#and i enjoy believing that something is out there. and that that something is god in any iteration.

[callipraxia]

I’ll admit it - thinking of ‘but what will people think of me?’ has stopped me short of writing things before, in everything from writing actual content to writing part of a review on a friend’s story. “What will [Friend] think, seeing that I know that? Even if I explain the actually relatively innocuous reason why I know it, would they even believe me? This is an issue of how something is portrayed in media that I feel pretty strongly about, but in context, it might be better to just…drop it.”

I…tried actually including a detailed example of my next point here, drawing from Anon’s Robert Jordan remark, but it ended up breaking the thousand-word limit before I even got past the introductory explanations, so I guess I’ll write a separate essay about why I don’t really agree with the “dudebro is secretly obsessed with lesbians and BDSM” line of thinking, maybe link it back here later if I remember. In the meantime, the point was - if I start thinking “dang, I think Author X has an Issue with Y,” it’s usually a lot less because of what the author leaves in than what the author leaves out. As an author, one deliberately chooses to explore certain topics, including dark ones that reflect the issues that preoccupy us (isn’t Anne Rice’s work supposed to be kinda messed up? I mean, I’ve never read a word she wrote that I can recall, but aren’t they all, y’know, horror novels?). As distasteful as we might find it, incest and pedophilia and sexual assault and suicide and all those other words you can’t use on YouTube are real things that happen every day. There’s a plethora of reasons why any given author might want to explore such issues in writing, and at least half of ‘em have nothing to do with sex. I’ve never heard anyone imply that Dostoyevsky must have been really, really turned on by the thought of attacking pawnbrokers with axes, much less that he ever committed a murder in real life just for the heck of it. From what I’ve read - though to be fair, my reading on the subject is not extensive - Nabokov probably wasn’t really a pedophile, and Mario Puzo probably had nothing to do with real-life organized crime. I have heard a few people suggest Stephen King must be a perverted serial killer in real life to write what he writes, but those people were idiots. And so forth. Point is, an author examining evil through a certain point of view really should not lead to the assumption that the author has done or wants to do any of those bad things. That’s why we say that authors use their imaginations when they’re working.

Plus, well…nine times out of ten, nobody’s going to make you read a book. If you really can’t read a book without getting uncomfortable because you can’t stop thinking that X or Y means that the author might have wanted his wife to put him on a leash and spank him, you can almost always just…put down the book and go read something else. You can also do this if you’re uncomfortable with Anne Rice apparently having conflicting feelings about God - that isn’t a potential theme that bothers me, but I know people who would be upset for days about reading something that even hinted at someone Having Questions about the divine. Heck, I have a few books I 99% enjoy and I just skim over or entirely skip parts that involve actions I find uncomfortable - my one hard rule is that I won’t willingly even skim anything where bad things happen to pets, but even then, I don’t assume that everybody who ever earned a Newbury Medal is a bad person who likes thinking about such things. I just don’t read their books. Unless you are compelled to do otherwise for a class* or the like, just do thou likewise.

*I was, very reluctantly, compelled to read two books in my undergraduate Adolescent Literature class where bad things happened to dogs; it was the first and last time in my life that I’ve ever tried to get out of reading something, but the professor didn’t believe what I could bring myself to explain about just how negative of a reaction I knew I would have if I read any books with dying dogs in them. Now I still have one of those scenes lodged in my carousel of intrusive thoughts that drive my anxiety level up and make it really difficult not to engage in compulsive behaviors whenever they rudely shove their way up to the front of my brain, but I don’t think badly of Sherman Alexie because of it.

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[missdynamighttt]

nsfw katsuki x reader but the reader is quiet (like only deep breaths n pants) How would katsuki react if the suddenly moan?

Been thinking abt this omfg

the first time you let bf! katsuki eat your pussy, he swore he got drunk off the taste of you.

sweet, warm, and intoxicating— you were everything he never knew he was craving. and the way you melted into his arms, only fueled his hunger.

