#(look how much they love each other they are so precious)

[readwritealldayallnight]

I would love a take on boyfriend Ghost coming home to surprise you, but he finds your bed empty and doesn't realize that you are in his room in his bed. Thanks.

The placebo effect, was what he kept trying to convince you it had to be, no matter how many times you rolled your eyes and told him he was wrong

How else could one explain your insistence that Simon’s bed smelled so much like him, becoming your safe space when he was away on long deployments, when he only ever slept with you in your bed most nights to begin with

Hard to believe it was nearly three years ago now that you’d told your friend since childhood, Johnny, about how your search for a new flat was going miserably. You remember how he’d perked up and recounted with a mischievous glint in his eye about how his Lieutenant was apparently searching for a flat mate at the moment, someone who’d be looking after the place while he was away for work

Unsure about living with a strange man you’d never met before, but trusting Johnny’s judgement (though the way he seemed just a bit too eager about this meeting did kind of throw you off-) you had reluctantly agreed to meet with him and at least give the flat a glance before you simply turned him down

It wasn’t until you were knocking at the door of the address Johnny had written down for you, that you’d realized he’d never even given you the man’s goddamn name, only ever referring to him at Lieutenant or LT

Johnny apparently also failed to mention the absolute SIZE of the guy, his huge frame blocking nearly all of the light from behind him as he had swung the door open and stood in the doorway before you

In a slight panic, thrown off by the massive man before you and the way the butterflies in your stomach suddenly began to flutter at the sight of him, you had greeted him for the first time with a squeaky, unsure voice saying ‘Um, hi, are you the Mr Lieutenant?’ (something he has never let you live down since)

He knew then and there that you would be the one

Not just his flatmate (though what a generous flatmate he was when he offered insisted on moving all your boxes out of your old place and into his that very same day), but the one, something he reluctantly had to give Soap credit for, seeing as he was the one who wouldn’t stop talking his ear off about you

You would be his other half, his better half

And all these years later, the two bedroom flat truly only acted as a one bedroom, considering that from the start Simon was always falling into your bed with you at the end of each night, limbs tangled together under the warmth of a lovers embrace a thousand times more comforting than an actual comforter

Still though, that first time Simon had to be gone for work longer than a few weeks, you found the lingering odor of him clinging to his bedsheets to be one of the few things keeping you sane in his absence, taking to sleeping in his room for the time being, imagining that the pillow you cling to your front was a strong muscular arm instead, littered in scars and tattoos you feel confident you could recognize from touch alone

And when his long awaited flight back home to you landed a few hours earlier than expected, tires touching down in the dark, stillness of late night hour, he decided he’d surprise you and come straight home, rather than calling you to meet him at the base like you’d insisted, not wanting to wake you

Barely able to contain himself, he decided the elevator ride up to the seventh floor would take too long, take away precious seconds that brought him closer to you, and so up the flight of stairs he went, taking them two or three at a time, rushing to see the face etched behind his eyelids every time he closed his eyes, to hear the voice that haunted his dreams each night

Quietly as a man his size could, he crept into the flat, snuck his way into your room, expecting to see your sweet, sleeping form cuddled up amongst the blankets and pillows. But his heart dropped when he noticed the bed was still perfectly made, not a thread out of place.

Trying to remain calm, though his mind was instantly swarming with every possible scenario that could have taken place, he knew he saw your shoes and jacket by the door, you couldn’t have gone far… but where were you?

He glanced into the living room, wondering if he missed you sleeping on the couch after a long day, he poked his head into the bathroom, even went so far as to check the small balcony, but finally there was only one door left to open.

And there you were, safe and sound, a tiny ball curled up into the center of his huge bed, clinging to one of his old masks and holding it close to your chest as though it were a security blanket (you’d been sleeping in his bed so much you needed something that still smelled strongly of him, you were getting desperate)

Stripping himself down to only his boxers, he tiptoed towards the side of the bed, his mind finally feeling more at peace than he ever had, gently pulling the sheets back just enough for him to slip in behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you into his muscular chest

Though it should be alarming to suddenly feel a pair of hands roaming over your skin, a body holding you firmly against their own, it’s as though your body knows who it is before your mind does

Any tension you were still holding onto during his absence instantly melts away, your own hands coming to land over top of his, giving a slight squeeze of acknowledgment, not yet willing to fully leave your half asleep state, but needing to touch him, to confirm he really is here

“Hmm,” You hum, voice groggy with sleep and a smile slowly stretching across your lips, snuggling further into his embrace. “You’re home.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in, wishing he could bottle up the scent of your shampoo and lotions and perfumes, if only to have something to hold onto while he’s away, understanding now why he found you in this bed rather than your own

“I am.” He whispers into your hair, sensing that you’re already drifting back into dream land, safe in his arms and his bed, knowing he’ll be there when you wake. He feels his chest tighten when he knows that you weren’t talking about the fact that he’s physically home, in the flat, but something more, something much more, because he means the same thing when he tells you, “You’re my home too, love.”

[charliemwrites]

Still thinking about yesterday’s post and the dynamic that fucking snatched up my brain worms in a vice grip.

Reader who is perfectly capable, has a well earned spot on her team. Who has safety net after safety net provided by the mere presence of the rest of 141. So much so that she doesn’t even remember what fear is. Living in that invincible bubble of “we’re the best because we look out for each other and we’re not going to let anything happen to each other”

And the day that bubble pops and you don’t even realize it yet. A chance encounter with a KorTac operative and you stole his kill right out from under him. Made eye contact in a shower of blood, maybe even threw him a cheeky grin, high on stims as you were.

You didn’t realize that you’d stepped outside the metaphorical bounds of your little safe zone, stepped right into the territory of a feral, untamed creature with sharp teeth and the scent of you cloying in his nose. A scent that made his blood sing a siren song of want.

It’s not just happenstance that you cross paths again. (Not that you know that). Hes been seeking you out, taking mission after mission in a dogged attempt to see you again. To see if it was more than a fluke.

And his impatience, his persistence, is rewarded with the silhouette of you, breaking a man’s neck with your thighs. (If the man weren’t surely dead, he’d wish he was for the crime of having your attention, of being smothered by your thighs, of being that close to your cunt.)

In your precious stealth gear, sleek and deadly, eyes sharp on the path ahead, not the shadow gathering behind you. He just watches you for a long while, soaking you up like a dry earth in a squall, letting you take root deep, deep within his being, in the place a soul should be. (You’re better than.)

He’s got your callsign now, whispered by one of your team members as their path intersects with yours. Narrowed eyes at the (too) friendly shake given to the hard mask covering your mouth and nose, the way your cheeks rounded with a grin beneath.

What was an interest has evolved instantaneously into an obsession. (Or devotion. Or love. They’re all the same to him, all the same kind of possession.)

He loves watching you fight as much as he loves watching you kill. He’s hard in his tac pants experiencing it this close, getting to feel each unforgiving strike in all the openings he leaves for you - invitations you always accept because you’re his good girl and you can’t resist, of course not.

He purrs when he gets you pinned to the wall, your eyes big, sparking with that animal knowledge that you’ve been bested by a bigger predator. That you’ve been won, claimed. To the victors go the spoils, and the only thing he’s lost is his restraint.

You’re panting and squirming beneath him, and he’s hypnotized, unable to do more than press closer, press harder to get you wriggling against him. Moaning softly when your heel digs a bruise into his calf, how you go still with a sort of realization.

“Again,” he rasps into your ear, “go on, pretty little hunter. Keep going. You’re so strong.”

But before you can, something over his shoulder steals your attention. Your eyes flick away from, where they should be. And he realizes that he been so consumed by you, intoxicated, that he missed the intrusion on your moment together.

In the aftermath, his gear smells like you. The place where he slipped his thigh between yours and pressed he swears smells like your cunt, heady perfume. He’s breathes it in as he fucks his tight fist, high on the memory of your strength testing itself against his.

He imagines the scent of him all over you in return. Going back to those men with his claim in your armor, wishes you’d taken the blade with you, his blood smearing your gloves, your shirt, your pants, staining your skin.

He cums to that thought, thick spurts all over a grainy print out of you from the op he first met you on, milky drops on the ink that forms your mask.

Soon, it’ll be reality.

[loonylupinblack3]

Wife?

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar accidently slips up in an interview and calls you something you're not.... yet

Warnings: none :)

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: how is this man my favourite driver and i haven't written about him yet?

You were in the Mclaren garage, earmuffs firmly in place as your eyes followed the bright orange car on track. The remnants of the crash between Sainz and Perez could still be seen, your heart giving a nervous squeeze whenever your gaze slid to it. 

You could feel cameras watching you, people’s eyes darting to you every now and then, wanting to see your reaction whenever something happened involving Oscar. For the most part you composed yourself well when watching your boyfriend race, keeping your panic, fear, and nausea to yourself. You were well practised in the art of keeping a steady facade, what with being an actress and having people stare at you wherever you went.

Still, you couldn’t help the little gasps that escaped you each time they passed turn 20 and Charles got dangerously close in the space between turn 20 and turn 1. Each time Charles got closer and closer to overtaking Oscar, and each time you were watching with bated breath wondering if this was the time he’d finally take your boyfriend’s position.

Yet he never did, and you watched with an overwhelming joy as Oscar finished the Azerbaijan Grand Prix first, the black and white chequered flag telling the world of your boyfriend's achievement. You laughed, clapping your hands, beaming at the screen in front of you. Cheers rose up from the people around you, guests and workers alike celebrating the success of the team.

