#ADAMANTLY REFUSES TO BREAK

[bibleofficial]

amazon is off their shit w the way they put ads in everything i HATE how the new ‘premium model’ is just … without ads. like buy an amazon fire tv & have ads built into ur television. a billboard in ur living room

[coockie8]

think havoc ever pauses fucking roy so he can smoke a cigarette?

Literally all the time and Roy gets unfathomably bitchy about it lmao

[iamthescalesofjustice]

okay so. outside of video game conditions the party would sometimes split. and the thing is. well. the thing is that kio in particular. would end up in a 36-hour vivisection seminar during which there was genuine emotional and intellectual engagement between them and the undead surgeons and they were proud as someone more experienced in this art to help the nurses learn and they would be actually pretty upset when they accidentally tripped the malus suicide condition and then he stayed dead. like it would take them a while to realize he was staying dead. and then they would worry he was doing it on purpose. and then they would stumble back to camp and not tell anyone why they were upset. and then when the party later investigated the house of healing and malus was still dead kio would cry and pretend it was from normal emotional problems and stress instead of. whatever this is.

[seraphicsentences]

you told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.

closeted/in denial abby anderson x reader

pt.2 here: all mine

tags: internalized homophobia, smut, cheating, tw:owen, fingering (aa!receiving), lowkey sub!aa

A/N: we do not condone cheating here! unless it’s on owen fuck that asshole. sorry i disappeared for 100 years!! hope this is half-decent enough to make up for it. working on reqs i promise!!!! i love you all my sweet angels <333

please click me!!!

it was undeniable— the tension, between you and abby anderson. your queer sexuality was common knowledge amongst the WLF base, and your reputation as a womanizer quite contributory to the hot topic. on the complete opposite of the spectrum stood abby: top soldier, with the highest leading score in kills, and most importantly, dutiful girlfriend to owen moore.

where she stood on the line of homosexuality was made evidently clear. from the way she scoffed under her breath at the sight of your marked-up one night stands, to her weekly mornings at the base’s sunday service, you had found an almost masochistic pleasure in ticking her off to your best efforts.

you would catch yourself throwing offhand comments towards your latest hookups when she was in ears range. “my dick’s better than any man’s, isn’t that right, baby?”

in the mere corner of your peripheral vision you would see abby’s jaw tighten, gaze hard as she refused to look your way— her own sort of defiance to your antics. a haughty smirk threatened to break across your face. you couldn’t exactly place your finger on as to why you were so enamored with her understated reactions, rather than focused on the pretty, blushing girl in front of you. it became a thrill you craved insatiably, and built up as a wall between you two over the years, bound to come tumbling sooner or later.

~

mid-summer now, the longer days and better hunt called for a compulsory celebration. wlf’s central lounge was buzzing with drunken chatter and alight with the golden hue of mini lamp lights.

your childish bickering with abby hadn’t lessened up any bit, and to much of your delight, had begun to stir up more volatile reactions of hers as they’ve persisted.

you sat across her now, separated by only a couple foot’s distance and a beer bottle, which lay empty and flat on its side.

“spin the bottle? what are we, twelve?” abby scoffed at the idea.

she sat crisscrossed, forearms resting atop her legs, muscles straining against her tight grey shirt, and you couldn’t help but wonder how she, the very picture of masc, was so adamantly straight.

“aw, scared, anderson?” you grinned devilishly.

she physically recoiled, as if the very thought of being intimidated by someone like you burned her mind. haughty self satisfaction coursed through your veins, sick pleasure in knowing you could get under her skin so easily. running your eyes salaciously down her figure, you watched as she shifted nervously. cute.

“es solo un juego, abby,” manny says, shrugging.

“whatever,” she replies, “just get on with it.”

as the rounds go by, you can’t help but take note of the way abby awkwardly averts her gaze from whichever two lucky partakers kiss, no matter the duo. scoffing, she teasingly mouths ‘pendejo’ after manny stupidly grins into his third kiss of the night. you watch her smile disappear in a brief second when the your turn arises.

eye contact unwavering, you stare down abby as the bottle whirls around, waiting for it to select its next target. you can’t quite understand why your heart feels like it’s racing out of your chest the closer the bottlehead gets to nodding the blonde’s direction.

it inches closer. slower now.

a person away— and it stops.

…on the pretty girl next to abby.

abby releases a harsh breath you didn’t realize she was holding, chest rising slowly as she catches some air. you blink.

you cross the short distance between the two of you crawling, abby eyeing you down, before swerving your course of action in the last moment to land yourself in front of the girl next to her. without a moment’s hesitation you tug her in for a kiss, or no, multiple kisses as you tongue the girl down hungrily. she groans into it with a matched eagerness, desperate to get a dose of your infamous mouth.

your eyes flicker open between kisses, expecting to get an eyeful of the top of the blonde’s head, but you’re met with quite the opposite. the piercing stare of none other than abby anderson sends a chill down your spine. her breath hitches— she looks like she’s been fucking caught. and as tempting as the girl in front of you is, you can’t tear your gaze away from her.

you begin to dominate what is now a full-blown makeout session, eyes darkened, breaths unsteady, hands pulling. she just watches, bound to the floor. you watch her watch. and you want her to want it.

you pull away with a final tug on the girl’s bottom lip, feeding off the way abby’s eyes follow the action. someone wolf-whistles in the background, but, even flustered now, you can’t shake the undeniable tension between yourself and abby.

the rhythmic thumping of blood rushing through your skull acted rather as a barrier between your awareness and the continuing rounds. thankfully, you were left as a mere onlooker, free of any further unwanted attention.

abby had gone back to staring at her lap, you discovered, watching intently as she picked a stray hair off her jeans.

“hey anderson,” you called over, her reaction immediate— head jolting up.

her eyes relaxed to a glare once she realized you were the one addressing her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“i think it’s ‘bout your turn, yeah?”

“you fu-“

“solo un juego, abby,” manny cuts in.

with a huff, abby begrudgingly leans over to give the bottle a spin, tapping her fingers against the floor in anticipation.

the bottle stops. so does your heart, for just a second.

you look up. abby looks to owen. the fucking son of a bitch lends no help, smirking, excited that his perverted fantasies have come to life before his eyes.

“c’mon then,” you nod at her, leaning back on your wrists, almost in invitation.

she moves slowly, braid dangling by her shoulder as she scooches towards you, hands coming to a stop on the floor in front of you.

closer now, you can feel the heat radiating off her large figure onto your own, the light brush of her breaths intermingling with your own. yet— she makes no move to get any closer.

you loop a finger around her neckline and drag her in, teeth clashing from the aggression, noses bumping; it’s no fairytale kiss. but then your tongue licks into her open mouth, perhaps merely by muscle memory, or maybe because you secretly want a taste of more, and she fucking whimpers. so quiet, strangled, from the back of her throat, but you hear it nonetheless, and god, you feel it.

the switch up is almost immediate: abby pulling away faster than you can blink, back in her original spot before you know it, wiping at her mouth. but she was too late. you knew what she craved, and you were going to make sure she’d have to beg for it.

~

the party was in full swing now, majority of the room drunk off of wlf’s own brew, which meant everyone was completely fucked up.

you stumbled over to the serving area, leaning haphazardly over the bar to scan the room without falling over. your eyes caught onto a familiar blonde, seated quietly with a group composed of what you assumed to be her usual patrol friends. she’s seated next to owen, the fucker, who has his arm lazily swung around the skank sprawled on the other side of him. your eyes are glued to the visible scrunch between abby’s eyebrows, fingers itching to reach out and press it away.

“who’s the lucky girl you’re sinking your claws into tonight?”

your head swivels towards the voice, met with a concerned look from alex, wlf’s residential mixologist.

“…you good, babe?”

“fuck— yeah, just got a lit, a little dizzy for sec. the answer to, uh- to, your question is no one,” you hiccuped, grinning up at alex as you rested your head against the cold counter.

“uh-huh, sure. i’ll let you have your secrets. i won’t pry,” she quips.

you laugh, miming an imaginary lock over your lips before tossing the ‘key’ away. “what can i say? i’m a gentleman, alex, no, gentlewoman. i don’t kiss and te-“

you’re cut off by another voice approaching the counter, low and slurring, asking for a glass of straight whiskey.

you roll your head over, faced with the towering frame of none other than abby anderson. she’s closer than you expected her to be, causing you to stumble back a step, and then laugh at yourself, muttering under your breath, straight whiskey for the straight girl.

“i think you’ve had well enough, anderson. even with all the muscle on you, man, i don’t know how you got this hammered. i’ll get you some water, honey,” alex jokes.

abby sulks, spacing out as she begrudgingly sips on her water. you doubt she even notices your presence, using the accidental peace as time to really take in her side profile. she’s stunning, in her own, amazonian sort of way. especially now in the hazy golden light of the lounge, the sweaty blonde strands framing her face made her appear in rather close resemblance to a goddess of some type. and all you wanted was to worship her in that manner, treat her body as your temple and such. perhaps the alcohol really was getting to you.

“what’s got you all pouty, anderson? your little boyfriend not doing you any good?”

it’s so comical, the effect your presence has on abby. her head jerks your way at the first breath of your words, and her pinning gaze blows away any of the fog clouding either of your minds.

her demeanor hardens instantly, as she crosses her arms defensively. “fuck off,” is all she manages to spit out.

you take it as an invitation to continue. “like,” you scoff, “there’s no way he knows how to hit all the right spots. does he even try to? how’s his head game, abs?”

her look away speaks volumes.

“oh? god, what a dick.”

“he-“ she tries.

“-i could show you a good time,” you ramble, “i can assure you that i know how to hit all the right spots. your spots— i mean, only if you want me to.”

she gawks at you, her look half full of disbelief and half full of curiosity. and you can tell that you’ve got her hooked.

“i don’t need you,” she mutters, but a glance at her thighs pressed tight together says otherwise.

you smirk, placing your hand down that just so happens to land on her mid-thigh. her muscle jolts at your contact.

tentatively dragging your fingers higher, you speak lowly, stare locked, “you sure, baby?”

the wall comes crashing.

abby’s snatching your hand off her leg in a heartbeat and dragging you into the closest bathroom, shoving you against the door and pushing her lips against yours.

your tongue is dipping into her open mouth almost immediately, desperate to pull another one of her addicting whimpers out.

“shit,” abby curses in between gasps, before leaning back in to just consume more of you. her hands are searching for any part of you she can reach, grabbing at the meat at your hips, thighs, pressing your waist against hers with a groan.

the feel of your body against her own is so different from owens’, but so satisfying in a way she can’t wrap her head around. you fit into her frame like a puzzle piece, and your touches are needy and selfish, but they don’t feel offensive in the way that owen’s do.

you venture a hand under her shirt, tracing along the ridges of her toned stomach, and abby shudders, breaking your kiss to look down at your moving hand. she’s panting against your neck, heavier now, as you slide your hand up under her bra to cup her chest softly, rolling her hardened nipple between your fingers and watching hypnotically as she gasps into your skin.

with her head down at this angle, her neck is perfectly bared, and you can’t deny yourself a taste, can you? you’re sinking your teeth in before you realize it, soothing the marks with a wet lick over, only to tug the skin in between your teeth to suck at.

the quiet noises abby’s trying to muffle against your shoulder now are sending you into a frenzy, your hands now abandoning her breasts to pull her hips closer against yours.

abby nearly cries at the loss of your direct touches, but stops when your fingers return a place far more rewarding. you’ve unbuttoned her jeans now, your hand cupping her over her boxers teasingly, digits pressing over the damp spot in the fabric.

