#(and not knowing / or forgetting where it is) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mephisto-reporting · 1 day ago

Text

Hearbreak Anniversary with Zayne

Summary: It was your anniversary with Zayne. One year of togetherness. But what if he does not show up when you expect him to? What if he was spending it with MC? Pairing: Non MC! Reader x Zayne Note: MC in this fic goes by the name Lina (my name... so if you are angry, you can be angry at me :3). This oneshot was based on this request. I will write this for the other LADS men too. Also I don't think any of these men would ever be the type to actually willlingly forget it. Especially Zayne. So I had to adapt the request a bit. Content Warning: injuries, panic, insecurities, self worth issues, Zayne POV

Rafayel version |

Zayne’s apartment smelled like him—clean, crisp, and faintly of the eucalyptus-scented candles he kept on the shelves. You sat on the edge of his couch, smoothing the fabric of your dress down your thighs, nerves making your fingers tremble slightly. The dim light of the chandelier cast a soft glow over the room, illuminating the carefully planned surprise you had for him —flowers, his favorite treats, elegant scarves, and jackets you had spent weeks picking out. The final touch was the flexible weekend getaway tickets, somewhere warm and far from the sterility of hospital walls. A place where he could finally rest.

You had gone all out for tonight. The garden-themed restaurant was supposed to be the perfect setting—a quiet, intimate place where vines curled around twinkling fairy lights, and the soft scent of fresh blooms would fill the air. And you had dressed accordingly with something elegant, something that made you feel beautiful for him. The deep navy-blue dress you wore clung to your form just right, the intricate lace details at the sleeves soft against your skin. You had taken your time getting ready, styling your hair to perfection, slipping on a pair of delicate earrings he once admired absentmindedly. A spritz of white jasmine perfume, the one he once said reminded him of spring mornings. You wanted to look like someone worthy of being by his side. You wanted to be beautiful for him, for the man who had somehow, impossibly, fallen for you.

Because, truth be told, there were times you weren’t sure you were.

you still didn’t understand how this happened—how Zayne, the prodigy, the man who could save lives with his hands and mind, had chosen you. He was brilliant, disciplined, and deeply compassionate. And you? You were just… you. Ordinary in comparison. He never made you feel small, never belittled you, but standing beside him you felt you were just lucky to be there. His world was one of brilliance, filled with extraordinary people—Lina, the fearless Deepspace Hunter; his late friend Caleb, a DAA pilot whose loss still lingered in hushed conversations; his esteemed mentors and fellow doctors who spoke in a language you could only ever grasp at the edges. Compared to them, compared to him, you felt so small.

But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, was supposed to be about the two of you.

You had fallen for him in the quietest of ways—through the gentle cadence of his voice, through the moments he noticed things others didn’t. How he’d pull a chair out for you before you could do it yourself, how he’d check the temperature of your tea so you wouldn’t burn your tongue, how he’d listen, really listen, to your ramblings even after a 48-hour shift. He had nestled himself into your heart without you even realizing it.

And tonight, he had insisted he wanted to be with you, even with the chaos of the hospital weighing on his shoulders.

The call came two hours before your reservation. You already knew what he was going to say the moment you saw his name flash on your screen.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Zayne’s voice was warm, familiar, but there was an edge of exhaustion to it. “I’m so sorry. I can’t make it tonight.”

Your heart sank, but you swallowed it down, forcing your voice to remain even. “It’s okay, Zayne. I know you’re busy.”

“It's been a long shift, and the surgeries…”

You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll cancel the reservation. Take some breaks and rest, okay? You sound tired…”

“I am fine, sweetheart. I’ll make it up to you,” he promised. “I swear.”

"It’s fine, Zayne." you whispered, even if it wasn’t. “We’ll just celebrate it another day. No big deal.” Even though it felt like one at the moment.

Still, you weren’t upset. Not really. You understood. You always understood.

You hung up and exhaled slowly, pressing your palms against your lap. It wasn’t his fault. He was working back-to-back shifts, saving lives, doing what he was meant to do. And yet, you couldn’t quite keep the disappointment from settling in your chest.

You exhaled slowly, stripping away the dress you had so eagerly put on just hours ago. You slip into into one of Zayne’s oversized sweaters instead, the one that still smelled like him, the sleeves swallowing your hands. You wear leggings underneath and slip on your shoes. You took your time packing the gifts back into the car, moving slowly, as if dragging out the moment would make it hurt less. Maybe when he was finally done, you could pick him up from the hospital. At least you’d get to see him and surprise him. This was what occupied your time for the next three to four hours.

Once everything was back in the car, you plopped yourself on his plush but ergonomic couch. You scrolled through your phone while waiting, mindlessly tapping through social media, until one post stopped you cold.

Lina’s story.

A picture of her sitting across from Zayne in a small restaurant outside Akso hospital, the caption lighthearted:

When you have to drag out your doctor because he won’t follow his own advice about resting. (-_-)

Zayne looked amused in the photo, tired but still composed, his lips slightly curved in a small, rare smile. He looked… content. His gaze focused on her as if she had just said something ridiculous.

Your fingers trembled as you stared at the screen.

It was stupid. It was so stupid to feel like this. Lina was his childhood best friend. She had never given you a reason to be insecure, and yet, the sting of it hit you like a slow, creeping ache. He had time to go out for a meal with her. He had time to smile like that, even after canceling on you. You knew you were being irrational, that he had only stepped out for a quick bite in his busy shift, yet you felt betrayed.

Tears pricked at your eyes before you could stop them. You wiped them away quickly, but they kept falling, silent at first, then turning into quiet, shuddering sobs. You felt pathetic. Childish. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. You knew he wasn’t. But it hurt anyway. Because you would have taken anything—just a few moments, even just a simple meal at that tiny restaurant, if it meant spending time with him today.

It hurt in a way that made your chest feel tight, made the lump in your throat impossible to swallow. The sting of it crept under your skin like a wound you hadn’t realized was open, raw and aching. The disappointment bled into something uglier, something heavier. Why, after everything, did it feel like you were always on the sidelines of his life? No, Zayne never made you feel that way. It was your own spiraling thoughts.

A loud sob choked its way out, your hands gripping the fabric of his sweater as if that would somehow ground you. You wanted to hate yourself for crying over something so petty. He was saving lives. He was exhausted. He didn’t mean to hurt you.

But it hurt.

You needed to go home. You needed to collect yourself before the ugly thoughts swallowed you whole. You stood up, tears streaming down your face, as the weight of it all seemed too much to bear. You didn’t want to sit here anymore. You didn’t want to wait. You needed to go home, to clear your head, to get away from the overwhelming sense of inadequacy.

You sniffled, grabbing your keys and heading out. The highway would be the fastest route home—less traffic, a straight shot. You rerouted, pressing your foot on the accelerator, trying to breathe through the tightness in your chest. You wiped at your tears quickly, trying to focus on the road.

The road stretched out before you, a wide expanse of concrete and asphalt that felt like it would swallow you whole. The tears wouldn’t stop, and you wiped them away, trying to steady your hands on the wheel, trying to focus on the road ahead. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you understood, that you were rational about his work. The reality of it, the empty seat next to you, the disappointment of seeing Zayne happy in a photo with someone else, it all felt too much.

And then—

Headlights. Too close. Too fast.

A car jumped the signal, trying to merge into the highway.

You slammed the breaks, the scream of tires against pavement rang in your ears.

The impact was instant. A violent, sickening jolt that sent your body forward, the seatbelt snapping against your chest, the airbag exploding in front of you. The windshield cracked, splintering into a spiderweb of broken glass. Your vision blurred, the world spinning.

Pain.

Your chest burned, lungs straining to catch a breath. Your limbs felt heavy. You reached for the seatbelt, your fingers fumbling, but it was jammed.

Fuck.

Your head lulled forward, resting against the deflated airbag. Your head was heavy, your thoughts slipping away like sand through your fingers. The distant wail of sirens reached your ears, but they felt so far away.

Your vision swam, the edges darkening.

I hope the other person is alright.

The thought barely had time to settle before everything faded into black.

ZAYNE'S POV

The fluorescent lights of the hospital buzzed faintly, casting an artificial glow over the chaos of the emergency room. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the undercurrent of blood—familiar, almost routine, yet tonight it gnawed at Zayne's nerves in a way he couldn't quite shake. He hadn’t left since he stepped through those doors, yet somehow, the guilt weighing on him had nothing to do with the lives he saved today. It was you.

He was tired. God, was he tired. His body screamed for rest, his temples throbbed from the strain of back-to-back shifts, but the hospital was understaffed, and there was no room for exhaustion when lives were at stake. As a cardiologist, his expertise lay in the intricate mechanics of the human heart, but duty demanded flexibility—especially in the ER. Cardiologists weren’t meant to be dealing with blunt force trauma and lacerations, but tonight, none of that mattered. They needed doctors. He was a doctor. So, he worked.

Even through the fatigue, his mind kept drifting back to you. He could still hear your voice from the call earlier, soft and understanding despite the disappointment laced beneath it. You didn’t deserve this. You had every right to be upset, to be frustrated that he had broken his promise, yet you didn’t even complain. That hurt more than if you had yelled at him

God, he loved you. And he hated himself for testing that patience again and again.

His hand tightened around the pen he was holding. He had plans—plans to make it up to you. The necklace in his office drawer, nestled in a velvet box, had been meant for tonight. Something small, perhaps, compared to everything you did, but a token of his devotion nonetheless. He could still salvage this. Maybe he could call you later, ask if you were still awake—

His device beeped, pulling him back to the present.

MVA on the highway. ETA: 5 minutes.

Multi-vehicle accident. Paramedics on site, victims en route.

Zayne exhaled sharply, shifting into work mode. He stepped into the ER just as the first stretcher was wheeled in. The radio chatter from their comms filled the space.

"Female, mid-to-late twenties, restrained driver, T-bone collision from a vehicle that ran a red light. Airbag deployment, but impact trauma to the chest from seatbelt. BP slightly low, likely from pain response. Tachycardic at 112. GCS is 14. Possible wrist fracture, mild concussion. No signs of internal bleeding from the ultrasound, but needs further imaging to rule out any complications."

He nodded briskly, slipping into the detached, clinical efficiency that had been drilled into him for years. It was only as he stepped forward, pulling the curtain aside, that his breath caught in his throat.

His world stopped.

There, on the hospital bed, was you.

Lying on the hospital bed, your hair disheveled, your skin pale against the stark white sheets. His breath lodged in his throat, the world narrowing to a pinpoint focus on the rise and fall of your chest. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. There was dried blood at your temple, your lower lip swollen where you must have bitten down upon impact. The sight of the IV line in your arm, the faint bruises forming along your collarbone—he couldn’t breathe.

No. No. No. No. No.

"Dr. Zayne…" Yvonne’s voice cut in, sharp and urgent. A warning. He was frozen. This wasn't just a patient. This was you.

He blinked, his hands suddenly trembling as he reached for his gloves. Breathe. He had to focus. Had to push past the sheer, gut-wrenching fear threatening to paralyze him.

This is her. She was waiting for me. She—

"Dr. Zayne!!" Yvonne pressed, handing him the updated chart. "She needs you."

That snapped him out of it.

The moment his hands touched you, they were steady again. His voice was even as he examined you, the motions automatic, controlled. He checked your pupils, gently palpated your ribs to assess for fractures. He was a doctor. He was your doctor right now. He had to move. Focusing, he reached for his stethoscope, pressing it against your chest to listen for abnormalities. The rhythm of your heart was steady, but your breathing was just slightly labored—likely from the seatbelt trauma.

"You’re going to be fine." he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

You were stable.

"Her left shoulder—check for AC joint separation," he murmured, voice steadier than he felt. "Get a CT to rule out any internal injuries. And…" He swallowed. “Get me images from the crash site.” He needed to see how bad the collison was. He had to.

The hours blurred. He monitored your scans, adjusted your IV, checked your vitals more times than necessary. Each time his eyes drifted to you; his chest ached. He had seen the accident reports—your car, your windshield shattered, the crumpled hood. And the contents scattered across the scene…

You had planned everything.

For him.

And he wasn’t there.