You hurried out of the garage, walking the now familiar path to the crowd waiting underneath the podium, where you’d stay to watch Oscar retrieve his trophy. You’d known his last win hadn’t been perfect, and your celebrations together had been dampened slightly. Today though, you knew you’d be celebrating. You could already see your boyfriend’s telltale smile as he walked onto the first place podium, a restrained smile that looked polite to anyone else but to you confessed his excitement and pride.

You cheered with everyone else as he received his trophy, throwing his arm in the air triumphantly as his gaze searched the crowd. When he found you his smile widened just a tad. Still polite as ever but softer. His eyes were also telling you everything the distance between you wouldn’t allow. That he loved you. That he was so happy. That he felt like he meant something, which of course he did.

The next few hours were very busy for your boyfriend. He was the man of the hour, the person everyone wanted to talk to and congratulate. You’d had a passing kiss and hug, murmuring how proud you were of him before he was whisked away again, but you didn’t mind. You let these people have their precious few hours with him because after that he was all yours.

Oscar, on the other hand, wasn’t happy with it. He’d just made an incredible achievement in his life, something he’d been working for since he was a kid, and he wanted to celebrate with you, not reporters and interviewers.

So when he spotted you walking with Alex, Charles’ girlfriend, he took his chance, grabbing your hand and dragging you over with him. You gave him a confused smile. “What’re you doing?”

He shrugged. “Wanted to be with you. If I have to do this I want you to do it with me too.”

The reporter in front of him cooed, as did the surrounding people listening in. You gave him a smile, not minding one bit. Your boyfriend had such a soft, loving side the media didn’t get to see much, so you were glad they were finally discovering what a sweetheart Oscar was.

And that’s how you found yourself attending race briefings and interviews with your boyfriend. You had to admit, it was a little boring, and sometimes you couldn’t keep up with the conversation, your limited Formula One knowledge failing you during speedy discussions on cars and strategies. Still, you could see how happier Oscar was with you there, his hand resting comfortably on your waist, which was why you pasted on a smile and endured it.

It was nearing the end of the briefings, freedom so close you could almost taste it, as Oscar finished up with the last couple of interviews. You were both ready to leave, the sky having turned dark long ago, and tiredness made way to a faulty filter in Oscar’s case.

“And you’ve got your girlfriend here,” the interviewer said, a young girl around your age, 23 or 24. “I bet she’s proud of you.”

Oscar turned to look at you, raising his eyebrows in question and you let a giddy smile cross your face. “‘Course I am. Couldn’t be prouder.”

Oscar, preening at your compliments, snuck a quick kiss on your cheek, much to the entertainment of the interviewer, talking of how wonderful you seemed together.

“Yeah, she’s amazing,” Oscar agreed. One thing you knew he loved nearly as much as racing was talking about you. “I’m incredibly lucky to her have her as my wife- uh, I mean-”

Your eyes went wide, as did the interviewer’s, her mouth dropping slightly. “Wife? Did we miss something?”

“Did I miss something?” you murmured to him, though you were not at all upset. Quite the contrary, actually, fighting the large smile threatening to spread across your face.

“No, no, I didn’t mean—uh, she’s not, not yet—uh, let’s move on—” Oscar was stumbling over his words, a rare sight, and you were biting your lip hard because you felt grinning like a maniac would not help him at the moment.

But he was going to receive many words later.

You received applause as you entered the stage, waving your hand at the audience as you sat down in the lush armchair, facing Jimmy Fallon behind his desk. You always loved going on his show, good friends with Jimmy on screen and off.

He gave you a warm welcome, speaking of your new movie that released a couple months ago and the launching of your new perfume, which you were quite excited about and more than happy to talk with Jimmy about. 

“And, I’m sorry, I just have to bring this up,” Jimmy started, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We all saw Oscar accidentally call you his wife on live TV after that big win. Did he get a talking-to for that slip-up?”

The audience laughed and you with them, remembering Oscar’s flushed face when you got back to the hotel room, his rambled explanation and apology. You also remembered what had followed, which is what spurred you to give a sly smile to Jimmy – “There was definitely some talking” – and take out your left hand you’d been sitting on and flash it to the audience.

More specifically, the jewel sitting on your ring finger.

The crowd gasped and applauded, the noise in the room reaching the limit, as Jimmy covered his mouth in shock before clapping along, congratulating you. You were full on grinning now, drinking in everyone’s happiness that only elevated your own.

“So next time Oscar refers to you as his wife it won’t be a slip-up, huh?” Jimmy asked brightly.

You grinned, nodding. “Next time he calls me his wife it’ll be because I am.”

[jaehaeryshater]

The King Come Over and his bride Ygritte Firekissed

art by : @shripscapi

Look at my King dawg we’re definitely getting through the Wall!!!

For the last month and a half, I have been working closely with Liesl to design concepts for Jon as King Beyond the Wall and Ygritte as his Queen. Personally, I’m not invested at all in Jon becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms despite him being my favorite character. He’s not very connected with the South and I don’t feel that it’s his birth right or anything, even being the son of Rhaegar. I am significantly more interested in him becoming King in the North, but my interest in Freefolk culture has led me to be far more invested in the idea of him rejecting Southron society as a whole and becoming King Beyond the Wall (this isn’t necessarily mutually exclusive to being King in the North later on).

The motivation for Jon becoming King as opposed to Mance stems from a theory that has been around since AGOT has come out: that the Others will only treat with/negotiate with a Stark. In the prologue of AGOT, when the Others are speaking among themselves before killing the Watchmen, what if they were confirming with each other that Waymar Royce was not a Stark and that they could go ahead and kill him? All in all, it doesn’t really matter if this is true, but rather that this is a plausible rumor that could easily have been passed down among the Freefolk which could lead Mance to conclude that Jon as a leader would give the Freefolk the best chance of survival. It’s not very hard, at least in my opinion, to imagine an AU like this, since survival is the most important thing to the Freefolk during the events of ASOIAF. But is it plausible that under these circumstances that Jon would abandon his Night’s Watch vows? I think so if he can be led to believe that only Stark blood could defeat the Others, but that is not the only factor. Jon Snow is insecure about his bastard status, plain and simple. He’s always lived in the shadow of his Robb, though he loved him. He’s wanted Winterfell, though he didn’t want to nor had any intention to take it from Robb. But he’s known since he was a small boy that he could never Winterfell and that would never inherit anything because he was a bastard. Jon also has thoughts, at least in passing, that Ned loved Robb more than him. He perceives Ned as having been more proud of Robb, of looking at him differently than himself. He’s seemingly always believed this, but there is a sort of confirmation of Jon’s feelings when Ned allows him to join the Night’s Watch without much preparation on what the Watch is actually like. Fully me making assumptions here, not something Jon has explicitly thought, but it’s unlikely that Ned would have sent Bran off at 14 to the Watch without much warning of what it was like, had Bran not become paralyzed. While we never get this exact thought process from Jon, in my opinion it fits into his psychology and insecurity. All this to say, if Jon is offered to be a figurehead, King, a title equal to his brother, but without taking anything away from the Starks or from Robb, that would almost certainly scratch that itch in him. It would be of his own merit, and there would be people behind him that don’t care that he’s a bastard, don’t see him as less than, and are willing to accept him for who he is. Not to mention that it also lets him feel like a hero and as if he is saving something far more precious than himself. And it probably doesn’t hurt that he would be able to remain with Ygritte as well.

We know from the descriptions of Mance and Dalla, as well as from being told directly by the former, that the King and his wife dress like all the other Freefolk, in thick furs. While the Jon and Ygritte arts from above are not particularly ostentatious by Southron standards, they are in obvious contrast to how Mance and Dalla are dressed. My idea was that Jon, having lived South of the Wall in a Lord’s keep all of his life, brought his own ideas to the Freefolk and added a distinction between a King and all other men. Nothing like in King’s Landing, all changes are inspired by his experience at Winterfell. I tried to think of what was achievable by the Freefolk, that would be difficult enough that it can’t be easily replicated for everyone else, but also keeping in mind of what could be done relatively quickly seeing as the Freefolk are focused on migrating South and saving themselves from the Others. The cultures I took inspiration for the clothing from are the Byzantines, Russians, Incans, Aztecs, and Mongolians. I wanted more “open” and flowy clothing, as opposed to more closed off and excessively modest clothing of 1300-1500s Europe that most of Westeros is based off of. Ygritte is still wearing furs, but they are dyed and there is weirwood embroidery in symbolism of the Old Gods and flame embroidery to symbolize her being kissed by fire. Her jewelry are simply clay beads that have been powdered blue. I didn’t want to give her any jewels as I felt it would be too difficult for the Freefolk to cut them directly and just overall would be against the spirit of the Freefolk. However, getting the blue on the clay like that still would be expensive and take a lot of time. I tried to keep the main color scheme surrounding gray as obviously that’s House Stark’s color. Jon’s clothes are similarly nice, with my main concern being him looking intimidating. I want the furs around his shoulders to be black because I wanted to call back to his time in the Night’s Watch without him keeping his psychical cloak, because I’m sure the Freefolk would not want him to do that. The furs are massive and make his shoulders look far larger, in an effort to make him look more intimidating, especially on a battlefield or in negotiations. He also has weirwood embroidery and his sigil is on the front of his outfit (my original idea was for him to have a flag with his heraldry on it, in which case the sigil would have looked far different, with a full length direwolf). There’s a white wolf on one side and either a crow or eagle on the other side (up for interpretation, both are relevant to Jon and one is one of the animals that can be used a symbol of the Freefolk) and the flame in the middle to represent Ygritte. The sigil is more than about Jon, after all, as it’s for the entirety of House Whitewolf, the House he founds. I thought the name fit far more in to Freefolk culture than something like Whitestark or something along those lines. Ygritte was supposed to have sewn on the sigil herself, and was very adamant about it, and that is meant to be why the thread is uneven and more visible than it ought to be. She’s not very good at the craft!

