#and act like going without those things is a fucking crime?

[renku]

Smoothie

Minatozaki Sana x Male Reader

tags: smut, public sex

Everything was supposed to be normal, as agreed upon. But for Sana, things—especially ordinary ones—should be switched up if opportunity presents itself (more like whenever she's in the mood to do so).

Oversized white tee covered her shorts. Sexy thighs out in the open. The notion about her cute yet sexy is a fact. Doesn't matter if she tries to conceal it or not. Those glasses were the cherry on top to the overall fit—plain simple—that gets onto your nerves but still feasting on the sight of it.

The cold, sweet strawberry smoothie tastes fantastic, as Sana continues to invade your mouth in a sloppy French kiss. Soul getting sucked out of your body; an aggressive yet passionate, sinful act.

It never occured once in you that a person completely out of this world would even look your way. Random escapes during night, making excuses to other members, and anything she could come up as a reason just to meet you is still a mystery yet a part of you was glad. You mean, it's Sana, who wouldn't not want that kind of efforts?

Your raging member was already out from its constraints as Sana jerks it off in such a playful way. No established pace was even given in the first place: fast then slow, fast, faster, then slower. It's torture but one you would enjoy everytime.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait. We're back in business after tonight and it would take me days before I can spend another time with you," said Sana.

Words won't even form in your mouth as Sana's hand is focused on your dripping head. Heat increasing as friction is present between your tip and her finger.

The odds were in your favor tonight, not a single soul was passing by where Sana currently commits her crime. It was cold, but both of you are in heat. She grabbed your hand, bringing its presence to her awaiting warmth. Sana's shorts were already down by the time she did this.

"Touch me, and just do your magic on me. Don't say a word. That's when I like you the most."

And just like a man under a spell, you did what she said. Every word. You brushed her folds but focused on her aroused bud. Along with her sweet moans comes her juices flowing out, coating every nook and inch of your fingers. Soon enough, two fingers slipped inside her keyhole, doing the work of unlocking her sweet pleasure.

Breaths and moans filled the space between you and Sana, getting shorter and shorter.

"Oh, God. Yes, that's it."

Sana wants to remained composed even at times like this, even you knew she wanted to scream it all out how good she feels.

With a tight hug to you, she came. Hugging you was the signal that she already had her sweet release. She looked into your eyes, satisfied yet signs were obvious. She wants more—that feeling. The sensation of you being inside her as you make love to her before going to just pure, rough fucking.

And she can't wait. She slowly turned around before bending and lifting the hem of her shirt from the back; exposing that lovely bare pussy and cake right before your own eyes.

As a true man, you willingly obliged to what she wants.

Aiming your cock at her entrance, you pushed inside as it was the first time doing it—relishing what her pussy feels like. Time to the deed, Sana doesn't want to be keep waiting.

Her hips felt your hands, as a steady pace rocks her body.

"Fuck," she said in a dreamy, almost whispering voice. She felt your thing twitch inside her as if it stretches out her insides. The clapping sounds made by the contact of her butt and your lower abdomen were always a music to her ears. She wants more of it , more of you.

Low groans escaped from you as go faster bit by bit. The stream of cold air gave you goosebumps as it made you feel more of Sana's heat.

"Yes, fuck me! Give me all you got before the night ends. I want it all!"

Without even blinking an eye, drilling her hole went faster, fueling that familiar sensation in your groin. You want this to last longer but for the sake of not getting caught in public, it's time to finish the business. Pounding her like a madman, and making one last pull, you erupted inside her. Filling her with all of your cum that some of it slowly escapes her freshly fucked pussy.

After making sure she got it all, you pulled out with an intense feeling of satisfaction. Watching her body heave from the sex she got.

She stood up straight before turning around to face you, smiling. Oh, that smile!

"I didn't notice that I dropped my smoothie, but I got better one anyway," Sana said.

"We should fix ourselves, miss," you replied. "We can't afford to be seen looking like this."

Sana giggled, "You're cute!"

In the end, you just sighed as a mark of defeat. "What am I going to do with you?"

A/N: Pretty plain but need to start somewhere again somehow. Have a good day, folks. Stay safe!

[leclerc-s]

track two - 'cause i knew too much, there was danger

series masterlist

WINTER BREAK 2022

liked by maxverstappen1, alex_albon, logansargeant and others

ines_sainz a little winter break dump for those of you who are not thriving during the off season, like me. featuring a photo max took on my phone

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alex_albon he's going to kill you for getting a new cat.

ines_sainz he'll get over it alex_albon that's a big fat lie

user01 she spent the break in like three different places.

ines_sainz we broke into seb's home. we're having withdrawals user02 she's so real for that

user03 she's acting as if she isn't getting slandered in the spanish media right now.

user04 if it's not true she shouldn't care user05 knowing the sainz family, her excluded, they're probably lying

fernandoalo_oficial nano is a very good cat.

ines_sainz [redacted] would argue otherwise because he hid his left shoe from him yesterday.

maxverstappen1 YOU SAID YOU WERE NEVER GOING TO POST THAT PICTURE!

ines_sainz AND YOU SAID HE WAS NEVER GOING TO FIND OUT ABOUT 2017!

logansargeant i can't wait to meet the new kitty.

ines_sainz and honey can't wait to meet you!

patriciooward i'm committing crimes for your kitty

ines_sainz i would too o'ward, you're not special

user06 your honor, i love her.

georgerussell63 there is not a single thought behind that kitty's eyes. seems like it's father.

ines_sainz you are so lucky he can't comment on here. your ass is cooked in the group chat user07 this is all the confirmation i needed to know that they are gossip girls

ines_sainz posted new stories

not a single thoughts behind those eyes, she takes after her father. babysitting my favorite munchkin 🥰💞 pasta night, but only one of us is allowed to cook without supervision (hint, it's not me who needs supervision)

oscarpiastri replied to your story

oscarpiastri i can't tell if you're insulting me or charles ines_sainz it's actually both of you, you've both got that thousand mile stare down. oscarpiastri i actually hate you right now. ines_sainz love you too amor!

maxverstappen1 replied to your story

maxverstappen1 thanks again for watching her ines_sainz of course! she's a sweet kid, i'll gladly watch her again!

fernandoalo_oficial replied to your story

fernandoalo_oficial los tres ocupan supervisión. [the three of you need supervision] ines_sainz no es cierto! charles ocupa supervision, ocasionalmente oscar, pero yo nunca! [that's not true! charles needs supervision, occasionally oscar, put never me!] ines_sainz yo aprendí a cocinar desde pequeña! [i learned how to cook since i was a kid!] fernandoalo_oficial 🤓☝️ ines_sainz who taught you that?!

jensonbutton replied to your story

jensonbutton so now that you're not racing, you're babysitting? ines_sainz excuse me while i go scream in a pillow ines_sainz THE jenson button knows who I am?? jensonbutton kid, i've known you since 2015 when you used to barge into fernando's garage. i've also got a proposal for you. ines_sainz fire away mr. button, but yes, i'll babysit your kids if you ever need me too. i babysit fernando (please don't tell him i said that)

BAHRAIN 2023

liked by arthur_leclerc, theopouchaire21, liamlawson30 and others

ines_sainz once i fix me, they're gonna miss me (but i won't miss them)

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liamlawson30 how could you possibly go karting without me? do our years of friendship mean nothing to you?

theopouchaire21 OR ME? fredrickvestiofficial OR ME? logansargeant OR ME? arthur_leclerc OR ME? ines_sainz damn, it's almost like you guys miss me or something. liamlawson30 nevermind, go back to rotting with your boyfriend.

maxverstappen1 what's there to fix? you're great the way you are?

ines_sainz aww max, that might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me. maxverstappen1 he's holding me at gunpoint ines_sainz fucking liar. i know you like me bitch!

user08 I'M DYING TO KNOW WHO SHE'S DATING!! THE ANXIETY IS KILLING ME!!

user09 same here! but like she'll tell us when she's ready, she's not ready yet. user10 oh god, how i hope it's charles, just to see carlos' blood boil.

user11 SHE'S HAPPY AND IN LOVE!! REJOICE!!

georgerussell63 YOU WENT KARTING? WITHOUT US?

alex_albon gasp, do we, the twitch squad mean nothing to you? ines_sainz it was a date? logansargeant and you think we care?

user12 bro, who ever this guy is, thank you for getting her smile back.

charles_leclerc are you okay? it looks like he's eating your face off?

ines_sainz you're just jealous. your lonely ass wishes you had somebody. charles_leclerc what makes you think i'm single? ines_sainz you're bitching and moaning at 3am. i get that we're neighbors but please stop complaining.

user13 WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE SHADE??

user14 RIGHT?! SHE JUST BLATANTLY SAID SHE'S DOING BETTER THAN BEFORE?! SHE NEVER NEEDED THEM!! user15 SHE NEVER NEEDED THEM THEY NEEDED HER!! comment liked by ines_sainz

user16 listen, i know she isn't talking to carlos, we're all aware of this, but one would think he would use the comments to annoy her

user17 no cause i was wondering, why isn't carlos being a nuisance in her comments? ines_sainz other than the fact that our mother doesn't want him to make a 🤡 of the family name. i blocked him 💀. i don't need that negativity in my instagram comments user16 ICON!!! user18 it's too late to not make a 🤡 of the family name. no one takes them seriously anymore. they did this shit all on their own. ines_sainz amen to that sister

ines_sainz posted new stories

first day on the job, kinda nervous (jokes, not really) i've only waited since qatar 2021 to see father back on the podium couldn't be prouder of this silly old man 💚

JEDDAH 2023

¡taglist!

@minmira95 @lesliiieeeee @vroomvroommuppett @prongsvault @justtprachisblog @scuderiadevils @cataf1 @chezmardybum @formulaal @lilsiz @norstappenvibes @ironspdy @nikfigueiredo @hinamesgigantica @niniluvsainz @matchaverse @fakeikeastore @theseus-jpg @six-call @81folklore @emppusofi @luvsforme @nichmeddar @loloekie @luvpedro @donttouchthegnote @nothaqks @inferiusreggie @mochimommy2002 @rach3164 @clove08 @clove0 @lillysbigwilly @landonorizzz @jenxjar @blupblupfish @thereadinggremlin05 @meowiarty @magical-spit @camdensreg @laneyspaulding19 @ocyeanicc @yelenasloverrrrr @percervall @blushmimi @spilled-coffee-cup @moldyshorts1997 @michelleyw81

¡not taggable!

@ashlovestoread1411 @books-thingys-andstuff @nothanqks @yeanoskrrt @ale-522 @aandreea_2005 @Katness1 @mgmoore @Scott-McCall-could-lift-mjolnir @Greantii @xxx-betty @ietss @ririyulife

¡leclerc-s speaks!

violence is always the answer with this friend group. i won't be talking about every single race of the season 2023 season because that's just boring. we all know how the season ended anyways 💀 know the inés as a reporter was only done to terrorize d*nica, it's not permanent, i have plans. jenson and inés are about to form the hate d*nica club.

¡disclaimer!

this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

03 — MY COMPASS, MY TRANSPORT

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

“I have nothing else to live for.”

It’s a truth. A deep, earnest one – and it’s the only option you have.

Without Graves, without your Shadows, you have nothing. No income, no family, no support. You're left with the clothes on your body and the shoes in which you stand, with no hope of finding your footing.

In the darkness, the only light shines from the headlights of the truck, and the red of the radio. It’s silenced, of course, but it serves as a beacon of something between you all.

“I don’t – I have no other choice,” you say, voice trembling. You would not break in front of them, but you could feel yourself cracking; porcelain underneath a harsh grip. Turning yourself so you’re completely facing the two, your expression turns desperate. “I want to help you both, and I want to save Phi– Graves.”

You correct yourself at the final moment, wary of your slip up.

