#✗—lights up and they know who you are; do you know who you are (photo)

[mywritersmind]

ALL’S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - LN4

↳ pt.1

summary : Its the vacation of your dreams! With your best friends, rich men, live music, and flowing drinks, nothing can ruin it. Even if a certain Formula 1 driver (who seems to have an affinity for annoying you) is there every step of the sandy way.

listen up : suggestive themes! swearing! ‘enemies’ to lovers. probably my last sunny vacation fic for a while! get ready for winter fics!! cmt to be tagged in pt. 2 <3

word count : 4570

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“Y/n!” Kika throws a pillow onto me. I groan in response, pulling the blanket over my head, “Get up! Get up! We’re leaving in thirty!”

I fall off the bed and start my rushed process of getting ready, we’re in Marmaris, Turkey for a little holiday. A holiday that I've been promised is for friends, yet every friend I have is with a man.

Kika, Alex, Rebecca, and Lily promised they would act like single ladies with me! That’s clearly not true because of the love they have for their boyfriends and how those same men never leave their sides.

The only other addition is someone I don’t want to talk about. Someone who’s a pain in my ass and the construction to my headache.

I’m instantly in a better mood when my friends and I start taking photos and making tik toks. I’m in a light blue dress and sandals, my skin is practically yearning to be tan but that will start tomorrow.

I have my own hotel room which I intend to spend no time in unless I'm hooking up with a hot turkish man. Lily holds my hand as we start walking. The guys said they would meet us there and I’ll never not treasure time with my girls.

The sun has already set but the sky is still a dark blue and orange. Lily squeals next to me, she’s in the cutest white mini dress, “I can’t believe we’re here!”

Kika laughs in a long yellow dress, “The trip literally made it out of the group chat!”

I eye them, “More like it was infiltrated by another groups chat!” Alex laughs and puts her hand on my arm.

“I promise it’ll be fun. I know you’re a little sad but we’ll find you someone!”

“It’s not even that- I just want to be with you guys.” They all seem a bit sad about it. It’s not like I don’t like their boyfriends, I consider them my friends too! It’s just that I was really looking forward to some much needed girl time.

“You are with us!” Alexandra frowns.

Lily swings are hands, “You’re with us and five other idiots who have money!”

This makes me laugh as we make it to the restaurant. It’s beautiful, part of the hotel, and looking right over the water.

The guys are already sitting. Charles, Pierre, Alex, Carlos all smile at me, kissing their girls as we sit. There is one missing, though. It’s hard to ignore but I'm definitely not complaining.

Drinks are ordered and our thoughts about the hotel is passed around. I became friends with this group through Lily, we grew up together and when Alex suggested I should come to a grand prix, I was hooked.

The other girls took to me immediately and were so excited to have another friend that they actually like. I don’t travel as much as them, but I do see them often enough.

We haven’t gotten together in a group like this though in forever!

I sip on my cocktail and talk to Carlos as his eyes stray past me. I turn to look at what he’s distracted by and have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

You know those people who just really piss you off? The type that just irks you even though you’ve tried to hear your friends out?

That is how I feel about Lando Norris.

He strolls up to our table as if he isn’t late. He’s in blue jeans and a white button down that’s definitely not buttoned enough. His hair is messy and looks like he just woke up, “Hey.” Is all he says before plopping down next to Carlos and sipping his water.

Rebecca already sends me a look that screams, ‘Leave it.’ So I do, I order my food and talk to my friends while avoiding the man two seats down from me.

It’s not just that Lando bugs me, It’s that he’s repeatedly cocky and flat out annoying. He teases me any chance he gets and it never fails to ruin my day. He knows it too.

“What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Pierre asks as he puts his arm around Kikas chair, everyone’s food is nearly gone and I'm more than ready to climb into my plushy hotel bed.

Alex holds Lily’s hand, “Beach, explore, eat? That’s also my plan for every day of our trip.”

Charles nods, “My buddy has a boat out here that he said we can borrow one day.”

I smile and lean my head on Kika’s shoulder, “I'll be anywhere you guys go, with a book and an apple.”

“You still into that?” His voice already pisses me off. I look at Lando who’s staring at me, “Reading.”

I blink. “Are you still into being illiterate?”

Charles covers his laugh with a cough as Alexandra shakes her head, “Hey! You two need to keep it civil this trip.”

Carlos eyes Lando pointedly as he groans, “Why? I didn’t even do anything! The witch said I was illiterate!”

I sit up straighter immediately, leaning over Carlos as my friends talk in a haze around me, “You really wanna see a witch, Norris, I’ll fucking show you!”

“The worst thing you could do to me is throw sand in my face!” I groan as he rolls his eyes and Kika pulls me back into my seat.

“This is what we’re talking about!” When she whispers is when I realize the people dining around us are staring.

“It’s one week!” Pierre shakes his head, “One week of peace!”

I don’t dare look at Lando, my arms crossed.

He gives in peace, “I won’t start anything if she won’t.”

“Perfect, I'll have a great trip of silence.” Fine by me. I can ignore him for a week, easy.

Lily and Rebecca exchange looks as Lando speaks again, “It’ll be nice not hearing your-” Carlos slaps his arm and he shuts up.

I sigh in my seat, this is going to be an interesting week.

⋆༺

I start off my first full day with breakfast. I’m up early and decided to make the most of it by enjoying my food with a beach view.

I grin when I see that there’s two pieces of bacon left, grabbing them swiftly and plopping it onto my plate just when someone goes to reach for it.

I look up to see Lando. He’s sweaty and in running clothes, looking at me annoyed per usual, “Seriously? Who takes the last two pieces?”

I raise a brow, “Me. You literally just saw me do it.”

He gives me a bored expression, “Didn’t you ever get taught manners?”

“I got taught how to get what I want.” I bite into the piece of bacon just to watch him flinch. “Weren’t you taught that it’s not nice to be insufferable?”

“Can’t you share? It’s one piece.” I take another bite, pretending to think.

“Hm… No!”

“We’re supposed to be civil. Friends even!” He steps closer, “I know you would give the piece to Lily.”

“You’re too greedy.” I finish the first piece of bacon and start to walk away. He scoffs and follows me.

“Me!? Greedy?” He scoffs, plate still in hand. I eye it, it’s mostly empty except for a nutella crepe, “You know what- never mind.”

I nod, “Great job being civil, Norris. I’m so proud of you and you for giving up.”

He does not find this funny, “I can’t stand you.”

“Then sit.” His eyes narrow at my words.

“Fuck it, Free will!” and with that, he grabs the piece of bacon off my plate and runs!

“Norris!” I yell after him but when he turns, he’s smiling with a mouth full of bacon. “Dickhead.” I mumble to myself and continue getting my food.

⋆༺

I’m warm, I'm tipsy, and I'm listening to live music. I don’t think life could get any better. I sit up on my beachside chair, lifting my sunglasses to see Lily, Alex, Charles, and Alexandra playing chicken in the water.

Kika stirs next to me, she was asleep on her stomach but slowly sits up when she hears our friends laughing.

I watch Lando and Pierre floating and Carlos swimming towards them. Rebecca went to get drinks so that just leaves Kika and I.

“How’s the whole ‘civil’ thing going?” She’s in an orange bikini that makes her look unfairly tan.

I shrug, “Bad? I just can’t imagine talking to him normally. We always fight.” I sip my drink, the glass coats my hand in condensation but it cools me down.

“Maybe you should just fuck.” I choke on my drink. She doesn’t even attempt to hide her laugh, “Sorry, Sorry!”

“Kika!” I slow my breathing, “Why would you say that!?”

“It makes sense! You’ve got a lot of pent up energy… I’m just saying!” I shake my head, pulling my sunglasses back on and laying down again. “I know you’re attracted to him.”

I pray that she thinks my cheeks are red from the sun, and not from her words. “I am not.”

“You can't lie to me!” She laughs, “It’s not a bad thing, Y/n. You both just need to shut up for two seconds and get eachother shirtless.” Lily walks up right as she says that.

She plops down onto the sand, “Whatever this is about- I agree!”

“She’s trying to get me to- Nope! I’m not even going to say it!” I can’t have that manifestation in my life.

“I think she should hook up with Lando.”

“Completely agree. Just make it quick.”

“If he’s with her, he’s gonna be quick.” Kika jokes and I actually laugh at that one.

“Okay enough! I’m not taking any advice from you two!” I stand, pulling my hair tie out of my hair and starting down the beach.

“Think about it!” Lily yells as I flip her off.

Now all I can think about is hooking up with him. I mean, I hate the dude, but I’m not blind.

Lando is fucking fit. But it’s hard for me to see past his assholeness. So the probability that i’m going to fuck him, is slim. Very slim. Like ZERO.

Just as I'm off in my Lando Norris shirtless world, a shirtless Lando Norris walks up to me. He’s exiting the ocean, pushing his wet curls back as he laughs with Carlos.

I look away as soon as I get a glimpse of his torso. The cool water feels great on my legs as I walk in the ocean. I sink down and dunk my head, opening my eyes underwater, I see the tiny fish and shells.

I reach down and grab a handful of sand, when I get air again, Carlos and Lando are next to me. I push the sand off my hand to reveal some shells and a tiny crab, “Aw!” I smile at it, showing it to the boys.

Carlos raises his brows, “Looks harmful.”

