#GOD *PUNCHES WALL* I LOVE WOMEN

[srasdoesthings]

Richest lesbian couple in the world NagiHiyo 🫶🫶

[vivwritesfics]

Charles jealous and possessive please 🔥 SMUT

Green Eyed Monster

Smut Warning! This work is intended for 18+ audiences only!

There was something about the rich, fancy Monaco lifestyle. Something Y/N L/N couldn't quite explain.

When her boyfriend wasn't racing on the other side of the world, when he was home in Monaco he took her out to extravagant and elegant restaurants. The kinds of places where Y/N was dressed to the nines, where all eyes were on her and she was on Charles' arm.

On this particular evening, Y/N wore a black dress with a skirt that went down to her ankles. There was a slit up the side, showing off a bit of her leg. The rest of the dress was pretty simple, tight to her body with thin straps over her shoulders. On her feet she had black feels with little straps criss crossing up her legs. Her nails were black, matching the dress.

Charles stood in his suit, watching as Y/N put on her heels. He couldn't help but stare as she finished getting ready. "Oh mon Dieu, ma chérie. Tu es superbe," (oh my god, my darling. You look fantastic) he whispered as he leaned against the mirror.

Y/N tucked her hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Lord Percival," she said, standing from the bed.

Striding over, she wrapped her arms around her neck and kissed him. It was quick and careful, so that Y/N didn't ruin her makeup. "How about we don't go to dinner," he suggested. "How about we stay here and I ravage you?"

She shook her head. "Please, Charles. We haven't been to dinner in so long," she said with a slight whine.

So, they went to dinner. With Charles driving, they looked every bit the rich Monégasque people everybody through they were. Some people took pictures of them as they drove past, on their way to the restaurant.

At the restaurant, they took their seats and ordered their drinks. "I'll be back in a moment," said Y/N when the waiter walked away. She stood from her seat, kissed Charles on the cheek (leaving a lovely red mark), and made her way to the bathroom.

Charles looked around the restaurant. Some people had their phone out, pointing them at him. Charles simply smiled as he waited for her to get back.

Y/N finished up in the bathroom and made her way outside. There was a small corridor, with the men's bathroom next to the women's, before leading back to the restaurant.

A man walked out of the bathroom beside her as Y/N walked out of the ladies room. He looked her up and down as Y/N fixed the skirt of her dress and leaned against the wall. The guy let out a whistle. "Je te ferai crier mon nom au lit ce soir, ma belle," (I'll have you screaming my name in bed tonight, gorgeous) he said.

Y/N sent a disgusted look his way. "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm here with my boyfriend," she spat and walked away. Walking back to her Lord Percival.

"Je m'en fiche, sexy. Je te ferai mendier pour moi dans ces toilettes si tu le veux," (I don't care about that, sexy. I'll have you begging for me in those stalls if you want it) he said, following her towards the restaurant.

Y/N ignored him as she walked back to her table. Just before she reached Charles, the guy reached forward, pinching her ass. Gasping, Y/N turned around, ready to throw a punch. But the man was gone. When he saw where she was heading, he backed off, walking to a table with what Y/N could only assume was his wife.

"What was that, Darling?" Asked Charles as Y/N sat down opposite him. Their drinks were already there and Charles had already had most of his.

Y/N took a sip of her drink. "Oh, nothing my love. Don't worry about it."

Charles narrowed his eyes. He believed her, but her answer wasn't filling him with confidence.

He was silent while they ate their food. Charles was quick to pay for the food and get Y/N back into the car. "I saw you with him, mon amour," he said as the drove away.

"What? Charles-"

"I'm going to make sure you never do anything like that again." His hand was on her thigh, gripping tight, travelling closer to where she needed him most.

"Charles," she whispered, hiking up the skirt of her dress. Charles' fingers danced across her bare thigh, sending a shiver up her spine.

Charles kept a hold of her hand as he walked her back into the apartment. He pushed the door shut behind them and locked it. There would be no interruptions tonight.

"Get in the bedroom and get that dress off," he said, walking to their kitchen.

Y/N ran off to the bedroom, unzipping and throwing off her dress as she went. She left it in a crumpled pile by the wardrobe and worked on taking off her shoes and underwear. Discarding them in the same manner, she laid back on the bed and stared at the door.

Anticipation was making it all the more exciting. She could hear Charles' shoes clicking against the floor as he approached, making her drip.

When he twisted the handle and pushed the door open, Y/N sat up and stared at him. Charles was still dressed, but his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, showing off his chest.

He was so pretty. So, so pretty.

"I don't like it when people try to take what's mine," he said, his voice low. He shrugged off his jacket and beckoned her closer.

On her hands and knees, Y/N crawled across the bed towards him. Charles pushed her hair behind her ear and tilted her chin up to kiss her. "Si jolie, mon amour. Tellement jolie." (So pretty, my love. So fucking pretty)

Still clothed, Charles pushed her back onto the bed. He ran his hands over her body, over all the places that made her shiver. Over her breasts and down to her core.

His touches were light as he touched her folds. "Charles," she cried, throwing her head back. With one hand he touched her and, with the other, he unbuckled her belt. "Nobody touches my girl," he said through a growl, his touches becoming rougher.

Flipping Y/N over, she pulled his cock from his trousers. Charles lined himself up and entered swiftly. He was still fully clothed, standing over Y/N on her hands and knees.

Charles' thrusts started slow. But they quickly got rougher. Charles had a grip on her hair, holding her up, exposing her throat. His hips were moving at a bruising pace, his thrusts hitting all the right places.

"Oh my," she gasped. "Charles!"

The hand gripping her throat moved around to her neck, pulling her back into her chest. If it wasn't for his grip, Y/N would have fallen forward, allowing her body to be pounded into the sheets. Charles bit and kissed at her shoulder, sucking dark bruises into the place where her shoulder met her neck.

Y/N was lost in a haze of sex and pleasure. She cried his name again ans again, repeating it like a prayer.

When Y/N came undone Charles kept going. He didn't let up on the pace, not until his thrusts became sloppy and his hips stilled against her, spilling his seed inside of her.

For a moment, Charles didn't pull out. He just held Y/N there, his cock buried inside of her. His breathing was erratic, his body sweaty.

"C'est ma gentille fille. Tu as fait du bien pour moi," (That's my good girl. You did so good for me) he whispered, kissing her gently.

Slowly, Y/N pulled away from him. She laid herself on the bed and reached out for Charles, trying to pull him closer. As he came closer, he took off his shirt and his pants discarding them. "I love you," she said, pulling him close for a kiss.

"Let's get you cleaned up," Charles replied, pulling her to her wobbly feet.

[partycatty]

dark star!johnny cage > against the world

what it's like dating the evil version of hollywood's golden boy. it's not all fun and games, even if that's how he sees it

warnings: lowkey abusive relationship like just straight up. yandere. lil smutty but nothing horrifically graphic.

notes: listened to "wrap me in plastic" and "watch me work" while writing LMFAO also please god the coat stays ON ‼️‼️‼️‼️ hes so scrummy i need him biblically

masterlist <3

part 2* / part 3* / part 4* / part 5* / part 6*

•first of all, dark star!johnny is so incredibly emotionally immature. he's a whiny bastard fr. hell hath no fury like a white man that's in the wrong during an argument with his girlfriend

•"baaaabe what's wrong?? it was just a joke!" after he says you're a 6/10 compared to a model on his phone. ZERO awareness.

•WALL PUNCHER. IM JUST BEING HONEST. your beautiful pale pink walls have so many shoulder-height white patches from you having to fix the wall every time his water has an inadequate amount of cucumber slices.

•he's got the same upbringing as the better johnny, shitty dad and dead mom. he just never really knew how to cope with it. equally as famous as his counterpart, he prefers throwing punches in action flicks. he's just somehow more of a dick about it.

•pampered to holy hell between shots, all relaxed in his chair with his name embroidered on it while one woman tends to his makeup, another to his hair, a third feeding him water. it's how he wants it to be, he needs to be perfect. he is perfect.

•spends like two hours getting ready, most of the time is spent on his hair. you tell him it'd be more efficient to trim it down a couple inches but he likes the way it flops over. you also like the way it falls in front of his face during his stunts. he's just so effortlessly sexy.

•uses his height and physique to his advantage. he loves backing you into corners and looming above you menacingly to watch you squirm, flustered. his large sunglasses reflect your pathetic little face.

•now with you, he loves to show you off, but not enough for you to steal the spotlight. you're his favorite little accessory that hangs off his arm. he chooses your outfits when you make public appearances. INSISTS on matching all the time. misty blue dress with gold jewelry to match his obnoxiously large coat.

•the good johnny plays things up for the camera and saves the sweetness for behind closed doors. dark star!johnny doesn't know when to turn off "camera mode." bro will not be sweet with you unless it gets him brownie points after he fucks up.

•he's so unfair. women fawn over him constantly and he smiles all smugly and leans into their touches. but if a man so much as looks at you for more than a couple seconds, he's beating the guy in moments.

•hates it when you find joy in other people. he will constantly fill you with thoughts that everyone will leave you one day for one reason or another, and that you should feel lucky that a world famous actor wants you.

•will make you turn against people you hold dear, he cuts them out of your life so they can't influence you like he does. this man is a smooth talker and hardcore manipulator that'll leave you anxious when you talk to anyone but him. he has you thinking everyone's out to get you.

•"come on baby, you really think they'd love you like i do? don't be delusional. it's just you and me against the world, you got it?"

•you guys have had so many public scandals, you're the main source of income for the TMZ employees.

•sex tape here, public screaming match there

•speaking of which this dude FUCKS. HARD. :3

•johnny will literally pound you into oblivion whenever he pleases. he prefers doggystyle so he can use your hair as leverage. sometimes he reaches forward and holds your jaw, chest pressed against your back as he mercilessly fucks you. he totally gets himself off on your pathetic moans.

•records it every time. partially to jerk off to later, partially as leverage against you.

•"you like that?" he'll ask in that low growl, somehow hitting even deeper. "nobody can fuck you like i do. so don't even fucking think about leaving - ngh -"

•after an argument, you'll find gorgeous purses or necklaces on your shared vanity. not because he's sorry, but because he knows you'll forget about how annoying he can be when he shells out a couple thousand on a gift for you.

•you could honestly probably do better, but who's gonna say no to johnny cage?

[hauntedwitch04]

Shut up Rhysie and bite me

Rhysand x reader

Words: about 2.8k

Warnings: smut, fluffly, illyrian misogens, cutie Rhysie

Author's note: Hi loves<3. So first time writing an omegaverse fic, and I have so many ideas like this, hoping that I manage to write them in the future. Hope you enjoy it<3

kinktober 2024 - taglist

Being an Omega and being a woman is not easy. 

Most of the men you met in your life were scared of you, so relationships were very difficult, and the one you had was a stupid asshole that believed that they could control you and dominate you. Easy to say they were lucky to be alive, breathing and fucking other chicks without you cutting of their dicks only to think something like this. 

But what makes it even more difficult is being an Illyrian. 

When you were young you decided to run away before they could cut off your wing with your first bleeding, but after years wandering around the world, you were feeling lonely and all you wanted was being again where you grew up, so you decided to go back into the Illyrian land. 

And there the problems started. 

When you get back you remember why you escaped from this living hell. The men see you as an issue to eliminate, but you are still not ready to let a man tell you what you can and can’t do, so you start to fight your not so silent battle. 

You founded from the first moment a circuit training for women, to get stronger and to learn the basic skills to fight in case they need them against an enemy, or even their husband, but the problem is that not a single one of them would come. You would go around and ask them if they wanted to come, even for a single day and try if they like it, but their omega brains tell them to listen to their stupid alpha, and not even talk to you. 

After some weeks, some beta, then not allowed to train with the alphas would come and train with you, but other men of the camp make fun of them, for letting a woman train them, an inferior tell them what to do. That makes your nerves blow up, and you go straight to the head of the camp and throw him a punch right in the face, and after that many others. 

You get some shots too, but from how angry you are you don’t even feel them, the only thing you see is his blood coming out of his nose and the smile that forms on your face. 

“Now who is the weak one? Tell me, the frail omega or the strong alpha?” You mock him, before being knocked out by someone behind you. 

When you woke up again you were in the prison of the camp, and a man was outside of the bars. The shadows hide his face, but you could feel his power radiate from him and you feel a shiver going down your back. 

“Who are you?” You ask the figure, and you hear him laugh, before the sound of some keys ringing in the air, then the door of your dungeon opens and the man enters. You sit up straight against the wall behind you, and in response the man sits up near you, maintaining some distance. 

“The question my dear is who are you?” Says the man with a dark and seductive voice. “I never heard of you, and from what these people say you lived here many years ago, ran off and then came back, and started to “create problems”. “He says, quoting in the air with his hands what he is saying. While he does this you can see his hand clearly and you see how the veins in his hands stand out, how strong they look and you find yourself asking how they would feel against your throat or better in your-, you don’t let yourself finish the thought, feeling shame for such impure thinking on a man you don’t even know his name and that his here to punish you for your action. He smirks like he could read your mind, and you see him getting closer. Now you can see his beautiful features: his plump lips, his violet and enchanting eyes, his jaws, to not talk about his fit body that appears from the adherent suit he is wearing. 

Everything in this man screams sex god to you. 

“The head of the camp was not in really good shape when I arrived here.” He says, while still looking at you, this time studying you like you were the last treat in the whole bakery, and he would have died if he didn’t taste it. “But you are lucky I never liked him at all darling.” He continues laughing at your expression. 

“What? So-so what you’ll do to me?” You ask, and then stop yourself again with another question. “Or better, who are you?” 

He smiles at you, and comes nearer to your ear to whisper in it. You don’t get away from it, indeed you stay there and crave the closeness with the handsome stranger. 

“Believe me darling when I tell you the things I would do to you are not ones to speak aloud.” He says with a provocative voice. “And by the way I’m your High Lord.” He continues like it’s nothing. 

You stay there, frozen in your spot at the admission, even when he calls to more Illyrian men, Azriel and Cassian from what he called them, and says to them to be ready to go in some minutes. 

Without saying anything to you, in a short time you leave, and walk away from the camp through the surrounding forest. After about half an hour of walking you approach the only one of the three men to whom you had spoken. 

“So, High Lord, where are we going if you don't mind me asking? And why didn't you punish me, after all as much as you disliked me I still attacked an officer in your army.” 

He smiles at you and for a moment you pause to look at him and realize that the handsome features you had seen while you were locked in the dark in the cell was nothing compared to those now before you in the sunlight. 

He was the most beautiful creature you had ever seen. 

“Just call me Rhys darling, no need to be formal.” He says winking at you. “We're on our way to another field, one that is more open and will welcome you and allow you to train other women as you wanted to do. And no I am not going to punish you for doing what no one else had the courage to do and punishing a deserter. You have done me a great favor darling, I should thank you.” 

“Nice hook though.” Says the long-haired soldier just ahead of us, interrupting Rhys. “I am Cassian.” 

“Nice to meet you.” You answer with a smile, then continue with your questions. “Why don't we fly though, wouldn't that be faster?”

