#⛈⛈

[shouyuus]

thinking about making out with hawks and his scruff tickling your skin when he shifts his mouth down to suck big, wet hickeys against your neck, you pulling at his hair giggling and groaning at the same time, him pulling back with a lazy grin and hooded eyes like "hm"? but when you tell him that his scruff is tickling you, all he does is blink before leaning down to purposefully rub it against your face, making you squeal and try to squirm away but he's fast, way faster than you, so he'd pin you to his side and nuzzle you till you're breathless with laughter, chest heaving --

how he'd go still, relax his hold on you till he's just holding you in his lap, his eyes soft as he watches you.

"what?" you ask, reaching up to thumb at the scraggly bits of hair on his chin.

"nothin'. just... like lookin' at you, that's all."

when you crinkle your nose and try to hide your face, he bends down to tug your arms away, nuzzling his nose against yours with a soft groan, "goddamnit you're so fuckin' cute..." before melding his mouth to yours once more and kissing you deep enough to sting.

when he pulls back this time, both of you are breathless and he's got that dark, half-focused look in his eyes that makes your stomach clench in anticipation -- when he hoists you up into his arms and makes for the bedroom, you loop your arms around his shoulders and all he says is --

"well, let's go see if your thighs are as ticklish as your neck is."

[fir3flytv]

JASON TODD yearns for you. He wants you in every way, shape, and form. You're his everything. You're his reason for being. When he thinks of the perfect being, he thinks of you, flaws and all. He takes you as you are. Everything about you, he loves, even the bad. Because you wouldn't be you without them. You'd be someone else. Not his love. The way he looks at you, it's like you crafted every star from hand, every crater in the moon, and every land mass on earth. Every touch he places on you feels like he thinks he's unworthy to be in your presence. JASON TODD needs you. You're a constant. You're his constant. When he looks at his future, he sees you. He sees love. He loves you. He's in love with you. A light in his second life, one he would never take for granted. <3

[fell-e]

they both really want jamil to take a break

[art-is-kayos]

Misread a thing, thought bloodfiends could taste specific emotions from a person's blood and my hand proceeded to slip big time

[rokon24]

18+, vi-shaped brainrot, mdni

consider college roommate!vi who is the star of the rugby team and just such a fucking jock about it, spends hours at the gym, has pre and post workout drinks and never closes her door when she's blasting rock music, leaves pink hair dye on the bathroom counter, stains the tub when she gets drunk and tries to redo her roots, calls you everything but your name -- sweetcheeks, dollface, cupcake, princess -- isn't shy about her hookups, doesn't even bother to apologize the mornings after another pretty cheerleader scampers out of her room, shrugs and winks when you come out of the bathroom with a tiny thong dangling off your finger that's clearly not either of yours.

college roommate!vi who does kickboxing on the weekends and teaches a kid's course at the local gym. the first time you go there to drop something of her's off as a favor, you can't help but stare at the way she laughs and chases the kids around, so gentle with her movements, so careful, guiding their punches, correcting their forms. and the kids love her -- it's so easy to see, the stars in their eyes, the color high in their cheeks, the way the girls cluster around her legs and the boys are constantly vying for her approval, how she tries her best to divide up her attention equally between all of them.

college roommate!vi who goes real quiet the first time you laugh in her presence, a real laugh, not one of those ha-ha ones you snipe at her when she's trying to get a rise out of you, or teasing you about spending all your time in the library, but one that shakes your shoulders and makes your whole face light up. who has to blink when you cock your head and ask if she's okay bc she was so busy staring at you, wondering about the weird thumping in her chest, the tightness in her throat.

college roommate!vi who's there for you when you're stressed about your dissertation, and she knew you were smart, but listening to you rant about it at 3am in the morning, she's starting to realize that... you're kind of a genius. to be so young and already doing a doctorate in mechanical engineering, and the things you're trying to do -- they could conceivably change the world one day. who freezes when you let your head drop onto her shoulder with a heavy sigh, telling her that you don't know what to do.

"you'll figure it out, cupcake. with a brain like yours? you always do."

college roommate!vi who realizes way too late that she's kinda got it bad for you, bc since when did she start getting used to the sight of you wearing one of her gym shirts in the mornings, making scrambled eggs, rolling your eyes when she yawns her way into the tiny kitchen, leaning an arm against the fridge as she looks you over before asking what's for breakfast. who's gotten so used to falling asleep to the soft clatter of your computer keys that when you leave to visit your family for a weekend, she tosses and turns and can't figure out why it's impossible for her to get to sleep, wanders into sliver of space you guys have crammed a couch and tv into to call a living room, slumping down there to stare at the ceiling, only to feel her fingers graze against something on the ground, who tugs out the thing from under the couch only to find herself staring at one of your bunched up socks with the goofy cartoon cats pattern, and she remembers (suddenly) finding you tearing your room apart the week before trying to look for it because it's your favorite pair of socks.

she finds herself chuckling, letting the sock fall again, but the tightness in her throat doesn't recede, and invisible fingers clench in her gut as she lets her eyes fall shut.

"well... fuck."

college roommate!vi who doesn't know how to act when you get back from your weekend away, when you throw yourself into her arms, your skin still smelling of the crisp fall air and something warm, and spicy -- it reminds her of the holiday market you dragged her to last year, the cinnamon and spiced apples, the hot, mulled wine, the way it burned all the way down when she took the first sip, the way it worked the most darling flush into your cheeks above your pink knit scarf.

"i've got a present for you!" you say, when you finally extricate yourself from her gasp, your arms still around her shoulders, her hands still settled around your waist.