“Save ‘im? From what? Feckin’ charges for war crimes? Getting his ass handed to ‘im?” Soap chokes out, incredulous, eyes wide where they meet yours. He winces when he moves forward too quick, straining his arm.

“He’s…” You look down at your hands, merely watching for a moment as they close into a fist and open again. Blood crusts underneath your fingernails. “He’s all I have. I’m sure he just needs a wake up call, someone to snap him out of it.”

“He tried to kill us,” Ghost speaks up, matter-of-fact, but quiet. As if at any moment, his words will wake up the entire city. If there were any civilians left in it, you supposed. Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“...And I had to kill some of my men.”

It’s a confession of sin. Like poison on your tongue, yet at the same time, an anecdote to an evil in your veins. You’d killed your men. You’d… done that.

You still haven’t quite allowed yourself to realise it, not yet.

But if it’s enough to keep you alive right now, so be it. You hadn’t gotten this far just to give up over something as inconsequential as pride.

“Ye will tell us everything you know about ‘im. And’ll help us until we figure out what to do. We’re our own bosses now, Sweetheart,” Soap commands, that fucking nickname of his seeming to stick. You don’t dispute it – not right now, not when this is quite literally life or death.

“I promise,” you say, resolute and stern. There was no time for self-pity or wallowing, only time for action and conviction – something you had in spades. “I’m yours for as long as you need me.”

You hadn’t known how true those words would be – not then, and not for a good while. But they were a prophecy, if such a thing could at all be possible for a woman like you.

Soap and Ghost share a look; a brief, yet important one, before Ghost gives the Scot a short nod. Soap turns once more to you, his face betraying the answer of their silent agreement.

“...So?” You suggest, impatient considering the consequences of the next few moments. 

Bringing a hand up to stroke at his stubbled chin, Soap makes an act of pretending to ponder – and it succeeds in stoking the flames at your core, fury burning through you like a liquor-soaked rope.

“I dunno, lass,” he says on a sigh, his ocean eyes betraying a mischief in their depths. “Yer kinda mean to me.”

You might choke him.

Actually, check that, you will choke him. He’s impossible – an arsehole to the nth degree – somehow worse than Ghost in his… foolishness? Was that the right word? Or just straight frustrating-ness?

Seeming to sense your thinning patience, Soap’s hand falls from his jaw with a mirthful smirk, proud of himself. 

“If ye say pretty please, ye can join our lil’ duo.” He finishes the statement off with a wink, and you don’t realise that your hands have curled into fists until the sharp pain of nails digging into your palms force you to resort back to your senses.

You let out a slow, loud breath. 

Neither of them move a muscle, except for the twitch of Soap’s dimple. You hate that you recognise such a small movement, but you easily blame it on the fact that it’s a drilled-in mentality.

“...Please,” you acquiesce, however quiet. 

Ghost’s eyebrow raises. How you’re aware of that, considering his mask, is a props to him. 

“That’s not what he asked for.” His voice is a low, husky thing, and the title of guard dog suddenly doesn’t sound so incorrect.

With your teeth gritted and cheeks straining, you mutter out, “Pretty please.”

Soap’s responding smile is nothing short of beaming, and you almost immediately wish that you could take those words back. Was death really so bad? Would it even be a mercy, compared to deciding to share a threadbare camaraderie with these weirdos?

Too bad time control isn’t exactly a well-researched military weapon.

“Let’s go then,” Ghost slaps his gloved hand against the steering wheel, before looking one last time towards you with purpose, “Sweetheart.”

Soap laughs.

You get out and slam the door in his face.

“Och! You feckin’ bastard, lass,” you hear him screech, before the door opens once more and Soap hops out, fuming.

Turning away, you fall behind Ghost, and quickly take a look around at the vast, empty area that is barren suburbia. Not before responding, however.

“Next time you get shot, I’m not taking care of your ass,” you threaten. “And I’m giving the rest of my sweets to Mr. Melodramatic.”

Soap’s returning mock gasp is, in all fairness, pretty comedic. “You have more sweets? Gimme those and ye lovely bedside manners ‘nd I’ll get a cavity!”

Your returning glare could cut steel. “Keep that up, and you’ll end up with bigger issues than a cavity.”

“I think ye are already the bigger issue,” Soap snaps back, but it’s not inherently malicious. It’s… borderline playful, and that sudden thought has you internally slapping yourself.

“Both of ya – quiet,” Ghost warns.

You both shut up immediately.

With wary steps, the three of you go to step up towards the front door, when Ghost swings out a hand, stopping the lot of you in your tracks. The night doesn’t allow for any of you to see well, but he must’ve picked up something that you hadn’t.

The thought is an immediately terrifying one.

“Pressure plates,” Soap murmurs under his breath, eyeing the square linoleum tile. “Nice catch, Lt.”

Ghost doesn’t respond, instead motioning for you to follow him towards a glassless window. Gravel crunches underneath your light footfalls, easily heard in the deathly quiet, as you move to swing your leg over the access point and drop to the floor inside.

Landing with a soft thud, you go to unfurl from your crouching position, before a loud warning shout from Ghost has you freezing.

Flinching where you stand, your eyes dart to where Ghost has flung one of his daggers, the sharp metal splintering a wooden beam further into the dark room. Realising that Soap sits at your flank, you shift your gaze to spot a red light focused in on his forehead – between his eyes.

“¿Quien esta ahi?” An unfamiliar, accented voice calls out from behind the beam. You could slap yourself for being so careless, in not realising that someone else was in here before Ghost had saved your arses. 

“Rodolfo!” Soap calls out, relief flooding his tone as he rights his position, shoulders back.

A man peeks out from behind the wood, eyes wide and slightly panicked, before they soften at the sight of the two men behind you. “Soap! Ghost! You’re alive!”

Stepping out from around the beam, he reaches for Ghost’s dagger, pulling it away from where it had dug into the oak with undeniable ease. His appearance is striking, with a set jaw and gentle features – he’s quite pretty, but not at all in a way that you find yourself attracted to the man.

“Affirmative,” Ghost responds, accepting the knife back when the man – Rodolfo – hands it to him hilt-first.

“Good to see you, amigos,” Rodolfo smiles, before his appraisal sets on you, confusion sparking in his deep brown eyes. He looks to the two men at your side for an explanation, hesitant in the way he does so.

“This is…” Soap trails off, before coming to a realisation. “Feckin’ hell. I never even asked for yer name, Sweetheart.”

Rodolfo blinks. Once, twice, before his eyebrows furrow and his mouth settles into an uncomfortable grimace.

You shoot a glare Soap’s way, before gifting Rodolfo a polite, yet stilted, smile. Extending your hand, you give him your name, and then your official title.

“Colonel? Graves’ colonel?” Rodolfo repeats back, utterly taken aback by such an introduction. He doesn’t seem to know what to do, quickly hissing to Soap in unamused Spanish, “¿Has perdido la cabeza?”

“I saved his life,” you interrupt, before any verbal sparring begins. “And I’m on your team. I don’t agree with what Graves is doing – and I’m sorry for what he’s already done. But I want to help you. I swear.”

Rodolfo regards you for a moment, his internal walls still heavily locked in place. But he seems… softer, now, in a way. More understanding, maybe, less hesitant as he slowly appraises you, inspecting you under his critical analysis.

The silence stretches, before the soldier raises his hands placatingly, the left side of his mouth twitching into a smooth smirk. “No accusations from me, Corazón,” he reassures, the pet name sliding from his full lips like butter over warm toast.

“Aye, none of tha’,” Soap warns, and Rodolfo’s amusement deepens. Whatever the Scot is about to say next is abruptly stopped by Ghost’s booming demand from behind you both.

“Anyone outside of these walls is now considered a hostile – we’re a team now. This happened under my watch, and I’d bloody well do good to fix it.” His posture is stiff, hand unconsciously flexing around the blade strapped to his belt as he delivers the order. It’s the most you’ve ever heard him speak in one shot.

You figure he’s stopped speaking, when suddenly his heavy gaze is on you, any ounce of solidarity snuffed out like a match’s flame. “You fuck up once, Sweetheart, and I won’t hesitate when I shoot ya dead.”

It’s as good of a compromise as you’re going to get from the hulking Lieutenant, but you weren’t made Colonel for your talents in stepping down.

“You forget that I outrank you,” you challenge, chin raised and eyes flinty. “And that I saved your mutt.”

“We don’t have a feckin’ dog,” Soap starts, but when he sees the way Ghost side eyes him, and how you give him an unimpressed look, his jaw drops. “Ye bastard! Shoulda killed ya –”

Rodolfo’s hand wraps around Soap’s forearm, the grumbling man twisting in his hold, but not putting up anything close to a fight. “She’s just stirring you up, hermano,” Rodolfo placates, his large eyes meeting yours with a hint of respect in them. It has you straightening your spine, and your resolve.

“We sort this out as equals,” you state, folding your arms over your chest and bucking your hip. Ghost doesn’t, for a single second, shift your mutual eye contact. “And you will all tell me what the fuck’s going on – and what we’re doing.”

“Alejandro,” Ghost quips, sharp and to the point. Finally, you think, his near-black eyes drift to Rodolfo. “We need him back.”

“He’s the only other lad we can trust out there,” Soap adds, his pout easing slightly. Rodolfo finally drops his hand, clapping it hard against the petulant man’s shoulder with a firm nod.

“Already got a head start, hermanos,” he gestures for the three of you to follow him further into the room, before his calculating eyes glance back at you, “y hermana.”

It’s an unknown, entirely different feeling that erupts inside of your chest at the inclusion. Rodolfo was clearly the most soft spoken man of the three, but he had an intelligence to him that you couldn’t wait to unpack. And he trusted you. Or so you had gathered, anyway.

However.

First things first.

“...Where’s Alejandro? I thought he was Mexican Special Forces?” It was, admittedly, a unique kind of embarrassing – how out of the loop you felt, considering you were a colonel under Graves’ command. You’d heard the man’s name before, but it was usually just paired with barracks gossip and warnings to steer clear. Some joke about how the only one who could kill Alejandro, was the soldier himself.

Moving along with Rodolfo, you’re surprised when it’s Soap who supplies you the answer.

“Your fuckwit of a Commander’s got ‘im,” he curses, the words grating and harsh. Deserved, of course it was deserved, yet it was still odd hearing such disrespect for the man of whom you’d idolised for so long.

Of whom you’d given everything.

Switching a light on, Rodolfo stops in front of a large table, a map laid out across the top of it. Your eyes go wide at the intricacies – focusing as the man leans over and presses a finger towards a highlighted spot, watching the three of you where you stand on the other side. Dust floats near the source of the lamp, and the scent of grime hits you a moment later, a familiar thing.

“Graves is holding him here,” Rodolfo explains, his previously mischievous expression settling into a firm, military-grade frown.

“His own personal black site prison,” Soap scoffs, subconsciously flexing his fingers around the straps of his vest. His focus is utterly devoted to the map in front of him, but his anxiety shows itself through the tiniest of movements.

Rubbing his spare hand down his face, Rodolfo lets out a long, strewn-out sigh. “My men are locked in there, too.”

“Then let’s get them back,” you supply with a small shrug when all eyes shoot your direction.

“That’s obvious, lass,” Soap says, lacking any hint of his previous vitriol when he looks around the room. “How we get ‘em back is the question.”

“By breaking in,” Ghost answers, the retort as simple as breathing.

If you weren’t so receptive to body movements, to the smallest of expressions, you’d’ve missed it. Even then, you doubted that anyone could miss how Soap’s eyes soften when he looks to his Lieutenant, how his breath softly hitches in his throat.

You want to claw out your eyes with a rusty spoon.

By the look on Rodolfo’s face, he feels much the same – until he catches you staring, and then his face twists into something much more cryptic. Like a man trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces, being forced to jam spares into spots that just won’t fit.

“We need weapons,” you startle out, the words surprising even yourself. You don’t go back on them, don’t even think to. “If we want to stand a fighting chance – we need firepower.”

