#DO YALL HAVE ANY IDEA OF HOW INSANE THIS IS?!?!?!?!?!?!?

[sematarygirls]

stop i’m literally so in love with your acc, it’s gorgeous!!!! missed you sm. need to start writing or creating something again tbh but idk what.

anywaysss had this super cool drummer!rafe idea where they’re all like mid-20s and were suspected of murder (maybe a roadie died or an ex bandmate??)

buttt there you are interning with the local police department (aka nancy drew nerd) and go poking around (woah somehow you end up in rafe’s arms what a coincidence). maybe he did it or maybeee he didn’t, who knows. ur just a silly little inter.. right?? unless ofc this wasn’t the first time you met and you both did it together?

anyways do what you wish with this, feel free to let it rot. ur a genius mastermind either way. ily mwahhh

(here’s some drew pics mini moodboard bc why not)

Partners In Crime — Rafe Cameron.

pairing: drummer!rafe x policeintern!reader

summary: your internship at the kildare county sheriff's department proves extremely useful after ex-bandmate of local rock sensation, morphine animals, is found murdered.

warnings: smut! semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, murder, inaccuracies regarding police work

word count: 3.6k words !

a/n: this request is AMAZING omg!! your mind is literally so incredibly brilliant. i am so incredibly jealous. i just want to scoop it out and study it because your plots are always so genius it's insane. also, i got a little freaky with this request. i don't know where it came from, but i hope yall enjoy. side note, i know nothing about police stations or internships beyond what I've seen on tv, so this is most likely very far from anything that would happen in real life.

✶ . ࣪ ׅ   You cursed quietly, swatting a mosquito away from you as your fingers danced along the collection of files, skimming through the box of evidence labeled "Ryder, Elliot". It was July, and the summer was in full swing. the air was thick and heavy, causing a layer of sticky sweat to cling to every inch of your body. The cramped storage room seemed to be at least 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the police station, and it had the added bonus of recycled air that smelled of dust and mildew.

Your gaze flickered between the door and the police report in your hands, readying yourself to be caught any moment now. Technically, you weren't supposed to be looking at anything in this room. You were simply an intern, and as such, your jobs mostly consisted of clerical work like running the front desk, answering phones, and filling out the occasional police report—typically for some misdemeanor offense that they had granted you competent enough to navigate your way around.

On a normal day, you did not have clearance to be in this little room with all the important documents pertaining to cases ranging anywhere from vandalism to first-degree murder. However, on this particular day, you had been instructed to organize and clean the records room, ensuring that everything was dusted off and placed in alphabetical order.

You knew you weren't really supposed to take a peek into any of these boxes, but when you saw the name Elliot Ryder on one of the boxes, you simply couldn't help yourself. It was the biggest case your town had seen in the last decade.

"Local rock legend Morphine Animal's ex-band-mate found murdered" had been splashed across headlines for weeks, each news site ranging from local to national discussing the case and their theories, but surprisingly much of the case had remained a mystery.

Morphine Animals had been practically untouchable ever since they skyrocketed to fame. It was truly fascinating how quickly they went from small-town rockstar wannabes to household names. They became a national sensation practically overnight, and it all started when Elliot Ryder was fired as the band's drummer and replaced by Rafe Cameron.

You remembered it vividly. Elliot went around telling everybody who would listen how he was cheated out of fame. The other three band members had been his childhood best friends. The band was their passion project and they had vowed to do it all together, but then, one night, they just dropped him out of the blue, and Rafe Cameron took his spot.

People couldn't help but wonder if the band's colorful history had anything to do with the murder. The whole situation would've made more sense if Rafe was the one murdered. It would be open and shut. Elliot killed Rafe to get back at him for taking his spot and stealing the fame that was "rightfully" his, but revenge just doesn't quite sit right with the case being turned around.

Rockstar drummer that has it all kills small-town drunk nobody? It just doesn't fit.

You turn your attention back to the police report in hand. You didn't have much time left before someone inevitably needed a file or came to check on you, so you needed to focus, read it, and put everything back where you found it before that happened.

Case Number 0608

Responding Officer: Sheriff Susan Peterkin

On 06/28/2023 at approximately 2100 hours, I responded to a noise complaint at 2971 Shorecrest Drive.

I knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. I announced myself as the police and knocked once more, but again, received no answer. I looked into the window for signs of life, and saw Elliot Ryder laying prone on the living room floor with a pool of blood around him. I immediately radioed for assistance and kicked down the door. I checked his pulse and discovered that Ryder was deceased. While I waited for assistance, I secured the scene. At approximately 2110 hours, Deputy Victor Shoupe, Officer Danielle Lyonne, and Officer Franklin Hewitt arrived on scene. Officers Hewitt and Lyonne canvased the surrounding homes and took their statements to find out if anyone had seen or heard anything. Their individual statements are enclosed. Deputy Shoupe called for the coroner and cordoned off the area while I began assessing the crime scene in a spiral method. Pictures included document the blood patterns and shattered glass discovered at the scene. No murder weapon was discovered.

I instructed Deputy Shoupe to stay at the scene and await the coroner's arrival while I headed back to the station. At approximately 2330 hours, I left the scene.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you read over the report. You used the back of your hand to wipe the beads of sweat that had formed on your forehead—created from a mix of the unbearable heat and your growing nervousness as the moments ticked by—stopping them from dripping down your skin.

Your gaze darted to the door once again before returning to the files, pulling out a series of pictures that documented the crime scene.

He was found on his stomach, the hair on the back of his head matted with blood. The cause of death was blunt force trauma, and it was very evident from the crime scene photos.

You turned your attention from the photos documenting his body to the ones showing the state his living room had been left in. There was broken glass from a shattered mirror near the front door coating the carpet, and the living room looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Furniture had been turned over, his belongings strewn about in a disorganized fashion. It seemed like whoever had been there was looking for something.

Something in one of the photos caught your eye. It was small, almost imperceptible, but the flash from the camera reflected off something imbeded into the cream colored carpet just beneath the table that Elliot's body was found beside.

Your brows furrowed as you brought the photo closer to your face, squinting to get a better look.

The sound of footsteps approaching made you jump. You quickly folded the picture and shoved it into your pocket before placing the photos and police report back into the box and hauling it onto the shelf.

"Hey, kid," Deputy Shoupe peeked his head inside, the sound of him chewing his gum seemingly reverberating off the walls. You turned, your face flushed, and your heart practically beating out of your chest. You had managed to get everything in order moments before he opened the door.

"Uh, yes, sir?" You cleared your throat, brushing away a strand of hair that had gotten stuck to your sticky forehead.

"Boss lady needs the Ryder files," he informed you, still smacking his gum. The sound filled your ears, somehow louder than the beating of your own heart.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you turned and grabbed the box, the piece of paper in your pocket feeling like it weighed a ton as you carried the heavy box over to him. "Can I ask why?" You worked up the courage to ask, handing him the files, your palms sweaty as you pulled back.

"Just got done interviewing Rafe Cameron," he told you, propping the box under his arm. Your eyes widened a fraction. Why was Sheriff Peterkin reinterviewing him? Was there new evidence to connect him to the murder? "So, she wants to take another look at the evidence."

"Oh," you simply said, the room seeming to grow hotter. "Whew, god, it's hot," you huffed, fanning yourself. "Are you hot?" You asked, clearly not doing well at playing it cool.

"You alright kid?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow curiously at your odd behavior.

"Yeah, I think I'm just gonna step outside and get some air," you nodded, suddenly feeling very suffocated in the stuffy atmosphere.

"Sure, whatever," he shrugged, clearly not all that interested in you or your actions as he turned on his heels to deliver the box to Peterkin.

You hurried down the long, grey corridor, pushing the backdoor open harshly when you arrived at it. Outside wasn't much cooler, but the small, shaded alleyway provided reprieve from the sun's unrelenting rays. You took a few deep breaths, feeling better now that you were breathing fresh, clean air.

"You look like shit," a voice piped up. Your head whipped to the side, eyes finding the source. Rafe Cameron was leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling from his lips. He was wearing a white tank top that clung to him like a second skin. the heat was just as unforgiving on him, his muscles glistening and his hair sticking out in all directions, a few strands clinging to his slick forehead.

"Excuse me," you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. Truthfully, you knew you probably did look like shit. You were sweating like a pig, your clothes clinging to you uncomfortably, and after hours of running your hands through it and being subject to intense humidity, your hair was undoubtedly frizzy and wild.

Rafe pushed off the wall, taking one last drag before flicking the cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his boot. His blue eyes locked onto yours, amusement dancing in them as he approached you. "I'm just sayin'," he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"Yeah, well, you don't look too hot yourself," you rolled your eyes. It was a lie, of course. Somehow, he even made sweating to death in the sweltering July heat look sexy. It was utterly infuriating.

He grinned, amused at your attempt to insult him, but he could see right through you. "You mad at me or somethin'?" His hand reached out and wrapped around your wrist, his grip sending shivers down your spine.

"You just said I looked like shit," you glared at him. The heat was making you irritable, and it didn't help that his stupid fucking earring—that you'd told him twenty goddamn times to take out—had showed up in a crime scene photo.

Rafe's thumb began to trace circles on the inside of your wrist, his touch sending electric jolts through your body. "C'mon, you know I was just teasing you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and seductive. He knew how to play your body better than he knew how to play his drums.

You stubbornly pulled away from him, ignoring the way your body reacted to his touch. "You're lucky I got saddled with file room duty, asshole" you gritted out, pulling the picture from your back pocket and shoving it into his muscular chest.

Rafe wore a silver stud in his ear, a staple of his rockstar persona, and that little glimmer of reflected flash in that crime scene photo was that stud, which had fallen out during the murder.

Thankfully, it hadn't been logged into evidence and had been completely overlooked by the bumbling small town crime scene techs, so you only had to take the photo to keep that little piece of incriminating evidence from ever being discovered.

Rafe glanced down at the photo, his expression unchanging as he took it in. He looked back up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. "You worried about me, babe?" He asked, his voice laced with mockery, but there was a harder edge to it that betrayed his unperturbed demeanor.

"No," you shot back, your brows furrowing in frustration. God, the heat was making you bitchy. "I'm worried about myself. I mean, I covered up your little fuck up perfectly. The last thing I need is for you and your lame ass jewlery to fuck me over."

Rafe's hand snaked out and wrapped around your throat, his grip tight but not painful. He backed you up against the brick wall, his eyes boring into yours. "You think I can't take care of my own shit?" He asked, his voice a low growl. His patience was clearly wearing thinner and thinner by the second. He was already agitated at being ripped away from band practice to do this little song and dance with the police. The last thing he needed was you bitching at him and challenging his capabilites.

"If you could take care of your own shit, you wouldn't have called me in the middle of the night panicking because you fucking killed someone," you retorted, not backing down. You weren't afraid of him in the slightest. You knew what he was capable of, but it didn't scare you. In fact, there was a twisted part of you that liked knowing about his violent side.

Rafe Cameron had been the one to kill Elliot Ryder in cold blood, and he'd called you up moments after because he knew your experience as a police intern would come in handy. You had rushed over and helped him stage the whole thing as a burglary gone wrong. Unfortunately, Rafe hadn't realized his little wardrobe malfunction until it was too late to go back and retrieve it.

His face darkened, his hand tightening around your throat. "I had it handled," he hissed. "Until you showed up and decided to play detective." His other hand reached down, gripping your hip possessively. "You're supposed to be on my side, not throwing my mistakes in my face."

"Then stop making dumb fucking mistakes," you spat, your jaw clenching in annoyance. You could feel your panties growing wetter by the second, which only fueled your frustration toward him. You hated how he could still make you want him even when he was being a complete asshole.

Rafe's face twisted with anger, but beneath it, you saw a flicker of something else—desire. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your lips. "You know, I should just shut you up for good," he muttered, his grip on your throat unyielding.

"Yeah?" You asked, your voice almost taunting. "You gonna kill me, Rafe?" You looked him in the eye, not backing down. "Who's gonna clean up your messes then, huh?"

His expression turned grim, and for a monent, you thought he might actually do it. But, then, without warning, he crushed his mouth to yours in a rough, bruising kiss. His hands tightened further on your hip, pressing against your body and pinning you in place.

He bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood. His tongue darted out, lapping up the blood and soothing the wound as his thumb rubbed over your pulse point, feeling the way your heartbeat quickened with desire. His mouth tasted of nicotine, stale beer, a slight hint of mint, and then the metallic taste of your blood on his tongue. If it were anyone else, you would've recoiled in disgust, but something about him was intoxicating.

He was so close you could feel his bulge pressing into you, and it only made you want him more. You didn't care that you were pressed against a wall in the back alley behind the police precinct, in fact, something about it, the potential thrill of getting caught, turned you on more.

Rafe's hands moved to grip your ass under your skirt, roughly palming the fatty flesh with his rough hands. He broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, where he bit down hard enough to leave a mark. "You drive me fucking crazy," he growled.

"Yeah, well you're fucking insufferable," you said breathlessly, tilting your head to the side and threading your fingers into his hair as he continued his assault on your neck.

He grunted in response, his hands squeezing your backside painfully before he pulled away to fumble with his belt, the buckle clanking loudly in the otherwise quiet alley.

As he fiddled with his belt, you took your opportunity to latch your lips onto his neck, the salty taste of his skin mixed with the thin layer of sweat coating him danced on your tongue as you sucked and nipped at the areas you knew would drive him wild.

Rafe's breathing hitched as you marked him, his body stiffening. He finally got his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, shoving them down just enough to free his hard length.

He gripped your thighs, hoisting you up and pressing you hard against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Think you need to learn your place," he said darkly, pulling your panties to the side.

With one swift movement, he thrust deep inside you, filling you completely. He held you pinned against the wall, his hips rolling into yours in deep, punishing thrusts. "You're supposed to worship the ground I walk on," he muttered, his voice ragged.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he began to move, his powerful hips snapping back and forth as he pounded into you. His blue eyes, darkened with lust, locked onto yours, watching your face intently.

"Answer me," he demanded, his voice low and menacing. He slowed his pace, his hips rolling leisurely, his thick length stretching you wide. He knew his slow pace was like torture to you. "Tell me you worship me, baby."

"Fuck," you moaned, your face scrunching in a mix of pain and pleasure as the brick wall dug uncomfortably into your back. "I worship you, Rafe."

A smug grin spread across his face at your words, his pace quickening as he continued to slam into you, his hips rolling in that way that always hit that spot inside you, making you practically see stars. "Good girl," he praised, his lips finding yours again.

Your arms snaked around his neck, fingers curling into his hair and tugging slightly as his mouth swallowed your little whimpers and moans.

He released your mouth, his head tilting down to watch where you were joined. He let out a low groan, his body tensing as he watched himself disappear inside of you. "Look at you taking me so well," he gritted out, his pace quickening.

You gasped when you felt his thumb begin rubbing tight circles on your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. "Such a dirty fuckin' girl," he growled. "Letting me fuck you in an alleyway, behind a police station no less." His lewd words only served to heighten your arousal.