"you taste so fuckin’ good,” katsuki muttered between slurps, diving his lips back into your needy little cunny. "holy shit... i don't wanna stop."

your boyfriend is a nasty fucking pussy eater, that much is obvious. eating you out with all the fire he had, hands gripping your thighs wide, tugging his teeth to suck on your clit, lips never feeling the place he calls heaven.

katsuki was already addicted to the little sounds you made. its painful how hard he gets, his dick twitching in his pants when your breath hitched as his lips met your folds, the soft pants you let out when he darts his tongue out to lick your clit. but still, just deep breaths. just gasps.

it drove him crazy.

he wanted more. needed more.

the second time, it was the same. it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy it. god, you did— but something about holding back made it all the more intense.

your fingers trembled in his hair, tugging slightly. but still, you stayed mostly silent. just breathing, panting. maybe you were nervous. but no matter how much katsuki worked you up, no matter how much his mouth explored your insides, you never gave him more than quiet, shaky breaths.

until now.

the third time, oh, the third time's a fucking charm.

when katsuki's lips dragged down your clit, tongue pressing against the sensitive skin of your folds, you moaned— an actual moan, breathy and desperate, like you couldn’t help yourself. a sound that was so purely you, so completely unrestrained, that it sent fire straight through his veins.

katsuki froze. then, he just snapped.

“that’s it,” he growled, pressing his lips to your pussy again, more insistent, more desperate. his tongue traced over the same spot, his breath hot against your wet cunny as he devoured the sound of you. “fuckin’ finally.”

you barely had a second to process what just happened before his lips were back on your cunny, more eager, more demanding, as if he was chasing that sound like his life depended on it as you moaned his name. “k-katsuki-”

“fuck— do that again,” he rasped, shoving your legs wider to hold you in place, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your pussy again, his mouth making lewd, squelching sounds out of your devouring your slick. "can't believe you've been holdin' out on me..."

you squirmed beneath him, hands flying to his hair, tugging lightly. “katsuki— wait, take it easy—”

but katsuki wasn’t listening. he was too caught up, too focused, too obsessed with hearing you again. his grip tightened, his mouth treating you rougher, more demanding.

he was fucking relentless, completely focused on getting another moan out of you. every little gasp, every shaky breath in between just spurred him on more.

you felt like you were burning under his touch, and he? he was thriving in it, lips dragging over every inch of your pussy, searching for every sound you could give him.

“not a fuckin’ chance. not when you sound like that. lemme hear you, baby.”

and when you moaned again, louder, more desperate— he groaned against your senstive skin, his body shuddering with pure satisfaction.

you weren’t holding back anymore. and now that he had a taste of your moans? there was no way in hell he was stopping now.

because no matter how much you tried to keep quiet, katsuki, your boyfriend always got what he wanted.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ lmao i have an exam in 30 mins, hope y'all enjoyed this💜

[mcu-fan-fics-blog]

Routine V

Mini Series

Wanda Maximoff x fem wife!reader

Summary: Routines can get tiring quickly, especially when you’re the only one working towards keeping them.

A/n: We meet again friends. I am very happy to be updating this fic once more. Also happy to inform that I have found a direction in which to take it!!! I hope you enjoy reading it.

Word count: 1400 approx

She was at a crossroads, there was nothing that she could do to stop you from leaving. She hadn’t stopped pacing the room since you left. That's when she saw it… Her saving grace. Maybe if she did this one thing she could at least open the door if not maybe just unlock it, something. At this point that was definitely better than nothing. Your passport and what looked like important papers were left sitting on the kitchen counter. You had left in a furious haze, something was meant to be left behind. You just didn’t think it would be your passport and work visa. That was the one thing that you thought you had in lock, the one thing that you couldn't forget… And you forgot it. Truthfully you knew that something was missing the moment that you stepped into the car with Kate, but you chalked it up to the stress that Wanda had caused.   

There was a time that anything that remotely felt like a fight was a no go. You never wanted to fight with Wanda, nothing about arguing with her seemed pleasant. In the beginning it was obvious she was scared and all of it was new. You danced around obvious issues the two of you had. One issue was a rather big one being Vision. It was strange their connection. It was something you knew would have easily gone the other way had you not been in the picture. They understood each other; you felt like the odd man out in your own relationship with her. It wasn’t until you exploded one day that the issue was addressed. Thinking back Wanda should have seen this coming. It almost ended the relationship before it really even began. She was tempted to call you, she really was. But she’d just crossed a very big boundary. Instead she texted Kate.