“Harmful?” I glance at him, “He’s a baby!” I hold it closer to him and he backs away like it’s going to jump on him.

I turn to Lando and do the same, he backs away as well, “Pussy.” I say it to his face and he clearly takes it as a challenge.

He holds his hand out and snatches the crab right from my hand, “Are you just a thief by nature?”

He gives me a look before bringing his hand closer to his face to examine the sea creature. I step closer to see it, “It’s adorable.”

“It’s a crab.”

“Thank you, Norris, for your insightful words of wisdom.” I go to take it back from him but he jumps and throws his hand down.

I let out a huge laugh when I realized it’s holding onto his thumb, “Shit! Ow!”

I keep laughing as Lando panics, swinging his hand around to try to get it off. Carlos is long gone by now, not amused by his friends' antics.

The crab finally unclips itself from Lando and he looks like he was just betrayed. I grin, “Maybe I am a witch!”

He looks me up and down, holding his hand and thinking. “If you call me a bitch that crab won’t be the worst thing that hurts you today.”

And then something weird happens.

He smiles.

He just smiles and walks away.

⋆༺

LANDO

Marmaris is stunning. The water is clear and besides me getting bitten, I'm having a great time. We end up going into town to get lunch and I'm faced with the issue of Y/n’s ass in my face as we walk up what feels like a million stairs.

I really feel like she’s doing this on purpose but I could be thinking that to just make myself feel better about checking her out.

She’s in tiny low waisted jean shorts. I can see her bikini bottoms peeking out from the sides. Her top is a crocheted cover up so her sliver of a bathing suit is still on display.

Carlos pushes my back when I slow down on the steps, I turn around to swear at him but he’s giving me an all knowing look so I close my mouth.

After what feels like hours of staring at Y/n’s backside, we make it to the lunch place. It’s hidden quite far up and we all get cramped into the room with a huge window and a view of lemon trees.

With our stupidly coupled up group, I'm forced to sit with Y/n. She’s across from me, sipping on her water and leaning on the table with her arms crossed.

When she notices I'm staring at her, she glares at me. I can tell she’s about to say something snappy, but eyes our friends and shuts her mouth.

As much as she pissed me off, I find it fun to annoy her. I like the way her cheeks heat and how her lips press together, but I would never admit that to her.

“Did you go for a run this morning?” Carlos asks me while shoveling food into his mouth.

“Yeah and the gym- it’s nice.”

“And quiet?” I nod, knowing what he means. Five Formula 1 drivers on vacation together is pretty hard to miss. But besides a stare or two, no one has said anything to us.

Lily claps her hands together, “Who wants to go golfing with me on wed-”

Y/n groans, putting her head in her hands, “No!” Kika looks horrified at the suggestion as well.

“Yes!” Carlos and I say at the same time. Lily has been a great addition to our golfing group and by far the best out of the three of us.

Rebecca laughs, “I’m with Y/n on this one. I’m feeling… spa?” This immediately perks Y/n up.

“That sounds perfect!” Alex smiles, “Girls day! Minus Lily because she’s actually good at a sport.”

Charles eyes us all, “I wanna go to the spa. I hate golfing.”

⋆༺

YOU

When Rebecca suggested we take a cooking class, I thought it was a great idea! I’m not the best cook so why not learn something? I had a bad feeling as soon as we entered and the room was decorated with hearts.

“Welcome! Welcome!” A man ushers us in along with two other groups. The room is large with one wall completely open and facing the beach. “Everybody get a table and we shall begin!”

“I knew I missed something on the website…” Alex cringes as we stare at the tables set for two, “Sorry? Lando, careful with Y/n and knives!”

A couples cooking class!? You’ve got to be kidding. I look at Lando the same time he turns to me, “Well, love… Let me handle the sharp things. I value my life.”

This is going to be the longest hour ever.

“My lovely people in love!” The man is short, with gray hair and the biggest smile I've seen in a while, “My name is Ali and today we begin making the dough for Kemal Pasha!” Apparently the kind we’re making is sweet balls of dough with a very delicious sounding syrup.

I’m standing next to Lando who’s struggling with his apron. They have huge heart pockets and his is bright green. As fun as it is to see him struggle, I want to start cooking soon.

“Give me that.” I swat his hands away and step behind him, taking the pieces of fabric and tying a knot.

“Thank you, Sweetness.” I suspect that this teasing won’t end soon, considering the man teaching the class asked everyone what their names were and put a name tag on each table of the couples ‘ship’ name.

I tie it tight and he flinches, “Hey my girl is trying to kill me!” I roll my eyes and loosen the bow, listening to the man and thanking the woman who’s walking around to make sure everything is correct.

I pour in all the ingredients and Lando starts stirring. I look around at all the couples, they’re doing everything together while looking all lovey dovey.

It makes me miss my ex. Which is weird because we barely acted like this alone. But still, seeing Alex and Lily laugh with flour already on their faces makes me sad.

“Angel!” Lando calls for me again as I put my hand on my hip. He has his hand out that’s covered in white powder, “C’mere!”

“No!” I back up but he’s already pulling me in and squeezing my face. I frown, my face squished between his hand as he laughs. I can feel the flour covering my face. I put on a slow smile when he drops his hand, “Aw, love bug!”

Nothing about my tone is loving and I can tell he’s not excited by the way his face drops. “Now darling…” He backs away as I pour some of the flour from the container into my hand, “I told you i’ll let you lick food off of me later, not here!”

I scoff at his audacity and throw the flour right into his face. When he opens his eyes, I slap my hands over my mouth. His whole face is white and when he breathes out, some comes out of his mouth.

I hold back a laugh as he stares at me, along with the rest of the room, “Oh baby… you’ve got a little.” I motion to his whole face, “Just a little something right there.”

“Er…” The man blinks at us, “True love comes in many forms!” He laughs uncomfortably as we get back to mixing our dough.

“That was not a fair move, Love.” Lando whispers to me as I knead the dough between my hands. His face is wiped off but the flour still resides a bit in his hair and cheeks.

“All's fair in love and war.” I say sweetly.

“Alright ladies, If your man isn’t helping you with his big strong muscles…” Ali eyes us, “Remind them who you are! Men, help your women!”

I turn back at Lando, looking up at the driver, “Do you need reminding?”

He just bites his lip and turns me back around, his hands on my waist. That, I did not expect. My hands go back to the dough in the bowl and his arms move into view, copying the other couples and massaging the treat with me.

I swallow and eye the veins in his arms that go all the way to his hands. His very big hands. The same hands that softly reach over mine.

His touch is surprisingly gentle as he matches my movements. I try to not think about how close he is to me, and focus on the dough but fuck that because I can feel him behind me.

I move back a bit unconsciously and his hand goes to waist to stop me, “Do you need reminding?” His voice is deep in my ear and I fight the urge to roll my eyes even though I know my cheeks are hot.

I thank god when Ali says we will be moving onto rolling the dough into little balls.

I swiftly move away from Lando and don’t dare look at Alex or Kika who I know is looking at us. I start rolling the dough in between my hands.

Lando glances at me, his balls sort of uneven and too small, “Your balls are ugly.” Lando chokes on air and whips his head around to look at me.

“Excuse me?” I roll my eyes at his suggestive tone and show him one of mine, “Ah so you’re a ball expert? Working from experience?”

He’s so childish it makes me want to throw one of these at him. Sadly, I'm not above acting suggestively, “Never worked with any so small.” I shrug as he stares at me. That shuts him up really quick as we place them on a round baking sheet.

We take a short break while they bake and I venture outside, looking over the balcony to the sea far below us.

My skin feels rejuvenated by the sun, I’m tanner and I swear the air is just different here. Alex appears next to me, he looks quite happy, “Having fun?”

I shrug and realize that I actually have been. “Uh… yeah.”

“You know, I think everyone else thinks you’re a real couple. It’s cute.” I gape at him. Is Alexander Albon betraying me right now?

“It is not cute. He’s bullying me.” He just snorts.

“Sure…”

I frown when Ali calls us back in. Lando and I are mostly quiet while stirring our syrup. As it boils, he nudges me. I look up to see him watching another couple.

They’re practically making out and feeling eachother up. I let out a laugh that his eyes widened at, “You’re so not inconspicuous.” He whispers, leaning down a bit.

“They are definitely not paying any attention to me…” They’re so wrapped up in each other that they don’t even notice when Ali turns their mini stove top off so their sauce doesn’t burn.

He looks down at me one last time, sending me a tiny smile. I think it’s the first time I'm genuinely attracted to him when his shirt is still on. Shit.

⋆༺

LANDO

Besides Y/n trying to kill me with the dessert we made, we were civil throughout the rest of the class. We get to take home a small box which leaves everyone in a good mood.

“Here, pretty, I don’t think I can eat that without feeling sick.” I don’t mean to call her that, but I just say what comes to my mind. I hand her the box and takes it without any change of expression.

I’m ready to leave but Ali claps his hands together one more time, “My lovebirds!” Y/n gives me a look that I laugh at, “One more gift for a very special couple of… well, couples!”

He pulls out three pieces of paper. Handing one to the couple that was making out he says, “Most affectionate!”

Then he turns to Pierre and Kila and hands them one, “Best dessert!” I realize these papers are some typos of superlatives.

I think he’s going to go to Charles and Alexandra, but he turns to Y/n and I. A big grin on his face, he hands me a paper. I read it before he says it and my eyes widen, “The most authentic love!” I don’t look at her, I can’t.