Zayne clenched his jaw. Flowers were scattered, crushed against the upholstery. The pastries you must have picked out for him were ruined; their boxes torn open from the force of the crash. And gifts. There were so many gifts. He hadn’t even known you had planned all this.

He felt like he was going to be sick.

You had so much waiting for him. And where had he been? At a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, eating with Lina because she forced him to take a break. He had been smiling in that photo while you were—

God.

He ran a hand down his face, exhaling shakily as he sat by your bedside. He should have been with you. If he had just—

The monitor beeped steadily, a quiet reminder that you were alive.

Now, he sat beside you, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, fingers curled into his palms to keep them from shaking.

"Wake up, sweetheart." he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "Please, just wake up."

And for once, Zayne—brilliant, composed, always in control—felt utterly powerless.

The beep of the heart monitor was steady, rhythmic, but Zayne found himself gripping the edge of his chair every time you stirred, waiting for that moment when your eyes would finally open. His body was stiff from staying in the same position for hours, but he didn’t dare move. He didn’t want to miss it.

Then, a small shift in your breathing. A twitch of your fingers.

Zayne leaned forward just as your lashes fluttered, your eyes cracking open, only to squeeze shut again at the harsh fluorescent lights. You groaned softly, shifting against the sheets. Instinctively, you tried to sit up.

"Hey—stay put," Zayne said immediately, pressing a hand against your shoulder to keep you down. His touch was gentle but firm, his fingers warm even against the hospital gown. "Don’t move too much yet."

Your body resisted for a moment, muscles tensing as if you wanted to argue, but the disorientation dulled your fight. Your gaze finally settled on him, hazy with the remnants of sleep and confusion.

Then you frowned.

“…You look tired,” you murmured, your voice soft, still groggy. “How long have you been here?”

Zayne’s heart clenched so tightly it hurt. Even now, even when you were the one lying in a hospital bed, barely recovered from an accident, your first thoughts were about him.

His throat felt tight, but he exhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak. “You should look at yourself first, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flickered down, taking in the IV in your arm, the bruises along your wrist, the faint soreness that no doubt ached across your body. Zayne exhaled sharply and reached out, his fingertips tracing the side of your face before cupping your cheek fully. His thumb brushed lightly against your skin, as if grounding himself with the warmth of you. His eyes were moist, though no tears fell.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice low, raw in a way that stripped away every layer of his usual composure.

You parted your lips, breath hitching as if you were about to reassure him—to do what you always did, to let him off the hook, to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

But he didn’t let you.

“No,” he cut in firmly, shaking his head. “Not this time. This is the one time you shouldn’t be so understanding.” His jaw clenched, something bitter twisting in his expression. “I should have been there. We should have been celebrating our relationship. End of discussion.”

Silence settled between you.

After a beat, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair before looking at you again. “Why didn’t you demand my time?” His voice was quieter now, tinged with regret. “You had every right to.”

You hesitated, glancing away. “…I didn’t want to bother you.” Your fingers twisted into the hospital blanket, grip tightening slightly. “You’re important, Zayne. You save lives. I didn’t want to pull you away from that.”

Something in him snapped.

He let out a sharp breath, then reached for your hand, gently prying your fingers from the blanket. His grip was warm, grounding.

“Shh… And you think you’re not?” he murmured, shaking his head. “Don’t ever say that again.” His gaze bore into yours, unwavering. “You are important to me.”

"You’re important to me," he repeated, voice steady but almost desperate. "Just like my work makes demands of me, you are more than entitled to make demands of me, too."

Your eyes searched his, uncertainty flickering beneath the lingering haze of exhaustion. But Zayne’s gaze didn’t waver.

"I know I should have been there," he said again, quieter this time. He hesitated for only a fraction of a second before brushing a thumb over the edge of your jaw, tilting your face slightly. “When I saw you on this bed when I entered the ER… pale, unconscious… I haven’t felt fear like that before," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Not in all my years of doing this. Not like that."

You didn’t say anything, but your hand came up slowly, resting over his.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling.

This—this was what he almost lost.

His jaw clenched, then loosened as he exhaled. “I don’t want to ever feel it again.”

Another pause.

Zayne inhaled deeply, steadying himself. His hand still cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against your skin, as if reassuring himself that you were still here. That you were warm. That he hadn’t lost you.

“I know I say I’m sorry a lot… and it probably has lost meaning to you.” he murmured; his voice rough with emotion. His lips pressed into a thin line, as if struggling to put his feelings into something more tangible. “I should have been there. And I will be. Every step of the way until you’re fully recovered and after....”

His eyes flickered downward, scanning you like the doctor he was, but this was different. This wasn’t just clinical analysis—this was personal. "You got lucky," he admitted, exhaling through his nose. "Blunt force trauma to the ribs, a mild concussion, and a broken wrist. Some lacerations on your arm and leg, but nothing deep enough to require surgical intervention. The worst was the head trauma, but the scans came back clear. No bleeding, no swelling. That’s the only reason I’m not having a complete breakdown right now…" His fingers ghosted over your arm, careful not to apply pressure. "Nothing life-threatening or with lasting consequences. But still… you shouldn’t have had to go through that alone." His jaw tensed. "Not when you have me."

You gave him a small, tired smile at that, and something inside him twisted.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to reach into his pocket, his fingers closing around the small velvet box. He’d gone to his office to clock off for the day to be beside you when he picked it up from his drawer. The very box he wanted to give you today. The one that was supposed to be given in a far more joyful setting. This was supposed to be today. A night spent celebrating the two of you—not this. Not hospital beds and IV drips and the hollow fear that had nearly swallowed him whole.

But none of that mattered now.

What mattered was that you were here. And this… this was still yours.

His throat felt thick as he flipped it open, revealing the necklace inside—a delicate silver chain holding a white jasmine pendant, smooth and polished, its petals carved with intricate detail. And behind it, barely visible, were his initials.

His fingers trembled just slightly as he took it out.

"I was supposed to give this to you today," he admitted, voice lower now, almost guilty. "Before all of this. Before I let my own priorities get in the way of what really mattered." He glanced up at you, and for the first time in a long time, he looked vulnerable. "I don’t want you to ever think that you come second. Because you don’t. You never have."

Gently, he reached around your neck, his touch featherlight as he fastened the clasp. The cool metal of the pendant settled just above your collarbone, resting against your skin. His fingertips lingered there, just briefly.

Then he let out a slow breath, tilting your chin up just slightly with his knuckles. His mind still reeled with everything that had happened, with everything he should have done differently.

"I love you," he said, and this time there was no hesitation, no wry smirk to mask his emotions, no half-hearted deflection. Just honesty, raw and unguarded. "Even when I do a crappy job at showing it." He didn’t need you to say it back—he just needed you to know.

For a moment, silence stretched between you. Then, his lips quirked, just slightly, into something softer. "And since I’m apparently on mandatory bedside duty, I hope you’re ready to be completely spoiled. I’m talking fresh coffee, extra pillows, a ridiculous number of medical advices—"

A small, breathy laugh escaped you, and Zayne felt something in his chest loosen at the sound. Then, slowly, you lifted a hand, brushing your fingertips over the pendant before reaching up to cup his cheek.

Zayne leaned into your touch instinctively, exhaling softly. He smiled, finally, pressing his forehead lightly against yours. "Yeah," he murmured. "We’ll be just fine. I've got you sweetheart... I'll always be here for you."

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Rafayel version |

Taglist: @cordidy, @natimiles @leighsartworks216 @notisekais @raining4food @fallthelong @pomegranatepip @juliuscaesarsstabbedback @krystallevine @lemurianmaster @nenggie @loverindeepspace @sinsodom

686 notes · View notes

grimauxiliatrixofficial · 3 days ago

Text

We're not like at the point where cops ceding a bit of ground to progressive ideals, such as "immigrants shouldn't be rounded up and enslaved", is enough to make us go "WOWEEEE GOOD JOB COPS! WOKE COPS! I KNEW THERE WAS WOKE COPS!"

#like we get it fandom reaction image funnie wow this is nutzzzz #but theyre still the fucking cops.#and before you go “well its the right rhing happening from the wrong people!” “wow worst persons you know etcetc” nonsense we get it.#take your dubs where you can. but you need to be espousing some specific rhetoric or vouchsafe their Other beliefs. do not forget.

21K notes · View notes

hellfire--cult · 3 days ago

Text

The Tongue Piercing

+18 just some Eddie thots, where your boyfriend has a surprise for you. (established relationship, fem!reader, not proofread, oral - f receiving)

a/n: i literally saw the picture in the middle and went... wait....

“Today is all about you baby.” Your boyfriend said lovingly as he laid you back down on the bed. You only smiled lovingly as your head hit the pillows, his body crawling on top of you.

It wasn't uncommong for Eddie to want to pleasure you first instead of you. So when you got on your knees he immediately pulled you back up. Now kissing you, you could only moan in delight as his tongue piercing played with your tongue, something that had driven you insane when you met him for the first time a year ago.

When he invited you over all giddy, you knew something might be up. He always became excited when he had either something to tell you, or something to show you, or something he bought for you.

This time though, he didn’t. None of that happened, and the only reply you got was “I just missed you” with a smile on his face, dimples showing, and you were putty under his gaze in just a second, forgetting about it and not asking about it anymore. It seemed that was the case. He just missed you.

When he had come up from behind you when you were about to put on a shirt of his to sleep in, you knew what was going to happen and you let out a breath of contentment when his mouth hit the crook of your neck and shoulder. It’s been a while since you two could have a moment on your own. You lived with your sister and he lived with Wayne. Whenever you could come over, Wayne was home, and whenever Eddie could come over, your sister was at your apartment.

Tonight, you finally found some time alone, and maybe that’s why Eddie was giddy when he called you. You weren’t going to complain, not when he was kissing you senseless into the bed. His ball piercing danced on your tongue, making you moan in delight as his hands ran all over your body that was covered in a lovely sun dress, the heat giving you the opportunity to wear those dresses that Eddie had bought you because he claimed you looked good in them.

You knew it was just for easy access, and again, you weren't complaining.

Seconds later, he was already laying on his stomach, face deep in your cunt, your panties stuffed inside his back pocket and his tongue was lapping at you like a starved animal. Your hands gripped the bed sheets underneath you as your back arched towards him, moaning his name after days of not being able to do so.

“Always so ready for me, so sweet.” He mumbled into you and Eddie was really into eating you out. You’ve never seen or heard of someone who simply loves eating pussy. He loves it. He came in his pants a few times while eating you out, his hips not being able to stop when rutting into the mattress.

“Eddie, Eddie–” You knew he loved it when you repeated his name over and over, that it got him going and riled him up like never before. Your clit was flicked with the tip of his tongue a few times, before he pressed the ball of his tongue piercing against it, making you gasp with a smile on your lips.

Then, he stopped, the slurping coming to a halt, his hands leaving your ass where they were gripping on tightly to hold you in place. You were breathing heavily, brows frowning deeply, as the coil in your belly started washing away. He got up from the bed as you held yourself up on your elbows, looking at his every move as the shake of your legs started fading. Did something happen? He never stopped before, which made you a little worried something was going on down there.

“Everything okay?” He walked to his desk and you saw him move a little, his hands towards his face as he nodded.

“Yeah, my piercing twisted a bit so I’m changing it.” You never heard that before, but you didn’t have a tongue piercing, so you wouldn’t know. He turned around with a smirk on his face as he walked back towards you, crawling to get back in the position he was in before.

“You sure you want–”

“Absolutely.” And you fell back as the tip of his tongue flicked your clit again, a smile on your face as the heat came back at full force. Then he pressed his tongue against you and–

That felt a little weird. You could feel his tongue piercing more than usual, as if it were big, but it couldn’t be, could it? No, that’s– A moan ripped out of your chest when whatever that was passed by your clit. You raised yourself up on your elbows again, a frown deep in your eyebrows as you stared down at him. He pulled away with a grin on his lips.

“What the hell is that?” At your question, he put his tongue out and you saw a thick pill sized tongue piercing sitting on the expanse of the muscle. You tilted your head, completely confused, never in your life having seen that kind of piercing before. He put his tongue back in his mouth so he could be able to talk to you.