Her text was read almost immediately the text bubble kept appearing but nothing was sent. Wanda instead sent another message. ‘I’ll meet you at the gate, lose Y/n for a minute and I’ll give you her passport.’ She only received a thumbs up and she was on her way. It was high time Wanda started taking action. She wasn’t going to fail you now. 

You were lying. You had no idea where you got the confidence from but it was a complete lie. You loved her so much it hurt. She didn’t read your mind that time and it hurt that she believed you. Tears welled in your eyes, this day wasn’t supposed to go like this. You were supposed to leave peacefully, and now you had no idea what you were doing. She shook you. Wanda came into your life and turned it upside down and now she’s done it again. It was rough. Kate had been fidgety for the past twenty minutes. “Are you okay?” You managed to get the words out. She stilled wide eyed. “Uhm shouldn’t I be asking you that?” You hummed. “Probably… I’m just tired of the same thing over and over again.” You sighed. “There are so many things that I wanted to say. But she was right in front of me and the words disappeared.” Kate nodded, her eyes still fixed on the road. 

“Do you think… that uhm you’ll get back together?” She asked the obvious question. It only made your shoulders deflate more. Not because she asked, “It’s not up to me.” but because of how pitiful the answer was. And it was entirely up to her. You hadn't even been able to bring yourself to draft the papers. The fear that she’d actually sign them still managed to keep you up at night. What if she did, what then? “My heart… it aches constantly. Like something was ripped from me.” Kate cleared her throat. “You’re leaving Y/n… You're going abroad for god knows how long.” You nodded. “How else can I show her what she’s doing to me? Years Kate I’ve put up with it for years.” Kate nodded. “I did not suffer in silence, I let her know at every turn how she was compromising us.” Your words were laced with anger and conviction. And so quickly the sadness gave way to raw anger.  

Wanda felt she should have thought this entire situation out more. Here she was in her car on her way to the airport, filled with hundreds if not thousands of people. And the most daunting part being that you’re unaware. Her mind was already starting to hold her hostage. She made the treck mostly on autopilot. Then there was the whole getting through security, nothing her powers couldn’t handle. Only she somehow couldn’t. She had not felt this lack of control since ultron, she was tripping where she had learned repeatedly not to. It was overwhelming navigating through the masses of people trying to get to their flights, homes, families. Everyone's thoughts traversed constantly. Eventually and not without struggle she had found Kate, near a coffee shop.

“Finally! I thought you’d make this hard for me.” Kate’s words washed right through her. The only thing she could hear now was an angry ring, mocking her. She shook her head softly trying to dissipate the sound. Then she stilled, she could sense it. Her powers out of pure reflex sought you out. And another pang of sadness ran through her. She’d never been able to sense your anger. A slap in the face a testament as to how unwelcome she truly was. A tug at her arm brought her back. She was clutching your passport in her hand. The folder already in Kate’s possession. Kate sighed. “Are you okay?” She relented and finally asked the question. That seemed to snap her out of whatever trance she was in. She let go of the Passaport like it burned her. Kate noticed her distress and asked again. “My powers… are acting up, I'll be fine.” Kate nodded, not fully convinced. 

Kate had decided she’d throw Wanda a life line. She did not think someone could make a change so drastically in a matter of hours. This Wanda that was standing in front of her was not the same one she witnessed yell indignantly at you. This Wanda looked defeated, vulnerable. “She’s still waiting for you…” Kate said. Taking the woman in, and for a moment she wasn’t sure Wanda had heard her. Then tears started rolling down her face. “I don’t think she is…” the words came out tersely and clipped. “She's angry, she has every right to be. That doesn’t change the fact that she’s waiting… so give her time.” Kate sighed, taking a step back. “Fight for her…” She turned on her heel and walked away. Wanda seconds later managed to do the same. Her resolve slowly cemented.

Kate made her way back just as you started looking for her. She looks slightly flushed. Two coffees in hand, a folder tucked in between her arm and torso. Your eyes widened at the sight. “I didn’t even realize I was missing that!” You exclaimed. Taking a cup out of her hand, and the folder at the same time. “Kate, you're a lifesaver.” She nodded, taking a long sip of her drink. Then silence followed, you could have sworn you felt something. It made your heart race. You remembered the familiar feeling. A slight fuzz just out of reach in your mind. You couldn’t help but look around. Could it be, or was it just her lingering in your mind. Then once again Kate brought you back into the present. “Here your boarding group is about to be called.” Kate pulled you up from your seat making toward the line now forming.