“I hope one day you all come back!” And with that, we’re ushered back and stripped of our aprons.

Y/n is already walking down the marble steps with Lily and Rebecca next to her. Carlos just shakes his head and slaps his hand on my shoulder, “Man… Congratulations!”

I eye him as Alex laughs, “I’m framing that!”

⋆༺

YOU

Six hours later, i’m in a tiny white dress, my hair curled and makeup done, and on my way with Rebecca and Alex to a club.

Everyone’s already left but Alex took extra long to slick back her hair. “So!” Rebecca grins as we walk past the beach, “Plan for tonight? Hook up with a local? Make out on the beach?”

I laugh at her enthusiasm, “I’ll see where the night and vodka takes me! I really just need a hot dance partner and a good drink.”

And that’s exactly what I get. I get my drink and well.. many hot dance partners! My friends and I scream the lyrics of the songs we know, holding hands and jumping around.

The club is part of the resort we’re staying at. It’s half on the beach and half in the beach bar that has a 24 hour drink service. I laugh at the guys who are awkwardly waiting for their girls to join them again.

“Okay, go, go!” They leave me at the bar and as soon as they’re gone, a man approaches me.

He’s very tall and very blonde, “Hi.” he’s got an accent but I can’t tell from where, “I couldn’t help but notice you dancing…” I listen to the same line that a hundred guys have fed me before. “Could I buy you a drink?”

Now this is what I like! Ten minutes later I'm dancing with him and a vodka lemonade. His hands are on my waist as I laugh.

He’s hot against me, his hair sweaty and salty. His name is Leon and he really likes my dress. I have a feeling he would like me without it too.

“Are you staying at the hotel?” He asks, screaming in my ear.

I nod, “Are you?”

“I’m staying in town with a friend!” I nod and sip my drink as he talks, “Do you know him?” I frown at his words, turning to see who he’s talking about.

I roll my eyes at Lando who’s standing with a pretty girl but staring at me. I turn back to Leon, “No!”

He looks like this annoys him, “Well i’m not surprised! You’re hot!” I nod as the music continues and keep dancing with him.

He turns me around so he’s staring at my ass instead of my face. But I just slip my fingers into my hair and keep dancing. I open my eyes to see Lando again. The girl is still talking but he’s still staring at me.

I run my middle finger around the rim of my glass, the sugar lifting onto my skin. His expression stays dark and focused on me as his hand goes to his jeans pocket. I lift my finger to lips, licking off the sugar without breaking eye contact.

He brings his drink to his lips and that’s when I realize I've had a bit too much to drink because he looks too damn hot.

He’s in a light blue shirt, his silver rings and LN4 necklace sat on his skin like it belongs there. His hair is damp with I don’t know with what… sweat, water, or the air, I don’t care. His jaw ticks at Leon’s hand moves from my waist to my stomach, my head dropping back on his shoulder, and spinning back around.

He kisses me, it’s messy and drunken but I don’t care. It’s only when he whispers, “Let’s get out of here.” When I'm massively turned off.

I end up back with my friends, Lando nowhere in sight and a smile on my face as we sit at the bar and drink.

[daenysx]

Okay blurb req for old money!Aemond who is ALSO a model for really expensive brands and his gf is a photographer👀 inspired by the photoshoot and that one specific blue leopard print pic🙂‍↕️🤭

oh my god i hope i did well, thank you, rue !! <33333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

cw; modern!aemond being a hopeless romantic, suggestive, kisses, no but he's really so in love it hurts, photographer!reader and model!aemond can be a new favorite wow

"are you sure this is professional?"

aemond has no shame, honestly. you don't think you can be expected to be 'professional' when your boyfriend looks like he'll ruin your entire existence by looking like the most charming being in the entire universe.

his blue eyes sparkle in the latest photos you take, a stark contrast with his platinum blonde hair. flowy strands make you want to pull aemond to yourself enough to give him a good kiss on his neck as your fingers travel in his hair. maybe you can do that when you get to be alone with him. oh, you'll definitely do that when you're alone.

"i believe i'm extremely professional." you murmur, holding his hand to make him pose the way you want. "if you stop being so distracting, it'll be even better."

he smirks. a small quirk of lovely lips, he's handsome and he knows it. he leans into your space and your hold on your camera tightens. you will not kiss him. you can't, there are other people here, and this is business. you take a step back.

"i'm only doing what you tell me to do." he says like he's the most innocent man. "you can't say i'm not being good."

you give him a small smile. he's in the mood for playing.

"i didn't say that." you say, quietly. "come on, a few more for me and we'll be done."

aemond fixes his posture, your one hand still holding his. "of course." he says, coolly. "you know i can actually be good for you. as many as you want, you'll have it."

you lick your lips to control your face expressions. not the time, not the place. just like you say to him, only a few more and you'll be done.

the clothes he's wearing make aemond look taller as if it's actually possible. you admire his poses, his confidence and his awareness of how good he looks. he turns his head for another picture, his eyes following your every move. it's like a wordless conversation between you two.

"can i get one with a smile?" you ask him, your hand directing his last pose. "not too wide, just- a subtle one, please."

"i'm afraid that's not possible if i'm going to give you a smile." he flirts. "maybe you should let someone else take the photo if you need a subtle one."

you hear two girls giggling at the corner. he really thinks he's so fun, doesn't he? it's his world here, he knows how to charm his way and he certainly knows how to be a flirt. you're thankful he's already yours, it would be impossible to handle him otherwise.

after another fifteen minutes, you're all done. you go next to aemond, leaving your camera. people around you move quickly to clean up the place, and fix all the mess that has been made. aemond takes your hand to brush a kiss on your knuckles. his eyes are warm this time, so clear under this lights.

"what do you think?" he asks. "good?"

you nod softly. "probably the best in a long time."

"kind of hard not to." he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you closer. "i had the best photographer."

you give him a kiss on his cheek but that's all. he's been teasing you all day long. "do you flirt with all your photographers like this, mr. targaryen?"

"absolutely not." he answers, cheekily. "my flirting skills are reserved for only one person."

"i think you owe me a drink." you tell him. "even working is easier than trying to deal with your incessant teasing."

"we'll have dinner first." he says, kissing the side of your head. he doesn't say, but he's tired. "think of what you want to eat when i'm changing, okay? i have a few options if you can't decide."

[fear-is-truth]

COLIN ZABEL — relationship headcanons

you’ve always heard people say, “find your person.” someone you want to share every sunset with, someone who feels like the start of all the best things in life. someone you want to keep learning about, discovering in small and big ways, even as the days, months, years slip by. you never thought you’d be that lucky, but then you found colin zabel.

colin, who remembers your coffee order down to the exact amount of sugar and cream, and hands it to you every single morning with a self conscious smile.

colin, who was so nervous the first time he asked you on a date that he couldn’t meet your eyes, clearing his throat and shifting his gaze to the floor, mumbling out an invitation in a way that was so painfully endearing you couldn’t help but say yes.

colin, who drives across town just to pick up pastries from your favourite bakery on sunday mornings, bringing them back with that look on his face that says he’d do it every day if it made you smile.

colin, who once poured his heart out to you after a few too many drinks, confessing that he had been terrified to fall for someone so completely and utterly.

colin, who keeps that photobooth picture folded carefully in his wallet—the one where you’ve just snuck a kiss to his cheek, and he’s caught mid-surprise, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. it’s a bit blurry, but it’s his favourite photo.

colin, who panics a little whenever he’s away from you too long, mind racing through all the things he forgot to say before he left. he’ll text you, even if it’s something that seems small and insignificant, just to let you know he’s thinking of you.

colin, who puts his coat around your shoulders when it’s chilly and you’ve forgotten to wear one, who fumbles with the zipper as he tries to keep you warm, even if he’s shivering himself.

colin, who insists on carrying your bag when you’re out together, not because he thinks you not capable of carrying them yourself, but because he loves looking after you, in any way he can.

colin, who tries his very best to comfort you when you cry at sad parts of movies, wiping away your tears with his thumb, even when he’s blinking back his own.

colin, who becomes completely sure of himself when it’s just the two of you. despite the stresses of his job, the long hours, the pressure—it’s like he saves all his energy for making you feel cherished, seen, desired. he knows you, knows what you need, and even when he’s exhausted, he gives you every bit of himself, like he’s still amazed he’s the one you chose.

and he loves kissing you, in every way—soft, lingering ones when you’re curled up together, quick pecks before he heads out the door, and deeper, needier ones when he’s feeling bolder, his hands slipping to your waist, holding you tight. sometimes, he just leans in to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and letting out a small sigh, pouring every ounce of his love for you in a single touch.

colin, who falls asleep holding you, an arm draped over you protectively. sometimes, you’ll wake up to see him already awake, just looking at you, his gaze so filled with tenderness it almost breaks your heart.

colin, who pulls you close in the morning, voice rough with sleep as he wraps his arms around you, begging you not to leave. just five more minutes. but those five more minutes often turn into ten, his kisses sleepy and unhurried, turning into something more, hands tracing gentle lines across your skin as he thrusts into you, morning light spilling onto your naked bodies.

colin, who loves to steal sips from your mug, always giving you a sly smile afterward, like he’s gotten away with something. when you call him out, he just shrugs, leaning in for a kiss that tastes like your favourite tea or coffee. he laughs when you do the same to him, pretending to be indignant, but you both know that he loves it.