"y-yeah? you didn't have to do that, sweetcheeks --"

"yeah, but i saw this in a store window and -- well i just... it reminded me of you," you say, pulling back to dig something out of your travel bag, and it takes everything in vi not to tug you back into her chest. so instead, she settles for knitting her arms across her front and coughing to hide the fact that her throat's just tightened over itself at your words. you? seeing something and thinking of her? gods, she was so far gone.

"here," you say, pulling a small black box out and offering it to her on the palm of your hand.

vi stares, before reaching out to take it, her eyes flickering up towards your face, only to catch you chewing on your bottom lip in a way that makes her mind frizzle out at the edges. she refocuses her attention on the box -- opening it, she finds a tiny little gemstone, set on a thin golden chain --

"oh..." she breathes, tugging out up to let the gem dangle from between her fingers.

"it -- it's an alexandrite stone," you say, your voice a bit reedy, but you push on as vi continues to stare, "it's uhm -- one of the rarest gemstones in nature, but the cool thing is it changes colors depending on what kind of light it's under --" you reach up to grasp her wrist, her lungs seizing at the contact as you tug her into the incandescent light of the kitchen. "see? it was light blue a second ago, right? and now it's --"

"violet," vi says, her voice soft and disbelieving.

you quickly let go of her wrist, pursing your lips and wrapping your arms around yourself, looking anywhere but at her face.

"yeah -- i just --" your shoulders shrug up as she stares at you, her sky-light eyes wide, "it... it reminded me of... you."

college roommate!vi who, ever since the "necklace incident" (as the rest of the rugby team likes to call it), hasn't really been the same. she's put on the necklace and not taken it off for even a second since the day you gave it to her, but now she doesn't really know how to act around you -- bc did you actually like her? i mean, the necklace is... a pretty big thing to just give someone, but what if you were just giving it to her as a friend? as a roommate? she agonizes over it to the point that the rest of the team are so, so sick of hearing about it, they lovingly tell her to just fuck her and get it over with already. but vi insists that she can't -- it's different with you.

college roommate!vi who's stunned speechless when she gets home to find you staring at your computer, your expression blank. and at first, she thinks something's horribly wrong, but then you're slamming into her, squealing about how you've done it -- your thesis defense went well, that you're a doctor now -- and she's picking you up, spinning you around, buoyed up by the effervescence of your happiness, pressing a kiss to your cheek --

"oh my god, congrats princess! i knew it! i always knew you could do it!"

"thanks -- god, i just -- i've wanted it for so long i... i don't know what to do with myself now that i've got it, y'know?" you say, still suspended in vi's arms, your feet lifted off the ground. it takes a moment before you both seem to realize the position you're in, and vi clears her throat as she lets you down, you looking away, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool the heat gathering there.

after a brief pause though, vi chuckles, reaching out to slip a finger beneath your chin, tilting your face up towards her's.

"c'mon, put on one of those pretty dresses of yours. we're going out."

"out?"

"yeah. to celebrate."

you blink as vi pulls her hand away.

"but it's like... 4:30 on a tuesday."

vi cocks an eyebrow, a smirk twitching at her lips, "yes, and? c'mon cupcake --" her eyes catch yours and instead of looking away, she holds it this time, something flickering behind their powder-blue depths that makes your skin prickle with heat, "i'll show you a good time."

college roommate!vi who takes you to one of her favorite clubs, tugging you through the crowd, the jostling bodies, holding your hand in her's, trying really hard not to think too much about it (or the fucking insane little black and pink miniskirt you put on), telling herself that it's just to make sure she doesn't lose you in the crowd, grinning when someone knocks you into her chest, and she finds her arm wrapped around your waist, fingers scrunching the material of your skirt, your palms splayed on her chest.

she buys the both of you a round of shots, watching with a hitched breath as your tongue flickers out to lick the salt daubed on your wrist, the way your eyes squeeze shut when you take the shot and your lips wrap around the lime slice, tries to ignore the twist in her gut like a turning blade, the way her whole body flushes with heat, the dull ache caught between her legs when you wipe your lips, your eyes bright and a little blown out, your cheeks flushed with color as you giggle and lace your hands with hers again --

"come on! i wanna dance!"

college roommate!vi who is just drunk enough to let herself dance with you, to let herself lean in to the way you're twisting your body, fingers in your hair, your eyes closed, an indulgent smile on your lips, who let's herself imagine (just for a second), pulling you in to kiss you, how soft your lips might feel on hers, how silken your skin might be beneath her hands, who tries not to groan when you lean in closer, link your arms behind her neck, press your whole body against her's, who grips your hips just a little too tight, grinds you against her, sees the way you gasp, your eyelids fluttering as you eyes glaze out --

college roommate!vi who can't help how she groans at the sight, tugs you in by the back of your neck to mash her lips to yours, crushing you to her as she kisses you (finally, finally) and you let yourself he kissed -- your fingers tangle in her choppy pink hair, and she swears you make this sweet, mind-bending whimpering noise in the back of your throat that drives her up the wall and right over it --

but when she pulls back, she sees the look on your face -- shocked and little confused, but you're drunk, and she doesn't wanna do this with you -- at least, not like this.

college roommate!vi who pulls away, only to have you follow her all the way out the club, into this small dark alley, her shaking her head, feeling a strange, saltwater prickle at the back of her throat as she says --

"shit -- sorry. i didn't mean to -- i just -- you were just so -- and i -- fuck, i didn't --"

"vi -- vi -- no, violet, listen to me --"

it's her full name on your lips that makes her pause, makes her turn to find you walking towards her. your lipstick is smeared, your hair a waterfall mess around your shoulders as you corner her against the rough brick of the club's exterior. faintly, she can still feel the pulse of music reverberating from inside the club, but out here, the air is damp and cold and quiet.