His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you dizzy as he continued to pound into you. "I'm going to fill this pretty little cunt with my cum," he snarled, his voice echoing off the brick walls.

His words paired with his grip on your throat and the way he was pounding into you sent you over the edge, your eyes rolling back as you moaned his name.

His hand on your neck tightened possessively as you came apart for him, his own release following shortly after as he felt your walls squeeze down on him, milking his cock. He buried his face against your neck, his breathing hot and ragged against your skin. "That's my girl."

You panted, your head falling back against the brick as you caught your breath, your mind reeling as the weight of what you'd just done crashed over you. It was reckless and stupid to have let that happen, especially behind the police station you worked at. If anyone saw you, it could raise some serious red flags.

Rafe slowly lowered you back to the ground, pressing one last kiss to your swollen lips before tucking himself back into his underwear and pulling his jeans up, refastening his belt. He leaned against the wall beside you, lighting a cigarette as he looked you over with a lazy smirk. "Try not to look so guilty."

"Don't be an asshole," you shot him a sharp look, fixing your skirt and blouse. Now, you had to go back to work and act as if you didn't have a murderer's cum leaking out of you.

Rafe took a long drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a slow stream. He watched you intently, his eyes glinting with amusement as he observed you straighten your hair and adjust your collar, trying to regain some semblance of professionalism. "I'll pick you up after your shift. We've got a few more things to discuss."

"You can't pick me up here," you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, pushing off from the wall and taking a few slow steps closer to you. "And why not?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. He knew very well why not, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"Don't play dumb, Rafe," you rolled your eyes. He could be so very infuriating when he wanted to be.

"Say it," he insisted, his voice firm. He took another step closer, towering over you. "Tell me why I can't pick you up here." His hand reached up, his fingers brushing against your cheek in a deceptively gentle touch.

You huffed frustratedly, narrowing your eyes at his insistence. "Because you killed Elliot Ryder, and I'm your fucking accomplice," you relented.

Rafe's hand tightened, gripping your cheeks firmly, his touch bordering on painful as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Shhh," he whispered, his voice dark and threatening. "You shouldn't go around saying things like that, baby."

You glared up at him, your annoyance evident in your gaze. Everything always had to be a game with him, and sometimes it utterly maddened you.

Rafe's lips curled into a smirk as he pulled back, his hand falling away from your face. "I'll pick you up around the corner," he said, as if the matter was settled. He took another drag of his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and heading down the alleyway to his car.

You watched him leave, your gaze burning holes into his back for a moment as he retreated before you shook your annoyance away, pulling the back door to the station open and heading back inside.

[bastardbeewoman]

I truly am loving all the dungeon meshi ship fics but I for one CANNOT wait for when the canaries make their anime debut and people get to know them, because I am STARVING for more fics regarding whatever codepent insane polycule and/or found family dynamic all of them have with each other

[kaeyachi]

Pyromaniac Kaeya instead of Pyrophobic Kaeya HC for everyone's consideration:

- Young Kaeya who saw fire and just went "light pretty". His birth father scrambling every time to keep Kaeya from touching open flames

- soon found out how to make fire on his own and now his father is scrambling to stop him from doing so

- hates rain coz no fire! >:( Oh, and his father left him in the rain, right. But mostly coz of no fire!! >:(((((

- ...his father actually waited for a storm to make sure no fire occurred when he left Kaeya

- Crepus approaches a shivering child in the storm, and the child just reaches for him. Turns out Kaeya thought his hair was fire and wanted to touch

- When Kaeya woke up in a warm bed and saw the color red, he thought he died and went to Celestia somehow, turns out it was just a young Diluc staring at him too closely oops

- Kaeya is so envious! He really wants red hair too! (to look more like a Ragnvindr, he swears!)

- When waking up early, he goes to Adelinde to watch her cook food on preeetttyyy fffiiirrreeee

- Started a vineyard fire once. Good thing the staff saw on time before it could do any damage. He wasn't scolded too heavily, but he felt really bad after scaring everyone, and tbh that is the only reason Dawn Winery stands to this day (with several close calls)

- Kaeya, after Diluc got his pyro vision,  enjoyed the fire when they were fighting side by side

- He'd stick really close to Diluc while fighting to the point that Diluc actually subconsciously learned to make his fire avoid Kaeya

- Diluc had to purposely will his fire to aim at Kaeya in their fight :(((

- Diluc is horrified because he sees Kaeya stare straight at the fire unflinchingly :(((

- Kaeya gets his vision, and he finally realizes it was actually raining because suddenly it feels very very cold. Damn he really hates the rain

- he actually wished it were a pyro vision instead and thought that being given a cryo vision was just punishment and added suffering

- for the short time Kaeya stayed in the Dawn Winery while Diluc was away, he actually sat dangerously close to the fireplace. It worried Adelinde and Elzer who kept a careful eye on him

- in his own room in the KOF dormitories, he'd hold onto Diluc's vision to keep himself warm- the underlying power of pyro making him feel safe and happy

- when Diluc's vision started flickering, Kaeya went on a panic. He's scared the fire would be gone forever. Thankfully it ended up ok after a couple of hours, but he hid Diluc's vision on him for a while instead of leaving it in his room

- He was a bit bitter to be parted with said vision when Diluc returned. He decided to be a bit more extra annoying with how he gave the vision back to Diluc out of spite (thru an ugly vase)

- he unfortunately got so used to keeping Diluc's vision near him in his sleep that he ended up having a hard time sleeping for a while in its absence

- No one in the knights realized he's a pyromaniac. They figured he's ok with going near open flames because Diluc had a pyro vision and that since he's a cryo user, he can easily smother the flames when he fights pyro enemies

-Sometimes, he'd start fires himself and throw it onto enemies. The knights just thought "oh hey! A self-made melt reaction! Sir Kaeya is so cool-"

- Jean only realized after giving Kaeya babysitting duty to Klee for the first time. They came back with several reformed landscapes, a large basket of dead fish, and faint sounds of people screaming. Kaeya looked absolutely deranged, grinning ear to ear, with sparkles in his eyes, while carrying Klee, who was equally ecstatic

- "Oh no, what have I done." said Jean in horror after realizing the effects of making Kaeya babysit Klee

- kaeya argued with Jean over him spending time with Klee ( Kaeya somewhat won the argument? But he was told that no major damage should happen under his watch or else no Klee time. Good thing he had a cryo vision then)

- He made Klee her handbook as a guide for when and where they could do explosions. Time to teach his little pyromaniac partner the art of cunning.

- Rosaria figured out he likes fire and passes him the lighter to light up her cigarettes. She ended up gifting him a lighter soon after

- Kaeya has some business late at night sometimes, and that gives him the opportunity to watch the darknight hero in action, which means more fire!

- Diluc realizes that Kaeya watches him sometimes and since he knows Kaeya likes to see fire (to a worrying extent, and that really says something when a pyro user thinks so) he lets the other follow him around for a while

- Kaeya also gravitates towards the other pyro users in town. He enjoys watching Amber do target practice, he likes training Bennett, and again with spending time with Klee

this post is inspired by this reblog tag because I immediately started typing when I saw it like a deranged person myself

[dailykugisaki]

Day 121 | id in alt

They're recreating something that happened on a mission. Gojo is invested. Fushiguro? Lightly shaken.

[haven-gum-rockrose]

When Character A touches Character B's face in any way shape or form>>>>

[starscabaret]

Cowboy Yandere! Lane HeadCanons ✧.*

pairing : yandere! lane x fem reader 

summary :

authors note : i hope yall enjoy pls lmk

warnings : nsfw, breeding, pregnancy, daddy kink 

yandere! lane is a country boy through and through…he eats as much as a prize bull, making him damn near the size of one. Due to his hard labor, he is the perfect blend of muscles and fluff. He is the size kink king.

yandere! lane cannot be convinced to wear a condom or use protection no matter what stage of the relationship y’all are in. He wants a football team of kids and you will have them all.

yandere! lane also won’t wear a condom because the idea of anything separating him from his darling’s insides is infuriating. 

yandere! lane is a true dom, he values your pleasure more than anything. 

yandere! lane size comes into play when he’s pounding your pussy from behind. He tries to hold himself up and not squish you underneath him but somehow his chest always ends up pressed to your back. His arm around your tummy pulling your smaller body onto his cock as he continues his pounding. You couldn’t escape him if you wanted

yandere! lane never suppresses his guttural moans and groans from you. He doesn’t know how to be quiet but neither do you…

yandere! lane lives by the phrase ‘save a horse ride a cowboy’. When you’re on top of him he’s using his hips and hands to bounce you silly on his dick. Or he’s guiding your hips in just the right back-and-forth motion. 

yandere! lane washes his hands of all dirt and grime the second he enters the house, because right after he is going to find you and pick you up for a kiss. “Missed me Dollface? Daddy missed you.”

yandere! lane has rough hard days sometimes. If he’s too tired to fuck you silly he loves to pull you on his lap, lift your legs, and mindless play with and finger your cunt. Your back to his chest his large form looming over you with his chin resting on your shoulder. “Mhm good girl darling, too tired to fuck you properly, but what kind of man would I be if I didn’t pleasure my sweet girl every day?”. He definitely has just gotten off work, still clad in his jeans, hat, boots, and a black t-shirt. 

yandere! lane does not like to see you beg. He’s too soft and believes his darling shouldn’t want for anything, he is very willing to give you anything and everything that you want. Especially his mouth on your pussy.

yandere! lane will fuck you any and everywhere if you let him, god do you look so plump and round in a pair of blue jeans, but those long tight skirts are his favorite. The way they look when it’s pooled around your waist as he plows into you in the back of his truck drives him insane.

yandere! lane prefers that you have most or all of your pubic hair, his pussy just looks so cute with its little bush.

yandere! lane will not pull out no matter how hard you beg and squeeze his bicep, what’s the point of cumming, if it’s not in you?

yandere! lane when he finally gets you pregnant is the happiest man on earth, kiss your job bye bye the day you pee on that stick. You often catch him admiring every part of your body. Below your pregnant belly, he watches intently as his dick slides in and out splitting your perfect cunnie in half. Thinking about how it was just like this he bred you the first time. 

[f1rodrigo]

the mclaren boy mystery

l. norris / o. piastri

summary: in which your boyfriend is a formula one driver for team mclaren and when you finally decide it's time to start hinting to the world, the internet is confused on exactly which driver is your boyfriend. pairing: social media au || lando norris / oscar piastri x reader fc: jazmyn makenna

a/n: made this on a whim instead of studying for exams & doing hw. there will be more parts eventually... i hope you enjoy for the sake of my abandoned school work. (edit hours later) -> omfg i spent all day working on this (literally at the expense of my hw & studying lolol) & i was about to publish it when i went to my drafts & it was just GONE. i was about to be in tears. i tried everything & finally accepted the fact that it was going to be gone forever. BUT i just opened tumblr again & there she was!!!! so so happy. anyways hope you enjoy<33.

sweet relief series | valentine's day drabble

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liked by landonorris, and 22,019 others

yourusername fast cars n pretty girls 💌

view all 671 comments

user1 i have no idea who these girls are but lando is in the likes......

⤷ user2 fr i'm so curious now

⤷ user3 landos girl of the week i suppose 🤣

⤷ user4 prob just ur typical rich girls who spend their weekends at races 🤷🏻‍♀️

yourbestfriend same time next week?

francisca.cgomes gorgeous girls

⤷ yourusername love u kiks

⤷ user5 guys..... i am thinking Thoughts...

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yourusername added to their story

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liked by mclaren, and 542,111 others

oscarpiastri Singapore, the new helmet and I are ready ✨

view all 1,212 comments

mclaren ✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

user1 LETS GOOOOO

user2 oscar piastri singapore gp winner has a nice ring to it

user3 sexy helmet for a sexy man

user4 SLAYYYYYY

yourusername love the new helmet osc liked by author

⤷ user5 now she's in oscars comments wtf

⤷ user6 and he liked 😯

⤷ user7 are f1 drivers not allowed to have friends or something

user8 absolutely loveee 🫶🏻🫶🏻

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liked by oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend, and 44,921 others

yourusername we <3 singapore

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user1 guys this isn't funny anymore WHO IS SHE

⤷ user2 lando's gf

⤷ user3 SERIOUSLY?? HOW DO YOU KNOW

⤷ user2 calm 😭😭😭😭😭😭 i was joking i have no clue but honestly wouldn't doubt it

⤷ user4 would yall call me insane if i said i think she's oscars gf

⤷ user5 yes

⤷user6 hmm im listening

user7 oscar in the likes... after she was in his comments...

user8 full main post of lando AND oscar ffs no shame

⤷ user9 maybe they're friends like wtf is the big deal????

⤷ user10 obvs clout chasing

⤷ user11 literally how 😐

⤷ user12 misogyny thats how 👎🏻

⤷ user13 cmon not even close, no one in the f1 community had any clue who this girl was and one day she starts posting about f1 immediately people start talking about her thinking she's dating lando and then next post she's posting him and oscar like clearly trying to get people to keep talking about her. she more than likely isn't with either of them and is she just cashing in her 15 seconds of fame or trying to live out her wag dream

⤷ user14 not the essay in the instagram comment section bffr

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yourusername added to their story

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landonorris added to their story

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part two

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[tremendum]

Mr. Miller’s House 

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, use of she/her, use of the word girl)    

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)      

word count: 7.6k  requested: yes  summary: “Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months.” warnings: mentions of food/eating, drinking alcohol, age gap (unspecified), Jackson era, Ellie gets a splinter, Joel is honestly rude to Ellie in this and reader is judgy about Joel’s parenting practices lol. but really,  this is just filthy smut (PiV, unprotected), dirty talk, sir kink, use of the word slut a LOT, one use of the word bitch, humiliation/degradation, hints of masochism, choking, exhibitionism, public smut, rough sex, dom!Joel, mean joel, lots of fighting/anger, cumplay, dirty talk, ass spanking, pussy spanking, mentions of blood (reader gets scraped knees), throat/facefucking, rough oral (m!receiving), overstimulation, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms. lmk if i missed any please lmfao

notes: okay jesus fucking christ!!! i wrote this so fasst lol but it was fun and highly requested. hope yall like it.  as always reblogs/asks/comments are always great motivations :’) this is not reread because as i have said before im lazy and INSANE! 

[this is a sequel to Mr Miller.    part three   other Joel fics:     fever       landmines  ]

★  

this was a mistake. you shouldn't have done this....this was a terrible idea. 

fuck. 

the chair is stiff beneath you. there's a hard coolness about it that is welcomed on the skin of your bare legs, the shorts you wear helpful in the heat of summer but futile against the slick of sweat that sheens your skin. the chair is hard, but yet still strong, sturdy.

 you swallow dryly, heart beating fast. it's the same chair you sat at just a few weeks ago, signing the log with Joel leaning over your shoulder, before he-

you look away, around, anywhere in order to avoid the memories, hot and boiling and clawing at your mind and suffocating you until you stop breathing- and then your eyes settle, they glue themselves across the kitchen table. 

they glue themselves to him. 

fuck. 