colin, who sometimes stares wistfully at baby strollers when he thinks you’re not looking, his gaze lingering a little longer on strangers with babies. there’s a hopeful smile on his face, something almost dreamy in his expression. and when he catches your eye, he’ll immediately look away, shrugging it off, but you know he’s already imagining a future where it’s the two of you, maybe with a little one of your own.

colin, who watches you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, a soft, almost awed smile on his face, like he can’t quite believe you’re his. sometimes he’s so focused on you, lost in thought, that he doesn’t even realise you’ve caught him. your eyes meet, and he’ll blush, looking away with that heart-melting smile that makes you fall deeper in love with him then before.

he’s your person, in every simple, meaningful way. colin zabel, who is all the warmth, the tenderness, the home you’d never thought you’d find, and you’re his—his quiet, everyday happiness, the one he’ll keep choosing, day after day, for as long as you’ll let him.

 fear-is-truth

[goodlucktai]

raised on little light (1/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 2k pairing: leo & oc i've had this idea rattling around since the rise farewell comic earlier this year made it canon that the turtles had another brother and a sister floating around somewhere. we know who their sister is, so this is my take on that 5th brother. i hope you enjoy meeting him <3 big thank you to @soldrawss and @mykimouser for enabling my insane behavior (and thank you again to sol for drawing the art i included in this chapter!!!) title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

x

2020

Leo regretted his last words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Hero moves are totally your style”? As if Raph doesn’t have enough issues already.

But what he meant—what he would have tried to explain if there was time—was that Raph is his hero. He’s always been Leo’s hero. And if Leo could be anything like him, even for a second, even if it was the last thing he ever did, then he could be satisfied with that. 

It’s a silly thing to be stuck thinking about, laying on a torn up chunk of earth with a monster ominously lumbering somewhere below, looking for where it threw its toy. Laying there, feeling every bruise and broken bone, and hoping that he didn’t hurt his big brother’s feelings.

They’ll be okay, Leo thinks, trying to make it be the thing that gives him courage instead of just more homesickness. They’ll miss me, maybe for a long time, but they’ll be okay.

Leo’s supposed to be fighting for his life, but it’s all he can do to keep a grip on the photo in his hand, the only thing in this entire dimension worth holding onto. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open when every blink is longer than the last. 

It feels like enough of a rebellion. The Krang looked annoyed that he was still breathing the last time it batted him through the void like a fly, which gives Leo the idea that he should probably be dead by now. He feels a detached sort of pride at how grown-up he’s being about all this. Better late than never

Leo waits for the Krang to come for him, dripping his blood and sneering his daddy’s nickname for him hatefully as it does, and hopes he made his family proud. 

Leo hopes he’ll go wherever Gram-gram is. It would be nice to know someone when he gets there. 

Movement in his periphery snags Leo’s attention. His brain starts throwing up warning flags, signaling danger—anything moving around in here is another parasite, or a Krang hound, nothing he’ll want to be sprawled out on a silver platter for—but he can’t summon any urgency. 

He turns his head and finds himself looking up at another turtle. 

It’s the very last thing he expected to see. They both just stare at each other for a moment. 

The newcomer appears to be a few years older than Leo, based on the broadness of their shoulders, and half a head taller. Their skin is more gray than green and their plastron is so pale it’s closer to white than yellow. Their carapace, what Leo can see of it, is a deep blue-black and they’re covered, skin and shell both, in white spots. Two of the spots on their face give the impression of eyebrows lowered in a glare, but they don’t seem angry at him.

The turtle is completely unfamiliar to Leo, which is saying something. He thought he and his family had the monopoly on… this whole situation. 

Disquieted, Leo remembers that he’s supposed to be the only turtle here. That was a very significant part of the decision he’d made. 

It must be a hallucination, he decides, instantly comforted by his own reasoning. That makes sense. He just wished that if his mind was going to conjure him some dying company it could at least be someone he knows. An imaginary Mikey or Donnie or Raphie for one last hug. One last affectionate forehead bonk. An “I still love you,” if that wasn’t asking too much. 

Don’t you cry now, he scolds himself sternly when his eyes start to blur and burn. It’s not about you. 

With a resounding crash of metal against stone, the Krang finds them at last. He’s snarling something that Leo is too slow to piece together before he cuts himself off—surprising the hell out of Leonardo by acknowledging the hallucination. That’s not how that works. 

“Another pest ,” the Krang hisses. His serrated teeth glint when he draws his gummy lips back in an ugly smile. His tone is oily and unpleasant when he adds, “You’re less colorful than those other ones. I would have remembered seeing you. Where were you when your accomplices were fumbling about in my Technodrome like the stupid creatures they are?”

“We won,” Leo reminds the alien, even though it makes him cough. His lips are warm and wet now but he won’t think about why. “Blew up your ugly ship. Who looks stupid now?” 

“Shut your mouth!” the Krang roars, going from slimy to homicidal in about three seconds. Leo cringes, every ounce of animal instinct in his body urging him to hide in his shell and ride the rest of this nightmare out. 

The spotted turtle snaps, “Don’t talk to him.” 

It would have made sense if he was looking at Leo when he said it. Don’t engage, don’t bait the big monster that could kill you with as much effort as it takes you to blink, et cetera ad nauseum. If only he’d had a nickel for every time he heard that. 

But instead the turtle is looking at the Krang, and he’s radiating the kind of cold-blooded murder that you mostly only see in movies. He has one arm flung out in front of Leo like he actually means to use it to stop the Krang from getting any closer. 

“Don’t even look at him,” he goes on, sounding seconds away from baring his teeth. 

This guy is significantly unaware of the danger he’s facing, and Leo ought to warn him about what enormous clusterfuck he’d just wandered into. Leo ought to say he appreciates the reptile solidarity, but you should definitely run, new guy. 

But this probably isn’t actually happening outside of his own head. And besides, Leo has to focus really hard on his numb fingers so he doesn’t drop his photo. 

“I’ll look where I please,” the Krang says, as unbothered by the hallucination as he was by Leo’s entire family. “Starting with that fool head of yours. I’m interested in whatever backdoor led you here. If it’s my way out, well —”

Adrenaline surges through Leo, and he’s hardly aware of moving before he’s lurching up and shouting out, “No!” 

He can’t get out, he can’t. Leonardo won’t be able to trick him again. He won’t be there to help this time. 

“I do have one thing for you,” the spotted turtle interrupts to say, reaching over his shoulder for what turns out to be a compound crossbow strapped to his back. 

Leo doesn’t know a lot about archery so it’s weird his fictional turtle does, crank-cocking the weapon like it’s an extension of his arm. He watches cluelessly as the turtle slides something very purple out of his jacket pocket and notches it into the groove where the bolts are supposed to go. It’s definitely not a bolt, but it’s a piercing-type projectile of some kind, and it fits in the crossbow like it was designed with crossbows in mind. 

The turtle aims the bow at the Krang, who clicks the claws of his metal suit on the ground the way Splinter would drum his fingers on the kitchen counter when he was waiting on the microwave. The Krang looks condescending and mildly curious, like he’s watching dumb little animals do something they’re not trained to do. 

“He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to see this part,” the spotted turtle says, and then shoots without a second of hesitation or unnecessary dramatics. 

The Krang bats the projectile away, or tries to, but it explodes on contact with his armor, and suddenly all Leo can smell is burning metal. Then burning meat. 

The Krang begins to scream, clawing at something defiantly purple with a mind of its own that eats straight through him the effortless, immediate way corrosive acid chews through soft tissue. It moves like nanotech, covering as much of the Krang as possible in a manner of seconds and clearly designed to consume whatever it touches like a school of cartoon piranhas. 

Donnie would love it, color scheme and all. 

The Krang stumbles drunkenly, howling like a creature possessed, and Leo and his turtle companion both watch silently until he tips over the edge of the hunk of torn earth they’re on. Gravity is nonexistent in this dimension, so he doesn’t so much fall as sort of drift in another direction while he’s distracted with the purple stuff that’s doing its best to eat him alive. 

The last handful of minutes have been so bizarre that it’s actually going pretty far in convincing Leo that none of it happened for real. The Krang hasn’t actually found him yet. This is clearly a dream. Or a pre-death electrical storm as the neurons in his brain fire up to fizzle out.  

He tips his head to the side again to stare up at the archer, who is putting his bow away with perfect confidence that whatever that purple thing was, it will do the job. 

“Who are you?” Leo asks stupidly. 

“Gio,” the probably imaginary turtle replies.

Leo’s mouth runs off before he can stop it. “Just Gio? Like Cher?”

God, he thinks. That was stupid, Leo. Not the time or place, Leo. You’re in the prison dimension. You’re dying here and you can’t even cut the jokes now? Raph was so right about you.

But the imaginary turtle surprises him by smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling just barely upwards in a way that somehow completely transforms him. Not the time or place for jokes or smiling at them but here they are. Like company.

“Giorgio Hamato,” ‘Gio’ says. That lands in Leo’s ears as something remarkably worth making a lot of noise over, but he can’t begin to unpack it. And after a second, he forgets what the remarkable part was. His mind is a deck of cards that got shuffled too enthusiastically and ended up scattered all over the floor. Gio doesn’t seem to mind when Leo just blinks at him, adding, “I’m here to take you home.”  