"i -- i'm sorry i kissed you," she says, her voice cracking over the syllables. she bites her lips as you frown up at her, your eyes searching her's before you let out a soft sigh and a scoff.

"well. i'm sorry you feel that way. cause..." you take half a step back, your arms curling around yourself before you glance back at her with a hard, determined light to your eyes as you press back into her space, your cheeks bright with color.

"i was really kinda hoping you'd do it again."

vi's breath punches out of her chest; it takes a few seconds of sputtering before she gathers herself enough to speak.

"wait -- what? you..."

you crinkle your nose, rolling your eyes, "i -- i thought i was making it obvious -- i mean, with the whole necklace thing -- it doesn't take a genius to figure how i feel about --"

you squeak as she pins you against the opposite wall, her lips seeking yours out, her fingers rucking up the material of your top, making you hiccup as they tease under the wire-rim of your bra.

college roommate!vi who can barely control herself when you sink your fingers into her hair, tugging lightly as you gasp out a breath, her lips tracking fire along the side of your neck, intent on making you whimper again, just the way she likes, grazing her teeth along your collarbone even as you jerk at her hair --

"vi -- fuck -- vi, not here --" you swallow around the burgeoning desire, and when you glance down to find her looking up at you, her eyes so dark they're almost black, you fight back a groan, cup your palms around her cheeks and pull her up for a long kiss.

"let's --" you suck in a breath even as vi whines at the loss your lips, "let's go home --"

"holy fuck," vi swears, somehow managing to pull herself back just far enough to taste the misty night air. she stares at you, your chest heaving, a daisy-chain of hickeys blossoming along the long expanse of your neck, your makeup good and smeared, your hair a mess, your eyes bright and so full of love as they flicker over her face.

vi smiles, helpless to the loud, uncertain drumming of her heart as she says, "y-yeah -- let's get you home, princess."

college roommate!vi who barely waits for the elevator door to close in your building before she's got you shoved up against the wall, hoisting you up, her fingers seeking out the softness of your skin, tugging up your shirt, her other hand dipping into the waistband of your skirt, her mouth open and hungry as she kisses your neck, bites down at the junction of your shoulder just to hear you moan.

college roommate!vi who's way too good at undoing your bra with one hand the second you get back to your apartment (if you were more coherent, you might've thought it hot), the door slamming closed, the pair of you toppling onto the room, breathy laughs and panting whines as she hoists you into her arms and carries you to your bedroom, laying you down so gently, kissing up your stomach till you're whimpering, your own hands pulling your top off your body, leaving you in an undone-bra and a miniskirt, your cheeks flushed. you push yourself up onto your elbows, watching as vi peaks up at you from between your legs, shooting you a wink before she's tugging down your skirt and panties all in one, an eyebrow ticking up at the lil lacey thing you had on beneath the skirt all along.

"all this for me, pretty?"

you press your lips, eyes cutting away as she looks between the bra dangling off your shoulders and the panties caught round your ankles. her lashes flutter.

"oh, a matching set," she cocks her head, running her palms up your thighs, pinning them open again as you try to press them closed, feeling suddenly much too seen (bc you'd be straight up lying if you hadn't put it on in the vague hope that the night might evolve into something like this).

she clicks her tongue, shaking her head with a cocky, shit-eating grin that makes your heart skitter in your chest. her drops a light kiss to your inner thigh, savoring in the way you whine again.

"nope, keep 'em open princess."

college roommate!vi who takes her time with you, bc rly she's been waiting way too long for this, has imagined it one too many times, but nothing can compare to the way your hips jerk up against her mouth, the way your fingers tighten in her hair every time she licks up the seam of your cunt, the way your breath catches on her name over and over again, like you can't quite get the word out even though it's just a single syllable. she groans against you, too lost in the taste of you to care about what a mess she must look like, with her tongue fucking into your desperate hole, her nose nudging your clit, her fingers digging crescent moon marks into your hipbones.

she's sure that if this were an old-fashioned cartoon, there'd be big, balloon hearts popping out of her eyes. she can't get enough of you like this -- moaning her name, your legs on either side of her face, your skin littered with the remnants of her. she has the eye-rolling thought of you the next morning, of how all these marks will still be there to remind you of her every single time you see one of them.

college roommate!vi who doesn't expect you to flip over after she's literally eaten you out seven ways to sunday, to tug her in for a soft kiss (though she really does like pressing your own taste back into your mouth with her tongue), before your fingers are inching down the length of her body to tease at her hips, trailing circles down the lines of her abs, toying with the thin line of hair that leads into her black boxer briefs.

"what are you --"

you shoot her a look that has her mouth going dry.

"what? didn't think i can give as good as i get?"

college roommate!vi who's literally going to lose her mind with the way you're fingers (at first sight so thin and delicate, but gods are they stronger than they look) are pressing into her, curling up with the kind of precision usually only associated with doctors, and then a voice in the back of her head reminds her -- oh, right, you are a doctor now. but logical thought dies after that, bc you've somehow worked your way between her legs and are looking up at her with those big dark eyes of yours, smiling sunshine bright before you drop a kitten-lick against her clit and she's twitching, keening as she cums all over your fingers.

"jesus fuckin' christ, doll -- is that what you're learning in those engineering classes?"

she's breathless, cheeks flushed, and honestly just a little embarrassed at how quickly she came, but she has to bite back another groan as she watches you lick your fingers clean, grinning sweetly up at her as if you didn't just get her off in record time.

"no, but i did do my dissertation on human-based robotics, which included a lot of late nights memorizing anatomical models so..."

vi pulls you in for a kiss, laughing against your lips.