Right as your ticket was scanned. She pulled you to the side slightly. “Promise you’re coming back.” You managed a small smile. “I will, I don’t think your mother will keep me away forever.” You joked. Keeping an eye on the people boarding. Kate nodded trying to reassure herself. “You forgot your passport… she brought them here. That's why I was gone for a minute.” Your heart started racing. “I didn’t want to keep it from you.” Then before you could even respond an airline worker was ushering through into the boarding tunnel. The last thing Kate managed to say was for you to call her when you landed. 

A/n: Please leave a like if you liked it!!! Late because I completely forgot to schedule. :(

Tag list: @fxckmiup @username23345 @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ 

[wingedhallows]

pairing: vi x reader | 1.1k words plot: a little slip up on your end results in a happy end authors note: hey, babes. I recieved a message - or rather a demand for more vi content and other characters so, here is a little something. hope you enjoy it :)

navigation

Her sheets are soft around you, the dim light casting gentle shadows across the room. The familiar sound of her favorite band hums in the background, a quiet, steady rhythm that blends with the warmth of the moment. You sink back against one of her pillows, feeling the comforting weight of it behind you.

Your hand rests on her thigh as she carefully drags the nail polish brush across your fingernail, her brows furrowed in concentration, The glossy black liquid glides into place, and you watch as she bites her lip, her tongue just barely peeking out in focus.

“You’re cute.” 

The words slip out before you even realize you’ve spoken them, your voice quiet - almost uncertain.

Her head snaps up in an instant, an - oh, sweet god - those sky-blue eyes.

“What?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, the tiny brush frozen mid-air as she stares at you.

Panic flares in your chest. Crap. You clear your throat, scrambling to backtrack, to smooth over the moment before it turns into something more than you meant. She wouldn’t like you back, right? Not Violet. No chance.

“I said you look like a fruit.”

The words tumble from your mouth before you’ve even fully processed them.

A fruit. Really? You mentally curse yourself. You’re the biggest idiot to walk this earth. 

Her eyebrows knit together, and she tilts her head, clearly trying to make sense of your nonsense. Oh, you’re done for.

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Her voice carries amusement, like she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. You curse yourself—of course it doesn’t make sense. The room feels heavier, the shadows stretching longer as her gaze stays fixed on you.

What are you supposed to do now? Your hands grow clammy as you force yourself to look away, willing your heart to stop its relentless hammering.

“I heard you, you know.”

Her voice is softer this time, a gentle caress against the storm in your mind.

What?

Your eyes snap back to hers, your shoulders tensing as you sink deeper into the pillows, half-hoping they’ll swallow you whole.

“You did?” The words barely escape your lips, breathless and uncertain. Your heart stutters, beating so wildly you’re convinced it might just give out.

She nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips as she carefully drags the tiny brush over your nail, coating it in sleek black polish.

“You’re cute too.”

You swear you hear laughter in her voice. Is she enjoying this? Your stomach flips as you stare at her, and for the first time, you realize just how close she is.

“You think so?” You manage, and you curse yourself for the pathetic uncertainty in your voice. How much more embarrassing can you get?

Heat creeps up your neck, and suddenly, the room feels warmer—was it always this hot in here? She chuckles softly, moving on to your ring finger, her movements steady and precise.

“I do, yeah. Wasn’t I obvious enough?” Her voice is quiet, almost teasing, but there’s something in it that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your brows knit together. Obvious? What in the world—

“Obvious about what?” You ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Vi keeps painting your nail, but you notice how her hand stills, just for a second.

“That I liked you.”

The confession nearly flies past you. Nearly.

Your breath catches in your throat. Your heart trips over itself. You swear you’re about to die—right here, right now, in the bliss of her fluffy sheets.

“What?” The word comes out embarrassingly weak, and you hate yourself for it.

Then, her eyes meet yours.

And for the first time since you’ve known her, you see it—vulnerability. Fear. She’s terrified. Of rejection. Of you breaking her heart. She swallows, looks away, maybe to gather the courage to keep going. When her gaze returns to yours, the faintest blush dusts her cheeks.

“I like you.”

The moment the words leave her lips, your ears ring. Your heart soars.

