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Thinking about High school Robert with a corruption kink for “religious” shy reader

CW: Both Robert and reader are 18, reader has AFAB anatomy, reader is (was) a virgin and Robert is not, masturbation, fingering, oral (both receiving), nicknames, Robert is a bit of a dick but tries to be nice (key word is try), smoking, public/car sex

High school Robert who while not being the sweetest person, tries to be softer and gentle with you. He’d still do shit like smoke around you but is sure not to blow it right in your face, or keep the windows open if you’re in his car.

High school Robert who has a hate-love relationship with how innocent you are. On one hand he loves how squeamish and flustered you get when he makes dirty jokes and stuff. But on the other hand, you two haven’t done anything past making out and while he would never pressure you, he’s getting impatient.

“Religious” shy reader who hates their innocence, period. They feel left behind and like an idiot that doesn’t understand how basic sex works (which isn’t too far from the truth). They wanna please Robert but they don’t know how.

“Religious” shy reader who’s only just started masturbating. All they can really do is play with their clit and tease themselves until they come. They have to start doing it everyday just to focus. They get addicted to it.

Kinky love pt.2

Warning, disgusting satoru, weirdo satoru, stalkerish satoru, stealing undergarments, jerking off solo, desperate.

satoru stared at you, from shokos bed. Shoko and you were roommates allowing satoru to just gawk at you from across the bed, because god you were so beautiful. The only reason he insisted on helping Shoko was just so he could stare at you, he wasn’t able to stare at you during class as you would sit in the very back, while satoru sat in the front making sure to get good notes incase you ever asked to borrow his notes.

Which you never asked, he even began begging Shoko to try to get her to give him your number, Shoko was gonna say no as she already knew if she did he wouldn’t even text first.

Satoru watched as you and Shoko left the dorm to quickly grab sanitary or whatever, he wasn’t paying attention. He immediately got up and went into your laundry basket and pushed his nose against your dirty panties, his eyes rolling back at the scent of the sweetness and sweat combined.

He went into your drawer to grab one clean lace pantie and quickly stuffed them into his backpack pocket that he never opens. After you and Shoko came back, Satoru quickly apologises to Shoko and left.

Satoru had a flush look on his face, as he imagined what’d he do later this night to your panties. You not even knowing that he just stole your panties, turned him on so much he could feel himself throbbing and leaking pre cum. Satoru quickly made it to his dorm and immediately dropped everything, he was glad he didn’t have a roommate.

Satoru opened his backpack to grab the panties before throwing his sweater and shirt off as he quickly sat on his bed leaning against the pillow as he held one of your dirty panties. He knew he should feel ashamed for doing this, but the excitement of doing this without your knowledge made him even harder. He put the panties on his face as he sniffed, feeling his cock twitch against his sweatpants.

Satoru reached his hand down pulling his sweatpants down a bit as he pushed his hips up and palmed himself through his underwear, feeling his cock twitch against his hand as he groaned and closed his eyes, trying to pretend it was you touching his cock and not himself.

He imagines you catching him, would you be shocked? Would you join him? Satoru pulled his underwear down, as his cock sprung out in the cold air, curving to the side dripping with pre cum. Satoru opened one eye just to stare at his cock, still trying to think what your reaction would be. God he hoped you would join, tell him you want him too and he isn’t a creep for stealing your underwear and jerking off to it.

Satoru grabbed his cock, going up and down in a slow motion making sure to spread the pre cum all over his cock as lube. He wonders how you’ll look on your knees, do you have a gag reflex? Are you a virgin? Satoru closed his eyes again as he groaned as moved the motion of his hand faster and faster. Satoru was a moaning mess with his face all flushed, his glasses becoming foggy making it difficult to even see anything. He pumped for a few more times before cuming and wiping the cum against your stolen panties. Promising he would return the stolen panties as he knew he wouldn’t. Satoru fixed his glasses as he looked in the mirror, cum was on his stomach, face, nipples and even on his hair.

Satoru took a shower and hid your panties in his drawer. Grabbing his phone as he stared at his lock screen with a message from an unknown number saying

“Hi! It’s {+}, I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

Satoru smiled at the message, heart eyes forming behind those glasses as you’ve finally noticed him.