"you're amazing, y'know that?"

college roommate!vi who can't really believe how much she's lucked out, sharing an apartment with her girlfriend, who literally cannot shut up about you, but the rugby team all agree that they'd rather have this than the months of endless pining. who brags about her genius gf to anyone who'll listen, and looks for you in the stands of all her practice matches when you can make it, who kisses you in front of everyone even when you make a show of trying to wiggle away bc she's sweaty (you don't really care).

who loves telling the story of how you guys met bc she still can't quite believe it herself, and the story always starts with --

"well, actually -- we started off as roommates."

Learn More

[sashi-ya]

𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺 ⛈ [chapter 1: introduction] 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⇝ Interactive fic format welcome to the first chapter! as mentioned previously this will be an interactive fic! how does it work? by the end of every chapter you will find a poll section where you will be able to vote for what's coming in the next chapter! what will reader do? what will be the consequences? have fun! ⇝ tw: the story is set to be an awakening for reader. you will find topics as loneliness, hints of depression and suicidal tendencies. be specially careful if this topics are triggering for you. there is no smut in this chapter, but it will be in the following ones. ⇝ don't forget to vote at the end of every chapter! ⇝ masterlist

Nobody, never, told you no. And nobody, ever, will. Miss Independent. Miss Successful. The Boss.

“I don’t care about a stupid storm, get me a damn ticket NOW” you order. The sound of your voice echoes against the many glass windows of your rooftop office. You don’t mind, nor care for your safety… all you have in your life is your job. Biggest enterprise that leads many markets and won’t ever stop growing. At least not on your watch.  

Your hills click harder against the cold marble of the floor, a tuft of hair gets curled around your finger, the insides of your mouth are heavily bitten. Nobody, however, knows you can get anxious. And nobody should, either.

“The… the airport is closed, Miss” your assistant, Usopp, informs.

Your eyes are glued to the blurred image of the city. You can see almost all of it from your position. And it’s that, exactly, what money and power makes you feel; like you are above them all.

“Then get the jet” you venously spit, as if your assistant was stupid enough not to think of that already. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s closed, we are taking off from the vineyard runway”

You notice your secretary nervously trying to find any type of words that could stop you from doing such stupidity, but he finally gives up and simply says “yes, boss...”

He walks away, already with his phone in his hands. He needs to call the private pilot on a Thursday night, with a cyclone outside, just because you couldn’t wait.

The tuft you’ve been playing with around your finger is now behind your ear. You tucked it. As always, your hand did it. Your long red nails did. Loneliness never made you less successful; in fact, quite the opposite.

Through the glass wall, covered in uncountable raindrops, your blurred vision finally fixes into the many buildings around. All of them, so late in the evening, begin to show candid lights throughout them. Families that join and play together. Lonely people hugging their pets. Couples dancing and kissing, or even looking through their windows. None of them, but you, show a single silhouette tonight.

“Boss, I’m- I…” your assistant breaks your bubble of hate and self-awareness. “The pilot says he is not flying tonight. It’s too dangerous” he excuses himself. In fact, his head bowed down exposes how mortified he is by not being able to accomplish your orders.

You turn around and massage your temple. There is a very important meeting you need to attend tomorrow morning. You can’t wait.

“Put Doffy on the line and leave me alone” you straight and coldly say.

He nods, leaving immediately, closing the heavy doors behind him. Not even five seconds after, the sound of your phone announces  Mr. Donquixote is waiting on the line.

“My sweet (Name), to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Are you feeling lonely tonight? You can come home whenever you can” the excentric billionaire, who you sometimes fuck with, sings through the phone.

“I need your private pilot. Now. Flying my jet from the vineyards” you say, not much information is given. He probably understands.

He laughs. Extremely loudly.

“No pilot will take you anywhere tonight but let me see if my nephew wants to risk his life. The kid wants to die often, and apparently you too” he keeps laughing while telling you such terrible statement.

“I need a pilot, not a kid Doflamingo” “He is, indeed, a pilot. Give me twenty minutes, I’ll send it to your vineyard. But you owe me one… you know exactly those lips are my weakness”

Done. Problem fixed. You always know who to call when you need something; you know nobody really cares about your wellbeing but only the things they could get in return if you owe them something.

A carry on is always packed with essential stuff on your office; many are the times you spend travelling compared to those you spend at your own house. You grab it along with your coat and your keys.  You don’t wait for your chauffer; you don’t want to hear blabbering about safety.

“It’s just rain. What’s gonna happen? Am I getting my stilettos wet? So what?”

There isn’t much traffic, the many lights are indeed going the opposite way to yours. Everybody seems to be returning home, while you are driving straight to the outside of the city. Your vineyards aren’t that far but are certainly on a much rural zone.

Thunder roar in the open sky, the darkest night seems to be only illuminated by the power of those flashing lights inside growing grey towers of fluff.

“Bet is gonna be a very fun flight ~” you hum, as you imagine the little powerful plane crossing the menacing clouds ahead.

It takes you little time to arrive to your destination, the engine of your car is way more powerful than most of the automobiles out there.

Right by the door of your vineyards, a man that seems to be on the bones, salutes you.

“Yohohoho! What are you doing here, Boss? Welcome! Do I prepare a glass of Merlot or maybe a Pinot Noir for you tonight? ” he asks, taking his hat off, revealing an amazing afro underneath.

“Brook, take this to the jet. The pilot will be here at any minute, he is a new one so let him pass the door” you instruct your housekeeper, throwing your carry on at him.

His eyes, deep into the sockets of his skull, open wide. Of course, nobody expects you to fly with such storm outside… but that’s just you, and exactly how you are.