As I indicated before, crowns are not something common to Freefolk. That would be something else Jon would implement. Ygritte’s crown is very much like a hat, very casual. The beads are nice but obtaining them wouldn’t be unheard of, and holly most likely would not be particularly hard to come by. The reason I gave her a crown with holly is that during Christmas in the Tudor period and even before during pagan celebrations, people would go out into the woods and find holly and ivy to decorate their houses with. Holly was a symbol of masculine energy and ivy feminine energy. If you found more holly, it was meant to indicate that the man would rule the household for the year, and if you found more ivy then the woman would rule the household in the coming year (this was a way to “tell the future” not a rule lol). I liked the holly better for Ygritte so I’m just saying the Freefolk had the opposite belief. Jon’s crown is made of weirwood, which was important to me as I feel like his connection the Old Gods is also important as it is something that him and Freefolk both use to guide them. It ties them together. That being said, a weirwood crown is often used for Bran so I did not want to use a design that was too similar to the one used for him. Bran’s weirwood crown usually is made of weirwood branches, however, and not weirwood bark or logs, so I feel like it’s different enough. The frozen weirwood sap, as far as I know, is also unique to this design. There’s also some ivy to parallel with Ygritte’s holly.

The remaining bits and bobs I wanted to explain are the blue rose and then the face paint. The blue rose is obviously something associated with Lyanna Stark, who is widely accepted to be the mother of Jon Snow. I originally wanted to give him a rose somewhere, whether he was holding it or it was in his embroidery, but I forgot to ask during sketching, and then it was too late. But Ygritte holding the blue rose isn’t just about Lyanna. It’s also about Bael the Bard, a most likely fictitious person (or at least, the tale is fictitious, though I personally choose to believe it’s real) that went South of the Wall posing as a bard. He impressed the Lord of Winterfell so much that he granted Bael anything he wished; all Bael asked for was the most beautiful flower in Winterfell. This was granted for him, but the next morning he had stolen the Lord of Winterfell’s only child, a girl, and had left the flower in her bed in her place. He hid in the crypt with her for a year and they had a son together. Bael eventually went back North of the Wall and eventually Winterfell, having no other heir, passed to Bael’s child. Under this story, Jon is descended from Ygritte’s idol (maybe idol is stretching it, but she really likes him), Bael the Bard. Not only him, but all the Freefolk including Ygritte, according to her story. Following the story’s premise, Jon also poses as Bael and Ygritte as Winterfell’s daughter, with Jon joining her home under false pretenses and “stealing her”, as she calls it. So the blue rose has significance regarding both the Starks and the Freefolk. The face paint is inspired by tattooing done by cultures indigenous to North America. Indigenous Americans are not the only groups to use facial tattooing, the Vikings were famous for it as well, but Viking facial tattooing had more patterns based on shapes rather than lines and dots. I didn’t like the shapes so much, but the chin tattoo was one was that observed in all sorts of different cultures. Usually the chin tattoos with the line were on women in indigenous America, but I found some on men in other outside cultures. The dots I didn’t see outside of Native American culture and the claw marks on Jon’s cheeks I found mainly among Vikings. Because these all are an amalgamation of different cultures, we did them as face paint instead of tattoos because it seemed disrespectful otherwise. Not enough research went into it to be a proper representation of any one culture so paint was a better bet than a permanent body modification that is sacred to a number of cultures. The only thing that was meant to be a tattoo was the chin tattoo, which like I said, actually is from an amalgamation of cultures. Among the Freefolk (in this AU), dots on the cheeks are widespread, one of cultural mainstays of their people, and are generally a sign of peace, whereas the claws are meant to look intimidating and is applied to look like blood (Ygritte applies it for Jon) and is specifically used for military leaders. I really wanted to drive home the point that the goal with Jon’s whole look is to look fearsome.

I have so much more to say about Jon as King Beyond the Wall, how he negotiates with the Wall, the different rules he sets in place, how he sets up being King as a hereditary title once his daughter Bael is born, etc etc, but then I’d be here all day and approximately one person total read through all this. Oops! Ask in my inbox if you have any questions because I would love love love to answer them. All in all, shripscapi (Liesl) is so talented and she worked incredibly hard for me. She was extremely accommodating and changed as much stuff as I wanted. She never complained about the million times I decided something was not quite right and she sent me so many updates. I would recommend working with her to just about anybody. It was very cool what she was able to achieve and I got it in time for the holidays so I can enjoy my winter themed pfp on twt. So thank you from the bottom of my heart Liesl, and I hope everyone showers her with compliments because she deserves it. I also hope that people that don’t enjoy Ygritte very much can still appreciate the art and the concept of Jon as King Beyond the Wall. Hopefully I’ve gotten across how much I love and care for these characters to a chronically online degree and nobody accuses me of mischaracterizing them because that would make me!!!! very sad!!!

Bonus Jon with weirwood leaves:

[kismetlotts]

Kinktober 🎃 day nine: Cheating!

cw: cheating, dubcon, noncon, mentions on rape, open relationships? (Johnny and Simon share), rough sex, mentions of blood, mentions of saliva, fingering, oral sex on reader, bruising, voyeurism, ‘don’t get caught’ trope, ignorance, degrading names such as ‘whore’, vocal Simon, creampie, mentions of having a child

Simon and Johnny who are so used to sharing each other’s little toys: their own girlfriends. It’s a weird bond that brings the two of them together. It’s sick and fucking perverted but it’s something to talk about when the weather turns cold and on a mission.

Sipping on their drinks as they recharge their batteries mumbling a, 'Remember so and so?’ getting a ‘Yeah, they were a good fuck.' in response.

It was more than likely one of the reason why the two blokes struggled with keeping their girlfriends. Most of them rejecting and breaking up with them when they’d bring it up because what woman who was looking for a family, a life, love, would want to fuck their boyfriend’s best friend? Or be tampered with?

The two of them had grown a lot of respect and loyalty for each other from this little routine. A ridiculous amount when you put it against how much respect they gained from each other at war. Protecting one and others lives, killing for each other, just doesn't help the same than sharing some good pussy. Weird logic that not even they understood but with all said, they were tight, close.

So when Johnny got his hands on you, a pretty little thing that refused to fuck until the third date he knew not only was he in danger, but you were. He knew how much Simon would ruin you, take that precious little hole of yours and stuff you so deep you'd feel it for days. Johnny just fucking knew it would happen and when you'd finally let him inside, invited him into your heavenly cunt- he couldn’t let him steal you.

Too delicate and light for Simons heavy way with sex.

"So when's my turn?" The gruff, masked man would ask Johnny. Conversation of you being brought up and the words just tumbled from the cracks of his lips. Normality and need seeping through his tone because as it was such a statement in his and Johnny's relationship, he’d think no other way.

Not once would he even consider the possibility of Johnny turning around and refusing, saying no. Telling him that your pussy- your body- is just for him. Claiming you against his own kind. Barricading and locking you away from him in his designed cell of greed.

It wasn’t going to end well, Johnny was sure of it, so with an awkward laugh and the rub of his neck he spun around facing him, eyes catching Simons through the mask before clearing his throat. Words coming across shakier than intended because he wasn't intimidated by Simon, more fretful of what he’d do knowing that you were off limits.

"Actually, lass is a good' ne. Think she might be a keeper Si." Silence filling the room for about five seconds, the slow click of the clock on the wall the only audible thing. Simons gaze not changing once and it killed Johnny, bugged him harder than a kick to the teeth.

Everything about him yearning to know what Simons brain was thinking or what he was planning, wanting to reach out and shake him, beg him to back off. They were getting old now, it was bound to be called off at some point- when they properly wanted to settle down and have kids and a family, right?

"Oh really?" His accent and words a monotone warning but Johnny was so flushed with relief that he hadn’t exploded and raged at him, his ears missed it. Missed the way his blinks slowed, analysing the man in front of him. Missed the way Simons personally and mindset changed. New thoughts drowning his head so hard he forced out exhales to think straight. Did he think he was better than him? More deserving of your body than gruff ol’ Simon over here? Worthier?

He was fucking seething, the metallic taste in his mouth potent as he bit his tongue, refraining to tell Johnny to go fuck himself, stand up and find you. Go track you down and make you cry both of their names just so he can hear which one sounds better or which one turns him on more.

Moaning your boyfriend’s name so loudly while his friend hits that one part. Choking out, crying out for Mactavish as your eyes roll back, tongue drooping out the side of your lips too. He’d be a liar to say his dick wasn't twitching at the thought.

"Yeah, I'm so sorry Simon-" But he was already shaking his head, hand waving him off with a sly smirk on his face as he told him no worries! Told him that's its alright and that he completely understands. Barely moving an inch the rest of the night as he came up with plans on what he's going to do to you. What he did in fact do to you.