“bet you’ve never been this wet for owen,” you laugh, running a finger over her soaked core.

“don’t bring him up right now,” she pants in return, hips keening to your touch as she grabs your face to press into a sloppy kiss.

you push her boxers down eagerly, teasing two fingers by her leaking entrance to gather her slick.

god, abby gasps, and it seems to be the winning word of the night when she repeats it as she watches you stuff those same two fingers into your own mouth, and again when you stuff them straight into her pussy.

her pretty eyes are rolling back into her skull farther with every thrust against her gummy walls. “look at me while i fuck you dumb on my fingers, abs, look at me,” you beg.

“i c-can’t,” she whines, blushing a deep red and burrowing her face into your shoulder.

you slow your pumps, using your free hand to grab her by the braid and force her look at you. “awh,” you coo, pouting mockingly at her gaped mouth, “cute.”

your fingers buried as deep into her as physically possible, you curl them to hit that sensitive spot you genuinely believe has never even been touched once. and with the way abby lets out her loudest moan yet, you cannot believe otherwise.

“there it is,” you murmur, massaging your fingertips agonizingly slow inside of her, “see what you’re missing out on?”

her only response is a strangled whimper. baby blue eyes big and pleading as they threaten to roll back with every slight movement.

mhm, you goad her on, “that’s your g-spot, baby, feels real good, huh?”

she nods her head vigorously, quiet mhmmhmhm’s trailing out from her bitten lips.

“now if your little boyfriend’s dick is too small to reach it, i guess he can’t help it,” you laugh. “shame, you make such pretty noises when i touch you here,” you let out an exaggerated sigh, picking up your pace abruptly to slam into her spot over and over.

abby’s nearly gone cross-eyed, tossing her head back now as her pussy throbs almost rhythmically with every thrust. she’s never felt so filled to the brim, so overwhelmed with pleasure, and she’s too blissed out to even care about the stupid fucking smirk you’ve got plastered on your face.

“but his mini- dick is no excuse for not touching you here,” you continue, letting loose of her hair to finally touch her poor, neglected, pink clit, rubbing circles harshly into the button.

abby’s heart nearly jumps out of her chest. she’s moaning nonstop and swearing like a fucking sailor, the combination of your actions almost too much for her to physically bear. after a particularly loud oh god, fuck-please, you have no choice but to stuff abby’s mouth full with the bottom of her shirt. and fuck, was that the right move; the way her ab muscles flex and tighten as she nears her release, glistening with sweat, is enough to make you let out a groan of your own.

“‘m- close,” abby cries around the fabric, hips rocking with your motions as she begins to ride out her high.

“there you go anderson, you got it,” you mutter, circling her swollen clit faster now as you fuck into her g-spot repeatedly.

mmmmph is all you can make out, as abby’s walls clamp down around your curled fingers and she digs her nails into your sides, eyes squeezing shut.

her jerking movements eventually slow along with your own, half lidded eyes staring as you slip your cum-coated fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean. the moistened fabric falls from abby’s open jaw as she attempts to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

before you know it, she’s tugging up her soaked boxers and jeans, shoving past you as she buttons them up and promptly bolts out of that bathroom.

well, that was one way to deal with the tension.

she’ll come running back to you before she knows it.

yikes! i just read that over and yikes! lol uh! sorry guys i’m out of practice!! we love abby anderson though and pray that she gets over her internalized homophobia. she’s too sexy for allat.

send me more reqs!! not that i need any more but send ‘em!

[pucksandpower]

A Crime Against Fashion

Charles Leclerc x fashion designer!Reader

Summary: you love Charles more than life itself, but everyone has a breaking point … and yours is those damn pants

You stride into the spacious open-concept living room of the luxury apartment you share with your boyfriend, tossing your leather tote onto the couch with a huff. Another long day of design meetings and fittings for your upcoming spring collection has left you completely drained.

But your frustration isn’t just from work stress this time. No, it’s those blasted pants again.

As if on cue, Charles emerges from the bedroom wearing the dreaded blue and white tie-dye atrocities that have been your nemesis for weeks now. You can’t hold back a small groan of exasperation.

“What’s wrong, mon cœur?” Charles asks with his trademark lopsided smile, those warm emerald-colored eyes crinkling at the corners.

You gesture helplessly at the offending garment. “Charles … those pants. They’re just … how can I put this delicately? A crime against fashion.”

He glances down at the loose-fitting psychedelic nightmares, seemingly oblivious to their ugliness. “What do you mean? I think they’re kind of funky.”

“Funky?” You echo incredulously. “That’s one word for them, I suppose. Hideously unstylish is another.”

Charles pouts, sticking out his full lower lip in that irresistible way he knows gets you flustered. “But chérie, I really like them. They’re so comfy and casual.”

You shake your head adamantly, trying not to get distracted by how criminally attractive he looks even in those ridiculous pants. “No, nope. As your girlfriend and a designer, I simply cannot allow you to go out in public wearing those any longer. It’s a matter of principle!”

He raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? And just what do you plan to do about it, hmm?”

A mischievous grin tugs at the corners of your mouth. “Well, I do have a few ideas …” You lunge toward him playfully.

With a yelp of surprise, Charles dodges out of the way, those long legs carrying him across the living room as you give chase. You laugh breathlessly, finally managing to catch him and wrap your arms around his slender waist from behind.

“Quit running away from me, Leclerc!” You tease, nuzzling against the back of his neck. “You know this is for your own good.”

Charles twists around in your arms until you’re face to face. His expression is one of feigned indignation but you can see his warm green eyes are dancing with amusement. “I will not be bullied about my clothing choices by you, Y/N Y/L/N! These pants are staying and that’s final!”

You answer by promptly planting a line of teasing kisses along the sharp line of his jaw, making him shiver. “Is that so? We’ll see about that, pretty boy.”

That evening, you make a point to avoid looking at or even acknowledging the offensive pants for the rest of the night. At one point, Charles good-naturedly tries to get a rise out of you by draping the tie-dyed nightmares over the back of the couch right in your line of sight. But you simply turn your nose up with an overdramatic harrumph, refusing to take the bait.

“Very mature,” Charles chuckles from beside you on the couch, his knee brushing against yours in that casual yet intimate way.

You shoot him a pointed look from the corner of your eye. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m simply refusing to lend any credibility to those … those …” You wave a hand vaguely in the direction of the pants hanging over the couch.

“You mean my pants?” Charles supplies helpfully, that infuriatingly charming grin stretching across his full lips.

“Ugh, don’t even call them that! Actual pants deserve more respect.” You lean your head against the back of the couch in exasperation.

Charles scoots closer until his side is flush against yours. He cups your jaw in one of those large, calloused racing hands and gently turns your face until you’re meeting his molten gaze. “You’re just jealous that I look better in them than you ever could, mon amour.”

His teasing words further ignite the spark of competitive spirit smoldering in your chest. With a surge of determination, you press a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Challenge accepted, Leclerc.”

Two nights later, as Charles arrives back at the apartment after a grueling day of training, he immediately notices that something is … off.

He pads through the living room toward the bedroom, brow furrowed in confusion at the odd scattering of fabric scraps and loose threads on the floor. Your sewing machine is set up on the dining table, various rattles and clanks echoing from the bedroom.

“Y/N?” He calls out hesitantly. “Everything okay in there?”

You poke your head out from around the bedroom doorway, cheeks flushed and hair slightly askew. But your eyes are bright with mischief. “Charles! You’re home, perfect. Come in here for a second?”

With a shrug, he follows you into the bedroom. Only to stop dead in his tracks, jaw dropping almost comically. There on the floor in a tattered, unrecognizable heap of fabric are … his beloved tie-dye pants. The ones you had so vehemently loathed.

“Y/N, what … how … why …” he splutters, seemingly at a loss for words as he crouches down and gingerly runs a finger over the ragged remnants.

Resting your hands on your hips, you try not to look too triumphant. “What can I say? The cat got to them.”

Charles’ brows knit together in confusion. “We don’t have a cat, mon ange.”

Oops. Think fast.

“Well, uh, I was actually cat-sitting for Max today! You know how crazy Jimmy and Sassy can be. Those little balls of fluff must have gotten a hold of your pants and just went to town on them.”

You shrug innocently, the very picture of wide-eyed virtue. “Who can blame them, really? I warned you those pants were a crime against nature itself.”

For a long beat, Charles simply stares at the remains of his pants, then at you, eyes narrowed. You can practically see the realization dawning on his stupidly handsome face. Before he can call you out, you pivot on your heel.

“Anyway!” You clear your throat. “Since those pants were so adamantly beloved by you, I decided to give the fabric a little … redesign. Just to prove my point.” You turn back toward him, dropping the robe you had wrapped around yourself, to reveal your new creation. “What do you think?”

Charles’ breath seems to catch in his throat as you reveal the vibrant blue and white tie-dye fabric, repurposed into a sleek mini-skirt that hugs your curves in all the right ways. You punctuate the look by posing with one hand on your cocked hip, letting the skirt’s flirty hem swish teasingly.

“Well?” You raise an eyebrow challengingly, unable to keep the triumphant smirk from tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I believe you said something about looking better in those pants than me?”

To Charles’ credit, he recovers his powers of speech relatively quickly, running one hand through those tousled chestnut curls. “Y/N, you … you look …” He seems to struggle to find the words, green eyes raking over your figure appreciatively. "Incroyable. Magnifique."

You feel your cheeks warming at his praise, suddenly grateful for your impromptu redesign. “So I’ll take that as a point proven then?” You prod teasingly.

Charles finally tears his heated gaze from your body to meet your eyes, crossing the room in a few long strides until he’s crowding into your personal space. You catch your breath as his calloused hands settle on the curve of your waist, fingers brushing tantalizingly over the tie-dye fabric.

“More than proven, mon amour,” he rumbles in that low, gravelly tone that never fails to make your pulse kick up a notch. “I stand corrected — this fabric was absolutely meant for you and you alone.”

Before you can react with more than a breathless giggle, he dips his head to capture your lips in a searing kiss that leaves you dizzy and melting against the hard planes of his chest.

As you slowly break away trying to catch your breath, a wicked grin curves your lips. Placing your palms flat against Charles’ chest, you lean back just enough to meet his lidded, lust-blown gaze.

“You know …” you murmur, trailing a fingertip down the taut line of his throat and relishing the way his eyes darken further. “Now that I’ve refashioned those pants into this skirt, I believe that means they’re officially off-limits for you to wear. Unless …”

You bite your lower lip coyly, letting the implication hang in the air. Charles cocks an eyebrow, a rakish smirk of his own playing about those full lips as he catches your meaning.

“Unless what, ma belle?” His voice is thick with undisguised longing as he pulls you flush against him once more.

Stretching up on your tiptoes, you brush a feather-light kiss to that sharp, stubbly jawline. “Unless you’d fancy giving this skirt a spin for me sometime, Mr. Leclerc,” you practically purr into the heated space between your bodies. “Because I can absolutely get behind that look on you.”

Charles throws back his head with a rich peal of laughter, the sound reverberating through you. As his hands roam possessively over the tie-dye fabric now molded to your curves, you decide you’ll have to put in a request to see that particular fashion show very soon.

[hexhomos]

I disagree with the take that Jayce saved Viktor without any care for his interiority or to stroke his own ego. The thing you have to keep in mind is that literal hours before the rocket burst through the window, Jayce caught Viktor attempting suicide.

This after days of intense fighting to find a way to keep himself alive, by the by. This after years of being the person that adamantly refuses to take the shitty aspects of the world as they are. This, even though the Viktor he knew best and the Viktor we are introduced to is the one who will break the law for the greater good, who will refuse to let YOU give up because it's better to be punished than dead.

