happened? Dizzy?”

You shake your head no to both, wincing a bit as the clear bag of ice you’re holding to the back shifts slightly.

“That’s good.” She nods encouragingly. She seems young and somewhat green, probably one of those pesky residents Remus is always griping about. Though she’s trying to project the same seasoned calm as the other doctors and nurses moving about the A&E, there’s a quiet anxiety about her that you recognize. It’s the same one you carried during the first month at your job, the possibility of getting in some kind of trouble seeming to loom over you constantly. She’s pretty, you think, and she seems nice. Like she genuinely cares, a massive improvement over the woman at the front desk who’d given you a look so judgemental that it’d made you feel even more embarrassed for being here. “And you’re sure you didn’t lose consciousness at any point? Even for a second?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. “I mean, I would have noticed, right?”

She squints like she’s not quite sure what to do with that, and then you perk up as a familiar rhythm gets your attention. You wouldn’t have guessed you could do it outside of your shared flat, but you pick out the sound of Remus’ footfalls a second before he comes into view. He’s striding briskly across the room, skimming something on his clipboard, and he gives the swath of curtained rooms little more than a cursory glance as he passes—until his eyes flare, snagging on you.

You raise your hand in a sorry wave.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, doubling his pace to get to you. His attention moves to the bag of ice you’re holding to your head. “You’re hurt?”

“I bumped my head at work,” you explain with a shrug. The resident looks between you like she’s unsure if she should continue, clearly outranked by the other doctor in your little room. “It’s not bad, but my boss said I had to come here.”

Remus’ lips tug downward, taking the ice from you and tilting your head so he can see it. “You hit your head and you didn’t call me?”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him. “My boss just made me come in as a formality. For liability reasons, you know?”

Remus remains uncomforted. He murmurs a quiet direction to the resident so the poor girl steps back from you. You shoot her an apologetic look as your boyfriend takes your head in both hands, prodding at the tender spot on the back. You wince, and he makes a very unprofessional cooing sound, stroking his thumb next to the nonexistent wound.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” Even his dubious tone is gentled for you, the pinch of his mouth more worried than vexed.

“It hurts,” you admit, “but only like any bruise would. It didn’t even break the skin, Rem, I’m totally fine.”

He looks at the resident. “Any symptoms of a concussion?”

“No,” the girl chirps nervously. You wonder that anyone could be nervous around Remus, but you suppose he is sort of like one of her bosses. “Pupils are normal, no dizziness or headaches, no reactions to light or noise, and no signs of confusion.”

He nods, still frowny. You think he could stand to show her some appreciation, but this may not be the time to bring it up. “Alright, you can go. I’ve got this one.”

“Thank you,” you say after her, and she flashes you a tiny smile before Remus eclipses your vision, taking your face in his hand.

“You were fully honest, right?” he asks you sternly. “Didn’t downplay anything?”

“I didn’t.” You summon your most placating tone, reaching up to wrap your fingers around his wrist. “I’m really fine.” You rub your thumb into his pulse point. “I’m sorry I didn’t call, everything was just moving so quickly. I wouldn’t have tried to keep it a secret or anything.”

Remus lets out a long exhale, leaning forward so that his nose rests on your forehead. “I know you wouldn’t,” he murmurs. “But do you have any idea how scary it is to see someone you love in A&E, where you work, when you thought they were just going about their day unharmed?”

Your heart contracts as the severity drains from his tone, replaced by a dull rawness. “I don’t.” You slide your touch up his arm to his bicep, squeezing gently. “I’m sorry. But I am unharmed, see? It’s all good.”

He grunts fondly, kissing your forehead as he straightens. “Who drove you here?”

“Marcus.” You’ll have to make your coworker some cookies or something as a thank-you gift, though you’re sure getting a half hour off work to chauffeur you here wasn’t an entirely unwelcome break.

“And where is he?”

“Back at work. He dropped me off.”

Remus brow puckers. “He left you here?”

“Well, it wasn’t like there was anything he could do,” you say, shrugging. You feel a bit sheepish, though you’re not sure why.

“Still.” His jaw ticks. “Okay, I get off in less than an hour. Do you think you can sit tight until then? I’ll have someone bring you some fresh ice.” He levels your sloshy bag of ice with a disapproving look you want nothing to do with. “And did you eat lunch before your shift?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you say. “But I don’t need you to drive me home, Rem. There’s a bus stop right outside of here.”

He scoffs. “I don’t care if you don’t have a concussion, I’m not letting you take the bus after you’ve just hit your head.” He squeezes your shoulder, thumb pressing into your collarbone. “I’ll have someone bring you a snack.”

“It’s just a bump,” you argue, but Remus ignores you.

“Try to leave, and I’ll be very cross with you,” he threatens as he walks away. “Cuddles are a privilege that can be revoked.”

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 6 months

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lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art.

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.”

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #movie!mike #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's movie #abby schmidt #abby schmidt platonic #mike schmidt angst #hurt/comfort #josh hutcherson

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csuitebitches · 2 months

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On Becoming Better

A sign of positive change as you religiously follow your routine is this: your body automatically does the “habit” required in your routine.

it becomes a habit to clean up, instead of putting it off for later. it becomes a habit to pick up your book as you get into bed at night. it becomes a habit to eat a fruit in the mornings, and to do a simple 30 minute exercise.

you won’t feel like an “IT girl” at any point in the beginning. In fact, you might feel demotivated, lethargic, you might find yourself making excuses to not accomplish your daily goals. But the feeling of being put together, of feeling like you’re finally Her, comes as you consistently and diligently look after yourself. This will take time.

even if you’re practicing just being more social / feminine, that’ll take time. An example - I have these beautiful Jimmy Choo heels that are honestly, hell to walk in. I barely ever wore them and whenever I did, I felt like a chunky Godzilla monkey clanking down the stairs - I just didn’t feel ladylike. then one day, I came across this video of a lady showing exactly how one walks in heels. And boy, was that a game changer. I actually wrote her advice down and began practicing walking in heels every night, starting with a shorter heel height. in time, those heels have become one of the comfiest heels I own. I absolutely love them, and I get endless compliments. I began wearing kitten heels at work because somehow, they made me feel confident, yet feminine - and I felt a lot more put together than wearing flats.

Another example is using my Orai speaking app. It helps me so much with impromptu speaking! I love doing their little public speaking exercises. After two weeks of using it, I noticed a confidence boost in my presentation and talking skills, especially at work. I combined that with learning new words and I feel like my communication has improved significantly.

One last example is my Sweat app. I hate working out for more than 40 mins, I just can’t do it. I hate using crazy heavy weights too. With Sweat, I can workout for about 30 mins, select a fantastic low impact workout, feel amazing after, not be ridiculously sore the next day - and I’ve been seeing increased muscle definition. I was at a party the other day and whilst I was in the bathroom I suddenly noticed how toned my arms had gotten.

what this example shows is that taking little steps towards any goal you have - big or small - and practicing religiously helps a lot. And selecting the method that works for you. Lifting heavy weights works for some girls, not for me. My boyfriend keeps trying to “build” my workouts and I’ve flat out told him no, I’m doing it my way because it’s just what works for me.

do what works for you but do it consistently.

#ceo aesthetic #c suite #powerful woman #strong women #that girl #productivity #personal growth #balance #getting your life together

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prissygrlsorority · 1 year

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everything you need to make your own personal beauty binder 🎀

disclaimer: this post is heavily inspired by @tomb-of-ligeia and @daphne-dauphinoise, and early 2010s beauty youtubers. it’s always kind to credit your inspo <3

inspired by the lookbooks and makeup charts used by makeup artists designers at high fashion runways shows and childhood bratz coloring and activity books. the law of attraction is at use heavily with this binder (writing down goals and wishlists)!

you should be keeping diy recipes you find in here.

*you don’t need a physical binder. some people function better with digital mediums. i prefer anything physical and concrete. but you can do all this in something like a notion, or your notes app, etc.

why? 🎀

a cute girly hobby (esp for type A, anal retentive, or analytical personalities/extremely creative, hands on people) to keep track of your routines, motivate you to keep yourself maintained, and figure out what works best for you. it’s nothing too serious, just a girly pastime for people that maybe buy too many products, slip up on routines, or don’t what looks best on your features. have fun!

what to record in your binder? 🎀

an intro sheet 10 different topics divided by tabbed sections: your personal features, makeup, body, fashion, skincare, hair, fragrance, nails, treatments/procedures, salons/spas/referrals/contacts 🎀

intro sheet 🎀

here, you should keep your goals, desired look, and how you want to perceive yourself.

your personal features

a chart of your color season. mine is cool winter. you can use color season for whatever, i choose to apply it to my makeup.

your natural body shape. this will help you choose the best clothes to flatter your silhouette.

a close up, unfiltered clear photo of your bare face. note your skin type, color, undertone, and any other things that stand out to you.

note what you wanna enhance and what you wanna improve. this will help throughout your binder.

makeup

put on a light layer of every lipstick/lip gloss/etc. you have and make kiss shaped swatches in your binder. note the shade, brand, and finish. then the mood/occasion in which you’d wear it.

swatch all your lip liners, again leaving the details of the product.

swatch your foundation shades. note the finish, name and brand.

make a sheet dedicated to all your “holy grail”, essential products.