Face down in yours and Johnny’s double bed. Panties damp with your cum from how many times Simon had already made you orgasm, shirt wet with tears and saliva. Rubbing your clit so harshly and fast your body trembled at every little touch. The fine line between touching and fucking, abuse and rape being blurred but you craved it. You longed for it, days of wishing and wondering when he’d come back to please you again.

He’d force your legs apart, holding you by the ankles while he ate like a mad man. Devouring you messily, the noises sounding like a fucking porn movie. Ruining your makeup, your sheets, your body. You couldn’t look Johnny in the eye when he got on all fours, kissing your thigh and humming against the soft skin while asking how you’d got another bruise.

Day and night- when Johnny's downstairs and when he's away. He'd have you begging to stop, pleading him to let you go before you’d lose yourself. His thrusts silencing you, cries turning to moans back to cries to screams of joy- it was mesmerising and so fucking bad of him.

“Oh shut up, babe. You know you want me.” He’d grunt, eyes shutting as he took you in again and again. Eyebrows furrowed in annoyance and ignorance for your cries. Knowing it was only a matter of time before you gave in again, joining him and thrusting back against his cock.

What made it worse was the moans that came from this man. Johnny was never vocal- never vocal enough for you but Simon sounded almost in tears. Each thrust like he’s on the brink of orgasm, you felt so good he couldn’t stay quiet- he didn’t want to.

His favourite memory was when he snuck into your window, almost kicking the stupid Halloween decorations Johnny had put up outside on his way up. The sky pitch black and your bedroom likewise but he could see you in his night vision goggles, sneaking behind you as you changed out of your clothes getting ready for bed.

Bending you over the bedframe, peeling down your panties and thrusting into you for a quickie. The sound of Johnny's electric toothbrush coming from the bathroom one room away only adding to his excitement. He could step in any minute by now, luckily from the darkness Simon had an advantage and most likely enough time to hide if he wanted to. If he wanted to leave your pussy.

Gloved fingers slipped into your mouth for you to suck or bite. Anything to help silence your moans. It excited him the fact that Johnny could find him, Johnny could catch him and realise all this time he though you were safe and committed to him you’d gone behind his back. His precious little girl who actually is just a dirty whore. A dirty whore who lets her hole be used. By men she doesn’t even know.

He wonders what you do when Johnny brings him up in conversation, I mean, he figures you haven't spilt the beans to him yet so do you just laugh and nod on along? Hearing his name, acting like you don't know his touch or how his tongue feels. Pretending he's a stranger, just some stranger who's dick is drilled into your memory. He doesn't fuck like Johnny, he's bigger than him, hits all the places that Johnny can’t. You can never get Simon out of your mind.

Filling you up with his cum and laughing deeply at himself. He's got to be careful with it- what if you two were trying for a baby? That would be a shock, wouldn’t it? Gorgeous little kid coming out looking just like Simon- Simons eyes, Simons hair; a little mini Simon left all for you to raise.

Maybe Johnny would be too thick to realise, too slow to pick up on why his son looks so much like his best friend- that the son he’d always wanted actually belong to Simon. Oh fucking hell, he was a dark deluded arsehole- who thinks like this? Slipping back out of the window and shutting it the same time as Johnny walked into the room.

Large soft body crawling on top of you and pushing you further into the bed. Lips attacking your sensitive neck as his already hard cock slips its way inside of your warm, creampied folds. The darkness hiding all the evidence and leaving him to believe it’s just how wet you are for him. How needy and desperate you are for him.

Blissfully unaware that the wetness lubing his cock up, letting him fuck you with ease and making him feel so hot and so good, was no other than his best friends cum. Dribbling out your hole and onto your thigh as he picks up the pace.

[caitified]

Do a fic for when Kate discovered that her wife was pregnant and how she told everyone of the team, you could also talk about how was the pregnancy

positive

kate martin x reader

warnings: ivf and pregnancy! going back in time a bit for those who have read my other kate family stories.

kate’s hands trembled slightly as she held the test in front of her, her wide eyes darting between the little screen and your face. you couldn’t quite tell if the tears forming in her eyes were from joy, shock, or a mixture of both.

you had been waiting for her to get home from practice all day, your nerves building with each passing hour. the positive test had been sitting in your pocket, burning a hole through the fabric as you tried to focus on anything other than the massive news you were about to share.

kate had barely walked through the door when you blurted, “i need to tell you something.”

her forehead creased in concern as she kicked off her sneakers. “what’s wrong? are you okay?”

you shook your head quickly, stepping closer and pulling the test out of your pocket. “no, nothing’s wrong. actually, everything’s perfect.”

her eyes darted down to the object in your hand, and for a moment, she froze. “is that…?”

you nodded, unable to hold back the tears that welled in your eyes. “kate, we did it. i’m pregnant.”

kate’s jaw dropped, her bag slipping from her shoulder to the floor. “oh my god,” she whispered, reaching out to take the test from you, her fingers brushing yours.

“it’s real,” you murmured, your voice shaky but full of awe.

kate let out a breathless laugh, staring at the test as though it were the most precious thing in the world. then she dropped it onto the counter and pulled you into her arms, holding you as tightly as she could. she buried her face in the crook of your neck, her body shaking with a mixture of laughter and tears.

“we’re having a baby,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against your skin.

you felt tears prick at your own eyes as you clung to her. “we’re having a baby.”

it had been months of waiting, hoping, and holding your breath, and now it was real. you were pregnant with your daughter, a miracle born from countless doctor’s appointments, late-night conversations, and unwavering support from kate every step of the way.

kate finally pulled back to look at you, her face lit with a smile so bright it made your heart ache. “you’re incredible,” she said, cupping your face in her hands. “i don’t even know how to put into words how much i love you.”

“you don’t have to,” you replied, leaning into her touch. “just love our little girl as much as you love me.”

kate laughed, brushing her thumb over your cheek. “she’s already got my whole heart, just like her mom.”

you both stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other and the overwhelming joy of what was to come. when kate finally pulled you toward the couch, settling in with you wrapped in her arms, she tilted her head thoughtfully.

“we have to tell the team,” she said, with you curled up against her.

you groaned, hiding your face in her shoulder. “do we have to tell everyone? you know they’re never going to let us hear the end of it.”

kate chuckled, stroking your hair. “babe, they’re going to be so excited. plus, it’s going to get out eventually, and i’d rather they hear it from us than from some random gossip site.”

you sighed, knowing she was right. “fine. but you’re doing most of the talking.”

“deal,” kate agreed with a grin.

🫂🫂🫂

the next day, kate gathered her las vegas aces teammates at the team facility, promising there was “big news” to share. the group was buzzing with curiosity, and you could feel your nerves mounting as everyone settled in.

“alright, everyone,” kate started, standing at the front of the room with her arm around you. “we’ve got something pretty exciting to share.”

a’ja was the first to pipe up, her grin mischievous. “you two finally getting a dog?”

“better,” kate replied, her smile widening as she glanced at you.

the room went quiet, everyone hanging on her next words. kate took your hand, squeezing it gently.

“we’re having a baby.”

for a moment, the room was completely silent. then, chaos erupted.

cheers, squeals, and excited chatter filled the air as the team surged forward, wrapping the two of you in hugs and bombarding you with questions.

“when did you find out?” “how far along are you?” “oh my god, is it a boy or a girl?”

kate fielded the questions with ease, her hand never leaving yours as she proudly shared the news.

“it’s a girl,” she said, her voice full of pride. “our little girl.”

the team melted at that, and a’ja immediately started brainstorming baby names while kelsey demanded that she would be the cool aunt.

amidst all the excitement, you caught kate’s eye, and she gave you a look that said everything she didn’t need to say out loud.

thanks for reading! requests are open and feel free to give me ideas for their family.

[wndrhyuka]

size kink/innocence kink with soft dom!kai? with lots of praise plsss🥹

eeeeek i think about this all the time! (and ty for the ask nonie >3<) ppl underestimate the power of dom kai, we know he can wear the pants! especially in bed hehe

warnings: nsfw, non idol au, establish relationship, fem intended reader, unedited.

new bf!kai who's incredibly gentle with you. kai sees you as a small, precious thing to take great care of. how could he see you as anything else when you looked so short standing next to him and the other boys. treats you so gently in bed, wanting to make sure you finish first every time and never being too rough, unless that's what you ask for.

new bf!kai is obsessed with your contrasting sizes, loving positions like missionary or cowgirl that really emphasized the difference in your builds. on top of him, he could wrap his hands around your waist and lift you up and down, helping you bounce on his cock with ease, "fuck, just like that," he sighs in delight, head falling back against the pillow while you squirm on top of him, "doin so good for me, angel."

new bf!kai makes sure to worship you at every available opportunity. day to day, he makes sure to show you off. constantly complimenting you and meaning every word of it, displaying you on his wallpapers and in a polaroid on the back of his phone. during sex he's no different. always showering you with praise in any way he can. "so pretty like this," he smiles when he's looking down at you, watching the way your face contorts with each thrust of his hips. being the type to watch you unfold at his will with a smirk on his face, he loves whispering little praises and teases in the warm air between you to send you that much further over the edge all without ceasing his efforts toward your orgasm.