“Thought of you when I saw it, princess.” With elbows on the mattress, tongue sticking out again, you saw how his hands went to grab onto the piercing, pinching it on each side and then a twist of both hands, as if he were closing it. You heard something coming from outside, a little buzz but you were focused on Eddie adjusting his new piercing. You saw him chuckle as his tongue moved from side to side, his hands falling to grab your hips once again, his head moving back down to your cunt, and–

Your eyes widened as you felt him press that damn fucking thing on your clit and fuck– it’s a vibrator. It’s a small fucking tongue piercing vibrator.

“Holy shit, Eddie!” You smiled as you let out shaky breaths, your back falling back down on the bed as your legs spread even wider for him. His tongue was licking over and over again, flicking your clit with the piercing, feeling the vibrations on it that were making you tremble slightly.

“You like that, darling?” He asked and you could only muster a dumb ‘uh-huh’ as he resumed his work. His hips kept pressing against the mattress, his hard cock in his sweatpants getting the much needed friction as his tongue and lips kept moving magically on you.

His hands left your hips to be able to grip each side of your lips and spread you open, wide, your hole fluttering for him. You gasped as your hands gripped the sheets below you when you felt his tongue entering you and the vibrator made the sensation even more intense.

“Oh– it feels so fucking good–” It felt like an electric shock, having him spoil you like this wasn’t new for Eddie. This was one of the many things he surprised you with, letting you discover more and more factors about yourself you never cared to explore before. He is always putting you first whenever it came to sex, and at first you had told him it’s his pleasure too, to which he responded, ‘Oh, honey… seeing your contorted face is the biggest foreplay for me.’

Your back arched off the bed when the coil in your belly grew and grew just like before. His piercing was everywhere, and you felt it on every nerve of your body. He must have been eating you for minutes, his fingers now part of the job, and your legs couldn’t help but start shaking, tensing up as you felt your orgasm creeping in.

“Oh, I can feel you clenching around my tongue, you gonna cum baby?” You nodded, your mouth open with no words or even sounds coming out of it. Just small breaths of delight. You flinched and whimpered when you felt a slap right on top of your clit. “Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes, please– Keep going, Eddie, please–”

“Good fucking girl.” His tongue came back onto you, his fingers working inside of you, the squelching of your wet pussy being heard through the entire room. His tongue was pressed flat onto your clit, letting the vibrator work on it. Your hands flew to his head, gripping it tightly as your eyes slowly started to see stars.

You couldn’t talk anymore, nonsense spouting out of your mouth, begging, his name, moans, whines, cries. You reached the edge and plummeted down, hard, your walls clenching around his fingers, your hands pushing his head into you as you cried out his name and your body shook all over. He moved his head side to side, the piercing flicking your clit over and over in a harsh and fast manner that was making your orgasm extend.

It might have been your most intense orgasm yet, feeling like it lasted for ages. Once your walls unclenched slowly, your body falling flat on the bed, you could finally open your eyes and breathe. It felt like an out of body experience. Like you weren’t in this fucking realm and Eddie was your god.

“Baby~” You heard his teasing voice and you knew he had a smile from ear to ear. You were breathing heavily, still staring at the ceiling as your body twitched in the aftershocks. He pulled his fingers out of you, making you whimper and slowly climbed up to meet you. You could hear the vibration inside his mouth, his entire chin covered in your juices, making you clench around nothing again.

Insatiable.

“You– Where the fuck did you get that?” He chuckled, opening his mouth to twist one of the edges of the tongue piercing, turning it off.

“Sex shop. Where else? I didn’t even know these existed.” You could hear a certain lisp happening, making you smile through your heavy breaths.

“Well… a great purchase. You can take it off now…” He tilted his head at your request, humming. His hands went to the hem of your dress that was bunched up on your waist, moving it up and up and up until your tits were uncovered for him. He got his hand back into his mouth and your eyes when you started hearing the vibration again.

“Don’t think so.” He smirked, giving you one single peck on your lips before you saw him going back down, a moan ripped out of your throat when you felt the vibration on your right nipple.

You two declared the piercing was a must from now on.

---------------------------------

look im just a girl with lots of thots and needs and i didn't know these fucking existed until recently. my mind went directly to eddie. he would.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #eddie munson x you

655 notes · View notes

camryn-haitani · 3 days ago

Text

Old man, huh?

Bang Chan x Reader smut

you overhear stray kids joke about how bang chan is “getting sooo old” and you decide to join in. you’re sooo gonna regret that later (no you’re not)

TW: SMUT, age gap (chan is 28 and reader is 24), cursing, established relationship (the others don’t know but they think you’re best friends), ATEEZ mentioned (wooyoung), reader calls him channie, unprotected sex, chans spanking, names (baby, doll, sweetheart, love, pretty girl, good girl), cervix hitting, teasing, fingering (fem receiving), a lil slapping, creampie, chan calling himself “old man”, oral (male receiving), slight deep throating, aftercare

BARK BARK BARK WOOF BARK WOOF WOOF i love bang chan

you’re sitting in the corner, mindlessly scrolling tiktok looking at edits of bang chan, of stray kids practice room and the sound of han’s voice catches your attention.

“oh my gooood, he’s getting old.” han drags out. “it’s sad to think my fellow aussie is climbing up the age ladder.” felix wipes his fake tears. han notices your sitting in the corner and he gestures for you to join them in teasing chan. you get up to walk over to them and stand next to lee know.

“i can’t believe im gonna be planning his funeral soon.” you say dramatically. “i could’ve swore he was complaining about his hip yesterday.” said changbin. hyunjin nodded, “a couple days ago, it was his back. i heard him crack it at least 10 times when he bent down.” he added. yall almost fell on the floor from laughing.

all of you are laughing too much to even notice chan walking up behind you. you jump slightly when you feel a hand on your shoulder gently gripping more and more to get your attention.

“who’a complaining about a hip?” chan calmly asked, “and who’s funeral are you planning, y/n?” he gave a closed eyed smile. “uhhhh, oh what’s that, han? you need help with something?” you say as han catches your drift. “yeah yeah uhm it’s over here!” he says as yall both run out of the room. chan slowly look over at changbin and hyunjin, they know they’re next so they scramble for excuses. “oh my phones ringing,” changbin rushes to pull his not ringing phone out, “ah damn it’s wooyoung, i gotta take this.” he awkwardly laughs as he speed walks out. “uhm… uhhh… i’ll go help binnie with his phone call.” hyunjin panics. lee know and I.N just raise their hands innocently and back away.

some time passes where you completely forget about the events that happened. *knock* *knock* *KNOCK* the knocks got louder as they went. you’re kinda scared to open the door. before you can even exit your bedroom, keys jingle in the door knob. your heart rate quickens as they unlock the door and slam it open. before you can even comprehend that it’s chan, he’s all over you. big and veiny hands grip your chin and force your eyes into his.

“you want me to show you old man, huh?” chans voice deepens. you stayed silent, not knowing what to say as your panties get wetter and wetter knowing that you’re in trouble. “oh come on, pretty girl. you were talking such a big game when i was gone. speak up.” you still stayed silent, mind boggled as he continued to grip your chin. “fine you don’t wanna talk? i’ll make you talk.” chan pulls you to your couch and tugs your shorts and panties down.

your ass is now in full display for chan as your practically dripping on his pants. *SLAP* a red handprint already forming on the curve of your ass. “you wanna talk now, doll?” when you don’t answer quick enough, another slap was planted on you. chan was nice enough to rub the mark after. you were about to speak up when you felt his fingertips graze your wet pussy. you let out a weak and whiny moan. “that’s not the answer i was looking for. try again.” he retracts his fingers. you start to whine when another harsh slap was landed on your ass. “i- i was just joking, channie. please forgive me.” you plead.

“hmm, i’ll think about it.” his fingers go back to grazing your wet hole. you push back into his fingers but he immediately pulls them back. “nuh ah ahh, sweetheart. this is your punishment,” he teases, “every time you disobey me, i’ll make more handprints on this ass of mine.” chan says as he soothes where he’s already hit.

his cold rings brushing your inner thigh send a cold chill up your spine. chan puts his fingertips back to your heat and brushes them up and down, basically torturing you.

chan pulls you up after those tortured minutes and stands up. he unbuckles his belt and motions for you to do the rest. you crawl over to him and finish undoing his pants to free his achy cock. you look up at him through your lashes. “don’t look at me like that, you’re still in trouble,” he says, “i don’t care if your jaw hurts or you can’t do it anymore. you’re gonna suck my cock until i’m satisfied, got it?” he demands. you quickly nod and get to work.

you kitten lick the vein that trails along the side of his cock, putting more and more pressure the further you go up. chan lightly slaps your cheek, “no teasing me, doll, or it’s gonna get worse for ya.”

you stop teasing knowing he’s serious and finally take his tip on your tongue. he sucks his teeth and puts a hand behind your head. the further you go, the further he’s pushing your head. tears prick your eyes as his tip hits the back of your throat but you’re a trooper. you focus you’re breathing to your nose and take chan deeper. his moans get more whiny and faster as his hips move with your head. drool seeping down your chin and into the floor.

chan pulls your head back to stop him from cumming. he grips your chin again, he doesn’t care if your drool gets on his hands. “wanna see if if this ‘old man’ can fuck this pussy?” he asks as you nod your head vigorously. “i need words, sweet girl.” he said. “y-yes.” you stutter.

his ring covered fingers fall to your waist as he sets you over the armrest of the couch. he slaps your ass a couple times before molding his fingers in between the fat. his hand falls on your spine as he lines himself between you. chan coats his tip with your arousal as he purposefully bumps your clit with it just to tease you.

“chaaaaannie pleeeease.” you whine as you slightly kick your feet. “be patient, doll. the more you whine, the longer i’ll take.” he whispers in the shell of your ear. you let out a ‘hmph’ as he finally pushes himself more and more into you.

the way he’s moving is agonizing, you start to push back into him again but he gives you a slight slap. “what’d i say, baby. next time you do that, i’ll pull out and tease you more. you better be thankful i’m fucking you or else i’d leave you here to deal with this yourself. since i’m being so kind, you should thank me.”

and before you could even muster out a word, with one push he was all the way in you. your back now arched as far as it went, nails scratching the cushion, the whiniest moan drew from your lips. “i’m waiting for that thank you, doll.” he says as he trails his hand down to your ass. “tha-… thank youuuu, channieee.” you try and at least get some composure.

“such a good girl for me. since im feeling nice, ill start to move.” he draws his hips back and gently pushes back in sooo slow just to torment you.

he finally pick up the pace after you beg for a while. his tip kissing ever so roughly against your cervix to make you see white. the armrest of the couch is pressing against your stomach just enough for you to feel chan even more.

his hands land more harsh slaps against your ass and it feels so painfully good. every brush of your cervix brings you closer and closer to the edge. chan knows you and your body so well that you don’t even have to say your close, so he keeps his pace as his orgasm soon builds.

“cha-n i-im..”

“i know, pretty girl. just wait for me.”

the waves of pleasure crash down on both of you as he continues to ride his own. of course he’s an aftercare king, he cleans you with a warm rag, kisses your cheek, and puts your pants back on for you since your legs feel like jelly.

*brrt brrt brrt* you pick up the phone to answer the facetime.

han was calling.

and chan was shirtless behind you

“wait!” chan yells.

han gasps as he sees the sight of chan shirtless and your face flushed from the recent events “OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. DID YOU?” he points to you. “AND DID YOU?!” he points to chan through your screen. “EVERYTHING MAKES SENSE NOW.” han yells.

“haaaaaan, don’t tell anyone. we don’t want this to get out.” you plead. “of course, soldier.” he playfully salutes. “i’ll call you later, han.” you tell him. “youuuu better tell me everythi-“ you hang up before he finishes.

“well there goes us telling them. also, i’m gonna order some food. what’d do ya want, love?” chan asks as he leans against the counter, still shirtless. “burgers sound good.” you roll over to face him. “burgahs it is.”

“just make sure there no pineapple on them.” you joke. he gives you a playful glare.

chan accidentally drops his phone that startled you since you were on your phone. yall both laugh it off when he bends down to pick it up, you hear faint little pops. you slowly turn your head to look at him with slightly widened eyes.

“ugh i swear, my hip has been in so much pain recently. i wonder what… happened.” he realizes what he’s saying. you cover your mouth in shock. “did you just say what i think you just said.”