Joel's already staring at you; his lips are downturned in that permanent grimace he always sports, the muscles of his torso rigid with immobility - perhaps he thinks if he's still enough, the ground will just swallow him whole and he won't have to do this. 

you yearn for that escape as much as he does. 

then, out of the silence; "see, this isn't so bad." 

speak for yourself, Ellie. 

both heads in the room turn to the speaker slowly, the girl watching between the two of you, more than willing to ignore the obvious disdain in the air. she's grinning like a damn devil. 

this girl's going to kill you. 

it is that bad, contrary to Ellie's statement. 

it'd been days of her begging you, with a tug on the hand, a punch to the shoulder, and countless pleads and threats until you finally caved in and accepted her proposal to have her and Joel over for dinner. 

no matter how much you detest her guardian, you just can't resist those big puppy-dog eyes, or that gigantic, youthful smile. 

for the last few months, Ellie has grown to be quite the little farmhand for you; though you like to keep to yourself on your days in the gardens, it was nice to have the girl buzzing around you and the other gardeners, pollinating each person she sees with questions like what really happens in germination and is this ripe? can I pull it? 

it's cute, how excited she is to show Joel all of the crops you've grown with her in the last few months. but what isn't cute, is that it's him that has to be here. of all people, why did Joel have to be the one Ellie chose as her father? 

because.... things weren't okay between you and Joel. 

you're not sure if you were childish for expecting for him to warm up to you after - well, after the time he bent you on this table and fucked you stupid - but you hadn't been prepared for the coldest shoulder you've ever gotten in your measly life for the last few weeks. 

it didn't help that the summer was kicking up and you needed more crops than ever for the commune; your patrolling had dwindled into maybe one or two every week or so, usually with Maria - so you didn't have to face Joel, really, at all. 

but he avoided you like the plague when in town or on your street (though, he did that with everyone) and even at the Tipsy Bison, where your presence would clean him from the room before a drop of condensation could even slide down his glass of whiskey. 

hell, maybe he even put a word in with Maria and Tommy that the last patrol together didn't go as planned; you'd even considered doing it at one point. you're not sure, but it just made you all the more irritated when you'd catch glimpses of their porch in the afternoons, Joel holding a guitar around Ellie's chest, chuckling as she strummed horribly. as if everything was okay. like you didn’t exist. 

the anger and hatred grew awful. 

it festered, grew when Maria mentioned off-handedly to Tommy that some woman, Dahlia, had taken a liking to Joel. you'd nearly shattered the glass you were holding in your fist at that; Joel, with Dahlia? that grumpy piece of shit, taking a liking to someone sweet and kind like her? 

you ought to punch his fucking face. 

you're zoned out when Ellie suddenly comes into your line of sight; reaching over your chest to grab a slice of the fresh bread you'd picked up earlier that day. you blink back into reality as Joel grunts, "E-Ellie, hey." he's shaking his head as he gestures to her arm, "use your manners." 

he sounds almost embarrassed; annoyed. your mind betrays you as it whirls back; when Joel had you pinned down on this very table, commanding you in a different way, his eyes dark with delight as you cried and writhed for him. 

but at his chastising, you send Ellie a sneaky look, rolling your eyes when Joel's looking down. the girl chuckles at that and an untrusting Joel stares daggers between the two of you. Ellie clears her throat with a smirk,  "sorry. can you please pass me the bread?" 

you grin, "why, yes, ma'am." you hand her the basket, "thank you for asking." you add to the girl on your right, your eyes on Joel's. he stares back harshly, hand grabbing for the glass of wine that sits in front of him. 

another few moments of tension before Elie decided to take it upon herself to introduce as much of the food that sits on the table in front of you as she can remember. 

peas, spinach, lentil and cabbage stew, beet salad, goat cheese and roasted carrots, cauliflower mash. fresh bread.

proteins from animals are scarce and are typically served in only the dining hall, so you decided to skip the meat and serve roasted artichoke instead. Joel doesn't look too thrilled about that as Ellie explains. you hide your scoff behind a sip of your dark wine. 

"-and, look, I planted these beets." Ellie points to the bowl on the table which houses arugula and beet salad; you smirk down at the plate as Joel hums as if interested. his eyes flicker to yours from across the table as Ellie delves in on a tangent about how bloody beets look, those dark pupils flickering over your face before flitting back to the young girl. his eyes were swimming with something else, something.... seductive. 

a shiver runs down your spine.

does he ever think about it? 

you do. you think about it every night - how his hands felt, rough, unforgiving; the look on his face, that dark smirk when he'd made you beg for him to ruin you... the frenzy in his eyes when he'd ‘taught you some goddamn manners,’ when he'd taken you apart brutally and quick. Joel was a mean, mean man. and you eat it up like a woman starved for months. 

your name calls you back to Ellie, whose eyes are wide and tracing over a rough, splintered notch in your table, "the hell is this from, is it-" her fingers jolt away at the rugged piece that slides into her skin, "shit!" she yelps, shaking her hand. 

your brows furrow, rising to help her as Joel pulls her hand towards him.  "I have tweezers." you mutter, disappearing into your bathroom to pull out your tweezers, returning to see Ellie smiling in embarrassment and Joel sitting with his arms crossed, amused irritation lacing his face. his beard is growing in more recently - you can hear the noise of the short bristles scratching his hand as he rubs his knuckles over his jawline. 

nodding, pleased that Ellie's discomfort has subsided, you set your tweezers on your right, spearing some salad on your fork as silence cradles you three yet again. 

it’s only tense and silent for a moment. then Ellie speaks, and it’s just tense.

"why is there a notch like that in your table?" she finally wheezes, as if she'd been summoned to be silent until she couldn't handle her curiosity anymore. 

you don't have to look up to know that a pair of dark eyes pin you to your chair, daring you to say something about it. 

your throat dries as you swallow your mouthful of salad, coughing a bit. 

a rip in your flannel, the grazing of your soft skin with the blade. a hand pulling hard to dislodge the knife from its home against you; the thick slide of Joel as he drags his length through your destroyed, spent core. 

"um- I-I" perhaps it's your panic, of the knowledge that his eyes are glued to you, but soon your eyes meet his; unwavering. "well. someone likes to threaten people when they can't find patrol logs." 

"Joel!" Ellie hisses, smacking his arm, "you fucking stabbed her table and didn’t do anything about it?” she’s grinning. 

"yeah, Joel," you smirk, swirling with desire as his hawkish gaze pins you to your chair, "you really should use your manners. you've ruined my table." 

"shut the hell up right now." he snaps at you, hand slamming his fork down harshly onto the plate. you and Ellie both jump at the sternness in his voice. 

you listen, for once. 

and honestly, ten minutes ago feels like heaven compared to the tenseness of this silence. 

several minutes go by, the sounds of scraping forks and knives and the meager attempts by you and Ellie to salvage a decent dinner conversation ringing soft in your kitchen. 

at least you and her are trying. 

you ignore the notch from the knife like a wildfire and pretend Joel isn't even with you; Ellie is more than enough life and laughter for you, and your playful disposition matches hers perfectly despite the joy-damper of a man sat across from you. 

he's stewing. arms crossed, chewing on food here and then, mostly listening and sighing, brushing off Ellie's jabs or playful questions or stories. he won't do anything except eat and glare at you. 

the wine bottle is nearly gone and you're not sure if it's his fault or yours. probably both. 

you snap when he just outright ignores Ellie, shaking his head with a sigh and taking another bite. the audacity. 

"-she asked you a question, Miller." you snap, fed up with his dissociative disposition. you don't even intend to say it; even Ellie looks up at your words, surprised. 

his head turns to face you too slow to be safe. his eyes are fucking furious as he mutters, "excuse me?" 

"hey, guys-" Ellie's hands are out in front of her, but you can't take your eyes off him. 

"I'm just saying, you could at least try to pay attention." you spit, crossing your arms defensively, "we made this dinner, we're just trying to have a conversation, the least you could do-" 

"you don't tell me what to do." he states, calm and cool, pointing at you. his nose flares as he breaths heavy, your own breath quickening. arousal rushes to your center and you shift on your seat. 

"-listen, maybe this was a bad idea. I knew you weren't the best of friends, but this is-" Ellie starts again, eyes flickering between you both. "this is too awkward." 

"no, Ellie, I'm sorry-" you start to say, breaking. 

you don't want her to be caught in the cross-fire of your problems with Joel; it's unfair. the further this goes, the more she'll be put in a position of mediator, so you figure it should just end now. 

"Ellie, go home." 

Joel growls the demand, eyes looking to her, his hand falling gently to her shoulder. her eyes widen, as if asking him if he's serious. 

"what?" she asks, "no! you'll-you’ll fucking stab each other or something." 

yeah, you think. you might. 

Joel's shaken off her shoulder but he's resilient, "go on, go see the kids for the movie. I'll come later. we just need to sort something out." he mutters, eyes falling to you at the tail end of his sentence. 

shivers roll down your spine; fuck, fuck - a flood of arousal hits you again, and you swallow, willing the feelings to go the fuck away. 

Ellie's scowling, but still has the decency to thank you for dinner before slamming the door hard on her way out of the threshold. 

Joel's eyes stay locked with yours until her footsteps are gone. 

it’s silent for a moment before he speaks. 

"do not fuckin' disrespect me like that in front of her again." he snaps. 

you narrow your eyes, "you're concerned that I- what, I undermined you in front of your girl?" you hiss incredulously. "come on, that's pathetic." 

"I don't like you." he snaps, shoving his plate away from him in an almost childish act of defiance. it’s shocking, the immaturity of his words so sudden. barely prompted. 

it's clear he intends to continue this little confessional of his, but you have no intention of allowing that. 

you roll your eyes, "big fucking deal. what do you want me to say?" you hiss, "sorry that I was rude, Mr. Miller! let me just cook you fucking dinner and invite you over to make up for it." 

his nostrils flare, "never wanted to do this in the first place." he mutters. 

you nearly rip out your hair in frustration. "obviously you didn't! christ, why do you always act like everything you do is a goddamn chore?" you snap, "Ellie wanted to have a nice night and show you what we've been doing- what she's been doing for this community. and all you can do is sit here and act like a fucking asshole because you don't know how to enjoy anything. it's a miracle she's still around with you, when you treat her like that." 

his jaw clicks in anger, "you have no fuckin' clue what we've been through together." his voice is close to a yell, "you don't know how much that girl means to me." 

"then why won't you show her!?" you yell. 

it quiets the room for a moment and a fleeting feeling of pride is squashed when he speaks again. 

his brows raise, a look of realization creeping onto his face. he nods his head, "I see what this is," he lets out a bitter, mocking laugh. "you want me to tell you how much I love your food? y'trying to prove to me that you're not a bad influence on her, after all?" 

you stare at him, anger clouding your sight; are there tears of frustration rimming your eyes? you hope he doesn't notice. 

"-newsflash, darlin', I don't fucking care about you." he finishes, scowl dark. "you're a nuisance. don' know why Tommy took you in, anyways. you're a foul-mouthed, untrustworthy, pathetic little slut- and jus' because you can't stop thinking about my cock doesn't mean I owe anything to you. no dinner, no fuckin- cordial neighborly attitude, nothing." 

thinking about- what?

oh, fuck him. your face burns; your jaw unhinges. of course he thinks this is about you and him. your eyes spare a quick, fleeting glance to the notch in the table before you glare, "well I don't fucking care about you either, Miller. don't be so fucking conceited." 

he laughs, shaking his head as he downs the remainder of his wine before slamming the glass down, but you're not finished. you can't let him think he's won. 

"you’re delusional. I haven't thought of it once." you spit, aflame at his accusation. you feel flustered, still caught off-guard. if anything, it was him who was obsessed with it - you see the way his eyes can't leave you; the way he adjusted his jeans earlier when you leaned over to pull a bowl from your cabinet. 

"really?" he spits, brows raised. his chest moves with the exertion of your yelling and you resist the urge to hit him or stomp your foot or anything. "yes, really." you defend, face heating up under the scrutiny of his knowing gaze. 

"anyone ever tell you you're an awful liar, sweetheart?" he drawls, raising his brows at you. 

you fume, standing up, pointing to the door, "get the fuck out, Joel." 

his eyes light ablaze with the same anger that rages in your heart as he stands, throwing his napkin on his plate, "gladly. food was great." he spits, storming out of the house with no other words. 

-- 

your scowl doesn't leave your face for the entire rest of the night. what- what the fuck was that? how dare Joel assume so much about you- he doesn't know you, at all. 

your eyes fall to the bottle in your hands.

ellie left her water canteen at your place. you were so angry, so mad earlier, that you hadn’t realized she’d left it until a few minutes ago. 

she doesn't need it, right? she could get it next time she comes round. yeah. she'll get it next time, you don't have to go over. right?

no. 

you have to go over. 

the anger within you festers just as much as the slick that plagues the apex of your thighs in the aftermath of your spat with Joel; it's a vicious cycle where you think about his tone, how condescending it was and then you get mad - but some sick part of you wants it to consume you; wants him to consume you. 

you’re fucking obsessed with him. you hate him. 

you need to hear him yell at you again- if-if anything, to get your ten cents in on the argument, and also maybe to get some good content for your wet dreams tonight. jesus christ. 

god, you're so fucked up. 

christ. 

so once you finish cleaning from the remnants of the meal, your legs are carrying you over to his house with Ellie's canteen in your hand before you can second-guess it. 

what the fuck are you doing? 

you're standing on their porch in mere seconds, your breath heavy with wrath. what if Ellie opens the door? well- you suppose, if she does, you'll give her the canteen and talk to her. probably apologize for acting the way you did. no business with Joel, then. yeah.  that’s... that’s fine. 

fuck. why do you want Joel to answer so terribly? 

you know where the answer lies - a coiling beast of arousal, consuming and muddling your mind, just at the apex of your thighs. 

Joel is a fucking asshole. you need him. now. 

your knuckles slam so hard and unforgiving against their door that there is no possibility of them assuming it's anybody else but you at their porch. their light is flickering and dim above you as you stand, canteen in hand, eyes trained forward in determination.  

the door swings open in an air of irritation. 

your face jerks back as Joel Miller stands, staring at you with the disdain of a thousand lifetimes swirling around his eyes. 

"y'here for more?" he snarks. 

your momentary hesitation melts away when his words drip from his lips. a glare pierces him through the eyes when you shove the canteen into his hands, "I'm here for Ellie. she left this." you spit. 

he lets out a chuckle, humor absent from the ring as he scratches his nose, "right." he mutters. "well she ain't home. went to the movie in town." he clips, setting the canteen on the table just inside the house. "y'need me to pass any more of your words of wisdom on to her?" he asks, voice clipped and prickled with sarcasm. 

you glare. "yeah. just do me a favor, tell her I'm sorry her dad is being a hypocritical, neglecting asshole." you snark, sending a false smile up at him as he leans with his arms crossed at the doorway.

you don't miss how he leans into it, how he's not slamming the door on your face. he wants to argue, too. "-and you can suck a dick, Mr. Miller." you add, intending to whirl away on your heel. 

he scoffs, a deep and condescending noise. "thanks for comin' all the way over to return a little canteen. g'night, darlin', hope you don't make too much'a mess when you cum all over that table again tonight thinkin' of how much I hate you. glad y'got your ten cents in." 

your face burns hot in embarrassment, and at the irony of him using the same phrase you’d thought. 

the door moves quick to shut, but your arm moves quicker. 

your hand wedges is just before it shuts, leaving you far too close to Joel than you'd like - gunpowder, pine, and dark amber whiskey surround your senses. again. 

so you shoot another fist forward, aiming for his left jaw; aiming for it to hurt.

he’s going to fucking hurt.  

it doesn't make contact with the warm skin, though: no, his hand has caught your wrist in an iron-tight grip, wrenching your arm down hard. 

you let out a gasp of surprise as he shoves you off of the door and away from him before you can blink. 

but instead of the door slamming in your face, his rough hands are pushing you hard up against the side of his garage. the door behind him remains ajar as he pushes himself into your space, growling at you as your mouth falls open in shock. 