“Pretty sure Uber doesn’t come out this far,” Leo mumbles, the words a paint smear, all thick and wet and muddy. One of his teeth feels broken and it’s keeping him awake, a blistering ache that cracks through the back of his mouth like lightning. “And I’ve got, like, zero bars.”

This is how I cope, he thinks, watching the bigger turtle absorb the second bad joke in as many minutes. Leo’s blinking fast so he doesn’t cry. He’s trying to focus on anything but the pain radiating through his whole body, and the swallowing darkness all around him, and the ruins of ancient metal ships looming where they float unrestricted by gravity, and the ballistic howls of a pissed-off pink alien still dealing with whatever the heck this Gio guy did to him.

He can’t focus on any of that because all of that is scary and he’s already terrified. He needs to not be terrified because he doesn’t want to be that kind of ghost when he haunts his family. He wants to be the friendly, funny kind, the kind that gets to stay at the end of the movie, the kind that will make silly faces at Mikey so he doesn’t get scared, and leave sticky notes for Donnie to remember to charge his phone and drink enough water, and cover Raphie with an extra blanket while he’s asleep because it gets cold at night but he always leaves his bedroom door open for them.

If Leo’s friendly and funny, if he helps, he’ll get to stay. He didn’t get to stay the first time, so this time he has to make it stick.

Larger hands wrap around his. It doesn’t register for a second, and then it does in a big way.

Leo jerks his head up. Moving just that much hurts like his ribs are broken all the way down and the bones in his leg have all melted into liquid agony, but it clears some of the fog away.

Someone is holding his hands in the prison dimension.

An alien like the Krang wouldn’t know the first thing about the human gesture, the togetherness of it, so it’s not some mean trick that’s being played. And it can’t be an imaginary turtle that Leo dreamed up, after all, because kindness would be the last thing he’d give himself.

Possibly very real Gio says, “Fuck Uber. Whatever that is. And don’t repeat that word.”

The punchy breath Leo chokes in is going to punch out again as a laugh or a sob. Leo squeezes the bigger turtle’s hands, photo crinkling between them, suddenly tethered to something in this void and hysterically certain that he’ll die for real if Gio lets go.

“I’m sixteen.” Leo’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t know what to react to first. He doesn’t understand how this is happening. He holds on. “I can say the fuck word if I want to, I’m practically an adult.”

Gio’s face does something it hurts to look at. His eyes are dark and sincere, the shape of them entirely familiar. There’s a warmth inside him that permeates the gloom. A star belonging to a much larger galaxy, but more significantly, belonging to the same crooked constellation Leo belongs to.

I know you, he thinks, surprised by the truth of it. I do. Where have you been?

“We’re going home,” Gio says, the certainty in his voice like one of those huge stones a river parts around, unmoved by the currents and crashing water. “I know the way out. Don’t worry about it. Close your eyes.”   

The worst thing that could happen has already happened, Leo thinks. There’s no reason not to trust him. There’s nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes.

He feels himself drawn in, tucked against the built-in armor of a turtle chest, head resting on a broad shoulder. He’s been carried like this a million times before. He didn’t think it would happen again. Somewhere along the line, he’d been picked up for the last time and put down for the last time, and now he’s here, where no one who loves him can reach him, to scoop him up when he falls asleep on the sofa and take him to bed.

But Gio lifts him up like he’s still a kid. The Krang is bellowing hateful promises in between the grating shrieks of pain, promises of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on Leo, but all of that is far away. 

Leo isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t going to be a ghost.

He’s pretty sure he’s going home.   

[ppssession]

Top-class insurance

Ian is an overweight 30-year-old man who lives a normal life with hard work and no free time.

One day while working hard as usual, Ian received an email about health insurance. At first, Ian ignored the email until he read through it and became interested.

The content of the email after his death Ian will receive a new body immediately. When he receives a new life, he must share the income after taking over the body, 45% of the income from the new body. Although Ian is interested in the offer, he thinks it is a joke from his colleagues.

Ian then accepts the insurance offer and the mysterious email. After accepting, he is prompted to send a photo of the person Ian wants to possess. Ian thinks for a moment and selects a photo of Joe, a millionaire he knows through social media.

It wouldn't hurt a rich person if their income dropped by 45% lol, Ian thought to himself. He sent an email back. The message said the insurance was complete. After a couple of weeks, Ian forgot about it because he had been working very hard recently.

One evening, Ian was working overtime, even though he had been working hard for weeks, he still had to do it, which made Ian feel very bad, his body gradually showed signs of weakness while he was in front of the computer, the images gradually became dark and he finally lost consciousness.

Ian's consciousness slowly returned, but strangely, he felt that he could breathe easier, his body felt light. When he opened his eyes, he was shocked when he saw a beautiful hand instead of his own fat hand. He was still holding an expensive liquor that even though he almost earned his entire salary, it was difficult to buy. He slowly came to his senses and rubbed all over his face to examine it. Oh my god, my face is so amazing.

Suddenly, he slowly remembered the mysterious insurance he had made. Yes, I remember. I must be in the body of that rich man, Joe. Ian remembered the insurance he had made, but he slowly smiled triumphantly. “Indeed, being in this body means I have a second chance to have fun without that fat body"

Oh, that's right. I need to rest for a while after working so hard. Ian, who was in Joe's body, took a deep sip of the liquor in his hand. "That's right. This is what expensive things should taste like." He slowly reached out and rubbed his target. Not long after, a large tent bulged out between his legs. He used the zipper to unzip it, freeing his long, thick cock. “Wow, this is great. I think I finally hit my jackpot. It’s as big as a bottle of booze,” Ian hungrily ran his hand up and down his new cock. “Ahh,” Ian’s deep, charming moan from his throat made him feel even more excited for a moment, as Ian’s orgasm brought him to his climax. Waves of pleasure shot out of his penis and spread throughout his body. Ian breathed heavily as waves of pleasure crashed through him, before he took a sip of his liquor. Suddenly, a notification sounded on his phone. He looked at the notification, “Please pay the security deposit within 24 hours (21:35 hours left) or we will refund your money.” After reading it, Ian smiled. Yes, I will pay the security deposit, but after this, Joe will play with this big cock a few more times. Haha.

Haha tell me if you had a chance to get insurance like in the story, who would you use as your second life?

[moons-and-mobility-aids]

Summary: You've been doing OnlyFans for a few years when you gain a new subscriber. A creator himself—as made obvious with his username being prongsplayground_free—and you quickly discover that he's part of a polyamorous relationship and they've been watching your content together for a while.

Content Warnings: Adult content, mostly accurate depictions of being an onlyfans creator (hi, I am one), reader is fem, uses a wheelchair, and has cerebral palsy.

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven | Chapter Twelve | Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fourteen | Chapter Fifteen | Chapter Sixteen | Chapter Seventeen | Chapter Eighteen | Chapter Nineteen | Chapter Twenty | Chapter Twenty-One | Chapter Twenty-Two | Chapter Twenty-Three | Chapter Twenty-Four | Chapter Twenty-Five | Chapter Twenty-Six | Chapter Twenty-Seven

The screen flickers as you refresh your subscriber feed, the blue light casting an ethereal glow on your face. The usual ache in your shoulders is more pronounced today, a reminder of the hours spent hunched over your laptop. It's been a slow day for interactions, and with each passing minute, your energy wanes.

You've become accustomed to the steady hum of pain that accompanies your cerebral palsy, a constant companion through the years. But some days, like today, it sings a sharper tune. A grimace crosses your face as a jolt shoots through your lower back, making you wince. Still, you adjust yourself in your wheelchair, pushing past the discomfort. You are resolute, persistent—qualities that have carried you far despite the odds.

Your gaze flits across the screen, taking in the aliases of your OnlyFans subscribers. Most are nondescript, a blend of numbers and letters that reveal nothing about the person behind the screen. But one notification stands out: a new subscriber—"ProngsPlayground_free." The uniqueness of the name catches your attention; it's different, that’s for sure.

Your fingers hover over the screen, curiosity piqued, and then you tap on the profile. The avatar is of a single man, but the banner image shows three figures intertwined, their faces obscured by shadows and strategic angles. You begin to scroll, the soft hum of your laptop the only sound that fills the room. OnlyFans has an auto-subscribe feature for creators who follow each other, and it's clear that this "Prongs" belongs to a throuple.

Your brows furrow slightly, interest piqued. It's not common to come across a polyamorous relationship on this platform, let alone one that shares content so openly. But then again, what is common in a world mediated by screens and pseudonyms?

You've noticed how many creators on here have a story behind them, something that fuels their content and connects them with their audience. Not that you'll ever know the full truth—they keep their personal lives as hidden as you do yours, tucked away behind usernames and carefully composed photos. Just as you keep your chronic illness behind a shield, they too have their own secrets. It's safer that way.

Each post from Prongs is a window, however small, into the life they share. The photos are playful, intimate—a hand reaching out to touch, fingers tracing the curve of a muscle, the rumpled sheets of a bed bathed in the warm glow of a setting sun. Faces are always obscured, identities hidden behind screen names and tantalising hints of bodies that suggest closeness without ever fully revealing. It's like a jigsaw puzzle with ever-changing pieces, a mystery enticing followers back for more.