GUYS IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING MUCJ BUT I MADE THIS IN 30 MINUTES, DEF NOT GRAMMAR PROOF. I’ve evolved too👀😳✌️

Credits to artists ofc but I don’t know who do it unfortunately

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 — LN4

lando norris x desi!ex wife reader

summary: after getting married very young you and lando get divorced after seven years of marriage. still flirtatiously communicating on social media, fans bring up cute moments that have you and lando rethinking your decision.

social media + texts

( i tried to do my best with the culture aspect of this, but pleaseee tell me if something is inaccurate or offensive. i do different readers as my best effort to be inclusive especially for those who don't get represented as much. hope you enjoy this! )

#lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #desi reader #f1 social media au

｡𖦹°‧ your dupatta gets stuck to his watch || r.sukuna x f!desi!reader

a/n: typical bollywood meet cute because sukuna and desi reader have been taking up a large part of my time lately. also not proof read 😔 - listen to 'tujh mein rabh dikhta hein' specifically the part from 1:06 for max immersive experience 😛 wc: 1.2k

The plan was to go straight home after the function. No detours. No side quests. Just go home, free yourself from the confines of your stupidly heavy lehenga. Rip off the earrings that had your ears feeling as though they were about to fall off. Wipe off the makeup that you’re pretty sure is melting off your face. And marinate in your pyjamas whilst bingeing your comfort show.

But when you drive past the bright glowing lights of Taco Bell, you couldn’t seem to resist. The sign wasn’t just illuminating, it was beckoning. Calling your name in the form of baja blasts and crispy chicken burritos. It was practically luring you in!

So now, you’re parked up outside at 1:27am, lehenga skirt bunched up in one hand, phone balanced in the other as you stumble out of your car, dignity hanging on by a thread. You make sure to slam the car door with a little more force than necessary, wincing with every step you take towards the entrance, in heels that felt like a great choice at the beginning of the night but were now beginning to feel as though they had been designed by Satan himself.

The air is cool against your skin, a dramatic gust of wind rushing through the near empty car park. Your skirt sways. Your jewellery chimes. Your hair is blowing behind you in what seems to be… slow motion? You could have sworn you heard music playing softly in the background too - the theatrical score of violins and flutes. Whatever, it was probably your imagination.

After what seemed like an eternity, you make it to the door. You reach out to open it and then…

Tug.

a/n: alexa play 'desi girl' (ft. satoru finding his name in your mehndi) lowkey think that i like the suguru one more LOL | nanami version

there's music playing in the background, almost muffled by the excited chatter of friends and family invited to your most special day. but if satoru's being honest, he can't hear the music or chatter, solely entranced by you. you and him in your own little bubble of happiness.

his hands cradle yours tenderly yet firmly, your knuckles brushing against his palms. you expect his eyes to be scrutinising the brown stain, intricate and beautiful, but when your gaze flickers to his face he's staring at you with a lovesick grin.

“satoru, you're not even looking,” you laugh.

“oh, i am. and i'm thoroughly enjoying the view.” he winks. you roll your eyes playfully.

“you're so goofy.”

“mhm, but i'm your goofy husband now, mrs gojo,” he smirks, but it soon melts back into a loving smile. it almost hurts his heart, in the most euphoric way possible, to look at you, adorned in deep red and gold. his wife.

“hey, don't try to weasel your way out of this by talking sweet like that.”

“i'm not trying to weasel out of anything. am i the bad guy for wanting to stare at my stunning wife?” he emphasises the last word on purpose, savouring the way it rolls off his tongue so beautifully.

you huff, beginning to slide your hands out of his but he quickly grasps them again, his thumbs circling your palms.

“ah, you don't need to let go. fineee, i'll take a looksie.”

he spares one more glance at your features before his eyes trail down to your hands painted delicately with mehndi, to find his name embedded into it.

it's hidden on your wedding ring finger. he already knows it. he found it about ten minutes ago before his eyes had wandered to your face. but he doesn't say anything, not wanting to let go of your hands yet as his thumbs continue to caress your palms.

as he pretends to continue to look for it, he speaks up softly, “your grandmother told me about that myth - that the darker the stain of your mehndi, the more your husband loves you. and it's no surprise that yours is so dark,” he smirks playfully, eyes briefly meeting yours.

a soft smile decorates your lips, and his heart skips a beat. “in that case, i never want it to fade.”

“i'll make sure it never does,” he whispers, bringing your hand up to his lips and he kisses the spot where his thumb once was. and his thumb moves to hover over his engraved name.

you notice where his thumb drifts and raise an eyebrow at him. “you saw it this whole time, didn't you?”

he grins cheekily, crinkled eyes marrying yours, such devotion and admiration shimmering in his. “yeah,” he admits quietly, “i just didn't wanna let go.”

his lips travel up from your palm to the gold ring sitting prettily on your finger, a diamond nestled in the middle so luminous, yet his eyes still put it to shame.

“am i the pope? kissing my ring like that,” you giggle teasingly. but your eyes are warm and affectionate as you watch him.

“chup, and let me love on my wife.”

Drawing henna on myself for eid and thought about Enjin (x Desi Reader).

Girls put their bfs/hubbys name on their hands, hide the initials in the intricate henna design. And then their partners have to find them. Also if the colour isn't deep it traditionally means your partner doesn't love you enough lmao.