swatch your eyeshadow palettes. i have all my shimmer pigments swatches and it’s the prettiest thing to look at.

do you have any go to makeup looks? your casual look, going out look, no makeup makeup look, etc.? do these looks and take high quality pics. make personalized face charts by printing them out and noting the steps and products you used.

take c*nty pics of your lashes after trying on all your mascaras/falsies. note the effects and when you would be most likely to wear them.

print out any pics of interesting makeup looks and products you wanna try.

try on lip combos and kiss swatch them. i’m doing this because i do amazing lip combos all the time but i forget which products i used, and it’s hard to replicate the look.

body

take a stick figure-esque picture of yourself and print it out. any outfit you want to buy, print and clip it out first and see if it’s something you’d wear and actually like.

are you experiencing any skin issues on your body and trying any products? keep track of the issue and how the products are doing.

if you don’t already have one, brainstorm workout routines and general wellness/fitness goals.

what are your fav body products? what products did you buy, and hate? TRACK THEM!

any detoxes/diets you’re doing should be recorded in this section.

record “beauty enhancing” foods and drinks here. mine include matcha, lemon water and acv shots.

fashion

outfit planning! take pics of pieces you already have and clip them out. (i’m doing this currently and keeping them all in a little pocket in my binder).

make a moodboard of your personal style(s). how do you want your closet to look? try to see what details, colors, additions are consistent throughout. when shopping, these are what you should keep track of.

print out your signature clothing color palette if you want to have one.

dedicate a page to accessories you have/want, and how you’d style them.

*this can be expensive but the fashion girls will prob love this* go to the fabric store and buy little swatches that you like. take note of what the fabric is and why you like it.

dedicate a page to all your signature details. all the little specific things that scream YOU and NO ONE else! that means do not write pink, girly, etc. here. that is not exclusive to you, hun.

skincare

take a current filter free photo (make it glam! tie your hair up in a ballerina bun and put on some cute earrings) of the state of your skin. if your skin is perfect, i’m jealous and how does it feel to be god’s fav? if not what problems are you experiencing?

log your current skincare routines and how they’re working.

make a page for your skin type, how it feels when you wake up and how it feels and looks by the end of the day and research tips to deal with your personal skin type.

skincare wishlist! list any products you wanna try and what they are for. sample them from ulta or sephora if it’s possible.

dedicate a page to the skincare ingredients your skin loves the MOST! mine are retinol, bha, and vitamin c.

i have a page for all the extra cute little skincare devices i want. on it there’s a stainless steel gua sha, an ice pack, facial steamer, and pink foreo.

hair

what’s your hair type, density, porosity and curl pattern?

write down any hair goals you have. mine is frizz free tailbone length caramel brown hair with honey blonde highlights by the end of this year.

what’s your signature hairstyle? do you have a signature? brainstorm here.

clip out hairstyle inspo from pinterest and insta and try to recreate all the looks!

what are your fav hair products? i keep track of the best curling creams and leave in conditioners for my hair personally.

take note of any trending products you wanna try.

fragrance

make a moodboard of how you wanna smell. after this, research notes and how they work together.

now track your fav perfumes, your most complimented, etc.

note what fragrances go with what occasion and how they make you feel.

make your perfume wishlist! my fav part!

nails

swatch all your polishes. label them and their finish.

what’s your signature/go to nail look?

do you have any pics of your fav mani + pedis? print them out and write the details you loved the most.

write down your at home mani and pedi routine and it’s frequency.

write your fav colors and styles to wear on your nails. mine are glittery pink, pale pink, white, cream, french tip and pink frenchie. a hyper girly twist on the classics.

treatments/procedures

take note of any surgeries or procedures you want done and what they do.

anything you leave the house to have done regularly, keep track here.

don’t limit yourself! forget your budget! what are some high maintenance treatments you wanna experience? manifest it.

references

write down the sources of which you find great info for beauty and fashion

keep addresses of your fav salons and spas.

keep business contacts of your fav estheticians, stylists, nail techs, etc.

use my branding yourself guide to assist in your beauty binder! so much inspo and so many good resources! 🎀

#prissygrlsorority #my posts #beauty binder 🎀

3K notes · View notes

saintmuses · 3 months

Text

❝𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙖𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙨, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙨 𝙝𝙪𝙢 𝙖 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙣 𝙜𝙪𝙣 𝙡𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙗𝙮❞

Pairing:

Thomas Shelby x Advisor!Reader

Summary:

When Oswald Mosley flirted with Thomas’s political advisor, he could not hold back the green monster thus crossing the boundaries he had sworn was set in place between themselves for her sake.

Warning(s): Soft SMUT. Age gap (Reader in her mid-20s and Thomas in his early 40s). Spanking. Fingering. Major power imbalance. Thomas being sweet on Reader. Possessive!Thomas. Implied misogynistic only because of her job and obviously Oswald Mosley. Infidelity. Minors, dni! Note: I’m not well-versed in English politics in 1930s, and women during that time rarely had positions in politics especially as a career.

Word Count: 1.9k

Thomas Shelby’s gaze caught the figure sitting by the fireplace, his breath was caught in his lungs at the sight of her pretty presence in the armchair. However, he could tell she had her neck craning backwards laughing with a small smile painted on her face as she was speaking to someone in front of her.

He frowned, curiosity creeping through his veins as he wondered who was talking to her, making her laugh like that.

His teeth grounded as his jaw clamped together, the color of green rushed through his veins as the creature rattled in its cage of his mind when the figure stood up, stepping out of Y/N’s way as she stood up from the furniture as well.

Oswald fucking Mosley.

He stood under the alcove, waiting for her to make her way down the hallway. His ears prickled at the sounds of heels tapping against the granite floors, every footstep were increasingly louder as she neared the alcove.

He was mentally praising his luck for the separation of offices due to his position as a member of parliament. He could pretend to put a front in public; the one where he was not a backstreet gangster who grew up poor, a soldier who had to do things no one should ever have to do in the name of the war, the one where he was a politician, but he dropped all pretense once the door was close temporarily.

When she walked past him, unaware that he was waiting for her, his hand snapped forward, fingers enclosing her bicep gently before hauling her behind him as he stormed down the hallway. Barely paying any mind toward bystanders who were still lingering in the hallways.

He wanted to punish her, for breathing in Mosley’s direction, for giving him a very brief but sweet laugh, for even entertaining him despite the fact she did not like sleazy men like Mosley.

He just wanted to punish her for giving her time to someone else when her time belonged to him.

Even though they had not crossed the line other than innocent stolen moments, longing stares and little sweetheart comments that were not made to be condescending. To her he was Mister Shelby the member of parliament, but to him, she had become his everything.

Oswald made a mistake in bringing in a powerful force to improve the Labour Party campaign in order to gain votes, someone who would make him fall in love with her instantaneously.

She had left once after her goal was completed. He had tried to do the right thing by keeping her at distance, but he ended up offering her a position as his advisor in that hallway to hire her due to his selfish desire of keeping her close again. The emotions he felt at the idea of not seeing her again held a threat against his conscience.

Oswald was right that she could help save the political party, but she ended up more than saving it, she saved him by giving him air to breathe, to make him feel alive since Grace’s death

She saved him.

And he was not going to let someone like Oswald Mosley or anyone else take her away from him.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Mister Shelby?” She asked, nearly icily as she was trying to keep up with his pace as he stormed down the hallway towards his office.

He knew what she was doing when she called him by the government name along with the position in the rank, reminding him of their circumstances, despite being nearly unprofessional with her words.

“You,” his voice deeper than usual and harsh against the quiet hall. “You are my problem.”

She huffed impassionedly. “Mister-“

He interrupted, not allowing her to form a reprimand against him. “I have been very patient with you, Y/N-,” he spoke, abruptly turning to face her once they neared the door that led to his office. His icy eyes glinting with feral before it retreated. “You say I’m your superior, right?” He waited for her to nod at him. “You do what I say in terms of what I want, correct?” He asked with his gritted teeth. His eyes were blazing with fury, not thinking straight in his head as his emotions threatened to boil over.

Despite his inner turmoil, he pushed her gently to his office, turning to her after closing the ornate door, locking it with the key.

“Yes, but-“

He interrupted her grabbing her wrists with gentle strength, “then bend over the desk.” He maneuvered her towards the wooden furniture, clear of documents and little knick knacks.

A look of surprise flashed across her facial features. “Mis-” she started, but he did not let her finish.

“Bend. Over. The. Desk.” A growl rumbled in his throat as he glared down at her since he towered over her.

She stared at him, eyes wide.

He was going to make her acknowledge the connection between them. However, he will back off if she truly did not want this.

And Y/N would not do anything if she did not want to.

He swore on his father’s makeshift grave that he could see her lips trembling slightly as her eyes dilated in soft desire before turning away from him to face the desk. He inhaled slowly when she slowly bent her upper body over his desk, pressing her chest into the furniture with her palms placed flat on the dark wood above her, curling her fingers around the edge.

He breathed heavily as he looked at her, bent over the desk and obediently exposed, like a prize. As if he was in a trance, he reached out and dragged the hem of her skirt upwards until the sight of the curves of her flesh were revealed peeking out in her light-colored underwear, not without gliding his fingers across her smooth skin, making her tremble. He tucked the hem of the fabric into the waistband.

Fuck.