“Sure, Boss. I’ll sort everything out for you right away”

You take a swift look at the main house of your vineyards. Everything is perfectly clean and well kept. You are satisfied; your personnel works perfectly well. Except your private pilot, that one is already fired.

You sit down, flopping maybe onto a fancy couch. Nobody is watching, you are allowed to rest for at least just a moment. However, the calm lasts no longer than a couple of seconds.

“Miss (Name), the pilot is here” Brook comments, making your shut eyes to open slowly and -mostly- annoyed. You didn’t expect to see a man standing right next to your employee, but there he is.

“Who are you? why aren’t you on the plane already?” you ask, not even standing up but crossing your legs as you stiff your back muscles. Your thighs, flash a little bit of them underneath the cut of your pencil tight skirt. Your red nails carve on the sides of the armchairs.

The man, of steel eyes and dark hair smirks just a little with defiance and superior demeanour. Something you most likely don’t fancy but makes your insides… anxiously alive.

Wearing nothing but a private pilot uniform, he stands right in front of you. It shows that he is clearly not used to serve, but to be served. And you soon remember this man, who’s been called a “kid”, is in fact Donquixote Doflamingo’s nephew.

“You must be Doffy’s nephew; you are just like him; you don’t bow before anyone. Don’t you?” you ask, this time standing up. Not even your high heels are enough to surpass his height.

He hums. “Trafalgar Law, and I’m not like him” he spits. Apparently he is not only spoiled, but also hates his own family. “I’m not here to work for you, I am here because I’ve been told you needed a favour. You should know how to fly planes by now” he states.

You burn. How dare him tell you are not independent enough.

“Indeed, I do. Apparently you aren’t aware of the fact that I can’t fly without another pilot because of stupid laws and regulations. This isn’t a helicopter; this is a jet” you inform him, walking right pass him and asserting dominance with your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye with a side look. Law, does the same. You are close, so close you can hear his breathing. And your image, imponent and beautiful, reflects on the golden hoops that hang from his right ear.

Both, intensely fight in silence. For what, however, none of you exactly know. And the energy between you two, could probably alter the weather, and the world itself…

“Come on, I have no time to waste. I need to be in London by tomorrow morning” you break the silence. Walking towards a big hall that takes you to the hangar, you turn around just for a couple of seconds to give a last lethal look at your new young companion.

Just a hint of flustered cheeks show in his face, but it’s enough for you to feel like you have won the battle of dominance. Or that’s what you thought.

The heavy steps behind you, makes you internally smile. You are used to be followed by almost mute employees, walking on eggshells not to piss you off. But Law is different; he is not doing this for the money, nor status. He is as suicidal as you, flying in this weather should be prohibited… in fact, it is. But the rich never ask for permission. You are know you are above everything else. And that includes the clouds, too.

“Give me a second, let me sort the charts” Law says, taking a look at the papers in his hands before climbing into the jet.

You nod, as you do the same with your laptop. Something inside you tells you to stop; that those conditions will bring more than mere turbulence. Yet, your cold heart, tells you something louder than your reason; “who cares if something happens, after all? Just do it”

Half an hour after, and a couple of swift looks at each other, Law and you are already set to departure.

For the first time since he arrived you notice the tattoos on his hands; knuckles inked with the word “D.E.A.T.H” rip a scoff from you. It is quite funny to you, that those hands could most likely either fly you to death if you aren’t lucky enough, or to London if you are.

“We don’t need to fly now, we can wait until the conditions seem better” Law murmurs, as those inked fingers turn on every button of the plane. “Your plans aren’t more important than any life”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOh. So, he is not that willing to die as Doffy said…

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Cult of the First Mutant, Scenario One, Reader "Chatting" with Col. William Stryker:

Reader: in human form, trapped in a glowing ring of signs and sigils and circles on a freezing metal floor in a hidden base

Stryker: What... is this creature? This isn't the beast depicted in those old scraps of paper!

Reader: Um... hi? 👋

Stryker: Is it some kind of mutant freak? Get a chain or a leash for it; we'll see if they can fit our needs...

Reader: Wait, what?!

Guards: approaching

Reader: scared and p*ssed

Reader: ENOUGH!!! turns into their "divine" form

Stryker, the scientists, and guards: 😨😰😟

Reader: You little freakin' jerk! That is NOT how you treat people!

Stryker: What-

Reader: snaps their fingers, and everyone but Stryker goes still

Reader: You're a hateful little man, you know. Blegh. I don't know how you sleep at night...

Stryker: I've done everything to ensure the survival of the human race! I've caged beasts just like you! All of your kind will be dead!

Reader: cracks their neck Is that so? Tell me, oh "great" Colonel, was it worth it?

Stryker: What?

Reader: Was it worth it, to kill your son?

Stryker: I did no such thing! That- that thing wasn't my son! My son died the moment those ungodly powers manifested!

Reader: Hmmm... no. Your hatred, your fear, has driven you... not the need to "protect mankind" or whatever cr*p you jerks tell people...

Stryker: He killed my wife!

Reader: You took him away from the only man who could help him control his powers! What happened was an accident! One that would have been avoided if you and your wife weren't ableist, unknowing, toxic people!

Stryker: Listen here you-

Reader: LISTEN TO ME, YOU LITTLE B********! YOU, BECAUSE OF YOUR BLIND, FEARFUL HATRED, KILLED YOUR SON! YOU AND YOUR WIFE PUSHED HIM, HURT HIM, AND ISOLATED HIM! THIS! IS! YOUR! FAULT!

Stryker: I... I...

Stryker: falls to his knees

Stryker: I have nothing...

Reader: You've hurt countless others, killed them, butchered them, and ripped them from their families, their homes, their lives... you've even hurt two of my friends...