“not a word of this to anyone.” he threatens.

“nono of course noooot.” you sarcastically say as you discreetly pull out your phone to text your secret group chat with the others minus bang chan.

you: guys you will never believe what i just heard channie say

seungmin: girl what happened

seungmin: tell us everything

- - - - -

i love bang chan so much

sorry if it’s short :(

ateez and stray kids requests are open along with my other writings

#skz x reader #x reader #x y/n #smut #christopher bang #bang chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan stray kids #skz imagines #skz smut #x you #kpop x reader #stray kids x reader #i love bang chan #i’m feral

547 notes · View notes

miniscapes333 · 2 days ago

Text

How will your FS react to seeing you undressed? (18+)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2] 👇 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators. PILE 1

The moment their eyes land on you, something shifts in the air like the world itself forgets to keep spinning for just a breath. It’s that stunned silence, the kind that feels thick with anticipation, where their lips part just slightly, and a slow exhale escapes as if they’re trying to steady themselves against the sight of you. But there’s no steadying this reaction it’s pure, unfiltered hunger tangled with awe. Their gaze drags over you, lingering like a worshipper before a sacred vision, drinking in every curve, every dip of your skin, every whisper of heat radiating off you. A flicker of mischief plays in their eyes, dark and dangerously tempting, as if they’ve just unlocked a fantasy they never even knew they had. Hands flex at their sides like they’re fighting the urge to reach for you immediately, to trace every inch and commit it to memory.

But they don’t just want to touch they want to savor. They step forward, slow, deliberate, like a hunter to its prey, but there’s no rush in their movements. They want to see every single reaction you give them. Their fingers hover over you at first, teasing, barely grazing along your skin, watching as your breath stutters in response. A lazy smirk tugs at their lips because they can already see how easy it would be to unravel you. They let their fingers trail down your arm, then lower, ghosting over the heat of your thighs, before pulling back just when you think they’ll finally take what they want. They want you to beg for it, to feel the anticipation coil deep and tight until you can’t take it anymore. And when they finally let go of that restraint? It’s a storm. Hands gripping, lips pressing against heated skin, possessive and desperate like they’ve been starved for this moment.

But what truly undoes them isn’t just the sight of you it’s the way you meet their gaze, unshaken, bold, daring them to do something about it. That confidence? That fire in your eyes? It sets them ablaze. It’s not just about wanting you it’s the fact that you know exactly what kind of power you hold over them, and you’re not afraid to use it. That’s what shatters them completely. The way you push back, tease them just as much, make them work for it, make them need it. And by the time they do, there’s no turning back. They’re addicted. Hopelessly, helplessly obsessed. And something tells me, once they’ve had a taste of you like this? There’s no way they’ll ever be able to look at you the same again.

PILE 2

The second they see you fully, completely you watch something shift in them, a tension that grips their body like a force they weren’t ready for. Their breath hitches, their shoulders stiffen, and for a moment, they just look. Not just in passing, not just in hunger, but with something deeper. It’s reverence. Like they’re standing before something forbidden, something they’ve longed for but never dared to touch until now. Their hands flex at their sides, their jaw tightens, like they’re trying to rein themselves in, hold onto that last thread of control. But their eyes? Their eyes betray them completely. They darken, flicker with something primal, something dangerously close to worship. They swallow hard, as if grounding themselves, as if they need a moment to decide whether to be patient or let all that tension snap.

But patience is a fragile thing in moments like this. And you can see it unravel in real-time. They take a slow step forward, gaze tracing over you like they’re memorizing every dip, every line, every soft shadow of your body. Their fingers hover at your waist, not quite touching, just feeling the heat of you. And then, with a sharp inhale, they give in. Their hands find your skin, pressing, gripping not just to hold you, but to ground themselves in you. Their lips part, a shaky exhale slipping out, and their forehead brushes against yours for a fleeting second, as if to steady the storm that’s building inside them. But it’s no use. The restraint is slipping, and they know it. You can feel it in the way their fingers tighten, in the way their breath grows heavier, in the way their gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips like they’re caught in an impossible choice devour you slowly or completely lose themselves in the moment.

And when that control finally snaps? It’s all-consuming. There’s nothing delicate about it now. It’s hands roaming, lips pressing, teeth grazing like they need you, like they’ve waited too long to have you like this. They don’t just want to touch; they want to feel. Every reaction, every gasp, every shiver that ripples through you. And you? You can tell this isn’t just lust. It’s something deeper, something that makes them pause even as they take you apart piece by piece. Because this isn’t just about desire it’s about surrender. And in this moment, you can see it so clearly: they may have started this trying to hold back, but now? Now they’re yours, completely, entirely, with no escape.

PILE 3

The moment their eyes land on you, standing there in nothing but the heat between you, you can feel the air shift. Their breath stills, their body tightens like they’re fighting something inside themselves, something deep and primal that begs to take over. Their lips part, a sharp inhale as their fingers twitch at their sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for you immediately. But the restraint? Oh, it’s delicious. You can see the way they wrestle with it, the way their gaze flickers across your skin, drinking you in with something close to reverence, something greedy but restrained. They hold themselves back not because they don’t want, but because they want too much. Because this moment, you, are something to be savored.

You watch their throat bob as they swallow hard, hands clenching, unclenching, like they’re debating whether to take their time or give in to the need clawing at them. And then, with a slow, deep exhale, they step forward, their palm ghosting along your arm, trailing up to your collarbone barely touching, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. Their fingers follow the curve of your shoulder, down the dip of your back, learning you, memorizing you. Their other hand, still balled into a fist, finally relaxes as they bring it up to cup your face, tilting your chin ever so slightly. Their eyes search yours, full of heat, admiration, something softer beneath it all. You’re beautiful. The words don’t even have to be spoken; they’re written in the way they look at you, in the way their breath stutters when their fingers trace lower, in the way they close their eyes for just a second, as if grounding themselves in the moment in you.

And when they finally lose that last thread of control? It’s slow, deliberate, like they’re making a promise with every touch. Their lips hover over yours, teasing, testing, before pressing in not rushed, not desperate, but deep, lingering, full of something that makes your stomach flip. Their hands roam, fingers splaying across your hips, your waist, pulling you flush against them, as if needing to feel every inch of you. Every gasp, every subtle movement you make only fuels them further, makes them grip tighter, makes them need more. But there’s something tender in it too, something that tells you this isn’t just hunger it’s appreciation, admiration. Like they’ve just been handed something precious, and they’ll be damned if they don’t show you exactly how much it means to them.

Single questions :

(you can choose the number of questions)

Any (18+) questions = 5$ each

Any other questions = 4$ each

Reading Packs (Offer)

3 QUESTIONS (18+) = 12$

3 GENERAL QUESTIONS = 10$

All readings are delivered in 24 hrs

320 notes · View notes

ranthaven · 4 hours ago

Text

I’m with Governor Pritzker.

I used to live in Pulaski, TN in the mid 90s for five years. If you don’t know anything about that town, it’s a small town in a rural county an hour south of Nashville and the county borders on Alabama. Somewhat more noteworthy, Pulaski is the town where the KKK was created after the Civil War. The building where they held the first meeting still stands today with a very small plaque so that people never forget. Some people say Nathan Bedford Forrest was involved, but I am not aware of any evidence of that.

Living in Pulaski was a choice of necessity as the only employer who would hire me to be a librarian was there. It was a small, private college that today is a branch of the state university system. We were in a recession that greatly affected public institutions like state and local governments, schools and colleges, and so on. I took what I could get and learned a lot there.

Back to the Klan theme. Every January for some years before and after we were there, a white supremacist who lived in Arkansas would organize a weekend of public obnoxiousness with other white power, Nazi, and such groups. December 25th was the date the original KKK meeting had taken place, but nobody would allow a rally of any sort over the holiday. So, they would come to town on a Friday night in January and try to stir up trouble everywhere. On Saturday, they would take over the town square around the county courthouse and have speeches and “music�� (really terrible bands) and chants. Once they finally got cold and tired, any of them who remained would go out to a farm a little northwest of town where the farmer would let them have a cross burning and bonfire in his field. On Sunday, they would all be gone, the local churches not taking any of them in for services.

No one ever tried to stop them. All the businesses on the square would be closed, and many in the surrounding blocks, as well. A lot of the town would turn out to hold an antiracism parade that would have two to three times more people and nearly fill the streets. This was almost entirely locals both black and white, with some coming from neighboring towns and counties. The Tennessee Bureau of Investigation (TBI) and state police would join the local cops to keep watch on rally and help the opposing parade remain orderly and peaceful.

It was obvious that the right thing to do was either join the parade. When in the parade we’d keep company with anyone we knew in the black community. A lot of them took courses at the college in our evening program, so I got to know them as we had little connectivity to the internet of the time (AOL numbers were all long distance) and we did our best to be a good academic library.

So, Governor Pritzker is right on point. If we don’t stand up now, we may not get the chance later on. Don’t wait.

There are people – some in my own Party – who think that if you just give Donald Trump everything he wants, he’ll make an exception and spare you some of the harm. I’ll ignore the moral abdication of that position for just a second to say — almost none of those people have the experience with this President that I do. I once swallowed my pride to offer him what he values most — public praise on the Sunday news shows — in return for ventilators and N95 masks during the worst of the pandemic. We made a deal. And it turns out his promises were as broken as the BIPAP machines he sent us instead of ventilators. Going along to get along does not work – just ask the Trump-fearing red state Governors who are dealing with the same cuts that we are. I won’t be fooled twice.

I’ve been reflecting, these past four weeks, on two important parts of my life: my work helping to build the Illinois Holocaust Museum and the two times I’ve had the privilege of reciting the oath of office for Illinois Governor.

As some of you know, Skokie, Illinois once had one of the largest populations of Holocaust survivors anywhere in the world. In 1978, Nazis decided they wanted to march there.

The leaders of that march knew that the images of Swastika clad young men goose stepping down a peaceful suburban street would terrorize the local Jewish population – so many of whom had never recovered from their time in German concentration camps.

The prospect of that march sparked a legal fight that went all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a Jewish lawyer from the ACLU who argued the case for the Nazis – contending that even the most hateful of speech was protected under the first amendment.

As an American and a Jew, I find it difficult to resolve my feelings around that Supreme Court case – but I am grateful that the prospect of Nazis marching in their streets spurred the survivors and other Skokie residents to act. They joined together to form the Holocaust Memorial Foundation and built the first Illinois Holocaust Museum in a storefront in 1981 – a small but important forerunner to the one I helped build thirty years later.

I do not invoke the specter of Nazis lightly. But I know the history intimately — and have spent more time than probably anyone in this room with people who survived the Holocaust. Here’s what I’ve learned – the root that tears apart your house’s foundation begins as a seed – a seed of distrust and hate and blame.

The seed that grew into a dictatorship in Europe a lifetime ago didn’t arrive overnight. It started with everyday Germans mad about inflation and looking for someone to blame.

I’m watching with a foreboding dread what is happening in our country right now. A president who watches a plane go down in the Potomac – and suggests — without facts or findings — that a diversity hire is responsible for the crash. Or the Missouri Attorney General who just sued Starbucks – arguing that consumers pay higher prices for their coffee because the baristas are too “female” and “nonwhite.” The authoritarian playbook is laid bare here: They point to a group of people who don’t look like you and tell you to blame them for your problems.

I just have one question: What comes next? After we’ve discriminated against, deported or disparaged all the immigrants and the gay and lesbian and transgender people, the developmentally disabled, the women and the minorities – once we’ve ostracized our neighbors and betrayed our friends – After that, when the problems we started with are still there staring us in the face – what comes next.

All the atrocities of human history lurk in the answer to that question. And if we don’t want to repeat history – then for God’s sake in this moment we better be strong enough to learn from it.

I swore the following oath on Abraham Lincoln’s Bible: “I do solemnly swear that I will support the constitution of the United States, and the constitution of the state of Illinois, and that I will faithfully discharge the duties of the office of Governor .... according to the best of my ability.

My oath is to the Constitution of our state and of our country. We don’t have kings in America – and I don’t intend to bend the knee to one. I am not speaking up in service to my ambitions — but in deference to my obligations.