He could feel himself hardening in his trousers at the sight of her bare skin. His eyes flickered to her face. She was looking forward now, though he could still see the side of her face from his position. Her cheeks were flushed prettily.

He lifted his right hand, and he hit the right cheek with a loud crack in the silent of his office. Y/N’s body jolted forward beneath him at the contact with an unexpected, guttural moan.

Something inside of him snapped.

He was like a man possessed - he couldn’t stop, addicted to the way her soft, pliant flesh felt underneath his calloused palm. It was truly the first time he had touched her skin other than shaking her hand in Mosley’s office when she was introduced to him.

One coming right after the other, causing the flesh of her ass to reverberate from his palm.

After the last one was landed with a sharp heavy smack, he heard her letting out a grunt as her thighs shafted together in response to his aggressive ministrations.

Breathing heavily, “is that it?” She asked, turning her head back toward him with defiance glinting in her gaze.

Oh, she was challenging him. She looked delicious, all bent over with her skirt flipped over her waist.

His eyes narrowed at her, flicked his wrist to slap her fabric covered cunt, not too hard but still nice and sharp. His lips curled into a smirk when she whimpered in surprise, thighs clamping together.

It didn’t deter him as he eased her thighs apart slightly, pushing her underwear to the side, revealing her pretty cunt to his hungry gaze before sliding his index and middle fingers into her warmth. Roughly dragging his fingers back and forth in response to her own breathing patterns as moans and little whines emitted from her throat. “If I ever catch you allowing even so far as encouraging Mosley to flirt with you, I will kill him.” He did not give a fuck if Mosley was an important politician or not, he will find a way to put a bullet through Mosley’s body and bury him with some believable cover story about his unfortunate death.

Thomas removed his fingers, towering over her body slightly grinding his hardened cock into the curve of her ass, reaching around to her face and shoved his fingers into her pliant mouth. “You’re mine,” he growled, the words sounding more of a threat.

His other hand gripped her flesh when he felt her lips closing around his fingers and sucked them to clean her arousal off his skin.

She moved, pushing back at him while flipping her skirt back over her ass until he stood a step back to give her space when she turned to face him with a defiant expression on her face.

“Fuck off, Mister Shelby. I am not yours. I am not one of the whores you like to fuck.” She hissed, eyes flashing with anger.

He chuckled coldly, looking at her with disbelief in his eyes. “Sweetheart, you let me lay hands on your arse, but it’s crossing the line when I want to bend you over, fill you up with me cock while making you mine? Eh? Got that bit twisted.”

She glared at him with hostility in her pretty eyes. The ones he would see in his mind whenever he could sleep without the sounds of bloodshed from the Great War.

He sighed, raising his hands to cup her jaw, brushing the pad of his thumb against her cheek. “Trust me, I haven’t fucked anyone since I’ve first laid eyes on you. My only companion is my hand.”

“Not even your wife?”

He gazed down at her, sliding his thumb from her cheek to her lips, brushing against them softly.

“Not even her,” he said throatily after pulling his thumb away from her soft pliant lips. “I have been patient with you, willing for you to come to terms with your feelings that you and I fucking well know you have for me.” He said lowly, his fingers gripped her jaw slightly as a reflection of his statement. “You wanted to come back after shaping up the political party, accepting my job offer, despite knowing that I crave you in that hallway. You still walked back into this godforsaken place, and this is the consequences of our own actions.,” he whispered before using his hand, he grabbed her face, pulling her into a filthy kiss and she reciprocated in return with a whine, lips biting tongues tangling, battling for dominance.

He listened to every word she said to him, ignoring the harsh words from Arthur, his brother. Lizzie, his wife at this point in the name only. Michael and Polly who berated him every chance he got. Arthur. Polly. Lizzie. Linda. Michael. He ignored the words spewing from everyone filled with contempt despite following his words as if they were the law. Except her, her words were soft and firm if needed to be.

He did not care about anyone else, about what they want. Not while he was feeling this way for her.

He cared about what she wanted because her wants became his wants, and he knew that his wants were somewhat becoming her wants too

His wants were consuming his thoughts in the moment, his jealousy destroyed the control he had over his desires which brought them to the moment in his office.

“Say my name,” he murmured, a command etched in his words after he released her lips from his.

He heard her exhaling softly, her eyes were gazing into his. “Tommy.”

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #cillian murphy x reader #thomas shelby #cillian murphy

580 notes · View notes

cherry-leclerc · 3 months

Text

back to you ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, oldmoney!reader, strangers to lovers

word count: 3.1k

Fixated from the moment he first saw you, Carlos stays missing someone whom he never even properly met. But that all seems to change one night when you unexpectedly show up to a business dinner.

req!... i'm such a liar lmaooo (iykyk). hope you enjoy, my lil anons :) hope this heals some of the heartbreak we all endured today !!(*bashes head against keyboard*)

It almost seemed like you had something up your sleeve, a tactic to retrieve all of his attention away from the camera shoved right in front of him - media duties.

“Hello guys, just wanted to come on here to say that I think we gave it all we could during today’s race but there is definitely always room for improvement…” Blah, blah, blah.

He can’t quite figure out what he’s saying because his brown eyes are attached to the pretty girl walking right in front of him. Not behind him, trying to catch up. Not besides him, begging for a photo. Nope, right in front of him as if you could care less that you have one of the most popular drivers to ever exist almost chasing after you.

He could hear you mumbling about God knows what to the girl walking besides you. The Spaniard feels like a total creep when it comes to him becoming more alert to possibly catch your name. As you were saying? The media team manager stares back expectantly once Carlos blanks out. Though it wasn’t that unusual.

The 29 year old flickers his gaze back to the camera and then back to where you were, only except, you’re gone. Out of sight and his heart stops for a nanosecond.

“Onto the next week. Vamos.”

“So then, you have your upcoming shoot for the new fireproofs, testing, stimulator - if we have time, interview at…”

Carlos tunes out as he blinks at the never ending list as if it were just another Monday. Charles nods attentively, though he also looks far too uninterested. They were exhausted.

“And dinner tonight to meet our new sponsors.”

“Another one?” Charles asks, a slight crack in voice as he tries to pretend he wasn’t at all annoyed. “We just had one last night.”

Maria musters up a stern look. “Yes, again. They’re a lovely family, so we want to impress them with two well-behaved drivers.” The Ferrari boys swallow their laughter as they nod their heads. Got it.

It takes all of Carlos’ remaining willpower to get ready for dinner that night. On the way to the small Italian restaurant, he second guesses even showing up. He could fake a fever. A sore throat. Shaking his head, he curses as he steps out of his custom Ferrari.

“Oh good, I thought it was just going to be me,” Charles jokes as soon as he spots the Spaniard. Carlos chuckles before greeting the team. About 10 minutes go by before the Monegasque grows impatient as a child. I could have finished watching my movie.

“Shut up,” Fred murmurs before abruptly standing up from his seat. “Ah! È così bello rivedere finalmente te e la tua famiglia!” Choking on his champagne, Charles scrunches his nose before flying up and introducing himself. Carlos bites back a smile as he follows his lead.

And there he sees you, standing elegantly with a silk dress that looks as soft as your skin. You’re smiling sweetly at everyone, stepping in to not just shake their hands, but also go in for a small hug. Your mother and father repeat the same action, though they later focus all of their attention on Fred and Maria.

The Monegasque kicks his teammate’s shin. Carlos winces as he shoots fiery daggers. “We hit the jackpot.”

“What?”

Charles' shoulders drop theatrically. “Are you kidding me? Are we looking at the same girl right now or are you just blind?”

But he did see you, and he never quite forgot about you since that day. He could feel the tips of his ear burn bright red as you made your way over to him and his teammate. Charles, so nice to meet you, the green eyed boy beams before going in for a hug. You smile from ear to ear.

“Nice to meet you, too! I must admit; I’m a little starstruck right now.” Charles blushes fast as he stutters his way around such a compliment, even if he’s received thousands of the same one before. “Ah, this is Carlos.”

“Hello,” he feels himself saying. “Carlos, nice to meet you.” As soon as you look up at him, his breath hitches and fears you might feel his sweaty palms flourishing against your soft ones. And if you do, you choose to ignore it as you share a small smile, the kind you share when you see someone after 15 years.

The kind that seems forced.

“Ditto.”

With one last glance, you excuse yourself before making your way over to where your parents and Fred chatter about upcoming plans. Carlos blinks. “Wow. No hug,” Charles points out. “That’s weird. She was basically giving them out for free.”

“Be quiet.”

The remainder of the night you kept to yourself, occasionally inputting your own opinion with a polite smile drawn onto your fruit punch lips. Very well mannered, Fred would approve as you would bow your head with shyness. Carlos quirked a brow of curiosity.

He wondered what he might’ve done wrong. Had he been too forward? Cold? Often, his parents would claim he could be like that sometimes, so maybe? He wasn’t clinging onto the fact that he was the only one who didn’t receive a warm greeting from you, but he was left with questions.

“E tu, tesoro?”

“What about me?” you repeat, hair fanning along your face like a shiny curtain. Maria chuckles. How do you feel about being a part of this new chapter? You think about it for a second before settling with the safest answer. “Very proud, there’s nothing better than tying links with such a superior team.” Fred roars with genuine laughter as he pats your father’s shoulder. Smart girl.

“Why fine jewelry?”

“Pardon?”