I think Enjin would be so into this tradition. He got so many tattoos, and seeing you for the first time with those gorgeous designs he'd be all excited thinking you got tattoos without telling him. But then when you explain everything to him he'd be so into it. Trying his hardest to finding his initial hidden somewhere on your hands. He'd hold both your hands and stare with full focus and slight annoyance because he's loosing patience, at the same time amazed at the intricate patterns and designs. If you did it yourself he'd praise you until you're a blushing mess. Finally when he does find his initial hidden in a corner of your palm he'd want to kiss it and then proceed to tease you again because he's annoying like that and we love him that way. If your henna comes out in a dull colour, you'd go to him whining and complaining because it's his fault your henna came out dull and ugly, he doesn't love you enough. He'd be so freaked out, then he'd make sure to love you extra all day. But if it does come out in a vibrant colour, Welp he's teasing you again, duh. It'd be so fun for him. And at the end, he'd be so into this tradition that he'd get YOUR initial tattooed on to him and now he's sitting there shirtless and smug and grinning like the annoying shit he is, and you're trying your best to find your name in the mess of his tattoos while not getting distracted by his abs lol. Good luck.

Anyways Eid Mubarak to my fellow desi peeps and everyone who celebrates it. Love y'all. ❤️🌙

(forgive my poor English, this is just a dump of my thoughts.)

#enjin x reader #enjin #gachiakuta #gachiakuta x reader #enjin x you #gachiakuta enjin #enjin fluff #bakugou fluff #enjin x fem!reader #enjin x reader fluff #eid mubarak #desi reader #enjin x desi reader

Fitoor Pt.III

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yandere! Batboys x fem! Desi!reader

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ swearing. fluff. canon typical violence. crack.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ This might just be my most requested series besides the Yan!ATG fic. I was this close to abandoning it, but y’all refused to let me and now I’m on a roll again! There should be at least two more chapters before my motivation dips again, so keep the energy coming. And as always, don’t forget to Comment, Reblog and Like (☆≧▽^)

Comment to be added to taglist

Pt. I | Pt. II | Pt. IV | Pt. V

Jason found a rare, familiar solace in the ritual of maintenance. After the grit and grim reality of his nocturnal duties—whether as a vengeful vigilante or a strategic crimelord—true moments of peace were fleeting. The garage of his old friend’s repair shop had become a sanctuary. When he wasn’t patrolling Gotham's rain-slicked rooftops or navigating the fraught politics of its underworld, he came here, letting the scent of grease and gasoline clear his head.

•·.·'Still Need Dad '·.·•

Platonic!Bruce Wayne x teen!batbro!reader

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.6k

Tags: ftm-coded!reader but not explicitly stated, desi!reader but not explicitly stated, fluff

Summary: After a full team mission, everyone is tied. That’s nothing new. But sometimes you still need your dad to pull you away from a task you can save for later and send you to bed.

Author’s note: I am a trans dude as well as being mixed, the reader is heavily based on me because this was self indulgent af. I’m Irish and Indian, I wear bangles irl. The reader wears bengals despite being a guy. I am in desperate need of more desi!reader fics. Sorry my page has been pretty dead, I hope you enjoy. I tried to write it in active voice for a change, so I’m sorry if it’s a bit funky compared to my usual passive voice!

Fic starts below

Bruce is—despite you and your siblings aging him several decades with each shenanigan or injury—always proud to say who his children have grown up to be. The once small sidekicks that have turned into your own amazing vigilantes and heroes or are on the way to it. He would not trade it for anything. He does, though, occasionally miss the days when you were all small. When he could carry you up to bed after a late patrol, or patch one of you up without hearing embarrassed grumbling. Now, he most often receives argument and protest each time he patches one of you up. From Dick? Insistence that he does not need help. From Cass? A quiet assurance that she is fine, though she is more likely to allow the help. Bruce nearly had to sedate a bleeding out Jason when the crime lord insisted he could stitch a deep gash in his side on his own. The list goes on, and each story added reminds Bruce that his kids no longer need him for every scraped knee or monster in the closet. That’s what makes tonight special; it’s one of the few nights that shows that his kids still need him. That his life is somehow more than just fighting in the dark and pretending to be a himbo during the day. Tonight has been a long and draining one—more draining than usual for a Gotham vigilante. A nearly full-team mission had been planned and sprung on Black Mask and his constituents. The mission had been meant to stop an arms deal. Long story short, the weapon was on its way to the Justice League for safe keeping and the bats have all been patched up. Everyone has been changed out of their costumes and into more comfortable clothes for a short time now. Most of your siblings are on their way to their respective apartments, safe houses, or bedrooms in the manor. The only people left in the batcave were you, Bruce, and Tim. The clacking of the keyboard echoed faintly through the cave as Tim logged his portion of the mission report. Bruce had allowed a small exception to this mission that everyone could fill out their reports in the morning due to how straining it had been, but Tim was rarely one to let work go undone. The young man had likely just been waiting for the pain meds to kick in anyway. Bruce, on the other hand, is putting up the last of his gear. Having already finished his report and gotten patched up, he found no reason not to put his things in order. The suit and gear are easiest to account for and have Alfred mend when it was all in the right place, and he certainly does not want to get an earful from the old butler in the morning. What breaks the nearly peaceful ambience of the cave is the sound of you beginning to sharpen one of your blades. Your body feels heavy with sleep and injury, but you feel restless. Like you’re still waiting for another wave of battle.