That Viktor, trying to kill himself? It's so jarring. It's so immensely out of character. Viktor wouldn't want to die before they ever know if their plea for Zaun's independence went through. Viktor DIDN'T WANT to die for all of last month, he was putting in an extra 11 hours of research every day to make sure of it. That Viktor told him this:

Something is wrong.

Viktor’s self-hatred and the way he tells Jayce he should've died still carries that direct connection with suicidal intent. Viktor is not in his right mind. He wouldn't want to die like this and Jayce knows not to judge a person by how much they may momentarily want to throw themselves off a balcony. The hexcore is a danger, yes, but Jayce has no idea about any of that. He just knows that his best friend is completely spiralling and that he definitely needs help lol

[honeytae]

“you refuse to meet his gaze, afraid that your carefully constructed facade will crumble if you do. and it seems like that's exactly what is happening - the walls you've built around yourself are slowly falling apart.”

genre: angst, fluff, comfort

warnings: reader is overworked af and petrified of showing vulnerability, brief argument between reader and jk but only bc he cares, so many tears..like a LOT of crying, descriptions of kissing, make out sesh💋, an unforgivable amount of fluff and L bombs, i really didn’t know what to call this one so it’s just riptide, sorry not sorry you guys

wc: 2k

the air in the apartment is mostly silent, save for the gentle scratch of lead on paper and the muted pattering of rain against the windows in your home office.

jungkook’s teeth play with his bottom lip as he fidgets in his seat, intently observing you from the opposite end of the table.

across from him, your brows knit together in an attempt to focus, lips pursed in concentration as you stop for a moment, then resume moving your pencil across the page.

he cringes at the disruption of his phone vibrating on the table, abruptly snapping you out of your daze.

as your pencil slips out of your grasp, you sit up straight and flex your fingers around in the air to release some of the tension residing in your joints.

jungkook murmurs an apology but you brush it off, glancing wearily at him and providing a small smile. a sigh of relief escapes you as he leans in, taking your hand in his and gently massaging your tired fingers with a few strokes of his own.

“that feels good,” you mumble, shifting closer to the table for more of his touch.

he hums softly, taking another few moments to work his fingers into your skin, creating a small pocket of silence.

"are you bored?" you ask, feeling a twinge of guilt for leaving him essentially alone at the table. "i'm sorry, baby, i'll be finished in just a few more minutes."

jungkook shrugs in response, casual as he moves his arm to gently rub up and down your own. his touch is comforting and helps ease your anxiety, preventing you from spiraling further.

“it's okay,” he reassures you with a gentle smile, “just take your time. i'll be here.”

his eyes shift from your face to your hand, a frown forming as he notices the red mark on your finger, evidence of how tightly you've been holding your pencil.

you watch, endeared, as he leans down to kiss the spot, then replaces his lips with his finger, gently rubbing over the indentation to soothe the redness.

"you work so hard," he says, tutting his tongue as he continues running his thumb over the spot.

you can only manage a sigh in response, feeling drained and unable to speak. plus, tears are starting to form in your eyes, and you’re desperately trying to hold them back. jungkook notices, of course he does.his expression turns into one of concern as he studies your face, trying to assess the situation.

your mouth is set in a deep frown, almost a scowl, and your eyebrows are furrowed in discomfort from holding back your true emotions. you refuse to meet his gaze, afraid that your carefully constructed facade will crumble if you do. and it seems like that's exactly what is happening - the walls you've built around yourself are slowly falling apart.

in a rush, he rises from his chair and rounds the table, your eyes following him through tears.

once next to you, his fingers weave through your hair, leading your head to rest on his stomach. he wraps his arm around you and massages the tension from your shoulders as you nestle into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, taking in the familiar scent of his laundry detergent.

“time for a break?” he muses, watching as you adamantly shake your head in response.

“i just need to finish,” you reply, trying to stifle the lump in your throat.

he watches as you draw your laptop closer while blinking rapidly to chase away any tears.

you’ve always been one to persevere, which he greatly respects. but it also irritates him that at times, you don’t allow yourself to fully feel.

jungkook suppresses a groan as he watches you type something else into your search engine, briefly tilting his head up to the ceiling in frustration and closing his eyes to take a deep breath.

it can be hard, to watch those you love push themselves beyond their limit. he understands, knowing that he often puts you through the same thing.

you and him share an achilles heel of refusing to give up easily, which is both a blessing and a curse.

the sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard snaps him out of his trance and he reopens his eyes, sneaking another glance over your shoulder.

he’s about to drop it altogether when he sees your bottom lip quiver, his breath hitching in his throat when the first tear makes it over your lash line.

“baby,” he utters softly, nearly tripping over the leg of the chair he pulls out from the table to sit beside you.

you can’t help but let out a throaty chuckle at his clumsiness, swiping the single tear from your cheek and trying to wave him off.

“i’m okay,” you sniffle, but jungkook just shakes his head in disbelief. he leans forward, balancing on his knees as he takes your fidgeting hands in his own, running his fingers gently along your knuckles.

“seriously, jungkook, i’m fine. stop making it bigger than it is,” you attempt to push him away, but he refuses to budge.

“stop making it smaller than it is!” he counters, voice raising slightly as his anger takes over.

he takes a breath, continuing in a softer voice.“baby, i’m not gonna stop until you let me in.”

his brows furrow in frustration, wide eyes pleading with you.

in the heat of the moment, you hate how intrusive he’s being. you hate that he sees you as his responsibility and that your struggles are ruining his day.

“jungkook, if i’m just a burden-“

“a burden?” he interrupts in disbelief, “you could never be a burden,” he reaches for your hand when you try to get up. “hey, all i ever want to do is help you, because i love you,” he stresses.

his words instantly calm your mounting emotions, preventing you from any more self sabotage.

“i love you,” he says again, “and i cannot sit here and watch you ruin yourself.”

you simply blink at him, the last of your resolve shattering when he starts to soothingly caress your arm with his warm palm.

even when you’re so difficult, he’s so unbelievably kind to you.

“please let yourself not be okay,” he begs, eyebrows pulling together, pained, as he watches you stifle a sob. “it’s so hard to watch you be so strong all the time,” he says, “please don’t shut me out.”

and just like that, your wall comes tumbling down.

jungkook’s emotions bubbling to the surface seem to be the final push for you to tip over the edge. tears now stream down your face, features crumbling as you weakly lift yourself from your chair.

jungkook’s arms reach out to pull you into him, intercepting your body as you launch yourself onto his lap. his lips press repeatedly to the side of your head as he wraps his arms around your stuttering back, squeezing you to him.

“let go, baby,” he says, feeling tears well up in his own eyes as you collapse in his arms, “just let go.”

broken sobs wrack your frame as you cling onto him, one of his hands securely holding the back of your head while the other runs up and down your spine.

the dam has finally broken, and its cathartic for both of you.

soothing words are spoken softly into your ear as your breaths begin to even out, your face finding solace in the crook of his neck.

after a few minutes, your cries quiet and the pool of tears starts to dry on his skin.

jungkook leans back to glance over your face, reaching up to swipe at the leftover tear trails on your cheeks with his thumb.

“feel a little lighter in here?” he inquires, dancing his fingers over your scalp as you lift your reddened eyes to lock with his.

“a little,” you sniff, leaning into his touch as he starts massaging the crown of your head.

“hm, good,” he murmurs, “we’re making progress then.”

wordlessly, you stare into his big brown irises, the whites of his eyes showing evidence of his own tears. despite this, his mouth quirks in a small smile, and the guilt from ten minutes ago consumes you.

“fuck, i’m so sorry,” your frown deepens, closing your eyes when his lips press to your temple, remaining against your heated skin. “i’m so sorry for lashing out at you, i’m just,” you sigh, “i’m just overwhelmed and,” you glance up in thought, “in my own head.”

“i understand, baby,” he soothes, warm eyes finding yours to show he’s being genuine. “it’s all gonna work out, i promise.”

you inhale and sit up straighter, cupping his cheeks as you position your face in front of his. you stare at each other for a moment before he cups your jaw, adoringly squishing your cheeks with his fingers.

jungkook laughs as you pucker your lips, sliding his hands down to rest under your jaw when you tilt your head to the side, pressing your mouth to his.

with each pass of his lips over yours, you feel the ache in your head lessen. your heart reaches out for him and squeezes him closer to you.

he hums as you pull back and immediately go in for more, taking turns capturing your bottom and top lip between his. you grip on tighter to him to momentarily stop the world from spinning around you.

breaking apart for air, jungkook giggles as you unattractively sniff with your full nose, your fingers absentmindedly playing with his hair.

“sexy, huh?” you raise a brow, and jungkook’s features warm when the sparkle returns to your eye.

“duh,” he rolls his eyes, and there’s a beat of comfortable silence as you both recover from your breakdown.

“i love you so much,” you murmur, “thank you for everything you do.”

“yah, kiss-ass,” he teases, his high-pitched laugh escaping his mouth when you pinch his side as punishment for his snark.

“ugh, nevermind,” you sigh as you stand up, and he smiles at you in return, holding onto your hand to help you back over into your chair.

“i love you more,” he sings, chortling as you squint your eyes at him in response.

you redirect your gaze back to your notebook, still looking tired but not as weary as you did before.

jungkook lifts himself to reassume his position from earlier and stands behind you, dropping his arms around your neck. you tilt your neck as he plants a kiss onto the top of your head.

sensing your reluctance to go back to work, he leans down further, his cheek pressing against yours. the gesture seems to melt you back into your chair as the both of you stare ahead at your laptop screen.

“okay,” he starts, understanding your process, “how about some tea to get you through this last part?”

he waits patiently as you think it over. his eyes travel from the screen to your features, staring at your lashes touching your cheek each time you blink.

there’s a hint of water clinging to your bottom lashes, and the sight makes his heart squeeze in his chest.

“yeah, actually,” you answer softly, gently craning your neck so that you can press your lips to his, kissing him one, two, three, four times.

“you’re the best boyfriend ever,” you whisper against his lips, some of the tension in your body already subsiding.

his cheeks go pink with your praise, dark eyes catching the dining room light as he puffs air out of his nostrils.

wordlessly, you let your head hang off the back of the chair, closing your eyes when jungkook’s hand comes to support the back of your head, dipping down to kiss you again.

his fingers rub soothing circles into your neck, causing an involuntary noise to rise up from your throat.

you break apart with a “tch,” noise, pouting when he pulls his arms from around you.

“nooo,” you try to grip onto his fingers, jungkook chuckling as he pokes your bottom lip back into place.

meeting your lips one last time, it takes everything in him to step away from you, pointing at your dimmed laptop screen.

“i’ll be right back,” he soothes, “and i promise i’ll sit here with you the whole time.”

you smile despite yourself, because jungkook is simply the light of your life.

“you better. you’re my emotional support human.”

[luvtak]

when you know, you know ✭ yji

✭ genre/tw sugary sweet fluff, est. relationship, innie being very sweet, innie and reader being so in love its sick, ‘tiny’ used as a petname, like one swear word ? mostly unedited

✭ w/c 1005

✭ a/n i wrote this in about 5 hours so it could be so bad, who knows :// also, i was listening to the most sickeningly soft love songs so this is where all my devastation went… i hope you love it!! (divider from @cafekitsune !!)