The inquiry was directed towards your parents - who would clearly have the answer - but his eyes were trained on you, leaving you to fend for yourself. Lips part slowly as you connect with Carlos’ intense attention. “I’m curious, that’s all. I’m delighted we have you as our sponsors, but I was just wondering what made you dive into the business? Must be hard.”

Squinting your eyes, you click your tongue. It’s in our blood, your father’s voice cuts your train of thought. It’s what we do, what we love. But his warm gaze sticks to you like hot glue. You clear your throat before returning to your wide smile.

“I think it’s safe to say that diamonds are beautiful. They are scarily so crystal clear that for a moment one might search for a trace of color. And then they do come in other colors, so it’s really no problem,” you say, soft chuckles circling the table. “But I believe it’s also safe to say that we don’t often think about how they got here, shining around many ring fingers.” Your mother approves as she shows her mind-blowing diamond cut.

“Miners are the answer. They work hard - get their hands dirty - because they know that while it may not be easy to find such precious things…” His eyes roam your lips before dancing back up to your orbs. “It’s very well worth it.” Taking a sip from your glass of wine, you raise a brow. “That’s why.”

“It doesn’t even feel that tough to wear these pieces,” Charles squeaks as he slips on a white gold bracelet around his wrist. “They’re breathtaking.”

Clapping, you squeal at his words. For a moment, Carlos thinks about punching his teammate for getting to see your good side. They’re great, thank you again. You just tip your head towards him to confirm you heard, and slide away. Carlos sighs.

“This is ridiculous. She can’t even look at me.” The Spaniard bites his cheek. “Do you think she hates me?”

“For doing what?” Charles asks, face pinched with confusion. Carlos huffs, arms flying up.

“I have no idea!”

“Well…I don’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

“No.” He groans. “Can you picture how awkward that would be? There’s no way.”

“Suit yourself.”

Pouting, the brown eyed boy zigzags his way into the studio, mentally preparing himself for hours of blinding lights. “Buongiorno, Carlos!” Spotting your father with his arms wrapped around his wife, he walks over with a tired smile. How are you guys? “We’re fine, son, thank you for asking. Tell me, are you excited for this weekend?” He instantly stands up straighter.

“I am. The Tifosi are always great to be around. Gets hectic, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I can imagine. My wife and daughter are always amped up when it’s finally Monza’s turn.” He hums, almost as if he’s reminiscing. “Tell you, my baby would beg for us to take her to cheer on her favorite drivers. It’s kind of a full circle moment so don’t mind if my wife gets emotional.”

“Stop,” your mother sniffles as she shares a grimace. Told you, your father mouths. Carlos laughs.

“I completely get it, it must mean a lot to all three of you. Maybe that’s what makes this partnership work all the more.” Your fathers winks, large fingers wagging over at the Spaniard. Working over time. I respect it.

“I see why my daughter likes you.”

Carlos halts. “Sorry?”

The older man pants, seeming comedically defeated. “Are you kidding me? She adores you! You've been her favorite driver since you joined Formula 1.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Her love towards the sport had a huge impact on us to join as sponsors, but to be fair, we probably still would have done it. Like I said, it holds a special place in our hearts.”

“Buongiorno,” your soft voice echoes, skipping happily to greet the Ferrari team. Everyone’s energy quickly picks up as you flow with such easiness, skirt wrapping around your waist, making you seem like the only flower in an empty garden. Talk to you in a bit, you cheer as you make your way up to your parents. You stop dead in your tracks as soon as you spot the grumpy brunette. Like always, he can physically see you create a wall around yourself, keeping you from him. He felt like the Beast drooling over the rose inside the glass. “Good morning, Carlos. Logo looks good,” you hum, dark red pedicure pointing at your last name printed onto his fireproof. “Can’t wait to see how it looks on Charles.”

His jaw ticks. “Why don’t I call him then?”

“That would be lovely.”

He’s jealous. Of course he fucking is. He might have found out your whole act is a facade but that didn’t stop him from feeling this way. He could have been your favorite at one point, but what about now? It sure as hell didn’t seem like it.

“She wants to see you.”

The Monegasque furrows his brows. Who? But as soon as he notices his teammates' sour face, he registers the reason for his bad mood. “Stop pouting. You look like you just sucked on a lemon.” Carlos shoots a deadpan expression. “This has gone too far. It’s obviously bothering you.”

“What? You nagging?”

“Okay, ouch.” The green eyed boy takes a small step towards the Spaniard. “You don’t like it that she’s ignoring you because you like her.”

Carlos jumps off the couch. “I do not!” Charles hums.

“Oh shit, good, then I could ask her out.” He beams. “I wouldn’t want things to get weird between us.” Carlos' heart almost jumps out of his chest as he grows nauseous at the thought of you saying yes. He continues. “I’m telling you; I have a good feeling.” The brown eyed boy clenches his jaw. “It’s like this - I could see myself marrying her, having a baby heiress-”

“Okay fine, I like her!” He pants. “She drives me so fucking crazy. Whether she looks my way or not, she makes my head spin. Ever since I saw her at the Canada GP, she’s been imprinted into my brain like a lecture I’ve been told over and over, time and time again. It makes me sick that she seems to almost get sad when she’s around me. The way she can never look at me the way I’ve always looked at her. And I’m…” He looks down at his race boots. “I’m too afraid of ruining something that I don’t even have a chance at.”

The Monegasque pats him on the shoulder, lips stretched out into a teasing smirk. “Now, was it that hard to admit your feelings?”

It was that hard to admit his feelings. He thought about it for the first time since he met you. Confess everything that’s been locked away deep inside of him; claim his feelings like some kind of gold medal. But then he saw you radiating pure perfection and he would turn the other way. You hated him, he’s sure.

“Alright Carlos, push, now push.”

He could taste it - sweet victory that he badly craved. If he played his cards right then he could get second place, which was pretty good in comparison to past results.

The Spaniard tries to not feel too upset about coming in third and waves up at the Tifosi who let out blood curdling screams. Pride rushes through his veins as he walks onto the podium, he didn’t even mind all the attention. Especially the kind you were gifting him with.

The way you smile so big that your perfect teeth shine up at him, eyes crinkling like a love letter. Cheekbones slightly pink from cheering so loud but also from the bright sun. He swore he was on some kind of drug.

Making his way back into the motorhome after all the interviews, he bumps into you and your parents. “Like it?” he asks as he displays his trophy.

“Definitely,” your father beams. “You deserve it, son, enjoy it.” After a few more affirmations, he and your mother walk away. Brown orbs find your own.

“Have fun?” He tries to ease his deep voice, to appear more outgoing, to not scare you away. And yet, you nod, looking down.

“He’s right. You totally deserve it.” And for what seems like the first time, you bless him with your warm stare. “Felicidades, Carlos.” Pink paints his cheeks. You speak Spanish? Your eyes grow wide as you feverishly shake your head. “I-I- I don’t, but I’ve picked up on a few things here and there…”

“From me.” He tilts his head. “You actually pay attention to me.”

You can’t help stutter like a broken record. “Of course-e, I ha-ave ears.” You show them off like a weak justification. “See?” you squeak. Playing with the hem of your dress - that had him swallowing a string of moans the moment you walked into the garage that morning - you slowly started backing away. “I should go now…” You point towards the sliding doors. “See you later?”

But he knew there would be no later. Fuck, this was the most you’ve spoken to him since, well, ever. He wouldn’t let that slip away so easily. Even if his heart got bruised along the way.

“Did I do something for you to hate me?”

Your brows narrow like a little kid. “You think I hate you?”

“It’s okay if you do, I suppose, but I’m just lost as to where that happened? Did I-”

“I don’t hate you,” you softly speak up, eyes shut in disbelief that you’ve made him feel that way. You blink back at him. “I promise you, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Okay, he confirms.

“Why can’t you talk to me then like you do with everybody else? Why can’t you even spare me a passing glance?”

His voice sounds desperate now, he knows it, but he was desperate. Now you were embarrassed that he continues to bring up more and more of your poor behavior - but it was never intentional. You twirl a strand of your hair before releasing it.

“You intimidate me.”

The Spaniard squeezed his fist around the trophy. For a moment, he thought he would dent the steel. Your stomach drops at the sight and he feels guilty for proving you right. He lets out a shaky breath.

“I’m not a bad guy, y’know? I’m sure it may seem like it, but…” He licks his lips. “I’m not.”

Doe eyes flutter like butterfly wings. “I believe you, Carlos.”

“Good. Now, would you please tell me why you always escape when I’m around?” You softly curse as you pinch your hand for a second.

“I wasn’t lying; you do intimidate me. But not in the way you might think.” Like an angel, you make your way closer. “You’re my favorite driver, you know that?” The Spaniard’s brown eyes grow wide. You laugh. “Ever since you-”

“Joined Formula 1.”

Your jaw drops. “My father ratted me out?” Panicking, you pace the room back and forth. You could only look at him for a couple of seconds before planting your stare at anywhere else that isn’t him. “I told him not to say anything! Oh God.” You let out a maniatic chuckle. “I swear it’s just a tiny crush, it’s not even that deep - I’ll get over it!”

Now it’s his turn to geek out. “You have a crush on me?” Crap, you groan, biting down on your nail. He didn’t mention that part, did he? Brown strands of hair shake back and forth as you sigh.