"did you just try to hit me, girl?" he whispers, voice deadly serious. you swallow, arousal rushing down to your heat; you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy as he stares hard at you, but your eyes trail down to his jeans.

you hide your smirk as you take in the stretch of the rough denim, the outline of his own arousal evident even in the dim light. he’s hard because you were going to hit him. 

your body aches as you remember the stretch of him inside you, splitting you open. your eyes flicker back up to his where he breathes heavily, expecting a response. 

you give him one. 

"yes, but you already knew that." you smirk, cocking your head as you boldly gyrate your hips forward slightly, your clothed cunt clenching in desire as you graze his hard-on. "or are you not hard right now, Mr. Miller?" you purr, your voice laced with seduction. 

his rough hand shoves your hips hard back against the wall, a growl slipping his throat. "y'got a dirty fuckin' mouth on you." his breath hits your cheeks in a warm reminder of the wine you'd both had for dinner. 

"so it wasn't because of that?" you ask, blinking in a false sense of innocence, watching as his eyes swim with an animalistic hunger. you've got him right where you want him. "was it from thinking about me touching myself? or, from remembering the last time we were together in my house?" 

his momentary lapse in recovery allows for you to go in for the final kill, "Mr. Miller,” you coo, “do you think of my pussy when you fuck Dahlia? d'you wish it was me?" you spit, smirking up at him as red splatters his furious features, "you can talk all you want, Mr. Miller, but I know you're just a greedy, desperate man who loves to pretend you have any power over me." you whisper into the shell of his ear, palm roughly grabbing the outline of his cock boldly. 

his next movements take your breath away: the shock of his fists slamming hard against the wall on either side of your head makes you jump, and his hawkish, angry eyes bore into yours. 

"get your fuckin' hands off of me. now." 

his voice is... scary. 

the blood leaves your head as your damp spot of your pants floods with desire, the fear spiking a real excitement in you. you are smart enough to follow his orders; the look in his eyes suggests you do so. 

your hands shakily fly back from his crotch to hang by your sides as you stare up at him - nervous. excited, ready. 

his eyes are narrowed, stern as his brows are furrowed low. the permanent scowl on his lips is intimidating as he holds your gaze with fierce intent. "you're gonna be real fuckin' honest with me, now. okay?" 

you swallow dryly, staring up at his face, how he's boxed you in with arms on either side of your head. you feel cornered, small; prey, hunted by predator. 

you nod smally, startled into silence, unable to speak as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable. your legs clench, searching for relief only to be disappointed at the dull sensation. 

he stares at you for a few moments, unmoving except for the flaring of his nostrils and the rising of his chest as he breathes just as heavy as you. 

"are you wet?" 

your face flushes with heat. christ, Joel is going to kill you. (if you don't kill him first). your legs feel weak, desire driving your heart rate up as you nod meekly, voice cracking out. "y-yes." 

he nods, seemingly pleased with your honesty. 

"how long have you been walkin' round with ruined panties?" his head tilts down slightly, angled down at you as if chastising you. you flush in shame, genuinely taking a moment to remember the exact moment you first noticed your underwear dampen. 

you can't admit to him that you woke up this morning with his name on your lips and a wet patch on the seat of your sleep shorts, can you? (and certainly not that it happens every day.) 

"s-since-" you take a sharp inhale, glaring at him for humiliating you like this - outside, no less. anybody could walk past or look out their window and see Joel and you like this. "dinner." 

his brows raise, the look darkening on his face. you can tell, he loves the beginning - the teasing, the arguing, the embarrassment - just as much as the end. "dinner? s'like, two hours." his frown immodest, tempting. judging. 

you nod, biting back a snide comment about Joel being an excellent time-teller, your face burning in embarrassment as you break eye contact, staring at your feet. 

"d’you like being a slut?" he asks, then. you nearly whimper at his words, the aching in your cunt burning, pulsing and clenching around nothing as you stare at him in desire. fuck Joel Miller. 

"'m not a slut." you say, but the defiant words come out more as a whine than a sharp argument. one hand falls from the wall on your left to grip onto your jaw, holding your cheeks hard as he forces your eyes back up to him. 

his nails dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as you gasp, your own hands in fists as you resist pulling him into you. 

"that's not what I fuckin' asked, now, is it?" he sneers. you blink up at him, shaking your head after a moment of contemplation. "no, sir." you whisper meekly. you don't miss the tightening of his grip at the honorific as it falls sultry from your lips. he hums. 

"do you want me to touch you?" he asks next. you can't even have the decency to stop your whine as you nod, "yes, please." 

his other hand falls from the wall, eyes just as angry and unforgiving as he undoes the button on your shorts single-handedly. "good. don't you fuckin' look away from my eyes, y'hear me? hands down, eyes up." 

this is twice now that he hasn't let you touch him - your brows furrow, but just as he snaps in front of your face, you let the thought melt away. 

"y-yes, sir." you nod, your palms sweaty, heart thundering as he shoves his hand down the front of your shorts, breaching your underwear easily as fingers slide through the deft curls that lie just above your heat. 

"gotta warm y'up for me this time," he mutters, eyes sharp as he watches yours, ensuring they don't do as much as blink. 

it's delicious, almost too much as two of his thick fingers part the seam of your lips, your wetness spilling and coating his fingers immediately. you burn in shame, thighs starting to close over his hand. 

one ruddy, thick thigh slides to kick your leg to the side, widening your stance as he shoves you harder up against the side of the house. the tip of his finger prods at your aching hole, leaking with desperation for him. 

there are crickets outside, a steady but low staccato of music filling the summer Jackson air as one finger slowly slides into you, curling unforgivingly as you gasp, rising on your toes as he stretches you. "fuck," you whimper, throwing your head back against the wall behind you. 

the thud is dull, but it echoes around the street and it calls your attention to the very public space you're in. 

"hey." Joel snaps, one hand swatting your cheek lightly as your eyes close, "don't look away." 

you blink back at him as he pumps lazily for a few moments, watching your every micro-expression, the way your chest stutters with his motions. the noise of your arousal is humiliating against the pleasant summer breeze. 

you can't help the low moan of his name when he adds a second finger. the stretch is nothing like when it's his cock inside of you, but the strokes, the curl of his fingers start to coax a simmering coil in you that you know will explode soon. 

your eyes are still on his obediently when you nearly whisper it. 

he hears it, though, and smirks, "what was that, darlin’?" 

you groan in irritation but it splinters into a sharp moan when his fingers pick up their pace, fucking into you as you lie slack against the wall, legs trembling. 

"just- fuck me. fuck me now." you wheeze, the desire a burning snake that coils around your chest and squeezes at your heart. 

"no." he decides, eyes glaring, "can't have y'whining like a bitch again, darlin'. gotta open you up on my fingers first." the sting of his words are cushioned by the lust that swirls around his voice, the languid was his thick fingers pump up into you, holding you up against the frame of the house with a dark smirk. 

you nod, hissing in stimulation when one finger slides to start rubbing your neglected clit with just enough pressure to curl your toes; your chest is slick with sweat, fingernails digging painfully into the meat of your palm as you hum, lips sealed tight to avoid yelping out. 

your eyes flicker from his once more, scanning the street just feet away from you, paranoid of the possibility of a neighbor seeing you. 

Joel notices, of course. "what, baby, don' want the neighbors to see?" he hums, eyes cutting into you as your face flushes with heat, "y'seemed to want everybody to hear me fucking you stupid last time, didn't 'ya?" 

you groan, "fuck you, Joel." 

his hand stops its ministrations just as cold ice pours down your spine. oh, shit. 

his hand slides out of your pants, face furious. 

you shake your head, eyes welling with tears; you hadn't meant for it to slip out like that. "n-no, wait, 'm sorry, didn't mean it." you whimper, voice choked with the loss of his hand. 

he just huffs a cold chuckle, wiping his hand over his face, the other one glistening with your juices under the light of the porch. 

your panicked, desperate babble of apologies is stopped with one look from him. 

"get on your goddamn knees now." 

you shiver with excitement, tears drying slightly as you swallow, complying quickly. the cement is rough and cold under your bare knees, your hands held still together on your thighs as you stare up at him in wait. he stands tall before you; the shroud of the flickering porch light emboldening him, making him look like a god - an unforgiving one, at that - as he pulls his thick, pulsing cock from his jeans. 

your mouth waters as he starts to pump it languidly, the tip a red color from arousal, leaking precum. 

he doesn’t have to ask you to open your mouth for him, your own desire to taste him spurring you to stick your tongue out flat in wait for his dick. 

"I'm going to ask you again." he says, tapping your tongue with the weight of his length, the slapping noise flooding your underwear as you ache to feel him again. "do you like being a slut?" 

you swallow, tongue sliding along the bottom of his head as you do, muttering a slight, "yes, sir." 

"'s right. you love being my slut." he nods, your mouth open and ready for him as he thrusts his whole length into your wet, warm mouth; you gag almost immediately, his hips unforgiving as he immediately starts to fuck into your throat. you try your best to breathe through your nose, gagging as his tip pokes the back of your throat - you know there'll be a bruise that will make it painful to eat, drink, speak - you fucking love it. 

he lets out a grunt of arousal, nodding as his hands gather your hair from your face, gripping your cheeks and pushing your head back against the side of the house. 

two thrusts, a few tears from your eyes as you choke, your lungs burning for air. 

he pulls away, you suck in air with a strangled gasp. your saliva links you to his heavy cock, a chain that holds you in his grasp. "tell me you love being my slut." 

you burn at his words and in your brief hesitation, his cock is slapping at your mouth, his impatience bleeding through his actions. 

"I-" your voice is wrecked after only a few seconds of him in your mouth, but you swallow as you gasp for air, "I l-love being your slut." 

he slides himself through your slick lips again, hips a punishing pace as he fills up your mouth, your throat tight and wet. his groan echoes through the street; in the corner of your eye, you swear you see a light turn on in a bedroom window. shivers of desire run through you as you resist the urge to touch yourself. 

you can't breathe; your nose brushes against the course hair at the base of his shaft, the scent of him surrounding you as his hips try to smash you against the side of the house. 

he holds you there, hands rough on your cheeks, slapping your right cheek as it bulges with his length. you choke, gagging as you try your hardest to keep eye contact. his face is harsh, his sneer cold as he stares at you, "'s right, choke on your fuckin' words, darlin'." his hips press forward slightly and you cough around him, it's too much - tears slide down your cheeks as you try not to gag more. 

"you gonna disrespect me again?" he asks, tilting his head as spit trails down your chin, tears meeting the trail of saliva as it drips down onto your chest. 

you can only hum a nuh-uh around his cock, hoping it's enough to satisfy him. you feel yourself throb and fucking burn with need, your knees sore from the cement under you. 

you cough and sputter when he pulls himself away from you, mouth sore, jaw aching and throat wrecked. his eyes flicker over to the house across the street before he grips your shoulder, tugging you in your aroused, dazed state up to your legs. 

"oh, darlin', you're bleedin'." he coos at you, thumb swiping your cheek as you stand up. he's right: your knees are just scratched enough to speckle the skin with dark splotches of blood. you feel a tingling sensation of arousal as he hums, "let's get you inside, hm?" 

you stumble to keep up as he storms through the threshold of the house, the door swinging shut after your shaking frame falls inside. it's dark; there is only one lamp turned on in the other room. 

Joel is almost a shadow as he surrounds you, your hands falling onto his large, stiff shoulders as he pushes you against the door frame. 

your legs give out from desire soon and the two of you tumble to the ground, a mess of grunts and shoves, tearing at clothes as you whimper in desire, his own lustful groans echoing the empty house. as his pants are shucked off and your shorts are thrown across the room, your hips are shoved and flipped over until you're ass-up for him, one of his large hands moving roughly to grab a handful of your plush behind. 

your hands and knees ache, but you wiggle your ass slightly in need, not daring to speak to him. the anger that radiates from the two of you is a grenade; you can feel the tension bubbling behind your desire and so you just move back until you brush against his hard length, the fabric of your panties completely soaked as you grind against him. 

his moan echoes as a hand falls hard to slap against the skin of your ass. you let out a strangled yell, the pain stinging through you as you keen forward. you know there will be a handprint branded into you, you know it'll be sore to sit and you'll have to think of him each time. he'll consume you for days. 

you love it. 

his fingers tease the wet material that's glued to your pussy with desire, tracing over your lips lightly over the fabric. "pretty cunt, just for me." he mutters; you shake with desire when you realize it was more a mutter for him than an intentional phrase for you to hear.

"think you're ready for me, baby?" he grunts, his fingers pulling your underwear to the side, exposing your puffy, glistening cunt to him. 

"I'm so re-ready sir, please, fuck me." you beg, reduced yet again to nothing but a writhing mess for the worst man you know. 

he gives no warning, no teasing - he breaches you swiftly and rough. you scream. 

it cracks, it echoes, it's painful as you yell out, his cock heavy and huge and aching as he slides into you, sheathing you fully within a few seconds. Joel's moan reverberates on your skin as his hands grip so hard at your ass you think his fingers will remain there for days. 

he immediately sets a pace that has you squirming under him, breath choking up in your chest as you slide against the hardwood. the smell of the house is Joel - sandalwood, whiskey, pine. sex. 

your arms are tugged roughly. 

panic rises in you when you think you're about to slam your face against the floor, but as Joel pounds hard into you, he pulls your hands tight to your back, holding you up to you're suspended with just his cock working you open can keep you from falling. 

it's bliss. it's sharp, this angle; he hits into that spongy spot inside you as his cock drags against your pulsing walls, your hands clenching as your breath leaves you. 

one hand sneaks over your front, grasping at your tits as he reaches up into you deeply. then it snakes lower, rocking you forward as he swats at your clit, the sharp smack of his palm causing you to squeeeeeze around him, trapping him in your aching desire. he lets out a grunt, "fuckin'- jesus christ, girl, you're s-so tight."

the noises of your arousal swallowing his dick echo around the room in a sickening chorus. 