There's something about the morning air that makes you look like an angel: Flushed cheeks and bitten-red lips, your hair still mussed from his hands. He can’t stop himself from staring at you, eyes sweeping to your form huddled in the corner of the practice room. You didn’t want to be here, adamantly refusing when he woke you up this morning, only agreeing when he told you he’d buy you ice cream for breakfast–a deal that left him exasperated until he tasted the sugary treat from your lips. He was reminded why he loved you then… it was the way the sun glinted off your cheekbones, warm light encasing you in a glow that hit him right in the heart. 

When you arrived at practice, greeting all the boys with tight hugs and uncontained grins, the lovesickness started rising up in his throat, and Jeongin did all he could not to embarrass himself in front of his hyungs. He never thought he’d be this gone, so incredibly smitten for somebody, alas the picture you form in his life is endlessly heart breaking.

“You know, in the last ten minutes Innie has looked over here probably five times…” Laughs Seugmin from his place next to you. 

“I did notice that, yes.” you respond. In truth, there hasn’t been one moment of your relationship where you haven’t noticed when Jeongin looks at you. Something about his stare being so hot against your skin that even with your eyes closed you would know he was looking. 

It makes you shy to think about Seungmin noticing your boyfriend’s devotion– your love is so often a secret, a whisper in the dark, a kiss shared with the light off. A love so intimate that it’s often masked with jokes and incessant teasing, anything to make it seem less than it is. When someone is your whole world, when you could survive just off the air in their lungs, that love is too great to be shared. 

Although, you can’t blame Seungmin for noticing. Your boyfriend has looked at you an inane amount of times in the last hour, glimpsing and glaring at you while he should be focused on the choreo. You could count on both hands how many times he’s been yelled at for messing up a step, even now during their break, with Minho berating him, he’s staring at you. 

“See! look at that! What a love drunk dummy, Minho Hyung is gonna kill him.” You can only half hear Seungmin, your eyes stuck on Jeongin’s smile, so pretty and all yours. You didn’t want to be here this morning, having plans to laze around the house in nothing but his sweater and watch stupid tv until he got home, but he begged and begged you to join him; cuddling into you and kissing all over your face until you agreed to come. The ice cream he bought you was only the icing on the cake, as sweet as all the kisses he placed on your skin. How happy you are now that you’re here, getting to see your boy smile and laugh and stare. “Oh god, there you go… you’d think you two would be over each other by now.” 

Unfortunately, the boy is left unanswered as Jeongin finds himself walking towards you, shit eating grin on full display, love in his eyes and mischief on his tongue. He’s so desirable, so undeniably handsome that it kills you to have other people around. 

“Hey loser,” your boyfriend says, “wanna go get a snack?”

“Will that snack be another ice cream cone? Cause if so count me in.” 

“Whatever you want, tiny.” he smiles, grabbing your hand to pull you off the floor and out of the room. Arms holding you tight through the hallways of the company, yet before you can go too far, he’s pulling you into an empty room and pressing his skin to yours. 

It’s not a hug really, his arms aren’t wrapped around you, but he’s so close to you. His nose is settled in your hair and his hands are so warm around your wrists, and even with your eyes closed you know his eyes are settled on you. He’s looking everywhere, from your sneakers to his sweater that wraps around you. Jeongin thinks you’re the loveliest thing he’s ever seen, and if he was braver he would’ve kissed you in the practice room. He would’ve touched you where the light hit, breathed in your air before stealing the words from your lips. If he was braver he would take the teasing from the other boys, if he was braver he would share his love with the whole world… but it’s so safe like this. 

The planet goes silent when he’s alone with you, the only thing on his mind your strawberry kisses. 

“You’re so pretty, tiny.” he whispers, his hands coming around your waist to clutch at you, holding on to you like he’ll never get the chance again. 

“You’re prettier, Innie, like a daydream.” In any other situation, your words would bring a scowl to his face, but here all alone in this empty room, he can’t help but smile. How lovesick can he be that he doesn’t find your silly confessions corny anymore? 

He can’t wait another moment without kissing you, without feeling your life bleed into his. In seconds he’s decided, and without hesitation he’s settling his rosebud lips against yours. The kiss is slow, a profession of everything he won’t let himself say out loud: He loves you, you’re perfect, you’re all he’s ever wanted. He kisses you in place of words that won’t come, his palms encasing your face so delicately, a caress that's been perfected. 

After a lifetime he pulls away, leaving you with goosebumps and shaky vision, you understood what he was saying. Heard every word he put into the kiss, felt every feeling he needed you to feel. 

He may not be able to love you in more than a whisper, but it’s the prettiest lullaby you’ve ever heard. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Insufferable to the Core

Ratchet x Reader

The children were insufferable, his growing concern for them was insufferable, but you… you brought him the most suffering of all. And the worst of it was that you didn’t even know it, because all that you did was to try and make things easier for him, doing whatever you could to hold back the children in hopes of giving him a break.

He’d openly complained about having to watch over Miko all the time or keeping his optics on Rafael to make sure he didn’t hurt himself, being as small as he was, and even Jack tended to come up with mischief, especially when Smokescreen was in the picture.

But you… You and your insufferably kind smiles and softly spoken words were meant to soothe, to calm him. You’d once said you’d never wanted to be a mother, but Ratchet found that hard to believe because acting like a mother was something you did so very well. You made Rafael feel seen and appreciated, you helped calm Miko’s explosive and wild tendencies by engaging her imagination, and you gave helpful advice to Jack, who in turn appeared to listen to you quite well.

The children adored you, and so did he.

That is what made you insufferable, because how could you ever feel the same? You were human, first and foremost, and he was an old mech with a short temper who was good for little else than patching up his team when they were hurt, and even that he didn’t see as entirely too useful, because he still hadn’t found a way to fix Bumblebee’s voice box, so what good was he?

What good was he in comparison to someone young like Smokescreen, who seemed to have taken a great liking to you, or to someone as wise and strong as Optimus, who so clearly had a soft spot for you?

And you, lovely, beautiful you… Was it pity that made you come to him? Pity that drove you to ask him how he was, how his day had been, if he’d recharged enough or gotten enough energon? Was it pity that forced you to forgive him when he’d shouted at you…

He could still remember the way your face had fallen, how your eyes had welled up with tears, and how you’d swallowed thickly as you held back your hurt. You’d smiled at him, sadly, and apologized for bothering him before you’d left to return home.

Home… You didn’t live in Jasper, you didn’t even live on the same continent, but circumstances and bad luck had made your paths cross, and though Agent Fowler had wished – wanted to force you – for you to move there, you had adamantly refused to permanently leave your home. You were steadfast like that, and he could understand your reasoning.

If Cybertron wasn’t dead, then he’d refuse to leave it too if he’d been offered a place to live on Earth. And yet… If he’d done so, then he’d never had the chance to meet you. Would he have wanted that?

“Ratchet?” your voice called, and he turned. You were smiling, beaming in fact, as you hauled a massive present in front of you. It sagged against the floor, and you huffed as you caught your breath. “Lost in thought? Busy with work as always, I assume?” you asked, smiling still as you put your hands behind your back.

You were giddy about something.

“Yes, I am busy, so mind telling me why you’ve decided to interrupt me now?” he asked and turned back to the monitors, attempting to return to work before you loudly cleared your throat. He moaned in annoyance but turned to fully face you this time. “What is it?”

“Your present!” You chirped, grinning and practically vibrating with excitement.

“Present?”

“It’s Christmas,” you said, as if that explained everything.

He’d heard the children mention it, heard you most of all as you’d brought a tree into the base; fake, of course, and you’d spent such a long time decorating it and the platform you and the children spent your time on, that Ratchet had thought you’d passed out from exhaustion once you’d finished.

No, no, you’d said. You’d only been resting atop the carpet you’d brought. Just resting, not sleeping. Yes, as if he was supposed to believe that. It had been difficult to resist a small smile at the sight of you, splayed out like that, half asleep.

“Right. Christmas. I must have forgotten,” said Ratchet, holding back the fact that he hadn’t bothered to remember it. Human traditions held little importance to him, but as you stood there, beaming like the sun, he could almost feel a small sense of wonder at what you’d brought him. It was huge in comparison to you; massive.

He took it and felt the softness against his servo. Tearing gently at the paper, he revealed something long and woolly in his colours. Pulling it out, it stretched and stretched until finally, it hung limply in the air. What—

“A scarf! I know you don’t need to wear one, and I’m not sure if you even want to, but I didn’t know what else to make that would be easy for you to wear, sooo,” your grin widened, and Ratchet’s spark gave a pleasant pulse, “a scarf! Took me eleven months to finish it. That’s the reason why I’ve been so sluggish these past months. Had to stay up rather late in order to finish it in time.”

“You…” Ratchet felt speechless, and his spark continued to pulse with warmth, making him almost dizzy from the sensation alone. “You made this… for me?” he asked, and your eager nodding forced him to look down, right at the scarf still held in his servo. He had no use of it, none whatsoever, but it was soft and pleasant, and it was made by you.

You’d spent valuable time; time that your preciously short human life didn’t have much of, on something like this? And just for him alone? You clearly didn’t have anything else with you, and you must have waited until he was alone before you approached him.

You’d wanted to be alone with him so you could give this to him…

“I… I have nothing to give in return,” he said, and he felt embarrassed and stupid for not thinking of it. You’d been so excited for Christmas; he should have thought of something for you.

“A kiss,” you said.

Ratchet almost dropped the scarf as he stumbled on nothing.

“What?!”

Your cheeks flushed red, and you looked down; shy.

By the AllSpark, you were far too precious.

“…” Ratchet glanced around. “… Come closer.”

Your face grew redder as if you hadn’t expected him to agree, but you approached and stood flush to the railing, turning your head slightly to present your cheek. However, a digit came to tilt your chin forward, and carefully, as though you were made of glass, Ratchet gave you a gentle kiss on the lips.

It made his spark tingle, and it made your heart soar.

“Merry Christmas, Ratchet,” said you, voice soft as you smiled at him.

“Merry Christmas, sweetspark,” said he, returning your smile.

Perhaps you weren’t as insufferable after all, and perhaps Ratchet has found a human tradition that isn’t quite as strange or worthless as he first believed, because as it has helped in finally revealing how you truly felt about him, then it certainly couldn’t be all that bad.

[stemms]

I believe that c!Tommy’s kleptomania is one of the most fascinating and heartbreaking parts of his personality, as it adds layers to his character, and explains certain parts of the lore that some people seem to consider a simple bad habit and display of his childishness. I would like to elaborate on that further and explore the way it changed in the exile arc.

To begin with, c!Tommy has been suffering from kleptomania ever since s1, but contrary to popular belief, he had no malicious intentions. From the very beginning of the server, he was already severely traumatised to the point of having PTSD and lacked self-worth. So, understandably enough, he was craving something to make up for his self-hatred, and robbery became that thing. c!Tommy would mostly steal insignificant things because what truly mattered was the amount of things he possessed, not their value or rarity. After all, if he had a large number of objects in his possession, it meant that he was worthy, and nothing else truly mattered.

Since the very beginning of exile, despite his need to acquire items to stabilise his extreme self-hatred, c!Tommy adamantly refused to accept anything from his visitors because he couldn’t help but assume that the gifts in question were “pity items”, and being pitied was one of the things he hated the most. As his exile went on, the belief that no one cared enough to offer him a gift out of genuine care, only grew stronger due to c!Dream’s manipulation, c!Tommy’s severe loneliness, and the heartbreak of the Beach Party. However, with time, the blond has grown to trust someone other than c!Dream — c!Ranboo. Eventually, he allowed the enderman hybrid to offer him things, as long as he promised that his gifts came from the heart. As much as c!Tommy attempted to hide his true feelings, he cherished every single object received from c!Ranboo. These weren’t just objects, like the ones he’d often steal from people to feel worthy — these served as a reminder that there was something to live for, and at least, someone other than c!Dream genuinely cared about him.