“Forget I said anything, I am so sorry for making things awkward-”

“I’ve seen you before.” What? The 29 year old winces. “At the Canada GP. You were walking with a friend.” Synthia, you whisper to yourself. “I was being filmed for feedback on the race and you were about 5 steps in front of me.” You counted? “I said about - and for months, you were all I could think about. You sort of stuck to me like a nostalgic scent. I don’t know why I felt the need to talk to you, I mean, it’s never happened to me before. I looked away for a second and you were gone.” He shares a lopsided smile. “Then I saw you again.”

“And I blocked you out.” You bite your lip. “Shit, Carlos…I had no idea you felt this way.” He shrugs.

“It’s my fault. I never told you.” Still, you try to reason but he only brushes you off. “It’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” you whimper. “I acted like a complete snob and belittled you.” Your heart breaks at the image. “And you’re telling me it’s been mutual all along?”

“Looks like it. This is good though.” How? The brunette winks as he pulls you in. “Because now we do know and I can take you out sometime?” You quirk a brow.

“It works just like that?”

He hums, comfortable with the two trophies pressed up against him. “Only if you want it to be like that.” You can practically hear your crazy heartbeat with the way he’s looking down at you - as if he’s just discovered a previously nonexisting star. With soft hands pressed onto his suit, your eyes twinkle.

“Just like that, then.”

853 notes · View notes

szasfuckingwife · 11 months

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SOUNDGASM

RICHBOY!EREN YEAGER x RICHGIRL!READER

WARNINGS: SMUT, Eren calls reader a slut and whore, swearing, Eren is a secret fuck boy, reader has she/her pronouns, no mention of reader’s appearance other than what she’s wearing

SYNOPSIS: Y/N is new to Marley, just moving a few months prior. Her parents are rich doctors and she wants to be a professional golfer. At the country club, Grisha Yeager introduces his son, Eren Yeager to her. As she teach him how to improve his golfing, Eren teaches her one or two new things..

A/N: it’s finally summer time, and this summer me and my friends are going golfing🤭 i hope i find my eren + soundgasm is such a summer song, reminds me of 2016 drake for some reason

It’s 1:25pm at the country club. The sun is shining, the grass was greener than the pockets of the people there. And, above all, a pretty brunette and a pretty blonde are in that field playing a good game of golf.

Eren has his club in hand, his eyes are on the ball. Noticing that he won’t get a good swing from that distance, he scoots himself back a few steps until he finally feels comfortable. His veiny hands latch onto the club a little tighter as he takes a deep breath.

“Are you gonna hit the ball or…?” Armin is tired of waiting. He’s been waiting for his best friend ever since kindergarten. Eren had to stay behind a grade? Armin was waiting. Eren had detention? Armin was waiting.

But waiting for his best friend to hit a stupid ball was so damn infuriating.

Suddenly, Eren’s club went sky high before he hit the ball, sending the white sphere flying over the sky. The green eyed boy whistled in satisfaction; he was getting better each day.

Eren turned to his friend with a smug look on his face, “See! You want perfection? Be patient.”

Armin rolled his eyes before the two heard the familiar voice of Grisha Yeager, Eren’s father and the CFO of a tech company.

“Boys! Get in, drinks are out!” He yelled, waving his hand to grab their attention but all they could see was the bling of his Rolex. “Oh, and son? Getting better!”

Eren smiled, flashing his pearly whites.

“Not better than me though.”

This was your first time at this country club since your parents moved states. Not only was it awkward as most of the girls your age played tennis instead of golf, but all the guys who played golf were…facially challenged.

“Sweetheart, smile.” Your mother spoke through gritted teeth. She had noticed your unusual (but expected) awkwardness even when you were driving to the club.

You looked at her before sighing deeply, “Everyone here is just…weird.”

“The girls play tennis. You know how to play, why don’t you join them?”

Oh yeah, join the girls that laughed when they saw my personalised club!

If anything, you wished your mother would stop trying to get you to have fun so much, because all it did was remind you how much fun you were missing out on back home. It was heartbreaking to say bye to genuine friends and say hello to well…the plastics.

“Y/N!”, You heard your father’s voice and instantly turned around to spot him. He waved you over, looking eager and excited.

“Why is he so happy? I’m scared..” You mutter at your mother. She laughs and pushed you to his direction.

You try not to draw as much attention to yourself as you walk despite your very loud father yelling your name. Upon arrival, you see Mr Yeager, your fathers new friend.

He’s also the man that prompted the idea to move states.

Your father enthusiastically put his arm over your shoulder, “This is my daughter, Y/N.”

You stick your hand out to shake Mr Yeager’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you sir.”

“Nice to meet you too. Your father tells me that you’re applying to U of M. What’s got you so interested in Marley?”

If you wanted to be frank, and boastful, you’d tell him that you didn’t apply but rather you got a scholarship. Whether it was nepotism because it was your dads alma matter or if it was your big brain and athleticism, it was the best offer you’ve gotten.

“I heard they do good Neurology courses. I wanted to go to university and well, to put it short, make sure I have a plan B.”, You reply, smiling sweetly at both your father and Mr Yeager.

Grisha nods in acknowledgment, giving you back the same smile, “What’s your plan A then?”

“Professional golf, of course.”

It sounds boring, but golf was one of those hobbies that just never went away. You remember when you were 9, going with your father to the golf course just to see what it was like. When your dad taught you how to hit the ball, you loved it.

As you grew older, hitting the golf ball became your outlet. Like that one time you imagined that it was your teachers head instead of the ball after she gave you a C in a test.

Where others prefer an ice rink or a race track, you prefer your club and the nice smell of freshly cut grass.

“Y/N reminds me of Jordan in ‘88 but instead of a basketball court, it’s a golf course.”, embarrassment filled your body as your dad bragged about you. All you could do was laugh at his strange comparison.

“Ah, my boy does some golf in his spare time. He’s not trying to go pro, I hope, but, he could definitely use some lessons from you if you’re that good. In fact…” He looks around, squinting his eyes. “Eren!”

Right then and there, you pray with every bone in your body that this ‘Eren’ wasn’t those boys you saw earlier. God knows what you’d do to avoid teaching them a single thing.

What came, however, was a surprise. And the surprise came in the form of a boy. Not too old, maybe nineteen. He wore navy shorts and an emerald green ralph lauren vest over a plain white tee.

His hair was gelled in a small bun in the back of head. You don’t mind though, since it gave you a better view of his chiselled jawline. You’re sure it could cut your mothers diamonds at home. His eyes were green. No brighter than the grass outside, no deeper than the vest he was dressed in but some odd mixture.

He’s hot, you thought.

Grisha out a firm hand on his sons shoulder as he introduced you and your father to him, “This is my second son, Eren. You’ve already met Zeke by the tennis court.”

As your father gets into another conversation about Zeke Yeager, all you can do is stare at the curve of his younger brother’s muscles. You wish that he lifted the sleeve of his t shirt ever so slightly-

“What’s your name?”

You looked at Eren, and he looked at you.

His smile was just so…genuine!

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled sweetly back at him.

After your fathers urged you to go outside, you find yourself next to Eren on the kart. He’s driving, riding across the beautiful field.

The sky is honey coloured, the sun slowly descends giving the lake a beautiful shimmer. You’d look at that view, but there’s already a good view next to you.

Eren finally stops the kart before exiting. The both of you get your equipment from the back of the kart and begin to play.

“So…uhh how do you like it here in Marley?” Eren says, grunting after he hits the ball. You stand there, semi criticising his swing, semi fawning over him. “It’s definitely different from Trost.”

You sigh, “Yeah, the air is a little different. And not too many people play golf here.”

Eren looks at you, chuckling whilst shaking his head a little, “Aren’t you glad you met me then?”

You have no idea how glad I am.

You stay silent, instead choosing to smile and getting ready to hit the ball. Eren whistles when he sees the height of your swing. “Where’d you learn how to hit like that?”

After a couple more swings (and misses from Eren), you guys sit in the kart.

“So, where are you applying for university?”, you ask looking up at him. He scoffs, taking a sip of his water.

“No clue. All these offers and all I really want to do is go to Malta ‘n relax.” You notice how careless his face is when he speaks. He must not care that much about his future.

I mean, his parents are rich enough that both him and his brother can live off them for as long as they want to.

You look down, not in embarrassment, but in awkwardness. It’s strange seeing parents not urge their kids to go to university like your parents and Trost parents do.

“What’s your plans?”

You explain how you want to become a pro at golf. Eren listens attentively but, he get’s distracted when the breeze washes over the both of you.

The hem of your sport skirts lift up ever so slightly and Eren’s heart begins to race. For the next few conversations, he can’t stay focused. I mean, he’s just seen the curve of your ass, who could?

As the conversations die down, you and Eren go back to playing golf. It’s Eren’s turn and if he’s lucky, he can get a hole in one. He does what he did earlier: pull his hips back slightly, legs apart, breathe and…

Eren swung and you swore you saw the ball fly into the stratosphere.

“Yeager, I didn’t know you were the athlete.” You chuckle, shocked that he was actually really good.

He shrugs, “I don’t try. I feel like it just comes naturally..”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to him, pointing the end of your personalised club at him, “Teach me?”

Eren licks his lips, trying to find the words to speak but, the look that you’re giving him makes him feel butterflies. “Yeah…come ‘ere..”

