#⛈⛈

[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

[hyphrus]

♡

Ena5 Mizuena layout

Not requested/self indulgent

Matching on main with pookie... ^_^

Creds required, reblogs and likes appreciated

[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

[mammonswhore]

The Day Before the Test

tags: Satan x afab!fem!mc.

warnings: cockwarming, soft dominant behavior, studying, overstimulation, established relationship, very fluffy and domestic at the end.

"Fuck..." Satan grunts as his fingers sink on MC´s flesh as she tries to keep steady and keep on reading. That´s what this was all about.

"I can´t... Is too much" She whines, bouncing (or trying to do so) on a foolish attempt to get some sort of movement or reaction from him. Sadly her attempts were shut down as Satan´s fangs sank on her shoulder making her yelp in pain.

"You look so whorish like this, love." He says sadly, grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him sideways. "I am sorry but you should´ve studied and I wouldn´t have to be doing this."

His voice sounds silk smooth, as if he were soothing the scars of his nails on her hips. He sounds angelic even for someone born from wrath. Satan is lovely, he is a gentleman and a man of honor so he can´t let his precious girlfriend to fail.

"It´s for your own good" He said when he proposed his idea. It worked, it really did. Satan promised MC to try on tail fucking if she passed her test with more than average and since he is a caring boyfriend he offered himself to help. MC thought of flashcards, timers, his own notes even but not cockwarming him for two and a half hours as she read and took notes from her study books.

Tears accumulate on her eyes, it´s been two hours of shaking, whining and pleading yet he seemed so calm and composed. MC couldn´t take it anymore, a choked sob escaping her as she collapsed on his desk.

"The mitochondrion has two membranes, one internal and one external, in the middle of them there is an intermembrane where there are protons that adhere to the smallest proteins to pass to the internal membrane and reach the mitochondrial cristae... Please... Please just..." MC talks between cries, begging for him.

There were no other words to describe it other than pathetic yet for Satan it was lovely, soothing even. Slowly he caressed her cheek and nodded with a smile. Satan pulled his chair back, his hands traveled to the back of MC´s thigh as he quickly stood up making her tears flow as a loud painful erupted from her throat.

"Can you walk?" He asks softly, putting her down to the floor and twirling her to face him. She nods and walks to Satan´s bed, a few steps that were quick yet they seemed like an eternity for both of them. MC sat on the edge of the bed looking drained and oh so divine. Satan could swear he could gobble her up, to him there was nothing more heavenly than her.

"Change of idea... You are going to ride me because I am still not sure if you have learned enough. Hop in, pretty girl." He smirks as he sits down and pulls her by the waist, she whines in complain and positions herself to sink him in in one sitting.

Satan interlocks their hands together as his free hand pushes her down on him, she moans and babbles little thank you´s repeatedly as Satan did all the effort of bouncing her up and down on him.

The sound of skin against skin filled the room, Satan´s moans were muffled as he bit down on MC´s breasts, twirling his tongue around her nipple. She shudders as she bounces herself in, pushing him down to the bed, he complies and is mesmerized with the view on top of him.

She bewitched him in all senses, his mind clouded with the fervor of having her in such a filthy manner. She was the only delusion he could fully indulge in without losing his pride, his affection knew no bounds if it was his one and only lover.

Satan grabbed MC´s waist as he started thrusting into her at a hurry, he couldn´t concentrate on anything anymore as she stabilized herself on his chest. Her back arched at the pleasure, as soon as he was sure she wouldn´t fall off, his hand traveled from her waist to her center to stimulate her so her walls could suck him dry. MC´s body jolts briefly as her orgasm approaches, her whines and moans get louder as she pleads mercy from him.

To her, Satan was completely lost on his element. Some of his blonde hair strands were sticking to his forehead, green eyes half lidded as he only stared at her in awe, mouth open gasping for air, cheeks flushed red, his neck was full of bites and scratches and so were his shoulders, MC could see exactly were their skins met. His free hand sank on her flesh, his grip cutting a little wound on her body making MC cry in pain. The feeling of her orgasm hitting her as pain and pleasure became one, the sensation only being topped with the overstimulation of Satan thrusting inside of her at a ferocious pace to reach for his own orgasm with a loud squealing noise.

Both of them panted as MC´s body gave up completely and fell on top of Satan who remained quiet as he hugged her tightly feeling himself go soft inside of her.

"Was this a heads up for when I have to study 'how to seduce a demon to give me his kids' lesson 1: be me" MC says tiredly, making Satan laugh and squeeze her.

"Shut up, if you want my kids so badly then better get studying because I will not have kids with a lazy procrastinating ass like yours." Satan jokes back getting himself a lazy slap on his chest, making him chuckle.

"Fine! But only because our kids will hate me if I make them stupid."

[insinirate]

how im tryna fuckin be

[ad-caelestia]

@windvexer replied to your post “alright yall - im home from work today because my...”:

bunny??

bunny!

[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

[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...

[revasserium]

. . . ༄ W I N D B R E A K E R

s u o h a y a t o

know, know better - sfw; fluff, 3.6k words

at first sight - sfw; fluff/angst, 6.2k words

teach me, teach me - nsfw; senpai-kink!suo, 2.5k words

you - sfw; stalker!suo, 5.8k words

s a k u r a h a r u k a

hurricane - sfw; fluff; 1.8k words

u m e m i y a h a j i m e

burn - sfw, fluff; 3.3k words

m u l t i

the beautiful and damned - sakura, suo; sfw; injured!reader headcanons

[tales-from-syscord]

we were in a syscord back when they were at their peak, we joined it in 2020 and a few months after, these two systems had started talking to us, it took about a year for it to really take off and we started officially dating in 2021, both were very affectionate towards us, eventually having almost all our alters in a relationship with alters from both systems, then was revealed in 2022 by someone we were close to that our relationship was extremely toxic, and we didnt even realise it at the time but we went from 40 alters to now over 300, and they pointed out how they were secretly endo “systems”, that made us instantly cut all contact with them, they both never faced any consequences from the syscord we met them in, even though it was anti endo

(F, A, and O from 💎⛈ Collective)

Holy crap

Okay yeah, there should have been a million+ consequences and we are glad that you cut all contact with them and hopefully haven't had to deal with anything like that since