“Who said you’re with us?” Ghost questions snarkily, but when you go to reply, you find that Rodolfo’s moved to the corner of the room, switching on even more lights, displaying a wrought iron door.

Sliding it open, you feel like a kid on Christmas morning as you take note of the supplies within.

Rodolfo shrugs, but the small, smug grin on his face doesn’t dispel. “It’s well-stocked. This is Ale we’re talking about.”

The affectionate nickname is something you store away for later. ‘Well-stocked’ is certainly an understatement – guns of all types line the walls within the room, all types of bombs and grenades along with it.

“Alright,” Ghost huffs out, the closest to appreciative that a man like him can get.

Soap is much more upfront about his joy. “My man!” He laughs, his dimples etched into his features like the light spattering of freckles over his upper cheeks and nose bridge. “We’re gonna need new wheels. Preferably up-armoured.”

Digging into his pocket, Rodolfo pulls out a set of keys, tossing them over to Ghost with relaxed shoulders. Turning, shock must be evident on all of you, because Rodolfo lets out a low chuckle. “Your wish is my command, hermanos y hermana.”

To the far end of the room, within the adjoined stables, is a fully-armoured forward drive of some sort – sleek and black and fucking perfect.

“Alejandro thought of everything,” Ghost admires, and when you look to him, you swear that you can see a hint of hope shining in his darkened eyes. Your heart skips a beat on its own accord, and you’re absorbed by the all-consuming want to pull it out of your chest with your bare hands, just so it never does such a thing again.

“Yeah, he did,” Soap whistles, before turning back around to face your small band of misfits. With a determined grin, he says as if it’s an afterthought, “Let’s go get ‘im.”

With a stern resolve and an even sterner disposition, you walk alongside your newfound teammates, and get ready for the most difficult mission of your military career.

*

When you’d, stupidly, recklessly, decided to play good guy and helps out the 141 and Los Vaqueros, you hadn’t taken into account how you’d be at the bottom of the totem pole.

While the three men you were working alongside were all considerably close, you were an outsider. At that, an outsider who had, only a few hours ago, decided to swap sides from enemy to ally.

Being paired with Ghost is, arguably, the most gut-wrenching job in your life. By the time that Rodolfo finds Alejandro through the CCTV system, you’re nearly entirely covered in dried blood, and your head thumps with a headache.

Not a headache from war – a headache from the fucking twat with a shitty DIY job for a military get-up.

“You’re seriously the worst,” you grit out, wiping off a bit of Shadow blood that’s been sprayed on your cheek. “I seriously can’t fucking believe that any one of your mates can tolerate you.”

“Who needs ‘mates’ when I have my boys?” Ghost quips back, wiping off his bloody dagger onto his vest, before slotting it back into its rightful position on his belt. His ability to blend into the night, even with the prison lights on, is uncanny – the only tell the white of his stitched-in skull.

You mock a disgusted sound, sticking out your tongue. “You sound like a fuckboy.”

“A what?” And, although it sounds nothing like a choke, you’re sure that it’s an instinctual question.

The sound of a helicopter up ahead has the two of you pausing in your tracks, feud coming to a quick halt. Looking up, you struggle to see the vehicle in the black of night, but you manage to spot the slowly circling heli above the prison.

“Ghost, Sweetheart, what’s yer status?” Soap’s voice trickles in through your comms. Ghost glances at you, before he answers on your behalf, ever the control-freak.

“Comin’ your way.”

Falling into step side-by-side, you focus on the wet gravel underneath your feet, avoiding making any communication with the man to your right.

“Copy. We’re on the move,” Soap replies, before Rodolfo cuts in.

“Heads up on the helo,” he warns. You find that you much prefer him over the other two – in fact, under any other circumstance, you could see the two of you becoming good friends. Maybe, if everything goes well, that could be a possibility – a positive in your world of negatives.

“Don’t think we’re in his line of sight,” you respond, double-checking your route and the helicopter's position in the sky. Rodolfo had warned you all, debriefing in the drive here, that helicopters would likely show up at some point.

Minutes pass, with small comms between the lot of you, when you finally spot the familiar figures belonging to the other half of your precarious team. 

Soap and Rodolfo stand at the entrance, before the two turn at the sound of your and Ghost’s footsteps. They both seem to visibly loosen their stiff shoulders, seeing you both uninjured – and if you do the same, you pray that no one notices.

“The door’s locked,” Soap informs you all, gesturing to the steel entrance5.

With a small hum, Rodolfo reaches for the pack on his vest. “We’ll need to breach it,” he explains, but before he can grab a charger, Ghost raises a hand to stop him.

“No, Rudy –” And that is a nickname that you’ll be using later, “Knock.”

Rodolfo seems apprehensive, but he agrees anyway, giving all three of you separate glances. “On me…”

All of you getting into readying positions, Rodolfo knocks on the door, the sound echoing loud enough to have your blood pounding in your ears.

A moment later, a Shadow – one you don’t recall having met – pushes open the door and moves to step outside. However, Rodolfo and Ghost are quick to neutralise him, softly dropping his body to the floor.

Pushing through the entrance, everyone except for you shoot a Shadow dead – clearing the room in less than twenty seconds. It’s impressive, how smoothly run the operation is, considering the lack of proper authority or guidance.

You’re the first to spot some more Shadows moving your way, down the stairs – calling it out. “More Shadows from the second floor – watch out!”

This time, you find yourself the cause of two men falling to the ground, blood pooling underneath their lifeless bodies. Your team doesn't give you time to second guess, to mourn, before they’re encouraging you to follow them up the stairs.

“Ale’s up here, let’s go!” Rodolfo urges, his voice bordering on a kind of desperation reminiscent of a boy enlisting for the first time.

Like expected, Alejandro’s cell is down the hall, sat to the far right. Two Shadows guard the steel door, but Soap and Rodolfo are quick to light them up, successfully clearing the entire two floors. You’re ashamed of how relieved you feel, being gifted the small mercies of not having to kill your previous subordinates, unless necessary.

You feel, more than see, Ghost’s heavy gaze on you. When you look back up from the gun in your hands, however, he’s turned completely away – and if you were a less accurate person, you’d have thought you were imagining things.

“There’s Alejandro’s cell.” Stopping at the steel door, Rodolfo adjusts his grip on the gun, before giving you an encouraging jerk of his head. “Open it up, me and Soap will cover you.”

Another small mercy, you think, as Ghost reaches into his backpack and pulls out a set of bolt cutters, regarding you stiffly. “When I pop this lock, you push in,” he directs you curtly, and you bite back a retort. You knew the process like the back of your hand – you had no need for an explanation.

The ‘especially from him’ goes unsaid.

With precise, practised movements, Ghost positions the bolt cutters, and pushes open the door.

As soon as you take one step into the cell, a large hand wraps around the back of your neck, slamming your face into the concrete wall, a blinding pain shooting through your retinas. Letting out a small yelp, your chest rattles as your hands wildly raise in an imitation of surrender.

“Alejandro! Let go of ‘er! It’s us!” Soap calls out, and you swallow unhealthy amounts of air. That hit had taken more out of you than you’d expected – and your harsh breaths were making that incredibly apparent.

The grip on the scruff of your neck slackens when Rodolfo shoots off in quickfire Spanish, “Coronel, relájate, cabron, somos nosotros.”

Your cheek aches and your head pounds as the hand removes itself entirely, allowing for you to take in lungfuls of oxygen.

“Soap, Ghost!” Alejandro bursts out, and as you rise to your feet unsteadily, you watch as he thumps both of them on the back of their shoulders, before turning to Rodolfo with an expression that could only be described as longing. “...Rudy.”

“Didn’t think we’d leave ya, did ye?” Soap chuckles, oblivious to the thread of tension between the two men. 

Whatever silent conversation had occured between the two enforcers is quickly cut as Alejandro accepts the shake of Soap’s hand, a feral grin wide on his features. “What took you so long, pendejos?”

“A traitor with an attitude is what,” Ghost inputs, and really, how much self control can a Lieutenant lack? Wiping at your cheek, you let your hand fall once more to your side as you meet Alejandro’s inquisitive gaze head-on.

“I’m Graves’ previous colonel,” you extend your hand, “And I’m your best bet at getting your base back.”

You expect suspicion, uproar, maybe – or at least questioning, similar to that of Rodolfo’s.

Instead, all you’re met with is Alejandro’s manic smile sharpening, and a slap on the back of your own. Ruffling your hair, he uses his free hand to accept the gun Rodolfo’s extending towards him, shooting you a knowing glance.

“Sounds good, hermana. Welcome to how real men fight.”

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Dynamight can’t seem to focus on his duties with a pretty little thing like you taking your sweet time scoping the crime scene.

Adult!Bakugou x Forensic Detective!Reader

⚠️ fluff. violence.

l Next l

You’re trying to gather a sample of blood for evidence and he’s standing behind you with his arms crossed, jabbing at his teeth with a little wooden pick. When he’s done his idle activity, he tosses the pick in the trash. At least he’s meticulous about keeping the crime scene uncontaminated… for the most part.

“You done yet, princess?”

You purse your lips. If this was the first handful of times he used the pet name, you might have corrected him. It’s clear, at this point, that he doesn’t care to respect your wishes, so you elect to ignore him. Unfortunately, he seems to have a chip on his shoulder.

“Hey. You hear me?”

And you ponder to yourself, who the fuck do you think you are? because never, in your four years of being a forensic detective, have you dealt with a hero who acted like this.

You snap your head around to glare at him. When he greets you with a cocky grin — a very made you look expression — you want nothing more than to throw the victim’s keys at his face. Dynamight. You heard he helped save the world from All For One’s return, years ago, when the world was abandoning hope. You don’t doubt that his involvement is true, but surely his personality should have matured since then.

“Do I look done to you?” You ask rhetorically, latex gloves strapped to your elbows and vibrant eyes hidden behind thick lenses. “It’s only been half an hour.”

Bakugou’s grin widens upon getting a good look at you. You think he’s going to laugh. He’s seems like one of those jock types that still bullies because he never grew out of it. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t do anything of the sort. Instead, he sighs and walks over to you.

Normally, you would tell him to back away from the scene, but the words of caution catch in your throat. His sharp auburn eyes are boring into yours. There’s a spark on amusement dancing in the depths of his irises, though it’s the other emotion that catches your attention: curiosity. Perhaps this blunt hero has some semblance of professional focus, after all.

“Exactly. Half an hour. We could’ve gotten this shit done in five minutes.”

You roll your eyes. Forget what you thought. He just wants to go home. Well, if that’s the case, you can put him to work.

“Make yourself useful and hold this device for me.”

You shove the item into his hand. He grasps it instinctively. You don’t hear any complaints.

While you swab for a solid sample of the victim’s blood, he waits idly next to you, silently studying your process. He observes your craft with respect, knowing heroes can’t do their jobs as well without your role. His younger self — who so visibly struggled with disobeying any form of authority — might have roofed the device after it was forced upon him. He’ll hold onto it for you. At least it looks like you’re being thorough with the case.

But as the sequence goes on, he finds his gaze drifting to your features. He’s immune to a lot of things, but not pretty women.

You catch him when you finish your task. He’s swift to glance away. Oblivious to his fascination, you smirk.

“Didn’t know you were interested in forensics.”

He snorts.

“I ain’t. I’m interested in you.”

And he doesn’t miss how you bite your lips to stop yourself from smiling.

[anjelicawrites]

Fun to be had

Paring: Michael Gavey x reader

Synopsis: you’re studying alone on a Friday night, and decide to, finally, face the weird guy following you. Fun ensues.

Warnings: dry humping in public (in a library), almost getting caught, kissing, biting, scratching, Michael’s accidental stalkerish behaviour.

A/N: reader is AFAB but not described. Where needed, they/them pronouns used.