The cover images on each video promise another piece of the story: Prongs’s hips pressed against Padfoot’s backside, their bodies moving together in rhythm, or maybe Moony's hand tangled in Prongs' hair, speaking volumes without words. Captions tease just as much as the images they're attached to: "Can't help being all tangled up," one reads, while another suggests, "Moony and Padfoot never give me a break 😏." Almost every post ends with a familiar prompt—“see the unedited version on @packofpleasure.”

The names Moony and Padfoot are everywhere, tagged in Prongs' bio with links to their own free accounts, @moonysden_free and @padfootsplaypen_free. And then there's the shared world they offer on their paid account, where followers can pay to peek behind the curtain and see what happens when the camera keeps rolling.

Your hand hovers over the trackpad, careful not to click on anything that might alert anyone to your presence. The videos tempt you with their colourful thumbnails and engaging titles, but you resist. You know how these platforms work. It would be all too easy to accidentally hit the like button and leave a digital footprint where you have no intention of treading.

A notification pings, pulling you away from the infinity scroll. Your heart pounds in your chest as you see a new message waiting for you.

It’s from Prongs.

ProngsPlayground_free: Hi! My name is Prongs, and I wanted to take a moment to introduce myself properly. My boyfriends and I have been fans of your content across various platforms for some time now, and we've always admired the passion and authenticity you bring to your work — it’s what we try to bring to our own content, to say the least.

As you finish reading, another message arrives, this one tinged with a different tone—more hesitant, but still earnest.

ProngsPlayground_free: We have discussed subscribing to your OnlyFans on more than one occasion, and today I finally took the plunge and made it official. I hope you don't mind, but I wanted to ask a somewhat delicate question: Would it be acceptable for me to share your content with my boyfriends? I understand that sharing outside of the platform goes against the rules—and for good reason—but given the nature of our relationship, not sharing feels... odd, to say the least. I didn't want to make any assumptions, so I thought it best to reach out and ask directly 😅

Your brow furrows as you read the message again, a spark of surprise igniting in your chest. It's unusual to see such respect when it comes to sharing your content—most people just do it without a second thought, and you're left hoping they haven't undermined your livelihood by giving away what you charge for. But the fact that he asked... it's endearing in a way that makes the corners of your lips twitch upward.

You pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You don't want to seem too eager, but there's an undeniable intrigue that tugs at you. Prongs and his boyfriends have shown genuine interest in your work, and perhaps there's a part of you that wants to know more about them, too. With a soft exhale, you begin typing your response.

You: Hey, Prongs! Thanks for reaching out. I appreciate you being direct about it. Honestly, I don't mind as long as it's just between the three of you—since you're all in a relationship, I can make an exception. 😉

You send the message and lean back, stretching your arms a bit, though your back still hurts too much to move much. It's not the first time someone has asked about sharing your porn with a partner, but this feels different. Maybe it's because they're a throuple, or maybe it's just the respectful way he asked. Either way, you're okay with it.

A few moments later, another message notification pops up. But this time, the message has a noticeably different tone.

ProngsPlayground_free: Thanks for being so chill about it! I know Prongs can get a bit stuffy with the rules sometimes, but we really appreciate you letting us use your place. We’re happy to give you a nice tip for being so accommodating. 😉 How does $100 sound? - Pads

You stare at your screen, a half-laugh caught in your throat. You hadn't anticipated an offer of a tip, let alone one as generous as $100, and you certainly wouldn't have asked for it. But when opportunity knocks...

You: I wasn’t going to ask for a tip, but since you offered… $100 sounds just fine. 😏

A spark of excitement flickers in your chest as you send the message. It's always a pleasant surprise when subscribers offer tips for additional content or special circumstances, and it helps more than they might realize. Sometimes, between managing your health and the unpredictability of your condition, working on OnlyFans can be more challenging than it seems. It's not just a playful side hustle—it's a lifeline on days when your energy is too low to do much else, and it feels good when subscribers acknowledge the work behind each post.

Almost immediately, a message appears from Prongs’s account: I sent you a $100.00 tip with the attached message of 'We appreciate you!'

You smile to yourself, pausing as you consider how to respond. It would be easy enough to leave it at that, a simple exchange of money for content, but something in you wants to offer them more. A gesture of gratitude for their generosity, a token of appreciation beyond the expected. You remember a video you recorded a while back—it was one of your favourites, originally sent out as pay-per-view content about a month ago. Perhaps they'd enjoy that?

You attach the video, your finger hovering over the file icon for a fraction of a second before you press it. The thumbnail shows a blurred image of your body, a tantalizing promise of what's inside. You push play just to make sure everything is as it should be. The clip begins with the camera set on a tripod, capturing the scene in your bedroom bathed in soft, ambient light. The sheets are rumpled, the air ripe with anticipation. It’s a sensual tableau, and at its center, you.

Your movements are slow and deliberate, each one designed to tease, to draw out the moments until they stretch thin with wanting. Your clothes peel away like layers of an intimate confession, revealing more of yourself with every passing second. A sigh escapes your lips, not acted but drawn from deep within by your own touch, your own desire. The final crescendo comes as no surprise; even through the lens, the raw intensity of your climax is palpable.

The video plays to its end, leaving behind a silence that hums in your ears. You wait for a moment, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, before typing your message.

You: Thanks for being so generous! Here's a little something extra. This was a PPV from last month—hope you all like it. 😘

With that, you lean back in your chair, the tension in your shoulders easing as you let out a long, slow breath. The screen of your laptop throws off a soft glow, casting shadows that dance across the walls of your room. For a moment, everything seems to be right with the world.

Your wheelchair creaks slightly as you shift your weight, the ache in your lower back a constant reminder of your limitations. But as you close the lid of your laptop, there's a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

A soft buzz draws your attention, and you glance down to see a notification lighting up the screen of your phone. It's from Prongs. Intrigued, you unlock the device and tap on the message, your eyes quickly scanning the lines of text, and you find your lips curving into a small smile as you read.

ProngsPlayground_free: Oh, wow. Thanks for that! We didn’t expect anything in return, but we’ll definitely enjoy it 😉 Moony says you’re very generous, and Padfoot is already deep into your feed. Can’t wait to see what you do next!

You can't help but laugh, setting your phone down and leaning back in your chair. This is new, this back-and-forth communication with subscribers. Most keep their identities hidden, their messages short and concise. But there's something different about this group—something inviting. Perhaps it's the respectful undertones or the playful banter they engage in. Either way, it makes you feel... connected, more so than usual.

The day wanes, shadows slanting long against the walls. Your body throbs with the dull ache of fatigue, and you know it's time to rest. With effort, you transfer from your wheelchair to the bed, each movement careful and measured. As you settle into the sheets, your thoughts drift back to Prongs, Moony, and Padfoot.

Who knew that today would turn into this?

[theesirenteller]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗; 𝕱𝖆𝖚𝖝 𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖆𝖑 | Masterlist

BETH sat in her car, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence as she stared at the dimly lit apartment building where Epiphany lived. This plan had been brewing in her mind for weeks, festering like a dark seed. She had watched Epiphany closely, memorizing her schedule, waiting for the right moment. Tonight, Epiphany was out with Rio, and that meant Beth had her chance. She adjusted the black gloves on her hands, checked her watch, and glanced at the small bag sitting in the passenger seat. Inside were the tools for her deception: a lock-picking kit and a few small bags for what she intended to take.

Stepping out of the car, Beth slipped into the shadows, careful to avoid the security cameras. She had paid attention to every detail of Epiphany’s life, knowing her routines, and some of her secrets. When she reached the apartment door, Beth worked quickly, picking the lock in under a minute. Once inside, she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. She moved through the space like a ghost, her gloved fingers brushing over Epiphany’s belongings, her clothes, her shoes. Beth opened the closet and pulled out a leather jacket Epiphany often wore, followed by a pair of jeans and boots that would complete the look she needed. With everything carefully folded into her bag, Beth left the apartment as quietly as she had entered.

The next phase of her plan was more delicate. Beth had spent time finding a girl who looked remarkably like Epiphany. It hadn’t been easy, but desperation made people do strange things. The girl was younger, maybe a little slimmer, but with the right clothes and under the right light, she could easily pass for Epiphany. Beth had arranged a meeting with her earlier that week, explaining that she needed her help for a "photography project." The girl, a struggling actress, jumped at the opportunity. She had no idea the role she was about to play in ruining someone's life.

Two days later, Beth met with the girl in a dingy motel room on the outskirts of town. She handed her Epiphany's clothes, watching as the girl slipped into them, adjusting the jacket and smoothing out the jeans. “You look perfect,” Beth murmured, circling her like a director inspecting a scene. The resemblance was striking, enough to make Beth feel a twist of satisfaction in her gut. She had set up a meeting between the girl and a detective who had been investigating Rio for months. Ever Since the assination of agent Turner and his group of undercover detectives, another detective had replaced him. Of course, the girl didn’t know who he was—she believed it was all part of Beth's elaborate photo series. Beth had arranged everything so the meeting would appear secretive, suspicious even.

That night, Beth positioned herself in a car across from a small diner where the meeting was set to take place. She watched as the girl, dressed in Epiphany’s clothes, entered and sat at a booth. Moments later, the detective walked in, and Beth’s heart raced as she watched them shake hands and sit down, their conversation hidden behind the glass. Beth raised her camera and began snapping photos, capturing the way the light hit the girl's face, making her look so much like Epiphany that even Beth had to blink twice. The detective leaned in, speaking closely to the girl, and Beth took more photos—perfectly staged to look like they were sharing confidential information.