The sound draws your father’s familiar gaze. You can feel his eyes on you, but you are too tired to particularly care. Bruce can see the tension and exhaustion in your movements. How you stall before each careful swipe of the blade over its expensive whetstone. How your eye lids seem reluctant to open each time you blink. How you don’t bother trying to shake the water off your bangles—which you usually do when they got wet—after putting more water on the whetstone. Right now, Bruce did not see a fearsome vigilante. He saw a worn-out teenager who needed to be sent to bed. Bruce cleared his throat in attempt to get your attention, but it flies over your head. He watched you for a moment longer. How your grip on the dagger’s hilt grows uneven. How your head occasionally bobs as you try not to fall asleep where you are working. A young man needs his sleep, especially one with both a night and day life such as yourself. Bruce calls your name in his usual deep cadence. When he’s sure he has at least half your attention, he continues, “You should go to bed.” “I’m busy,” you matter to him. He can hear how tired you are in your voice, though it’s not as if it is not evident in itself. “You can work on the dagger tomorrow”, Bruce chides as he grows perturbed. Most—if not all—of his children are like this, yet it never gets less worrying. “I’m”, you are cut off by a yawn, “fine, B.” You had tried to sound stubborn, but Bruce right now merely sees his dead tired son pushing his body past his breaking point. The older vigilante sighs as he walks over to you, bending at the knee to kneel and gently take the dagger from your hands. He sheaths it tentatively like it is an extension of you; precious. Something worth handling with care. It is easy for him to evade your attempts at grabbing the weapon back; your reaction time is dulled thanks to how tired you are. “You can finish this tomorrow, (y/n),” Bruce said in a stern yet gentle tone that’s been largely forgotten since you and the rest of your siblings have gotten older. “After school,” he adds to make sure you don’t get any ‘bright’ ideas. “Ridiculous,” you say under your breath with a few other choice words. Bruce only shakes his head while pocketing your dagger. He decides he can put it away once he gets you to bed. You are his priority at the moment; the blade can come after.

The walk to your room is quiet, save for the faint sounds coming from the jewelry on your wrists. The manor is asleep. The animals are in the barn or Damian’s bedroom. Alfred’s retired to his bedroom for the night. The halls are dark with only the dim moonlight shining through the windows to cast elegant light on the walls and off expensive display peaces. It’s peaceful. “Are those staying on?”, your father breaks the illusion of silence. Your half closed eyes glimpse up at him in question. He then offered, “or will I be taking off the bangles?” “Leave them,” you mumbled. The gold bangles would be no issue to you; Bruce only buys the best, so they won’t be breaking or snagging on your sheets. Your glass bangles were strong too, made from tempered glass. You sleep in them most nights anyway. Bruce hums in acknowledgment. He knows you’re about to fall asleep, and he savers the fact that you are not acting tough in the moment like you so often do. When he gets to your room, Bruce shifts you gingerly. Preciously. Like you are made of glass. He doesn’t want to snap you out of your sleepy daze—Bruce doubts you’ll be willing to let go of your earlier task of sharpening the dagger if you get rejuvenated any. When you’re situated again, he opens the fine wooden door to your room. The room is dim. The only light is coming from a small lamp you keep on in case of nights like these, and the glimpses of moonlight that sneak through the curtains. Everything in it is so, very you. From the decorations you’ve collected throughout the years, to the jewelry sitting on an organizer rack. Bruce makes a mental note to order more chest tape for you when he sees the empty box in your trashcan. Just as carefully as before, Bruce shifts you in his arms. This time, though, your father is shifting you to lay you in your bed. When he’s sure you’re comfortable and none of your injuries have been agitated, Bruce smooths out your hair and pulls the blanket over you. You’re asleep before he fully withdraws from the room. He takes a moment to watch you before closing the door on his way out. You are all still his children, no matter how grown you get. You may be nearing the end of high school, but you still need your dad. There’s still time before you leave his nest.