It’s Friday night and you should be out, getting drunk at the pub or dancing your arse off at the club, instead, you are at the library, different editions of the same poem opened in front of your face, not because you are cramming for a paper, but because you don’t feel like having to deal with people, irritated as you are with life now.

You have those days where you don’t feel like being sociable, instead, you have this need to live through the words of others, pouring over different editions of the same work, until you are satisfied with the results of your own translation. This specific Friday is one of those days, and you are elated that the library is empty, or almost.

You are not truly alone, hidden in this corner because, sitting at the other table of this little nook, there’s a guy.

You are almost positive his name is Michael, Michael something, mathematical genius and nerd at the end of the social hierarchy. The guy who has been following you, changing his sitting place every single time you did in the past few weeks.

You didn’t see it at the start, with the library always packed you started sitting wherever you could find a free spot and thought nothing when he did the same, you didn’t even noticed him!

You realized when you started studying late in the evening.

With the library half empty, this Michael guy could have picked any spot, every single time, instead he kept sitting at a table next to yours, always with a good vantage point. Yet, you kept telling yourself that maybe he just didn’t want to sit somewhere alone in a place which becomes creepy at night time, nothing to truly see here, but, but… If you have to be blunt about it, he doesn’t give you the idea of a chap who is afraid of being alone; if he is who you think he is, then having no friends it’s his norm.

You could have left it at that, forget about the whole thing, but you are curious, far more than what’s healthy for you, so you concocted a plan, quite stupid really, to gauge his reaction. You partner in crime, albeit without knowing it, had been you friend Ellie, who was studying for a chemistry exam, quite complicated and hard to pass. One night you two were studying and she was getting more and more frustrated, you decided to act.

“So.” You asked her. “What do you think about science?”

“Fuck science!” Right on cue she gives you the answer you need.

Staring in the direction of Michael you said loud and clear.

“Yeah, fuck science indeed” right the second he was looking at you.

It might have been a random coincidence, but he became bolder after your little experiment, his eyes not leaving yours whenever you stared up from the books and even changing tables, whenever a spot nearer yours was freed, and he was already sitting somewhere else, as if he wanted you to know what he was doing.

But what was that he was hoping to achieve by acting like a stalker?

You lift your head and there he is, seemingly engrossed in his own work, glasses low on his long nose and the irritation you’ve felt all day spikes up, red and warm in your belly and you know you shouldn’t do a single thing, but pack your stuff and go back to your dorm, you know you should, yet you stare at him again and he’s looking at you, unabashedly, with that pretentious smile on his face and you throw all your good intentions out of the window.

You stand up, the old chair scraping on the floor and march towards him. He looks startled and huffs in surprise when you straddle his legs and pop his thick glasses up his head.

“I think it’s time we greet one another properly, don’t you think? You’ve been following me around, after all!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

In his panic he tries to slide you off himself, but your ground yourself against his body, your hands grabbing the backrest of his chair, forgetting that you are wearing a skirt tonight.

“Care to tell me why you’re acting like a stalker?”

“I’m not a stalker!” He seems to have managed to grasp control back, the mask of surprise gone from his face. “Get off me!”

“I will, when you’ll tell me the truth!”

Michael had noticed you during a sunny afternoon in the library.

He was slaving over some physics homework, more boring than hard for him and he had let his eyes wander, just to distract himself for a moment.

You were sitting at his same table, facing him and a bit on his right side; you had a fortress of books around you and were furiously taking notes, that’s what had made him stop his gaze: how hard you were studying.

Michael knows many people come to the library as a mean to see and be seen by their peer, others truly try to work and can’t hold their focus for too long you, on the other end, didn’t look like the kind of person who would truly work their arse off so early in the semester, yet there you were, making use of the ridiculous amount of colorful post – it notes in your possession. He had snickered when noticing the animal themed stationery you were using and but hey! You shouldn't judge the book from his cover, right?

Almost absentmindedly, he had started looking for you, when at the library, just to see if he was right in his early observation, and you kept surprising him with the way you would single – mindedly concentrate on your work.

One afternoon, it was very late and most people were already gone, he had taken a peak at your notes, while you were looking for another book, curious to know what you were studying with such a passion and discovered it had to do with linguistics. He had no idea what your coursework talked about, but a quick look at your scrambled handwriting, revealed him a smart mind. This was his tipping point, when he had decided that he wanted to get to know you, if only he had the slightest idea how to!

He had never thought that, casually, sitting nearby you would have been stalkerish, it’s just that he doesn’t know how to start a conversation with you, he’s not that kind of guy! If you were in one of his courses, he would have found a way to get to know you better, but you don’t, and you pay your fellow students no mind, when you are at the library. What’s a guy to do but keep an eye on you, waiting for the right moment to act?

After the whole ‘Fuck science’ shenanigans, he had thought you must have caught wind of what he was doing and maybe you would have started something yourself, but you didn’t. Until tonight.

You realize how embarrassing your position is, when his hands fly on your hips to still your movements, and you register his hardening cock against your wet pussy (and when did that happen?)

“Are you done?” He asks, piercing eyes fixated on yours. “I’m Michael, since you wanted to greet me properly. What’s your name?”

You stare at him dumbly. What have you just done?

His hands curl on the meat of your hips and you yelp in surprise. You need to abort this mission, immediately, but now he’s the one who’s not letting you go.

“So?” He says mockingly. “You were in such a hurry to invade my space, and now you’re acting shy?”

He is well aware of how ridiculous the whole setup is, that he should let go, but you are staring at him with wide, surprised eyes, that he can’t help himself and see how far you’ll let him go.

“Talking big from the guy who’s been stalking me for weeks!”

You’re desperately trying to find your footing again; what the hell were you thinking?

“I wasn’t stalking you! You’re truly hard to know!”

“What?”

You need to check your bearings for a second: when did you fall in a Beckett play?

“I just said that you are hard to know.”

“And you thought that… whatever that was, was an actual good idea? Aren’t you supposed to be the smart guy?”

“You are acting dumb yourself, love, straddling your supposed stalker like that!”

The whole situation is so surreal, that the two of you stare at one another, and start laughing, until you are both breathless, and your faces are incredibly close.

He is pretty, extremely so, long eyelashes and high cheekbones, a beautiful, kissable mouth when it’s not curled in his signature, mocking smile. His eyes are slightly unfocused, the brilliant blue losing against the expanding pupil. And he is so warm, his hands on your hips clench and unclench, following the fast rhythm of his breathing.

You hadn’t realize how handsome he is and now he is taking your breath away.

He licks his dry lips and you can’t help but follow the motion, imagining how his tongue would feel against your cunt. Without you even noticing, your hips start moving again against the rough material of his jeans, your lips hovering over his, his hands pushing your closer against his hard cock, you two moan, lips almost touching and he decides to take the matter in his own hands.

Grabbing your nape, he pulls your face towards his, tongue entering your parted mouth without asking for permission, seeking your clumsily, and you let him take the wheel.

He’s desperate in the way he is kissing you, no finesse or control, just his mouth slanted against yours, his tongue fucking your throat and his hands in your hair to keep you where he wants you. You’ve been kissed better, but never with such a passion and need. You can barely breath, your body crushed against his, and you don’t care.

You are both breathless when your lips part, a thin line of spit connecting the two of you.

“Please, tell me you have a condom.” You beg, your forehead finding home against his.

“I don’t. I’ve never -”

The embarrassment in his voice stops you.

Oh Christ on a bike, you think, oh fuck. This, you didn’t expect. Not that you’re an expert yourself, only having a past relationship to account for, but your ex hadn’t been a virgin, you were.

“I’m sorry.” You say, trying to dismount, to no avail, his hands are like manacles on your hips.

“Stay.”

The way he says it, he’s not begging you, he’s telling you what to do and you feel it in your cunt, molten heath growing there, expanding in your tummy, turning your legs into jelly.

“I’m not going to have unprotected sex.”

Michael cocks his head to the side, his eyes dark with need.

Never, not even in his wildest dreams, he had imagined to find himself in this position. If he’s not going to have sex with you, and he will not without a condom, he’s not stupid, he still wants to quench the thirst he sees in your eyes and feels in his own loins.

“Me neither.” He pushes you downward against his painfully hard cock, the friction delicious and cruel.

You hide a moan against his neck, your lips landing where his pulse is, sucking the sweaty skin with desperation. You start canting your hips again against the rough material of his jeans, his hands helping you find the right angle against his erection, pain and pleasure take possession of your body, your lips desperate on his, your teeth biting his lower lip and he forces you even tighter against his crotch and it hurts, the pleasure burns your skin when he grinds your hips, your clit feeling the brunt of his punishment even through the layers your are wearing. Your hands grab his hair and his hide under your skirt, his long fingers grabbing your ass, squeezing hard, nails catching in worn fabric: he needs you, needs to become one with you.

He whimpers when you bite his shoulder through his sweater, one hand finds its way under your jumper and rakes down your back, you whimper, so close, so close.

Your orgasm shatters you, your teeth biting Michael’s shoulder harder and deeper as he keeps rutting against you; you want to tell him it’s too much but he’s making delicious sounds, half strangled moans of pleasure that inflame your body again, a smaller orgasm hitting you when he comes, his face hidden against your neck.

“Is anyone there?”

The haziness of pleasure is broken the second you hear footsteps heading in your direction, and panic follows.

Mrs Daniels, the librarian pokes her head in the small alcove at the far end of the library.

“Sorry to interrupt you.” She says. “Did you hear strange sounds just now?”

The two students stare owlishly at her: poor kids must be studying their arses off. They look like they’ve just ran a marathon, hair sticking at weird angles, and the boy’s cheeks are apple red. Youngsters these days!

“No. We were having a chat, a little break.” Says the one behind a huge row of books.

“Yeah, we were just chatting.” Adds the one she thinks is named Michael, with a smile she can’t truly decipher.

“Oh well, I must have been mistaken then, there’s only the two of you around at this point. Goodnight then.”

The second you two are positive the older woman is far away enough, you two start laughing, barely hiding your guffaws behind your hands.

“Well.” You manage to finally say. “That was close!”

You try not to feel embarrassed when your eyes land on Michael, whose stare is piercing behind his thick glasses.

“Yeah. And I still don’t know your name.”

Heath pools in your lower tummy at the way his voice is low and raspy, desire clear in the way he rakes his eyes down your body.

“You can always come by my dorm and find out.”

Christ, the way Michael’s lips curve, tells you he’s going to discover more than your name tonight.

Everythig taglist: @hightowhxre

[the-cryptographer]

Fenris's anger towards Danarius in act 1 is so deceptive. Not that it doesn't exist - it definitely exists, is very real and all-consuming. And Fenris definitely creates a very logically sound argument for why it exists and why Danarius deserves to die and why it would be incredibly insulting to just pay Danarius for his own freedom - ie. the institution of slavery is evil! after everything he's taken from me, why does he also deserve my money?! (Absolutely a fair point. But nevermind that Fenris knows perfectly well that Danarius is already extremely wealthy, and already expending a far greater amount of money having him tracked and hunted and brought back alive than Fenris could ever hope to match.) And I think it all distracts from the fact that Fenris is just not a very ideological person and isn't actually motivated by ideological ideals. Which is what makes him a sensible and reasonable and pragmatic person (unlike Anders who is 100% fuelled by outrage against injustice in the face of every practical impossibility to his plans, and is thus insane (i say this affectionately, please keep your Anders hate/salt off my post)).