"dumb girl, lovin' it when I yell at her," he mutters to himself, chasing your high as he feels it spasming close around him. "gonna be o-obedient and thank me for each orgasm, 'kay?" his accent is thick in the throes of passion, you notice. 

you nod, unable to speak, unable to think as you feel the crest of something incredibly blissful; you let out a wheeze of ecstasy. "y-yes, s-sir," you choke, your voice croaking from the remnants of his dick wrecking you. 

you barely realize you're cumming until you’re screaming, a white-hot, searing arousal streaking your vision. tears are resurfacing on your eyes as he hums, "say it." 

you swallow, shakily squirming as he pounds into you, unforgiving in tone and pace. "than-thank you." 

it only takes a few more minutes and his thick hand squeezing your throat before you cum for a second time, your hands pulling at his hips, trying to escape the overstimulation of his long, dragging thrusts. the floor is slick with your juices, and so is his pubic bone. 

"thank you, s-sir." you slur out, his hand holding you by the throat against his chest, his heartbeat slamming just as fast as yours. 

soon he drops your arms, their shaky muscles barely stopping you as you fall to the floor. his chest follows you until he's smothering you, thrusts becoming weak with his own nearing orgasm. you cry, the overstimulation causing you to shake. "'s too much, too much." 

he hums, "you want me to stop?" 

"no!" you scream it, wail it; no, christ, don't stop. never stop. 

he chuckles; a dark, brooding noise. "an' you wonder why I think you're such a bad influence." he mutters into the shell of your ear as he pushes further, deeper into you; "lettin' an old man fuck you into the floor. lovin' it." 

he chuckles as you let out a whine, eyes screwing shut at the bursts of pleasure coursing through you. your knees ache.

"'s dirty, isn't it? and you love it, pretty girl." 

you let your cheek drop onto the hardwood at his ministrations, spent from your previous orgasms; the pet name makes you flush, arching your hips back. he's so deep, you feel him in your throat. each thrust pushes his tip into your cervix, a dull ache with a swirl of pleasure and ecstasy. you let out a groan, "love it, love it s'much. love it, sir, thank you." you whimper, your brain empty except for Joel Joel JoelJoel-

"good m-manners, sweet girl." he hums, pressing a hot kiss to your spine. goosebumps form in his wake, his words echoing in your brain. sweet girl. 

"you're gonna cum one more time." he orders, the thrusts of his hips grinding you down, melting you, tearing you. you nod, "yes, yes-yes, fuck, gonna-gonna cum again." you whimper, the painful overstimulation of his cock drilling through your spent, swollen folds. 

your third orgasm has you wailing, shaking your head as you convulse in pleasure, his strong grip holding your hips down as he hits your spot repeatedly, the noise of him fucking into you echoing through the foyer. 

there's tears on the floor as you shake, colors exploding behind your eyes as he whispers things you cannot hear into your ear. 

when you come to, he's still ravaging your body. 

you're limp, ecstasy flowing through your very being as his cock spears through you, hands smacking you, gripping you, grunts leaving his mouth as he nears his own orgasm, having pulled three from you. 

"where are your manners?" he whispers into your ear. you let out a broken half-laugh, half-gasp. "fuck- thank you, Joel, thank you." 

he hums in satisfaction and you swear you feel his cock twitch inside you as you utter his first name. 

he's back in your ear in seconds, surrounding you, swallowing you whole. you love it. 

"this is my pussy. mine." he grunts, "never think 'bout any other pussy. jus' this one. always." his voice is laced with desperation as he swats your ass, thrusting into you a few more times as you squirm, sobbing, throat raw. 

yours, you whimper in a chorus, body limp as he uses you; his thrusts are sloppy. he's so close- 

and he cums just as he's pulling out of you; you gasp at the loss but also as his cum shoots hot spurts across the plush curve of your ass, a bit onto your spine - most of it over your ruined pussy, streaking you in white. 

you pulse around nothing, shaking as your legs give out. he groans a deep thing, fingers falling to spread you open, the lewd noise soft and slick.

you jolt and he shushes you with a soft caress of your back. "jus' wanna see it, baby. wanna see how I ruined you." 

you swallow dryly at that, nodding as you tilt your hips, eager to feel his eyes over you, over all of you; eager for him. 

a finger smears his spend over your juices, pressing lightly at your puckered hole, pushing some of his cum back into you. "fuckin' christ, girl." 

you set out a laugh that turns into a cough of pain at the ragged state of your throat. 

he stands and leaves you on the cold floor, covered in sweat. you try not to let your heart deflate when he’s gone. 

but he returns with a rag and hands it to you before shucking his jeans on; you pull your underwear back on with shaky hands once you’ve wiped yourself clean, your body exhausted. 

you sigh. even the thought of making the trek just a few houses down to your own place is daunting as your eyes flutter. something in his eyes glint in understanding when your gazes meet each other, and he seems to get it. 

so if Joel gathers you in his arms with a grunt and a short complaint, you don't think too much about it. 

(you hate him. he hates you.)

and if he holds your head to his chest as he starts the walk back to your house, it’s not a big deal to you. 

when brings you up into your bedroom instead of leaving you at your front door as he finally carries you to your house, you chalk it up to you being nearly asleep. you must be delirious when he tucks you into your mattress and pulls your blankets up. you swear he mutters something about dinner and nice and good job. 

(what a cocky asshole.) 

it's probably a dream, when a hand caresses the sweaty skin of your forehead, brushing hair away gently before footsteps disappear through the doorway. 

. part three .

requests open

. 

[ginax0916]

₊✧ 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞 ✧₊

Chris Sturniolo x hurt!gf!reader

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Chris’s gf’s ankle is broken and he helps her even when she doesn’t need help.

*I got the idea of writing this from their recent Wednesday video where Chris tried to help Matt down the stairs*

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

“So what did the doctor say?” My boyfriend Chris asks as I walk back into the waiting room where he waits with his brothers.

“Well if you couldn’t already tell by the boot on my foot, my ankle is broken” I sarcastically say.

“Oh shit. What even happened?” Matt asks.

“My dumbass got on the kitchen counter to reach something from the top shelf and when I jumped down I landed on it wrong and then I heard a crack and well yall know the rest” I sigh limping to them.

“Yo you sure you’re good to walk all the way to the car love?” Chris asks holding me up by my waist.

“Oh by the way y/n it would be good to invest in crutches for the first few days! Forgot to mention that earlier” The doctor says as she walks out into the waiting room to call her next patient.

“Does that answer your question?” I laugh.

We sign the papers I needed to be discharged and both Chris and Matt help me limp back to the car since I refuse to be carried like a baby.

“I’m gonna stop at Walgreens because they sell crutches there I’m pretty sure” Matt says.

“But I don’t want crutches” I sigh for the hundredth time.

“Y/n the doctor literally walked out to tell you that you need crutches. We’re buying them” Nick retorts.

“Fine whatever” I slouch down in defeat.

“Ok we’re here. Y/n stay in the car so you don’t have to walk all the way there. Do you want anything else?” Matt questions.

“Can you get me some nerd gummy clusters please? Oooh and a bottle of raspberry Iced Tea if there is any” I smile.

“Of course kid” Matt smiles back.

“I’ll stay with her in the car” Chris says.

“Alright just don’t be making out once we get back” Nick rolls his eyes as he closes the door.

“How you feel ma? Does it hurt?” Chris asks and rubs my thigh.

“I’m okay. And no it doesn’t hurt it feels fine actually” I say.

“Alright then that’s good” I nod in agreement.

“So how am I meant to fuck you with your broken ankle”

“Chris! Why is that your first concern” I laugh.

“I literally asked if it hurt 2 seconds ago!” He lifts his hands in defense.

“Wow makes such a difference Christopher” I slap his arm.

“See! Fucking you was not my first concern initially” He points his finger at me laughing.

“Yea but it was your second which is insane” I giggle.

“Come on don’t act like it wasn’t yours” He smiles sheepishly.

“Oh shut up Chris” I laugh again.

“Oh good you’re both decent” Nick says startling us as he opens the car door.

“Come on we aren’t that immature Nick” Chris says.

“Oh trust me you are Christopher” Nick pats him on the shoulder.

“What’s with people and calling me Christopher today damn” Chris turns back around in his seat.

“Y/n I got you the ice tea you wanted and along with the candy. And unfortunately they were out of stock of crutches so they let us order them online so they should arrive in like 2-3 days” Matt comments as he gets in the car handing me my stuff.

“Thanks Matt” I say. “I can go 2-3 days without walking I’m sure” I chuckle.

“I can just carry you around” Chris speaks up.

“What a delight” I sarcastically say.

“Oh come don’t act like you don’t already ask me to carry you around because you’re too lazy” He says slightly offended by my joke.

“I’m joking baby of course I don’t mind being carried around by you” I giggle.

—

“I’m gonna go pick up Canes for dinner is that good with you guys?” Matt yells from the garage.

“Yes that’s perfect thanks Matt!” I yell back.

“Wait I wanna come with you I’m bored and you always get my order wrong any way” Nick says while running down the stairs to join Matt.

“See ya guys!” Nick says.

“Bye Nick!” Both Chris and I say back.

“So what do you wanna do mama?” Chris asks, sitting down on the couch with me.

“I’m not sure. What is there to do?” I turn my body to be facing Chris and I lay my head of the cushions behind me.

“We could watch a movie, watch YouTube, play a board game or just talk. Whatever you want baby” Chris says, grabbing both my legs and draping them over his lap careful to not hurt my ankle.

“Ummm I’m not sure. But I have to pee” I say getting up. Slightly wincing at the pain of my foot touching the ground.

“C’mere” Chris mumbles, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom.

“Thank you Chrissy” I kiss him on the cheek.

“You’re welcome and don’t call me that again” He laughs.

“Can you take my pants off for me please?” I pout.

“Oh now you’re just being a baby. Your hands work perfectly fine” Chris rolls his eyes.

“Fine me the injured person who could die any second will pull her owns pants down god” I dramatically say.

“Oh shut up and go to the bathroom babe” Chris says walking out of the bathroom laughing.

As I finish I limp into the kitchen where Chris leans against the counter.

“Hey you’re not meant to be walking you should’ve called me” Chris says picking me up and setting me on the countertop.

“I swear I’m okay love” I smile cupping his cheeks.

“Yea well the boot on your foot says otherwise” He says and grabs my waist pulling me into a warm hug.

“I love your hugs” I say nuzzling closer into him.

“And I love hugging you” He mumbles, kissing my cheek.

“Can we go to your room and watch a movie while Nick and Matt get back?” I politely ask.

“Of course we can ma” Chris smiles helping me down from the counter.

“Alright c’mon I’ll carry you down the stairs baby” He comments as he bends down ready to pick me up.

“No wait I want to do it myself” I shake my head.

“Babe the doctor said you had to be in crutches you most definitely can’t go down the stairs by yourself” Chris sighs annoyed at my stubbornness.

“Please baby? I swear I can do it” I give him my best puppy eyes to convince him.

“No don’t look at me like that ma you know I’m gonna cave” Chris covers his face with his hands.

“I’m taking that as a yes” I giggle.

“But I will be right behind you and I’m going to pick you up the second I see you stumble understood?” Chris sternly says.

“Yes I understand” I smile.

I step one foot on the first step and then the next, grabbing tightly onto the rail I limp my way down to the 4th step. Only about 15 left oh god. I thought I could do it but it hurts really bad. There’s a stinging pain on my ankle every time I step. It’s bringing tears to my eyes. But I don’t want Chris to think that I’m weak and I can’t do it. But god does it hurt. It’s getting obvious that I can’t do it, I whimper in pain every time step, tears threatening to fall. I bring my hand up to wipe my eyes but I also stepped at the same time. I lose my balance and almost fall but Chris catches me. Oh fuck.

“Hey hey I got you, you’re ok” Chris picks me up bridal style and goes the rest of the way down to his room with me in his arms. My head resting on the crook of his next softly crying. I’m not even sure if it’s because of embarrassment or pain, maybe both.

He sets be down on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of me.

“What’s wrong baby, why’re you crying that pretty makeup away hm?” Chris sweetly asks, moving my hair out of my face.

“I just- I didn’t want you to think I was weak and couldn’t do it myself” I quietly replied with my voice cracking.

“Oh baby you’re not weak. You just have a literal broken ankle. Asking for help sometimes is never being weak ok? I will never ever judge you for anything especially not being able to go down the stairs with a broken ankle. I’m always here for you ma” Chris comforts me, rubbing my arms soothingly.

“Thank you Chris” I smile leaning it to hug him.

“I love you” He kisses my cheek, hugging me back.

“Who wants Canes!!” Matt yells from the top of the stairs.

“You gonna let me carry you now mama?” He laughs as he picks me up, my legs going around his waist carefully with my ankle.

“Took you guys long enough! I’m starving” Chris laughs.

✧˖°⋆⑅˚₊

[m0nsterqzzz]

Something Stupid

pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

summary: and then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like...."I love you."

content: absolute teeth rotting fluff. pining for each other but wandas is much more intense? tiniest bit of blackhill if you squint.

a/n: had this idea for a while, and I actually kinda like it??? idk. first time for everything. reader is referred to as "sweets" like twice just because I love the nickname. it's what my boyfriend calls me. anyway. love yall!!

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Wanda Maximoff loves you.

She’s known that for years.

She’s known it since she first became an avenger and felt a strange urge to gain your forgiveness over everyone else's after what her and her late-brother Pietro did during the battle against Ultron.

She knew it when you became her best friend, teaching her how to control her magic and really just how to enjoy life.

She knew it when she had to watch as you got ready for dates with people that would never live up to your standards. Not she thought she would live up to your standards- no, she knew she couldn't- but she did know she treat you better then any of those no good pigs who are just looking for a fuck buddy ever good. The witch wouldn’t go up against your suitors though, just standing on the sidelines as her heart slowly breaks faster and faster the more you don’t see her in the same light you do them.

Little she did she know, she was the only one you truly wanted.

So finally, Wanda worked up the courage to ask you out so she no longer had to cry into her pillow while you were out sucking face with someone else.

Surprisingly, you agreed easily. The only thing you had to say was that she had to promise it wouldn’t change anything between you guys for the worse. If it didn’t work, you guys couldn’t become like Natasha and Maria. (those girls can’t be in the same room as each other for more than 2 seconds without making a backhanded comment about their four week long situationship)

The Maximoff girl agreed, eagerly setting up a dinner date.

It had quickly gone wrong.

The reservation was somehow not in the book despite the fact that Wanda called the fancy dinner place with insane prices about six times in the hour-long drive there. So you told her it was fine, that you’d be happy with some food from the delicious Thai place down the road as long as you were with her. But they were out of your favorite and Wanda ate so much that she felt ready to barf as you guys walked out of the restaurant- that was before she actually did barf in the parking lot. 

Finally, you guys headed to a bar near the Avengers tower for a quick nightcap, but that quickly turned into you both downing two drinks each before stumbling onto the dance floor.

A sweet looking old man who’s been reading a comic book in the corner sees you two and decides to put his own change in the jukebox and press play on a slow, but peaceful song. He sends you guys a smile, winking Wanda's way before he continues to read about some cool looking superheroes.