Stryker: visibly pales

Reader: But... I'm here to offer you a chance to do better. A way to take back most of the harm you've caused. I'll set you back in the past, with the knowledge of all of this; you'll have your wife, your son, and your job; but- you will never join the Weapon X Program. You will not spread mutant hate and racism. You can live quietly with your family, having a happy life, or stand up for mutant rights, or convince your friends in the government to focus on other, more useful, advances in history... I offer all of this freely... but don't take this for granted... this is a one-time offer, and if you say no... that is on you...

Stryker: ... I... I accept...

Reader: Good... I don't think you're entirely evil, Mr. William, but you're a broken man who let his fears and prejudices best him... with this choice, you take it all back, and start anew. You should feel proud of yourself; not everyone accepts such a choice

Stryker: What... what will I do? What... what would you have me do?

Reader: Well... what about medicine? Or mental health? Not that snake oil or psycho surgery nonsense, but perhaps helping others, understanding them, and finding ways to make their lives just a bit better?

Stryker: ... okay

Reader: Good! Well, then, good-bye, then, Mr. William; welcome to the right side-

Reader: snaps their fingers, and everything fades away...

(And this is why it's Dr. Cornelius who was experimenting, and there was no mention of Stryker! Because Reader offered him a chance to do better, and he actually took it!) (Of course, he's also a bit shaken by seeing Reader, who old scrolls and temples called the First Mutant, but, well, he has his family back, so he's ready to accept whatever they say-)

(Woo! Powerful and confused Reader!)

[revasserium]

. . . ✰ L O V E & D E E P S P A C E

d a y d r e a m s ( a l l )

#001: the first kiss

entwined shadows - sfw, fluff

r a f a y e l

promise (to be holy) - sfw, fluff

eventide - nsfw!, fluff

vocabulary list: stay - sfw; fluff

falling backwards - sfw; fluff

z a y n e

waiting for winter - sfw, fluff

afterglow - sfw, fluff

a note on public health - sfw, fluff

home - sfw, fluff

stolen kisses - sfw, fluff

x a v i e r

hunter and the hunted - nsfw!, fluff

stolen kisses - sfw, fluff

s y l u s

loving you was red - sfw; fluff

[insinirate]

how im tryna fuckin be

[shouyuus]

sry i simply cannot stop thinking about adlers!kageyama seeking you out for a kiss after every game like is a post-game ritual of his. bc like. he's a touchy person by nature and whether it was a good game or a bad game, all he wants is to feel u against him, all he wants is to press in close, to be able to press his fingers into your skin, kiss you till ur both a bit dizzy, either it's to commiserate and seek comfort after losing or to celebrate and ride out his own high of winning, it's the thing he looks forward to the most.

during an post-match interview, he's visibly distracted, glancing off-screen, barely answering the interviewer's questions; she laughs and asks if he's looking for his gf cause it's pretty well known by now that he's a simp of a bf despite what he looks like, and he jerks around, nodding like "yeah, have u seen her? i need my uh --" he cuts off, blushing, but the interviewer presses on like "oh, is there a post-match ritual with your gf?"

kageyama just shrugs, "yeah. something like that."

and later, during another player's interview, you can clearly see kageyama and you in the back, you going up on your tip toes and him bending down to kiss you before someone blocks the view but there's def grainy zooms of it on insta and tiktok within MINUTES of the interview going live.

the next time the interviewer asks, kageyama doesn't even try to hide it anymore and just says, "yeah, need my post-match kiss," before bowing out to go find you.

[fir3flytv]

JASON TODD didn't want a dog. He lived in an apartment with you, with one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and a living room that looked like the furniture decorated in it would fall apart at any moment.

But one day, he comes home to you, sleeping in your bed with a little bull mastiff puppy on his side of the bed. He stares at the dog for a few moments, before going to take off his Red Hood outfit, as though that would make the situation disappear. When he comes back, the dog was still there. Of course.

Gently, Jason shakes you awake, giving you a pointed look. "Got anything you want to share with me, babe?" He asks, eyes trailing down to the dog, still asleep on the bed. A sheepish smile crosses your face. "I can explain?" You say, though it comes out more like a question. "I was volunteering at the animal shelter and found him. He didn't like being with the other dogs in cage but they didn't have enough space to isolate him." "So you thought the best plan was to bring home a dog that can grow to be 150 pounds?" I scoffs lightly. "No, no! I'm fostering him. Just for a little bit," You say quickly. "I thought since he's still a puppy he would be adopted quickly, right? So we won't have to make space for when he gets that big." Jason lets out a soft sigh and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before speaking again. "You're too good," He murmurs softly. You smile up at him and return the kiss onto his cheek. After a few moments, Jason clears his throat and looks down at the puppy, still sprawled out onto his side of the bed. "So where am I going to sleep?" ... JASON TODD sucks at being a foster. He's terrible, horrible, even. If you were to look up 'How to not foster a dog', they would just show his face. It wasn't that he neglected the dog. He could never. He took him out on runs, fed him good food, washed him, played with him. Everything a dog owner could do. No, the reason Jason was so bad was because his first ever foster dog turned out to be a foster failure. Every time someone came by interested in adopting the puppy, Jason would be in your ear, whispering to you that it didn't seem like they knew what they were doing, or that the puppy wouldn't like living with them. Every. Single. Time.

It wasn't till the three month mark of fostering the pup, having moved to a more spacious apartment, that Jason popped the question.