There's just a very practical reason that Fenris is so angry in Act 1 and I think it's that his anger is one of a very few things that's keeping him from going back to his abuser. Like, Danarius has gone out of his way to make as sure as possible that Fenris's time as a man free is as miserable and uncomfortable as being his slave, if not more. When you meet Fenris, he's being chased across the filthy backwaters of Southern Thedas by bounty hunters, hounded and paranoid and unsafe at every turn, without access to adequate food or housing or medical care, incredibly lonely and entirely without allies (and who would want to ally with him, when it comes with the strife of becoming a target of those bounty hunters too??). He is living a miserable grimy existence, and he knows that the easiest way to make it stop is to give in. To go back to Danarius - let Danarius be the solution to the problem that Danarius created in the first place, entirely with the intention of bringing Fenris back under his control. And the only thing stopping Fenris from doing that is him reminding himself at every inconvinient moment that he's furious with Danarius and the guy made his life hell and deserves to die miserably. And you think so too, right, Hawke?! Tell him you think so too!

So that anger is important, but the things that Fenris said in it also can't really be taken as a literal understanding of his thought process or his actual desires imho. It's just pretty obvious by the time you reach acts 2 and 3, when Fenris has far more in the way of resources and allies and security, that all his conviction and outrage in act 1 about how he'd go and hunt down Danarius and kill the man himself was an extremely empty bit of hot air. His grand plan for dealing with Danarius in act 3 is 'hope that guy has moved on and forgotten about me so I can meet my sister in peace'. Frankly, he doesn't want to kill Danarius - doesn't want to have to. Much in the same way he didn't want to have to kill Hadriana. He doesn't give a shit about revenge or whether or not they deserve it for their magical crimes. It's just that none of these fuckers will leave him the fuck alone to move on with his life.

[lovetei]

Okay so, someone headcanon that Lucifer interact with Cerberus very seriously like no baby talk or any normal petowners behaviour…? This is actually kinda canon now? In the recent Lucifer’s card. He be trying to get his lepus doing smth by acting like they’re business partners and the lepus keeps electrocuting him in the progress lol.

And just imagine MC being the lovely troublemaker they are keep sneaking in the underground tomb to see Cerberus to give him belly rubs, snacks and all of the things Lucifer didn’t do because MC feels bad cuz Cerberus can’t experience all the “good boys stuff” he deserves

Then one day, Cerberus just break out and just running around the house to find MC cuz they forgot to give Cerberus his daily without Lucifer knowing snacks, and daily cuddle too! What a crime. How would the bros react to that?

I was surprised Fluff and crack dominated the poll I created last post 😭

But this cute as hell.

I'm back on my long post era :b

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

MC who thinks Cerberus is just a giant puppy that deserves love cause he's a good boy

Warnings: Grammar errors, spelling errors, long post, Mentions of starving, Mentions of eye bags, Mentions of some real threats

Versions: Demon brothers, Side Characters

Links: Masterlist

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

LUCIFER:

He's a very serious pet owner

He doesn't punish his pet though, no fasting or whips just some soft scolding and lecturing

On the other hand, there's you who as a pet fever, always hyperventilating when you see Cerberus

He figured that you might turn his stoic and monstrous three headed dog into some giant puppy

So he made sure that he adds one more barrier, specifically preventing you from entering the tomb

But guess what? You're the shit.

Ain't no barrier gonna stop you.

So you sneak out late at night while struggling to hold all the large sized snacks you starved yourself to get your hands on just make Cerberus feel like the good boy he is.

Of course, Lucifer noticed this but he's not really sure and he does not want to confront you about this.

Like, what if you're not actually going to the tomb to pet and give Cerberus belly rubs? He'll look like a fool.

But it just kept getting worse.

The eyebags around your eyes

And how Cerberus gets more and more whiney

What the fuck is on about you two

So as a punishment, he decided to give you a break (Wow)

You're not allowed to leave your room until the dark circles under your eyes disappear.

And to his surprise, and prediction, Cerberus managed to break out of the magic he applied on the tomb that prevents him fron going out without his permission

He's both disspointed and proud.

Disspointed because his dog is disobeying and proud because his dog is actually really strong.

And as to his guesses, he ran up straight to the HOL and broke the door open.

And just like in those movies

You guys met halfway and life dramatically cried out as if Lucifer prevented two lovers from meeting each other.

He's just standing on the background like :l

Cause he expected this much.

MAMMON:

He liked the dog don't get him wrong

It's just that, he's not as crazy as you are about them

Plus that three headed tree pisser tried to kill him multiple times

And he's NOT happy about it

It's not like he can get any time to bond with the dog too since Lucifer is keeping a tight leash on him both literally and figuratively.

That might stop him

But not you

As your first man, he already know you're up to something the moment he saw you, through his crows, carrying large sizes of food, now human food, dog food.

He also knows that you're someone who don't actually want someone to know about this little secret of yours

So he just kept quite and stood at the bay

Watching you sneak around the house, trying to get to the tomb by yourself

Who knows? Something might go wrong and he needs to be by your side to save you as your babysitter and as your first man.

He started getting worried as soon as he saw those eye bags though

So he admitted that he knows what you're up to and suggested that you stop

You got mad

Of course

He knew it

He snitched on you by the way

He didn't straight up told Lucifer that you're going out to meet Cerberus

He just pointed out that you have like the worse eye bags ever and subtly said that you might be on some late night rendezvous.

He's glad that Lucifer gave you that time out.

He's sorry for snitching on you too but your health comes first before some belly rubs and dog treats.

When he heard the door of HOL crashing down though

He knew damn well who it was

He actually opened (broke) the door for you.

LEVIATHAN:

He's not that much of a dog person

More on reptiles and amphibians

But he understands why you're all crazy about dogs

I mean it's a common thing among humans right?

He's pretty sure Lucifer won't let you near Cerberus though since all about the string, guard dogs type while you're all down for cutesy belly rubs and treats.

Then one night, when he's about to get water after playing video games all night he saw you

Sneaking out

And he thought "What if MC actually have a hidden identity like in those anime?! That would be so cool!"

And so he followed you

And saw Mammon following you too

Mammon explained what's happening to him.

He's actually surprised you would go this far.

He started following you every night too of course

Even though he knows that you can knock out Cerberus with a single hit if you're actually serious

He even started watching anime about dogs and reading managas about them too then recommending them to you

He just loves the expression you make when you're so excited and your heart is melting because of the cute illustrations.

Wait

Is Mammon snitching?! On you?!

He's surprised cause, what the fuck, he's actually the last person he thought will snitch on you

It's understandable though, 'cause he's actually near on doing the same.

He's just glad that you got mad on Mammon instead of him

So you got your rest and you're not mad at him, it's a win win for him.

He also got to record the whole dramatic reunion between you and Cerberus.

SATAN:

He's a cat person

He can barely care

About Lucifer and his pet

But if it's you then... Maybe he can bare with it.

He just loves how you look at dogs like how he looks at cats.

You guys really are soul mates.

But why would you starve yourself for dog foods..?

He got a little mad because of it but he knows you just love Cerberus so much

And that you want to treat him like the good puppy he is because the so good Lucifer FAILED to do so.

He knows you're sneaking in and out of HOL to go in the tomb and meet Cerberus

He applied a few spells that made you seem more approachable to animals and be more sneaky without you knowing too.

But his guts are just telling him to close this book and follow you.

And so he did.

And he saw not one,

But two of his brothers trying to act sneaky and following you down to the tomb you knowing

He didn't expect this to be honest

He thought Mammon would be too dumb to find out and Levi will be watching too many animes and play too many games to even notice.

But he guess he underestimated their feelings for you

That doesn't mean his is in any way less than them though

That's why he's here

Although he knows that Lucifer would find out sooner or later

He didn't expect Mammon to be dropping hints when you're his absolute partner in crimes

What a traitor

He would've killed him and fed him to his crows if he did that to him.

But he knows that Mammon is just as worried as he is

Plus he knows to himself that he will be telling you to Lucifer if this gets any worse.

So he is really no better than Mammon

Putting you on some sort of time out and forcing you to rest is a good way of punishment, he expected it, Lucifer spoiling you.

But Cerberus barging in the HOL is not something he thought would happen.

He knows how disciplined Cerberus is, he's Lucifer's pet after all.

He also thought the dramatic meeting was cute and he chuckled a bit.

ASMODEUS:

Oh... Dogs?

He doesn't like stray fur on his clothes though...

But he guess he can understand you.

Cerberus is indeed one big, fluffy dog after all.

Despite being locked down inside the tomb

Cerberus is actually squeaky clean and always smells good.

He's one of the dogs Asmo will be okay being close to.

He can understand you buying him treats and sneak one or a couple of times

But sneaking out in the middle of the night just to give him treats and belly rubs?

Even starving yourself to buy him food is outrageous

You could've asked him for help, he has all these money from modeling just rotting away

Waiting to get spend on some shoes and pearls.

Like Mammon, he dropped subtle hints, commenting on your eye bags but Lucifer seems to not take him seriously as he thinks that Asmo points out even the slightest difference.

He's dissapointed, he means, it's your health on the line here!

So he resorted into confronting you

He thought that maybe following you to your late night sneak outs and pretending to catch you will work

He didn't expect Mammon, Levi and Satan following you too though

He's looking at them all shock cause what the fuck?

And then when he's about to scream Satan just pulled him and covered his mouth with his hand.

When you're about to leave though, he tried to break free from Satan's grasp and proceed with his plans but instead earned shushes from everyone.

Out of all people

He didn't expect Mammon to snitch on you

He actually thought that Cerberus snitching on you is higher than Mammon telling you on.

But he's glad to hear that you're under house arrest and is prohibited from tiring yourself

You really need this rest, honey.

He's one of the people that took care of you that day, actually.

He painted your nairs and gave you a spa day inside the bathroom.

And then he heard a loud crash

He just rolled his eyes and stopped fanning your wet finger nails and just let you run out of the room

He must confess he thinks the reunion is dramatic but it was cute

All the heads of Cerberus whining and crying

But your nails dear!

BEELZEBUB:

Beel loves Cerberus too!

It's just sad that Lucifer won't leg him take care of him as much as he wants to

Cerberus' main job is to protect the tomb where their grimoires are located at so he understands why.

Lucifer doesn't want Cerberus to end up all cutesy greeting each 'visitor' that enters the tomb like he's friends with them

He want Cerberus to not even think twice and attack anyone who would enter the tomb except Lucifer himself.

But aside Lucifer, Beel is the second most close to Cerberus as he's the one that take him to walks most of the time

And when he found out that you like dogs too

Specifically Cerberus

He looked at you with obvious adoration in his eyes

Cause, finally, someone can get him

He wants to treat Cerberus like a good boy too almost just as much as you but Lucifer won't let him

But you have a plan?!

Wait, why are you starving yourself..?

That's bad...

If you just want to buy Cerberus dog food and treats you can use his money

But why do you insist that you want to buy his food yourself?

By what money? The money you got from starving yourself?

He knows he can't stop you though

So he just cooked extra portions when he's on duty and insisted that you share foods with him

So, problem number one solved

But now there's another problem

And it's you sneaking out late at night just to feed Cerberus!

Look at yourself MC!

You barely get any sleep!

He actually decided to start feeding Cerberus himself after he saw the dark circles under your eyes

But after he saw Mammon, Levi, Satan and Asmo hiding behind a big rock he already knows he's late and that you're in the tomb again

When Asmo tried to go out and confront you though

His heart dropped

Cause "What if MC thought were stalkers?!" "MC will think we're controlling!"

Though, Mammon snitching on you is something he expected

People might think that he'll die loyal and never snitch on you but he knows better than that

He knows that Mammon will put your health above everything and would snitch if needed

For him, house arrest is a light and well thought punishment

He doesn't know why you need to receive it though

He means, you did nothing wrong, you just feed and play with the dog

He thinks the dramatic meet up is cute too!