Wanda’s hands fall to your waist, gently gripping them as you both sway. Your head falls to lay on her shoulder, arms wrapped around the back of her neck as the music fills your ears. Her breath is on the back of your neck, warm, but it doesn’t even begin to compare to the feeling of her lips as she places a gentle kiss in that same spot. 

Then she goes and spoils it all by saying something stupid like, “I love you, sweets.”

You roll your eyes, thinking back to how many times people have told you that during first dates just to get in your pants. Though you will admit that when you hear Wanda say it, it brings a small, warm, fluttering feeling to your chest, and you manage to let out a small giggle before you say, “No you don't. You don’t love me Wanda. You like me. There’s a difference.”

She fights the urge to tell you that she knows there is a difference between love and like. She knows that because she’s felt both those ways towards you. Why can’t you just understand that so she doesn’t have to find a way to put it into words?

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

After a few days of her saying the same thing and you never believing her, the witch realizes she has to put it in words. Nothing else is capable of explaining how she feels about you. How she’s felt for so long.

So she recruits Natasha and Clint for help, and they spend the day working on some speeches. By 2pm, she has this;

“Are you from Tennessee? Cuz you’re the only ten-I-see.” - A line from Natasha which she used on Maria who was passing by at that moment just to prove to Wanda it works. (Natasha left and was found leaving the agents room an hour later. Apparently that’s back on)

“I love you.” - Clint Barton, the stupidest man on earth. There is a reason people call him bird brain. They were there because the three words are not enough to describe what she feels towards you. Did he even read what was on the brunch invitation? It clearly stated; “fixing Wanda's love life; no I love you’s, no magic town in which she controls so she can make Sweets fall in love with her against their will.”

“Hey, do you have wifi? Cuz I’m really feeling a connection.” - Natasha. She once again used it on Maria and was gone for another two hours. Can someone please address this?

“Start listing facts about the baby turtles you saved. Always gets the ladies.” - from Tony, who was walking by the living room and decided now was the best time to interrupt. He has never once gotten close enough to endangered animals to be able to ‘save’ them, but we can pretend if he wants too.

“Are you a beaver? Cuz dam.” - Natasha. (someone needs to restrain Maria from jumping the redheads bones. She is literally needed at this meeting.)

So, as we can see, no one is any help. 

She decides after that to just go with her gut, and her gut is telling her that you’ll know when the time is right, and hopefully will send her a sign.

Maybe the sign is sooner rather than later.

The witch spends about an hour in her bedroom in front of her mirror, trying on every outfit from sweats and a t-shirt to the 10,000 dollar dress Tony bought her for her birthday. Which clothes would draw your attention to her? She thinks about that alot, which is why she wears different outfits everyday simply in hopes of you sending her a small compliment. She always spends countless amounts of time planning the perfect outfit just to hear you say, “You look pretty Wans.”

Why is this happening to her?

It’s when she sets up a cute little picnic under the stars with all your favorite foods and snacks and a makeshift tv screen with a projector to watch your favorite film do you realize that you are deeply and utterly in love with Wanda Maximoff.

She’s sweet, and pretty. She can always make you laugh when you truly think you no longer can.

And besides all that, she’s your best friend. The one that will stick with you through thick and thin simply because she wants to be beside you.

You can’t help but feel your cheeks beginning to heat up every single time she even glances in your direction, let alone actually speak to you. You can feel your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and nerves as she just… exists.

You don’t tell her that though, afraid of getting your feelings hurt.

You just sit down on the nice thick blanket with her, grabbing some grapes to give a few to her and a few to herself as she presses play on the movie. It’s silent other than the sound of the movie, but she can hear your thoughts louder than any film. It’s not like she’s trying to read your mind. The witch vowed to herself to never use her magic on you unless it was necessary or life saving. That includes mind reading. Your thoughts are too loud though, and even with the amount of control she has over her powers, they still fill her head as she tries to focus on the movie.

“I love her.”

“She says she loves you.”

“She doesn’t mean it.”

“Yes she does.”

“No she doesn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter. I love her.”

Your internal battle on if she truly does love you or not breaks her heart into a million pieces, though she doesn’t want to call you out on it and make you feel uncomfortable. So you guys continue silently watching the movie. She doesn’t mention your loud thoughts, and you don’t mention that you can feel her eyes burning into the side of your face as she stares.

When the movie is over and the projector turns off, you guys sit in the darkness of the night. There are stars dressing the night sky, so you silently look at them as Wanda turns on her side so she can gently pull you closer to her. 

The moment is perfect; looking up at the stars in each other's warm embrace, your back pressed against her front and she moves around until she snuggles her head into the crook of your neck, so close to you that your perfume fills her senses and puts her into a peaceful bliss. Your truly happy as is she, and this time, as she says the tree words, you find yourself believing her;

“I love you.”

She doesn’t regret it or cringe out of embarrassment when she says it like she did last time. The witch just lets the words hang in the air. If you choose to say them back, you do. If not, at least you'll understand how much she truly means it.

“I love you.” You whisper back with new found confidence, and her chest fills with warmth and pure happiness. You finally believe her. Her words sounded so sincere and simple, not like the drunk words she said a few days ago. It’s the only reason you feel okay telling her the truth. You love Wanda Maximoff.

“I love you.” She mumbles, leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

[emoreemadden]

hey guys!! i suck at keeping up with posts but heres something to tide yall over (not that you were demanding anything anyways 😭)

Outline: Marriage? Gojo had never thought about it. Until you, that is.

Content Warnings: ANGST!ANGST!ANGST, angst, AAAAAANGST, be warned of angst, kind of a little fluff, not many warnings for this. character death :3

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, fem!reader

A/N: i dont really like this but enjoy!! 😭 word count: 877

────────────────────────

Gojo, when asked, “Do you think you’ll ever get married?” immediately thinks about you.

He’s never actually thought of getting married. It’s not like he’s had time. But now, imagining a life with you, living together and having a happy ending doesn’t seem so bad.

In fact, it sounds lovely.

So, like any normal person, he confronts you about it. At the worst time possible, that is.

“What do you think about marriage?” He asks suddenly, cutting you off on your rant about how insanely terrible your day was and how everyone you meet is an incompetent asshole.

You blink at him. “Excuse me?”

“Marriage. Like, getting married.” He clarifies stupidly.

“Like… to you?”

“To me, or to anyone. Would you ever want to get married?” He looks at you curiously.

Marriage has always been a trivial idea to you. The notion of giving your significant other a ring and having a big ceremony was never that appealing.

But looking at Gojo, sitting there with your hand in both of his, his eyes waiting for your response, you reconsider.

“I mean, sure. With the right person.” You stare back into his piercing blue eyes.

“Do you think I could ever be the right person?”

You smile at him. “I think you’re already the right person.” And he grins.

Not even a year later, he’s got a ring on your finger and already planning your wedding. You couldn’t be happier.

The ring in question didn’t come until later, as his proposal was spontaneous. A random night, sitting at the park in a gazebo as a break from your shitty job, and suddenly he was down on one knee.

“I asked you a while ago if you’d ever want to get married, and you said to the right person. Then I asked if I could be the right person, and you said I already was.” He said as he sat next to you, looking up at the sky. You glanced over at him, curious as to where he was going with this.

You swear you looked away for a split second before looking back at him, and there he was, grinning at you goofily with his hands mimicking an imaginary ring box.

“Do you still think I’m the right person?” He asked, and you just nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.

“So then, will you give me the honour of being your husband?” And there it was.

You screamed your approval, and now here you are.

“I do.” You answer when the priest asks the long awaited question.

‘Do you take Satoru Gojo to be your lawfully wedded husband?’

He does the same, answering the question with the biggest grin on his face.

“I do.”

And then he’s kissing you with the force of a thousand seas, and you almost feel like he’s going to hollow purple everyone at the wedding with the way he’s crushing you in his arms.

You’re officially Mrs. Gojo Satoru, and he couldn’t be prouder. He shows you off like a trophy, bringing you around and taking every chance to let everyone know you’re his wife.

Until, one day, he comes home and you aren’t there.

Confused, he wanders around the house for a bit. Did you go out?

He finds a note attached to the fridge that says you went to grab some groceries, and his heart relaxes. Only for a moment though, as he hears a knock on the door and it’s definitely not you.

He walks over, and standing in front of him are two police men.

“Is this the residence of Gojo Satoru?” They ask, and he nods silently.

“We’re very sorry for your loss.”

His life spirals after that one sentence. Loss. He lost you. You’re gone. Never to be found again.

Every day he stares at himself in the mirror, wondering what went wrong.

Maybe if he spent more time with you, he could’ve saved you that day.

Of course, he knows you’d tell him not to blame yourself if you were here, which is sort of a paradox, because if you were here, he wouldn’t have to blame anyone for what happened anyway.

Eventually though, he puts himself back together. Piece by piece, he fixes it. ‘You would’ve wanted him to,’ he tells himself.

But every now and then, he goes to visit the gazebo where he proposed to you. Spinning the wedding ring on his finger that he hasn’t taken off since that day, he sighs. The memories of you comfort him, even if they do so in a terribly depressing manner.

He remembers your voice, even after all these years. A question he’d heard you ask that he’d brushed off because it pained him to think about comes back to him suddenly.

“If I die, do you think you’ll remember me?”

I do.

And underneath the soft moonlight, he swears he can almost see you sitting next to him, your head on his shoulder moments before he asked for your hand in marriage.

“I do.” He says aloud, a bittersweet smile on his face. Just like he replied when you asked him that question, and just like he replied when he was asked if he wanted you as his lawfully wedded wife

“I really, really do.”

[artydonsgf]

Hey love💕 could u do an arthusband! fic??

hi sweets! i’m in the process of writing husband art but i didn’t wanna keep you waiting so i wrote out a headcanon list! i also included a small nsfw portion for my own delusional giggles, enjoy~

Art Donaldson as your Husband

- when yall start dating, it’s apparent that you’re his first real girlfriend

- he’s fooled around with people before but the eagerness of his kisses and how quickly your touch sends him over the edge makes it clear it was never serious

- you like it though, it’s cute how embarrassed he gets when you stare at him and call him handsome

- amazing bf, top tier communicator

- you discover early one that art does not play about you so he really tries his best to avoid any arguments that aren’t constructive

- extremely gooey and tells you that he wants to marry you in the future like a week into your relationship

- despite how good of a communicator he is, he also gets in his head very easily

- constantly worried that he’s somehow not enough for you and you’ll find someone better

- these worries die down pretty quickly but it sits in the back of his mind sometimes

- said i love you first and he said it after 6 months

- he later told you that he knew after a month but didn’t want to scare you away

- after a year of dating, he gives you a promise ring and swears that he’ll propose to you the moment you guys graduate

- two years in, you guys move in together

- six months later and true to his word, he gives you his grandmother’s ring while you’re both still in your caps and gowns

- the wedding happens quickly since neither of you wanted something big

- your wedding day is the best day of his life, something he tells you a million times throughout the day

- he cried like a baby when you walked down the aisle

- in all of your wedding photos, he’s looking at you like you are the center of the universe

- art settles into married life with ease

- in his mind, you guys have already been married since the moment you agreed to be his girlfriend

- sharing a last name with you is the best thing ever in his mind

- sometimes he’ll call you mrs donaldson just to hear you respond to it

- laughs into his hand when you respond but you already realized what he was doing forever ago

- a true romantic

- leaves flowers and other cute trinkets at your bedside table when he comes home from traveling for games

- he’ll be dead asleep beside you but you’ll always find a small bouquet, breakfast, and a souvenir from whatever town he passed through

- constantly thinks about you

- facetime warrior, he will call you at any time just to hear your voice

- if he’s lucky and you’re able to come with him to games, he spends any spare time curled up in your arms and ask you to just speak

- loves it when you run a hand through his hair, he’ll twist himself into an uncomfortable position if it means you’ll keep scratching his head

- the annoying guy who mentions his wife at any given moment

- “ah yes, my WIFE, also enjoys hiking”

- his idea of a date is dinner and cuddling the whole night

- seems to forget that he can kiss you whenever because he always asks if he can kiss you

- needs you like he needs air, bro is insane about you

- patrick knew about you before he even met you because art spoke about the beautiful girl with the kind eyes and sweet smile for a month before he actually asked you out

- bro was yearning like crazy

- his biggest issue is his jealousy

- starts plotting murder whenever a man speaks to you for too long

- or woman, he’s equal opportunity jealous

- ofc he doesn’t have to worry because you’re always quick to flash your ring and name drop him as your husband in convos

- he’s a very good husband who loves you an insane amount and makes sure to communicate that to you 24/7

NSFW

- legit will do anything you ask of him, so he’s very into experimenting

- your pleasure > his every time

- he enjoys oral but doesn’t really ask for it since he’d prefer to give

- submissive by nature and is happy to let you take charge

- only really dominant after a particularly tough day on the courts

- aftercare KING, he’ll get you cleaned up in two seconds flat so he can keep you in his arms for the rest of the night

- very needy in bed, he wants your constant attention

- total praise kink, he can hardly breathe when you tell him he’s doing a good job

- he had to learn how to control his pace because he used to come immediately

- despite his quickness at finishing, he has insane stamina and will keep you up the whole night

- it’s always you >>> any of his obligations

- more times than you can count, you’ve had to pry him off of you because he had important things to do the next day

- loves quickies

- likes it when you pull his hair

[dollfaceirene]

do better or stay bitter

So i'm finally off my blog posting break and i came up with this idea a few days ago so i decided today to finally write it up as a post today.

Imma cut it short and keep it blunt, some of yall do alot more complaining than changing and its like don't yall find it tiring?

Some of yall will come on apps to complain about "not being able to manifest", someone gives you advice or recommends useful posts and yall read over the post and never actually apply it to your own mindset/state and its like, don't yall find it tiring?

It comes to a point where y'all will be aware that you are re-affirming the same assumptions that simply don't benefit you and keep reinforcing the fact you are in a state of lack rather than actually taking time to reflect and affirm & make assumptions that are actually beneficial to what you want.

☆ lemme give an analogy,

We have Samantha and we have Jessica. Both Jessica and Samantha found out about the law of assumption around the same time and have recently finished their uni degrees.

Both Samantha and Jessica are currently applying to work at their dream jobs. Samantha, working at a bank and Jessica, working as a pharmacist.

Currently, both Samantha and Jessica haven't been having much success with looking for jobs as they either don't get any interviews or just don't get any callbacks.

This put Samantha and Jessica into a spiral of them affirming stuff of lack, e.g. "i will never be able to find a job" and since its their dominant assumptions, they are constantly shown in the 3D that they find it hard to get a job.

One day, Jessica was scrolling through her phone and saw a loa youtube video from a youtuber she subscribed to awhile back. She decides to watch this video and it gives a simplified summary of what the law of assumption is & how to apply it. She decides to keep affirming that she has her desired job no matter what was shown in the 3D. If she saw she didn't get any callbacks, she would keep affirming that she did have her desired job and that she was in control of her reality. Awhile later, she gets an interview to work at a private pharmacy and ends up landing the job there.