[spatialwave]

Confession || Jayce Talis x Reader

➸ ask: “The sacred romantic moments prompts are so darn cute I can’t choose😩how about ‘truth is that i’m so damn in love with you that i don’t know what to do with myself’ for jayce. Thanking you🫶🏻” – ➸ pairing: jayce talis x gn!reader ➸ word count: 1.9k  ➸ tags: mdni! fluff, hurt/comfort, yearning, one-sided love, confessions, childhood friends, no use of y/n. ➸ notes: i think i popped off with this one! took me a couple of days to write, but i am so happy with it! if you like yearning then this one is for you!! hehe. the ask came from this prompt! – ➸ summary: jayce talis has never experienced love quite like this.

The melodic whistling from Jayce had woven itself into the very fabric of your life. A soundtrack to your life you hadn’t asked for. You were never able to escape the sounds or his presence. Stuck at the hip since children, spending much of your life watching him dream larger than life. 

Jayce Talis was hope personified.

He carried a quiet tune under his breath, careful fingers toying with a rune he had meticulously carved. The warm pads of his thumbs brushed away the layer of dust that accumulated from the careful engravings, pausing his whistling for a moment as he carried out the task with a swift blow of his breath.

“Someone’s chipper,” your voice rang through his cluttered apartment. Leaning casually against the door frame, you watched as he perked up, head snapping over his shoulder. Those eyes reminiscent of the sun breaking through the clouds settled on your figure.

It was a pain, Jayce thought, for you to be so oblivious of his feelings.

Days, weeks, and months turned into years. All this time spent loving you, one-sided and terrified that you may never know. Too afraid to ruin a perfectly good thing. His yearning clung like a shadow.

Jayce had been there for you – always. Your first broken bone, your first love… your first heartbreak. Jayce remembered that day vividly, the way your body shook as you sobbed on his shoulder begging for the ache in your heart to stop, all while he held you and drowned with guilt for feeling happy that was the one there for you.

All because it meant that just maybe you would see him in another light. See him as a man who was worthy of your love.

As always, he bottled it up. Refusing to jeopardize the bond you shared. If he couldn’t have your heart, he’d protect his own.

“Yeah,” Jayce replied, his voice filling your heart with a sense of familiarity as you stepped into the room, hands settled onto your hips. Dropping his supplies, he quirked an eyebrow and straightened up slightly, “Wait, how’d you get in here?”

“You know, Jayce,” you sighed, giving a short ‘tsk’ of disappointment as your eyes bounced around his lab. It was messier than usual, the scattered tools and half-finished contraptions indicating he’d been spending more time here lately, likely on the brink of another grand discovery, as he’d call it. 

“Locking doors is free and usually saves you from burglars,” you continued, bending to poke at one of the hextech crystals on a messy desk.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, hurrying to your side with a breath of concern, snatching the orb from your curious touch, “Careful!”

The way he carefully handled his precious work was endearing, almost as tender as cradling a newborn baby. There was no faulting him for that–after all, you weren’t going to be the one to have your eyebrows burn into flames again. You learned your lesson, but it was hard not to rouse a reaction out of him once in a while.

To see the way he’d growl under his breath when you pestered him, or how he’d nudge you with his elbow affectionately. Little gestures that made him fall for you harder and harder with every passing day.

You were so damned insufferable, and he couldn’t get enough.

Eyes met yours as the two of you stood next to each other, silently. A moment of solace to bask in each other’s presence.

“You look like you need a break,” you murmured, eyes squinting to get a better look at Jayce to take in the obvious signs of exhaustion on his face. His eyes were heavy and highlighted by dark circles underneath, the growing stubble–“Did you even sleep last night?”

“I’m fine,” he chided, avoiding your gaze as he turned to tuck away the crystal you’d bothered, safely in its proper case, “As for sleep, I got enough to keep me going.”

“So… three hours, give or take? Including a twenty-minute nap for about ten minutes sometime around the three o’cock mark.”

“That’s creepy,” Jayce shot you a sideways glance, a smirk pulling the corner of his lips, “You’re creepy for knowing that.”

Your mouth dropped in a dramatic expression of mock disbelief, a silent gasp, “And you’re quite rude, Jayce. It’s not kind to name-call.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he snorted, slipping off his gloves from his fingers and resting them atop the desk behind him. As your eyes flickered out his open window, momentarily distracted, he took the time to admire you as you soaked in the sunlight that cascaded past his open curtains. The sunlight illuminating your features.

Jayce smiled, captivated by your effortless beauty. He would do anything to be given the privilege of showing you the way you looked in his eyes.

“You need a break,” you declared, your eyes landing on his just as he averted his gaze, “Come on before you go crazy.”

Your hand extended toward him, causing his heart to leap up into his throat as he stared down at it. Impatient, you shook it in silent urgency, and he was quick to fill it with his own as you tugged him far, far from his cluttered sanctuary that desperately needed a good clean.

“Gods,” you breathed, laughter bubbling up your chest as you found yourselves standing on the bridge that separated Piltover from Zaun. Your hands rested over the railing, fingers curved along the stone as you leaned over and looked down at the waters below, “Remember that time we came out here back when we were… what, fifteen? We stole that bottle of wine from my mother’s cabinet and drank so much that you nearly toppled off the ledge trying to climb on it.”

Jayce hadn’t been paying attention, hands tight over the rail like yours, entranced by you. Your lips were stretched into a wide, toothy grin as you looked down and relished in the cool breeze that tickled your warm skin.

His heart ached, thumping irregularly as it yearned, and cried out to be loved by you.

It’s why he allowed himself to be swallowed by his work for days on end–anything to escape the unbearable ache of being around you. It hurt, to be next to you, like a physical blow to the chest.

For years, he stood quietly off to the sidelines, watching as you were loved by others. Seeing the way your entire being lit up when you spoke so passionately about the love in your life, light in your eyes. Only to be shattered when they inevitably stomped all over you like you were nothing, leaving you a shattered mess. Jayce would be there to pick up the pieces, spending long, sleepless nights consoling you until your soft snores overtook the tears that streamed down your cheeks.

Jayce was nothing if not a coward. Regret clouded his mind each night when he would berate himself for not having the courage to confess his feelings. To tell you how much he fucking loved you.

He hated how angry it made him.

“Hello?” 

Your voice snapped him from his reverie, and his amber eyes widened as you stared at him, piercing through the fog of his thoughts.

“You really need some rest,” you said quickly, your eyebrows furrowing together in concern, “are you sure you’ve been okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, running a hand over his tired face in frustration as he turned away from you, “just tired.”

“Jayce,” your voice softened, and it struck a nerve in him that he wished hadn’t.

“I said I’m fine. Can you just leave it?”

Your body stiffened as you watched him in stunned silence, searching his face for any understanding of what was going on behind those pained eyes. Was it the research? Had his big breakthrough fallen out of grasp? Maybe he needed a nice herbal tea and a nap.

The entirety of your mind reeled with ways to help him, anything to alleviate the weight of the world he seemingly carried on his shoulders–unaware of the emotional turmoil that chained him to the ground beneath him.

“Why are you lying to my face?” You stood your ground stubbornly, arms crossed firmly over your chest, “It’s okay to be tired, Jayce. You work too hard.”

“I’m not lying,” Jayce replied sharply, a mix of frustration and desperation bleeding together. One hand lingered along the railing, the other moving with the passion of his words that masked the truth, “Why would I lie to you? I just–” he scrambled to gather his thoughts.

The struggle was evident on his face, and you felt your own frustration boil over. It was far and few between that you both indulged in these confrontations, bickering like an old married couple until they exploded into fiery words that often ended in mumbled apologies.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Your tone was loud and sharp, “I’m just trying to help!”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

The words stung your cheeks like a harsh winter storm. 

Jayce’s jaw clenched tight, emotions roiling under his skin,  “Do you want to know the truth?”

You watched him, noticing the storm that swirled in his eyes, “Jayce–”

“The truth is–” Jayce began, lips trembling as he pushed through, “the truth is that I’m so damn in love with you, that I don’t know what to do with myself,” he exclaimed, confession spilling from his lips as he pressed a hand to his chest, “It’s impossible to be around you because my heart breaks every time I have to watch you leave, knowing that I can’t be the one by your side,” he choked on his words, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I’m so in love with you that it physically hurts. It’s unbearable, gods, it hurts so fucking much.”

Jayce’s chest heaved with each deep breath, his guts spilled out in front of you. Vulnerable and open–what he’d been avoiding for so long.

Your lips trembled. Moving, but unable to form any sentences. All you could do was look into those eyes that spoke more than his passionate ramblings.

Your heart swelled, chest tightening in the best way possible.

“Do you know how hard it is?” he mumbled, taking a step back, “I can’t stand this anymore. I can’t. I’m sorry–”

“No,” your hand shot out and latched to his wrist, fingers tightening against his skin and holding him back from leaving. Gold-specked eyes widened, staring at you with yearning, “You don’t get to leave me here, not like this.”

Jayce watched as tears brimmed in your eyes, a smile creeping onto your lips. Beaming under the evening sun and glowing so beautifully, as if you were both earthly and divine–transcending. You were too good for this world, too good for him.

“Don’t make me stay if I can’t have you,” he whispered, voice fragile as it broke like glass.

Then your lips were on his, a gentle touch that eased every worry that dared to destroy his mind with heartbreak. It planted a seed of hope deep in his heart, one that would blossom too quickly and strongly. All because it was you who did it, the one he’d longed for all these years.

“Then stay,” you murmured against his lips, answered only by strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist with no intention of letting you go.