"You know," He starts suddenly while the two of you were on the couch, eating Chinese take out with the dog resting on the floor nearby. "No one here seems to be right for Buster." Buster, his name for the dog. He's used it so much he actually started responding to it. "There's someone, I'm sure," You counter, taking a bite of your food. "I know there is," Jason counters. Just as you open your mouth to tell him that makes no sense, he cuts you off. "Us. We're right for Buster." "Think," He says, reaching out to grip your hand. "For three months, we've had him, we've moved with him. He has his spot in the bed, we've worked him into our schedule. He's happy. Why ruin that?" "So you want to adopt him?" You ask, making sure you understood just exactly what he was saying. It felt too good to be true. "Yeah, I do," He says with a small smile. As soon as he finishes speaking you practically lung at him, tackling him into a hug while whispering small 'thank you's. The action makes Buster jump up and want to join in on whatever is going on, leaping onto the couch and sniffing at the two of you, his massive head bumping you both. In that moment, Jason knew he made the right choice. This felt right. It felt good. It felt like home. You, him, and your giant dog.

[fell-e]

manifesting him in the nmb4cm event

[art-is-kayos]

Dantlings

Bonus charon:

[hyphrus]

Tricologe Layout

Gift for @sillysillynoodles ♡

credits: ⛈

[sashi-ya]

𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺 ⛈ [chapter 2: nothing goes as planned] 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⇝ Interactive fic format welcome to the second chapter! remember, this is an interactive fic! how does it work? by the end of the chapter you will find a poll section where you will be able to vote for what's coming in the next one! what will reader do? what will be the consequences? have fun! ⇝ tw: the story is set to be an awakening for reader. you will find topics as loneliness, hints of depression and suicidal tendencies. be specially careful if this topics are triggering for you. This chapter contains: suggestive language, not fully +18. Alcohol usage. airplane vocabulary, nothing too fancy. ⇝ don't forget to vote at the end of every chapter! ⇝ masterlist

“Please, my plans aren’t more important that any life?” you scoff, as you climb the few steps of the plane ladder. “My plans are more important than most of the lives of all of you”

You turn around, making your hair swift with the motion. What an attractive devil Law has right in front of him…

“If you are scared to fly, just say it” you keep mocking him, letting your body weight be only carried by your right arm that gripped the little handle on the plane’s fuselage.

Law’s eyes fix on yours. His frown intensifies, and you can clearly read his mind; “what an immature, whimsical woman she is” -or maybe, that’s just your inner voice.

A sudden blinding light strikes you both, followed by a loud strong explosive noise. You jump, scared, letting go of the handle… falling back; right in warm, strong arms.

“Tch… it was just thunder” he huffs, holding you tightly.

You can see his sharp mandible, the muscles of his neck. The scent of his skin, perfumed with soft manly notes, reaches your nostrils; and for the first time in months the muscles on your lower belly, spasm.

“You surely want to die, don’t you… (Name)-ya?” he mutters; while helping you stand back on your feet.

Had you fall in any other situation, probably nobody had been able to catch you; but tonight, as if everything that had been happening today was a damn analogy, you fell in -and probably for- the arms of a tattooed angel.

“Boss. Call me boss… and thank you” you start your speech annoyed, you finished embarrassed. You stand back up, feeling your skin complain as his hands abandon  your arms.

“You aren’t my boss. Get in the plane, it’s dangerous to stay here. We could be strike by lighting if we are outside” he grunts, looking away from your clearly hot -ashamed- cheeks.

Quickly, you climb the ladder again. This time, you immediately get inside the plane. Safe and sound, with your heart racing and your insides… shaking.

You sit on the first office seat in the cockpit, looking at everything else but him. A slight tremble takes over your hands, and you still have no exactly idea why.

“Checklist?” you mumble, extending your arm towards him as he sits right by your side.

Law sits back, relaxed.

“You still wanna fly after all…” he laughs, sarcastically. “Shouldn’t you start by fastening your seatbelt? he continues, stretching over the middle console towards you.

Inked hands skilfully -and goddamn sexily- grab the seatbelt to tighten it around your hips and over your lower belly.

Yet again, your muscles tense. And your core, begs you to give it some kind of relief.

“I can do it myself” you grunt. “You can, but you won’t do it. Apparently I am here to babysit you, rather than flying” he says, crossing a limit nobody dared to cross before with you.

Too stunned to speak, your eyelid twitches. In between wanting to slit his throat with your nails and letting him keep humiliating you… you chose to stay silent.

The roaring sky ahead catches your attention, leaving the bodily demands aside.

“Let’s go” you order. “Let’s go…” he complies.

A soft vibrating motion takes over your body as the plane engines turn on; the nose faces the private runway ahead and it’s a matter of minutes since you begin to race to be airborne. Of course, illegally… that’s it.

The stronger winds play with the flexible wings while still on the ground, and the last checks before the departure get the best of your attention.

But, not everything seems to be going your way -that is, of course, if you underestimate the weather conditions-.

Law proceeds to check an essential part of the aircraft; two devices that basically allow the plane to fly.

His hands, turn on the switch. But it does nothing. He does it again. Nothing.

“Flaps not working” Law informs. “Wha- FLAPS NOT WORKING?” you protest, believing it has to be some kind of joke or him being not well trained enough.

But in fact, Law was not wrong. And your old trusty freedom device, has a tremendous failure that wont allow you to fly.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK?!” you scream, with the plane still taxiing towards the needed position on the runway.

Law, amazed, looks at you with open eyes. It is, perhaps, the first time you have let someone else to see such reaction; you are known for being serious and of course, put up while being under stressful situations.

Not only the flaps check fails, but also engine number one stops all of a sudden. There is, at least to you, no possible cause for this happening but destiny playing its part to annoy you.  

“Nothing seems to go as planned” Law scoffs, however this time a little bit creeped out. Had that failure taken place during the crucial moments of the flight, consequences would have been a lot more serious.