After an hour, the meeting ended, and Beth continued snapping pictures as the girl and the detective parted ways. She had what she needed. Later that night, in the solitude of her home, Beth sifted through the photos, editing them carefully. She adjusted the lighting, blurred some of the details, and most importantly, altered the timestamps. She wanted it to look like these meetings had been happening for weeks. The final product was a series of damning images that could easily be mistaken for Epiphany betraying Rio with law enforcement. Satisfied with her work, Beth transferred the photos onto a burner phone she had picked up earlier that week.

Beth hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the "send" button. This was the moment of truth, where everything would either fall apart or go exactly as she planned. With a deep breath, she pressed send, watching as the message was delivered to Mick. The photos, carefully staged and edited, would tear his world apart. Beth knew him well enough to know that trust, once broken, could never be fully repaired. And this? This would break him in ways he couldn’t even imagine. With a smile, Beth tossed the phone into a nearby trash bin and walked away, feeling a weight lift off her chest as she disappeared into the night to accompany Ruby to a bar.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Epiphany was swallowed by the sea of people on campus. A few classmates from her psychology class had invited her to their pre-Christmas bash, and after weeks of being alone in her apartment, she couldn’t resist the temptation. Rio had been in Tokyo for the last three weeks, and although she had once been thrilled by the idea of some quiet time to herself, the loneliness had quickly settled in, like a heavy blanket she couldn’t shake off. 

The party was a welcome distraction, a chaos of lights and music that buzzed through her body, pulling her out of her thoughts. As the techno beat thumped against her chest, she felt herself lose the grip on everything else—her worries, her doubts—swept away in the rhythm of the crowd. The pressure of the bass vibrated through her feet, making her legs move without thinking, her body slipping into the groove effortlessly.

Her hips swayed against the bodies of her classmates, her raven curls bouncing in time with the beat. The music surrounded her like an ocean tide, pulling her further from herself with every thump of the bass. She caught flashes of faces around her—grinning, carefree—and for a moment, she felt part of something bigger, the chaos of the crowd absorbing her. But then, as quickly as the euphoria came, it retreated. 

Her mind wandered back to Rio. Three weeks. Three weeks since she had felt the warmth of his touch, heard his voice beside her at night, tangled in blankets. Was he thinking of her, or was Tokyo keeping him too busy? She should’ve been happy he was away, letting him get his own space. But tonight, as she danced with strangers, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that she was simply filling a void until his return. 

She closed her eyes, losing herself to the beat again, but this time, her movements were just a little slower, a little more deliberate. Was she dancing for herself? Or was it for Rio, in some strange way, a dance she could give him when he came back? Her classmates were laughing around her, but she wasn’t sure if she was laughing with them—or at herself.

One of her classmates, Jessica wrapped her arms around her waist and whispered into her ear, “ Hey Piffy, wanna bump a line? You’re looking too sober for this kind of night."

Epiphany shot her a smile. She’d been avoiding drugs lately—she didn’t want to lose control, didn’t want to feel any more disconnected than she already did. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. She took a breath, about to accept, when a thought struck her, sharp and almost funny. She twisted around in an exaggerated spin, her body brushing against Samara’s, her hands snaking up to loop around Samara’s neck.

“No thanks, I’m trying to get pregnant,” Epiphany murmured into Samara’s ear, her voice dripping with a playful, flirtatious edge.

Samara blinked, startled at first, and then let out a loud, infectious laugh. Her hands came up to push Epiphany lightly in mock protest, but there was an underlying curiosity in her eyes. “What, you think you’re going to get knocked up here?” she asked, her tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness.

Epiphany let out a laugh that wasn’t entirely real. It was a joke, of course. At least, that’s what she told herself. The idea of wanting something so tangible, so real, something as permanent as a baby, had crossed her mind more than once, but she quickly pushed the thought away. It wasn’t even practical. And yet, the words hung in the air between them like something she couldn’t erase.

She swirled her drink in the air, pretending to focus on the rhythm of the music rather than the growing tension between her and Samara. The laughter around them seemed louder now, more distant. Samara was easy to be around. She wasn’t trying to fix Epiphany, or ask too many questions about Rio or why she was here, alone.

Epiphany met Samara’s gaze again, suddenly aware of how close they were, her arms still loosely draped around Samara’s neck. It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself drawn to someone like this—not a romantic attraction, but a kind of magnetic pull. Samara’s proximity felt strange, not like the tension she had with Rio, but it was enough to make her skin buzz, her heart racing in an unfamiliar way.

“Seriously, though,” Samara said, her eyes narrowing, studying Epiphany with a mix of amusement and curiosity, “is it just me, or are you way too quiet tonight? You’re not usually so reserved.”

Epiphany hesitated for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly on Samara’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m just not feeling it,” she said, her voice quieter now, the humor fading slightly. It wasn’t a lie, exactly—she was just hiding the deeper things she didn’t want to confront. She didn’t want to talk about Rio or what was left unsaid between them. She didn’t want to think about how empty this all felt.

The song changed, the tempo shifting to something slower, more sultry. The crowd around them seemed to melt away as the night wore on, leaving just the pulsing beat and the dizzying effect of the flashing lights.

Her gaze drifted, and she spotted a group of people huddled by the bar, laughing with the kind of carefree joy she hadn’t felt in a long time. Was she jealous of them? Or just of the idea that they could be so free, so unburdened? She wasn’t sure, but she felt a pang of longing that she quickly masked with a smile.

Epiphany shifted, stepping back slightly from Samara, feeling the disconnection creep back in. It was as if the night had gone from a blur of excitement to a moment of painful clarity. She could almost hear her own thoughts, loud and intrusive. What was she doing here?

“Anyway,” Epiphany said, her voice lighter again as she stepped back, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I think I’ll stick to the caffeine for tonight. Who knows? Maybe I’ll start making my own little army of babies later, after all.”

Samara laughed again, and the sound was like a momentary escape. But as the music pulsed on, Epiphany felt the familiar ache settle back into her chest. She was surrounded by people, but still, somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being alone.

Epiphany wasn’t the only one who felt empty and alone without their lover, Rio had felt the same,despite successfully securing a transportation of machinery and new-age technology. As he sat cozily in first class, rio sulked in his feelings of longing for Epiphany.his relationship with Epiphany had only deepened, solidifying the partnership he never knew he needed. She was unlike anyone he'd ever been with—smart, fierce, and loyal. Trust was hard to come by in his world, but Epiphany had earned it, and that made her the most important thing in his life. He took a sip from his glass, his mind drifting to the plans they had for the future.

A tap on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts.”You gotta see this,” Mick informed him as he passed Rio the phone.his brow furrowing as he scrolled through the photos that appeared. The first image showed a woman, wearing a familiar leather jacket, sitting at a diner. He blinked, his pulse quickening. The jacket was Epiphany’s—he had seen her wear it a hundred times before. He swiped to the next image, his grip on the phone tightening. The woman was shaking hands with a man.

The next few photos made his stomach drop. The man was Detective Hawthorne, the very same detective who had been hounding him for months, trying to bring him down. And the woman—he squinted at the screen—looked too much like Epiphany for it to be a coincidence. The clothes, the way she held herself, the shape of her face. But there was something off, something that made him hesitate. The photos were blurry in parts, the lighting soft and grainy, but it was close enough to plant the seed of doubt.

Rio swiped through the images again, each one more damning than the last. The timestamps were from different days, spread out over weeks. How could he not have noticed? The girl in the photos—Epiphany—looked deep in conversation with Detective Hawthorne, almost intimate. His chest tightened, rage bubbling beneath the surface as his mind raced. He thought about the nights she said she was out with friends, or running errands, or busy with work. Could she have been meeting with a cop all this time? He slammed the phone down on the arm rest,as he fought to keep his composure. 

His mind whirled with possibilities. Was this a setup? Could someone be trying to get inside his head, break the trust between him and Epiphany? Or worse—could it be true? He had enemies, plenty of them, but the photos looked real enough to make him question everything. He didn’t want to believe it, but he’d seen enough betrayal in his life to know how easily things could turn.

The spark of warmth within his heart told him his thoughts were of paranoia and that this was more elebroate plan from someone else.

He stared at the last photo, the one that sent a jolt of pain straight to his core—Epiphany, or someone who looked exactly like her, leaning in close to Detective Turner, as if whispering something in his ear. The image was grainy, but the implication was clear; someone was trying to frame Epiphany.

“What are you thinking, man? It looks fraudulent.” Mick commented. 

“It is fraudulent.” Rio agreed, he then proceeded to pass Mick the phone,”Which is why it’s time to tie up loose ends and clean up this mess.”

Later on, once the plane landed and Rio was situated in his car his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as the phone rang. When Epiphany picked up, her voice was bright, excited, even playful.

"Hey, Papí! Thought you’d forgotten about me. How was Tokyo?"

Rio felt the familiar warmth of her voice but forced himself to keep his tone steady, detached. “Productive. Got what I needed done,” he replied, his words clipped, almost rehearsed.

“Productive, huh?” she laughed softly. “That’s all you got for me? I was hoping for a little more than that.”