Meanwhile Samantha starts to overconsume alot of law of assumption posts, success stories, etc and never wants to apply the information. She always feels insanely jealous of people who have manifested desired things. She one days decides to do a mental diet however, instead of being disciplined with her thoughts & flipping any thoughts that didn't benefit her, only a few hours into the mental diet, she "quits" saying its too hard and that the law of assumption never works for her, even though it is universal & can be used to manifest anything.

the main point i want yall to get is that,

i) anyone is capable of changing their dominant assumptions

ii) only you can change your reality

iii) the law of assumption is neutral

Yall need to stop sitting on the sidelines while reading other success stories wishing it was you, newflash, it can and will be you once you've decided you have that in your reality.

Do better. Start that mental diet, listen to your affirmation tapes, do whatever helps you feel fulfilled or whatever. Stop going back to old story once you see something unfavourable in your 3D. Stop moping around how you "wish the loa will work for you" when it does! it works for everyone, you are no exception.

Be the Jessica of your reality. Be the one who identifies & decides that they have their desire no matter what instead of being the one who allows themselves to be the victim of their reality (which they can easily change) *cough, cough* Samantha.

Words of comfort: i just want to close off this post by saying i know alot of the time, circumstances can be so overwhelming that its so hard to affirm against it and can just be so frustrating at times. I hope you find peacr & comfort in your reality and wishing you all the best <3 rooting for yall, you can do this :)

stay limitless, xoxo irene

[spacedace]

Reluctant War AU Part 3

Part 1 Part 2

More of the brain worm that has taken me over, gonna probably post it to Ao3 here before too long. Already got another part started and so many ideas for additional stuff, someone please send help I've been consumed by this thing lol

Sorry if Waller seems out of character, outside of fandom I'm mostly familiar with her through Justice League the animated show & Justice League: Unlimited and her vibe there has always struck me as "deeply incredibly unlikable character that also kind of has a point but also has done so much fucked up shit in the name of her goals that you don't really care about her point anymore." So you know, complicated lol. If she's completely unrecognizable let me know, but I'm hoping she feels at least somewhat like Waller.

Forgot to say this in the last update, but still feel free to use all this as an overly long prompt if yall want. Literally anything I throw out to the void should be treated as a prompt lol If there's anything at all interesting to you in any of this nonsense go for it <3 <3 <3

---

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Ruthless, heartless, vicious, cruel.

She’d been called it all. Wore the words thrown as insults as a badges of pride and valor. Because at the end of the day, when it came to the problems she was given to face, the issues she was meant to solve, those words meant she’d done what others had been too squeamish or cowardly to do. Life was a never ending slog of trolley problems and she the only one unshakable enough to pull the levers that needed pulling.

It wasn’t so simple as a matter of greater good.

Greater good was what the weak willed muttered to themselves after having feelings over doing the bare minimum. A justification used by people on all sides to do what they wanted with fractured, faulty logic thrown around like truth was a thing immutable. To assuage their guilt when they were forced to make a call they didn’t want to.

It wasn’t a matter of greater good. It was a matter of preservation. Of protection. Of digging through the filth to find the threats skittering beneath and crush them with ruthless abandon. Of facing a god and not blinking because if you did it could cost the world.

Of doing what needed to be done, no matter how underhanded or atrocious it was.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the throat of something that could threaten to destroy it all.

When the Ghost Investigation Ward had been shoved her way with it’s sucking wound of a budget, it’s bloated incompetent staff, its asinine methods she’d seen a rotted limb in need of hacking off. It hadn’t been until she’d been conducting her inspection, digging through the trash for a few pearls of effective agents she could snatch up and put to work elsewhere, that she’d truly seen what they were working on. The potential.

Potential to better arm themselves with in the forms of the strange new weapons being created.

Potential for threats far greater than anything even she had thought possible before.

The GIW as it had been when she’d first come across it was a fetid waste of time and resources. A laughing stock agency only secret because no one took them seriously enough to look. Made stupid and useless with its own conceited delusions of importance it didn’t actually have. Yet.

She went to work on it. Hacking away as she’d originally intended, but this time with a different goal in mind. She ripped out the weeds with bare, calloused hands and planted proficiency and loyalty in their place. She took over as director herself, tossing the self-aggrandizing fool that had been running the place into the ground to the dogs as the culprit for misappropriate spendings, saving the agency by tweaking things until their ballooning budget was pinned neatly onto the former director as an embezzling charge.

Then she got to work.

The Fentons were brilliant, if entirely insane. But Amanda could work with that. She’d reigned Harley Quinn in - more or less - she could do the same to the two deranged scientists that so eagerly wanted to be apart of the fight against the dead. Especially when the benefit came in the form of the inventions they threw together so easily, especially when those inventions were weapons.

It took very little to get them on board with her plans for the GIW. Keeping their focus could be a chore, at times, but she didn’t even have to really do much in the way of pressing to get them back where she wanted them. They craved knowledge and understanding nearly as much as they craved the eradication of the entities themselves. Letting them have the first look at a new subject here, free reign over a vivisection there, it took so little to fuel their fervor and keep them busy working on the projects she set for them.

Things had been going smoothly.

For a time at least.

Until Phantom.

He’d been the main focus of the previous director’s attention, the big fish he’d so desperately wanted to catch and put up on his wall. Amanda wouldn’t lie and say it wasn’t a tempting prospect, but not one she’d put above the other projects she had set in motion since taking over. No, Phantom was powerful, enough to be a real problem one day, but she could the awkward youth in the way he held himself, the inexperience in how he handled situations. She had time to get everything else in order before focusing on getting Amity Park’s would-be hero brought to heel.

And he would be brought to heel. One way or another.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands wrapped tight around the Core of a fledgling god and bending him to her will.

An artifact, old an powerful, recovered with some effort. A means of controlling specters, of chaining them to the will of the artifact’s wielder. Dangerous in the wrong hands. Dangerous in the right hands.

It was shattered, and even whole and functional Phantom was resistant to its power. But Amanda Waller prided herself in her ability to see the potential in things. It could be repaired, be made better. Even gods could be bound, be made to kneel, with the right pieces, with the right application of force.

It was just a matter of time to gather everything needed.

Phantom didn’t know he could single handedly destroy every last member of the Justice League. The baby fat, the innocent eyes, the split-second hesitations when he fought. He knew enough to be confident in fighting the usual ghosts that haunted Amity Park, but he still very much saw himself as a little fish. Maybe it was the part of him that was still Daniel Fenton, gangly teenager not quite sure what he was truly capable of yet.

She had time before the Fenton’s son truly became an issue. Time to judge if his parents’ obsessiveness would overcome their - rather shoddy, by Amanda’s estimation - parental instincts and continue to hunt him once they knew the truth. Time to get as much out of them as she could before hand, should they falter at the idea of attacking their own son. Time for the staff to be repaired and returned to working order, to get the other items needed for the truly big fish hidden on the other side of the veil between worlds.

She had time.

Until she didn’t.

Pariah Dark had not been something she thought she’d have to account for - not yet, at least.

If he wasn’t already dead, she’d ring the Ghost King’s neck with her bare hands. His arrival had opened Phantom’s eyes to what he was capable of, of just how big of a fish he was. Worse still, Phantom’s defeat of the war mongering King changed the state of play. Phantom was no longer an impressively powerful half dead teenager.

He was King Infinite.

He was an Ancient.

He was getting on her last damn nerves.

Phantom’s rogue gallery were now firmly under the boy’s control. Still distinct nuisances around Amity Park, but no longer considered true concerns. They were loyal to their boy king, delighting in ruffling his feathers but never crossing the line into treason or attempted regicide. Which meant that the GIW was the only thing that held his attention.

Amanda took the time to send a care package to the former GIW director in his tiny, dank prison cell. As thanks for his carelessness in revealing to the entire town - both living and dead - of the agency’s existence and their intentions. Had he stuck to standard protocol, Phantom would have been none the wiser to their presence. Would have scratched his head and shrugged his shoulders at the ghost that went missing upon occasion. Would have been boredly uninterested in the people his parents had begun working with. Would have been taken by surprise when they finally came for him.

But no.

No that self-obsessed, fame chasing imbecile had to go and announce to everyone and their dead mother that the GIW existed and exactly what it was they were in Amity Park to do.

Phantom knew what they were there to do.

They could only count on his naive certainty that he could broker peace with them for so long.

Peace. As if he and his people weren’t the invading force, the monsters slipping in through the cracks between worlds, the latest threat that had to be accounted for. As if he himself hadn’t rent their world asunder himself in another world, another time. No. Peace was not something they could hash out with this baby-faced monarch with his too-big crown. Peace was the assurance of safety, security. Of control of the situation.

There could be no peace.

The higher ups were somehow surprised when Phantom took that to mean there would be war.

Amanda Waller was not.

The Fentons, as suspected, took the right side when all was revealed. Steady hands and flinty eyes as they crafted the weapons that would be needed for the coming fight. Minds even sharper in their maddened grief, hearts set on revenge for the son lost and the entity that stole his face and friends and sister in his garish pretense at humanity. They were blinded to the reality of the situation in its entirety, the potential in what their son truly was, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. They did what she needed them to do, they could believe whatever it was they wanted so long as they did.

By the time the boy king and his armies marched upon the Amity park facility, preparations had been put into place. The base in Amity had been stripped back to bare essentials, everything of importance moved to more secured locations.

The weapons labs.

The artifact.

The girl.

All tucked well away from the front lines where Phantom and his motley crew could not reach. Their time to be put in play would come, but not yet. First she needed to gauge what Phantom and his people were capable of, what they were willing to do in the name of what they wanted. Amity Park was a pawn well sacrificed on that front. As were the other facilities she’d left easy to find.

The problem with making children gods, with giving them crowns and calling them King and giving them armies to play with, was that they thought there should be rules. That even in the trenches tearing apart their enemies, there was a certain level of playing fair that everyone was held to. They thought there was a way the world worked, of how things should be that blinded them to more effective options even as time stretched on and desperation set in.

It was the Dead’s problem though, not hers.

She reached out to the Justice League. Sour faced, unhappy, bitterly reluctant to accept that she needed their help. Stone faced and barely containing their rage at what little they knew of the situation, they agreed to a meeting.

She didn’t let herself smile until she was well and truly alone in her office.

Greater good. A lie people told themselves. A fairytale told to children. A means of convincing the weaker willed that they had no choice, that they had a noble duty to bend to. A belief that could be wielded like a weapon if the fantasy of the idea had dug in deep enough. And there were few it had dug into so deep as the members of the Justice League.

Amanda Waller was someone who did what needed to be done.

Hands dirty.

Hands red.

Hands clenched tight on a victory long in the making.

---

Part Four

[otakubimbo]

Checkmate.

MafiaBoss Sukuna x F!Reader

You had a routine. You had a life. You had plans. Is your association with someone you hate going to change everything for you?

Sticky: I was asked to make it into a series so this is the prequel to this! It will be an on going series. I don't know how many chapters yet.

UPDATED STICKY: hi yes, you may be seeing this thinking 'OB this definitely doesn't look like what you wrote before.' and you would be right, i hated it so i changed it. Sorry, love yall, bye T-T

masterlist

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The activity at the Zenin compound was raising suspicion from their enemies, especially their biggest one The King of Curses. The two yakuza families had been cordial for the most part through the decades, but lately, the hot-headed Naoya Zenin was pushing his way into the King of Curses territory and that would not do, not at all. So, on top of the brazen acts by the end of that family, the activity coming from the compound DAILY was raising all alarms for Ryomen Sukuna.  And the activity? It was you, coming in and out the front gates of the compound almost daily, always bringing something with you, always leaving without anything. The biggest issue, no one had any information on you and yet you were casually coming in and out of the compound as if you were an important member of the Zenin’s. The King of Curses needed to know your role with them and how to use it to his advantage to get Naoya out of his hair for good.

That’s what led to one of the King of Curses disgruntled underlings following you around for the last two weeks. Nothing you did was of interest; you were actually quite boring. Your day consisted of leaving your condo with a bag of who knows what to the Zenin compound, spending a few hours there, and leaving to go to the park not far from the compound to play chess? With old people? It was strange, and then after that, you would leave after seemingly beating every old man who would sit with you and play to go to a café or library to work away at something on your computer.

Sukuna’s face was twisted into a scowl as he read over the report of your day.

“What the fuck is this?” His voice made the men under his command shrink into themselves and back down.

“Sir, that’s all we have. That’s all she does.” One of them spoke up not meeting Sukuna’s glare. The man before them flexes his fingers in an attempt to quell his rage from snapping either of their necks.

“Do you at least have a name; do you have anything?”

The silence from their lack of response was louder than anything they could have said. Sukuna crumbles the report in his hand, balling his fist and banging it against the sturdy wooden desk. He had to think of something. There had to be something he could think of because surprisingly enough despite how arrogant and boisterous Naoya was, the boy kept his circle tight and private. Nothing that the boy doesn’t want out, never gets out. You truly seemed nothing of interest but then no one and he knew NO ONE was allowed to freely walk in and out of that compound so casually without significance. Also, there was something about you that he couldn’t figure out and it was driving him almost insane. He had seen videos in the reports he was being sent of you and the way you walked and carried yourself had him in thought. In thought of what? He really didn’t know but he knew he needed to figure out what your connections with all of this were. Just before he was truly about to lose his temper, he did have an idea. After all, you were a woman so this should at least get a little information out of you.

“Bring me Fushiguro .”

Fushiguro, Toji Fushiguro, was one of Sukuna’s subordinates who would be considered a ‘ladies man’ and you were a lady. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. He would use Toji to sway you into giving up some type of information or at the very least gain a bit of your trust to get you here to interrogate that wouldn’t draw any suspicions from the Zenin’s. It was a good plan that has worked on more than one occasion. Well, that was what Sukuna assumed until Toji actually met you.

There you were, right on schedule, as usual, laughing at the older man who sat across from you. It seemed that you had been beating him at a round of chess and the old man was being grumpy about it. Toji walked up with his casual nonchalant attitude toward the bench you were sitting on.

“Well, aren’t you a pretty little thing?” Toji commented as he walked up to you. You look up at him, a slight scowl on your face that he wasn’t expecting. Women usually fawn over him always immediately, but you looked almost disgusted. The glares he was getting from the older men around you didn’t help his circumstance either.

“Did you need something?” Your tone is annoyed as you glare up at him. He chuckles at your hostility. That made you scowl even more; you really didn’t want to be bothered by this man especially one as seemingly cocky and self-assured as this one.

“I’ve seen you here at the park a few times and wanted to get your name.” He lied and he could tell you knew it was a lie by the way your eyes narrowed at him.

You roll your eyes, sighing going back to making a move on the board in front of you, “Well I haven’t seen you before so I would prefer not to acquaint myself with you.”

Toji could tell this was going to be a lost cause on his part. Sukuna was not going to be happy about this in the least bit but there wasn’t anything else he could do, your body language told him everything he needed to know. He raised his hands in defeat and apologized for bothering you, heading back to the car parked around the corner. If Toji was a man who didn’t value his life, he would tell the King that he should give up on seeing what you know unless he just wanted to kidnap and torture you. You didn’t seem like the kind of girl to just give in to anything easily, and these soft plans would be a waste of everyone’s time.  But Toji was a man who did value his life at least a little, so he just planned to tell him exactly what happened and that you weren’t interested in speaking to him in the least bit.