Considering that c!Dream has been obsessed with c!Tommy ever since s1 (which included living in his walls and stalking him) and used his kleptomania and “destructive nature” as an argument to get him exiled from L’Manberg, he certainly was aware of the boy’s insecurity, and was looking forward to exploiting it to the fullest to break- no, shatter him :)

The daily routine of discarding his objects hurt c!Tommy far more than we could’ve imagined, because if we keep his deep self-hatred in mind, he didn’t simply find it upsetting due to being stuck in the cycle of obtaining and destroying his items — it was something more than that. Every lost item equaled a tiny shard of c!Tommy’s self-worth, and soon enough, there was almost Nothing left; he was nothing but an empty shell.

Understandably enough, with time, the teenager has grown to believe that he wasn’t worthy to possess anything valuable of his own — he was meant to earn every little thing, and his best friend tormentor couldn’t be more pleased :) :) :)

[loveinhawkins]

When he’s really tired, Steve will rub at his left eyebrow bone absentmindedly.

Eddie can’t really pinpoint when he first discovered the habit; it just feels like something he has always known.

Like now, the way Steve’s index finger digs into the arch somehow tells him that Steve had a late night, not through choice—probably lay awake until four in the morning, then began his day with a dull ache radiating from the top of his head.

And… Eddie glances at the clock in his hospital room—yup, Steve’s right on time to crash by four in the afternoon.

He would offer his own damn bed were it not for the fact that he’s more than aware Steve would adamantly refuse.

At this point Eddie almost feels like he has no need of a hospital bed himself, although he knows that’s not true: getting discharged’s on the horizon, but he’s not naive enough to think he’s completely recovered yet—knows his aches and pains will no doubt come back with a vengeance when he returns home.

But that doesn’t change the fact that in amongst the bouts of frustration and boredom, of feeling like all he’s doing is waiting, this little in-between is… nice. He’s gotten into the swing of it by now, knows the pattern.

He’ll keep an eye on the clock, let Steve sleep for a couple hours then gently wake him so he isn’t late: he’s got dinner with the Buckleys tonight followed by a viewing of Murder, She Wrote.

Eddie’s picked up enough to work out that it’s a routine which began last fall; Robin said during their first viewing, Steve sat on an armchair which her dad would usually favour without realising, and her dad cracked an incredibly corny joke about the balance of the universe being disrupted—and she had to privately reassure Steve that the man wearing odd socks, jeans and a faded pyjama shirt at 8pm was, in fact, just kidding.

The routine continued even when things were at their most dire—Eddie knows that he almost caused them to miss an episode at the end of Spring Break.

“Yeah, you really should’ve considered that, dude,” Steve had joked—once they were out of the woods, once he was no longer gripping the back of his chair with white knuckles. (When Eddie could finally breathe a little better.)

“We all have flaws,” Robin said magnanimously; Eddie could feel her hand squeezing his beneath the bedsheets.

A soft clatter of a pencil being dropped onto the floor, rolling to an eventual stop.

Steve’s got a pad of paper resting on his knee. It’s one him and Robin share, taking turns at coming up with more and more outlandish predictions for upcoming episodes.

Eddie can see no such notes on the page right now, not even words: just drowsy pencil trails, getting increasingly faint.

The pad slips from Steve’s knee, slides down to the floor to join the pencil.

Steve reaches for it way too late. Eddie smiles.

“Just leave it, Steve,” he says. “I’ll get it.”

Steve hums in vague acknowledgment. Presses a finger just above his eye, blinks so slowly.

“Mm, why?”

Here’s the song and dance; Eddie could set it to music.

“Cause you’re gonna fall asleep,” he teases, sing-song.

Steve feigns bafflement even as his head’s tipping down to the armrest of the couch. Yeah, another sleepover at Robin’s is definitely in the cards.

“Oh, yeah? How’d you—” a yawn, “—figure that, smarty pants?”

“Guess I just know you,” Eddie says.

Steve’s breathing starts to deepen; his hand gradually falls away from his face, lips already forming unintelligible murmurs. Heavy eyes shut.

And here’s another pattern Eddie’s come to know, like sheet music memorised—engraved on his heart.

Because I love you.

[roosterforme]

The Dirty Details | Rooster x Reader

Summary: The details of how Bradley lost his virginity come as a surprise to you. When you learn how and why he became a consent king, your heart breaks for him. You vow to do everything you can to always make him feel as loved and comfortable as he makes you feel, in and out of the bedroom.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of sex while intoxicated, mentions of sexual assault

Length: 2200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

When you walked into the Hard Deck with Bradley's arm slung over your shoulder, you looked up at him and said, "This is the first time we've been here together since we got married."

"You're right," he rasped, kissing your forehead. "And now I've got this new hardware on my finger that repels all other women."

"Oh, that sounds nice," you told him with a laugh as you led the way through the huge New Year's Eve crowd. "That one over there is looking at you, Roo. Hold up your left hand."

He rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You're the only one I'm looking at, Baby Girl."

"That's Mrs. Bradshaw to you."

Bradley smirked when you smiled at him. "You're just begging to leave early, aren't you?"

You shrugged casually, but you knew for a fact that you'd be able to get Bradley to leave before midnight if you bugged him enough. If you told him you wanted him to take you to bed, he'd be leading you back to the Bronco right away.

But instead you walked into Jake's open arms and hugged him. "Angel," he drawled as he turned you to face the bar. "Your cute coworker is here."

You searched the bar area, and sure enough your eyes found Cat Coleman's, and she waved to you. "Why don't you go talk to her?" you suggested, but Jake adamantly refused. 

"No, it was just an observation," he said before wandering over to Nat. He was so transparent, it was ridiculous. 

"Okay, Jake," you muttered, and then Bradley was handing you a beer.  

"Hey, how was your trip to Maryland for Christmas?" Nat asked as she gave you a hug.

Before you could even respond, Jake loudly said, "Didn't you hear? They didn't even go anywhere at all. Rooster here has been trying to figure out how things work since he lost his virginity on their wedding night. Missed Christmas all together since he's been trying for weeks to find the clit."

You started laughing, and you could feel and hear Bradley's laughter behind you. 

"Hey, Hangman," he said, chuckling. "Fuck you."

"Yeah, Hangman," Nat replied. "That's not how Rooster lost his virginity. I know the whole scoop on that one." She was wiggling her eyebrows and looking smug.

"You do?" you asked Nat, suddenly shocked at the realization that you had no idea about any of the details of your husband's first time.

You turned to look up at Bradley as he sipped his beer, cheeks pink as he met your gaze. 

"Yep," Nat replied, her tone teasing. "Seventeen years old in the backseat of his car with a college girl. An older woman!"

"Really?" you asked Bradley, and he just nodded at you. "She was in college? How old was she?"

"Twenty," Bradley told you quietly while Nat and Jake hooted loud enough to get Payback and Fanboy in on the conversation, too. You could vaguely hear them all comparing their own virginity dirty details, but all you could see was the strange look on Bradley's face.

"What's wrong, Roo?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his waist. "Would a quickie in the bathroom make you feel better?" You started to pull him toward the hallway with a grin, but he just shook his head. 

"Nah. Not tonight."

You couldn't remember the last time he had turned you down in any capacity. Had he ever? Certainly not recently since you'd come off birth control, since you'd become his wife. You were honestly a little stunned. 

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing, Sweetheart," he replied, kissing your forehead. "Wanna play pool?"

But you could tell something was definitely bothering him, even after you agreed to be his partner against Jake and Javy. Because he was awfully quiet compared to how he normally was, and his smile just wasn't quite reaching his eyes. 

But he still pulled you into his arms whenever you were near him, so you let him play a few rounds of pool and have another beer before you tugged on his hand. "Ready to head home?" you asked, tucking yourself against his side. 

"You don't want to stay until midnight?" he asked, eyebrows raised as you looked up at him. 

"No. I want to take you home, Roo."

It took twenty minutes to say goodbye to everyone which meant that you were just pulling into the driveway at the stroke of midnight. Bradley had been singing along to his Motown playlist, and when he put the Bronco in park, you climbed onto his lap. 

"Happy New Year, Baby Girl," he rasped. Then your lips softly met his while he finished singing Baby I Need Your Loving. 

"Will you tell me what's wrong now, Roo?" you asked. You didn't want to press him if he didn't want to talk about it, but he'd been fine when you first arrived at the bar. 

"It's nothing. It's so stupid," he whispered, taking the key out of the ignition and sighing as he climbed out with you in his arms. Once he set you down, you strolled up to the front door with him right at your heels, and you paused with the key in the lock. 

"Okay. But you listen to me all the time. Even when it's something stupid."

"You never say anything stupid, Baby Girl," he kissed your cheek as you opened the door. He was being lovely, but you wanted him to open up for you. He always felt better whenever he did. 

When you made your way to the bedroom and turned on the lamp on your nightstand, Bradley's beautiful face was bathed in soft light, but his brow was pinched in frustration. You pressed your lips together to keep yourself quiet, and a minute later, you were rewarded not only by your husband in just his underwear, but also by his voice. 

"You know how Nat said she knows how I lost my virginity?" 

He was looking down at the bedding and running his fingers through his hair when you whispered, "Yeah?" You crawled to the middle of the bed, but he remained standing next to his side. 

"Well, she doesn't really know what happened. Nobody does." He laughed a bit awkwardly. "Well I guess one other person does."

You nodded and patted the bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," he grunted as he collapsed back against the pillows. "It makes me uncomfortable."

And for the first time ever, you felt like maybe he didn't want you to touch him. You were dying to know what was bothering him. No matter what it was, you wanted to try to fix it, try to give him comfort. That's what he always did for you. But you were at a complete loss right now, silently begging your husband to keep talking. 

He swallowed hard, and you watched his Adam's apple move against the scars on his neck. "Yeah, I was seventeen. Yeah, it was in the backseat of my mom's old, white station wagon that I had been driving. Yeah, it was with a girl who was in college. Her name was Morgan."

You licked your lips and kept your eyes on him while he looked at the ceiling. "I told you this was stupid, Sweetheart. I don't know why it still bothers me." When he reached out for your hand, you felt instantly better and worse at the same time. "I was drunk. It was a little while after my mom died, and I was living with her cousin Brenda. You remember Brenda, from when we were in Virginia?"

"Of course," you replied, playing with his fingers. "How could I forget? I met her when we got engaged. She wants us to come visit again this summer."

"Yeah," Bradley agreed. "Brenda is great." Then he paused for a few beats. "And you know, she tried so hard to make me feel comfortable and welcome there, but I just... didn't. I spent my senior year of high school partying with this group of college kids. We'd all go out in this wooded area near the lake and drink cheap liquor on the weekends. It was right after Mav pulled my papers. A couple months before my eighteenth birthday."

When he reached for you, there was no hesitation as you scrambled into his arms. You settled against his chest, his warm skin and the steady beat of his heart calmed you immediately, and you hoped you were giving him some comfort as well. 

"That girl, Morgan? I thought she was so cool at first. She was studying anthropology. She was smart. She got me drunk and didn't get upset when I talked about my mom. We would make out by the lake. Then one night, I was so drunk, and she told me to take her to my car. I thought we were just going to make out in the backseat."

"Oh, Bradley." You felt sick to your stomach. 

"I didn't tell her no, but I was too drunk to say much of anything. She knew that, but we did it anyway. In the back of my mom's car." 