[midnightmah07]

i miss sending things to your inbox but since I don’t have any oc x canon of yours currently being done, have some sleepyhowls

It wasn’t the way they acted around each other that gave it away—at least, not for Jack. It was the way he looked at Dawn. As though any blink might rob him of some small, precious detail. Ace never missed the chance to tease him for it. Constantly.

“You painted your nails?” Jack asked, taking her small hand in his.

“Huh? Looks the same to me,” Epel muttered with a shrug.

“Vil let me borrow some nail polish,” Dawn explained with a chuckle. “It’s a little lighter than the last one. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Of course he noticed. He’s in lo—” Ace started, only to yelp and wince as a sharp kick landed under the table. Wonder who could’ve done that.

Later that night, the teasing was long forgotten, but Jack’s gaze wasn’t. He sat quietly across from her, his sharp eyes never leaving her. The others were fast asleep, their impromptu sleepover stretching later than expected. Yet Dawn, plagued by her usual insomnia, sat awake. Jack, ever stubborn, had stayed up with her.

“You should really sleep, Jack,” Dawn said softly, her voice tinged with concern. A faint smile curved her lips. “You don’t have to stay awake because of me.”

“I can take it,” Jack grumbled, suppressing a yawn. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Well, I do, because you’re awake for my sake,” she replied with a gentle laugh. And again, she noticed the way he looked at her. It wasn’t predatory, not like the sharp gaze of a wolf hunting its prey. No, it was something softer, something almost tender.

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked away, trying to escape the intensity of his eyes.

“Wait,��� Jack murmured, standing slightly taller as he stepped closer. His ears twitched, and his voice dipped low, almost vulnerable. “Please… don’t look away, Dawn.”

“I want to look at you,” he said, the words leaving him without hesitation.

Dawn’s breath hitched. Her hands fidgeted with the sleeves of her pajama top as warmth crept into her cheeks. That look—it wasn’t the intense stare of a wolf or even the playful glint of a puppy. No, it was something else entirely. Something… overwhelming.

“I… I should go to sleep,” she finally stammered, her voice unsteady. “You should try to do the same.”

Jack nodded, his stoic demeanor slipping back into place. “Yeah… goodnight.” With that, he laid back onto his makeshift bed, his eyes finally breaking away from hers.

Dawn stood frozen for a moment, her thoughts swirling. Her heart was still racing from his words, his gaze, the intensity of the moment. She returned to her spot, pulling the blanket over her, but sleep wouldn’t come—not because of her insomnia, but because of the warmth that lingered.

For the first time in a while, the night didn’t feel so heavy. And it wasn’t insomnia keeping her awake. It was him.

Girls (me) when SleepyHowls:

THEY ARE SOOOOOOOOOOO CUTEEEEEEEEE I LOVE THEM SO MUCH OH MY GOSH IM GONNA FAINT I CAN'T TAKE IT ANY LONGER😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

HOW ARE THEY SO ADORABLE. JAIL. RIGHT TO JAIL. THIS SHOULD BE ILLEGAL. YOU'RE GOING TO PRISON FOR WRITING SOMETHING SO FLUFFY AND CUTE AND WHOLESOME AND *EXPLODES*

I'm sobbing. Crying even. I can't do this no more. I'm gonna pass out.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 748: The sixth and seventh place

Pag 1

1: Keep it up, Rokudai!!

It's past 9pm!!

2: Three hours left....!!

Until we complete the 1000km... there are still

3: 60km!!

Yeah!!

Pag 2

1: 20km in an hour... if we can run 4 laps per hour, we can do it!!

We can reach 1000km!!

Pag 3

1: Yeah!!

4: We can do it!!

Yeah!!

5: Gooo!! Do your best!!

55km left!! Go!!

Will their bottles be enough....

6: Those two can do it

Will they really complete the 1000km? Kinaka and Rokudai

Even though they're first years!!

Pag 4

1: There was also a moment where he seemed to be having a tough time, but Kinaka encouraged him

They looked so fired up now, right!?

They got back up!!

The look in their eyes was terrific!!

2: Sugimoto ran with determination

3: But... this fight is...

He... Sugimoto knows all that well

He's fighting understanding that

4: Kuaaaa

5: Garuaaa

Pag 5

1: It was probably the same for Danchiku

2: Danchiku watched Sohoku running for two years

And Sugimoto for three years....!!

4: So they chose that race!!

Pag 6

1: They chose to fight!!

3: Are you an idiot... Sugimoto

4: If you ... wanted to run with me at our third and last Inter High, you could have stuck behind me, easily, and take the goal that way

5: and become... a member... the “sixth man”

Pag 7

1: You chose a harsh way

2: You were thinking about the team....

4: You were thinking about what you needed to do....

5: That's just like you....

6: You know, Imaizumi, I think, I think it's necessary

7: For our third Inter High members this year, we definitely....!!

Pag 8

2: It's 10pm!!

40km left!!

Pag 9

2: Yeah!!

4: We can do it, Rokudai!!

Yeah!

Let's go, Rokudai!!

Yeah!

5: I confirmed it earlier when we passed through the goal – it's good news, so be glad!!

Yeah!

6: Good news!? Teh!?

7: We have already surpassed the third year Sugimoto-san!!

Pag 10

1: Huh!?

Is he resting? Or is he preserving his strength? We don't know, but anyway it looks like right now Sugimoto-san isn't on the course!!

2: For now, we....

3: Are sixth and seventh place

The “sixth place”....

4: Will become one of the Inter High members!!

Pag 11

1: Mem....

Really!?

2: Wait, teh, I'm getting dizzy

That... wouldn't that be amazing, teh!?

3: It's an hypothesis but, even if Sugimoto-san wants to chase us from here on, there's a “surpassing ban board”, so if we keep running then he can't catch up to us!!

And we'll secure the “sixth place”!!

4: You're so smart, Kinaka-kun!!

5: Right?!

6: Waaaa

A member... it's almost within reach, teh.... that's incredible, teh...!!

Pag 12

1: I'm so glad, teh, Kinaka-kun!!

Yeah!!

No, it's too soon to cry!!

2: I'm so glad we kept on running

There are still 40km left!! Don't lose your pace!!

3: Tears are for after the finish line!!

4: Ahh, it's here, teh... a blan comment, it's been a while

Oi!! I cheer you up and yet you hit me!!

5: But now it touches my heart!!

It's thanks to your encouragement, Kinaka-kun, that I arrived here, teh!!

6: Uhm!!

Pag 13

1: Let's aim for the Inter High!!

Yeah!!

3: Go

4: Go, Rokudai

Pag 14

1: It's only 40km left.... you can do it on your own, Rokudai

2: It hurts-!!

3: I reached my limit for the pain

All the “let's go”, “let's do it” and the encouragement were to deceive you

4: I had to

I've been having leg cramps for a while

5: The “Inter High”

6: Even though it's right before my eyes

It's so frustrating

Pag 15

2: Wha- Rokudai

You moved back before I noticed...

3: If you're tired and need to slow down, tell me it, teh

I'll push you and help you!!

4: Don't underestimate the “helping ability” of a former manager, teh!!

Pag 16

1: Rokudai!!

5: Rokudaiii!!

6: You mean to say “let's still go”!?

7: Is it connecting possibilities? Rokudai's hand!!

Pag 17

1: Don't cry, Kinaka Tsugunao, crying is for after the finish line!!

2: Ah!!

3: Alright, the climb is over, I'll pull you on the downhill!!

4: Yeah, teh!!

Pag 18

1: Waa-teh!? Suddenly I can't keep my balance!!

2: Rokudai!?

3: A flat tire!!

4: Huh, a flat tire!?

Your tires are screaming for the 1000km

Ahh

Dammit!! Mechanical troubles in a time like this!!

5: The tools to repair a flat tire are only at the goal!!

But with a flat tire, on the downhill....!!

We have no choice but to push it slowly downhill!!

Pag 19

1: Hurry!!

2: Ugh-

3: If we go so slow, Sugimoto-san might come!!

4: Sugimoto-san is chasing us, teh!!

Pag 20

1: Sugimoto won't come

2: I've come to bring you a message from Sugimoto

[moonilit]

having so much emotions over Jote and Joshua I can’t even articulate, like

[lavendorium]

Finishing the last of my con prep with the help of my perfect angelic baby son

[springmagpies]

It doesn’t matter how many times I read the series, every time I finish The Hunger Games series I sob uncontrollably. Everything about it is complete artistic and literary genius. And the fact that when I finish the movie series I get that same effect, leaving me sitting staring at my screen absolutely bawling just proves how incredible the series as a whole is.

[stucky-just-stucky]

@rillils RILLSLLSLSLSLSLLSLSSSSS !!!!!!!!!! OUR BOYSSSSSSSSSSSSSS THYE LOOK SO JGOODDDDDDDD OH MY GODDDDDDD

✧ "𝙸 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝙳𝚎𝚊𝚍."

✧ "𝙸 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚆𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛."

ɪɢ x  ᴛᴡɪᴛ x

[shidoukanae]

good afternoon the full posts for these pics are both far down in my queue atm but i wanna post snapshots of these fanart pieces a bit early because i adore how Paris and Helene look!!

I'm still new to this artstyle but gosh am i fangirling for these two!! i dont have the best grasp on their designs but my head is full of thoughts of them, both their manhwa interpretation and their light novel interpretation and im super excited to see how they interact next!!