He's standing on the background looking like ^^

BELPHEGOR:

He likes Cerberus

He has fluffy fur and would carry him when their together

He's unbelievably large too so he's like a giant, moving bed for Belphie

And he understand why you would go crazy over Cerberus

He is indeed one of a kind considering how he has three heads

But he can't understand why you would go through such lengths just to play with the dog

Don't get him wrong, he knows that you like Cerberus and sees him as a giant puppy

But Cerberus guards their grimoire and that grimoire is very important to them

So he's also one of the people that actually prevents you from going in the tomb to play with the hell hound

Lucifer trained them to be a strict guard dog for a reason

And he knows it and it's for his own good too

Though, he knows his explanations won't stop you considering how you're starving yourself to buy him dog food and toys

And even wake up late at night just to sneak out and give it to Cerberus

He wants to protect you of course

Cerberus is still a hell hound that's above thrice your size

So he did the unthinkable and stayed up late

Wanting to spy on you

He saw you sneaking your way down the hallway and so he decided to follow you

And then he saw them

Not Cerberus

But Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and even Beel spying on you too

He guess he underestimated them

He just joined them behind the rock though and rested on Beel's shoulder

He's more assured now since his brothers are watching over you too

But when he heard the sudden rustle made by Asmo trying to struggle to confront you

His eyes shot open and helped Satan on strangling him down

Hell, he almost turned to his demon form

You falling ill is something he's scared of, but you getting mad at him is another

And both are as bad as the other

Actually, the way he glares at Asmo as Satan covers his mouth is terrifying

He might as well just point a knife at his neck at this point

And then the next morning what woke him up is not Lucifer

But the door of their house falling down and creating a loud thud

And is followed by loud howls and whines he knows too well

He's wide awake now and is staring at the two of you, dramatically hugging each other as if Lucifer kept you away from each other for years

Wait

What

Mammon snitched on you?!

Oh... So you've been on an house arrest since earlier this morning and not even a day passed and Cerberus is already running after you?

Wow

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

[mathanlin]

Hero AU where school counselor!Phil has to deal with… interesting students.

Namely, the three boys he sees constantly bickering in the hallways.

And slamming cars into each other on the news.

Ridiculously, none of them know who the others are.

But Phil notices the *moment* new young vigilantes start popping up. The trio’s dropping grades, spotty attendance, and injuries only confirm it.

Or, y’know. Tommy mumbling, “What would you do if you were a hero?”

Phil helps in the least obvious ways he can.

Modifying their grades to be a bit less suspicious, leaving out ice packs by his office door (easy to steal), writing late passes without a bit of resistance.

But he can only be so subtle.

“So, Red.”

Tommy’s head jerks up. 

Phil almost laughs. “You’ve heard of him, huh? I figure he’s your favorite.”

Tommy shifts awkwardly in his chair — readjusting the wound Phil knows lies beneath his sweater. “Better than the fuckin’ Blade.”

Techno. Honors student. Flawless GPA. Volunteer. And vigilante.

Far closer to a villain.

“If only I could give the Blade a lecture,” Phil says, unable to stop a chuckle, and barely managing to not say, *You two have to stop beating the shit out of each other.*

Eventually, Phil gives up on subtlety & calls them all down to his office.

“So. I heard you’ve been getting into fights.”

Wilbur, drama kid — or Siren, smooth-tongued — is the first to act, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, sir?”

Then Techno. “Mr. Watson, I would *never.*”

“Then what’s that?”

Phil nods to the bruise beneath Techno’s turtleneck — from a hit Siren landed. Then, to Wilbur’s knuckles, ever so slightly battered.

And neither seem to notice a thing. 

Phil pinches his brow, sighing.

“Alright. Then Tommy. Care to explain the state of your shoes?” (Burnt, melted from running through rubble the Blade had created.)

*There* it is. Techno frowns, leaning back to peek — and Tommy quickly tucks his feet beneath the chair.

“Nothing.”

“Where were you all last night?”

Every single kid tenses. 

And starts rambling out excuses.

“I was— studying, of course—”

“Well, *I* was trying to get ice cream, and that bitch the Blade showed up—”

“Bitch?” Techno cries before catching himself. “I think you mean *Red* and *Siren*—”

“What the fuck?” Wilbur splutters. “Siren was trying to calm those two fuckers down—”

“Boys,” Phil says. “Look. All three of those heroes would be better *together,* right? Not fighting, not hurting each other?”

“Maybe,” Tommy finally mumbles, toeing at the floor, “but… why are we talking about heroes?”

Phil tips back in his chair, face in hands.

“Come on. Someone figure it out.”

Silence. 

Phil groans. “Wilbur, you quit band two months ago. Techno, Tommy, who showed up two months ago?”

More silence.

“Uhh… I don’t know.”

“Techno,” Phil says, almost desperate. “You tutor Tommy, right? What happens after he disappears from your lessons?”

“I… go home,” Techno lies. 

Phil lets out an exasperated sigh. “No, you go where *he* goes. And where’s that?”

Tommy’s eyes start to narrow.

“You like Greek shit. Like… the Blade,” he says quietly, staring at Techno. Then, at Wilbur. “And *you’re* a pretentious bastard. Like *Siren.*”

Phil raises an eyebrow, fighting a smile.

“And you’re a little shit,” Wilbur snaps, then— pales. “Like… Red?”

“*There* we go,” Phil says, letting out a sigh of relief. “Now, I have a plan. If you three work together, I truly believe that—”

It’s a shame Phil’s office is so tiny.

There’s no room for three vigilantes to sufficiently beat the shit out of each other.

.

.

.

Just the idea of the three of them curled up at Phil’s, working on homework before heading off to fight crime (together, for once). 

Phil being their “man in the chair” (even if he directs them to safer areas, too worried for anything more).

And of course, the best (worst?) part of being a school counselor — the actual *counseling.*

Except it’s not about what classes to take, or bullies to avoid.

It’s holding Wilbur as he sobs after killing his first villain to protect his brothers. (Because that’s what they are, now). 

It’s comforting Techno as he fails his first class, too busy with heroics to focus or study. 

It’s reassuring Tommy when his brothers get hurt, always ready to defend their youngest.

And it’s crying like a father when they graduate.

It’s *loving* them like a father, his home always open to them, filled with medical supplies and bedrooms for each kid, newpaper clippings pinned proudly on the fridge.

There’s a reason the city’s strongest trio of vigilantes always protect one specific man.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Jan behind the cut; the Gotham Kid. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kid actually jams the warehouse doors with his TTK, then steps forward into the street. Just–there’s other exits out of the building, obviously. He wouldn’t trap them all in there. 

He just needs to be sure no one’s gonna freak out and fuck up into following him right now, is all.

Kid does find some clay. It’s smeared across the bars of a grate he passes. It’s hard to tell if it’s from Clayface dragging his injured body away into the sewers to hide or just . . . blood splatter, technically. 

Blood splatter, or . . .

Kid doesn’t feel anyone or anything Clayface’s size moving anywhere nearby, but his TTK is still acting up, so maybe . . . maybe he’s just missing him–like, not picking up on him–or maybe Clayface is just already holed up and hidden away somewhere, or . . . 

Or maybe Kid’s just fucking deluding himself. 

Kid trembles, just once, and then fists his hands and locks his TTK around his muscles, and makes himself cross the street. 

No sign of Clayface, aside from the clay on the sewer grate. No blood or body parts anywhere immediately visible or TTK-able. No bodies anywhere, at least not as far as Kid can see or feel. His TTK keeps flickering unreliably, which is–it doesn’t work great against fire or temperature or concussive force and literally all of that stuff happens in explosions and all at once, so . . . probably that’s why it’s kinda fucked-up right now, yeah. He thinks, anyway. 

The street smells like burnt rubber and motor oil and a little bit like almonds, which Clark’s memories say is a plastic explosives thing. They also provide him with a list of search pattern options to use on search-and-rescue missions, which is more, like–immediately helpful, at least in theory. 

Sector search’ll be best, probably, at least right now. He’s not going aerial, obviously, and expanding square is too– 

Something moves. Kid’s TTK is still flickering in and out and only just catches it, but–something definitely just moved. 

He doesn’t run straight towards it, whatever it is. He probably would’ve, before he figured out he was remembering Superman’s memories and lived six months in the worst parts of Gotham, but he knows better now. Rushing straight towards the problem only solves the problem in very specific situations, and “standing in the middle of a blown-up street in Crime Alley while trying to do search-and-rescue without looking like you either have superpowers or know how to do search-and-rescue” is not one of those situations. Not even remotely. 

Kid adjusts his search pattern carefully to work his way towards that hitched little flash of movement and concentrates on getting his TTK back under control enough to feel what’s ahead. Visually, he sees a couple of cars that got blown off the street crashed sideways across the mouth of a skinny alleyway. Tactilely, he feels . . . 

There’s a body in the alley behind the cars, yeah. Physically male, tall and broad and muscular; prone on its back, head lolled to one side and breathing slow and steady and careful, one arm clutched tight to its side. 

It’s Pete, and he’s alive. Injured, definitely, but–but alive. 

So that’s at least one person Kid maybe hasn’t gotten killed, depending on just how injured Pete actually is. 

Kid swallows rough and hard; clenches his fists for a moment and stiffens his shoulders; squares up like he’s trying to scare someone off. Makes himself big, like he used to try to when he was brand-new and in Metropolis and desperate for the kind of attention he didn’t know was dangerous. 

Then he just–makes as much tension as he can go out of himself and tries to just–calm himself, and center himself, and . . . 

Clark could do that a lot better than he can, no matter what he remembers about how to do it, but it’s . . . something, Kid guesses. Just–a little better, anyway. 

It’s . . . a start, yeah. 

He clambers over the cars because he’s not stupid enough to fly–hasn’t flown once since leaving Metropolis, in fact, not for anything and especially not in Gotham–and especially he’s not stupid enough to fly when he doesn’t know who might be sneaking around. The cops aren’t gonna show up for at least a couple hours, assuming they even bother showing up at all, but that doesn’t mean Crime Alley’s empty right now. If nothing else, no matter what happened to Clayface, Killer Croc is still supposed to be out here somewhere. 

Or there could always be a Bat. 

Their response times are a hell of a lot better than the cops’, around here.

[bucky-bucket-barnes]

more! headcanons! please!

bucky getting used to modern crap headcanon

considering Bucky is over 100 years old, your boyfriend is more with the times than people give him credit for

socially he's quite progressive, but a lot of other things, he tends to be fuzzy on

food for starters

that man acts like he is scared of any other seasonings besides salt and pepper

"doll, you barely touched your dinner, are you upset?" / "i already told you im not eating boiled chicken :)" / "well now i'm upset :')"

the first time you took him to mcdonalds, you thought he was going to black out

"why does the soDA HURT" / "told you not to order the sprite" / "it's sprite, it's not supposed to feel like i'm drinking engine fuel"

also, tech. he was also very bad at tech

"yeah, so i have my bluetooth-" / "you have a what?" / ". . .bluetooth headphones" / "are you. . . do we need to go to a hospital?" / "bucky what are you talking about" / "your tooth is blue and you're talking to me like i'm the crazy one" / "did you miss the headphones part"

also the dishwasher for some reason?

you thought it was sweet that he always insisted on washing the dishes until you realized he had an ulterior motive

it was when you caught him rewashing the plates you tossed in the washer that you said something

"buck, i already washed those :)" / "i knew this day would come :'|" / "what?" / "it's the dishwasher" / "is there something wrong with it?" / "i just don't get it" / "explain" / "people throw anything in these things, i'm not cleaning my dishes in that" / "baby, it's safe-" / "want to know what else is dishwasher safe? dildos! i don't want sex water on my pasta- stop laughing i'm being serious."

okay, most of the time it led to funny situations so it was fine

like that one week where bucky would end every text with a picture of a heart until you explained to him what emojis were

or that other time he tried to secretly order you flowers while on a mission using his phone

bucky accidentally ordered a dozen bouquets of roses instead of twelve dozen roses

he tried to play it off like it was on purpose, but you knew by his confused look when the third bouquet showed up that he had fucked up

the best, though, was when peter showed him twitter

he was as fascinated as he was confused

"honey, do you think i'm babygirl?" / (choking on water noises) / "well, stevesnipple on twitter said sometimes a grown man is babygirl. am i?" / ". . .yeah, honey" / "fuckin' knew it, sam's gonna be so jealous"

or that time he kept using the word stan wrong

"i stan you ;)" / "im begging you to stop saying words you don't know how to use, that is the cringiest thing you have ever said" / "is being a super fan of my girlfriend a crime now? blocked and canceled" / "omG"

or that time he kept using tea in inappropriate situations

"and after that, i lost my arm :(" / "babe, i'm so sorry-" / "and that's the tea :,("

okay, so a lot of shit confused him, but he didn't mind

he thought it was a great excuse to ask you for help without sounding needy so you two could just hang out <3

[dellalyra]

𝙔𝙫𝙚𝙨 𝙎𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩 𝙇𝙖𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩 - 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘍𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴

ɢᴏᴊᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

A/N: submission request from my dearest darling @soraya-daydreams, coming in clutch with the cute ideas.