You begin with your starting position, y’know the position that has won you regional competitions and a 2nd place in national.

However, you hear Eren scoff. “Don’t know how you’ve been able to pull of holes in one with that position..”

Suddenly, you feel his breath on your neck as he moves your hand up slightly to your upper chest, brushing agains your boobs.

“I don’t want this to be awkward but can you move your hips back ever so slightly..?” Eren chuckles in embarrassment. You do as he says and move your hips back until you feel his crotch against you. “Now, practice your swing without the club…”

Eren was filled with glee as he felt your ass rub up against him while you practiced your swing. “Is this alright?”

“It’s perfect…So fuckin good..”

Your brows furrow and then you finally feel it. His hard cock almost bursting out of his shorts. You didn’t stop your movements, seeing the fun in making him more distracted. He was absolutely mesmerised seeing your ass go back ‘n forth on his crotch.

Suddenly, you stop, sighing with your lips tilted up into a smirk, “I feel like I’m ready now! Thanks for the hel-”

As soon as you tried to walk away, Eren pulled you back against him. You swore you heard his heart beating a thousand times per second, and his cock was still rock hard.

“I can show you a couple more tips.” He whispered in your ear, “Just gotta listen for me, yeah?”

You nod before Eren throws your club onto the ground and pulls you into the kart.

As soon as you both sneak into the lavish looking bathroom, his lips are on yours. Hungrily making out with you, not giving you a chance to breathe. He gingerly moves you against the wall, giving you more breathless kisses.

He feverishly pulls up your lilac polo top, exposing your stomach and sports bra. Nothing comes to mind as he starts to plant wet kisses along your collarbone.

You try to fondle with his dick through his shorts but Eren wouldn’t let you, deciding he wants to make you feel good before he does.

He sits you on the white, pristine counter, pulling off your shorts in the process. “Fuck, you’re so hot…”, he says in a shushed tone. You can’t help but moan when you feel his hands on you, especially when he begins to rub your clit under your panties.

He starts of slow, achingly slow. All you want is for him to ruin you, rough and hard. But Eren is a tease, he wants you to beg for him.

And, he won’t stop till you do.

Eren feels your slick on his fingers and begins to chuckle. You look so cute like this: a whimpering mess, bucking your hips against his hand. He smirks when he hears you mew small ‘Please, Eren’s and ‘it feels s’ good!’s

“You’re such a pretty girl, huh? You’re doing so- ha- so good for me.” He grins. You see him lower himself, peeling of your panties so he’s at face level with your wet pussy. “What do you want, baby?”

You looked at him with jaded eyes, “I wanna cum..”

He shakes his head, tutting. He looked so different to that sweet boy who cheered you on at the golf course. “Manners, princess. What do you want?”

As he repeats his question, he slides a finger inside you. You moan and it sounds like beautiful to the brunette. You try to regain your voice as he stares into your eyes, blankly as if he was bored.

“I want you to make me cum, please.”

He chuckles again before letting his lips meet with your pussy. Eren takes his time with you, you’re not one of those valley girls that he’s fucked dumb in the past.

You’re different, so why should he treat you like them?

Nothing could be heard in the bathroom but your moans and the sound of your wetness against Eren’s mouth. He lapped his tongue at your clit whilst he continued to fuck you with his fingers, smiling against your sex when your fingers rip through his locks.

“Taste…so good, Y/N…” He muttered. You were so so close, wanting nothing more but to make a mess all over his mouth. Eren knows, he can feel you tightening up. “Gonna cum?”

You nod quickly but just then, he stops.

“Eren-” “Shhh, turn around, show me that ass..”

You do as he says, bending over the desks as he marvels at the curve of your ass behind you. You feel Eren strike your flesh a couple of times in awe before he slides his huge dick inside you.

He groans beside your ear as he hears you gasp, “Oh my fuckk…”

Every stroke feels like he was going deeper, kissing your cervix. His hands traveled to your chest as he lifted the bra revealing your perfect tits. You moan louder as he pounces on your neck again, kissing and biting you whilst his fingers were busy playing with your boobs.

“You knew what you were doing when I was teaching you how to swing, hm?” He chuckles. When he sees you nod, Eren slaps your ass again. “Words.”

“Yes!” you cry.

“You knew that it’d end up with you like this, right? You wanted this.” He asks, earning another ‘yes’ in response. “None of your boyfriends at Trost fucked you like this.”

“N-no! No, they didn’t! Fuck!” You moan. He tilts your head so you can look at the mirror and you finally see Eren, topless. You don’t know when he took of his top, and you were too fucked out to realise. “Shit, you’re so deep in me..”

He smiles at your comment, slapping your ass once more, “I know, sweetheart. Look at you. You pretend to- fuck- be a good girl in front of everyone but now look at you.”

You feel his hand wrapped around your throat as he pulls you back. Eren’s cheek is against yours as you both look at yourself through the mirror. Now, he’s fucking you harder than he did before. Harder and faster.

“You’re such a slut, hm?” He kisses your cheek before speeding up his thrusts. Your moans are louder than ever as he continues to ruin you.

“‘s too big!” It’s scary how croaky your voice sounds. He kisses your crown before leaning your head back and forcing your mouth open with his fingers.

“Stick out your tongue.”

And after you did so, a glob of spit fell from Eren’s lips and landed on your tongue. “Good fuckin’ girl! You close?”

Mistakenly, you nod again earning another harsh smack on your ass. “Yes, I’m close!”

“Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?!” He asks, his thrusts are amazingly fast and Eren’s lips are on your neck again.

The sight of him makes you cum alone, sweaty forehead that makes his hair curl upwards, his toned body and veiny hands gripping onto your waist and his green eyes boring into yours.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you cry out. When you reach your climax, Eren doesn’t stop.

If anything, he thrusts deeper, chasing after his own orgasm. Your whole body shakes in his touch as he whispers the most filthy things in your ear.

“This pussys fuckin’ mine now, you hear me? I’m gonna be the one that makes you a slutty mess. You’re gonna come to me when your horny, yeah? Anytime, baby, just say the word and I won’t wait to fuck you like the whore you are.”

Although you know you shouldn’t, you nod again, your voice is too broken to respond.

He pulls out and grabs you, forcing you onto your knees. Immediately, you let Eren put his thick cock in your mouth, fucking your face just as quickly as he fucked your pussy.

You feel his thrusts get sloppier as you finally see the white ropes of cum shoot out of his cock onto your face. He groans out so many expletives but you’re too busy finishing him off to hear, making him shake at your mouth still sucking him.

Once he’s done reaching his climax, the two of you look at each other for a moment before laughing. You both look a mess, Eren with his mouth red from kissing you so hard and sweaty from…well, fucking you.

You look like a real pornstar, Eren thinks. If it wasn’t for you very obvious ambition in golfing, Eren thinks you’d make a great model.

“We need to get back…” You whisper, “They’re gonna kill us since we left all of the equipment there.”

You stand up and reach down to get your clothes, he helps you dress and dresses himself. Eren takes a tissue and wets it with water before cleaning his cum off your face.

“Next time, I’ll fuck you in the kart. And after that, I’ll fuck you on the field.” He whispers, causing you to giggle.

#[JMtherula] writes!#attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin eren #eren x reader #eren x y/n #eren smut #eren jeager x y/n #eren jaeger #eren aot #eren yeager #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #richboy!eren #aot smut

3K notes · View notes

prettieinpink · 4 months

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5K SPECIAL | CREATING YOUR OWN GARDEN𝜗𝜚

This is a guide to make your mind like your own garden flourishing with plants, flowers and butterflies. Having a good mental mindset, and being in the right state of mind is essential to being the best version of yourself.

This guide is divided into four sections: mindset, self-care, mental wellness and emotional intelligence. I hope you can take away something useful and take care of yourself! 💖

MINDSET

Your mindset can easily determine how you go through life. It influences how you feel, act, behave and your thoughts. When you have a poor mindset, it is going to be difficult to go through life, even if your life is easy.

However, once we grow and improve our minds, it is easier for us to navigate life, improve our well-being and increase our chances of success.

Before we get into mindset shifts, I want to explain how exactly you can implement them in your life. I feel like there’s so much talk about mindset, but no one exactly explains on how to implement them.

IMPLEMENTING

The first thing to implementing mindset shifts is making a conscious effort to be aware of your thoughts. If you want, practice mindful activities to improve your self-awareness of your thoughts.

You have to be able to catch a thought in its passing and whoosh it away from your mind. If you don’t whoosh it away, those simple thoughts build each time which can soon turn into the way you think.

Secondly, after increasing your awareness, identify what exactly about your thoughts or mindset you’d like to shift, and what you would like to shift to.

Thirdly, is to completely immerse yourself in that mindset shift. The mind learns through repetition, meaning that repeating it enough will make your mind learn it.

Set your mindset shift as your weekly intention, say affirmations, and prayer, read books on it, put a quote on your phone as your wallpaper, just make it so that mindset shift is constantly on your mind.

Lastly, do small actionable things that reinforce that mindset shift. I recommend you do at least one habit every day for this.

This is not the only method to implement mindset shifts, but for me, it’s the one that is highly effective. I recommend doing some research on your own, and making adjustments when needed depending on how you think.