If you think I’m overreacting and sounding the alarm too soon, consider this:

It took the Nazis one month, three weeks, two days, eight hours and 40 minutes to dismantle a constitutional republic. All I’m saying is when the five-alarm fire starts to burn, every good person better be ready to man a post with a bucket of water if you want to stop it from raging out of control.

Those Illinois Nazis did end up holding their march in 1978 – just not in Skokie. After all the blowback from the case, they decided to march in Chicago instead. Only twenty of them showed up. But 2000 people came to counter protest. The Chicago Tribune reported that day that the “rally sputtered to an unspectacular end after ten minutes.” It was Illinoisans who smothered those embers before they could burn into a flame.

Tyranny requires your fear and your silence and your compliance. Democracy requires your courage. So gather your justice and humanity, Illinois, and do not let the “tragic spirit of despair” overcome us when our country needs us the most.

Sources:

• NBC Chicago & J.B. Pritzker, Democratic governor of Illinois, State of the State address 2025: Watch speech here | Full text

• Betches News on Instagram (screencaps)

#human rights #skin color is not disqualifying #anyone’s sex or gender or pronouns are no one else’s business #our freedom is NOT for sale

77K notes · View notes

holyblonded · 20 hours ago

Text

lost and found | stargirl

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, barcelona femeni x teen!teader

summary: you get lost in the city of london, causing the team to panic

warnings: light angst i would say

notes: decision day is slowly approaching and i still haven’t figured out where i am going 💔

“You have your toothbrush?”

“Yes, Olga.”

“Your Switch?”

“Yes, Olga.”

“Did you pack your gum? I know you only like that specific brand.”

“In my front pocket, Ol.”

“And what about—”

“Ay!” Alexia’s voice cut through the rapid-fire questions as she appeared at the top of the stairs, suitcase rolling behind her. “The game is in England, not Australia.”

Olga shot her a glare. “I’m just making sure she has everything.”

“You’re acting like she’s going off to war,” Alexia huffed, joining the two of you at the door. “We’ll be back in three days. And you’ve asked her about her toothbrush three times already.”

“I just don’t want her to forget anything,” Olga argued, crossing her arms. “She always forgets something.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Alexia beat you to it. “She’s not a child, Olga. She’s sixteen now, not five.”

“Exactly! Sixteen! Still a kid.”

“I’m right here, you know,” you cut in, hands on your hips. “I can pack my own suitcase.”

Both women looked at you, then at each other, then back at you. “No, you can’t,” they said in unison.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not that forgetful.”

Olga raised an eyebrow. “Really? Last time you forgot your phone charger.”

“And your cleats,” Alexia added. “You had to borrow Lucy’s, and they were two sizes too big.”

Your cheeks flushed. “That was one time.”

Olga folded her arms, giving you a pointed look. “You also forgot your passport for the Madrid trip.”

“That was… also one time.”

Alexia snorted, shaking her head. “You nearly gave the whole team a heart attack when we realized at the airport.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Okay, fine. Maybe I forget a few things.”

“A few?” Olga scoffed. “You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body.”

Alexia laughed, reaching out to ruffle your hair. “Don’t be too hard on her. She’s just excited.”

You swatted her hand away, scowling. “I’m not a kid.”

“No,” Olga agreed, grabbing your suitcase and giving it a once-over. “You’re a teenager who needs to be reminded to pack her gum.”

You looked at her, exasperated. “I packed it! It’s in my front pocket. How many times do I have to say it?”

Olga narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing you. She unzipped the front pocket of your backpack, digging around before pulling out the pack of gum triumphantly. “Okay, good. You’re off the hook for this one.”

Alexia laughed, shaking her head. “Olga, you’re acting like she’s going off to college, not an away game.”

“Someone has to be responsible,” Olga defended. “Especially since you’re the one who taught her how to pack last minute.”

You grinned. “Yeah, Ale, you did teach me that.”

Alexia rolled her eyes, feigning offense. “I taught you how to pack efficiently, not forget half your things.”

“Sure, sure.” You gave her a cheeky grin. “Whatever you say, ‘last-minute queen.’”

Olga looked between you two, hands on her hips. “Great. Now there are two of you.”

You and Alexia shared a look before bursting into laughter.

Olga sighed, shaking her head. “Unbelievable. I’m surrounded by chaos.”

“Aw, come on, Ol,” you teased, nudging her arm. “You love us.”

She huffed, but her eyes softened. “Unfortunately, I do. Now, let’s get going before you two make us late.”

You grabbed your bag, giving her a playful salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

Alexia laughed, grabbing her suitcase. “Come on, chaos queen. Let’s go win a game.”

The three of you headed out the door, Olga grumbling about being stuck with the most forgetful people on the planet while you and Alexia shared a conspiratorial grin.

The plane had barely taken off, and you were already on your third lap around the cabin. There was just something about private planes that filled you with an uncontrollable burst of energy. Maybe it was the excitement of the upcoming game. Maybe it was the sugary snacks you’d snuck on board. Either way, you were bouncing off the walls, much to the team’s dismay.

“Estrella, sit down!” Patri shouted as you zoomed past her, nearly knocking over her water bottle.

“Can’t catch me!” you yelled back, leaping over Aitana’s outstretched legs as she tried to trip you.

Pina watched you with wide eyes, probably fearing for her life. “She’s going to bring the plane down,” she muttered to Marta, who just shook her head in resignation.

“You’d think she’s never been on a plane before,” Marta sighed, crossing her arms. “Does she have an off switch?”

“Apparently not,” Patri answered, dodging you again as you sped by, this time with a bag of chips in hand. “Estrella, those aren’t even yours!”

“Finders keepers!” you shouted, shoving another handful into your mouth as you took another lap.

Alexia’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding. “Estrelleta. Sit. Down. Now.”

You skidded to a halt, nearly crashing into the seat in front of you. Turning around slowly, you met Alexia’s fierce glare. Her arms were crossed, her jaw set. She looked like she was about to lecture you into next week.

“Uh… just stretching my legs?” you tried, giving her your best innocent smile.

“Sit. Here.” She pointed to the empty seat next to her, leaving no room for argument.

You swallowed, trudging over to her like a scolded puppy. She waited until you were buckled in before giving you a look that made you shrink an inch. “You’re grounded for the rest of this flight,” she said firmly. “No more running. No more stealing snacks. And no more bothering the team.”

You opened your mouth to argue but were silenced by her raised eyebrow. “Yes, Ale,” you mumbled, slumping into your seat.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, jerking violently. You barely moved, used to the occasional bumps. But Alexia… she went rigid. Her hands gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her face lost all color, and she looked straight ahead, eyes wide and unblinking.

You blinked at her. “Uh… Ale?”

She didn’t respond. Her breathing quickened, and she looked like she was about to pass out. The plane dipped again, and she grabbed your arm, fingers digging into your skin. Hard.

You yelped. “Ale! You’re crushing me!”

Her grip tightened. “We’re going to die,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

Your eyes widened. “What? No, we’re not! It’s just a little turbulence!”

“We’re going to crash. I knew it. I knew we should’ve taken the bus.”

“Ale, we’re over the ocean.”

She didn’t seem to hear you, her panic in full force now. Her nails dug into your arm as the plane shuddered again. You tried to pry her fingers off, but she was holding on with the strength of a hundred angry lions.

You looked around, desperate for help. Across the aisle, Lucy was watching, a smirk playing on her lips. You locked eyes with her, mouthing, Help me!

Lucy’s smirk widened. She leaned back in her seat, closed her eyes, and pretended to sleep.

Your jaw dropped at the betrayal.

You tried again to wriggle out of Alexia’s death grip, but she was unmovable, her eyes fixed on the seat in front of her like she was facing down her worst nightmare. “Ale, seriously, you’re cutting off my circulation!”

“If I die, you’re grounded forever,” she mumbled, voice trembling.

You groaned, slumping back in your seat. “If I survive this, you owe me so many snacks.”

Another bump, and Alexia’s grip tightened even more. You bit back a scream, deciding right then and there that you would never, ever run around on a plane again…. at least not when Alexia was onboard.

You walk with the team through the unfamiliar city streets, taking in the crisp air and the buzz of the city as you fall into step beside Aitana. Your hands are stuffed into your pockets, your head on a swivel as you soak in the sights. It’s a routine walk before the big Champions League match, meant to loosen up your muscles and calm any nerves.

The air is charged with anticipation, and you can’t help the bounce in your step.

Aitana’s talking about something, probably the opponent’s midfield setup or a funny meme she saw, but you’re barely listening. Something’s caught your eye. You slow your pace, the rest of the group moving ahead as you stop in front of a shop window.

Your heart skips a beat. Plushies. The cutest plushies you’ve ever seen. A row of them, perfectly lined up behind the glass, big eyes sparkling and tiny paws outstretched. There are kittens, puppies, even a little fox that looks just like the one you used to carry around as a kid.

You press your face against the glass, eyes wide. You need them. All of them.

You look over your shoulder. The team is a few paces ahead, their laughter echoing down the street.

Without a second thought, you slip into the store, the bell above the door chiming as you enter. You’re immediately overwhelmed by the sheer amount of cuteness in the small shop. Shelves upon shelves of plushies, each one more adorable than the last.

Meanwhile, Alexia’s heart is racing. She glances over her shoulder, expecting to see you trailing behind Aitana, your usual spot during these walks. But you’re not there. Her chest tightens.

“Has anyone seen Estrella?” she asks, voice sharp. Her eyes scan the group, counting heads. You’re not there.

Aitana turns, a frown forming. “She was right behind me…” Her voice trails off, eyes widening. “Oh no.”

Panic sets in fast. Irene’s head whips around, searching the street. Marta’s already jogging back the way they came, eyes darting from alleyways to storefronts.

“Estrelleta!” Alexia shouts, her voice echoing down the street. She doesn’t care about the stares from strangers or the worried looks from her teammates. Her chest is tight, her stomach churning. You’re gone.

Irene puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing tightly. “We’ll find her. She couldn’t have gone far.”

“She’s sixteen,” Alexia hisses, her voice cracking. “In a city she doesn’t know. Alone.”

The rest of the team is buzzing with nervous energy, faces pale and eyes wide. They’ve all seen you sneak off before, but never like this. Never without telling someone where you’re going.

“She was here just a minute ago,” Patri says, voice trembling. “I should’ve been paying attention.”

“We all should’ve,” Marta snaps, more at herself than anyone else. “Where the hell did she go?”

Alexia’s head is spinning. Images flash through her mind, dark alleys, strangers with bad intentions, you calling out for help and no one hearing you. Her heart races, her hands shaking as she digs out her phone. She tries calling you, but it goes straight to voicemail.

“Damn it!” She curses, panic twisting her gut. “Where are you?”

“We should split up,” Keira suggests, her voice urgent. “Cover more ground.”

“Agreed,” Irene says. “Alexia, you and Lucy check that way. We’ll go down the other street.”

Alexia’s moving before she can even think, Lucy at her side as they jog down the sidewalk, eyes scanning every corner, every doorway. She can feel her pulse in her throat, panic clawing at her insides. If something happened to you…

She shakes her head. She can’t think like that. You’re strong. Smart. But you’re also sixteen, and impulsive, and sometimes you don’t think things through.

Her chest tightens again. You’re also hers to protect.

“Estrella!” she shouts again, her voice breaking. “Where are you?”

Lucy grabs her arm, forcing her to stop. “Alexia, breathe. We’ll find her.”

Alexia presses her hands to her face, fighting back the tears threatening to spill over. She can’t fall apart. Not now. Not when you need her. Then, she hears it.

“Oi! Where’d you guys go?”

Her head snaps up. You’re standing on the corner, arms full of plushies, eyes wide in confusion.

Alexia’s legs nearly give out in relief. She rushes toward you, eyes blazing. “Where the hell were you?”

You blink, looking down at the armful of stuffed animals. “Uh… I saw these and…”

“You saw plushies?” Her voice is shaking, fury and relief battling for dominance. “You saw plushies and decided to leave without telling anyone?”

Your face falls. “I was gonna catch up—”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” Her voice cracks, and you realize just how shaken she is.