“Yes, however, the weather is not the best and we absolutely had to get out of that field before I killed someone.” The other man answers, shrouded in a blanket of shadows. 

“This is Azriel. Let's just say that if you hadn't beaten him up, he would have taken care of beating up the leader of the camp.” Rhys comments under his breath. “We will sleep in a cabin, not far from here, and in the morning we will take the flight to the new camp. The place is not bad: we eat month-old soup, and the rooms are as dirty as the horse stalls.” He continues sarcastically. 

You can't help but laugh, and for a moment you realize how comfortable and safe you feel with him, a man and an Alpha like you've never felt before. 

Arriving at the cabin you had to split in the only two bedrooms available: Azriel and Cassian, Rhysand and you. You eat something in the small tavern in the bottom of the small building lost in the mountain, and the High Lord was totally right: that soup tasted like shit. 

When you arrive in your bedroom you go straight for the bathroom where you take a quick and cold shower to take off some of the dirt from the trip. When you enter the small room again, with only a small towel on you don’t expect to see the man you are sharing the room with. When Rhys sees you he clenches his fists and turns around on the spot. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know you would be in the room.” He says while you are feeling your cheeks becoming hot. 

“Don’t worry.” You say cutting here shortly. You dress quickly and get under the cover of the bed. You decided previously that you will share the bed, since being two adults you can split it with no problem. It’s his turn for the bathroom, but when he comes out you still cannot find a way to sleep. He gets in the bed too, and turns off the lamp, so you stay there in silence waiting for Morpheus to come, when you decide that he has to answer some more questions. 

“Why did you come to get me? You could send just Azriel or Cassian, this is not something a High Lord busy as you would do.” 

“You amaze me darling, you are really one of a kind.” He comments, turning to look at you in the eyes, in the dark of this cold tavern bedroom. Feeling you shiver from the freezing temperature, he touches your arm, like asking you if he could embrace you, so you slowly nod and he wraps his body around yours. You let out a breath of relief, and in response to that pleasant warmth you rest your forehead on his chest. 

You do not know why you feel so comfortable with a stranger, but you cannot help but long for his presence. Your inner Omega right now is purring, content to rest beside the man who has bewitched you since you first met. 

“You still haven't answered the question.” You point out and he chuckles amusedly. 

“I honestly didn't even know why. When Cassian told me that you, an Omega had beaten up the leader of the camp we were planning to discharge, I couldn't help but burst out laughing, but then I felt a strange thing in my chest that told me I should go with him and Az, to see you, I felt this inhuman need to know you. I didn't even know where they were keeping you, my Alpha instinct guided me until I got in front of you and saw you, there then everything was clearer. At that exact moment I realized that I would never see a woman as beautiful as you, and it clicked-” He freezes realizing that perhaps he was pronouncing too much, but you with a hand under his chin, bring his eyes back to yours and with a firm look you dictate him to continue. 

“That's when the mating bond was triggered. I realized that you are not just an Omega I am interested in, but you are my Omega.” He confesses, pointing his violet eyes into yours. You could swear you can see in his eyes the star that glows at night in the sky of your so loved Court. 

You don’t know what will come to you, but you throw your lips on his. He kisses you back in the moment they touch, so that this dance of passion begins. 

You never felt something like this with your past lovers. This pure sensation of being loved, of having found the other perfect half of yourself, your mate and Alpha. 

His hand starts wandering near your hip, going back and then cupping your ass, to make you closer to him. Your lips never part, like if glue was poured on them the moment they enter in contact. Your hand entangled in his hair, tugging them makes him moan. 

You stay there making out like a couple of horny teenagers for what seems years, when you get quite needy and his kisses are not enough anymore for you. 

You tug his shirt off, parting only for a moment from his mouth, and in these seconds it is like you can’t breathe anymore, because he has become your oxygen. 

He does the same with the excuse of dress you are wearing as pajama, and in a pair of second you are bare in front of each other. You lips are not anymore on his lips but they’re on his neck, leaving mark and bite, saying the world that he belong to you and to no other, while he moans for the pleasure you provoke him. He take you face in his hands, leaving a sweet kiss on you mouth, before going and doing the same as you did, kissing and biting all the skin from your ear to the valley of your breast, but leaving untouched the mating gland. 

You whimper under his sweet attack, pleading him of doing more. 

“Please Rhys, make me yours.” You ask him in a whisper, like if neither you could process the words. You are not scared of them, but you are only too happy to feel them as real probably. 

“Are you sure? We can always wait until you are. I want you to be certain of your choice.-”

“Shut up Rhysie and bite me.” You say to him, kissing his neck, and feeling him stiffens. 

He doesn’t wait anymore and puts his cock into you, making you both moan. He begins to move slowly, but after a few thrusts he starts to go faster. 

You close your eyes and bring your head back onto the pillow, while he is on top of you moving between your legs, leaving uncovered your mating gland for him, letting him choose when to bite you and make you his. 

You feel your Omega being satisfied with being connected with her mate and Alpha, being happy and complete for the first time in your life like no other time. The pace of his pushes quicken again, and you start to feel your orgasm approach, feeling that he is near too. 

His dick touches  parts of you that no other lover before ever touched, making you feel a whole new kind of pleasure you don’t think you could experience. 

When you feel like you arrived on the peak, ready to fall and let yourself indulge in the sensation of your high, Rhys decided to bite you, making this feeling even better for you. You can say that you see the ancients gods with the orgasm he took out of you. 

You stay put for minutes, coming down to your high, until you can feel your legs again. 

“That was the best orgasm of my life.” You whisper with your eyes still closed. 

Rhys laughs, kissing softly on your cheek. 

“Happy to hear this darling.” He responds, nuzzling his nose in the crook of your neck, licking the bite mark that he just left, both for a feeling of possession and to make this heal faster and better. “I want you to bite me too.” He continues, and you look at him shocked. Not many Alphas let their Omegas bite them, because they think that the omegas belong to them and not the other way around, so without a bite mark they still could fool around with other omegas. 

But your Alpha is different, and you knew it from the first moment you saw him. 

“I want you to be my equal. You are my half, my soul mate, and I want everyone to know that they belong to you.” He finishes taking your hand in his, since you both set up by now. 

You feel a tear or two escape from your eyes, he quickly dries them. 

“If you don’t want to I totally understand, and you can always say no darling, I don’t to put too much pressure on you. I know this thing is totally new for you and-” You stop his rumbling kissing him. 

“I know you from less than 24 hours and I can proudly say that I’m more than happy to be your mate, to be your Omega and that I love you. It sounds crazy to me to say it, but I love you. I really do, and I’m more than honored to mark you as mine, I was crying because I’m so happy right now. It all feels like a dream.” You say, kissing his hands. 

“It’s not a dream my love, it’s all real, I’m real and I love you too.” He says, kissing your hands too in response. You smile at him and then you come near him, and bite the base of his neck, marking him. You feel the same possessive behavior it took the best of him before coming all over you. You kiss, lick and bite his skin, feeling him whimper. 

When you are satisfied with the result you look again straight in his eyes. 

“I think you just got me hard all over again darling.” He jokes, breaking the atmosphere that the sex and the confession created before. You laugh at his words, and then you whisper in ear while you wink at him. 

“We are lucky we have all night.” 

TAGLIST:

@alinabookworm @lynbubble @kissesfromnovalie @frivvi0-0 @darkprincesslut @eunjiji @rebecca-hvnstn @fandoms-are-my-h0me @throwing-up-butterflies

[riverbutghost]

He is much more older than you - part 3

part 1 || part 2 / this is weird. I don’t feel good these days. Forgive me please, i love you 💕

When Simon saw you, the first thing he thought was how beautiful you were. Just like many other soldiers and rookies.

When Soap was talking to you for the first time, Simon hesitated to introduce himself to you. He wasn’t shy or anything, God, he was far from that. He knew what to say to make a woman fall in love with him, but still he hesitated. You were younger, so much younger than him.

He tried everything to ignore you, to ignore his feelings for you. He failed. His heart failed.

The day you first sucked his cock, was on his mind every day and night.

He still remembered the way your hands felt around him, the way your lips parted to take his cock like the good little girl you were.

“Mhm, yeah. Good fuckin’ girl. Takin’ me so well, so fuckin’ well.”

He moaned and groaned, kept pushing his hips back against the wall to savor the feeling of your mouth.

He came so hard…and fast, much to his dismay. But he wasn’t the one to complain.

He came to his senses after realizing what had happened, and he wanted to knock himself out. He was your superior, he was your lieutenant. He was twice your age. It wasn’t appropriate, it wasn’t normal. It was unprofessional of him.

“Get out. Just get out, leave my office.”

He muttered to you while zipping up his pants, and the pure hurt that crossed your face was something he regretted for a brief moment.

You complied, though. You got out and never looked back. You heard his fist punching the wall, but you ignored. After getting back into your room, you let out the most painful sob ever. You cried, cried and cried until the sun came up again.

You questioned yourself. Was it normal for you to like a guy who was much more older than you? Was it normal that he let you suck his cock? Did he regret it? Yes. Did he just use you for his own pleasure, just like the other women?

It was infuriating. This wasn’t just heartbreak, this was far from that, that you couldn’t name.

Wiping away your tears, you decided to take some medicine from the kitchen. Your brain was mushy, and all you needed was an Advil.

Getting out of your room, you double checked the corridor for anyone and after finding none you walked down to the kitchen.

A gasp left your mouth as you came face to chest with the heartbreaker.

You looked down and stepped aside, leaving him behind with a confused expression.

“Sergeant,”

“I’ve already talked to Price. I’m not coming to the training.”

You cut him off mid sentence, and mumbled with a cracked voice. You heard him sigh with a heavy voice, then steps were coming towards you.

He stood next to you, not saying a word.

“I want you to understand, that this- is not appropriate.”

You snorted a laugh, but you were far from happy.

“Oh yeah it’s not, so you used my fucking mouth to cum?”

He growled out a curse word, his chest vibrating next to your head.

“Language.”

You angrily slammed the glass on the counter, and turned to look at him.

His eyes took you in fully, your red nose and puffy eyes made his heart clench.

“Language? You know what? Fuck you! I’m done with this shit, okay?”

You yelled, and he closed his eyes. It was silent for a moment before he opened his eyes again.

“ I just don’t want you to feel bad after we start..this.”

You sighed and gripped your nose, feeling like crying again. Why wouldn’t he just give in, it was exhausting.

“I-“

You took a deep breath.

“Y’know what I want? All I want is you. Yeah, you. Not your cock, not your mouth. Your heart is what I want, what I need Ghost.”

Simon’s heart started pounding against his ribcage, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Pretty girl…I’ve never given my heart to anyone before is what you forget.”

He mumbled and took a step forward, hand reaching out to wipe your eyes. You shuddered and threw your arms around him, and he chuckled.

“Sweet little girl wants my heart, hm?”

He smiled, eyes softened as he looked at the window to see the reflections of you two.

“Don’t cry over me, yeah?”

You sniffled and hugged him tighter. Finally feeling peace again. Your headache was worse by now, but this was worth it.

“Don’t make me cry, then.”

He smiled again, and put his chin down on your head.

“Let me make it up to, pretty girl.”

[seancekitsch]

Can I ask you a Question?: An Adrian Chase x Reader Kinktober fic

here it is! the first fic of kinktober :) all of these are gonna be shorties but smutty

warnings: sex pollen, dub con, rough sex, spitting, slightest degradation, 

Heat spreads along your skin as you stare at the wall, a single focused point in the absolutely unremarkable plain wall of the ARGUS issued motel room, and still managing to fail completely at ignoring the other more than warm body in the room. Anger bubbles as you think about how you were shoved in here kicking and screaming in protest. It's not your fault and you should be allowed to sweat this out at home. Why does Chris even have a pheromone helmet to begin with? Why does that one just activate whenever it wants to like a malfunctioning furby? You wish you could have gotten a good punch in before Emilia shoved you in here claiming a needed quarantine, even though as Adrian pointed out, there are air ducts in the room which means nothing is airtight and if you and the air around you is the issue then the whole building is fucked.

Adrian sits beside you staring at the wall the same as you, but he walked in here willingly. He didn’t have to be in here; he doused himself in solidarity with women or some absolute bullshit that you barely heard over the near immediate effects it had on your body and the intense rush of heat towards your abdomen. You wonder if he’s feeling as hot and squirmy as you at this point, he has to be, unless he wasn't actually lying about being unnaturally fast at healing. If you were alone you’d be ripping your clothes off and hoping the sheets are cool, or maybe taking an ice bath and watching the most ick-inducing hallmark movie your can find. But instead you try to wait it out… however long it lasts. 

“Hey, can I ask you…?” Adrian trails off mid sentence, god, your scowl must be nastier than you think. 

“Ask,” you grit out, teeth bared as you try not to shiver under his gaze. Fuck, he’s so hot. Fucking annoying sometimes, but fucking hot. 

“Are you horny?”

What, like he’s going to do something about it? Heat bubbles and pools between your legs in embarrassment, even though the situation is already clear. How you’d like to just snap and ride his face, knocking those cute dorky glasses askew or— fucking shit dude. This is bad. You make the mistake of shifting how you sit. 

“I was dosed with pheromones,” you snap back, doing everything in your power to hide the the moan in your voice. 

“I know, but is it working?”

You feel yourself clench around nothing, the friction of your tight jeans a blessing and a curse right now. There’s no teasing in his tone, just genuine curiosity. You love that about him, but god does that make this harder.

“Is it working on you?” you sigh, trying to stay as still as possible, trying not to set your own body aflame. 

“Oh yeah!” he confirms, “I’ve been rock hard since before they threw us in here.”

“Please don’t give me that mental image,” you snap, and he immediately apologizes profusely, the hint of a frown on the corners of his lips. Shit, you’ve probably upset him and made him think you’re grossed out. He shifts farther away from you and groans at the movement. He’s got it just as bad as you. 

“I mean— with everything going on right now, I can’t handle that. Not you,” you try to reassure him. 

 “Oh! Well that makes perfect sense. I don’t know what I’d do if you said something like, ‘I’m so wet right now’ I’d probably—“

“You know what Adrian? I’ll answer your question. Yes, I’m horny… and you’re not helping the situation.”

“Should I leave?”

You look at him with pinched brows, incredulous.

“Emilia will probably kill you if you try.”

He grumbles something about being able to handle a stupid little bullet. 

Your eyes follow up and down his body, tracing and following the dips and bulges of his muscles to where they become obscured by armor, biting your lip to suppress a moan. You know he’s a good fighter, and it probably translates well in the bedroom. Christ, what those biceps could do, those arms wrapped around you and— head out of the gutter, you tell yourself, but it’s too damn hard, and you betray yourself and your mind flashes back to imagining his arms wrapped around you while he takes you from behind. An embarrassing little whimper escapes your lips as another wave of heat floods your core. Damn it. 

He flinches at the noise, because of course he heard it, that’s just your luck. His fists clench and unclench, gloves discarded so you can see the whites of his knuckles. He’s holding back, and he’s struggling with it. 