MINDSET SHIFTS

This whole part we’ll talk about the mindset shifts I think everyone should at least try to implement in their lives if they want to improve themselves. These mindset shifts are my absolute favourites and they improved the quality of my life.

After each one, I’ll state a small habit you can incorporate that contributes to that shift.

Live your life with your highest self in mind.

This is more intentional living than an actual mindset shift, but still as important. Whatever you do throughout the day, consider if it aligns with your highest self. If not? Release it. Your highest self knows what's best for you, trust them.

At the end of the day, reflect on your daily habits, which include all habits you did today whether they were ideal or not. What habits aligned with your highest self and which didn’t? The ones that didn’t, why? How can you change or remove this habit to get closer to your highest self?

Rejection is just redirection.

As someone who has gotten rejected from the things that they wanted and felt so lost in the pursuit of fulfilment, this mindset shift saved me. You have to stop chasing the things that aren’t meant for you if life has proved it isn’t.

While I’m not saying give up after the first try, but try to step back and assess the situation. If you are qualified and ready for this thing, then why is it still not yours? Because it isn’t meant for you. God is trying to nudge you into a different path, recognise his signs.

To handle rejection better, look for the lesson(s) you’ve learnt, and the skills you grew and see if there is another area of life that you can apply them to.

Keep yourself on a pedestal.

I am worthy so much to me. It sounds like a weird sentence, but you should start treating yourself like a treasure and avoid giving out that same treatment to most people because you have your soul, which homes itself in your body. Every day, you are living through this soul and body.

So, why would you take care of someone else’s soul and body? You are never going to be the soul that lives in their body, or the body which homes their soul. Don’t neglect yourself in the priority of someone else.

Practice setting boundaries with others and recognising when someone wants more than what you’re willing.

You choose the life that you want.

You have choices and options every day to do things that will eventually have an outcome. Whether this outcome supports the vision of your dream life or not, all depends on how you choose to live your life now.

I don’t have a habit with this one but keep in mind that absolutely nothing is controlling you, and your choices are of free will. Circumstances can change, but that is why we have to adapt and be flexible.

Fear is a step to success

If you’re not scared, you’re not doing it right. Fear can hold us back, but that is why we have to twist fear into a source of motivation instead. If we were always in our comfort zone, stepping back when we feel a sliver of fear, we allow fear to dictate our life and its course.

You can’t be successful unless you do the uncomfortable. For this one, do something each day that scares you or makes you uncomfortable. It doesn’t have to be anything extreme, but simple things like exercising longer than usual or talking to someone who you wouldn’t imagine yourself with. Those little risks are so important.

Embarrassment is not a real emotion

This one is a bit controversial, but I do not believe in the concept of embarrassment. Yes, things can sometimes be awkward, but it is fully in your control if you want to feel ashamed or not. Being embarrassed only holds you back, and doesn’t allow you to live life to its fullest.

I would recommend doing a small risk every day as well, but of things that would usually feel awkward.

Progress over perfection/completion

Perfectionism which is allowed to be nurtured over time can create an avoidance mindset towards doing harder things in life. While we should strive for excellence in everything we do, we shouldn’t allow it to consume us.

(the avoidance mindset is when we put off/avoid tasks that we believe to be out of our abilities, and so that completion of the task is poor quality/not done well.)

This one is less common, but I know a few people who would not do a task if they knew it would not be fully completed in their desired time frame. However, each minute of work contributes to the results or completion of something.

Every day, do one thing that will add up to the completion of your long-term goals.

To welcome tomorrow, you have to let go of yesterday.

Living in the past makes us neglect our present self. I’m not saying forget everything that’s happened, but never allow the past to consume your mind. Acknowledge that you’ve been hurt, you’re longing or you were happier. Then, release it.

Journaling is the perfect way to stay in touch with the present. You can type it, write it, vlog, draw, or compose to journal.

Everyone has their beauty.

This one helped me a lot with comparison. I saw beauty, not as a measure or a value of someone, but rather something that everyone has uniquely and it cannot be valued. I have my sense of beauty, and you have your beauty as well. We are two different people with unique features, traits and qualities, so our ‘beauty’ can’t be measured against each other.

Define your beauty. You could be smart, feminine, book beauty or dark, flowers, creative beauty. You add your details to your beauty and never try to define someone else's.

To conclude this section, your mindset is very powerful. To achieve your goals, work on your mindset. Also, don’t try to work on more than one mindset shift at a time. Implement one fully then work on the next one. It could be overwhelming if you’re doing more than one.

SELF-CARE

The next chapter of this guide is about self-care. Self-care is important for maintaining balance in our lives and generally keeping ourselves happy. However, most people don’t understand the concept of self-care, so they just end up doing a bunch of random things and wondering why they don’t feel better.

Yes, you can coddle or pamper yourself when you want, but it is not self-care. While activities from these three things do overlap, do not confuse the terms with each other.

Self-care is simply what it says. Taking care of yourself. Taking care of yourself looks different for everyone. My idea of self-care will be different to yours.

REDEFINING SELF-CARE.

When you imagine what self-care looks like, it’s typically someone else’s definition of self-care which has been reinforced in your mind. You have to redefine your idea of self-care to match your goals, energy levels and circumstances.

Before you do, self-care is not always about taking a break. It seems that way, however, self-care can also be having the discipline to do the things that you don’t want to, but are good for you.

Here are some questions to help you redefine your self-care:

What does self-care mean to you? Does that meaning align with your current values and needs?

Do you have any negative associations or misconceptions of self-care? Why?

How do I feel in all areas of my life? (physically, mentally, spiritually, professionally). What areas need more attention and how can I improve that area(s)?

What activities bring me happiness, fulfilment and a sense of renewal?

What tasks do I have to do, which are good for me but I hesitate in completing that task?

How would I like to feel after complementing my self-care rituals?

Envision your life if it had complete balance and self-care incorporated. What habits would you be doing to support that vision?

My idea of self-care is completing all of my non-negotiables, maintaining a healthy lifestyle, taking somewhat productive breaks and talking to others daily.

THE SEVEN PILLARS OF SELF-CARE

Self-care has seven pillars, which you all need to take care of to have a balanced life. However, balanced self-care does not mean equal attention to each pillar. It means that each one is up to the same standard of self-care you’ve put for yourself. So, you need to allocate your attention appropriately.

MAJOR PILLARS

Physical - The well-being of your body.

Mental - The state of your mental health, mind and emotions.

Spiritual - The strengthening of your relationship with God while nourishing your holy spirit.

Personal - Doing things that bring you enjoyment and fulfilment + embracing your identity.

MINOR PILLARS

Social - Connecting with friends, family or even strangers.

Professional - Your work/school life.

Environment - Keeping your space clean and extracting anything that holds you back.

Major and minor do not add or take away the value each category has, it just means that major pillars may need more attention compared to the minor ones which may need less attention. Of course, you may need to focus more on a minor pillar, as self-care is individual to you.

I would’ve added a list of things that you could do for each category, but I want you to think about what you need for each instead of relying on strangers with different lives for self-care.

Maybe you need to focus on exercising and doing your hobbies more. Or you need to create a better work/life balance for yourself. It all depends on your values, needs and circumstances.

MENTAL WELLNESS

Mental wellness is the state of our cognitive, emotional and psychological functioning. When we are mentally well, we can cope better with challenges, develop a habit of having positive thoughts, and greater happiness and improve most areas of our lives overall.

There are a lot of things that contribute to our mental wellness, and I most likely won’t have everything here. Just a little disclaimer as well, it is completely normal to have a fluctuating mental state especially when we are going through unfavourable change.

DIGITAL MINDFULNESS

Social media is a huge part of our lives but is also the main factor of mental destruction. I’m not going to say delete all of your social media, but I want to introduce to you a few ways to mindfully consume and rules with managing screen time.

MINDFUL CONSUMPTION

To consume content mindfully, go onto apps intentionally and know what your purpose is when using that app. For example, if you want to find new habits that you can do, you could search on Tumblr or if you want a quick break from something stressful you can watch an episode of something on Netflix.

It doesn’t matter what the purpose exactly is, but the action of being intentional.

After you consume what you want, download images, and screenshots, and take notes or any documentation of what you found/learnt. This is more so the information is remembered/used.

Manage your notifications. You do not need notifications from every app. Except for messages and phones, I do not put notifications on my device. I believe that if something is important enough, I’ll remember to check my phone later without the help of a notification.

Only consume quality content. It is so easy to consume content that has obviously been reposted or is blatantly spreading misinformation. Only consume from people who you trust and you’ve followed/subscribed to. While yes, you can explore but be very mindful when doing so.

You should be decluttering, organising and deleting on your devices routinely. This reduces the amount of distractions on your phone and makes it more intentional. Only keep the things that align with your needs, values and goals.

DIGITAL BOUNDARIES

Have rooms or zones in the house in which you’re not allowed to use any devices or the devices you choose. For example, the bed, bathroom, office, when you’re eating at the dining table, etc.

An alternative is having a period of a day when device usage is not allowed. It could be right after you wake up, right before you go to sleep or just in the middle of the day. Either, I recommend you have a time or place in which device usage is not allowed.

While I encourage everyone to keep up with socialising with their loved ones and friends, I don’t support dropping everything just to talk to someone. E.g If somebody wants to text while you’re in the middle of a study sesh, just say you’ll talk later.