Sukuna was frustrated with Tojis report, he couldn’t help but shoot one of the lackeys he had in the room. He didn’t kill him, maybe, but this was getting on his nerves quickly. The King’s attempt at trying to be subtle for once was getting him nowhere and it was pissing him off.

You knew you had been being watched for weeks now; it was almost obvious with the way that the same men kept appearing around the same time every day. They weren’t really good at this, it seemed to you. It didn’t concern you that much though, you understood why you may have been followed but you didn’t have any information of value. Naoya allowed you into the Zenin compound and he was never shy about what he did for a living or the type of man that he was. He didn’t value you as a person, so he allowed you to go and come as you pleased, which you were grateful for. He was a man who such self-assurance, such bravado, such misogyny that he didn’t find any value in hiding anything from you or your cousin that he made his wife. Your cousin, more of a sister to you than anything, was unfortunately the now wife of Naoya Zenin and the only reason you would EVER visit his compound. You hated every single second you spent in that space, but you did it for your cousin. She was trapped in these walls and unable to go anywhere unless it was with the end of the clan himself. The only thing that man allowed was for you to see her and you took that, making it almost your job to visit her every day in order to keep her sanity. You would bring her breakfast, books, snacks, or whatever you have found that could make sure she felt connected with the outside world and connected with something else besides the Zenin’s.

Every day you had almost the same schedule, visiting your cousin for a few hours, discussing the past day’s events and anything that you had brought over. Then you would go over to this beautiful park and play chess with the elders there, they adored you so much even if you beat them every time. After that, you would go off to either the library, a café, or anywhere that you could get back to work on your dissertation. That was the reason you had so much time to visit your cousin and make sure she was alright; you were working on your dissertation and that was the only thing that truly required your focus. You came from a wealthy family that was similar to the zenin’s in the way that there was no value to a woman besides being a bride. Luckily for you, your parents had agreed to allow you to finish any education before marrying you off just like your cousin. Which is why you are currently working on your Ph.D. in comparative literature. You had hoped to continue down the path of education hoping that if you elongate your studies, your parents will focus more on your brothers and forget about you. You hoped.

It had been a while since you had been followed and since your last encounter with that handsome but strange man who attempted to flirt with you for whatever reason that you completely forgot about those interactions. This is why the confusion on your face was felt by the elders that you usually play chess with as you walk to your park in the spot where you play to see them laughing and playing with someone else who isn’t you. It took you WEEKS to have them allow you to play and now here sat a man in YOUR spot playing with them as they laugh and smile at the man.

There in your place sat a man you knew you had never seen before. There sat the King of Curses himself, Ryomen Sukuna.

[mxnhoo]

surprises! (k. sn)

synopsis : sunoo was ghosting you the entire day, and you wanted to have a day out with your mom to take your mind off of it, and suddenly there was.. a surprise?! pairing : kim sunoo x reader genre : romance, fluff, sunoo is mad mad mad sweet it makes me want to cry, not proofread w/c : 2.6k a/n : hey guys, just had a quick idea and had to do something about it. idea is from @/hatsunenica on tiktok. worst part is, it's currently 1am and i need to wake up at 7am tomorrow LOL ignore the mistakes, hope yall enjoy. KINDA HATE IT THO COS IT'S KINDA CLICHE

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You rested on your bed, feeling exhausted after crying non-stop for hours. You were just laying down lifelessly, your phone beside your head. The room was dim, the only light source being the lamp that was resting on your nightstand. Your pillow and sheets were stained with your tears and snot, leaving an obvious outline and you stared blankly, resting on your side. You received a notification, making your phone screen turn on, and you instantly sat up to see the notification, but was quickly met with disappointment when you realised it wasn't from the person you anticipated it to be. Quickly looking at the time before your phone automatically turned off, you realised how early in the day it was for you to be crying like this. Heck, it was only 6am in the morning, the sun has barely rised and you're already feeling a trainwreck of emotions, it's insane. Disappointment and hurt only filled you as you think back on the reason why you were crying in the first place.

Sunoo was not responding to any of your texts or calls, and it was making you feel worried, scared, fearful, to the extent you were crying this badly. He stopped responding to you from 3pm from the day before, and it made your overthinking worse.

Was he tired of you? Was he ghosting you? Did he not love you?

But to make it worse, you two weren't even in a relationship, so you felt like you didn't have the need to get upset over this. Your eyes slowly closed and you drifted off to sleep, feeling completely exhausted after being up for majority of the night, trying to contact Sunoo.

The sunlight made it's way to your room, and upon the brightness increasing, you started to gain consciousness. Opening your eyelids, you are met with the ceiling, and you had to take a few seconds to just stare and recall what happened. You heaved out a big sigh and shook your head, trying to shake the thoughts away. You sat up on your bed and quickly check your phone one last time, and once again, no notifications. You wanted to cry again, but there were no more tears. You put your phone on silent and Do Not Disturb, not wanting to come into contact with it for a while.

You throw your feet over the edge and realise how your journal and pen was resting on the floor. You probably accidentally kicked it down during your sleep after you journalled how you felt, writing down all the things you felt down to release your pent up emotions. You pick the journal up, reading a few lines from the entry you made yesterday.

"i miss your touch, i miss the way you call my name" "i wish you would just say something" "i love you sunoo."

And upon reading the last line, you slammed your book closed, immediately putting it on your nightstand. You shook your head once more, letting out a long sigh. Suddenly, your bedroom door opened, and you turn your head towards the door. It revealed your mom who was looking elated, and she spoke out, "Darling, let's go out today! Dress up nice, okay?"

You wanted to refuse, you wanted to say no so you could just rot at home in your self-pity, but before you could respond, your mom had already closed the door on you, leaving you no choice. Maybe a day without your phone will do it. Maybe you'll feel better.

You softly screamed and set your foot on the floor, standing up and stretching, ready to carry out operation "Day Without Phone Or Texting Sunoo". You knew your mother would take you out to breakfast, so you made your way to the bathroom to start preparing to shower.

Dress up nice? You definitely did. You were shutting your eyelids close as you spray the setting spray on your face after having put on a full make-up look. You slowly put down the spray and opened your eyes, looking at the table mirror in front of you. You grinned as you realised how prettier you have gotten, feeling more confident in your own skin. Today, you wanted to just forget about all of your problems, and you were definitely going to do it in the prettiest way. You stood up from the chair to take into view of how you completeluy looked. The sundress you were perfectly complemented your body well, showing off your good shape and your make-up that was just finished off making you look like a princess. Goddess, even. Feeling happy at your look, you opened the door to see your mom who was already dressed up, sitting on the couch and waiting for you.

"Ready to go? Let's dine at your favourite!" she exclaimed. You nodded, already feeling detached from your problems, and you quickly snatch your bag that was hanging near you as you folloewd her. Your phone was still nicely resting in your room, and you glanced towards your room one more time before closing the front door beside you.

Breakfast at your favourite cafe -- Dreamy Drips, which served the best pancakes, and afterwards your mom bought french toast too, which was nicely accompanied by an ice cream flavour of your choice, chocolate chip.

Afterwards, you and your mom walked around the street, admiring the view and just chatting. Occassionally, Sunoo appeared in your mind and it always made you want to break down, but you focused on the person who loves you with her whole heart -- your mother. You smiled at her, laughing at the jokes she made.

Shopping at your favourite bookstore was also one thing you two did, feeling like you were in paradise. You felt ecstatic at the sight of filled-up bookshelves, and it was almost as if all your problems were non-existent.

A cat-cafe was the next thing you and your mom went to. You absolutely loved cats, wanting to own one so bad but not having enough time to take care of it properly. You caressed the cat that was resting on your lap, and you smiled at your mom who was now taking a photo of you.

Lunch was the next thing. You two ate at a sushi restaurant, completeley devouring the food at sight. When you were completely filled up, you burped loudly and rubbed your stomach, your mom laughing at you.

This time, you and your mom ended up in the mall. You walked past stores, liking how they all have their own styles and different products. You occasionally entered stores to see the different things that they sold, copping a few items here and there.

After a long day, your mom announced that she wanted to go home. You agreed, feeling exhausted yet refreshed too, and she called a taxi. On the taxi ride home, you expected her to be chatty, recalling the simple moments you and her shared earlier in the day, except she was constantly on her phone and constantly typing.

"Who was she texting that she's typing like that?" you thought to yourself. You shrugged and looked out of the window, watching as the car you were in drive past the buildings. Your mom was probably texting your dad.

Upon reaching, you and your mom step foot outside the taxi, and you were about to walk up to her so you two could walk in the house together, but she quickly looked up at you.

"Darling, I have to deal with last-minute things, take the keys!" she exclaimed, smacking the keys to your palms before going to the opposite direction. You didn't even have the chance to say anything before her silhouette started to gradually become smaller, and not visible. You sighed, holding your bag and the plastic bags from the shops you shopped at today, walking up to the front door. Your rings clinked loudly and you unlocked the door, stepping foot inside.

Immediately, you noticed how the aroma of the whole environment was different. It smelled like.. vanilla? You tilt your head in confusion, raising an eyebrow and closing the door behind you. You turned on the light switch and instantly noticed something on the floor. Red.. petals? You observed as it trailed to your room, and you cautiously look around to see if anyone was there, but you were met with nothing. You attentively stepped to the front of your room, twisting the knob and opening the door.

There he was. Sitting on your bed, in a suit, holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers - roses, and balloons that were sticked onto your wall that spelled out, "Will you be my girlfriend?".

You dropped the plastic bags you were holding and brought it up to your face. Your jaw dropped and your eyes widened, processing the sight that was right in front of you. Sunoo was chuckling, as he nervously scratched his neck. He stood up from the bed, and started stepping towards you, until you called out, "Stop right there!".

Upon hearing your callout, he immediately halted to a stop, his eyebrows raising as he felt slightly puzzled. "I-I just.. need to process everything.." you added on, slowly bringing your hands down back to your sides.

He chuckled and responded, "You can take your time, I'll always be here, okay, Y/N?". Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt a blush creep up your cheeks and ears. You finally processed the sight in front of you, and cleared your throat. "S-so.. what is this?".

He finally took the steps towards you, holding up the bouquet and smiling at you oh-so handsomely. He replied, "I wanna ask the prettiest girl out, and it so happens to be you".

You still couldn't believe your eyes, but you slowly took the bouquet into your hands and sniffed the aroma of the roses. They smelled so beautiful. Your eyes started welling up, and upon seeing your emotional state, Sunoo started to panick, "W-wait, why are you cryin-?"

Tears finally rolling down your cheeks and you cried out, "I thought you hated me! I thought you didn't like me anymore and I thought you found someone else! I couldn't stop crying earlier today because of my overthinking!".

Still panicking, Sunoo quickly brought you into an embrace, and patted your back. "Shh, I got you, Y/N."

You continued to cry, now your tears staining his suit, not being able to hold back your tears anymore. He continuously whispered sweet-nothings into your ears as he patted your back and caressed your hair.

"Was this why you were ignoring me?" you asked, voice cracking at the last few words. Oh man, Sunoo wanted to slap himself for breaking your heart and making you cry like this. He quickly leaned back and cupped your face, "Yes.. I wanted to surprise you and make you really happy, but I didn't expect you to be over me not responding. I'm sorry, okay, baby?". He pecked your forehead, and looked at you with such a reaussuring gaze.

You finally looked at him, eye-to-eye, and you noticed how handsome he looked today. The way his hair was nicely slicked back, eyes looking genuinely worried for you, and you melted into his gaze. With your free hand, you caressed his cheek and finally smiled.

"There's the smile I love so much." he grinned, a pink tint on his cheeks showing.

"I got you a gift, mind if I show you?" he asked, raising his eyebrows, signalling if it was okay for him to pull away, and you nodded "Not at all, what is it?".

He grinned and stood back from you, walking towards the other side of your bed and picking up a box that was blocked in your view. As you watched him, you look at the bouquet of roses he gave you and smiled, placing it down on the table near you afterwards. He walked back to you, holding the box with both hands, and he handed it to you.

"What's inside, hmm? I wonder what it could be!" you said, your heart currently feeling so ecstatic at the moment. You opened the box and is met with a variety of things.

The first thing you pulled out was a digital camera that looked brand new, and you looked at Sunoo with shock.

"Is this the digital camera I wanted?!" you asked, feeling completely excited. He nodded and you continue, "But isn't it $300?!". Your eyebrows furrowed, worried about the cost.

He shook his head, "Nothing is too expensive when it comes to you."

You pouted your lips, melting at his words as you place the digital camera box inside the box and took out the next thing.

A stack of polaroids that were joined compiled together by a rubber band. You placed the box on the table that also had the bouquet and removed the rubber band, seeing all the polaroids.

The first polaroid was of you when you and him had gone out to study with a group of friends. You didn't even know he took a photo of you.

Second polaroid was of you studying when you went to the library to study with him and a few others

Third.. fourth.. fifth.. and it went up to a 10th.

The 10th one was a polaroid of you at the cafe, when you and him had agreed to hang out alone. You remembered it clearly, he asked to take a photo of you on his polaroid camera, and you shyly smiled at the memory. The 10th one had permenant marker writing at the bottom, and it wrote "The moment I knew I was in love with you."

You gasp and you looked at him. When you and him had went out that day, it was 2 years ago. He had been in love with you for so long?

You tied a rubber band around the stack of polaroids and placed it back into the box, and now the last thing was.. mail. A lot of it. You questioned Sunoo, "What's all of this?".

He shyly smiled, scratching his neck, "I wrote a love letter for you every single time I couldn't stop thinking about you." Your jaw dropped again, and you looked inside, realising the insane amount of letters inside. You could easily say there was 10, no, 25, maybe even 50. That is insane.

"I hand-made all those flowers in the bouquet, y'know?" he smiled, fidgeting with his hands, feeling worried you wouldn't like it. You whined out, your heart melting at him and feeling so happy

"I love it, Sun, I love all of it." you cried out, feeling emotional. Upon hearing your words, his face lit up, and he immediately brought you into an embrace.

Sunoo cleared his throat, before asking the big question, "Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?".

You smiled at him, feeling so emotional that the boy your heart has been yearning for was finally asking you out, and even reciprocaiting your feelings.

"Yes, Sun, of course!" you exclaimed, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him for a kiss.

You were kissing him for the first time, and his lips felt so soft, so gentle. He held your head oh-so gently, and he was tilting his head to be able to gain more access. The way you two were moving in such a rhythmatically way showed the chemistry between you two, and you wanted time to just stop right here. Your heart was rapidly beating, and you felt like it could explode any moment. You felt so joyful, cheerful, delighted, elated, jubilant, ecstatic, all the snynonyms for happy. There were no words spoken, but it was so clear how much the two of you yearned for each other. The warmth you felt was like no other.

After a long minute, you slowly pulled back. Resting your forehead on his and looking right into his eyes, you smiled, "Sun, I love you so much."

He chuckled and replied, "I love you too."