“Hey,” he starts, voice much more shaky than before, “What if we—“

“Yes,” you agree without thinking. Whatever it is. Yes. Whatever he wants. However he wants you. 

“Wait- Really?” he asks, voice rising in shock as he gets up, and then stumbles, clearly thrown off by his own arousal. Fuck. You lean back onto the bed, humming in pleasure as you do, trying to look as appealing as possible despite the sweat on your brow and the state of your dishevelment, even though judging by the bulge in his pants you don’t need to go through these extra steps. You lay against the sheets and throw your head back, showing off your neck and hoping he’ll sink those pearly whites into the side of your neck. 

But then he confuses you by heading towards the bathroom, walking awkwardly.

You pick your head back up, panic shooting through you. Did you get the wrong idea?

“Where are you going?” your voice does nothing to hide your desperation, and maybe you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on its starting to hurt. 

He has the nerve to look at you like you have three heads, that jerk. 

“I thought you said yes? I was gonna go jerk off in the bathroom while you do whatever you do best in here?” he hovers in the doorway with odd energy (well, odder than normal) and tilts his chin at you as if its a challenge. 

“Where are you going?” your voice does nothing to hide your desperation, and maybe you’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so turned on its starting to hurt. 

He has the nerve to look at you like you have three heads, that jerk. 

“I thought you said yes? I was gonna go jerk off in the bathroom while you do whatever you do best in here?” he hovers in the doorway with odd energy (well, odder than normal) and tilts his chin at you as if its a challenge. 

“Oh!” you exclaim a little too loudly, “Oh, I didn’t know thats what I was agreeing to.”

You smile sheepishly as he walks back into the room proper. 

“What, did you think I was suggesting we should tear each others clothes off and do things to each other?” he scoffs, and even though his face is flushed he still tries to joke as if he’s functioning like normal. Well, Adrian’s version of normal. Yeah, you totally did, and you misread this. But even his condescending tone has you pressing your thighs together and fills your head with the imagery of it all. 

“Well…” you trail off, not really sure where to go from here. You’ve reached an impasse of unbearable arousal, a work colleague, and the distance of about ten feet. Talk about shitting where you eat. 

Adrian blinks twice.

“Is what I just said an option?” he asks, his voice rising half an octave, “Because if it totally is, I change my suggestion. I was just trying not to be sexist because I remember you telling me to watch how I talk sometimes about women after I rated the team on how much I’d like to motorboat them and you were on the top of the list.”

Yeah, you remember that night. You slapped the hell out of Adrian right after that.

“Maybe you should come join me on the bed,” you suggest, and he crosses the room as if zapped with a cattle prod. 

The bed dips as his knees press into the mattress, and your hand involuntarily reaches out along the sheets closer to his heat to share it. 

He flops himself down next to you, grunting as he does so, leaning in close to you, but not touching you. God, you wish he was touching you right now.

“How do you want to do this?” you ask, your lips moving of their own desperate accord.

“Well, this isn’t how I thought I’d woo you,” Adrian admits. Woo you? Was he planning on making a move? Oh, shit. The pressures on now. You don’t exactly have a crush on Adrian but you’d never turn a body like that attached to a genuinely sweet dude like that down. 

“But?” you urge him on, placing your hand closest to him on his, making your move known. 

“But fuck it,” he shrugs and pulls you in for a rough kiss; a little too much teeth and a little too much tongue but you drink it in, pulling him in closer and gripping at his uniform.

He moans loudly into your mouth, only spurring you on to grab him more, pull him flush against you to soothe the heat inside you. It works, sort of. The heat quells for a moment when you feel his hardness press against you; but it’s only replaced by another heat, an arguably worse one. It’s the need to have him inside you, to let him wreck you, destroy you. He shifts his position to trap you beneath him, rolling you onto your back. He cages you in with his arms and legs, presses his hips into yours harshly, the fire is fed, growing stronger. You want out of these jeans and to pull him into you, want to cover him and yourself in bruises by the end of this. He moves from your lips to your mouth and you gasp, gulping at air as his lips and teeth move to your cheek and your chin and your jaw; he’s sloppy and rushed and feverish in his pace, trying to experience all of you as soon as possible.

“How do you want to do this?” Adrian asks, glasses knocked askew against the side of your face.

“Need you,” you pant, already lightheaded from making out like some novice. He rocks his hips up into your absentmindedly as he continues to press kisses into your jawline, himself desperate for friction. He chuckles.

“Need you too,” Adrian sighs, and picks his head up. You almost want to whine because he isn’t kissing you anymore.

“Do you want Adrian?” he asks, and for a moment you don’t understand, “Or do you want Vigilante?”

Fuck, how do you choose? Aren’t they both just him in some capacity? You don’t exactly know what either entails, but your brain is foggy and slow, needing and yearning and making your body writhe under him instead of thinking clearly.

“I want… fuck,” you interrupt yourself, and he pulls back to kneel on his knees above you. He looks like a god under the cheap fluorescents, the god of fumbling upwards.

“Use your words,” he demands, and you can tell he’s made the choice for you. Fuck yeah. 

“I- I want it rough,” you squirm under his gaze, your hands traveling from the sheets to the fly of your jeans, unbuttoning them preemptively. Adrian’s eyes flicker down to your hands and then back up to your face, and he smirks. 

“You think you can handle it?” he asks, newfound confidence as he moves one hand down to palm himself through his uniform pants. You nod weakly, licking your bottom lip. He tilts his head as if to shrug and uses his free hand to pull you up by your shoulder.

“Open?” he asks, as you get your arms under you to sit up. You obey immediately, opening your mouth for him and sticking your tongue out obediently. He smiles, before spitting directly into your open mouth. You swallow gladly, and the fire is stoked momentarily, as if having some of him quelled the hunger within. 

“Good girl,” he says, pushing you back down into the mattress before his hands begin roaming your body, he pushes up your shirt roughly, his warm hands splaying across bare skin, the expanse of your abdomen. His hips roll into yours again, rougher this time. When his lips capture your own, his teeth sink into your bottom lip. Your hands come up around his neck, fingers tangling themselves in his curls and pulling. He groans against your mouth, biting down. You gasp at the first copper taste of blood.

Adrian’s hands dip lower, finishing the job unzipping your jeans and hastily starting to push them down over the curve of your ass. You help him by pushing your hips up into his, giving him more wiggle room while you can rub yourself against him. He shoves the jeans down to your ankles and then stops. 

“Turnin’ you over,” he explains, and pulls your arms away from him. He removes himself from you, but only briefly. Just long enough to maneuver you onto your stomach for him and to pull your panties down to meet where your jeans confine you. 

He presses a hot hand to you, coating his fingers where you already soaked through your panties. He hums in appreciation. 

“Is this from the pheromones or from Vigilante at work?” he asks, and you groan, this time not from pleasure. 

“Ugh, shut the fuck up, Adrian,” you sigh. Of course, it’s a mix of both. The pheromones are actively probably killing you with hormones but Adrian himself is hot even if you haven’t admitted that to him. He responds with a sharp slap to your ass that makes you yelp, loud and actually embarrassing. 

“Call me Vigilante,” he tells you, and then you hear the zipper of his pants release. 

His full length enters you with no warning, but meets no resistance. You’re so slick and wet from everything, but you’ll let him stroke his ego if it means he keeps himself against you. Adrian wraps his arms around your middle, using it as leverage to slam into you harder; your body a tool to get off, but equally his body a tool to stoke the fires and make you feel real again. But fuck, if you don’t actually love this. This is the way you wish dates fucked you, the harshness and care rolled into one. Adrian’s hand wraps around you, shoved between your body and the mattress to your clit, rubbing in tight circles.  Fire ignites more, like a candle to a campfire. Adrian’s weight pushes you into the mattress, one hand pressed to the bare skin of your abdomen and the other between your legs.

“Fuck, Vigilante,” you moan, a particular movement of his middle finger making you buckle even more into the mattress below him. 

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, and presses harder. The fire stokes and spikes and calms and crescendos. Adrian’s hips don’t let up, thrusting hard and hateful, trying to break your frame with every move. Adrian will break you, and you’ll probably let him. You’ll probably let him do anything if he makes you come in the next ten seconds. 

“Are you only this slutty for me?” Adrian asks, and you nod into the pillow eagerly, whining and leaning harder into his thrusts. At this point, they hurt. It’s to the point he’s bruising your entire ass. Yeah, only for him. It’s not like your dating pool is huge here but it’s also not like you’d let anyone else on the team see you like this, but also Adrian has a certain charm to him. 

“I’m gonna- I—“ you pant, and he only speeds up the pace of his fingers and hips.

“That’s right, come for Vigilante,” he coos, and it’s like every fiber of your being releases it’s tension. 

You shout, pressing your face into the pillow as you do to avoid any embarrassing terms of endearment towards the man above you.  The shaking starts in your core, and the spreads outward. Heat spreads and explodes into almost cold in your toes afterwards. Your limbs go rigid under him. 

“That’s it, baby,” he hums, but he holds you through it, his arms holding you in place.

“Fuck!” you shout, and a particularly hard jolt of your nerves punches through you, and Adrian stills behind you. That’s all it took for Adrian to come, and he spills into you, holding you against him and moaning wantonly. 

You both breathe deeply as you try to calm down, not at all separating. You center yourself, trying to say some shit you remember from a college yoga course. You can’t see Adrian’s face, but he keeps kissing you business as usual. 

“Can we do this again?” Adrian asks, and you think for a moment. He’s a fucking psycho, maybe? but you’ve already fucked him.

“Sure,” you say, you voice still muffled by the pillow.

Why not.

[izzabela]

HALLOOO... I really love your work sooo much, jshsjsjshsjs. I can't get enough to re-read, so... can I get a request about the lin kuei Bros or earthrealms champion or both? so the reader has a sakura power (from Naruto), you know healing power and a MONSTER PUNCH so their friend/girlfriend on period and got sooo moody when she watched her friends/boyfriends not around her to calming her (cuz period was so suck and cramps hurt like hell) when she seeing (one of the lin kuei bros or earthrealms champions make a mess to her) and she was sooo mad and didn't realize she punch him in the face until it hits the wall. and the rest I leave to you.

sorry if my English is not understandable and messy (this is my first request, so I'm typing it with a lot of nerves). Thank youu

Packs a Punch - Roster Fic (not all of them are included)

in which your menstrual cycle affects those around you in a different way

a/n: i'm starting my period! also, i really tried to write for all of them, but i fear my brain has run out of juice...

ship[s]: johnny cage, geras, raiden, tomas vrbada x f!reader

warning(s): none, f!reader = f!genitalia, menstruation (though, people should be more informed on it regardless), throwing in some real examples from myself and other women around me

Dearest, gentle reader, periods suck- but so does having incredible healing power and super strength.

And when hormones and powers combine, a recipe of disaster is baked into reality. Luckily, your "reality" consisted of magic, gods, and eccentric people in a world 99% of the population hasn't even heard of.

Even so, sometimes they feel your wrath- even when it isn't your fault.

====================

Johnny Cage

- poor Johnny, subjected to the mercy of your power during this month's round of menstruation, especially since he's been gone for a couple of weeks for a mission

- poor guy, bringing flowers, chocolate, even a new heat packet with the latest tech (he realized heat was great aid in helping you relax)

- he was so sure he told you he'd be gone for a while during this mission, but all memory is gone when the only thing you're trying to survive your insane mood swings and even crazier cramps

- coming in your shared home, Johnny carefully treads the eerily dark and quiet home. he sees a lump on the couch, and every tip-toe closer to you is a year of his life getting crossed off his timeline

- he can hear you sniffling, and when Johnny just barely utters a soft (and wary) "hello," Johnny's sealed his fate

- you're ripping him a new one, crying about how he left you alone to deal with your cramps. how you had to take more advil and ibuprofen than the recommended limit, and how you missed him so

- Johnny's trying to approach you, carefully inching closer and closer to you with all of his peace offerings. honestly, it irks you more that he's treating you like a feral animal than a girlfriend

- "You left me, and now you look at me like I'm some helpless mutt?!"

- one minute, Johnny's seeing your tear-stained face. the next, he's seeing a playback of his life (was it always so vain?). he's also feeling the ground (except, it's supposed to be carpet, so why does it feel like drywall and wood?)

- it's not until his nose tingles, a reaction from the wood-dust and drywall shavings, and he sneezes, and he looks between you and wherever he was laying

- a comedically large, human-shaped hole was imprinted into the wall, and he can't even begin to process it as he's coaxing you to stop wasting tears on a "valid, totally valid" human reaction

Raiden

- Raiden asked his sister to describe her period symptoms in full detail once when he was fifteen (it earned him a slap in the face from her and more chores from his mother). still, she gave him the information, and it remained dormant in his mind until he met his girlfriend-you

- Raiden was attuned to the requirements to keep you comfortable during your period: hot towels, ice packs, warm baths, massages, tea, your favorite snacks and food- he has everything ready to make sure that each menstruation period of yours goes as smoothly as possible

- except when it doesn't

- it's really not his fault, you came home from Madame Bo's short-breathed and panting, sweat lining your forehead as you dropped everything and laid on the floor

- and you'd been dealing with the most awful customers, all of this not being Raiden's fault as he walks in to find you exhausted and drained

- "Are you alright, love?!" he calls out, kneeling down to get you off the dirty floor and to a cleaner space. you sigh, shaking your head as you keep yourself from letting frustrated tears fall

- you allow him to work on you, Raiden wiping your face and makeup off, wiping down your sweaty body, even him kissing your hands and everywhere else as he takes care of you

- it frustrated you, honestly, with how well he could handle everything while you were breaking apart (it's not your fault, but you're not really listening to your brain either)

- he notices your wobbly chin, and the simple question of "What's wrong, lovely?" has you breaking faster than water rushing through a dam

- you admit through warbled noises and wet tears that you hate how well-together he is, how he's always on top of everything, while you're breaking down. you also took this time to cry about work at the restaurant

Geras

- never did Geras think that someone like you could allow him to feel so human. me smiles just a little more, and you've gotten him to chuckle a few times

- though, he still lacks knowledge in other mortal/human things, especially how women's biology works, and yet he does his best to accommodate you

- Geras always brings you tea freshly brewed by Liu Kang for your periods. he's learned how to give massages as well, to ease the pain in your lower back and hips

- Geras has even asked for a sunroom to be built in the Wu Shi, Fire Temple, and the Hourglass realm- places that are familiar to both you and him. still, not even that is enough to save him from your hormonal wrath

- during this period, no tea, massages or sunlight could quell the frustration that bubbled within you. you had been waiting for ages for Geras to open the portal from the academy to the fire temple- it had been three hours since his scheduled time to do so

- cramps already twisting your insides, a searing pain in your bum, and a pulsing in your head indicated that this would not be a good week for you- and Geras just had to make it worse

- your strength got the better of you, stomping into the ground and leaving footprints into the concrete. kicking rocks didn't help either, as the projectiles brought fear to the unlucky students that were walking near you

- when Geras finally shows up, you've practically leveled the courtyard. with that glare you're giving the immortal man, he might as well be next

- "for three hours, Geras!" you screech, holding three fingers up into his face. "three! it's already hot enough with the sun out, but the fact my cramps made it even more unbearable- and this migraine! no water helped me with this either!