You squeezed him tight as tears leaked from your eyes. "Roo. She took advantage of you. She should have never. That is not okay."

He sighed, and the sound of it made more tears fill your eyes. "I've never told anyone about it before. I feel a little better now."

"I love you, Roo," you promised, meeting his eyes. And somehow he was the one wiping your tears away when you were supposed to be comforting him. "You sweet man. That wasn't stupid. And you can tell me when something is bothering you. I want you to."

"I know," he agreed. "But sometimes it's hard to think about that night for more than a second. I try not to."

Then you sobbed as realization washed over you, and he pulled you a little closer. "Oh, Bradley! I've convinced you to have sex with me when you were drunk! More than once!"

"No, no, stop," he said firmly, kissing your lips. "It's not the same, Baby Girl."

"But if I ever made you feel uncomfortable-"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "We are in a committed relationship. We have been pretty much from the start. I always want you, and I initiate it 90% of the time when I've been drinking. You always have my consent, and I know you'd stop if I ever gave you the impression that I didn't want it. And I know you would never hurt me."

"Never," you agreed, letting your cheek rest on his shoulder. After a few minutes, you whispered, "You know, there's one really positive thing that came from this though."

"Is there?" he asked, a little skeptical as you stroked your fingers along his tattoo. 

"Yeah. You're the consent king. And I think you always were, even before we met."

"Hmm," he grunted. "Yeah, that's really important to me."

"I love that," you told him, kissing up along his neck until you reached his lips. "And I love you. And you're mine. And Morgan can take her anthropology degree and fucking kick rocks while she thinks about how terrible she is."

Bradley laughed. And your face melted into a smile as you realized how tense your body had been. 

"I fucking love you," he promised. And you knew he did.

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

When you woke up the next morning to Bradley's lips on your shoulder as you were draped across him, you whispered, "Happy New Year."

"Mmhmm," he hummed against your skin. You wanted him in the worst way. He was so big and warm, and he smelled so good. He was yours. He was your husband. He was patient and sweet and everything you needed. And now, especially today, you wanted to make sure he knew that you really saw him. 

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

His lips paused on your shoulder as he rasped, "Yes. Please, touch me."

So you let your hands roam along the muscular planes of his abdomen and chest. You gently dug your fingers into his bicep. You grazed the scars on his cheek with your nose.

"Will you let me kiss you, Roo?"

He responded by kissing you first. His mustache was rough against your skin, but everything else about his embrace was so soft. His lips lingered before chasing yours over and over again.

Your voice was soft, lips brushing his. "I want to have sex with you, if that's what you want."

He kissed his way along your jaw to your ear. "I see what you're doing here, Baby Girl. And I love you for it. Yes, I want to have sex with you, too."

So you took it nice and slow, and you made sure he was comfortable, even though you were certain you could read all of his cues by now. But you'd remember to take that extra step here and there. It wouldn't be hard to do, because he always gave you more than you ever expected. You'd always remind him that what he wanted and needed was important to you, because that was exactly how he made you feel every day.

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

This one hurts a little bit. Because this really happens. I hope you can't relate to what Roo went through here, but if you can, I love you. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls.

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[byte-your-tongue]

Showing The Obey Me! Brothers My Little Pony

(Romantic, GN Reader)

AN: this is also an older post i touched up and decided to throw on here cuz i like this one a lot :3

Lucifer:

Refuses to watch it at first and is the last one of the brothers to see it

He thinks it's just some dumb kids show and he does not have enough time to be watching that with his busy schedule

Won't insult/question you for watching it as long as you are happy and getting all your tasks done, but still finds it a bit childish.

He likes seeing you happy so he’ll listen when you talk about it even if he doesn't have a single idea what you're talking about it.

As all the other brothers start watching it he does feel out of the loop.

He also finds himself humming songs from it because you, Asmo, and Mammon will often break out into songs from the show

Eventually the curiosity gets to him and he wants to see it. He wants to see it for…. research. I mean even Diavolo is watching it now! It's his duty to understand these sorts of things. That's all it is. It's not like he WANTS to watch it

.His pride won’t let him seem too interested in it so he instead hints to you that y'all should watch it together in the most roundabout way ever. Because you know, it wouldn’t be terrible if you forced him… Please drag this man to watch it he won’t watch it on his own but he wants to

Because of Luci’s busy schedule the two of you set up a plan to watch an episode or two whenever he’s free

After about a season of the show Lucifer is absolutely hooked and finds himself watching the show on his own

Is embarrassed to have gotten so engrossed in the show that he watched ahead so he instead just watches from where him and you were when the two get together

But after a while he grows impatient of having to rewatch episodes he’d already seen when he could be watching from where he actually is. After all, he just NEEDS to know what happens to the mane six next. Will they defeat Chrysalis??

Eventually you catch on that he has more info then he should and tease him for having watched ahead. He denies it adamantly but the next time they go to watch he mysteriously puts on an episode about 10 ahead of where they were last time. Don’t mention it to him or you’re never allowed back in his room again. >:(

He doesn’t have a favorite character in particular, but may end up liking whichever one reminds him most of you. He also respects Celestia for how she handles the stress of her position without ever growing angry and feels close to her because he also had to make a hard choice with a younger sibling in the past. Don’t show him Lullaby for a Princess, he WILL cry

Mammon:

Is the second one to start watching

Originally he may tease you for liking a kids show but if it makes you upset he will immediately backpedal and sputter about how he was just joking and please don't get mad at him-

After he sees you and Levi talking about it he wants to be in on the convo. After all, Levi can’t be getting all that time alone with HIS human just because Levi knows more about some stupid colorful horses!

So Mammon goes and binges the whole show. It takes a couple weeks of all nighters and his grades may be doing worse than usual but now he’ll be able to talk about the show with you >:)

Mammon definitely becomes totally invested in the show

He is sobbing over the emotional parts and laughing at the funny ones

When Beel first hears the sobbing from Mammons room one night while he’s getting snacks he’s immediately concerned. Beel barges into the room to check on his older brother but when it turns out Mammon is just watching some show he relaxes. After all, Beel is more than used to hearing Levi up late at night watching anime.

The next time he sees you and Levi talking about the show he casually jumps in the convo with a bunch of info. Levi is angry because rude, Mammon can’t just interrupt him hypothesizing the economical value of a bit with you! But, you are absolutely delighted to hear Mammon actually watched the show!!!! :D

The praise and attention from you was absolutely what Mammon was looking for, and even though he may try and play it off it’s obvious that he’s melting from your beaming smile

Meanwhile Satan and Asmo are off to the side, pouting because they too want attention from you too!

Mammon, Levi, and you can often be heard loudly singing songs from the show and talking about who the best character is

Mammon of course adores Rainbow Dash, she’s clearly the coolest!

Mammon buys a little figure of her to put on his nightstand and talks to her when he’s scheming

Will sometimes take her with him to the casino for luck :)

Levi:

He’s the first one to watch the show with you

At first he doesn’t want to because ew normie show

But you can easily get him to watch it by either just hugging him or pointing out how y'all are always watching things Levi picks

Is one of the only brothers to not try and hide his first impressions of the show and is hooked pretty early on

He’s an expert on binging shows with you so you both manage to get through the whole thing pretty fast

He adores Fluttershy to bits and will take any opportunity to rave about her. Of course she isn’t as great as Ruri-chan, but who is in Levi’s eyes?

He thinks Fluttershy is very impressive with how she is so shy and anxious, but still stands up for what she believes in and even learns to stand up for herself as well!

He is absolutely cheering her on every step of her journey to be less anxious and really admires how hard she seems to work on it

Levi sees how her friends want her to improve but also don’t try to force her too far out of her comfort zone and is reminded of how you treat a yucky otaku such as himself. He is suddenly even more grateful to you and may give you more presents out of nowhere with no explanation

He starts to use Flutters as a way to motivate himself when he is apprehensive about something, he is constantly thinking to himself “Fluttershy would try her best in this situation and I should too!”

You better believe this man has every piece of merch with Fluttershy on it. He actually keeps his favorite figure of her next to his favorite figure of Ruri-chan and he looks over at them about 10 million times a day

He’d also get you anything from the show they wanted. You mentioned there was a limited edition toy you couldn’t find/afford as a kid? You better bet Levi is hunting it down and spending any amount of money to get it for you <3

Satan:

Satan may appear highly sophisticated and whatnot with his charming words and seemingly limitless pool of knowledge, but he actually enjoys many things that others may consider childish

He’s never been one for judging other too severely thanks to how many lifestyles he’s grown accustomed to by reading, and he’s learned to be even more open minded since you came along

So while he may understand the social repercussions for doing childish things and therefore avoid them while in more close minded company, he has no problem with goofing around in private or with you

So when Satan hears that some of his other brothers were so invested in a show from the Human Realm, he can’t help but ask you about it

Once he hears more about it from you he is more than willing to watch the show

He watches some of it with you and some on his own, really it’s just something he has on a lot of the time and you join in watching whenever they are hanging out

Satan of course takes a liking to Twilight and he seriously laments the destruction of The Golden Oak Library

He's the type of person to think up complex theories. You would probably be pretty amused hearing him somehow come up with the exact same theories you remember from fans during the shows run.

He would try his best to figure out how magic in the show works and gets very invested in his theories. He might try to recreate spells from the show in real life.

Probably likes Twilight the most out of the characters.

Asmo:

Asmo is at first a little reluctant to watch the show, but who is he to say no to MC?

He also sees Mammon being praised for watching it and is instantly jealous

They put the show on in the background while he does MCs nails and he isn’t really paying attention until a certain purple maned fashionista is introduced

Falls in love with Rarity at first sight. Now THAT is one fabulous mare!

Absolutely adores all episodes focusing on Rarity, especially the ones focused on her boutique

Asmo is quite good at understanding others and their motivations so he ends up breaking own each character and analyzing them unintentionally and even makes some points that not even Satan or Levi would have been able to notice

He also uses his designing skills to make some of the outfits that Rarity makes in the show, just modified to fit a humanoid form of course

Out of all the ones he makes he ends up liking the Grand Galloping Gala dresses the most. He wears all of them and posts plenty of pictures to Devilgram. Even if most of his followers have no idea what the dresses are from they still support Asmo in everything he does

Asmo also ends up asking Solomon to grab him some Rarity related merch next time he’s in the human realm

Beel:

When Beel comes home from the gym one day to see you and Belphie cuddling in the twin’s room and watching the show Beel doesn’t question it

He just plops down on the other side of you and joins in

Beel often ends up watching the episodes infrequently and out of order, but he still enjoys what he does see

Might watch the show while at lunch at RAD

Now THAT makes for an interesting sight, the avatar of gluttony surrounded by a mountain of food with his usually RBF and just watching some brightly colored kids show with his headphones on

Beel never once judges you for it being a “kid’s show”, in fact the thought never even crosses Beel’s mind. To him it’s a good show and that’s all you need

Beel actually ends up liking it a lot and you show him some more cartoons from your childhood for him to watch

He of course loves Pinkie Pie and The Cakes for their sweet creations

But his actual favorite character is Applejack

He loves her hardworking nature and honesty

He really just adores the whole Apple Family, they all seem to love each other so much

His favorite episode is probably the one where Pinkie goes on a roadtrip with them to see if she’s really an Apple or not

[muletia]

your yandere starscream snippet?? good lord... 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️as a fellow starscream simp I (and plenty of other followers) are willing to read more if u wanna expand on yandere starscream? (ignore or delete if u dont wanna :3)

[tfp] yandere!starscream x human!reader very incoherent and crack(ish) ramblings because I'm insane about this scrimblo

Imagine it’s four in the morning, and you suddenly wake up to get a drink of water. You lean over to grab the full glass on your nightstand, but you don’t even manage to touch the glass with your fingertips because you notice a pair of scarlet optics staring directly at you in the darkness. Oh, and they’re hovering right above your bed. The best part? This isn’t the first or last time this has happened, because he frequently breaks into your house at night just to look at you.