CW: like one suggestive sentence, almost crack, hints that pixie loves her fashion

“Y/N!” A scream (clearly Nobara) echoed down the corridor of the school as you organised some books in the Jujutsu High library.

“Y/N!” Yuuji, this time.

“Mom!” Unless Akio had miraculously learned how to speak at 6 months old then that was Megumi.

Three figures skidded around the corner, through the library door and landed in a heap of limbs and black, brown and pink hair. You just raised your eyebrows.

“I’ve heard walking slowly causes less injuries, but hey, what do I know?” You smirk, as the kids untangle themselves.

Nobara is clutching a bundle of fabric in her hands, creamy white and brown - clearly something stained.

“Y/N, this is a DEFCON level one emergency - we screwed up like, majorly.” Nobara uttered, hand on her hip.

“You screwed up majorly, Itadori and I were just sitting there.” Megumi pointed out.

“But ‘Gumi! We were witnesses, that makes us like - accessories to murder!” Yuuji scrambles.

Your heart skipped hearing Yuuji call your son ‘Gumi’, something he only let you and Satoru and Tsumiki call him beforehand, you also don’t miss the blush on his pale cheeks - reinforcing your idea that the feelings these two had for each other were not simply platonic.

Wait -

Did Yuuji say murder?!

“Okay, who’s dead? Where’s the body? Have any of you touched anything at the scene? Megumi I need you to -” you immediately went into practical mode and all of those true crime documentaries and podcasts come flooding back.

“Jesus, mom, no - not actual murder. Yuuji is just exaggerating.” Megumi says, eyes rolling.

“I really fuck with the ‘act now, questions later’ vibe though, Y/N. Queen behaviour.” Nobara says, throwing a peace sign with the unoccupied hand.

“We were just having coffee! Well, Megumi and Nobara were having coffee - I was having orange juice.” Yuuji adds.

“Guys. What’s broken or who’s injured?” You say, mom voice appearing.

“Um… so! I was drinking my coffee, and Ijichi left something on the table, because he’s dumb!” Nobara starts frantically explaining.

“No - ah ah, we love Ijichi, this school wouldn’t function without Ijichi. Don’t listen to your Sensei.” You butt in because there will be no Ijichi slander in your presence.

“Sorry, Y/N. Anyway! I was drinking my coffee! The coffee got knocked over and spilled! It spilled onto this!” She says, holding up the ruined white fabric in her arms, as both boys grimaced.

You gasp.

“Oh, fuck.” You whisper.

“That’s what I said!” Yuuji interjects.

“Shit.” You say again, examining the fabric in your hands

“That’s what I said.” Megumi groans.

“Motherfucker.” You toss your head back.

“That’s what I said!” Nobara nods.

“Okay. Let’s fix this. Eh… Megumi! Go to see Ijichi - ask him for washing detergent - he lives in the staff accommodation, so he can get us some. Nobara, I need you to boil the kettle and get some boiling water and cloths, okay? Yuuji, do you have vinegar in the kitchen? Because we need that.” You list off, desperately trying to remember what gets rid of coffee stains.

Megumi nods and leaves, Nobara rushes from the room and Yuuji salutes and darts to the kitchen.

This has to work.

Because the coffee flavoured thing in your hands is your husbands tailored white silk Yves Saint Laurent dress shirt, which he adores.

Which he also bought for ¥250,000.

After a moment the three kids come back with the required equipment and you combine all three and dunk the shirt into the mixture to soak for 15 minutes.

As the timer beeped on your phone, you took out the shirt and quickly realised it was absolutely no better.

You looked at the kids.

Then it all went to shit.

“Princess! Are you being a dork and organising books for fun again? Yaknow if you’re bored you can always come into my office and get on your kn-” The boisterous voice of your love echoes as the man himself rounds the corner and finds the kids and you tussling by the table. In a flash, you all turn to him - wide smiles.

He quirks his eyebrows.

“Princess, I saw you an hour ago and I’m pretty sure that a baby bump doesn’t grow that fast in an hour, and thanks to modern contraception and a 6 month old son I’m guessing you’re not pregnant.” He smirks, knowing you’re hiding something, probably covering for the kids.

Before you can react he’s swooped you over his shoulder as the kids all grab your ankles and you become a tug of war between two warring factions.

Satoru eventually wins by teleporting you both to the other side of the desk and sticking his tongue out at the teenagers and shoving his hands under your sweater and taking out the offending lump.

He studies the fabric for a minute, as four people hold their breath.

That’s when he burst out in hysterical laughter.

“Baby, were you covering for these delinquents?” He asks, hand on your cheek.

“Covering?! No! They were helping me! I spilled the coffee!” You say, stuttering.

“No you didn’t princess, you drink mochas, and this is just coffee.” He says, still laughing and you curse how well he knows you.

“I don’t drink coffee!” Itadori adds.

“You don’t need the fucking caffeine.” Megumi nods.

“Well don’t leave your silk designer shirts on the table -” Nobara starts and they’re all speaking at once.

Satoru just smiles and opens his phone, tapping it a few times and then he spins the phone around, showing it to the kids.

“I just bought 5 more of the same shirt. I don’t give a damn about the shirt, seeing you three running around trying to fix it was a years worth of entertainment for me. Truly - high quality comedy.” He laughs, tossing the shirt into the trash near him.

It’s moments like these the ‘Gojo heir’ in him shines through.

“Say sorry to your mom for worrying her.” He says, winking at them all.

“Sorry, mom.” Megumi shrugs.

“I’m sorry, mom!” Yuuji adds.

“Yeah, sorry mom.” Nobara sulks.

“I DON’T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO ANY OF YOU!”

[yournightmary]

Gryffindor!Ellie HCs

content warning:: fem!reader, Hogwarts!AU, reader wears a dress, nothing else I think

AN:: Is this a very specific thing that no one asked for? yes. Will I still write this? also yes. Replaying Hogwarts Legacy for the 3rd time, sorry.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ I couldn’t figure out what house she would be in but I think it would be gryffindor? At least that’s the one that makes the most sense to me.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ For anyone that isn’t really into Harry Potter, later years are set in the mid/late 90s… which makes me want to write 90s!Ellie oh my fucking god.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who either has a pet rat or an ugly cat. I’m leaning towards the rat though. It’s definitely one of those albino rats with red eyes, named something like ‘Crouton’.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who constantly sneaks off into the Forbidden Forest, way too often for her own safety. She’s just so mysterious and cool. At least that’s what she thinks.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who is infamous for her beaten up sneakers. They’re definitely taped up in some places and she doodles on them whenever she’s bored. Which is most of the time.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who wears the ugliest, scratchiest, grandpa-looking flannel shirts and sweaters. Some people say that she stole them from Filch’s closet.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who is a menace to everyone the professors. Not paying attention during class but they can’t even do anything because somehow she knows all the answers/brews potions perfectly/knows how to cast spells. Girlie is naturally smart and talented.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who wanted to play quidditch but flying a broom is the only thing she’s bad at. Probably fell off of it during tryouts and got humiliated:(

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who met you while sneaking into the restricted section in the library. She was looking for a dark spellbook to get revenge on someone while you just wanted to learn more about divination.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who made you her partner in crime, whether you wanted it or not. Constantly asking you to steal something for her or distract someone while she does whatever she does.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who ran out of potions class when she smelled your perfume in the amortentia. A few people have done that, so no one really paid attention. You on the other hand have smelled mint, cigarette smoke and cookies. The ones that Ellie loves… funny, right?

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Elllie who asked you to the Yule Ball (let’s just pretend it happens every year, without a tournament) like a day before, under the impression that no one else wanted to go with you. Rightfully, you got pissed (and a little sad that she thought no one wanted you) and declined not-so-politely.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who you’ve found crying in one of the more secluded hallways late into the night of the ball. After you declined she asked some random guy just so she wouldn’t be without a date, he turned out to be a total dick and the whole experience was shit.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who cried even more when she saw you in your beautiful dress, which looked way too similar to not be matching with the suit of some guy she saw earlier. A guy who asked you a full week before Ellie did, and you agreed because you thought she wouldn’t ask you.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who invited you to dance once a slow song came on, even though you could barely hear it over the thick walls of the castle. Cried in your arms and acted like she didn’t after.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who always sneaks you into the gryffindor common room (if you’re not in the same house).

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who stole fire whiskey from some shop in Hogsmeade and got you both drunk. Somehow convinced you that taking a stroll around the castle in the middle of the night is an excellent idea. You got a ton of bruises from bumping into everything while she almost fell off of the Grand Staircase. 3 week detention.

⇢ ˗ˏˋ gryffindor!Ellie who loves to duel with you. Always says she’ll go easy on you but struggles the whole time and ends up getting her ass beat.

My brain is fried and I hate what I wrote.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

idk if this is something you would answer but how do you unlearn shame of being horny 😵‍💫

hi anon,

this is a complex question. unlearning shame of any kind can take a long time to sort out, and will be driven more by internal work you do to challenge and shift your own thinking than by anything else.

a good place to start may be by doing some reflection as to what you find shameful about being horny in the first place and working back from there to recognize sexuality and desire as morally neutral things.

for instance, I get a fair number of people asking if it's okay to think about real people that they know when they're horny, or masturbate to fantasies about those people. they feel a lot of shame about this, as if they're causing harm to these people by imagining them in sexual scenarios. but making up funny little scenarios in your head to nut to is a harmless act that only you will ever know about. it's not like whipping out your dick (gender neutral) and masturbating at strangers on public transit; what you do to get off in your private time only impacts you.

a problem would only arise if you decided to start treating your real, actual acquaintance, not the imaginary sexy version of them, differently, for instance by making untoward comments about their body, treating them as if they are obligated to be interested in spending time together or having sex with you, or, god forbid, telling them in detail about your sexual fantasies. now you're doing sexual harassment, which is inappropriate because of the hurt and discomfort is causes the recipient. being horny isn't the problem here, it's how you're treating another person.

people also feel a lot of shame around many other types of fantasies, especially if they involve dynamics that are off-limits or illegal in real life. often, the worry seems to be that being aroused by these imagined scenarios is akin to expressing support for these things to happen in real life.

listen: sexual fantasies about rape are some of the most commonly reported among cis women, and that's not because tons and tons of cis women secretly think that rape is a cool thing that should happen more. the people playing Baldur's Gate 3 and fucking Halsin while he's wildshaped into a bear aren't all chomping at the bit to commit a sex crime against a real animal. noticing that "teenage" characters on TV played by actors in their 20s and 30s are hot does not make anyone a pedophile. fiction is a safe realm to explore and enjoy things that we would never in a million years want to see happen in real life. I love Batman, but I can assure you I would not be a happy camper if a real-life billionaire started running around doing vigilantism in a fursuit while endangering a gaggle of teenage sidekicks.

and if you want to explore some of the stuff you're into in real life, awesome! great! there are ways to go about negotiating a lot of different kinks safely and responsibly (although probably not the bear thing, sorry about that). the world is full of people who want the experience of being stalked, beat up, kidnapped, and sexually assaulted - all mediated through pre-negotiated arrangements with people that they have chosen to enact these fantasies with them. so what is there to be ashamed of in that situation? sure, the situation you're engaging in might sound scary without proper context, but so do a lot of things. a stranger cutting open my skin, very likely causing bleeding, and leaving me with a mark that I'll have for the rest of my life sounds scary, and it definitely would be if it wasn't a situation that I agreed to! but that's also what getting a tattoo is, and that's an experience that I love so much that I pay for the pleasure. nothing to feel bad about there as long as you're playing safely!

listen: there's nothing wrong with being horny. the human sex drive is a completely natural one born from biological need that makes getting off feel good. there's no more sense in feeling shame about being horny than there is in feeling shame about being hungry or needing rest, although people do of course manage to feel bad about those as well. regardless of what causes it, when you feel the shame well up you have to push back on it and ask yourself who actually directly benefits from you feeling badly about yourself in that moment, and who is actually tangibly hurt by the actions you're shaming. and if the answer is "no one," move it along!