- you're giving him a (reasonable) earful on tardiness, how you were sweating in the scorching weather, and how he just forgot about you. obviously, the last wasn't true, he just got caught up in hourglass duties he didn't realize time passed (and can you blame him? he's dealt with enough of it...)

- "i just... i just can't believe you didn't watch the time!" you swung your arms down into his chest, and though he blocked it, he wasn't able to lock his feet in place to deal with the recoil

- he was basically punched into the wooden wall of one of the rooms of the academy. thankfully, no one was inside, but it doesn't cover up the fact he left a huge, Geras-shaped hole in the wall

- you rush over to him, frantically wiping all the splinters off his back and sides, even cleaning up the nicks of blood that began to peek through his skin

- "this is nothing, dearest," he said calmly as he wiped the precipitate off your forehead. "for the pain you endured due to my lack of diligence take more concern."

Tomas Vrbada

- Tomas doesn't remember how he dealt with his sister's periods. if anything, though, he hopes that it wasn't anything close to yours

- it's not that he doesn't love you (he has a ring all ready for you), it's just that he values his life just as much as he loves you. and honestly? he can't keep going into the infirmary of the Shirai Ryu every single month during your shark week

- this week is particularly awful: puking every morning, heat flashes, even fainting- you were not having this feeling of debilitating hopelessness stop you from continuing your daily tasks

- Tomas put you back into bed, strictly forbidding you from doing anything. while that did help some, it could've helped more if he was next to you. it didn't help that he didn't bother to check up on you the entire day

- which leads him into the current moment, trying to calm you down from a fit of pent up rage from today

- "i get that your clan means a lot to you," you began, "but I just don't understand how you couldn't take just a couple of minutes to see me?"

- you keep listing the things he should've done: should've kissed your head as a sign, should've brought you food instead of the servants, should've should've should've

- "Am I just that unbearable?" you probe, and Tomas ferverously shakes his head no. "I don't understand why you didn't see me!"

- Tomas, trying to explain his poor choices, didn't have time to react to the flurry of emotions that came out of you

- bits of anger, lots of frustration, and even more tears, Tomas was finally close enough to give you a hug- at least he thought

- no longer were you in his immediate vision, and instead he saw you running towards him, running past the drag marks in the wooden floors and through sliding door's latest design choice (why did the hole look so much like him?)

- you pet Tomas's hair, stroking the ash-colored hair and peppered his forehead and face in kisses. more tears ensued as you began to chant apologies and "i love you's"

- "no no," he said weakly, getting up from his spot in the gravel (so the courtyard was where I ended up, he thought). "i must apologize for my behavior. And if you like, we can make it up now since brother has released me from my duties."

=====================

i hope you liked this req! i really tried to add more but this is all my brain could allow me, i wrote them

i'll see yall in the next fic!

[wordsofelie]

Chapter 1

🎋The footprints he etched on the earth

Bokuto x f!reader

Prequel : 🌌The stars he left in the sky (can be read as a standalone)

Summary : The stars he left in the sky are nothing compared to the footprints he etched on the earth.

or when you meet bokuto koutarou and wonder if you’ve ever truly known beauty before him.

Context warning: time skip setting, ex!oikawa, alcohol consumption, swearing, a lot of french words sorry

Words count: 3.1k

chapter 2 - chapter 3 - chapter 4

You’re grateful for the life you’ve been given. You’re healthy, you have a loving family with supportive parents and a funny little brother. You’ve worked hard to become a pâtissière and had great opportunities in Europe. But right now, as your boss argues that a Tatin tart and a Normande tart are essentially the same thing, you can’t help but think the gods are conspiring against you.

“Huh? What’s the problem? They both have apples in them,” he dares insisting.

You’ve studied in Paris. Paris, France. Alongside the best chefs in the world. And yet, here you are, being contradicted by a fifty-something man on something so basic. You’re not just being told you’re wrong, but in front of colleagues and even a few customers.

So, yes, you’re grateful for your life. But you’d be even more grateful if you could punch that man in the face. Of course, you won’t. You can’t. You need this job to pay your bills, your rent (because Tokyo is expensive), and to save for building the pâtisserie you’ve dreamed of for years. You know exactly what it’ll look like—where the counter will be, what colour the walls will be. Everything is planned, except for one detail: how and where you’ll actually get the place.

You force out an apology. It’s painfully obvious that it isn’t sincere, but you bow anyway, hoping it hides your annoyed expression. Then, you retreat to the back room because the croissants are ready and even though you hate your boss, you hate letting food burn in the oven more.

Days have felt repetitive since you arrived in Tokyo six months ago. Your routine begins at 4 a.m., with a quick breakfast. Most mornings, your roommate, Umi, is still awake, surrounded by her mountain of medical textbooks. You don’t know how she manages to decipher the words in her books because the light from her desk is dim (well, that might be the reason why she’s using glasses now).

“I’ll be back around five,” you say, even though she knows your schedule by heart.

“Got it. Have a good day!”

“And have a good night,” you reply with a smile.

The walk to the bakery is usually pleasant. You love seeing the sunrise over Tokyo—except now it’s May, and the weather is horrible. Still, you’ve never regretted moving here. You remember your professor in Paris warning you about how tough and unfair the culinary world can be, especially for women. It didn’t deter you. You’ve never wanted fame; you just want to open a pâtisserie and make people happy with your creations. For now, though, gaining more experience is your priority, so you work at a well-known bakery in Shibuya.

It’s only temporary, it’s only temporary, you often need to remind yourself—especially on tough days like today.

You don’t think you’re gaining a lot of practical skills but at least, you’ve learned a bit of humility here (no matter how forced and unfair it feels).

When you return home that evening, you’re not expecting much. When Umi comes home later, she often brings groceries or takeout. For someone who bakes, you’re surprisingly terrible at cooking savoury dishes. Umi discovered this shortly after you moved in, watching you struggle to roast vegetables or boil an egg.

Weeks of your culinary disasters led her to casually take over dinner duties. Ever since then, she’s been the one in charge and seems satisfied with it. You don’t mind—it’s a fair trade, especially since she’s a great cook.

“My dad was awful in the kitchen, so I had to take over cooking for me and my siblings,” she once explained. “I also had two neighbours who played sports. I made bentos for them all the time. I mean, I used to help their mother make them, she’s the one who taught me everything about cooking. One of the twins would help, but the other was a total ungrateful bastard who just ate everything.”

In return, you sneak pastries home from your workplace (a small rebellion against your boss) and make pancakes on the weekends.

Tonight, you’ve just stepped out of the shower when Umi bursts through the door.

“Hiii!” she exclaims brightly. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” you reply, keeping it short.

You’re usually good at hiding negative emotions—your teachers in Paris were brutally harsh at times, and showing weakness only invited more criticism (maybe even exclusion) . But with Umi, it’s different. She has an uncanny ability to read people’s feelings and make you feel comfortable with those feelings.

“I grew up with two younger siblings, an introverted best friend, and childhood friends who were all boys,” she told you. “I’ve basically seen every version of emotional repression there is.”

So, it doesn’t take her long to figure out you’re upset.

“Bad day?” she asks. “Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just… my boss,” you mutter.

“What did that old geezer do this time?”

You sigh. “He was wrong about something, I tried to explain that he made a mistake but he just looked down on me. But I’m not surprised, he would rather die than admit that a girl like me is right… But honestly, it’s not just him. It’s the industry. It’s always like this.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird how everyone just accepts it and nothing changes.” She lets out a dramatic groan. “You know what the problem is? Men.”

You chuckle at that, it’s her usual response to every issue (not that you would deny it though).

You slump into the chair and press your face against the palm of your hand, when she suddenly pulls out a bottle of red wine from her bag.

You raise an eyebrow.

“You know I’m not that desperate to the point where I need to drink to deal with a bad day, right?”

“This isn’t about your bad day,” she grins. “It’s about celebrating.”

“Celebrating what? My shitty boss?”

“Let me explain!” she says, rushing to the kitchen to grab glasses. “You know my childhood friend, the one with the restaurant in Osaka?”

“The twin who isn’t an ungrateful bastard?”

“Yes, but his name is Osamu, I already told you. Anyway, a shop next to his restaurant just closed, and the landlady is looking to sell. Osamu knows her and I mentioned you’re looking for a place to open your bakery.”

You open your mouth to correct her (it’s a pâtisserie not a bakery!) but decide to you let her finish instead.

“He said he could arrange a meeting for you. Interested?”

Osaka. You’ve never been there, but the idea intrigues you. People from Kansai are known for their warmth and humour—so different from the quiet of your hometown in Miyagi. Change might be good, you find yourself thinking.

“Sure, I’d be interested,” you say cautiously (in case it doesn't work, don't get your hopes up).

“Great! Osaka is the best, and I know people there who can help you settle in. I’d recommend looking at apartments in—”

“Umi, I haven’t even seen the place yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she says confidently. “Just make them try your strawberry and cream tart. No one can say no to that!”

You laugh. “You mean the fraisier?”

“Gods, yes. Just use that sexy French accent of yours, and they’ll agree in no time.”

“Whatever you say,” you can’t help but laugh a little. “The wine is French, huh?”

She pours a generous amount into your glass, “of course. Last time I brought Californian you almost killed me.”

You take a look at the bottle to check if she’s telling the truth. You nod proudly and she smiles back.

“To your bakery!” She raises her glass and so do you.

A few days later, after pretending to be bedridden by a sudden and debilitating cold to take a fews days off from work (to which your boss complains), you find yourself standing at the station ready to leave for Osaka.

Umi had given you everything you needed: Miya Osamu's number, his address, and an enthusiastic list of typical Kansai expressions.

When you arrive there, you immediately search for “Onigiri Miya” on your phone. When you check it you are nothing but impressed by the 5 stars behind the name and the hundred and hundred of good comments.

Will you also get that someday?

Will your pâtisserie gather many people and be a place of happiness?

You try not to think too much about it, because with the flicker of hope comes fear, and you don’t have time to be negative. You have to move forward and put on a brave face, that’s what you’ve been taught.

As you step off the train and start to look for the right bus, a voice calls out behind you.

“Yer Umi’s roommate, right?”

You turn around to see a man with short brown hair. There’s a relaxed air about him that makes you feel comfortable.

“Miya-san?” you assume.

“The good one, yeah,” he replies with a boyish smile. You think his Kansai accent adds an easy charm to his voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you to come. I could have taken the bus, I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Nah, yer not. Follow me.”

He offers to carry your bag and leads you to his car, parked just outside the station.

The ride is mostly food-related, he tells you about his business. How he started as the employee of an old man who had a ramen restaurant, which eventually became his. How he transformed it into an onigiri restaurant before opening a second shop recently in Tokyo.

“Why onigiri?” you ask, genuinely curious.

He thinks for a moment. “I guess… it reminds me of home. My Ma’ used to make ’em all the time when we were kids. And I love makin’ ’em myself. Like, physically usin’ my hands. Does that make sense?”

“It does,” you say with a small smile. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about your mother’s cooking.”

“It’s the best,” he says, and his tone turns soft. “Though, she didn’t really teach me much about baking. That’s why I’m impressed by what ya do.”

His compliment takes you by surprise, you restrain yourself from smiling with all your teeth.

You meet the landlady the minute you step out of the car. She listens to you carefully and even though you try not to overthink it, she seems more than happy at the idea of opening a French pâtisserie in the neighbourhood.

Osamu mentions after the meeting how you definitely “won her over with how detailed and motivated ya were.”

You don’t tell him that it only makes sense because you’ve dreamed of owning a place for years. You’ve imagined everything, thought about it during sleepless nights and overworked days. It is the lighthouse that guided you through heartbreaks and homesickness. So when the opportunity presents itself, there’s no way you wouldn’t give your all.

“I hope she’ll accept my project,” you simply answer.

“D’ya want onigiri?” The man offers.

You obviously accept (Umi dragged about how delicious they were, you need to find out whether that is true or not) and thank him again. He brushes it off with a “Umi’s friends are my friends and I’m always happy to feed people.”

His shop is warm and welcoming, and his food is delightful. You might yourself add a five-star review on Google.

“I never thought a rice ball could be that good,” you say with a mouth full of food.

“Rice balls? Ya don’t know how much time it took me to master that.”

Right, you don’t know, but you can only imagine. The culinary world isn’t only competitive and cruel. It’s sweat and tears, years of making to perfect a simple recipe. It’s giving your entire being into your crafts only to hear people say “well, that mustn’t be too difficult to make.”

But it’s also pride and art. Not a day goes by when you aren’t excited to try a new combination: replace wheat flour with almond flour for the brioches, add a spoonful of orange blossom to your cream puffs, and the list is long. And if you make someone happy, if they ask to have a second piece of your cake, that’s when you know the sweat and the tears aren’t that important.

You crave to build your pâtisserie, the same way Osamu built his restaurant (with warmth and love), and taste what it’s like to pour your heart into something tangible and undeniably yours.

Things move faster than you’d anticipated. The landlady approves your proposal, the bank grants your loan, and within the span of a week, you exchange your resignation letter with a lease and a pair of keys.

You’re sad to leave Umi, she is too.

“I’ll come whenever I can.” She says with a sad smile.

“I’ll sneak pastries for you,” you wink in return and when you hug, she congratulates you and tells you (for the tenth time) that you deserve it. You think a tear escapes your eyes.

Your newfound property is empty and cold. And when you open the door for the first time you realise that it might require a lot of work.

But Osamu is there every step of the way. He kindly offers advice and helps you with renovations. You’re a bit embarrassed by how much he’s done so far and at the same time, you know you have to take everything there is to make that place great. So it becomes a routine for him to cross the road from his shop to yours at the end of his shift to give you a hand.

“Yer makin’ the right choice,” he says one evening as you both sit outside Onigiri Miya, sharing a quick meal after a day of painting walls and changing seals. “That place is gonna bring in plenty of tourists and locals.”

You glance at him, there are nerves swirling in your chest. “I hope so.”

“Ya are. Trust me. Yer gonna have queues and queues of people.”

You hide your nerves with sarcasm, “And if they’re tired of waiting, I’ll tell them that there's a not-too-bad onigiri restaurant in front of my shop. Just so you know, time passes faster.”

He sneers at that, “’Not too bad’, ya sound like my brother.”

“Don’t know the guy but that didn’t seem to be a compliment.”

“That wasn’t.”

You roll your eyes and he laughs in return.

The hardest part of the renovation happens to be the most important one: the kitchen. You’re knee-deep in setting up the oven when you realise that maybe, you might need more people to assemble to equipment.

“I can find two or three more biceps to help,” Osamu tells you when he finds you trying to lift the 250-pound fridge by yourself.

“Yeah, I guess that would be useful,” you say breathlessly.