You’d better hope you sleep through his visit, because if you wake up and Starscream notices, you’ll be bombarded with a monologue about how you don’t pay him enough attention. How dare you bolt the doors against him?! You knew full well he would come to see you. And now, thanks to you, the door is ripped off its hinges, cold air is pouring into your house, and he absolutely detests the cold. So you’d better warm his majesty up—or he’ll shove himself under your blanket. Oh, and it’s only Tuesday, which means you’ve got at least ten more incidents like this to look forward to this week.

Since he enjoys breaking into your house—because it’s nice to have a place where no one takes out their frustrations on you with brute force, and where he’s at least somewhat welcome (or so he convinces himself)—he also loves to snatch a few “souvenirs” for himself. Especially when his obsession reaches its peak and he knows he won’t be able to see you for a while. Usually, it’s your clothes that he takes. They remind him of you when he desperately needs comfort.

He’ll nuzzle and cling to them, imagining he’s doing so with you, using them to stave off complete madness. The only downside of stealing clothes soaked in your scent is that the scent fades far too quickly, especially since Starscream often finds himself in rough patches. So you’ll soon notice your clothes disappearing at an alarming rate. Unfortunately, I’m afraid you’ll never get them back. Starscream will adamantly deny any knowledge of the theft and refuse to return the stolen items. By now, they’ve been so thoroughly abused that they’d never return to their original state of cleanliness anyway.

Without his obsession, Starscream is already demanding attention, but when you add a deranged and unhealthy love into the mix, his need for attention skyrockets. When you’re awake, and Starscream decides to visit you—which happens alarmingly often, especially during his self-imposed exile, he insists you keep your eyes on him at all times.

When you talk to him, you must look at him, listen carefully to what he has to say, and actively participate in the conversation. Otherwise, he becomes unbearable. You can’t walk away or leave him; you’re forced to engage. Any attempt to escape will result in manipulation—and if that doesn’t work, he’ll use force. How dare you use your phone in his presence? He’ll snatch it right out of your hands and force you into a conversation with him. Ignoring him despite his threats and insults? If you’re outside, he’ll pin you in place with his claws, forming a sort of cage, and continue his tirade as if nothing happened. If you’re indoors, he’ll trap you with his body instead.

The problem is that once physical contact occurs, Starscream has no intention of letting go.

He clings to you so desperately it’s almost disgusting. He constantly forces physical contact, whether it’s kissing, stroking, or demanding affection himself, often at the most unexpected times, like that miserable four in the morning. And since he’s nearly impossible to satisfy, these sessions can go on forever.

Hours spent stroking his helm and delivering monologues praising his majesty leave your wrist aching and your throat sore. And the next day? You can look forward to another session of the exact same thing.

He’s intensely possessive and jealous, ready to gouge out the eyes, or optics, of anyone who dares so much as glance at you. You can’t even mention your friends’ names in his presence. He’d be happiest if you stopped interacting with anyone else altogether, shrinking your circle of acquaintances down to just him. You don’t need anyone else, right?

After all, the only thing he needs to be happy is you and you alone.

He’s exhausting, demanding, and unafraid to use force to get what he wants from you, but you’ll never get rid of him, no matter how much you might want to. You can scream at him until your voice gives out, try to fortify your home against his intrusions, but Starscream isn’t going anywhere. He has no intention of giving up the only source of comfort in this vile and unjust world. He’ll fight for you at the cost of his sanity—or even his life.

[anto-pops]

Beseech Me - Ominis Gaunt x Female! Reader

Summary: Ominis works too much, and your neediness results in you adamantly refusing to go to bed without him. He comes up with a torturous compromise.

Alternatively summarized as Ominis tormenting you while he works until you can't take it anymore. Hot and frantic on-the-desk antics ensue.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, rough sex on a desk, Dominis if you squint

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 as per usual !

“Please, Ominis,” you whined breathlessly, pinching your eyes shut as you fought the urge to writhe in his lap. “Please move– please.”

The man in question only chuckled under his breath, gliding his fingertips lightly up your spine as he maintained his charmed hold on his dictation quill. He made no move to heed your request, instead opting to keep working as if he weren’t buried balls deep inside of your tight heat. When you had asked him to take a break to spend time with you earlier, this was the absolute last thing you had anticipated. The only reason you’d agreed to entertain his idea was because you had convinced yourself that his restraint wouldn’t last– that he would cave and take you on top of the desk in the way you were desperate for him to– but evidently his self-control was unbreakable. 

You’d never been proven so wrong in your life. He was clearly deriving some sort of sick, twisted pleasure from toying with you in this manner, and it seemed like the more you begged, the slower his quill moved across the parchment. At this rate, you were certain you would be forced to sit on his cock until dawn. 

“You’re hardly in any position to be telling me what to do,” his warm breath ghosted over your neck, the barely there feeling of his lips against your skin making your head spin with arousal. “You were the one who couldn’t wait until I finished my work. Besides, I think this is a perfectly reasonable compromise.” 

Swallowing thickly, you dug your nails into his clothed shoulders in a bid to keep yourself still. The urge to rock down into his lap was insatiable, but you already knew that doing so would set you back irritatingly further. 

“Don’t move, or you won’t get anything from me,” were Ominis’ exact words. You didn’t doubt for a second that he would follow through on that promise if you let your impatience get the best of you. 

You wet your lips and cracked your eyes open to stare at the wall over his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the pulsing of his shaft within your walls. “It’s just– you’re always working. There’s always more for you to get done, and I get lonely. Please take a break– please fuck me, Ominis, I’m begging you.”

The blond’s fingers skirted down your back once more before moving to squeeze at the curve of your waist, as though he were about to relent. He didn’t, though, and instead opted to press a hot, chaste kiss to your pulse. “I do so like it when you beg…” he mused thoughtfully, dragging his free hand away from the desk to grip the other side of your waist. You couldn’t see his dictation quill, but you heard the scratching of its tip against the parchment slow down some, and your heart skipped a beat as you contemplated whether or not he was finally giving in. “You make it incredibly difficult to focus on important matters, you know that?” 

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sudden feeling of Ominis’ teeth sinking into your neck stole the words from your throat. He bit fervently against your flesh, sucking a proprietary mark into your skin with a throaty hum, and your shaky moan reverberated off the walls and caused your lover’s cock to twitch enthusiastically inside of you. 

Ominis would be lying if he said teasing you this way was easy. On the contrary, when you had walked into his office to ask him to come to bed earlier, he naturally wanted to agree immediately and forgo finishing his report for the Ministry entirely. Denying you the first time was a necessary evil, but then you had come up behind him to wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he’d been made aware of the silk bathrobe you wore with presumably little underneath. That revelation had shattered the majority of his restraint, and he knew then and there that he wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a lick of his work after that. 

You’d been all too eager to take him up on his offer of warming his cock, but little did you know he’d made the suggestion more for himself than for you. Beyond the euphoric sensation of being sheathed in your clenching heat, Ominis relished in working you over the edge with little to no effort– and Merlin, had he succeeded. Your labored breathing in his ear for the past half hour was like the finest of music, and your breasts pressing against his clothed chest was as intoxicating as Firewhiskey. 

In truth, he hadn’t gotten much work done for the duration of time you’d been sitting in his lap; he didn’t need sight to know there was a series of meaningless scribbles in the corners of his report, put there entirely to play up his charade. Everything about you was that distracting, and he huffed out a sigh as his baser urges finally won out against his responsibilities. 

Ominis laved his tongue over the freshly bruised bit of skin, leaving crescent shaped marks on your hips as he held you tighter to ever-so-slightly grind up into you. The feeling had you gasping into the crook of his neck as your forehead fell against his shoulder, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as you allowed the blond to maneuver you however he pleased. 

It took every ounce of willpower in Ominis’ body to keep his voice low and controlled when he murmured, “I suppose you have been well behaved… a little needy, but that’s nothing new.” He pushed your hips back before steadily pulling them forward again, and his eyelids fluttered shut at the sheer bliss the friction offered him. “I’ll fuck you, but you have to wait to come until I say so. Understood?” 

The mere thought of having to wait a second longer for him to move had you nodding brainlessly into the crook of his shoulder, and you ardently wound your arms around his neck to hold him closer as you cautiously rocked against him. At this point, you were willing to promise him anything if it meant getting what you wanted. 

One of his hands left your waist to wind through your hair, and when he tightened his fingers around the strands to pull you away from him, you couldn’t stop the surprised yelp that tumbled from your parted lips. “Use your words, darling, or I’ll leave you waiting for another hour. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” you gasped breathlessly, forced to address the ceiling since Ominis’ hand in your hair had your head tilted back. “I understand, I won’t come until you tell me to. Please, Ominis, I promise–”

“That’ll do,” he cut you off quickly, releasing his hold against your scalp to grip your hips once more. His lithely muscled arms held you flush to him as he stood straight, and the legs of his chair scraped loudly against the floorboards as he kicked it away to give himself more space. In one swift motion, Ominis deposited you on top of the desk and firmly pushed you down so you were draped on your back across the oak surface, his cock still inside you. His clever fingers set to undo the buttons of his shirt as the hand against your sternum trailed lower to tease around your wet folds, and a keening sound resonated from deep in your chest as he grazed his thumb over your sensitive clit. 

Much like his shallow grinding earlier, it wasn’t enough. Your voice was airy when you asked, “C-Can I touch myself?” 

His hand stilled momentarily before retreating, and he nodded down at you with a coy smirk on his face. “You’re a good girl for asking, so yes. Remember your promise though.” 

Your hand flew off the table to rub tight circles against the hyper-sensitive nub, and the relief that washed over you then was tantamount to perfection. It was the stimulation you’d been after since straddling Ominis earlier, and your eyes jumped up to watch as the blond shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and dropped the attire unceremoniously to the floor. His eyes closed momentarily when the attention you bestowed upon yourself caused your walls to tighten around his cock, and a shameless moan ripped from his throat at the same time he leaned forward to brace his arms on either side of you. 

“Fuck– you’re greedy for it, aren’t you?” 

The clipped edge to Ominis’ voice betrayed just how much he wanted this too, and your breathy laugh filtered up to him as you teased, “Am I to believe you’re not?” 

Those milky blue eyes of his narrowed as he processed your remark, and your mouth dried up when his expression shifted into something far more domineering than before. He lifted one of his hands to run the appendage up your stomach, then your chest, before eventually settling against your throat, and your eyes widened when he squeezed gently to convey his feelings on the snide comment. 

“Are you sassing me right now? Bold words from the woman who beseeched me to take her on the desk. Just for that,” he started to say, reaching between the two of you to grasp the hand you’d been using on yourself, “no more of this. You’re mine to play with now, darling.”

In a flash, Ominis pinned your hand against the rough wood above your head, holding you firmly in place by the throat with the other. You whimpered pitifully, opening your mouth to stutter out a string of apologies before he forbade you from coming entirely, but a hurried thrust of his hips interrupted your efforts. The force in the action had your shoulder blades scraping deliciously against the desk, and you moaned wantonly as Ominis worked to set a brutal pace. 