Your heart sinks. “I’m sorry, Alexia. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She exhales, her shoulders slumping. She pulls you into a tight hug, nearly crushing the plushies between you. “Don’t ever do that again,” she whispers, voice thick with emotion. “Don’t you dare scare me like that again.”

You nod against her shoulder, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I won’t. I promise.”

Irene, Marta, and the rest of the team catch up, relief washing over their faces as they see you safe and sound. Aitana looks at the plushies and bursts out laughing. “Seriously? That’s what you were doing?”

You sheepishly hold up the fox. “He looked lonely.”

Pina snorts. “You’re unbelievable.”

Alexia pulls back, wiping her eyes before anyone can see. “You’re grounded.”

Your eyes widen. “What? Why?”

“For making me worry,” she snaps, but there’s no real anger behind it. Just pure relief. “And for sneaking off like that.”

You open your mouth to protest, but her fierce glare shuts you up. “After the match, you’re grounded. No arguments.”

You sigh, but a small smile tugs at your lips. “Fine. But can I at least keep the plushies?”

Alexia looks at the fox, then at your pleading face, and finally relents. “Fine. But they’re staying in the hotel room. Got it?”

“Got it.”

She pulls you in for another hug, holding you tightly. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” she whispers.

You nod, hugging her back. “I won’t. I promise.”

As the team gathers around you, all joking and teasing, you realize just how loved you are. And as Alexia keeps you close for the rest of the walk, you understand just how much you mean to her.

#barca femeni x teen!reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barca x reader #barca femeni #barcelona femeni x teen!reader #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas x teen!reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso x platonic!reader #woso x teen!reader #woso x reader #woso community #woso #⋆｡˚ stargirl

277 notes · View notes

sunsburns · 3 days ago

Note

honestly i feel like joaquin gives best friends to lovers vibes. and the moment you realize he likes you (meanwhile you've liked him for years) is gonna be in the middle of one of those heated arguments you have with each other bc he's jealous of the new guy you're seeing but one of you is stubborn and doesn't wanna admit it. idk if this counts as a request but if you like the idea i'd love to see you write something abt it!!

yes yes! i feel like it would be even better if the two of you had been working together for soo long too. like you’re in the middle of a stakeout or a mission and he’s suddenly bringing it up for the first time, trying to be all suave and subtle and you’re like ????

the stakeout had been dragging for hours.

the two of you were stationed in an unmarked van on a dimly lit street, watching the back entrance of an old warehouse where your target was supposed to show. you and joaquín torres had done plenty of missions like this before—long hours, bad takeout, and enough banter to keep you both from losing it.

except this time, he wasn’t talking.

not really, anyway. he was pretending to be busy, fiddling with the comms setup even if it had already been working fine since the start of the op.

the van was cramped, parked just far enough from the target building to stay out of sight. the only light inside comes from the dim glow of yours tablet and the occasional flicker of streetlights through the tinted windows.

and then, out of nowhere—

“you never did tell me how your date went last week.”

you barely heard him over the quiet hum of the surveillance feed. your attention is fixed on the warehouse across the street, waiting for movement, but his words pull you out of it.

you glance over, catching him looking away the second you do. subtlety had never been his strong suit.

“i didn’t think you’d want to know,” you said, testing the waters.

“of course i do.”

something in his voice made you pause. it wasn’t the usual teasing or lighthearted prodding—it was earnest. which was odd, considering the first time you brought it up there had been no jokes and joaquín had not been this curious. if anything, he’d gone uncharacteristically quiet, then changed the subject entirely.

but you’d brushed it off at the time.

still, you decide to humour him. “it went well.”

silence. then the soft creak of leather as he shifts in his seat.

“so, is there a second date coming?”

the casual tone didn’t fool you.

you smiled, mostly to yourself. “maybe.”

you expect some kind of quip, a halfhearted joke to brush it off. but you didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened, how his fingers flexed against his knee.

for someone who was an expert at recon, joaquín was terrible at hiding his tells. always had been. every thought he had crossed his face before he could stop it, which is why you’ve never had to second-guess him.

but that? that was weird.

“why? do you care?” you ask, turning slightly toward him.

“i don’t,” he said too quickly. “just wondering if i gotta learn this guy’s name or not.”

your smile grew wider. “oh? so you do care.”

he finally looked at you, “that’s not what i—“ he exhaled sharply. “forget it.”

you couldn’t.

you studied him for a moment, the furrow in his brow, the slight clench of his jaw. this was the longest conversation you’ve had outside of mission chatter in a week. and now he suddenly wanted to know about your love life?

“joaquín,” you started, voice slower now. “if there’s something you wanna say—“

“i only care when it affects our work.”

that made you bristle. “oh. am i too distracted for you?”

“that’s not what i said.”

“it’s exactly what you said.” you turned toward him fully now, forgetting about the stakeout for a second. “you didn’t have a problem last week when i was watching your six, but suddenly i go on a date and now i’m not focused enough for you?”

“that’s not—“ he stopped himself, dragging a hand down his face. “tu—you’re impossible.”

“like you’re any better,” you fired back. “you’ve been acting weird ever since i mentioned this guy, and now you’re bringing it up in the middle of a mission like it’s relevant intel? what’s your deal, torres? what’s going on? what are you trying to say?”

he pressed his lips together, clearly debating something. you knew him well enough to see the war happening behind his eyes, the push and pull of something he'd been trying to keep locked down.

“i’m not—i’m not trying to say anything,” he muttered.

your eyes narrowed. “bullshit.”

his lips curled into something sour, “i don’t get you sometimes.” his voice was lower now, “you’ll pick up on the smallest details in the field, but when it comes to this?” he gestured vaguely between the two of you, frustrated, “it’s like you’re choosing not to see it.”

that stopped you cold.

because for a second—for one stupid, fleeting second—you let yourself think about it. really think about it.

like the way joaquín always made sure you had the last protein bar on long missions, even if it meant going without. or the way he always covered your blind spots in a fight, positioning himself between you and danger without hesitation. the way his voice changed when he spoke to you, softening in a way it never did for anyone else.

the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

god.

your stomach twisted. you had spent so long convincing yourself that none of it meant anything. that it was just who he was—loyal, protective, a damn good partner. that was the only way you had managed to push your feelings down, to keep yourself from ruining what you had with him.

because the truth?

you had been in love with joaquín torres for years.

and it had been eating you alive.

the only reason you had gone out with someone else at all was because you had needed to move on. you couldn’t keep wanting something that wasn��t yours. couldn’t keep looking at him like he hung the damn moon when he was always just out of reach.

but now—now—he was looking at you like he was waiting for you to say something. like he wanted you to see it.

like maybe you hadn’t been crazy all along.

“joaquín.”

he just shook his head, frowning like he was mad at himself for even saying anything. “doesn’t matter.” the frustration drained from his voice, leaving behind something hollow. “forget i said anything.”

then he turned away like the conversation was over.

but it wasn’t.

because now, there was no taking it back.

and you weren’t sure if you even wanted to.

before you could respond, sam’s voice crackled over the comms.

“guys," he said, slow and unimpressed. “you do realize your mic is on, right?”

heat flooded your face.

joaquín scrambled to reach for the radio, red in the face. “sorry. must’ve turned it on by accident.”

“glad we’re getting some entertainment while we wait, sam continued, and you could almost see that grin on his face. “but unless you two wanna keep broadcasting your love confession to the team, maybe save it for after the mission?”

#i couldn't not add sam into this #had too much fun writing this oops #now i need to come up with a tag for joaquín #any ideas?#faye’s writing ⭑.ᐟ #joaquín torres #joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x you #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres fluff #joaquin torres fic #joaquin torres fanfiction #the falcon #the falcon x reader

410 notes · View notes

imsofreakingtired · 3 days ago

Note

So i just thought of this. Age gap romance is hot and all but lets be fr, it aint long before the younger one is gonna watch their old lover slowly slip away as time pass by. Imagine reader is just there, holding sevika's hand (who's now old, like really old, basically in her death bed) slightly tearing up, knowing it aint long before she passes away.

Side note: Hi, I've been stalking your page for a while, so apologies if im sometimes blasting your notifications, I really love your incorrect quotes xD they always made my day.

pls dont apologize!! i love it when u pop up in my inbox or in the notes!! ...but you are gonna KILL me with this ask. i’m gonna fight tooth and nail to make this at least a little fluffy bc my mental stability is hanging on by a thread as it is

hcs: with her to the end

this was bittersweet to write…oh i pray i just want her to live a long and fulfilling and peaceful life :((

the age gap between you and sevika is roughly ~20 yrs (she is in her early 40s by the end of canon). when the two of you first start seeing each other, Sevika agonizes over this in silence. she knows she loves you, wants to commit to you as long as you’ll have her. but she doesn’t want to hold you back. doesn’t want to take you away from the prime of your life. she’s also half convinced you’ll leave her as soon as her age catches up. she’ll express these anxieties in jokes, but you see right through her. like if she forgets something important and you tease her for it, she’ll crack a smile and say “yeah, I’m two more slips away from the nursing home, huh?” and you look at her seriously and say “nice try. you’re not getting away that easy, woman—you’re stuck with me.”

the streaks of grey in her hair will eventually cover her head and she decides to just get a buzzcut. you never miss a moment to tell her how beautiful she is. because she is. seated at her council seat, now a respected Zaunite representative, swathed in her cloaks of deep colors, her grey eyes as piercing as ever. the wrinkles in her face tell stories of unimaginable pain and endurance, they are markers of her survival. and the charming lines at the corners of her eyes show the joy she discovered when she met you.

as she ages she’ll become more irritable, her vision and hearing declines and she can’t move as easily as she used to. snaps at everyone who tries to help—the only person she is okay with taking care of her is you.

as her memory fades you sit by her for long, quiet hours, telling her stories of her own achievements. reminding her of the hopes she had for Zaun. quietly passing over the darkest memories. she never quite believes you when you tell her about all that she has done, how important she was to the revolution. “I did that? I rallied them together for the battle at Noxus?” “Yes, Vika. It was all you.”

she falls in love with you like it’s the first time, over and over again. calls your name out in a troubled tone after a nap, thinking you’re gone. when you emerge in the doorway a relieved smile spreads over her face and she holds out her right hand to you. you wrap your hands over hers, her once-strong fingers now bent and spotted, and kiss her cheek. “I was just in the garden. I’m not going anywhere, love. Don’t worry.”

you fill the house with flowers and sunlight. you tend to the garden and bring in fresh flowers every morning. you wrap her in blankets when she gets too cold, cook her the foods she remembers from childhood, and read to her until she dozes off in her chair. when the doctors tell you she will not have much time left, you throw aside all your external duties to spend every minute of the day with her. you don’t want to think about a future without her, so you make the most of every moment you spend with her. even when long stretches of time pass where she looks at you and doesn’t recognize your face. when she calls you by another name, or forgets your name altogether.

when Sevika passes away, it will be quiet. it will be warm and peaceful and painless. you were sitting at the bedside, holding her hand, chatting to her in a low voice about little nothings. when she leans back and closes her eyes, as softly as if going to sleep, you know it is time. she has always slept with a scowl on her face, as if ready for danger even in sleep. but this time her brows are relaxed, a deep peace settling on her expression.

and there’ll be a great funeral ceremony for the Zaunite Councilor; the bridges will be decked in her colors and people from Zaun and Piltover alike crowd the streets to mourn her passing. she was one of the greatest leaders of the revolution the cities had ever known, and you take comfort in knowing her deeds will be remembered, her legacy cherished.

sometimes you walk through the rooms late at night, unable to sleep without the sound of her deep breathing, thinking of all the memories you shared with her. it feels sometimes that she has only gone away on one of her business trips and will come through the door at any moment, tall and strong, demanding in her low voice, “where’s my girl?” but you know she is at peace and that she passed knowing she was loved and valued. and you know it will not be too long before you will join her again, wherever she is now—far from the pain, but still close to you.

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika headcanon #sevika angst #sevika fluff #soft sevika #arcane

297 notes · View notes

queen-mihai · 2 days ago

Text

It's this thing where every country on earth follows America's lead.

And it's honestly one of the dumbest, most idiotic things our planet does.

Norway's king, Harald: is THIS the level of leadership you want to be remembered for? "Just do whatever America does but a little nicer"?