The next morning, you arrive early. Not as early as Osamu it seems since you see him standing outside your shop, hands in his pockets and wearing a sports suit (the clothes are unusual on him, you think). The closer you get, the blonder his hair looks. The sun has barely rise, and you blame the light for it.

You immediately call out, “Miya-san?”

He turns around, “Oh, hey!”

“You could have come later, you know. I was planning on cleaning a little bit before you arrived.”

“Don’t worry," he shakes his head, “’Samu would have killed me if I had been late.”

“Samu?”

And then, just as quickly, Osamu (the real one) shows up and for a second, you’re confused.

“Good morning,” he says before pointing to the other man, “seems like ya just met my brother.”

“I’m Atsumu.” The blond guy extends his hand to you and your knitted brows probably gives away your confusion. “Don’t tell me ya thought I was ‘Samu?”

Of course that’s his brother, you idiot. You curse yourself.

“Sorry. You guys look similar,” you say, but it’s not quite an excuse for your mistake.

They both share a glance before laughing and you think you just sounded stupid because obviously, they look alike, they’re fucking twins. You reason yourself by thinking that it’s very much early and that you’re not fully awake.

“We’re very different. I mean, our bodies aren’t built the same since I’m a professional athlete and ‘Samu’s not. I’ve always been the smartest one too.” He crosses his arms to his chest.

Osamu rolls his eyes. “Don’t listen to him. You’ll learn the difference soon enough. I’m the serious one.” He gestures to his brother. “He’s the disaster.”

Atsumu shrugs dramatically. “Hey, the world needs a little chaos, ya shithead!”

You can’t help but laugh despite the tension between them.

“Where’s the fridge?”

“I think we should wait for him; it will be easier if we’re four,” Osamu tells his brother. You didn’t know another person would come, you want to ask about them but Atsumu interferes before you can open your mouth.

“I’m pretty sure I can manage on my own, I’m a-”

“Professional athlete. I think we got it ‘Tsumu so can ya shut the fuck up now?”

You fear Atsumu will jump his brother if you don’t stop them.

“What sport?” You ask hurriedly before he can take a step towards Osamu.

“Volleyball. I’m the starting setter of the National Team.”

“Thought Tobio-kun was.”

The older twin glowers at the younger one.

“I’m impressed Atsumu-san, I actually know a professional setter.”

“Who?” The man’s eyes widen, and you decipher not only curiosity but competition on his face (typical man behaviour).

“He’s not in Japan though. But maybe you’ve heard of him, his name is Oika-”

“My bad Sam-sam, I walked past that place.”

A man enters the room. He is a bit sweaty and his hair, grey and raven, is falling on his forehead. 

“Did ya run to come here?” Osamu raises an eyebrow at him.

He grins and scratches the back of his neck nervously, “I took the wrong street.”

“But it’s the same as Onigiri Miya.”

“But it’s always Omi-Omi who guides us here. I never came on my own,” he pouts.

“Thank you for coming,” you hear yourself say and that’s when he finally sees you. His pout immediately disappears.

You think he is handsome. He and his golden eyes. But it’s only a sample of his beauty because when he replies “of course,” with his smile all bright and warm, you’re mesmerised.

It’s almost instinctive, the way you can’t look away. It’s like an effortless intake of air. Like your eyes seem to be glued to his features, and soon enough, to his arms and the way the muscles contract slightly when he offers his hand for you to shake it.

“I'm Bokuto,” he grins. “Nice to meet you.”

“Bokkun, yer hands are all dirty. She’s a lady.”

“Oops, Tsum-Tsum is right. Where can I wash them?” He asks you and hides his hands behind his back.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. The room is filled with silence for a very long minute before Osamu finally decides to show him the way.

Why are you disappointed? Why did you want so badly to shake his hand?

Perhaps because it’s too early for your mind to function properly.

Your brain tries to go for that answer (your beating heart whispers something else).

“Should we start workin’”? Atsumu proposes and you nod.

Well, it seems like you’re stuck with two bickering brothers and this god-like man named Bokuto.

(This is going to be a good day, you think discretely).

author notes: okay so this was supposed to be a one-shot but it will be a 3 or 4 chapters story haha

(writing this made me very hungry btw)

[tobiasdrake]

Here we go, it's Ranma time. Episode 5! The introduction to Ryoga continues.

God, I love how mournfully quiet this is.

This is what happens when women write women. Male writers don't often think about things like just how much a long-haired girl's hair means to her. Akane's been growing that out for years.

Look at how little she was when she started growing her hair. That is the product of years. Many years. Gone in an instant.

But she rolls with the punches. Akane has remarkable emotional fortitude. She'd kind of have to in order to survive all the shit she's had to put up with in her day-to-day life.

I love that they leave so much unstated, yet clearly implied, about the way her long hair relates to her longstanding crush on Dr. Tofu. When she says she wants to grow it out so she can be like Kasumi, there's an implication there that she thinks Dr. Tofu will like her more if she has Kasumi's hairstyle.

She's trying to walk in her big sister's shoes so that the man who likes her big sister might look her way. An idea that was doomed from the moment of its conception. She was never going to beat Kasumi at being Kasumi, and if she has to try, then she's already failed.

The manga's a bit more explicit about this, as Kasumi directly tells Baby Akane that Dr. Tofu won't like her very much if she keeps acting like a boy. From that, she draws the conclusion that having hair like Kasumi will make him like her more. But the reboot anime keeps it implied and understated.

So there's a lot going on here when Akane breaks down and cries into Dr. Tofu's chest. This is the end of an era. The loss of her hair symbolizes the death of a child's dream. The end of her efforts to be more like Kasumi so that this man would like her better, and the beginning of a new era where someone else out there will like her for being Akane.

While also demonstrating how much she leans on and depends on Dr. Tofu as a stabilizing figure in her life. She feels safe enough with him to finally let down her walls and cry out the grief over her lost hair, in a way she doesn't have at school or at home. Ironically mourning the death of her pursuit of him to him.

My dude, you desperately need to get a hobby. Supervillains are more considerate. Giving some real Vegeta energy here, but specifically the TeamFourStar kind.

And also the Tendo home desperately needs to get some door locks because he just strolled right on in here to do this.

And they both get punished for this.

Story of Ranma's life.

Takahashi's comedy remains incredible. Kasumi objects to Akane going out there not because she doesn't think Akane can take the mystery robber but because she wants Akane to hit him with something heavier.

I want that too. So Kasumi and I are on the same page.

She does, too. Nails Ryoga right in the back of the neck with a long-range shotput throw of that fucking barbell. Akane wins Ranma v. Ryoga, Round 2.

The moral of the story is to... not... do... anything that Ryoga did here.

...or, really, anything that Ryoga ever does. Don't be like Ryoga. That's sound life advice. (Not that the rest of the cast is any better.)

Immediately followed by Kasumi with another punchline. Man, I did not remember how funny she is.

Akane's rematch with Ryoga goes super well too. She is on fire.

Sincerely want to know what could possibly have possessed him to think jumping Akane while in piglet form was a good idea.

So begins the saga of P-chan.

AND ALL FOR BREAD AND BREAD-RELATED PRODUCTS

My dude.

The curry bun was not worth it.

Like.

Like. The part where Ranma knocked Ryoga into the piggy spring without noticing and then Genma tried to fucking eat him? Yeah. I can see being homicidally mad about that.

But he didn't even know that was them until literally this scene. Everything up to this point has been Ryoga blaming Ranma because he, Ryoga, stalked Ranma to China to avenge his curry bun.

Speaking of Genma.

I love how he just walks in on his son in girly form having Naked Bath Time with some random boy, and his response is to just... apologize and peace out. Whatever this is, it's none of his business.

Actually, not just any random boy. Specifically the random boy that got Ranma in trouble earlier tonight when he snuck into their bedroom for a late-night call.

Genma definitely thinks these two are up to shenanigans.

Literally the only member of her family that actually objects to Ranma sneaking into Akane's room late at night to do shenanigans to her (read: trying to fucking extract Ryoga from an unsuspecting Akane's bed) is Kasumi. Who merely scolds Ranma for moving too fast.

Is it any wonder she doesn't feel safe being emotionally vulnerable at home?

(Seriously, though, there is so much drama that could be avoided if Ranma would just tell Akane that P-chan is Ryoga. She has a right to know that, and not telling her makes Ranma complicit in Ryoga's shittiness.)

[breezy141]

NOT LIKE THE REST - james marriott masterlist

mention of self-doubt, insecure reader :( i hope you all know you’re absolutely gorgeous and deserve all the love in the world. THIS IS LONG !!

the beat of the music ran thought out the large party venue, with every step you felt the music beneath your feet. accidentally, you felt yourself bumping into people; muttering an apology loud enough for them to hear.

you didn’t exactly want to come but, your boyfriend had invited you out; you didn’t want to say no because he was excited to see all of his friends in one gathering. there was even an opportunity they would play his music through the speakers.

so, you kept to yourself and drifted from corner to corner. james, your boyfriend, was off conversating with whoever he laid eyes on. he was a sweet soul, never afraid to talk to anyone, he was open to chitchat about anything and everything.

you had assured james that you would be completely okay on your own, getting a glass of coke every so often from the open bar was your way of making yourself feel comfortable. of course, you had seen many of your friends but you were the awkward type, the type to slip from a conversation whenever possible.

it wasn’t intentional, you were just scared.

while looking around the venue, totally unaware of your surroundings, you barged into someone. “oi! watch it, love” you didn’t recognise the voice at all, nonetheless you spun around and apologised profusely.

“i-i’m so sorry; i didn’t see you” the random bloke frowned at you and laughed “maybe if you paid more attention it wouldn’t have happened” he said before linking arms with the lady attached to his side, and walking away.

due to the interaction it filled you with a certain uneasy feeling, you felt extremely anxious. the type of anxious that made you feel queasy, the type that made you bite your lips in those certain places, the type of anxious that made you pick at the skin around your nails.

breathing out deeply, you headed in the direction of where your boyfriend said he would be. on the way, you had ensured you never took your eyes off the people around you.

as you approached the cozy seating area you seemed to stop in your tracks, you watched as you saw many pretty, gorgeous women sat around. they weren’t just any ol’ women, they were stunning!

perfect symmetry, amazing facial harmony, an hour glass figure you so desperately envied, you watched as they all laughed so sweetly, they laughed at everything; annoying or not it didn’t matter. it sounded like a sweet melody.

completely stopping in your tracks, your hands subconsciously moved to your exposed stomach. covering it, but then you remembered your thighs. god not them, you thought to yourself. i bet they don’t have big thighs.

of course they didn’t, why would they.

cutting james some slack, it’s not like it was just him surrounded by these women. it was him and his closest friends, will, mikey etc. but either way, it felt like someone had just punched you in the gut.

you felt horrible, it wasn’t his fault you felt this way. james has done nothing but show you constant love and affection, he praised the ground you walked on, he always made sure you were okay and felt loved.

trying to go unnoticed; you slipped between the crowd and found a wall to sit and sob at. your cry wasn’t one of those pretty girl cries, it was one full of emotion, tears, sweat and sadness. using the sleeves of your small top you wiped your eyes smudging the amount of eye makeup you had plastered on, in hopes of masking your true features.

james never understood why you did so, you were so so beautiful. yes, beautiful. the kind of beautiful that made you outshine every woman in existence to him. it wasn’t just your stunning looks that did it, it was your personality. yes you were shy, but he knew what you were like.

he knew you loved dancing to his music in the kitchen, he knew you loved to make him laugh whenever you thought he was off, he knew you cared about every little creature that roamed this earth, he knew YOU. and that’s all that matters.

even though you tried, will had noticed your saddened and teary eyes before you took off, he nudged james. to which he stood up immediately, not even saying his goodbyes.

after every tear you could muster up had left your body, james’ found you. leaning against the wall, staring into a lake. your head in your hand. he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“talk to me” is all he said, in such a sweet but nervous tone. turning around to face him, his heart broke. the mascara was no longer exentuating your eyelashes, it had fallen onto your cheeks. your lips were puffy, and your eyebrows were furrowed. you said nothing but fell into his chest.

your arms hugged one another, and your head lay in a certain position where you could hear his heartbeat. which admittedly, was going ten to the dozen.

“let’s go home” he took your hand in his and lead you back to a hotel where you two were staying for the night.

-

“i wish i was like them” you whimpered out, james head snapped towards you. he had put his phone down and came to sit next to you on the bed.

“like who?” he wrapped his arm around your waist and leaned into your gently.

“them girls” he struggled to know who you were on about, but soon figured it out. “baby they ar-” he was about to start until you interrupted him.

“they were so pretty. perfect everything, why can’t i have that? since i was younger i’ve alway tried to be better. be prettier. they looked at you so..so adoring. like they know they could steal you away in moments. i honestly wouldn’t blame them for thinking that. i mean, look at you; then look at me. i’m nothing compared to them. i have marks all over me, i have annoying freckles, i have scars. i hate it. why would you choose me..me out of everyone”

with every word it broke him, how could you think this? he wished you could see yourself through his eyes.

“i would choose you, again and again and again, in every life time. id choose you because i love you, and everything that you come with. your freckles aren’t annoying, they stunning, little do you know every night i kiss as many as i can” you looked up at him.

“yeah, and your scars? well they tell a story, a story many others can’t compare too. you are unique, and unique is better then fitting in. did you notice how those women looked the same, like the complete same. i mean like clones of each other, like out of fuckin star wars or somethin” you giggled a little from his comment.

“you, y/n, are amazing. you stand out from the crowd. no one else looks like you, and that’s a good thing. i have someone who is better then every other woman existence, you look like no other, you act like no other. you are you and id never change that for the world”

by the end, you were a teary mess, with your arms around his neck giving him the tightest hug you could. you repeated ‘i love you’ about a million times before he cut you off with a sweet kiss, one you both smiled into.

•••

REMEMBER!! you are all beautiful and deserve the world. i love you all, have a wonderful day, night, evening wherever you are 💌

[skymoral]

Bi-Han x B!F Wife Reader

TRAINING

Summary: Bi-han was having the clan train, Kuai Liang monitoring it and Y/N wanted to join. But one of the Lin Kuei’s went a bit to far, and Bi-han was not accepting that.

Tags: Fluff/protect, slight drama, over-protective

A/N: Bi-han does not play about his woman

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You just had finish treating yourself of earthrealms female activities, Sonya took you for a girls out to explore earth.

With a hard push to have Bi-han approve of you going, so you had body guards as if you couldn’t defend yourself… well to a certain extent.

Y/N bid her friend Sonya farewell, as you were headed to back to your room to show it off to your husband. You passed where the Lin Kuei was training.

Y/N saw her brother-In-law Kuai Liang, he was showing his clan new skills. You watched standing between the threshold.

“What are you doing woman?” A cold tone came from behind her. There was only one man that talked with such coldness.

“Beloved! Ooh look!” You ran up hugging his arm, and putting your hand in his face.

“You like my nails, there blue and light blue. I know how much you love it when I wear your color. Ooh, and I let my braids out!”

Y/N stepped back not to far shaking her big fluffy curly Afro. It was literally touching your shoulders. He left your hand kissing the back of your palm.