MANAGING STRESS

Stress is an unwelcome yet common feeling we all have. No matter what’s on your plate, we tend to stress a lot, especially in a society that is going so fast and makes us feel like we’re falling behind.

To manage stress, you need to be self-aware of when you feel stressed. A lot of people actually can’t recognise when they feel stressed, and I am one of those people. Instead, I rely on mental or physical signs that tell me I’m feeling stressed out.

SIGNS OF STRESS

Unusual lack of motivation or discipline

Feeling tired constantly even if haven’t done anything exhausting

Inconvenience impacts you more

Overthinking about small things

Trouble with sleeping

Low appetite

Focusing is harder

Crying or feeling tearful over small things

This is not the complete list of symptoms, but these are the things I feel/do when I feel stressed. Stress will look different for everyone, so you need to be able to create your own list of signs when you feel stressed.

CREATING A STRESS MANAGEMENT PLAN

Creating a plan helps you to be prepared to effectively address and cope with stress. It allows you to be more productive and improves mental health when you use this plan when needed.

Here are a few steps to creating your own!

Identify stress triggers. What do you dread the most? What makes you feel drained? What do you overthink about? Answer these questions to figure out what triggers your stress.

Assess your coping strategies. Notice if you have any ways of coping that are self-destructive, as this only contributes to your stress.

Choose 1-3 activities that are fun to you and are not self-destructive. These activities do not have to be productive or beneficial, but they have to make you feel relaxed and generally feel better

Choose one relaxation technique and one self-care activity. These are up to you, as we tend to neglect self-care relaxation when we’re stressed.

Optional, but have one person who you can talk to when you’re stressed. When we are stressed, we tend to look at the smaller picture but talking to someone else helps us gain a greater perspective on the matter.

PRETTIEINPINK’S EXAMPLE PLAN

(If doing something that is my stress trigger, slot a time in the day to do my plan.)

Journal about why I’m stressed

Make a cup of strawberry and mango tea

Read a nice story while drinking tea

Guided stress meditation

Eat some fruits

Another thing when creating you plan to not restrict yourself using time. Allow yourself to take as much time as needed to alleviate yourself of stress.

EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE

Being emotionally intelligent is a skill. It is the ability to understand, process and communicate emotions effectively.

There are times when we do sometimes let our emotions take over and they dictate our actions, thoughts and words. This is why we need to build this skill, to get that control over our emotions back.

Thinking before you speak is an oldie but goodie. What we say can drastically influence the current situation for better or for worse. If you think that what you might say is rude, offensive or crude, don’t say it at all.

Also, stay quiet! I am all for standing up for yourself when being disrespected, but you need to recognise when someone is trying to rile you up... They WANT a reaction out of you. Most likely to use against you. Silently exit the situation instead.

If you are someone who gets a lot of energy from big emotions like anger, dejection, sadness, and jealousy, try to channel that energy into something that requires you to have a lot of energy and is beneficial to you. Keeping that energy in until you blow up is a no-no.

Not everyone is trying to hold you back with ill intent. People’s previous experiences can influence the advice they give to you because they have your best interest at heart. They know that their method worked, which is why they’re advising it. These types of people don’t understand that there is more than one way, but they still love you.

Avoid prolonging emotions. When you’re sad, don’t listen to depressing music. When you’re angry, don’t consume ragefuel. It’s very easy in this age of consuming to amplify therefore prolonging emotions, but it holds us back. Process it, and move on.

Stop acting on a whim. Go where your heart takes you, but reflect on it and create a plan. When you do, you end up in unfavourable circumstances. The most common one is working so hard to get to a certain point, only to realise that you don’t even like it. This is why reflection is important.

Be kind even when you’re not receiving it. Kindness is only kind when we do it out of pure love instead of personal gain. Stop expecting people to be kind to you after you’ve been kind to them. Kindness is a debt-free action.

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imyourbratzdoll · 5 months

Text

𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒏 𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈

🍑peaches world (and the men that just exist in it) masterlist🍑

summary - the beginning on how you were kidnapped by the king of koopa kingdom, buckle in your seatbelts and enjoy the ride, because this will be a smutty rollercoaster.

warning - mentions of cock, kidnapping, inappropriate feelings/thoughts, swearing.

18+ only please, the gif isn’t mine, header created by me.

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

You watched your kingdom from above, it was a peaceful day as your people walked around and lived their lives happily. Usually, things were more of a ruckus. With a smile you turned and began to walk out of your room and down the hall, your pretty pink dress falling gracefully to the floor and sways with each step. You were happy, Lloyd and his brother Tangerine were currently out helping the people, so you had the castle to yourself.

You were wondering what you were going to do with your free time. You had many options, you could improve your parkour, do some painting that you always wanted to do but pushed to the side, you could go outside and tend to your flowers. The possibilities were endless and just as you were about to take the last step, a hand wraps around and covers your mouth. Your eyes widen, your hands immediately go up to try and pull whoever it is away. You freeze when they speak, feeling their massive body pressing against you.

“Shh, little Princess. You don’t want to warn the guards now, do you?” Ari Bowser Levinson is the one currently holding you. Your enemy, your rival. The King of The Koopa Kingdom. “That’s a good little Princess, staying nice and quiet for me.” You try to fight the shiver that runs through your body, knowing it’s wrong to feel this way when you are with someone. “Do you know how shit your security system is, Princess? I managed to slip right in, I mean. Someone really bad could’ve broken in and taken you for themselves, don’t you understand how dangerous that is.” He whispers like he isn’t the really bad person. You wiggle, trying to move away but you end up brushing your arse against him instead causing him to groan. “I wouldn’t do that, Princess. Unless you are wanting me to take you right here.”

You stop abruptly and your eyes widen, suddenly everything goes black. You don’t remember anything after that, and when you finally wake with your eyes fluttering open. You look around, confused. The walls and floors are grey, you tilt your head as you notice a large screen resting against the wall. Your attention is brought away from it when Ari enters the room. “Good morning, little Princess! Has my little Princess made herself comfortable in her new home?” He towers over you as he’s around 8 feet tall. He stalks closer, bending over to stare at your sitting form. “I sure hope so, because if I get my way, you will be staying here for the rest of your life!” He grins, and you shiver as it comes off evil-like. His eyes holding something much darker behind them.

“Screw you and your plan, Ari! I’m sure Lloyd and his brother are already on their way to come rescue me!” You huff, arms crossing over your chest unknowingly pushing your breasts together and giving the older man/monster a lovely view. Your bottom lip juts out and you try to glare at him, failing miserably with how small and cute you are compared to him.

Ari coos, “You are correct, my smart little Princess. As far as I’ve been informed, they are already on their way!” He watches you jump with joy, your breasts bouncing with each movement, and he feels his cock twitch, licking his lips as soon the fun will begin.

“Really?! They are coming?! That’s great!” You continue to jump, clapping your hands as a giant grin appears on your face.

Ari laughs, shaking his head and moving closer to you. Backing you into the wall. “Not so fast, little Princess. Not everything is going to be easy for you.” He grins, placing his arm next to you against the wall. Ari directs you toward the screen, his arm wraps around you, making you feel even smaller, those darn tingles appearing again, and you try to push them away knowing how wrong it is. His hand reaches into his pocket, receiving a remote and you eye it. Your eyes move from the remote to his hands, wondering how they can still look so good with the claws.

You had always heard stories before Ari turned his attention toward you and your kingdom. (Mostly you, but you didn’t think someone would be so obsessed with just you.) He was once a man that got his karma, being turned into half of a turtle. His already big build helped him mutate into something more monstrous. Horns in certain places, claws, sharp fangs, a larger cock. (Not that anyone got to see, but I guess it’ll be your lucky day.)

Ari snaps you out of your thoughts, smirking when he catches you staring at his hands. “Two days have passed since I kidnapped you, little Princess. Where do you think Lloyd and his brother are now?” He hums.

“I presume they should be knocking at the door to enter the castle, right about now. I think…” You blink up at him, brows furrowed.

Ari boops your nose, smirking wider than before. “Alright, if you have that much hope in your little boyfriend. Let’s watch it live to see how they are doing, shall we, little Princess?” You both face the tv, his large finger pressing the on button and he grins at your wide tear-filled eyes.

“They’re at the beginning?! But how?! What are they still doing there?!” You yell in disbelief. Sure, the brothers were a bit slow sometimes, but you would’ve thought that saving you would make them go a bit faster. You begin to scream at the screen, hoping that they would be able to hear you. “It’s been two days, and you are still there?! I’m not even in that fucking world!” Ari chuckles behind his hand as he hears you swear, you look so cute as your cheeks puff out. “I’m in Bowser’s castle! Everyone knows it’s the biggest and most guarded of them all! Those are just fucking decoys!” You stomp your foot, practically throwing a tantrum, not noticing the big bad King sneaking closer behind you. “You fucking idiots! They’ll kill you now! Fucking watch out! That’s just the first Goomba of that level! Don’t let him touch you, you idiots!”

“This is going to take a while, little Princess. So… Why don’t we have some fun while we wait.” Ari smirks as you turn with a confused look on your face. Before you can react, he rips your dress from your body, and you stand there with wide eyes. “Oh, we are definitely going to have some fun, little Princess.”

would you like to follow the game? if yes, please click round 1 when the link is avaliable.

𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 1

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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