“Fuck this shit” you repeat, as both of you stop the remaining working engine and you take your headset off with a non-very womanly manner.

The truth is that you are both on that -useless- metallic capsule, stranded on the middle of the runway. With no, now, possible way to go back to the hangar.

“I’m getting off this shit” you spit, venously. “With pouring rain AND a high chance of getting stricken by lightning?” Law says, getting comfortable as he is prepared to wait for the storm to pass until going back.

You sigh. A sign of tiredness and weakness? Maybe. But you just can’t deal with this yourself anymore. That important meeting you had in London, really needed to be attended.

“You know what? Never mind. You are right” you stand up, crawling on top of the middle console. Legs are exhibited, legs are shown off. Your legs are adored by Law’s steel eyes.

You walk towards the back of the jet; for your comfort, just two rows of seats have been left and the rest have been taken away to give enough space for the remaining seats to be extended as beds.

You flop into one of them, playing with the buttons on the arm rest to adjust your seat to you preference. Your legs needed a rest. Your head, as well.

Law, who is still on the copilot’s seat, admires in awe every of your movements. Is he allowed to sit next to you? to turn his seat to the bed settings, too?

“If you want something to drink, grab yourself something from the fridge on the right” you mumble, with your left forearm covering your eyes and your right index pointing at the minibar section on your side.

Law, like a snow leopard does during winter storms, slides silently to the back.

He is, probably, not thirsty for drinks quite exactly. But, he scans the mini fridge anyway.

The only light that is now shining inside is the one coming from the minibar. And of course, the thunder outside.

From champagne to the finest liquors, there is a wide range of alcoholic elixirs. Swiss chocolate, and various snacks are also there for him to grab.

“Wait, you might be a little too young to drink” you stand up, just a little, to look at him. Trying to piss him off, maybe as a way of entertaining yourself while the plane rocks softly to the wind storm outside.

“I’m perfectly legal, what-“ Law seems confused, he is not sure if you are joking or not. In any case, and moved by those daring simple words, he picks the strongest liquor to drink.

You smirk, just a little. You are still a boss…  “No glasses, bring the bottle”

Law also smirks; “right from the bottle? She must be desperate”

You sit comfortably, while he does the same right by your side. The fuselage is anything but spacious, but it is enough for you two to fit at least a few inches from the other.

“You go first… lady” he murmurs, giving you the heavy bottle of thousands of euros.

You snatch it off from his tattooed hand, nails scratching his palm making his skin to turn all bumpy.

The plop of the crystal plug and the immediate ethyl scent reaches your nostrils.  It smells like a tomorrow’s headache, like a pain on your right side of your body and of course of many bad decisions to be taken from now on.

And there it goes, the first drop and the following and the next one, reaching your lips and tongue, burning its pass through your throat. It floods your worries, or maybe it make them even worse.

Thing is, the right hand of that inked hottie finally takes the bottle of your lips with a soft but precise snatch.

“My turn” he mutters, fixing his intense eyes on your already blurred ones.

“Just a little, I must warn you… it’s strong” you urge.

He scoffs, and with a sexy smirk he tips up the bottle.

You can’t help but bite a little bit of your inside of your mouth, as he swallows that alcoholic liquid. The way his Adam’s apple move with each gulp, and the muscles of his neck moving along with it… it is just pure erotic artistry.

“Maybe that’s what I like the most about this… deadly, strong but also a little bit weak” he says, with an even raspier low voice. Because sure, he was making a comment on your liquor..

You shake your head to ease the enchantment; but the shiny lips that he now shows off are making you nervous.

“My. Turn.” You word, even if that seemed difficult to do. “You are trying to get drunk, (Name)-ya?” he laughs, shaking the bottle right by your nose and taking it away from you while your clumsy hands try to grab it.

Yet again, humiliated. Why can’t I react? Why my body keeps moving on its own? Am I a girl trying to take a toy from another kid?

You crawl a little on top of the armrests that separates your chair from his. Your skirt lifts just a little, but still exposing more than what Law could have asked for. Your shirt, that has stopped looking professional, opens just enough to make the man in front of you on the verge of hardness.

“Give it back” you order -plead-. “Say please” Law takes the risk, and orders you back.

You open your eyes bigger, noticing how close your bodies have become.

“Please, give it back” you mutter, embarrassing yourself once more.

Law smiles, this time looking like a demon. “Open wide, you are already a little tipsy… just a little bit would be enough”

Without hesitation you open your mouth; your tongue, a little outside your mouth, rests on your lower lip. Like a thirsty, brainless slave of him, you wait.

“That’s…” Law gasps. He wasn’t expecting such reaction. “Ok… then, open wide…”

[honey-minded-hivemind]

Y'all remember Cult of the First Mutant AU, right? So, hahaha... imagine if Reader ends up in the X-Men world (Evolution, TAS/97, etc.), because they're the first person who's supposes to fix it or make things better. And now they're trying to avoid dying, not be killed or hated by the people they're trying to help + their world's awful governments and police and secret organizations, and they also can't go back home and are extremely lonely.

They have a normal appearance, and then a "divine" appearance. Normal appearance is a wet cat of a teen or young adult, who wears glasses, has floofy hair, and likes to wear fun sweaters and T-shirts, and wears a ring and some earrings, then there's their "divine" appearance... some being with four blazing eyes, six bright, large wings (that aren't feathered), at least two pairs of arms, and a two tails + claws... maybe a pair of horns, or a fiery halo...

And they have no clue how to access their "mutant" form, leaving them to start plotting like they're Odysseus from the Odyssey trying to survive with 600 idiots in tow and just as many problems trying to kill them all...