“It is Beautiful, I am pleased to know you enjoyed yourself.” Bi-han gave a small smile, that was quickly gone as he entered the training spot.

Of course you followed behind, as you love watching the training sessions and little spar.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

As the training was continuing, you heard Kuai Liang ask anyone if they would like to spar with one of the Lin Kuei warriors, who went by the name “Lu Min”(A/N: don’t judge me about the name lol). Who was there most skilled warrior

“I can spar with them!” Y/N volunteered herself happily. Kuai Liang gave you a shocked expression, then turned to his brother. Who only waved his hand giving his approval.

You stood up and put your hair into two big puffs. “It is an honor to be able to spar with the grand mistress herself.” Lu Min bowed.

“Likewise.” You returned the gesture. You got into a fighting stance. You were lucky you didn’t have to change. You had a comfortable attire on, that was suitable for fighting.

As you both spar, you earned a couple impressed reactions.

You’ve been doing some training of your own and sometimes practice with your husband.

But you wanted to show off something you learn, which was a double aerial kick before you kicked him down.

“A little something ya girl learned on her own.” You noticed an impressed grin from Bi-han. He expected nothing less from you, as he does not marry weak women.

“We’re not finish yet.” Lu Min said a bit more agitated. You noticed but brushed it off.

He charged at you, but you blocked his punch, then he swepped his leg under her making her fall.

Before Y/N could block, he punched her hard in her chest. Knocking the wind out of you, you grunted slightly.

Trying to get up, then he kicked you hard against the wall and punched you dead in your face, but used your hands to protect it slightly, which didn’t do much. Earning a whimper out of you, your face bruised.

Before it could continue, Kuai Liang ended the fight. Standing between you both, Y/N thanked the gods for the intervention. Because she be damned if she tapped out.

Not wanting to seem weak, but was boy fighting as if it was a real Mortal Kombat. The pain was getting to you, and he just fucked up the nails you just got did.

You felt the aura of the room changed, Bi-han kneeled in front of you. Gripping your face and looking at your wounds

{You wondered to yourself on when you had got on the ground}

“You are bruised but not broken. We will end this little sparring session.”

You could tell Bi-han was pissed that one of his men went overboard, “I-It’s fine Bi-han, I was just caught off guard I’m alright babe… Well, except my nails.” You tried to play off jokingly, but he was in no joking mood.

Bi-han called one of the medics and asked them to tend to your wounds in your shared room with Bi-han.

“You will finish your sparring lesson with me.” Bi-han pointed at Lu Min, who was already apologizing and begging for mercy.

You were taken away before you could see an outcome

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were laying in the bed, leaning against the headboard. Looking at what was your newly blue and light blue nails.

Fingers bandaged, some broke off fully(which hurt like a bitch) and others half broken but still sore as it was new.

Then you heard Bi-han entered the room, he sank the bed as sat on the edge. Pulling your hands to his lips kissing it.

“You didn’t kill the poor boy did you?” Y/N asked worryingly, you didn’t want to get anyone killed.

“Why does it matter.” Bi-han bluntly responded settling in the bed and pulling you close to him.

“Bi-hannnnn.” You whined, Bi-han was kissing your neck then bruises.

“He’s lucky Kuai Liang was there.” Bi-han, would have killed him if it weren’t for his brother holding him back. As he was already taught a lesson and made as an example to the others if they ever felt like being bold. How dare anyone ruin his wife’s beautiful face.

Y/N was alright with that response, at least he was alive. You gave him a sweet kiss on the lips before confirming to him that you’re alright and you will live and heal… except your nails.

“I’m sad about my nails though, they were so cute and nice… After all that money I spent on it.” You pouted.

“Money is no issue my dear wife, you can go again tomorrow.” Bi-han told you, giving you a smile. Your the only person he shows this too.

“THAT MEANS YOUR TAKING ME DADDY!?” You sat up excitedly. Bi-han huffed with a smirk before getting out the bed and heading to wash himself up.

“I never said that, it means you can find your own way again.” Bi-han told you before disappearing in the bathroom.

“BI-HANNNNNNN!” You whined loudly.

A/N: These are what your nails looked like, also hoped you enjoyed this story as well

[abbyslev]

JUNE BABY PLS I BEG YOU PLS WRITE SOME YELENA SMUT PLS I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE IM TOO FAR GONE I NEED THIS WOMEN TO SLAM ME AGAINST A WALL AND MAKE OUT WITH ME AND LOVE ME AND PUNCH ME AND MAKE ME HER WIFE AND SPIT IN MY FACE AND NEVER LET ME GO PLS I BEG YOU PLS IM SO DESPERATE PLS

𝑭𝑶𝑪𝑼𝑺- 𝒀𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑨 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

A/N: the craziest part is that no one gets my love for yelena like lea does. @lejayooo GETS IT. SO GOOD. i wrote this for her bc i love her and ofc i need to feed into our delusions TOGETHER??? THIS WAS INSPIRED BY LANA TOO LIKE THE WAY I WOULD LET YELENA FOLD ME IN HALF AND DESTROY ME??? I HOPE ALL OF YOU ENJOY OK IM GONNA GO FANGIRL W LEA NOW OK GUYS

WARNINGS: pure smut bro

Your name left her mouth once again, an annoyed sigh from your mouth leaving as you looked up. 

       “I need you to focus.” Professor Yelena gave you a stern smile before pointing to the board. “Answer.” She added. Your cheeks turned red, your ears hot. You had been thinking about Professor Yelena's long fingers touching you in such soft ways, mouth meeting yours as your hands tangled themselves in her soft hair. You practically dropped at the thought. 

       “I- uhm…i’m not sure.” You cleared your throat as you could feel the stares of your peers. “Like yesterday? And the day before that?” Yelena shook her head, sucking her teeth. You look down, picking at your fingers. “Stay after class.” She let out a soft chuckle before turning back to her lesson. 

        This must have been the longest lesson in the world. You couldn’t stop thinking about how badly she was going to scold you, how she was going to shame you for your skills. You bite your tongue, the people around you moving as Yelena yelled out what pages to read tonight. You stuff your bag with your belongings before slowly dragging yourself to her desk, a shy smile on your face. 

         Yelena waved off her last student before turning to you. She walked past you, opening the door to her office. She extended an arm out, letting you go in first. You stood there shyly as she removed her coat, rolling up her sleeves.

       My god, her long, pale veiny arms made you practically drool again. You tore your eyes away from her arms, looking at her exposed collarbones, wishing nothing more than to kiss them. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Yelena chuckled, tapping her head. 

       “Erm, nothing. Just a hard time focusing.” You lied. “I think not. You seem to have a perfect score in every single class, so why is mine the issue? You passed Zoë’s class easily enough last year.” Yelena sat down, typing on her computer. “I don’t like this book. I only like books that i’m interested in.” You lied. “You told Zoë you loved anything by this author, which is why I chose it. Is that an issue?” Yelenas brows furrowed. 

        You stayed quiet, eyes wide. Why would she ever pick anything you liked? She didn’t even know you last year. “This is your major, I expect more from you. You did pretty well up until a while ago.” Yelena rested one hand on her chin, her cold eyes trailing down your body. 

        Yeah, that was a couple of months before you started realizing how hot she was, before you started thinking unimaginable things about her.

        “Zoë says you’re perfect, I was really expecting that kind of participation in my class.” Yelena smiled. “I just have a lot going on right now.” You say quickly. “Want to talk about it? It stays between us.” Yelena gave you another warm smile. “I’m ok. Thank you.” What else were you supposed to say? How you want her to fuck you so bad? 

        “Well, come here, i want to show you some alternative assignments, maybe we can get that C to a B.” Yelena waved you over. Oh my god, were you really about to be right next to your hot professor? 

         You sit next to her, body stiff. She smelled like cologne. You inhaled deeply, trying not to be obvious. You were so close to touching her.  Yelena spread her legs, her knee touching yours. Neither of you moved. “You could write me a six hundred word essay on this book. Unless you’d rather just read it with us.” Yelena looked over at you. 

        She noticed your stiff  body, your hands slightly shaking as you avoided eye contact with her. “I can just read.” You blurted out. “What, sweetheart?” Yelenas brows furrowed again. SWEETHEART? Your heart pounded, eyes shooting to the floor. Her hand lifted your chin up, forcing you to look at her. “Answer.” She whispered, leaning in. 

        You squeeze your legs,  lips parting a bit as Yelena leaned in, thumb playing with your lower lip. “I can read.” You whispered back. “Good.” Yelena kissed you, hand softly caressing your jaw. You embarrassingly whimpered, holding her wrist. Yelena brought you into her lap, hands massaging your thighs. 

       She kissed your neck, nose tickling your neck. “Is this what you think about?” Yelena played with your waistband, holding a fistful of your hair, making you look at her. “Tell me what you think about, baby.” Yelena brought your lips down to hers. “I think about your fingers inside of me. I think abou- fuck.” You throw your head back as Yelena squeezed your breasts.  

        Yelena helped you pull off your pants, pushing you on her desk. “I always think about you. How you’re mine. Not Zoë’s dirty little pet, you’re mine.” Yelena shoved her fingers in your mouth. You drooled all over them, face pouting as your legs shook. Yelena tapped your clit softly before starting to do slow circles. 

       Your nails gripped the edge of the desk, eyebrows furrowing as Yelena slowly sank a finger in you. You close your legs, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Yelena's free hand tugged on your shirt. You threw it off, hands locking around Yelena’s neck. Yelena kissed you, fingers pumping in and out of you and her thumb continued to circle your clit. 

      “You get all embarrassed when I call on you, do you like that? Do you like that I think about punishing you when you’re wrong?” Yelena mumbled in your ear, fingers quickening with every word. “Yes, fuck, yes!” You scream, your head laid in between her shoulder and neck, teeth sinking into Yelena’s shoulder, quiet pleads leaving your mouth. 

     You rock your hips upwards, hoping for more. Yelena pressed your body down with her cold hand, shaking her head. “Please,” You look at her. Yelena ran the same hand down your face, softly caressing your bottom lip. She kissed you softly, capturing your bottom lip between her teeth. 

       You grasped Yelena's upper arm, feeling the soft curve of her muscles. She could feel you about to cum. “Beg for it.” She slowed her pace, pressing her forehead against yours. “P-please, professor.” You try to keep your shaking legs open. “Please what?” Yelena kissed the corner of your mouth, tongue tracing your lips. “Please let me-shit!” Your fingers dig into her back. Your nails scratch her soft skin, decorating her pale skin with your red love marks.

        “I wanna hear you, pretty.” Yelena watched as you moaned out loud, lips quivering as you called out her name. “How bad do you want it?” Yelena hummed. “S-so bad! Bad!” You shut your eyes. Yelena slapped your face, hand grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you forward.

        “Look at me when I'm talking to you.” Yelena mumbled. That sets you off. Your legs gave in, chest collapsing as loud, breathy moans left your lips and hands tangling themselves in her hair, forehead against Yelena’s, your cum all over her desk. 

       She helped you come down, pushing your hair out of your face. “You’re a mess.” She chuckled as she handed you your bottoms. “Thanks to you.” You sit there for a moment. “Do you really think of me that way?” Yelena traced soft circles on your inner thigh. You blushed, pushing her hand off. 

      “Oh, don’t be embarrassed now.” She caressed your cheek, leaning down to your level. She pressed a soft kiss on your lips. You pull away, standing up. “What?” Yelena smiled. You kiss her one more time before opening her door. “I’ll see you tomorrow after class.” You smile, shutting the door behind you. 

[jesterjaxx]

Halloween AU lore dump!!!

❗️WARNING❗️

so much infodumping world buidling and headcannons

DJ- Robot

Originally built to be a robo cop type deal. But when given free will refused to hurt anyone and got scrapped

Was found and repurposed by "Momma" to be a son

Really fuckin loves animals. Nature in general but mostly animals.

They get spooked by him a lot though

Hes kinda sad about this but gets it.

Momma is a scraper/engineer and outfitted him with everything a "good human boy" would need, like touch receptors and an ability to taste

Nothing to be done about majorly changing how he looks tho

The ability to feel is a bit too much sometimes

Sometimes all he can feel is cold

Goes to Duncan to see if he can do something about helping communicate to animals that he is a friend. Ala magic.

Machinery and Magic don't mix well typically, you gotta be crazy specific, which isn't really Duncan's styel

Duncan likes DJ tho, and proceeds to steal some of Harolds spellbooks

Side plot of them being wayyyy to hard for him to read, in both way too high level and shitty handwritten chickenscratch that fucks with his dyslexia, so he has to ask Harold for help

Maybe they learn to better understand eachother idk

Maybe they kill eachother

Harold and Duncan team up 6 dead 9 injured every single person is fucking baffled

Anyways DJ is like iron giant up in this bitch

His Momma is kinda worried that one day he'll learn enough mechanics to fix himself up and wont need her anymore

Tyler - Harpy

Ok the chicken fear makes sense now

He gets the uncanny valley feeling looking at chickens

I would too

He would fly into a window

Can he fly?

Hes like a turkey

Or a seagull

Wait im an idiot hes a chicken

Duh

Eva - Gargoyle

Her carver loved buff women thank god almighty for that

Punches like a brick wall

Living Stone

lion paws for feet

Did you guys know sound resonates the best through solids??

Her music listening experience is legit i just know it

Noah - The Blob/ slime monster

Oh god that poor guy

Hes gonna get slime all over his books

Harold - Witch

He's the type of witch to have seperate waters for different kinds of spells

A pretty dorky Witch, even by witch standards

Wears proper witch PPE (robes and hat)

Has his sheldon Big Bang Theory style shirts on underneath tho

Uses incantations and written spells in magical languages mainly

Uses the starlight, paper, ink, historical artifacts and an assortment of magical ingredients as fuels

Has a large collection of quality spellbooks for references

Not those shitty amazon spellbooks that are just a list of pre written spells, these ones were written by some old hag 80 years ago and through flowery rambleing language tell you how write spells yourself. They go into spell syntax.

Harolds books for writing incantations and spells are spiral notebooks

If he uses smbols will typically craft a custom sygil for it

Uses alot of number magic and latin

Uses his confidence in his skills with writing spells to harness magic

Is better at doing spells for other people, when doing spells for himself he tends to overcomplicate things

Actually went to magic camps and magic summer schools

"I was trained for this!" and it's Mostly true

Can make the most specific fucking spell work for him

I cannot stress he is good at this type of casting.

Duncan's way of doing magic pisses him off. Both are convinced their way is better

Harold to Duncan ->"What the fuck do you mean you increased your strength with a posca marker, bare knuckles and a dream. How are you not dead yet >:[ "

He has a lot of respect for magic itself, Duncan's almost disrespectful way of using magic makes him mad.

Whats worse is that it works.