Friedrich Merz, I'm looking you straight in the face and asking you, is this "Monkey see, monkey do"? Is that the level of fucking leadership you really think your people want to see?

King Felipe of Spain, is your style of leadership just "a little nicer than America but mostly just do the same thing they're doing"?

Every leader in the world has a tendency to do this shit and it's time to stop. It's time to use your own brain and listen to YOUR people because

They

Are

SCREAMING

For you to make better decisions and not just follow America's shitty lead.

Forget left vs right. There is almost nothing in the universe that's just "this or that". That's not how anything works and in your heart of hearts you KNOW IT.

This shit is big and complex and complicated and your people are telling you what they want. It's your job to weave through that tapestry and find the answers that work the best for the world around you. Pay attention to the other leaders around you, and your own people, and your own brain. You will come up with the right answers and I fucking guarantee not a single one will be "kick more people out and make it harder to come here"

I bet international tensions drop significantly if yall all start being fucking honest and realize that your people all want the same thing, and the people coming from other places want that too. And you'll stop listening to idiot dictators and cut them out of your groups until their country gets rid of them and replaces them with someone who thinks for themselves and listens to their people and their neighbors too.

Think for yourself

Listen to your people

Listen to your neighbors

Figure out who is acting like a dick and strip them of power until they are gone

This isn't hard. You're a leader. This is your job

near every fucking party in europe has moved to the right on immigration and are willing to sacrifice both undocumented people and documented/turned citizen immigrants to appease the far right hysteria. wake up, this is the issue of our lifetime, this is what we need to fight for, especially as climate change accelerates and makes much of the third world uninhabitable and as companies use undocumented labour as slavery. this is our hill to die on

8K notes · View notes

brokenmenswhore · 3 days ago

Note

PLEASE🙏🙏

dom james potter x sub reader, where she purposely flirts with one of his friends during one of his quidditch matches(shes in the stands) to get a rise out of him, and becuaseeee hes distracted, gryffindore loses SEVERLY against slytherin and now our man is livid....so..reader gets pretty severly punished, bit obviously with aloootttt of aftercareee

Ifff you dont wanna write this thats okay love!🫶🏻

*cracks knuckles* we are so back also idk if this was rough enough but (i get nervous because sometimes people ask for rough stuff and then i make it rough and they’re like this needs warnings it’s dark!! and im like im sorry im trying)

cost the match | james potter

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), james is pretty mean, rough sex, use of “sir” and light dom/sub play, i did not proofread this

────── ☾ ──────

You knew it was a dangerous game that you were playing, but you needed James, and you needed him bad.

It had been a while since he was rough with you, and you were deprived, to say the least. He had spent the last few weeks training for his Quidditch games, and you were attention starved.

As you watched your boyfriend whiz past the stands as he guided his broom toward the golden snitch, you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned over to Remus, one of James’s best friends.

“Hell of a match today,” you said.

Remus turned to you, almost to ensure that you were talking to him. “Yeah.”

“You’d look good in that red and yellow suit, if you played, you know.”

Remus blushed and continued to watch the match, refusing to acknowledge your flirtations. You looked up to James, who was still laser focused on the match.

You ran a hand over the collar of Remus’s button down shirt. He visibly shuddered, unsure how to react. You slowly moved your fingers under the collar, tracing his prominent collarbone.

“Y/N.”

“Remmy.”

Remus took a deep breath. “Why are you callin’ me pet names, huh?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Dunno.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw James fly by, and could have sworn that he stopped moving.

“You tryna make him jealous?” Remus asked.

“Maybe.”

Remus smiled. “Love, all you had to do was ask. Messing with James is my favorite passtime.”

You giggled at his admission. “You and me both,” you said, continuing to run your hands over his collarbone.

That’s when you checked in on James to see him halfway across the field, stagnant in midair, looking directly at you.

You quickly turned away, forcing yourself to refocus on Remus and really lay it on thick.

You leaned in closer to Remus, whispering “think it’s working already,” into his ear, earning a smile from Remus as he looked toward James.

“And the snitch is in play! Slytherin dives-“

The words over the speaker nearly escaped your attention as you continued to move yourself closer and closer to Remus, so close that your lips could brush together if he turned his head toward you.

You noticed Sirius fly over to James and visibly scold him for his lack of movement, but even after Sirius flew away, James’ focus was on you.

The score was heavily in favor of Slytherin, so much so that if James caught the snitch at that very moment, it would only narrowly be a win.

“And they’ve done it! Slytherin has caught the snitch!”

That was the only thing that diverted James’s attention from you as he looked around frantically, noticing that Gryffindor had not only lost, but lost severely.

You made your way down the stands and toward the locker room, hoping to check on James and the team. Before you could make yourself known, you overheard some chatter from the team.

“What the fuck happened man?”

“I’m sorry, okay?” That was James.

“We got fucking crushed out there, Prongs!”

“Bloody hell, you think I don’t know that? I fucked it up for us, I know!”

“What could have possibly been so distracting?” That was Sirius.

“Nothing, forget it.”

You could hear the venom in his tone. You were so in for it. Enough that you turned around and left, nervous to see him this soon after the match.

────── ☾ ──────

“Wake the fuck up.”

James’s voice scared you out of sleep. Despite him speaking quietly, his tone was so low and gruff that your body knew to obey, even without consciousness, and even though it was extremely late.

You blinked your eyes awake as you turned your body over to look at him. “Jamie, wha-“

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, harshly clamping a hand over your mouth. “You cost us the fucking match today, you know that? You fucking slut, you into Remus now, hm? What’s the matter, had a lot to say to him, but nothing to say to me?”

The hand over your mouth restricted you from speaking. He was intentionally taunting you. You tried to move out of his grasp, but you knew it was hopeless.

“Stay fucking put,” he groaned, “I’m gonna move my hand, and you’re gonna tell me what possible fucking reason you have for eye fucking my best friend and ruining the match.”

James took his hand away from your mouth, and you knew better than to move.

“I just- I, I just-

“I just, I just,” Remus mocked you, giving you a light slap to the cheek, “spit it out.”

You knew that lying was hopeless. “I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

A low groan came from the base of James’s throat. “You wanted to get a rise out of me, hm? Congratulations, darlin’, you got your fuckin’ way. You’re in a hell of a lot of trouble.”

James gripped your hips roughly and flipped your body effortlessly, your face slamming into the cushioning of the pillow. He pulled everything straight off of your hips, immediately exposing you.

He viciously shoved two fingers inside of your already wet cunt, causing you to gasp sharply at the sudden intrusion.

“Shut up,” he demanded, “don’t wanna wake the whole dorm now, do we?” He roughly slapped your ass as a punishment.

“That- that slap was probably louder than me.”

You were intentionally trying to work him up a little further, needing the angry and rough James that could so easily manhandle you like you weighed nothing.

“The fuck was that?” he said, roughly pumping his fingers in and out of you, his other hand finding the back of your head and holding it flush against the pillow, “think you’re clever, do you?”

“A little.”

His fist curled around your hair and yanked your head backward. “Shut the fuck up. Now.”

“But-“

James added a third finger into your core. “NOW.”

You had him right where you wanted him. You immediately stopped being mouthy, your body caving from the pleasure of James’s fingers inside of you. You whined from the intensity, but James quickly covered your mouth with his hand.

He continued to fuck you roughly with his fingers, moving faster and faster to push you closer and closer to the edge. You writhed under his grip, but he was insanely strong. You couldn’t go anywhere without him allowing it, and you didn’t want to leave anyway. This is exactly what you wanted.

James felt your walls flutter around his fingers as he hit your sweet spot. “Aweh, you wanna come?”

You nodded your head as best as you could beneath his grip.

James saw your nonverbal plea. “Too fucking bad.”

He pulled his fingers out of you entirely and released your mouth from his grasp, removing his touch from you completely.

You laid still for a moment, attempting to catch your breath as you heard the zipper of James’s jeans behind you.

“Turn around and open up.”

You rolled over to see James’s already hard cock against his toned stomach. James cast a quick silencing spell around your bed. Just because you had to be quiet didn’t mean he did.

You reached for his shaft, but James stopped you.

“Uh uh uh, you know how I like you. Don’t play dumb with me.”

You blinked up at him, never breaking eye contact as you adjusted yourself onto all fours, your ass perched up and on display for James as you held yourself up on your knees and palms.

“Now open up and take it like the fucking whore you are.”

You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, allowing James to shove his entire length into your mouth at once. You moaned around him, but he didn’t care. You were being punished, which meant James didn’t have to care about your comfort, only his own pleasure. You loved it when James was rough with you and treated you like his own little plaything. You knew this was what was coming the moment you spoke to Remus.

James fisted your hair again behind your head, holding you in place as he thrust his hips back and forth, barely giving you any time to adjust to his size.

After a few moments, he removed his hand from your head. “Why the fuck am I doing all the work?” he scolded.

You immediately took over, bobbing your head in a steady pace and using one hand to pleasure the portion of his cock that you couldn’t take in your mouth.

But, the moment your hand touched him, James grabbed your wrist and yanked it away from his cock. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You pulled off of him with a pop. “I was just- I’m trying, I just-“

“Take me in your mouth like I fucking told you.”

You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter from his harsh words. You braced yourself on the edge of the mattress, slowly moving your head down his length until your nose hit his lower stomach.

“Fuck, I can feel myself in your throat,” he moaned.

You slowly moved back and forth, only a small bit at first, allowing yourself to adjust to the feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat. Once you had controlled your gag reflex, you began to move faster.

James threw his head back, his resolve weakening as he whimpered into the night air.

“That’s it,” he moaned, “make it up to me. Show me how sorry you are.”

That egged you on even further, causing you to swirl your tongue around James’s tip each time you pulled back.

“Fuck, get up before I come. I’m not done with you,” James said.

You pulled back and sat back on your knees, waiting for James to move you or instruct you further.

He stepped forward until his legs hit the edge of the bed. He leaned over you, grabbing your jaw as he whispered, “this what you wanted? Hm? You want me to fucking punish you?”

“Please, Jamie,” you begged.

He ran a hand down your body to reach your clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. “Please who?”

You forgot what James liked to be called. “Please sir.”

“Good,” he said, “too bad you were such a bad girl today that it doesn’t fucking matter.”

“I’m sorry Jamie- sir- please, I won’t do it again-“

“You won’t, huh? And I’m just supposed to believe you?” James said, grabbing your shoulders and slowly turning you around until you were on your knees facing the wall. He pressed on your back, and you fell forward, your ass perched upward.

James gave his cock a few soft strokes before, without warning, sliding his entire length into you.

You whined, and James continued to taunt you. “Didn’t I ask you a question?”

He began to snap his hips forward, angling his cock as deep into you as he possibly could, his thrusts still restrained.

“I won’t do it again, I promise- just needed you- needed you bad,” you whined.

“So you acted like a filthy fucking slut with Remus? You cost us the fucking match?” James said, his anger creeping back up as his thrusts grew rougher, his hands gripping your hips so harshly that it was sure to leave a mark.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you pleaded in tandem with his thrusts.

James gripped your hair and yanked your head back, snapping his hips harder and harder as he used his cock to punish you.

“So fucking desperate,” James scolded.

“Fuck, I can’t- I’m gonna-“

“Don’t you dare come,” James warned.

“But-“

James slapped your ass hard. “You talkin’ back to me?”

“No- no- I-“

Slap.

“Don’t fucking come,” he warned again.

Slap.

Feeling you squeeze him, James intentionally fucked into you harder, trying to bring you to the edge just to restrict you from reaching over it.

“Jamie, please, please-“

Slap.

“Shut the fuck up.”

James took the hand wrapped in your hair and covered your mouth, pulling your back flush against his chest. Your head tilted backward and rested on his shoulder as he kept you quiet, bouncing your hips up and down on himself.

“You think you deserve to come?” he said, voice strained in pleasure.

You tried to nod your head yes, but it was nearly impossible to move. James grunted in your ear as he approached his own high.

“You don’t come until I do, okay?” he said.

You moaned underneath his hand to vocalize that you understood as James used you to get himself off, moving your hips up and down like you were a human fleshlight.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he said, beginning to snap his hips as fast as he possibly could.