She likes you?

“I like you too.”

It comes out higher-pitched than you intended, but before you can feel embarrassed about it, you see her smile—small, but real.

Then she leans in.

The air shifts, suddenly too thin, like the room itself is holding its breath. Was there always this little oxygen in here?

Her hand comes up to cup your cheek, and your heart stops for a solid second.

Is this really happening?

“Can I?” she whispers, her breath brushing against your lips, sending your mind into a frenzy.

You swallow—hard—before nodding. A silent assurance. A quiet yes.

Vi doesn’t hesitate. She crashes her lips against yours, and the sensation sends a soft, helpless sound spilling from your throat. You feel like a prepubescent teenager, but you’re too blissed out to care.

You kiss her back, and for a moment, the world outside this room ceases to exist. You swear you hear the same breathless sound from her as she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against the seam of your lips. You don’t hesitate—you welcome her in.

The moment your tongues meet, she threads her fingers into your hair, pulling you impossibly closer. Your hands find her shoulders, clinging to her like she’s the only thing anchoring you to this moment. Your mouths move together, desperate, breathless, as if trying to make up for lost time.

Then Vi breaks the kiss, resting her forehead against yours, her breath coming just as uneven as your own.

“I think I love you,” she murmurs against your lips, and the words send a shiver down your spine.

You inhale sharply. The weight of her confession settles deep in your chest, but there’s no hesitation, no fear. Just her.

“I love you too.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, the words brushing against her skin like a secret only meant for her.

A small grin tugs at her lips. She brushes her thumb over your cheek in a slow, tender caress.

“Say it again,” she whispers.

And how could you deny her?

“I love you.” The words come out soft, reverent.

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, her expression melting into something so blissful it makes your heart ache. When she opens them again, you swear you see stars reflected in her gaze.

“God, I love you too.” Her voice is barely more than a breath, but it’s everything.

[sai-int]

what do you think 141 men's sun signs would be? (phillip graves and keegan included, if you headcanon them as well)

what do you think?

okay, i don't know HOW you knew i'm an astrology nerd, but i am. i won't go too in depth about their entire charts, but i can definitely figure out some sun signs based on who they are on a surface level!!

⸝⸝ john

a bonafide taurus, through and through (twinsies!!!). dependable, grounded, and a natural leader. he’s EXTREMELY protective over his men, stubborn to a fault, and always (tries to) keep a level head. he enjoys life’s finer things (like a good cigar and whiskey), but he’s also pragmatic and values stability. definitely the type to be patient, but once he’s pushed too far? unmovable.

⸝⸝ simon

a scorpio. intense, mysterious, and deeply private, embodies everything about this water sign. he keeps his emotions locked away, but when he loves, he does it with his whole soul (johnny). he’s the type to hold a grudge for life and operates in extremes, either you have his loyalty, or you don’t. his sense of humor is dark and dry, plus he thrives in the shadows.

⸝⸝ johnny

he's a tough one to call!! but i've settled on saggitarius. he's all firecracker energy, optimistic, adventurous, and constantly trying to beat someone up, shoot someone, or blow something up. he's a fucking dems expert. sagittarius fits him like a glove. PLUS, he’s got that infectious, chaotic charm and can talk his way out of (or into) anything. he doesn’t like being tied down, but when he’s dedicated to something, he gives it his all. the kind of guy who jokes to lighten the mood even in the worst situations, i mean come on. did you see him in las almas?

⸝⸝ kyle

LIBRA LIBRA LIBRA LIBRA. i have a libra rising so i feel so in touch with his sense of justice. for me personally, nothing enrages me more than seeing something just blatantly wrong. i mean think about the first modern warfare. man wanted to get his hands DIRTY for the greater good, or whatever. he felt it necessary in order to balance the scales, and libra's allllll about scales. he's also the mediator of the group, quick-witted, and socially adaptable. he knows how to navigate tense situations and keeps a cool head. libras are also deeply loyal to their people, and gaz would go to hell and back for his team. also he's fucking HOT, libra's ruled by venus.

⸝⸝ graves

a textbook leo and i'm not hearing anything else. charismatic, confident, and so good at making people believe in him. he carries himself like he’s the main character and knows how to command attention. but there’s that classic leo downside too, pride. his downfall is his ego, his need to be in control. he thrives in leadership positions and loves to be admired, but when his authority is challenged? that’s when the claws come out (e. g. "you've got about five seconds before i show you the difference between military, and me.")