How Harold casts a spell

Writes down a goal -> outlines different methods to achieve it (incantations, scrolls, potions) -> writes out the spelleork with alot of detail accounting for almost every outcome -> it takes very long -> outwardly or inwardly recites writes spell to activate it -> profit

Alejandro - Siren

(I give up with organization here no more bullet points)

Mermaids and Sirens are almost identical, with few overt physical differences

Sirens will typically have colored iris', 2 finned gills, longer tounges, boned ears and uniformly sharp teeth

Mermaids have colored scalera, 3 smooth gills, finned ears and sharp canines

This isn't a rule, and in modern times there are few families of sirens or mermaids that havent mixed with other monsters at some point

Both species have shape-shifting abilities.

Mermaids have two forms, and can switch between them at will, though the process takes hours and the mermaid will have to stay in either aquatic or land form for a couple weeks before changing again. though this wait time can be speed up with tailsmen, it's can cause health problems.

Siren can shift their features at will, including shifting from aquatic to non aquatic with no wait time, some families of Siren encourage "good breeding" and fostering shifting abilities to the point of shifting bone structure, hair, colors and gender at will. This level of shifting controll is a very desirable trait, and cannot be learned.

Alejandro is one of these few families who try to stay purely Siren

Hes a 100% Siren, but unlike his brothers he lacks any shape-shifting abilities, a flaw that has brought him great shame (this is just a genetic fluke, it's like a birth defect)

but he has both a very powerful ability to enchant his words and natural charisma. Dangerous combo.

Because of the well known knowledge that Sirens can manipulate people with ease, Alejandro semi pretends that he is a Mermaid, using his long hair to obscure his gills

He more just lets people assume hes a Mermaid and does not correct them rather than actually lying

He lies about many things but outright lying about species is a bit much

Siren Speech doesn't work as good if someone's also using magic at the same time or knows what's up about it

It doesn't work that great on Heather, Duncan or Harold point blank, or Lindsay, Beth Trent and Justin if they're shifting or shifted

Good thing hes manipulative on his own!

Beth - Mermaid

Yeah sure why not

I don't know enough about Beth yet i need a moot whose obsessed with her

Ezekiel - Ghost

Lmao hes invisible

Poor dude probably gets looked over all the time

Hes just clothes and a transparent person

Justin - Werewolf

The twilight girls would go crazy over him i know it

Cody - Puppet

Oh poor dude

Itll look cool tho

Hed make knock on wood jokes all the time

Trent - Werecat

The trustin girls would go crazy over this i know it

But real like hes chillin

Would use claws as a pick

Geoff - Frankenstein

A man of the people

Literally

Looses limbs easily

Wakes up after a party like "wheres my leg lmao"

Heather - Zombie

Oh this is good

Shes vegan

Would insult people like "i can tell you have a brain why the hell don't you use it"

Very concerned over phsyical appearance

Uses so so many products

Pretty alive looking for a zombie cuz of it

It's kinda creepy

Her eyes got no eyeshine tho

Like a shark.

Gwen - Skeleton/Ghost

Ok this was an accidental double Gwen got both Skeleton and ghost

Since Ezekiel is already a ghost i'm Gonna lean into the Skeleton bit more but throw a transparent silhouette over all of her for the ghost bit

Ghost vs Zombie rivalry

She'd do all sorts of cool drawings and markings on her bones

Gwen, drawing a bat on her femur with sharpie: tattoo moment

Her eyeliner is also sharpie

Who the fuck cares about skincare when you don't have skin

Lindsay: you shouldn't put permanent marker on your face! It can hurt you 🥺

Gwen, floating bones:

LeShawna - Chimera

YES I LOVE MONSTER COMBOS

LIKE COMBINATIONS OF MULTIPLE ANIMALS

lets do classic chimera but with one head

Lean into the Lioness bit cuz Leshawna is a boss bitch and Lionesses are so fucking cool

I might give her a scorpion tail

Duncan - Witch

Another double whoops lol

He's a "fuck it we ball" typa witch

lmao he and Harold are beefing like crazy i know it Harold has 12 spellbooks hes memorized with their specific ways of casting and Duncan is writing runes on his knuckles with sharpie

Duncan to Harold ->"Why are you using 2 pages of latin for a fire spell??"

"Because i need only this bit of wood to light on fire a little bit and nothing else and if i dont i could loose control of it or blow it up or it might not even start"

*stares in did finger guns at a branch and cremated it for fun*

Harold to Duncan ->"Why are you writing runes on your nailpolish??"

"i'm tired of being the only scary bitch here without claws"

*stares in once accidentally rubbed spell notes off of his spellbook and onto his face while passed out on his desk and gave himself acid burns for 3 weeks"

They go crazy they go stupid

Hes self taught

The Duncan and Harold bullying arc turned Street smart vs actually Smart but make it witches

Mostly just picking shit up as he goes

"Stole" (it was free) a pamphlet on different types of magical symbols and has managed to make the symbols illustrated in it work for almost every spell he wants

Fueled by raw unrelenting audacity

Real lore tho- magic is created with belief and harnessed with confidence, you can either go the intellectual route and control every variable and have trust in your control of those variables to harness the magic like Harold, or like Duncan, have enough semi-unearned confidence in yourself to harness magic with little need for more than a few variables.

Basically as a general rule, it has as much meaning as you truthfully believe it does

Doesn't explain what hes casting or how hes doing it

"Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"what are you a cop?"

(learned from illustrations, word of mouth, and other witches on the street)

Has a couple stick n poke magical symbols, several other scribbled on symbols that are temporary

Biggest one is a glyph for fire on his hand, he doens most of his spells using it

Has burns around his glyph tattoos from spells backfiring cuz he got distracted

Uses sharpies, spraypaint, eyeliner and the insides of firecrackers for drawing symbols

If he needs a magical material he'll typically substitute whatever he has on him, belief goes a long way.

"Pure Holy Silver?... this earring looks silver enough

This doesn't work for potions cuz potions are only a little left to normal chemistry.

Has alot of talisman he wears

Carries extra ingredients on him ala accessories cuz fuck it it looks cool

Mains his spells with symbols, uses potions or material fuels if he cant make a good connection between what he wants and one of 10 symbols he remembers at any given time

Uses moonlight, bones, rocks, and personal artifacts as fuels

How duncan casts a spell

Draws glyph -> creates a mental connection between what the glyph means and what he wants to do (this is mostly subconscious with Duncan he doenst know what hes doing he just knows he does it well)-> activates glyph physically (ie hitting, tapping, lighting, punching, tracing with finger)

Example: draws fire glyph on Chris's camper -> wants to set it on fire but not the surrounding grass and trees -> smacks the side of the camper that has the glyph on it -> profit

Duncan, to Harold: You make magic math, i make magic my bitch

Bridgette - Alien

Aww she could be so cute

Surfer girl from planet nine

Owen - Plant Monster

This could visually look really cool

Big carnivorous plant

Izzy - Angel

kaleidoscope = biblically accurate form, cuz she "Looks like a kaleidoscope! Duh!"

Lindsay - Selkie

If you steal her coat ill fucking kill you

Sadie - Vampire

Ough thats cute

I'm Gonna make her pigtails batwings

Katie - Zombie

undead girlfriends

Sadie thinks Katie is so pretty it doesn't matter her eye just fell out

Courtney - Demon

Oh this bitch looooves contracts

Is also upset about Duncan but she just doesn't like witches in general

Whats the point of making deals with humans for magical powers of some humans give themselves magical powers

Demon of what?? Pride maybe?? Or envy??

Shes a sweetheart tho

[necrotic-nephilim]

If I may ask, what is your top 10 fics(excluding the Slade/Steph fic)?

oooh, yes! (obligatory rec of the above-mentioned SladeSteph fic by the lovely @kevin-day-is-bi tho bc it's so worth a read for anyone who hasn't read it) most of these are Batcest related, but there are a couple of gen fics as well that really hold a special place in my heart

In The Company of Monsters - this is a No Capes AU dystopian DamiTim fic that is unfinished but. god i can never not recommend it. i've liked this fic longer than i've liked Batcest, this fic used to be my "okay i dislike the ship but this is my exception". i adore how Damian and Tim are written, i adore the world building, this is just. my roman empire.

Robins And Other Flightless Birds - a mostly genfic that follows a Bruce without a Batfamily just. adopting members of the Batfam across the multiverse who were never saved. Dick is a Talon, Tim is Joker Junior, etc. i usually don't go for Good Dad Bruce fics, but there's something so special about this fic and how it writes Bruce struggling to adjust to having kids with no experience bc he craved a family.

The Music We Make is Unnatural - this was written as a gift for me in the JayTim exchange by the lovely @rottenapricots and GOD is it everything i could've asked for. for such a short fic it packs a wonderful punch exploring the premise of Jason who never died and Tim who's Ra's' apprentince. it has so many JayTim tropes i love while still being something unique and special on its own.

props - this is a series and it's long, but god is it gloriously fucked up. this surrounds mostly JayBruTim, where Jason and Bruce solve their uses by using Tim as a toy between them, and then the aftermath of Dick finding out. it's so good. this series just lives rent free in my brain and i cannot recommend it enough to dead dove enjoyers.

all the men and women merely players - a Tim-centric fic that explores Tim being self aware and breaking the fourth wall, but from a very whump/angsty perspective. i adore fourth wall breaking that feels more like psychological horror as a character struggles to grip that their reality is malleable and out of their control. and this fic does it SO well.

I Know What My Brother Is - a Reverse Robins DamiTim fic that has everything i adore about RR and DamiTim in one place. their dynamic, the sexual exploration, everything in this is just top notch and i truly adore RR!DamiTim.

Keep you warm - JayDickTim fic with Talon!Dick and Omegaverse. this really delights me bc there are just so many layers to how this relationship builds and how these three end up together despite a lot of initial rocky territory.

Catch me low - this fic was recommended to me recently and i'm still just starting it, but i adore the concept already. this has DickTimJayBruce and Jason universe hopping to "make things right" in a very fun dead dove kind of way.

When You Move I'm Moved - a TimKon PWP that explores just how far you can reasonably take TTK. and god is it everything to me. the smut is so good and all the kinks just. hit the spot. i want to chew on this fic.

one life for the many - this is a dark BruTim fic that's very short but has a special place in my heart for exploring my favorite sort of BruTim dynamic where Tim considers the risks of being Robin and ends up ina sexual relationship with Bruce reluctantly. it's just so good and i love Tim's internal logic.

also an honorable mention to a fic that's not DC, but an MHA ShinBkau fic i regularly reread, NyQuil™. i just have a soft spot for adult AU ShinBaku fics even tho i don't read MHA much anymore. it's so crunchy to me.

[cinnamonest]

No no, because yandere Adachi has so much potential. Like imagine him getting attached to just some convenience store worker he sees daily on his way home. He’d be friendly, kind, and even warn her of being safe on her way home because of the killer loose. Oh? You’re near the end of your shift? Why not just let him take you home? He’s a cop, after all. He’s trustworthy. darling would never see it coming whenever he knocks her out and drags her into his apartment. He’d be so very cruel, too. Never taking her gag off, threatening her for one wrong move. He’d expect her to play right into his fantasies (be too frightened of him to fight back and then act just like a perfect wife/girlfriend, no misbehaving needed) while acting completely insufferable.

I have like an endless amount of ideas/scenarios for this.

(Crazy that I did not even remember what day it is/notice the perfect timing until just now as I was copying this to post, but HAPPY BIRTHDAY TOHRU ADACHI)

YOU get it anon. Also PLEASE share those ideas, same goes to all 2 of my fellow Adachi appreciators here, because I have so much to say about this awful man. I'm just gonna ramble a bit here

//nasty stuff here, the usual but extra dark/intense because this is Adachi we’re talking about so how could it not be

-----

Tohru absolutely utilizes his status as a cop to his advantage. He knows it adds an element of social trust, that you won't be as on-guard with him as you would any other guy. He’s there to protect the general public, to apprehend bad guys — of course he’s a good guy!

He loves that you appreciate it — that adorable little voice, before you got to know him well enough to go by a name-basis, where you'd say ‘thank you officer! Have a great day!’ whenever he stops by the store.

So cute, so pure, so innocent, he thinks.

He wants to ruin you.

The man has some violent, violent thoughts. He doesn't even try to keep things pure and wholesome when he thinks about you, nor even limited to normal perversions. The very day he meets you, he goes home and spends the rest of the day jerking off to imagining your squeals and cries and tears with his hands around your throat. Oh, how he wants to feel you struggle, afraid and confused and the way you'd feel so betrayed when the policeman you trusted to keep you safe is balls deep in every hole you have, holding you down with ease. You look like you'd be weak. God, it would be so easy—

No, it will. It will be so easy, because he will do it.

You're probably not aware of it either. Most girls aren't, he thinks, they have no idea how weak and easily overpowered they are. He of all people would know — even when they're fighting for their lives, they’re so weak.

But you should be weak. It’s cute. Just like how you should be scared, innocent, sweet, obedient… the man definitely is the type to construct an unrealistic idea of darling in his head as perfect, someone who has no flaws in his mind, and he would absolutely have a “purity” fixation… so if that illusion is shattered in any way, he becomes very spiteful.

Canonically, he develops a crush over a woman he doesn’t even know and feels entitled to women on sheer principle of liking them, going to the extent of a woman having her own life as a “betrayal”… you’re not exempt from the exact same thing.

So God forbid he find out you’ve ever had a boyfriend or lover of any kind in the past… or worse… he’s going home one day, expecting to see his adorable beloved and wave to her from the street, only to spot her hugging and holding hands with some other guy? To realize that she's had a boyfriend this whole time?

Oh, he loses it. No outwardly — not yet — but he goes home, punches a wall, seethes and paces around for a while before moping in bed for some time.

It’s like a switch flipped in his head. Ugh. It’s like a betrayal. How could you… and as he mopes, it becomes so very obvious that this was intentional. You led him on on purpose. What were you thinking, being nice to him? You obviously wanted him to like you. It feels malicious, it’s painful.

You’re so stupid, so naive. Dumb little whore. Don’t you realize you’re playing with fire? Didn’t you think about the consequences your actions would have?

Because oh, will they have consequences. No way is he letting you get away with doing this to him. You’ll pay for what you’ve done.

He entertains that idea at the peak of his bitter wallowing — it would be just as easy as before. You probably have a TV set in your home. He could break in and just…

No. Dammit, he’s already too attached to you. He’s known you personally for a while now. He can’t do that. He wants to keep you.

It’s okay… well, no, it’s not okay, but he’s a very generous guy, you know. If you apologize and beg good enough, he’ll even consider forgiving you.

And you do. You squirm and cry and claw at his hands when he holds you up by your throat. It’s not good enough the first time, but when he squeezes down hard and tells you to try harder, asks you if that’s the best you can do, you finally get it right, finally say how sorry you are and properly beg for him to not kill you.

It’s enough to adequately make amends and begin the atonement process, at least. You’ll have the rest of your lives together to complete that process.

He makes good use of you, after bringing you home. Darling is the perfect little squeeze toy to him. He deals with a lot of stress, you know? He spends all day getting yelled at and pushed around by Dojima, and underneath the bumbling airhead act, it makes him seethe. He used to go home and break things, punch walls, throw things… but now he doesn't have to do that. He can just take all that stress out on you and your poor holes.