“Take it, good girl, gonna split you fuckin’ open,” James moaned into your ear.

James came with a few more harsh thrusts, the feeling of his seed hitting deep within your cervix. He moved slower and slower as he came down from his high, still thrusting to keep up the sex.

“Jamie, please,” you cried, tears streaming down your face as his thrusts became slow and torturous, “please, sir, I need to come, please.”

“Come on my cock, that’s it, atta girl,” James said. You immediately came the moment you were given permission. Your walls fluttered violently around James’s cock as he held you in place against him.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie, it won’t happen again, just needed you,” you said, barely audibly as you were breathing heavy and exhausted.

James pulled you off of his cock and laid you down on the bed. “I know, angel,” he said, his voice now soft and comforting.

“I just- I just-“

“Sh, baby relax,” James said, reaching into your nightstand for one of your aftercare cloths. With a quiet “aguamenti,” James wet the cloth and gently spread your thighs apart, slowly beginning to clean up the stickiness between your legs.

Your legs shook violently as he ran the cloth between your folds, unintentionally overstimulating you.

“Sh, baby, take it easy, I got you,” he comforted.

He found a clean pair of underwear for you, slipping them up your legs until your modesty was covered. He joined you in laying down, shimmying under the sheets and pulling them upward for you to do the same.

“C’mere,” James said, stretching out an arm and prompting you to cuddle into him.

You rested your head on his chest, and he rubbed soothing circles onto your back.

“Are you mad?” you asked, your voice tired and small.

“No, baby, not anymore,” he said, “wish we won that match, though.”

“I didn’t mean to make you lose the match,” you said.

“I know, I know,” he said, moving his hand to stroke your hair, “it’s okay.”

“I love you, Jamie.”

“I love you too, baby. Go back to sleep.”

#asks #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter smut #marauders x reader #marauders smut #james potter fanfic #james potter imagines #james potter x y/n

236 notes · View notes

mintmatcha · 2 days ago

Text

"Kenma."

The game buzzes on, the battle music intensifying. The thing his character is facing has changed, taking on its second form as Kenma's character rolls and swings its sword. The man himself is curled into his knees, chest tucked forward in anticipation, like he's about to hop out of his chair.

"Ke-"

"In a second," he cuts you off. His unblinking eyes never leave the screen, peering through his blonde bangs. "I just have to beat this boss."

With a huff, you sink back into your chair.

"Last time you said 'just a second' it took you two days to beat the damn thing," you remind him. "I'm not immortal-- I don't have time to sit around for you."

Frankly, you often forget Kenma is immortal until moments like that. You had always thought that vampires would be menacing or carry some sort of grandeur, but everyone you've met has been so spectacularly normal. Kenma, for instance, seems like every other guy your age: aloof and obsessed with video games.

"Get bitten then," he shrugs. "Kuroo would be happy to."

Your spine trills at the thought of it. When you first met Kuroo, you thought her was odd in the most normal way possible. He was practically nocturnal because he claimed to work remotely overseas, but he still went to bars and played indoor volleyball: average activities for an average man-

Or, that's what you thought, until you learned about the whole vampire thing.

Honestly, it's only made you more attracted to him. The mystery, the danger-- what's not to love? You'd be lying if you said you had never thought of his teeth on you, his hands on your body-

"That's what I wanted to talk about."

Kenma's head whips around. This game doesn't pause; the monster smacks his avatar across the screen.

"You're turning?" His voice is either bright with surprise or shock. You've known Kenma for a while now and you still can't seem to read his motivations. You're not sure why Kuroo incorporated you into the fold of his undead friend group, but here you are, sitting in their living room.

"No, uh-" What you're about to ask suddenly feels silly. "I wanted to... Can I see your teeth?"

Kenma's expression settles and he picks up the controller that you hadn't realized he dropped.

"I died for that?" He flicks the game off. "You could have waited for that. I'll still have teeth in a week."

You have to bit your tongue to stop yourself from losing your mind. Kenma just goes back to gaming, eyes narrowing with effort.

"I could be dead in a week."

"You won't be."

"I could be," you say. "I could have a stroke at any moment."

"You won't." He mashes the buttons extra hard, so hard the plastic creaks. "And if you did, we'd know before you did."

The character dies much earlier than it usually does.

"How would you know if I had a stroke before I did?"

"It smells sour when..." His eyes finally turn your way again. "Whatever. It's fine."

"Fine to touch?" you say.

He beckons you over with a nod of his chin. "Yeah."

Pushing off from your seat, you walk over to where he's sitting. Kenma doesn't bother to stand. He tilts his head back, looking up at you with a slight smile.

Already, you can see them. The sharp, vivid white teeth behind his pale lips. They have the usual shape, but anything uncanny edge makes your skin crawl. It's something you can't quite place, maybe something not there at all.

To get closer, you slide a leg onto his chair, angling yourself over him the best that you can. You're surprised when his hand rests on your thigh for support.

"Don't look so scared," Kenma says, a bit too coy for your liking.

You hadn't realized you'd been making a face at all.

"Just don't bite me."

Kenma opens his mouth and his teeth catch the dim light, strange for how dry his mouth seems to be. His canines are slightly elongated, just a hair more than a usual human. Gingerly, you run your fingers across the front of his teeth, then down to their edges. There's almost a razors edge to them, enough that you can feel the ridges of your fingerprint catching.

"Sharp," you quip. You leave a pause for Kenma to respond, but then you realize he can't, not with his mouth open for you. He just watches you, eyes flickering from one of your eyes to the other.

This isn't intimate, you remind yourself. It's scientific curiosity.

It can't be intimate, because you like Kuroo. Not Kenma. No, you don't like it at all that his hands are around your waist and you're cupping his cheek with your free hand, that his breath somehow smells soothing-

His canines seem longer now. More jagged, sharp. You press the pad of your thumb against it and watch how your skin easily skins in, no resistenxe whatsoever. Then, you pull away. A drop of blood wells up at the spot; there's no pain whatsoever, but the thumb tingles, like menthol and cocaine, riveting and calming all at once.

Kenma leans into the palm of your hand, then cranes his neck ever so slightly to envelop your finger in his lips. It's the most delicate of touches, a ghost of a memory of a kiss, but when he pulls away, crimson has settled into the cracks of his lips.

"Your heart's beating-" his tongue runs over his lower lip. "Really fast."

Kenma pulls you closer, arms now tight around your waist. You don't know when you got so close, when your bodies suddenly were pushed together, but now they are--

and now your finger is in his mouth. The gentle, crushing pressure of suction surprises you, but not more than the desperate whine he makes when blood hits his tongue.

That buzzing had spread up your arm and you can suddenly feel it, feel how your heart runs heavy and fast for him. Kenma's eyes are so lidded, barely open, heavy with want, that you can barely make out how his pupils have narrowed into cat scratch slits.

"Oh," you babble. "Oh, it's--"

"Feels good?" Kenma isn't speaking, but you can hear his voice.

"Y-yeah."

"I can make you feel good." There can't be that much blood from that tiny spot, but Kenma swallows deep as if there is. "Anytime you want."

The plush of his tongue swipes up your digit. Oh, maybe you are bleeding out. Maybe he's killing you. You're hot and cold and weak and strong and, and, and--

"You never have to ask Kuroo for-"

The front door of the apartment slams closed. A familiar set of boisterous laughter echoes through the halls-- Bokuto and Kuroo are hone. When you pull away, Kenma gives no resistance, his eyes still fixated on you.

An unjust guilt rises in your throat. You examine your hand, expecting a torrent of blood, only to be greeted with the smallest blossom on your finger tip.

"Were we supposed to do that?" you whisper.

"It's fine." Kenma adjusts himself in his chair, pulling at his pant legs. "They'll scold me, not you."

That doesn't make you feel better.

"Thanks," you say, awkwardly heading for the door. "For the-- thanks."

"Hey," he's using his real voice this time. You pause, turning back to him to catch his wide, Cheshire grin. "Thanks for the snack."

453 notes · View notes

theunvanquishedzims · 3 days ago

Text

Locate laundry [Failure point--realize how much laundry there is, become overwhelmed]

Add to laundry pile [Failure point--may discover distracting objects or more urgent tasks]

Sort laundry pile by type [Failure point--thinking about schedule/upcoming events to determine priority items may distract and overwhelm]

Move laundry piles to washer

Manually prepare laundry (empty pockets, close zippers, un-ball socks, put delicate items in mesh bags)

Load washer [Delay point--if too much to fit in one load, repeat from step 3]

Administer soap

Select setting

Turn on washer

Don't forget laundry in washer

Don't forget laundry in washer [Delay point--forget laundry in washer]

Remember laundry in washer [Delay point--if too much time has passed, repeat from step 7 or 9 as appropriate]

Move laundry to dryer [Delay point--already laundry in dryer. Skip to step 17.]

Clean lint trap [Delay point--you want to get some canned air and a pipe cleaner to get in the cracks. You want to take the whole thing apart and vacuum. Recall that there are videos of industrial cleaners snaking dryer vents, entire hotel floors of ductwork filled with dust and grime, cubic feet of lint compacted into a fire hazard. Is that why your hotel sheets always smell faintly mildewy? How often do hotels have their vents cleaned? If you were a manager you would schedule it for every month. No, you'd have your own dryer cleaning business, and get paid to remove the lint. You'd sort through it for treasures. Someone's car keys are probably in there. Nobody remembers to clean out their pockets. You always remember to clean out your pockets. You're doing laundry. You've been standing in front of the dryer with a handful of lint in a fugue state for who knows how long. You could snap out of it, finish your chores, or you could drift a little longer, lost in ductwork and empty buildings and the cracks behind where the behind-the-scenes people run things, at one with the machines and the rats and the lint.]

Throw lint away

Start dryer

Locate laundry basket [Failure point--the laundry is already drying. Nothing bad will happen if you leave it now. Failure point--the laundry basket is full of old laundry that needs folding. Failure point--the laundry basket is full of dirty laundry and now you have to go back to step 2 because you failed step 1. Failure point--you are a failure and it would be too much work to fix it, you would need to get the iron out to de-wrinkle these clothes, or throw them in the dryer with a wet towel, but that wouldn't count towards the Loads of Laundry Done Today Achievement (Reward-bragging rights disguised as complaining), you'd just have double folding afterwards. Failure point--there are distracting objects in the laundry basket. Failure point--the laundry basket is a little bit broken because you got it at the dollar store because the nice ones you grew up with are upwards of 30 dollars each or come in 6-packs and you did not have the space or money for that when you were in college buying your laundry stuff, so now you just have tiny busted ones that are always a little bit broken because you say you'll tape them up but you never do, because that would require remembering they exist outside of this specific step in the laundry process. Failure point--you have already wandered away in a haze of self-recrimination and boredom.]

Bring laundry basket to the dryer. [Failure point--bring basket to the duct tape, either destroy basket while fixing it or fix it and feel accomplished. Task completed, endorphins achieved, laundry forgotten.]

Empty dryer into laundry basket

Find place to put laundry basket down [Failure point--your house is too messy to have another basket laying around. Set it down and flee the mess.]

Sort laundry for folding [Delay point--do you need hangers]

Fold laundry [Delay point--you need music for this chore. Return to reality after an unknowable amount of time in music-choosing fugue state.]

Fold towels and sheets [Delay point--pretend you are filming a how-to video because Kids These Days apparently didn't learn how to fold fitted sheets. It's not that hard people, watch me]

Hang up nice clothes [Delay point--you need more hangers. There is nowhere to hang the clothes once you put them on hangers before you carry them to the closet. Multiple trips required.]

Sock sorting extravaganza

Underwear sorting extravaganza

File laundry in drawers, closet, or shelves

Return to step 4 as needed [Failure point--you have already done laundry today. Task complete, endorphins achieved, remaining laundry disregarded.]

Clean home checklist:

"Do the laundry" as if doing laundry doesn't have 27 individual steps that each require other tasks to get done. Each task runs the risk of starting additional secret tasks.

"Organize kitchen" my brain has malware and it's overheating. CPU at 100%. There are no executives at my function

#27. Checks out.#laundry #it me #this is how my brain works #I currently have 4 laundry piles in my house #and laundry in the washer and dryer

3K notes · View notes