[screampied]

࣪₊ 𐙚 YOU SAY IT'S BIG BUT U TAKE IT ?! ★

gojo, nanami, toji, sukuna, geto. you come home struck by a love curse and need their help on "recovering" from the after effects. (anon req)

𐚁̸ wc. 3.8k

𐚁̸ warnings. fem! reader, feral reader, love pollen/curse, unprotected, sukuna has two dicks, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f + m receiving), squırting, biting, spanks, dumbification, overstim, brēeding, premature ejaculatıon, mdni.

☆ SUKUNA RYŌMEN

“wha— you’re clingier than usual,” the curse grumbles as you burst through the door. you’re panting steadily. he was almost shirtless with his usual kimono that’s exposing his abs. rickety arms of yours wrap around his waist before you drop right down onto your knees. with a raised eyebrow, he huffs. “eh. should i even ask.”

“no,” you reply within a second. your voice inwas nothing but a pure trembly tune. your body . . it felt hot all over, some stupid pollen or whatever it was was responsible for your feral state. you were even smelling the definition of the word too. you were grateful he didn’t ask, alas instead—he crosses all of his arms before glancing down at you. pawing at his boxers to fall down, it comes down slowly. the wait was killing you as you glance at his huge hardened bulge preparing to be exposed. oh, you’re already drooling. you needed sukuna so bad, your thighs were already quaking. the air surrounding you both suddenly felt scorching and the minuscule goosebumps that reside amongst your skin felt even hotter. “i- i need a taste, ‘kuna. please.”

he hums in amusement. “oh? don’t let me stop you then, horny girl,” and an oversized hand grips onto the crown of your head. with a nod, he views as your eyes light up at the now hefty sight of his two flashy dicks. with a groan—he shudders once he gapes at your tongue and how it licks against the one near the front. “mhm, you little . . minx. good, take it then. enjoy your precious meal.”

sukuna’s in love with your mouth—with your tongue, you’re so sloppy and you just can’t help it.

running your sweet tongue along both areas of his dicks—every part, the base, the length, and even the sensitive frenulum—he groans loudly. it’s an almost roar that echoes through his chambers. both of his dicks which were visibly stacked amongst each other. one was in front while the other was in back. each were the same amounts of thick and broad. thickset and fucking heavy, you bob your head down against the first one until he shoots raw into your mouth within just a few minutes. “fuck, easy, e-easy,” he stammers, feeling you snake a hand against his neglected cock to stroke it, fondling with his heavyset balls.

hearing sukuna stutter does something to you. you couldn’t exactly describe it, but you wanted to hear more of it. his head tilts back slightly as his lips purse, preparing to click his tongue. “ugh, can’t handle you when you suck that good,” and he grabs you by the hair, making you return his lascivious gaze. “look at you. jus’ a cock drunken mess. got m-me,” and he deeply exhales. sukuna chokes on his own words, barely even able to finish his sentence.

you took so much out of him in such little time. truth be told, maybe this love curse whatever it was, was a good thing. spit races down both sides of your mouth as you happily keep his shaft warm into your tight throat. his cum was a lot, a bittery taste of his own lingers on your tongue before he cock taps against the roof of your mouth. if it wasn’t for you doing a simple trick with your fingers, you’d have gag. you wanted more, lathering your tongue against his tip with no shame—you then reach a hand down to play with your pulsing clit.

“mphm.” you mumble inaudibly, feeling him start to push your head further down. a chaffing smile goes against your mouth and he scoffs. you’re making him feel things. things he didn’t even know he could feel. sukuna’s cold heart significantly flutters at the sight of you. it flutters simply at how good you make him feel. it’s a feeling he didn’t want to stop. at least not yet.

“god, ‘m gonna cum again,” he inhales before exhaling lowly. as he does so, his chest collapses back in from his sigh before he’s now facefucking you. the curse’s thigh taps and clenches, muscles creating a flexion within the nerves stored inside before he sees you drooling for more. as the bobbing of your head’s tempo increases, he groans before making you stare dead into his eyes with a simple grip. “nasty girl. comin’ home just to slobber on my dick, look at that f-face, fuuuuck,” and the moment you end up making him cum for about the umpteenth time of the night, he’s embarrassed. face flushed, you’re switching between his dicks to give them both equal amounts of love before he moves you off from sucking him. “brat,” he glares, grabbing your chin as a few sloshing spurts of cum pour down your chin. sukuna then leans in to kiss you, his tongue tweaks against your lips and he tastes own arousal with no shame at all. shame never exists for a man like him—a cursed being like him. you moan, feeling a fang of his gently bite into your bottom lip before he pulls away. in a low, shaky tone, he grumbles. “wipe that smile off your face, woman. this isn’t o-over.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO

“my love?” nanami hoarsely pulls down the newspaper he was reading from his face. the glimmer of the g-shock he wore that wraps around his wrist ricochets against the chandelier hanging above the two of you. eyeing you closely, he leans back against his wooden rocking chair. “how was work? your boss take it easy on you today?”

“kento,” you breathe, getting right on his lap. you’re met with those same gentle fawn irises that’s captured your heart within an instant. a hand of his gently strokes against your waist before he watches you speak in such a needy way. “touch me— please, i want you so bad.”

nanami chortles lowly. “aw, i want you too honey.”

“no . . like, i want you,” and he sees how you’re glancing back at him with feral, blown pupils. nanami could tell how needy you were just from your tone and body language alone. he could never say no to you, his beloved wife. nanami knew you, and most importantly, he knew every inch of your body like the back of his hand . .

the moment he’s got you laid on your back, everything’s lost. it’s as if time comes to an abrupt stop. the moment you feel his thick cock ease it’s way into your cunt, you immensely swallow him whole. “so warm ‘n snug,” he whispers, bringing his lips toward your face to pepper various kisses against your skin. he’s so gentle with you, he always was. he cups your chin before giving you a deep kiss to distract you from the brief tang of you clamping onto him. “how . . do you feel? is this okay—?”

his low voice was so smooth—leisurely, he’s rocking his hips against you before he playfully nibbles near your chin. a hand of his intertwined with your fingers as he waits for your sweet response. “i- i feel hot,” you moan, throwing your arms around him. “more please, ‘ken. makes me throb when you touch me.”

nanami chuckles, a quick piston of his hips and your legs wrap around his slim waist. his cologne swarms around your nostrils before you whine again. you sound so pretty—melodious, each moan that escapes out of you sounds like a harmony within each lewdly musical moment that passes. “so the curse makes you more sensitive for me?” he coos against your neck, another free hand of his rubbing against your tummy. you’re just laid back, taking every appetizing inch of him and your eyes roll and roll to the very backs of your cranium. “my sweet girl,” and his voice—you could get off to it, you were already profusely pulsing from his deeply through strokes regardless. “i’ll touch every inch of this perfect body if it ‘cures’ you, mhm.”

his touch makes you more sensitive though. nanami was sensual, taking his time with you. his pace was not to fast or too slow. just right . .

his fat cock slowly jackhammers itself into you, irregular breaths sounding more and more jagged. as he’s talking you through it against the shell of your ear, you dig your fingertips into his back. as you run a hand down, you feel a tiny mole print against his skin. “kento, r- right there, riiiight there,” and you’re keeping the entirety of his waist hostage with your ankles. “cum in me, your cum’s gonna save me i think . . s-so, please.”

“you say such silly things sometimes, my sweet,” he whispers against your neck, giving it a long suck. you moan from his tongue flicking against the new mark he created before he’s quickening his hips just a tad bit. the bed creaks and sings, it’s as if it’s making a new mixtape with its noises. “but alright, if my baby wants me to fill her up so she can feel better, i’ll do that,” and before he shoots into you—he grabs your chin. “ah, but look at me though,” and he’s panting heavily, sepia-colored strands sticking against the sheet of sweat that goes against his forehead. “look at me. look into my eyes, wifey,” and he sneaks a kiss onto your trembling lips. thrusting into you at brimming speed, he groans. “atta girl, there she is,” he purrs at you, a thumb brushing against your quivering bottom lip. he looked at you as if he loved you, nanami was sweet but a secret filthy man at heart. only for you though. “wanna see that pretty face. think ‘m gonna give you a baby or two while ‘m at it, my love. f-fuck.”

☆ GOJO SATORU

“girl—could be a little nicer y’know,” gojo grumbles as you lightly flick him against his back onto the plump mattress. you were always no match for his unprovoked sass. with a teasing pout, he’s staring right back up at you as you straddle his chin. grabbing a fistful of his hair, you inch your pooling warm entrance against his face. “how do you even get struck by a ‘love’ curse anyway? thought that only happens in fan fiction, heh.”

“just shut up,” you moan, hovering over your boyfriend’s face. he was so pretty — just gawking at him alone had you going more feral. gojo’s eyes, they were always so ethereal looking. a bright blueish cerulean—almost a viridescent green with how it reflects against the bedroom light. “f-fuck, i want you to taste it so bad, ‘toru. want you.”

with an impish smile, he slides the side of your panties aside. “soooo, what are ya waitin’ for? let me eat this ‘curse’ out of you, angel.”

and the moment you plant your sopping wet cunt against his face, he’s ultimately determined to do so. gojo was a messy eater. it was really no denying it. you’re swiping your slick heat against his nose like a credit card and he eats it up everytime. drool pours from the corners of his mouth as he’s gripping your thighs with both hands. doughy padded thumbs of his pierce into your skin as you’re rutting against his face in rapturing pleasure. “like that baby, f-fuck.”