Holding your head down with a painful grip in your hair with one hand, holding your hips up and jerking your body back against his, nails digging into your flesh with the other, ramming into you over and over until your insides are sore and raw. Or holding your head firmly in place as you gag and cough and try to pull your head away, fucking your throat with not even an ounce of mercy, jerking your head down all the way and holding it there when he cums down your throat.

The stress relief is verbal, too. Oh, he's so, so mean, calls you every degrading term you can think of when he's rutting into you.. but it also comes out outside of those times too. He vents to you, whether you care to really listen or not. Just goes on and on about everything that upsets him, how much he hates this and that, how he wishes this or that person would just die so he wouldn't have to deal with them anymore… you never really know how to respond, but thankfully he doesn't actually seem to be looking for much of a response, more just someone to listen to him. In truth, it almost makes you feel a little bad for him... but you try to stave off such thoughts.

But that's just his default. That's when he's having a decent day, just the natural amount of stress he has. When he's had a bad day, it's much worse.

You learn to tell when he's had a bad day the moment he walks through the door — you hear how harsh each motion is, how he opens and closes the door, his footsteps, even his breathing as he makes his way over to you. The gruff ‘come here’ as he storms over to you, the harshness with which you're dragged over to bed and thrown down.

Those days are more violent — you end up with scratches and bites and bruises all over your body, strands of hair coming out where he pulled so hard, holes twitching and spasming and cum pouring out of you as you lay there exhausted and sore (as for him, though, he's out like a light as soon as it's over, and the grip he keeps on you means you're not getting up again either).

Being a cop also gives him a lot of tools most people wouldn't have access to. He has easy access to handcuffs and weapons. The handcuffs keep you however he wants you positioned, and he'll use some on your ankles too if need be.

He’s used the stun gun on his belt as a threat plenty of times — you used to think he was bluffing, but one day you go too far and it turns out it's not a bluff at all. It's a horrible, horrible sensation… but even worse is the way he laughs while he shocks you, exhilarated by — and probably, honestly, getting off to — the way you squeal and spasm.

Unfortunately, it awakens something — maybe he could use it on you more often, put it right up to your most sensitive places and see how you react… although not without building up dread and anticipation first, pressing it to your skin so that you beg and cry and he taunts you so mercilessly, with that awful awful smile on his face, before pushing the button and hearing you cry.

...But he's not always so awful. He still includes you in his normal life, at least. You almost wish he didn't. It's this oddly domestic vibe, once all the brutality of the day is out and he's tired and bored.

You talk — at first you kept being annoying and pesting him about letting you go, to which — much to your dread, a pit in your stomach every time he says it — he tells you you're never leaving, so shut up about it. But eventually, with no one else to interact with, you talk about all sorts of things, sometimes almost feeling like a normal conversation with a friend. He brings home food for you, and admittedly, you're almost surprised by the fact that he actually does ask what you want and gets you something different from what he gets based on your tastes. You didn't expect that sort of consideration.

You watch TV (he keeps you chained out of actual reach of the TV itself, just in case you get any ideas), the news (only for him to awkwardly change the channel when your disappearance was being discussed on local news), he even takes your request once or twice to pick up a movie to watch (although he's very critical, particularly if it's too ‘girly’ for his tastes).

But he's still so, so mean, such a bully. You have a lot of time to reflect on it all, and one day you confront him with it — tell him that you know that the reason he does all of this to you, the reason he can't just be normal is because he's bitter and spiteful and afraid of rejection. At first, you sound angry — and as you speak, the way his face contorts with disgust and fury makes you think you may just push him over the edge to actually kill you, and frankly, at this point, it's something you're willing to accept.

But then, tears in your eyes, voice growing quieter, you add—

I really liked you… I thought you were a good guy…

That makes him pause. He gets quiet. You see his face fall to an expression you can't quite name, eyes half-lidded and mouth pulled into a taut line.

Finally, he shrugs, giving you a cruel, snide grin.

Not my fault you were so stupid.

That's all the response you get, and remarkably, that last comment seems to make him let go of being infuriated over everything else you said. For a moment, though, you swear you catch him looking down at the ground with a miserable expression, as if those words actually had a profound effect on him… but it lasts only a second — as soon as he catches you looking at him, his eyes fixate on you again, that smile you hate so much comes creeping back, and your heart sinks as he takes agonizingly slow footsteps over to your helpless, shivering little form….

[loulouwrites]

Situation . Tommy Shelby

warnings: swearing, talk of abortion, talk of war, pregnancy

(word count 2476)

She didn’t even like Tommy Shelby. She was glad he was going to fight in France, she hoped he died there. It wasn’t like they were in love, that they were going to get married, live happily ever after, no, she would never allow that to happen.

She thought about the time she had spent with Tommy. His beloved had just died of consumption, he was broken, helpless. She was just bored. It hadn’t meant anything more than one it was, two people seeking solace in one another in a time of need.

She placed a hand on her stomach. There was nothing there yet; if she had not had it confirmed by a midwife, she wouldn’t believe there was any life in there at all. As her hand rested on her abdomen, she resisted the urge to press down, to punch it until the creature that had infested her body shriveled up, lifeless, like it had never happened. But she didn’t. Instead, she grabbed a teacup from the table next to her and launched it toward the wall, the remaining tea dripping down her arm, the china smashing into tiny pieces against the patterned wallpaper.

She wandered through the streets of Small Heath like a ghost. She didn’t have a destination in mind, but she had to get out of her house—out of the small home that suffocated her. She made no attempt to dodge the children who bumped into her as they ran through the streets, followed by angry men and women. Their laughter cut through her. She thought the sound of children’s laughter was the most awful sound in the world.

“Sorry, miss,” a boy said after he knocked into her. He was small and hadn’t used much force, but it was enough to send her stumbling back a couple of steps.

“Watch where you’re going,” she snapped, shoving past the boy.

She knew what she had to do. There were plenty of women who helped girls in her position. The only issue was that every word got back to the family of thugs on Watery Lane. It shouldn’t have scared her; she was certain Tommy would give her the money himself if he found out. But she didn’t want him to. She wanted nothing from the man who was leaving for France in a few days.

Nobody would want her now. If she kept it, she would be the whore who allowed herself to be impregnated by a Shelby and was raising a bastard child. If she got rid of it, word would get out, and she would still be the whore who allowed herself to be impregnated by a Shelby—and a murderer on top of that. It wasn’t murder in her mind. She didn’t know the thing inside her; it didn’t even have a body yet. But that’s how every man she knew would see it: an abomination against God.

She drifted through the streets, not paying attention to the rain that was beginning to pelt down, soaking her hair and clothes. It felt rather nice, the water cooling her burning skin. She continued walking, ignoring the strange looks she got from people rushing past her, using whatever they had in their hands to cover their heads until they found shelter. She could faintly hear a voice calling her name, but she didn’t stop to see who it was; she wasn’t sure they were even calling out for her. She was about to turn the corner when a hand grabbed her shoulder, spinning her around.

“What the fuck, Tommy?” she cried when she came face to face with the cause of all her troubles.

“Why the fuck are you wandering ‘round in the rain?” he raised an eyebrow in amusement. To him, it was a funny sight, watching a girl floating through the streets in the pouring rain, her clothes soaked.

“Fuck off Shelby,” she spat at him, storming away, leaving him stood there, his arms raised at his sides.

“You’re pregnant.”

The girl’s eyes widened at the older woman’s words.

“Jesus, Polly. I’ve barely opened the door,” she whispered, stepping out of her house and closing the door quietly so as not to disturb her parents in the kitchen.

“Am I wrong?” Polly smirked, taking a drag of her cigarette. She had always liked Polly, almost as much as she feared her.

“No,” she sighed, rubbing her eyes. She was so tired.

“If you’re going to tell my nephew, I suggest you do it quickly. The boys leave for France at the end of the week.”

“How do you know anyway? I haven’t told a soul.”

“Honestly, girl, I saw you floating around the streets yesterday afternoon in the rain. I just had to take one look at you.”

“I’m so scared, Polly,” she started to cry, taking a seat on the doorstep and holding her head in her hands.

“Get up,” Polly told her sternly, grabbing her shoulders and dragging her to a standing position.

“You listen to me. You tell Tommy if you need to tell Tommy, if you’re certain you don’t want to, I will help you take care of it and he never needs to know.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“I’m not here to give you advice, girl. You have to decide what’s best for you.”

“And Tommy?”

“Fuck off. This is your problem to deal with. No man should influence you either way. But ask yourself, could you live with yourself if you kept it from him?”

“I don’t like it when you make sense. It doesn’t suit you,” she joked at the older woman, earning a smack to the side of her head.

The sound of the kettle hissing was the only noise that came from the kitchen of the Shelby home on Watery Lane. She sat on a chair at the kitchen table, her hands in her lap, fiddling with her fingers. The tension in the room was suffocating, whilst the home wasn’t big, it felt a lot smaller to the two people in there once she delivered her news. Tommy sat opposite her, his cigarette held between his fingers, it was almost half ash as it continued to burn, forgotten.

“How long have you known?” he broke the silence once the kettle had stopped hissing on the hob.

“Not long.” 

“What are you going to do?”

“Don’t know.”

“Why did you tell me?”

“Not sure.”

Tommy sighed, standing up from his seat in frustration. He would have appreciated more than two word answers, he would have preferred it if she came into  his house already with a plan, because he didn’t know what to do.

“Do you want to get rid of it?” he asked her, resting his hands on the table, leaning down slightly to meet her eyes.

“I don’t know.” Tommy threw his head back in exasperation, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the situation they had found themselves in, or if it was simply because the girl sat in his kitchen was annoying the fuck out of him.

“I mean I would never get rid of it if I thought I had any other option,” she justified, her eyes wide, the dark circles under her eyes dulling her whole complexion.

“You don’t believe there’s another option?” Tommy frowned, pulling out the chair next to her and taking a seat.

“I just mean if I actually liked the father, if I thought there was a chance we could get married…”

“You don’t like me?” Tommy asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I don’t mean to offend you, Tommy but it’s not like you were with me for the conversation either”

It was hard for Tommy not be offended. While she was right, he wasn’t with her for anything more than a slight comfort on his most lonely nights, he thought he meant more to her than she did to him, that’s how it always was for Tommy Shelby.

“What if we were to be married?” Tommy’s offense heightened when he saw her face twist in disgust, her sticking her tongue out slightly as if she were about to be sick. “It’s not uncommon to marry for this reason, I wouldn’t allow you to raise the child alone like a common who-” he was cut off by a smack against his arm.

“You’re a horrible person, Thomas.”

“Because I’m offering to marry the mother of my child?”

“It doesn’t even make sense,” she sneered at him, the volume of her voice rising. “You’re leaving for France soon”

“Just listen-”

“I mean. You don’t even like me,”

“Listen-”

“Lets say you don’t get blown up in the war, you’re going to come home to a child and a wife you don’t love.”

“Just listen,” he snapped, grabbing her shoulders. “I care, alright? I fucking do. I care about you and I care about my child. If you want to get rid of it, you can, I’ll fucking pay for it myself but I would be honoured if you allowed me to call myself your husband.”

She was silent for a moment, her eyes locked on his, that were wider than she’d ever seen them, studying her carefully. He watched as her mouth curled into a smirk.

“Jesus, Tommy. You don’t have to beg.”

For the common man, hosting a wedding in 10 hours would seem to be an impossible task, but for Tommy Shelby it was rather easy. It was not a glamourous occasion, but they wouldn’t have been able to afford that with all the time in the world. He notified his family first, sending Arthur to the Priest’s home, to inform the man he would be holding a wedding at 9 O’clock the following morning. He then accompanied his bride to be home, to tell her parents, who were less than thrilled that their daughter was marrying a Shelby, much less carrying his child. Nevertheless, they agreed to be at the Church at exactly 9 O’clock.

There weren’t many people in the Church for the wedding, just her small family and Tommy’s much larger one. The groom’s side of the church cheered and howled as the ceremony concluded, the bride’s side sat stone still, small, fake smiles on their faces.

Tommy underestimated how happy he was to be a married man. He thought that maybe it was due to the fact he would be travelling to a battleground the next morning, being shipped to his death, he was relieved he would have a legacy, he would be able to tell his comrades he had a woman at home waiting for him, a child on the way. But, as Tommy looked at the woman who was laughing as his Aunt Polly felt her stomach, he thought maybe he was happy because he liked his wife a lot more than he thought he did.

 The train station was buzzing with life as the men stepped off the train. Women were holding there hands in the air waving to their husbands, their brothers, their sons, with tears in their eyes and smiles on their faces. 

Tommy was one of the last men off the train, allowing his eager comrades to push in front of him, eager to return to their families. His brothers had run off towards the entrance of the station where the women and children would be waiting, slightly away from the chaos of the platform. Tommy didn’t run or push past everyone as he made his way in the direction his brothers had gone, he examined the other families, crying in joy at their reunions, as if they weren’t going back to a life of poverty and devastation. It wasn’t fair to think that way, he should allow the men to be happy for as long as they could before reality set in, but for some reason he couldn’t shake the judgmental feeling he got when he looked at all of the smiling faces.

He could see his brother, John, embracing his wife as his children crowded around him, his brother, Arthur being embraced by his Aunt and Ada, and he could see her, stood slightly to the side, holding the hand of a young child. He stood in front of her for moment, neither of them really knowing what to do. They had been married for less than 24 hours when he left, their reunion wasn’t like the other couples here, it was different. 

He felt like he’d been staring at her for hours when the little girl tapped her on the leg, pulling her down so she could whisper something in her ear. His wife nodded at the girl, standing up straight and reaching her arms out to her husband, who stiffly returned her embrace, his eyes on the young girl at her mother’s feet. He let the woman go, bending down on his knees to face the little girl who was studying him with eyes like his own.

"Hello, Clara,” he greeted the girl for the first time. It was strange, having to introduce yourself to your own child, but he wanted the girl’s first memory of him to be a good one. He wanted her to remember him being the man who got down on his knees just to say hello to her. She waved at him shyly, edging closer to her mother, who placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her closer to the man.

“Your turn, Clara,” her mother told her. Tommy wasn’t used to this version of his wife, he remembered her as the young girl who used to sneak out of her bedroom window to meet him on the street corner - not as a mother to a four year old girl - not as a woman. He decided he liked this version of his wife, he wanted to change too, he wanted to change from a boy that went to war to a father who provided for his family. The young girl stepped closer to Thomas, wrapping her arms around his neck timidly, letting out a giggle when he scooped her up and stood up straight.

“Lets get the fuck home,” Arthur’s voice rang out and they all turned to leave the station, just as they’d left France, without looking back. They walked out of the station as a family, Arthur rushing over to Thomas to snatch the little girl out of his arms. “I’m your Uncle Arthur, I’m gonna teach you so many things.” 

Tommy placed a hand on the small of his wife’s back as they walked,  watching Arthur as he threw his niece up in the air despite his Aunt Polly’s protests.

“I like you a bit more than I thought I did, you know,” Tommy whispered in her ear.

“We’ll see how it goes.”