⸝⸝ keegan

SUCH a capricorn and you cannot tell me otherwise. hes that no-nonsense, disciplined, get-shit-done type, which screams capricorn. he’s serious, hardworking, and has that quiet intensity that makes people take him seriously. capricorns are known for their sarcasm and dry humor, and keegan definitely embodies that. he’s also fiercely loyal. once you earn his trust, he’ll go to war for you.

⸝⸝ könig

a fun one to pin down. i’m torn between virgo and cancer, but i’m leaning more toward virgo.

he’s meticulous, observant, and highly analytical, classic virgo traits. virgos are often perfectionists, which fits with könig’s overthinking and anxiety. he strategizes everything, calculates risks, and probably notices details no one else does. he’s reserved but has a deeply anxious side, especially in social situations, which aligns with the more introverted nature of virgos. my sister's a virgo and has some ocd problems, but by god, there's a method to her madness and when she gets shit done, it's done well. virgos are also dangerous when they’ve had enough. they hold in a lot, but when they snap? it’s brutal.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Had an idea. Wrote a thing. Enjoy 🩶

*****

He walked away across the sand before stopping and turning to face Tommy. “Because I’m in love with you!” He yelled out. “And don’t even think about telling me I’m wrong about how I feel.” He turned again to face the ocean as he continued, not letting Tommy have the chance to reply. It was finally his chance to let out everything he was feeling since Tommy had broken up with him. “God, ya know I am sick of everybody telling me how I feel or what I want or what to do as if I’m not a god damn fucking grown man! Just once i would like someone to actually trust that I know how I feel and that I know what I want.” His chest was heaving as he walked back towards Tommy stopping a few feet away looking him directly in the eyes. “Because I do.”

Tommy’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed before speaking. “And what is it you want?”

“You, Tommy.” He replied immediately. “It’s always been you—it will always be you. And-and despite what you’ve convinced yourself, you are my last. Even if you don’t believe it. Even if-if I ended up married to someone else and have found some semblance of happiness—you will still be my last. I will never live a happier life than the one I could live with you. You were not some shiny new toy after I discovered my sexuality. Or-or some exciting right of passage along a journey of self discovery. You’re the love of my life, Tommy. And you may not have the courage to believe it but I have the courage to say it. Even if it changes nothing. Even if you decide to walk away again. Because I’m right. And deep down you know I’m right, too.”

Finally Buck left some space in the air around them for Tommy to speak and he wasted no time.

“Of course you’re right, Evan! About all of it. About everything!” Tommy stood up from the bench and began to pace. “I’m not confused about how I feel or how you feel. I do trust you to know how you feel—it was never about that.”

“Then what is it about?!”

“I’m terrified, Evan! I am so fucking scared of losing you! I never thought in a million years that I would fall in love let alone feel like my existence on this earth depends on someone else breathing. Everything in me exists for you. Every beat of my heart, every pump of blood through my veins, every breath in my lungs exists solely for you!”

He’d kept himself together, somehow, over the last 4 months—not a single tear shed. But now, standing on a desolate beach screaming at one another, the seal broke and the tears flowed.

“If something happened to you, or us it would be the thing that breaks me, Evan. I need you to understand that. I-“

“I do understand that!” Buck interrupted. “And don’t you think I’m scared too?! You think I’ve ever felt like this about anybody before? Tommy, every single person I have loved has left me at some point. Including you. And yet here I am still holding on to some shred of hope that you’ll be the one person to actually fight for me.”

“I want to, I-“

Buck closed the distance between them and took Tommys hands hoping to God that he would let him. He took a deep breath to calm his voice.

“Tommy, I can’t promise you a long and happy life with me. But I can’t promise you that I wont get in a car accident on the way to work tomorrow, either. Or that my apartment building won’t burn down or that you won’t get killed on the job.. Because nobody can promise that. Nobody knows what’s gonna happen in the future. All we can do, all I can do, is promise you that I will do everything that I can do to make you happy; to make us happy.” He tilted his head up towards the sky and blinked in an attempt to dry out his eyes before looking back at Tommy.