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Tw: hate crimes, transphobia, pretty traumatic things Yves went through in his youth, body modification, violence, gore

Yves had breast augmentations before.

He had never truly identified himself as a woman, but he liked how certain dresses would look on him if he was well-endowed up top. He felt pretty and content with how he looked in front of the mirror after years of severe self-hatred.

It allowed him to bring back a bit more cash, but this wasn't his main motive to go under the knife. In fact, this observation disgusted him. Yves purely wanted a larger chest because it personally made him happy in his bleak bubble.

Though, it wasn't worth the sudden uptick of harassment and maltreatment from others around him. Men would predictably attack him every time he blinked, act entitled towards his body, and fucked him over in more ways than he could count. As if there was a massive bullseye target was painted onto him after he graduated from no bra to a C cup.

But what surprised him was that the women degraded him much worse than the men. They used to be indifferent to him at best, silently disgusted at him for being effeminate at worst. But as soon as he showed up with a feature that brought him closer to passing as a Cis woman, Yves lost almost all of their neutrality. Sometimes, they would set him up to be harmed by other men. Their hatred for Yves wouldn't be discrete anymore, they would call him hurtful names and slurs, accusing him of being a depraved sexual predator, even get into vicious physical fights with him, and end most nights with clumps of ripped hair and blood.

It was dangerous to reveal that he perceived himself as male while looking how he always desired to. So he lived a good chunk of his life under an identity that doesn't match how he felt inside. Yves had to train his vocal cords to sound feminine enough to not attract any more negative attention than he already had by existing somewhat authentically. He likes accessories that cover up his Adam's apple while flattering his form, Yves also likes styling his hair so that it takes the attention off his masculine features; covering his jaw and concealing his neck.

It was only when he caught himself in a particularly horrible altercation that his implants ruptured, spilling its silicone contents into his body and poisoning him slowly. But that wasn't as horrible as when he limped to the mirror right after merely escaping being beaten to death. He could ignore the wounds, bruises, and swelling, those can heal.

Yves was reduced to tears when he saw that he was ugly once more. His breasts were deformed and strange lumps started appearing elsewhere on his battered body. He couldn't afford to remedy it and neither was he mentally strong enough to handle the torment he was to face the following days. All his beautiful clothes are simply a reminder that he's a freak, an abomination of nature so atrocious, that the world tries everything in its power to kill despite Yves doing nothing except existing.

He swapped his stylish and gorgeous tops for baggy sweaters and turtlenecks. Anything above the shins was thrown out, likewise for clothing articles that revealed more than his face and hands. Gone, all of it must go. With a heavy heart and eyes puffy from incessantly crying, Yves burnt them all.

Yves was powerless back then. If the world didn't think that he deserved to wear it, then he simply had no right to. And he hated it, they made him feel like mere dirt no matter what he did. He couldn't do anything for himself without being unfairly punished for it.

He has moved on from that stage in life. He had matured and found peace within himself. Yves had fixed himself and he had learned how to let go. It's been a long time, the details are hazy to him now, and that is probably for the better.

But only if you knew what he went through, you would understand that he wasn't vacantly staring out of disapproval when you told him you wanted to have breast augmentation, just like he did when he was a fucked up young man. The long period of silence coupled with his empty emerald eyes unwaveringly trained onto yours wasn't due to judgment of your desire, but it was to manage whatever the fuck you dug back up he buried inside him by asking that one damned question.

After an uncomfortable pause, he would seemingly snap out of it and go ahead to tell you about all the risks that might come with it. In the end, he appears neutral, even supportive of the idea if he deems it beneficial to your self-esteem. All this while, you would never know about his own experience with it, Yves doesn't see the need to disclose it to you.

He had learned to let go of the past, making him see everything through an unbiased lens. You are not him, and you will never go through what he had to.

Yves makes sure of it.

[blue-grama]

The Sign finale probably should have disappointed me, but... didn't?

It's been a heck of a run lately with Thai BLs that haven't quite stuck the landing, and it's got me pondering why The Sign worked for me despite sometimes feeling like a storyboard for a longer, better show.

I don't think they pulled off the emotional payoff they needed, despite that last reunion scene being so pretty and well-acted, simply because too much happened offscreen, from Khem's recovery from a gunshot wound to the entire multlifetime Tharn/Chalothon dynamic getting resolved without us seeing any of it. But somehow I wasn't that mad about it? And ultimately I think it's because this show did so many things well and so many things I'd love to see more of that I'm just like, yep, I enjoyed that ride sirs, please show me something this gorgeous again. In that sense it's joining something like Manner of Death or Kinnporsche where it's like, plot holes? Yes. Bizarre tonal shifts? Absolutely. Occasionally insane writing choices? Uh-huh. Love it anyway? You betcha. So here's what really, really worked for me:

Premise

I am always going to be onboard with QL that isn't solely coming-of-age or coming out. I'm not against those stories, of course, but give me gay romance with adult characters who know themselves and are doing adult things. I'm also a partisan for romances with high external stakes, so the mixture of crime and reincarnation was catnip to me.

Do I care that none of this training makes any sense? No.

2. Setting

Listen. Is The Sign the reason I have a document on my laptop titled "Imaginary trip to Thailand without ever seeing a beach?" Not exactly. But it's also not not the reason.

I am being willingly manipulated by the Thai Tourism Authority.

Kidding, kidding, but I do love when my Thai shows feel Thai or my Korean shows feel Korean, etc etc. I want to be driven to Wikipedia to learn more! Half the fun of watching stuff from not your own country.

3. Chemistry

I think @biochemjess covered what was underwritten about the romance in The Sign. Billy and Babe carried it on their backs and it was hard to dislike their romance, even when the series skipped over key beats.

Any time the pink lighting came out, you were gonna be in for a good time.

4. The camerawork

I don't know enough about film to speak intelligently about this, but the camerawork and aesthetics of this show were just so lovely to watch. It was really doing a lot. @chaos0pikachu wrote about it better than I ever could.

LOVED THIS. LOVED IT. So good.

We had some really lovely storytelling and visual parallels, too, like the first episode and finale both having a big action warehouse scene, or the multiple times that Phaya and Tharn ended up overlooking the Mekong river.

5. It was always kinda off the rails

I know some people felt this show started out with a strong premise and didn't live up to it, but I gotta say, I didn't have that experience. It was always kinda a bonkers watch for me. There were long training montages, random bodies in the shallows, missing genitals, extended performance art, that comedy flashback to Khem and Thongthai's college years... I never knew what I was going to get each Saturday. And I kind of loved that? I'm into unhinged. I was comparing this in my head to Last Twilight, which did disappoint me in the end, and I think it's because Last Twilight was NOT always bonkers and DID set itself up to tell a straighforward story, then dropped the ideas it had been juggling in the last episode. The Sign always felt chaotic to me, so a chaotic ending was par for the course. This is where I'd compare it to KinnPorsche, which had the weirdest fucking ending, but like, okay??? Why not!

End result? I see the flaws, but I'm giving this show tender forehead kisses anyway. Here's hoping for more like it.

[litnerdwrites]

It's interesting how Nesta had to apologise for something she wasn't even in the wrong of doing while Rhys, who overreacted by threatening to kill her (for a mistake he made) and chasing her out of the city, did not have to. Especially, after it was canonically established by Feyre herself that he did not have the right to do that..

And for someone who claims to write about badass female mcs who crush patriarchy and choose the course of their own lives, shouldn't an apology scene for something in which a female's right to information on her own body was undermined be a fundamental part of the book?

I mean, she could add a bonus chapter about the characters in question fucking to make babies but had to keep the apology off-page? Weird.

The only somewhat sufferable part of the book was the scenes with the Valkyries and the smut (if you ignore the poor timing).

I don't know if it's my eldest daughter syndrome acting up but I feel strongly about this.

I agree completely. I won't deny that Nesta has some things to apologies for, but so does Rhysand, and Feyre and Mor. I'd even argue that the things the IC put her through negate the need for her to apologies, or at least makes it a little less urgent/important than the apologies she's owed. This is mostly due to the fact that Nesta's so-called crimes amount to a bad attitude (most on page examples of which are pretty understandable to me), and issues she had with Feyre in childhood. Meanwhile, the IC's actions are immature and ignorant at best, and extremely abusive at worst.

Honestly, I don't think any of them, much less Rhysand, see what they did as a mistake. If any of them did, they wouldn't have made her walk through those woods. Feyre would've demanded Nesta be brought back otherwise, but she didn't.

As for Rhysand, honestly the part where he hugged Nesta gave me ick. Especially when Nesta said he'd been acting like a brother the whole time because he hadn't. He abused her. He broke her down. He only showed any semblance of decency (even then it wasn't much) when she did something to benefit him.

Offering pity jobs for somebody else's sake without taking into account Nesta's strengths or passions into account isn't what a brother, or anybody who cares for her, would do. Staring at her like a circus attraction when she enters the room isn't something a brother would do. Forcing her to social events just to ignore her isn't something a brother would do. Financially abusing her, refusing to give her a salary for her work during the war, along with her inheritance, is not something a brother would do. Not caring for her wellbeing beyond how her sister feel's is not something a brother could do. I could go on.

I think, at the end of the day, this amounts to a simple fact. SJM clearly doesn't see anything wrong with the things she writes and narrative she creates. No matter how you argue that ACOSF is a healing story, not a redemption story, it doesn't matter. Through analysing the sext, the author clearly shows how she feels about Nesta. Looking at what she says about the book, the author clearly has little understanding of mental health, and hasn't done enough research on it to be able to write a healing arc that isn't straight up abuse/torture (seriously, the bar is in the crust of the earth).

ACOSF could've been the best book in the series. All of the material, the concepts, the potential was there. Nesta's story was set up in ACOFS, and perhaps I wouldn't have minded the actions of the IC as much (from a literary perspective anyway) if they had been acknowledged as wrong and the IC apologised. I don't think anyone would've minded the locked in the HOW plot either, if, at some point, the characters acknowledge how abusive it was. If the narrative itself acknowledged how messed up it was, and did something about it.

If Cassian apologised for abandoning her after the war, Cassian especially. If Feyre apologised for not trying to reach out in a way that Nesta was comfortable with. If Elain apologised for not being there for Nesta the way Nesta was for her. If Mor apologised for, intentionally or not, isolating Nesta from the rest of the court. If Amren apologised for her comments. If Rhys apologised for sticking his nose where it didn't belong.

Rhys apologising for the hike, or threatening to kill her would mean nothing because both he and the narrative don't see anything wrong with his treatment of her. If he did, then the forced training/library/stuck in the how part would've ended half way through the book.

The part that infuriates me the most, however, is that they don't see their wrong doings at all. They still think they're doing the right thing and that they know everything. It's messed up.