“go on—praise me some more,” he giggles, warm breath fanning against your entrance. your stomach caves and seizes in and out as you’re still moving all around. it doesn’t take long before your legs start to quaver. “call me a good boy, yeah.”

as much as you wanted to eye roll in the most dramatic way, you couldn’t.

you’ve got a firm grip into his white, snowy strands before giving it a solid yank. “g- good boy, ‘s good for me, ‘toru. think your tongue is working,” and your voice was so soft, its delivery was almost a mere whisper. gojo’s sucking against your clit, casually making out with it in such a sloppy way that’s he’s imitating a french kiss. you continuously pulse into his mouth, feeling him breath through his nose before he spanks your sensitive entrance. as he does such a thing, a splash of your own arousal goes onto his face. teasingly, he sticks out his tongue to lick it clean. “f-fuck.” you whine, and he starts to feel himself get hard. not from you calling him a good boy, but the view itself.

the view of you, riding his face, straddling him in such a sexy way makes him feel a raging hard on in his boxers.

oh, the way you were maintaining such eye contact.

so sensual, you use his face for your own pleasure, hearing your heartbeat arise at a more quick through your ears. the sharp edges of gojo’s teeth nibble playfully against your thighs before you whimper once he prods a lengthy finger inside. he’s located your g-spot just like that, immediately moaning aloud before his digit curls up into your gummy walls. “fuck, you’re so hot when you pull my hair, ‘s no fair,” and as you’re whimpering loudly, chewing on the skin of your arm—you end up finishing after a while.

the moment you do, you end up squirting a bit. it comes out in a tiny trickle—gojo’s face lights up as you’re struggling to keep your thighs open for him but he spreads them further apart for you anyway. “shit,” he exhales with a cunning grin, that smug expression you oh so desperately wanted to wipe off. “i didn’t know my girl was a squirter. maybe you should get struck by that love curse again,” and he licks against your pussy for a final time before spanking your folds. “let’s do that again. wanna get you real soaked tonight. i always like my girls messy.”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“no way you woke me up just so i could fuck you.” toji deadpans, bringing a hand towards the hair that sticks against his chest, scratching it for four long seconds. two arched brows of his curl into a furrow before he grunts. “i was havin’ a good ass dream too.”

“toji i’m gonna die,” you protest, tugging at his boxers. “i searched up the symptoms a- and it said that if i don’t do anything um— sexual related, ‘m gonna die within four hours.”

“oh boo,” he rolls his eyes, and you moan once you feel the roughness of his palm squeeze against your ass. toji pulls you close to him, so close that you could feel the heat of his body radiate against your own. so close that you could smell his natural manly scent. the strong manly musk, his scent alone had you throbbing right inside of your laced little panties. in a groggy voice, toji leans in to suck against your neck, earning out a mewling whimper from you. “fine, but don’t be surprised if i don’t let ya cum. my dream was really fuckin’ good.”

knowing toji—he was probably dreaming about being a millionaire, but anyway . .

he happily helps with your little issue by fucking you thoroughly into the sheets. harp hips of his penetrate into you again and again. you whine, bratty cacophonous whimpers spew out of your lips as you cling onto the milky, pale sheets. it’s probably been hours, the entire room has a candied aroma of pure desire and intimacy. toji groans as your cunt clamps against him tightly. two scarred hands of grab ahold of your waist before pressing it deeper against him. “mhm, ‘s it workin’ baby? needed a good fuck, baby?”

“y- yes,” you moan, strands of hair almost blinding your eyesight by how it continues to get in your face from the quick paced movement. skin against skin—skin tight. everything felt heavenly. toji’s husky pitched groans only makes you throb even more before he leans right up closer against your ass. “harder, fuck me, ‘toji. pleaseplease. make me cum.”

with his own heavy huffs of breath escaping, he gets all the way up close before raising a foot to press down against your head.

a shrieking gasp comes out of you at the angle. he’s buried so deep now that your pussy stings and smacks from his sack. his hefty sack that hangs. kissing his teeth, toji rolls his eyes back from how good you squeeze around him before groaning once more. “goddamn, y’er a little slut. wakin’ me up for dick, ‘oughta edge the shit out of ya,” and he grabs a nice amount of your hair, making you raise up. the soft, delicate wool of his sock still glides against your skin and you moan from his rude, overzealous tempo. “yeah? should the baby girl cum, or nah. personally, i‘d say no. you were bein’ a brat. 'love curse' my ass.”

you try to sit up but he only pushes you back down, your face smushed against your fluffed out pillow.

“nuh uh, sit the fuck back down,” he snarls, swatting a soft palm against your ass. you’re so close—you moan again as he deepens his hits. his rhythm that was once so decent was now sloppy and merciless. toji’s fat mushroom tip thwacks and thwacks against your clit so much that you could feel it’s delicious curve. it’s a tickling sensation if anything—but the last thing you were doing was laughing. as he tightens his grip a bit, resuming to rock his hips into you, he purrs against your ear in a throaty chuckle. “heh, oh so you can’t speak now? thought ya wanted me to go harder?”

“i- i do,” you try to explain, but it only forms into a sweet meaningless babble. “fuuuuck, ‘s good but take your foot off me, toji. your sock is um.. wet.”

“your sock is um wet,” he mocks you before lowering his foot. you cringe as he pitches his voice—you don’t even sound like that. as he’s still having you arched over, watching as you then hide your face into the crook of your elbow. with a final smack against your ass, he pulls out before letting off an offended, tch. “ungrateful ass.”

☆ GETO SUGURU

“rough day?” geto slyly smiles, watching you struggle to walk into his room. he locks his phone to get a good look at you. you’re heaving insane amounts of breaths, pant after pant squeezing out of your full lungs as if you’d just got down with a marathon. “aw, let me guess. that love curse again? baby, you really gotta stop gettin’ yourself in these positions. it’s silly.”

“suguru,” you whine, collapsing right into his lap. the way you flop onto him was so cute—you’re met with a smug grin and dark, inky eyes that’s taking in all of your features. always so pretty. he smells so good, it’s driving you crazy. “wanna ride you.”

“you always ride me,” he strokes your chin, staring into your eyes lovingly. his hair was pinned into a unkempt yet attractive ponytail. geto gingerly wraps a hand around your throat before whispering against your lips. “so it is that lust curse again, isn’t it? careful. startin’ to think you’re doing this on purpose just to ride me, pretty girl.”

it works every time though—because within minutes later, you’re riding geto on the plump sofa. he was trying to multitask, trying to send an important email but your hips always snapped him back to reality. eventually, his phone slips out of his hand. geto groans at the way your rhythm’s got him in such a chokehold. you’re unhinged, playing with your tits right in front of him that he can’t help but feel against your soft mounds himself.

“s-shit,” he hisses, your body forever an image embedded in his mind that he couldn’t erase. your pussy squelches against his cock and you feel him reach such deep angles all at once. his girth was enough to make your mouth salivate with slippery saliva. mouthwatering, the upward curve of geto’s dick has you going stupid, you’re whining constantly before you lightly shove him back against the cushioned furniture. “slow down, you’re gonna make me c-cum quick, baby, goddamn.”

perhaps your hips alone were the enemy all along, you’re barely giving him a chance to breathe and it turns him onever more. how feral you were—he could see how blown and needy your pupils were. as you wrap your arms around him, still jerking your hips forward, you pull him into a deep, passionate kiss. geto groans right into your mouth, it’s guttural. playfully, you twirl a finger around his hair as you’re fucking him. geto’s hand placement was against your hips, long pretty lashes fluttering every few seconds before he gasps. “baby,” he huffs, a slippery strand of spit leaving your lips as he tugs away. with half-lidded eyes and a flushed face, he moans again, yet this time it’s louder, a bit more pitchy. “i’m gonna c- cum, shit your hips is gonna kill me.“

“don’t waste it p- please,” you plead into his ear, the soft breaths of your voice that exit from your throat makes his dick twitch inside you. you’re still grinding against him, the tempo was so speedy that it gives geto whiplash. he was truly witnessing his life flash before his eyes—all thanks to your precious pussy, featuring your crazed hips. he hardly doesn’t know where to roam his hands—but they remain glued to your waist, attempting to guide you closer. “inside, sugu. spill it ‘n me, make a mess.”

groaning—his head tosses itself back in rapture as he falls into his lewd, anticipated embrace. he’s feeling hot and warm just like you. the warmth your pussy provided him makes him bite his lip.

“fuck, fuck, f-fuuuuck,” he swears once you suddenly pick your hips back up. after a few seconds once you gradually slow down—he’s shooting a warm load of cum into you. so gooey, it fills you to the brim and you slow down finally, still swaying against him to make sure it’s fully plugged full. it pours into you all at once, a whopping amount of seed that’s so much that it oozes between the crevices of your thighs. you rode geto so good that he doesn’t even notice the sofa had ended up collapsing. the sound was short and concise—he’s moaning once you wrap a hand around his throat, feeling the vibrations of his grunts go against your fingertips. “phew,” he swallows, still dumping a good amount of ropy amounts inside before he goes limp against the couch. geto still has your hips in place before he’s gasping for short collected breaths. with glossy eyes, he notices your needy smug grin, not showing one ounce of fatigue. “again, huh? fuck, let me catch my breath first baby, you’re fuckin’ dangerous.”