“I love you. And-and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you that.” He released one of Tommys hands and used his knuckle to gently wipe the tears from Tommys cheeks. Tommy closed his eyes for a moment relishing in the feeling of Evan’s comfort.

“Do..” Tommy’s throat was raw from the yelling and thick with emotion. “Do you promise?” He felt embarrassed by how meek and small he sounded.

But he couldn’t fight Evan anymore. More importantly he couldn’t fight himself anymore. Evan was the love his life. He could no longer deny it. He’d likely never not feel some kind of fear that it would all blow up on his face but he had no fight in him left.

Buck squeezed his hands.

“Yes. I promise.” Buck smiled softly through wet lashes.

“I love you so fucking much.” Tommy breathed and took Bucks face in his hands, kissing him so firmly Buck was forced back a step. Buck immediately kissed back; his hands all over Tommy—face, neck, shoulders, waist, arms.. any available space on Tommy’s body he could get under his fingertips in an effort to hold him in place and having no intention of ever letting him go again.

[ilovegyokeres]

Heyyy, could u write something like a friend of yn is interested in kenan, and they meet him after a game and her friend takes a pic with him but kenan’s gaze is on yn

Post-game- Kenan Yildiz

author’s note: i wasn’t really sure if you wanted them to be strangers or friends and how long you wanted, but i hope you like it. If you wanted something different you can ask me again 😅

The stadium was still alive with energy, even though the match had ended nearly an hour ago. Fans were slowly trickling out, their voices blending into an excited hum as they relived every goal, every near miss, every electric moment that had played out on the pitch. You could still hear the faint echoes of chants from outside, a reminder of just how intense the night had been.

You and your best friend had made your way outside, standing near the restricted exit where players left after games. It wasn’t just you two—there were a few reporters, staff members, and a handful of fans who had managed to get close, all waiting for a glimpse of their favorite players.

Your best friend could barely stand still. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, clutching her phone tightly, her eyes darting toward the entrance every few seconds. “Oh my god, this is insane,” she whispered, barely containing her excitement. “We’re actually going to see them up close. Him up close.”

You didn’t have to ask who him was. Kenan Yıldız.

For weeks, she had been obsessing over him—his games, his interviews, even the way he carried himself on and off the pitch. You’d heard it all. You supported her excitement, even if you weren’t quite as enthralled. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

The security guards shifted slightly, their movements signaling that the players were about to come out. Your friend inhaled sharply, gripping your wrist as the door opened.

And then, there he was.

Kenan walked out with effortless confidence, his bag slung over one shoulder, dressed in his post-game fit—black joggers and a fitted quarter-zip that hugged his frame in all the right places. His hair was still damp from the shower, and under the bright stadium lights, you could see the faint sheen of exertion still lingering on his skin.

Your best friend nearly slost it. “Oh my god,” she breathed, squeezing your arm. “That’s him. That’s actually him.”

A few fans called out his name, and Kenan acknowledged them with a polite nod, a small smile. He was composed, but there was something about the way he carried himself that made him stand out, even among the other players who were making their way toward the parking area.

Your friend wasted no time. Before you could react, she was pulling you forward, weaving through the small crowd until you were standing just a few feet away from him.

“Kenan!” she called, her voice bright and eager.

He slowed his steps, his dark eyes shifting toward her. He offered a polite smile, the same one he probably gave to dozens of fans after every game. “Hey,” he said simply.

Your friend was practically vibrating with excitement. “You were amazing tonight! Seriously, your performance was unreal. I’ve been following you for so long, and I can’t believe I’m actually seeing you in person.”

Kenan nodded, adjusting the strap of his bag. “Appreciate that. Glad you enjoyed the game.”

She was already pulling out her phone. “Can I get a picture with you? Please?”

Kenan glanced at her phone, then at you. It was only a brief flicker of his gaze, but you felt it. A quick, assessing look—one that was gone almost as soon as it had appeared.

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed.

Your friend practically squealed, stepping beside him, beaming as she handed you her phone. “Can you take it for me?”

You swallowed, nodding as you positioned the camera. Through the screen, you saw Kenan standing next to her, offering the same polite smile he had given when he first stepped out. But his eyes—his eyes weren’t on your friend.

They were on you.

It wasn’t obvious. Your friend, too wrapped up in the moment, didn’t notice. But you did.