“What else is there to say, Piff? It was business,” he said flatly, his eyes narrowing as he stared out the window, his mind still buzzing with the images he’d seen.

There was a brief pause on the other end before Epiphany’s voice came back, softer, cautious. “...Is everything alright? You sound… off.”

Rio swallowed, feeling the familiar knot tighten in his stomach. “Just been thinkin. A lot can happen when you’re away, yea?”

Epiphany’s laugh was shaky. “Guess I can relate. You’ve been gone almost a month. I’ve… missed you.”

“Yeah, it’s a long time,” he said, his voice quiet, almost hollow. He’d thought he’d feel better being back in the same city, but the doubt gnawed at him, sharper than ever.

Her tone softened, laced with concern. “Chris, what’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

He was silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I just have a lot on my mind, Piff. We all make choices, don’t we?”

A beat of silence hung between them before she spoke again, her voice trembling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he replied, his voice guarded. “Just a reminder that trust isn’t something to take lightly.”

The hurt in her voice was unmistakable. “You’re talking in riddles. Just tell me what’s really going on.”

Rio clenched his jaw, his hand tightening on the phone. “I will. Soon. But for now, I need to think some things through. Without distractions.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, a hurt edge seeping through. “Am I a distraction to you now?”

The question caught him off guard, slicing through his resolve. He fought to keep his tone even. “I’m just saying I need space. Clarity.”

“I thought we were clear, Rio. I thought we were solid…” Her voice broke slightly, and he felt a pang he couldn’t shake, but he forced himself to ignore it.

“I thought so too. But things change. Like I said… people make choices.”

“Then just say it,” she whispered, barely audible. “If I did something wrong, just say it.”

Rio exhaled, trying to keep his voice steady, his tone neutral. “Let’s meet next week. We’ll talk. Figure it out.”

The line was quiet for a moment before she responded, her voice low. “Yeah… alright. Be safe.”

“You too, Piff.” He hung up, the hollow echo of her words lingering in his mind.

TAGGED

@ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @nobodygetsza @lovedlover @fvckthisbxtchup @hausofmamadas

@secretlifeofmarii

[zahlibeth]

hiii tumblr please may i sell u my friend's book? (maybe for christmas?? sorry i know it's only just november)

Margins by @landrybrennan (available in ebook or paper form at your local amazon^)

((^yes i knoooooow but it is the quickest/easiest approach for a baby author! I figure that's worth dealing with making bezos an infinitesimally teeny tiny bit richer))

I tried to take a mood lighting photo but i fucked up probably so this is what it says:

through his veins, so thick and slow. He finishes the last shot instead, then uses his free hand to reach forward and curl a finger through one of Elijah's belt loops, tugging him closer, Elijah perfectly sober and moving easily in response, comfortable where he lands between Alex's legs. "Careful," Elijah says again. "Because people might see us?" "Don't care about them," Eiljah murmurs. "And I'm not the one who's still sitting in the dark." "Just like they did." "Maybe." Alex nods, then feels the crease between his brows come and go. "That day at the café, when I said maybe I screwed up[...]"

do you love them yet? i love them a lot. Alex is. a mess <3 and Elijah is soooooo. idk. i love him

their whole story is sweet and achy and realistic and nothing's ever quite as simple as they want it to be. AND there's a whole second story in there too??? they discover handwritten notes in the margins (get it??) of a set of books and read through to figure out who and what and where. I can't say much more without spoilers!! but i love both stories and they feel realistic and nuanced and ugh too many feelings

"a love story within a love story" is like, the tagline and it's such a fucking delight honestly. a gentle read for december without being sticky sweet

oh and here's some official promo or whatever:

i will be eternally grateful if you reblog this for me*

[bigmammallama5]

Do you have any tips for taking photos of physical objects? I like making things, but taking photos of them is the worst :(

Sure! I also struggle with taking pictures of stuff, but I can give you two big suggestions (and I'll try to keep my explanation brief for now, but you are always welcome to come back and ask for clarification!). As always, these suggestions are not rules, so if it goes against what you know or have been taught or what works best for you, feel free to disregard it lol.

Lighting, and set-up (which I will roll camera angle into).

You don't need anything big and fancy to take nice pictures of what you make. You don't need a big DSLR camera or box lights or a crazy image processing program. You can take great pictures of your stuff right at home with things you already have. I know a lot of potters who take decent pictures of their work in a corner of their living room with a simple paper sweep (poster board), one directional light (one guy I know even uses just a lamp and points it towards his pots), and something to take pictures with whether that's your phone or a little point and shoot.

Lighting. A good rule of thumb is to not back-light your work as your primary light source*. Make sure your primary light source is in front and pointing at the thing you're trying to photograph. You can even kick it off to the side for a nice three-quarters effect! You CAN have some back-lighting as long as is is acting as your fill (secondary light source) OR if you're shooting outdoors. If you want to go for natural lighting, gray days are actually quite nice as they offer even lighting (though if you want that bright sun, go for it!). *That is not to say back-lit things are bad, just that they aren't necessarily going to show off your work unless it's designed to be that way.

Set-up. This can be as simple or as complex as you want it to be! Figure out how you want to shoot your work, and then figure out how to light the space. If you want something clean, create a light box. Use a box with a white/light gray sheet draped inside to make a contained space, or pick a corner of a room and either drape a sheet or use some poster board to make a little box you can easily put up and take down. If you want something that's more set up, I have actually used my work space as my backdrop. Show the tools you are using, maybe some material, and build a composition around your piece! That takes a little more effort but can be quite nice.

As for taking the actual picture, I have found that I personally like to have it slightly up at a shallow angle so it's not straight on or too high looking down on the piece. You can easily create an unflattering angle, but there are little nuances to taking pictures of those more extreme angles. It's just not what I'm interested in lol. Have your piece nice and centered at the angle you like, and make sure the camera is focusing on your work as much as possible and not the surrounding environment (I won't get into depth of field and all that, but that's worth keeping in mind). You can do that with some simple settings our technology has these days! (Also side note: if you are using your phone, clean the camera lens on your shirt first. It's crazy how easily that little thing can get dirty and give you smudgy looking photos lol)

I'll stop myself there, but hopefully these suggestions can help you feel more confident in taking pictures of your work! As always, feel free to ask more questions if you have any.

[slay00ryu]

Ronin x mc x Angel thoughts???

Angel, devil and a mortal.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Killer chat spoilers

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Ronin was laying in a bed with two people, Y/N was curled up beside him and right beside them was Angel. he chuckled quietly as he was watching the sleeping writer.

"Never thought we would be a thing again, Maria." Ronin looked at the woman who was looking at him.

She chuckled softly and brushed a hand through their hair.

"Yeah... me neither." She scoffed and looked up at Ronin. "Maybe they are what we needed from the beginning?"

"Like someone to keep us in a safe balance?" He shook his head. "Maybe, I don't know. But 's feels nice, having a bad shit crazy cannibal and then a writer as your partners." He smirked when he felt Angel's glare on him.

"Oh, shut up Ronin." She rolled her eyes playfully, unable to hide her smile.

"Awh, you're such a softie." He moved his hand from Y/N's waist and took a strand of Maria's hair between his fingers and twirling them around.

"... Would you ever imagine us being a thing again before meeting them?" Angel asked not protesting against Ronin's playful behaviour.

"No, I thought that being friends was our end, not like it was a bad thing." He paused. "You're... good friend." He said in a softer voice.

"Yeah, you're not too bad either..."

There was a moment of silence between them.

"I'm so fucking glad that they helped you kill that motherfucker." Ronin said, letting Angel's hair go.

"... They really helped me out a lot." She looked down at their sleeping form.

"Wow, where's my credit?" He said sarcastically.

"Guess you helped out too, you emo idiot." She smiled.

Ronin was about to answer but a sudden feeling of lips touching his forehead and then moving away to do the same for Angel stopped him.

"You're not asleep..?" Angel asked.

"You two are talking to loud." They yawned.

"Hah, of course you're a light sleeper." Ronin scoffed and ruffled their hair.

"Thanks Ronin, I really enjoy the free hairdresser treatment." They sighed. "Anyway, you two dummies. I love you two, and will burn this world down if you will want me to. Now sleep, Angel has a photo shoot in the morning, and you need to have enough energy to annoy me."

And with that the three fell asleep, an angel and a devil embracing a human in between them.

[martyrbat]

one last halloween — dcu halloween special (2008)

(ID in alt!)

[abyssalpriest]

Damnit lev lmfao. I was thinking about Shiva wearing corpse ash being resonant for other reasons, something about his relationship with the Bright Skinned Ones and death and whatever. No, no. More fucking importantly: Oh I wonder why Shiva is known for. you know. wearing bodies. his appearance is a mass of bodies joined together. yeah

[paradife-loft]

lmao I keep getting into the Usagi/Seiya plotline since it... genuinely actually works and also manages to highlight Usagi/Mamoru well (in a way they... aren't great at doing when they're actually both in the same room, oops)

and then someone always barges in BUT USAGIIII DON'T YOU ALREADY HAVE A SPECIAL SOMEONE??????!!!!!! like the world's most unnecessary Sailor Kool-Aid Man

Usagi's got two hands and genuine feelings for both of them, y'all, leave her alone

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan���ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[familyoftwo]

Everything under this post is archived!

[fingertipsmp3]

Is it just me who cannot figure out their colour season