He spread his legs to accommodate his low hanging trousers before pounding himself roughly into your tight cunt. “Calling me greedy when you’re the one under me getting fucked senseless,” he growled with a gruff tone, squeezing around your windpipe to pull you harder onto his cock as he plunged in and out of you without mercy. “You couldn’t wait– didn’t want to wait. You’re as demanding and needy as they come.” 

His head tipped back and sent strands of his blond hair across his forehead as he bucked desperately into your overwhelmingly slick walls, and after being sheathed in your tight heat for so long without moving, he felt himself growing closer to his release as you clenched tellingly around him. Ominis abandoned his hold on your throat as he bent over you, raking his nails down your chest to pinch one of your nipples into a stiff peak, and your back arched off the desk for all of two seconds before the imposing man jerked your head to the side by your hair to sink his teeth into your shoulder. 

“O-Ominis, fuck–” you cried out abruptly, the combined feeling of his bite and the slap of his hips against your ass enough to make you see stars. The fire that ignited in your blood had you flushing from head to toe as you frantically sought more stimulation from him, but the whispers of your earlier promise haunted the far reaches of your mind like a ghost. You bit your lip and writhed brainlessly underneath him, fighting your looming orgasm with every ounce of restraint you could muster up. It was easier said than done; between Ominis’ frantic pace, his possessive hold on your hair, and the guttural, animalistic sounds he was making, you wanted nothing more than to finally fall over the edge into white bliss. 

Ominis knew it too, but he wasn’t about to give you what you wanted without a little more effort on your part. 

Releasing your hair to loop his arm under your rounded spine, Ominis mouthed wetly down the column of your throat before breathing his request against your sweat-slick skin, “Tell me what you want, love. Say the words.”

“I-I want to come– please let me come, Ominis, please.” Your breathless noises grew louder as Ominis licked a broad stripe along your collarbone before kissing and sucking another love-bite right below your clavicle. When he suddenly hauled your waist against him and slammed his cock up into you, your eyes crossed as you gasped for air and let your head fall back against the desk. The blond buried the cacophony of sounds falling from his lips against your skin, groaning at the way you arched hard and tightened perfectly around his throbbing member, and your thighs trembled bonelessly on either side of him. 

All you could do was let Ominis hold you, giving yourself over to him completely as he fucked incoherent pleas from your swollen lips and chased his own pleasure. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought your climax, and when your lover turned his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his pace quickened immeasurably further. His thick cock nailed you perfectly, each thrust he gave you pulling out almost entirely before he stuffed you full again, and the hand he didn’t have pinned to the desk flew up to grip his bicep as your body quaked with pleasure. 

It was too much to bear– you needed to come– almost as much as you needed to breathe. The overstimulating sensations were driving you insane, and when Ominis moaned long and loud next to your ear, you almost caved without permission. 

Almost. 

Ominis knew you were close. He could feel you fighting your finish as you writhed and angled your hips to meet his, and he could hear your cries of his name growing louder and louder until your voice was cracking on the end of your pleas of, “Please let me come, please Ominis– can I come?” He grazed his teeth up your throat towards your ear, and his fingers dug into the bones of your wrist as his grip turned irontight. The arm he had coiled around your waist followed suit, and after a few more hurried thrusts into you, Ominis acceded to your begging. 

“Come for me, darling,” he moaned directly beside your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me, let me feel you.” 

You didn’t even give him the chance to repeat himself. 

Arching clean off the desk, your breathing stopped entirely as you tensed in Ominis’ arms, and a strangled gasp caught in his throat when your sopping wet heat clamped down on his cock to seemingly suck him in deeper. His hand on your wrist fell away in an instant to slip between your flush bodies, and those nimble fingers sought out your clit with a practiced ease that sent your composure careening into oblivion. 

The added stimulation was damn near unbearable, but you had no way to escape his unrelenting hands as he held you through your climax. Your voice was a raspy, sinful melody in his ears, and Ominis knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Merlin, you feel so good, love. So perfect for me– I’m close–” 

“D-Don’t stop,” you stammered in between gasps, your nails clawing into the wood of the desk in a bid to find purchase. “Gods, don’t stop Ominis, cum inside– please, please–”

He was all too happy to oblige you. With a throaty groan, Ominis lowered you so you were laying across the desk once again, then slipped his hands under the bent crooks of your knees to push your legs against your chest. Still hyper-sensitive from your ebbing finish, the new angle allowed you to feel more of your lover’s cock inside of you as he began thrusting into you harder and faster. The blond’s head tipped back as he shamelessly moaned your name into the open air, and before long the sound was drowned out by the slapping of his hips against your ass as he pounded into you. 

With your thighs nearly pressed together, Ominis felt impossibly thicker as his manhood reached deeper. Everytime he pulled back, the blunt head of his cock rubbed past your sweet spot perfectly, and your toes curled as you gasped and moaned, your senses completely overwhelmed by the overstimulation. Ominis’ grip on your legs turned bruising as his pace grew rougher, steadily losing the fight to maintain his rhythm– especially when your hands flew from the desk to brainlessly claw at his forearms. 

“Fuck, darling– fuck,” he grit through his clenched teeth, and with one final thrust into your pulsing core, Ominis came with a husky cry of your name. His hands slid to the front of your legs to pull you back against his hips to better grind against your rear, milking every thick bit of cum from his twitching cock. Hot spurts of his seed painted your insides and brought you higher than before, and your nails dragged down his arms as you keened breathlessly beneath him, wriggling back into his shallow grinding the best you could. 

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, but realistically could only have been a handful of minutes. You blearily blinked up at Ominis when he released your thighs to brace his arms against the desk, his chest rising and falling as he sucked down deep, shaky breaths, and you brazenly wound your trembling legs around his waist to keep him exactly where he was. The wet sound of his load squelching out around his cock had him groaning unabashedly— not-so-secretly in love with the sordid noises your cunt made when it was filled to the brim with his cum— and your eyelids fluttered shut as streaks of the white fluid dripped down your ass onto the desk.

When he lifted his head to gaze down in your direction, your stomach flipped at the lustful glimmer in his hazy eyes, and his hands skirted across the oak surface beneath you in search of your face. You angled your head to the side to meet him halfway, and he followed his arm as he bent down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss that said more than words ever could. He still elected to speak, however, amusement lacing his tone as his fingers traced the outline of your jaw. 

“I suppose you’re feeling rather pleased with yourself right about now,” he murmured softly against your lips, gently rocking his hips against yours and smearing his sticky seed across your rear. Thus far he had made no move to pull out, but you weren’t about to start complaining. Your current arrangement was beyond preferable to the torturous waiting game you’d been playing with him earlier. 

You tried and failed to fight the smirk that stretched across your face, and you chuckled coyly under your breath. “What makes you say that?” 

Ominis’ eyes darkened when he pulled away, and his hands trailed higher up the desk to wind in your unruly hair once again as he gathered the strands in his fists. Your eyes widened and your breath halted as he inhaled deeply– as though he were committing your scent to memory– before he nudged his nose against yours and grinned wickedly. “Because now I have every intention of stretching this ‘break’ well into the morning,” he vowed, and the revelation had your heart soaring while your stomach simultaneously flipped on itself. “How many more times can I fill you before it gets to be too much… let’s find out, shall we?”

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, your hands splayed against his pale sternum as you cautiously asked, “Shouldn’t you sleep? You have work in the morning…”

“To hell with sleep,” Ominis tutted disapprovingly at you, tightening his hold against your scalp. “You started this after all. I’ll make sure you’re the farthest thing from lonely tonight, darling.” 

If the way his cock seemed to revive inside of you was any indication, you knew with the utmost certainty that he definitely wasn’t lying. You didn’t know whether to be excited or afraid as you realized exactly what it was you’d inadvertently signed yourself up for. 

Merlin’s balls— you were in for it now. 

[lookinthymirror]

gendered antisemitism and when jewish violence is exceptionalized (is everyone except the jews allowed to be violent?):

elza niego, a turkish jewish woman, was murdered by an older turkish man for adamantly rejecting his advances. he stabbed her to death more than 8 times in 1927. he had stalked her for years and was enraged at her engagement to her jewish coworker. he had even tried to kidnap her with other accomplices. elza and her family complained to the police and as a result he also spent time in prison (only some months). he refused to stop asking elza's family for her hand in marriage and was rejected each time, making him more upset. after his release from prison, he stabbed elza to death and severely injured her sister who was present at the time and tried to protect her. he did this in broad daylight. she was 17 when he first approached her and he was in his 50s. elza died at the age of 18. her murderer was osman ratip, the son of ahmet ratip pasa, former ottoman governor of the hijaz.

her murder sparked an intense emotional reaction from the turkish jewish community and her funeral attracted hundreds of jews to the streets. the turkish press claimed jews had flocked to the streets, blocking traffic and yelling calls for justice. jewish public outrage was unacceptable, seditious, and ungrateful. the press reaction led to the arrest of nine jewish leaders and the curtailing of the jews’ right to free travel in turkey. niego’s murder was an early indicator of the new government’s determination to quash any public jewish expression.

the funeral march of elza.

now these accusations of jews being disruptive and "violent" are mostly BS. but it is always possible that a few were, indeed, violent and unruly. because 25,000 turned up for elza’s funeral, demanding justice for her. it is only logical that some of those 25,000 acted poorly. or maybe even more than just *some*. with post oct 7th logic, does that make the antisemitic campaign demonizing and punishing jews for flooding the streets in support of elza okay and justified? these accusations of violence were mostly false but the world truly fears jewish violence, exceptionalizing it as "the worse of all". i'm not saying we should just do whatever we want and be violent to get back at them but it is important to recognize that jewish violence is treated very differently than others.

the police protected osman, not allowing him the punishment of being lynched and instead sending him to a mental asylum.

the antisemitic press demanded that turkey break off all ties with the jews. anti-jewish demonstrations spread to izmir: jewish schools were closed down and jewish newspapers prevented from publishing. meanwhile the press demanded that the jews be expelled from turkey. hmm...sounds familiar?

a handful of jews (around 9 or 10) were arrested for bad behavior and some reports state they were also arrested for insulting turkishness.

while the trial for these jewish men was being orchestrated, elza’s murderer osman had been deemed criminally insane and remanded to an asylum instead of being convicted for murder and sent to prison.

limitations on travel were then imposed on turkish jews. jak pardo, an elderly jewish teacher, wrote a letter to his former student prime minister inonu during the trial, complaining of maltreatment of the jews, which led him to be arrested for contempt of court. 

as the prosecutor complained in court about jews not speaking turkish enough in public life and being ungrateful, it was evident to all involved that this was a show trial regarding the jews’ national loyalty to turkey. the case did not hinge on the facts specific to the funeral of elza niego. looking for evidence of an organized anti-turkish contingent, the police investigated the chief rabbinate and other jewish communal institutions and interviewed prominent jewish businessmen and communal leaders like albert karaso and marko nahum. and the anti-jewish campaign that was sparked by elza’s funeral was not strictly local. in izmir, the local turkish press relentlessly published anti-jewish screeds, a young jew was arrested after brawling with a man who hassled him for speaking ladino (anti zionists mad at jews for speaking hebrew is the same energy lmfao), and local teachers organized a petition protesting against jews, including a call for taking down hebrew signage at the jewish hospital and rabbinate—which an anti-jewish mob promptly did. 

immediately after the trial, notable works of jewish apologia were published by prominent jewish writers such as muhsin tekinalp (formerly moiz kohen) and avram galante. 

the jewish memory of the elza niego affair, as the jewish turkish press called it, was focused on the proven innocence of jews against accusations of disloyalty, while turkish memory centered on the unfortunate death of a young beautiful girl, minimizing the surrounding politics and pretending like the antisemitism that ensued never existed.