You snapped the picture, your hands steady even though your pulse had inexplicably quickened. “Got it,” you said, handing the phone back.

Your friend checked the photo eagerly. “It’s perfect! Thank you so much, Kenan. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Kenan nodded, but before he could say anything, your friend turned toward you. “You should take one too!”

You hesitated. “I’m good.”

Kenan’s gaze flicked back to you, and this time, the corner of his mouth twitched. Amusement. “Not a fan?”

There was something about the way he asked it—smooth, teasing, like he already knew the answer.

Your friend laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “She’s not as obsessed as I am, but she should be. I mean, look at you.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks at her words, but Kenan didn’t seem fazed. If anything, his expression deepened into something unreadable.

“You sure?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. “You might regret it later.”

Your lips parted slightly. Was he actually trying to get you to take a picture with him?

Before you could answer, someone called his name—a member of the staff, signaling that he needed to move toward the team bus. Kenan glanced in their direction before turning back to you.

The moment was fleeting, but it was there.

His gaze lingered for just a second too long. His eyes flickered over your face, as if he was memorizing something. And then, with a small, almost knowing smile, he nodded once.

“See you around.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Your friend, oblivious to everything that had just transpired, was already texting someone, probably freaking out over the picture. “I can’t believe that just happened,” she whispered excitedly. “I’m actually shaking.”

But you barely heard her.

Your mind was stuck on the way Kenan had looked at you. On the way he had seemed just a little more interested than he was supposed to be.

It wasn’t obvious.

But it was enough.

Your friend was still buzzing with excitement, her fingers flying across her phone screen as she texted about the encounter, completely oblivious to the way you stood frozen in place, staring in the direction Kenan had walked away.

His presence lingered.

It was ridiculous—you weren’t the one who had gotten a picture, you weren’t the one who had been gushing over him. Your friend was the one who had been waiting for this moment for weeks.

And yet… you were the one he had looked at.

Not her.

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to shake off the thoughts swirling in your head. It was nothing. A fleeting glance, nothing more. You weren’t about to read into something that wasn’t there.

“Are you even listening?” Your friend’s voice pulled you back to the present. She was staring at you, wide-eyed.

“What?”

She huffed. “I said I think some of the players are going to their cars instead of the bus! They’re leaving from the other exit. Maybe we can see Kenan again?”

Your stomach flipped. “I—”

“Come on! You owe me for taking me with you tonight,” she teased, grabbing your wrist and tugging you in the direction of the private parking area.

You let out a breath, knowing there was no arguing with her when she was this determined.

As you approached the exit, the scene was calmer than before. Only a few security guards were stationed near the parking lot, where a handful of sleek black cars were lined up. Some players were already heading toward their vehicles, engaged in quiet conversation.

And then, there he was again.

Kenan was standing near one of the cars, talking to someone from the team staff. His bag was now in his hand, and he looked more at ease than he had before, no longer surrounded by the post-game rush.

Your friend’s grip on your wrist tightened. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” she whispered under her breath. “He’s right there.”

She hesitated, probably debating whether it was too much to approach him again. But before she could make a decision—before you could convince her either way—Kenan looked up.

And his eyes landed on you.

You weren’t imagining it this time. There was no crowd, no distractions. It was clear, direct. A silent acknowledgment that you were there.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze sharpened—like he recognized you from earlier.

Like he had been expecting you.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Your friend, completely unaware, finally mustered the courage to take a step forward. “Should I say hi again?” she whispered excitedly.

Before you could answer, Kenan did something that made your heart stutter.

He tilted his head slightly.

It was subtle, barely even noticeable, but it was a wordless cue. An invitation.

Not to your friend.

To you.

And for some reason—despite every part of your brain telling you that this wasn’t supposed to happen, that your friend was the one obsessed with him, not you—you took a step forward.

Your friend was so caught up in her own excitement that she didn’t realize you had moved first. By the time she followed, Kenan had already shifted his attention, his full focus locked onto you.

“Did you regret not taking a picture after all?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. His voice was calm, composed, but there was something else underneath. A quiet amusement.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling like the air around you had thickened. “No,” you said, trying to sound indifferent. “I don’t think I need one.”

His eyebrow lifted just slightly, like your answer intrigued him.

Your friend finally spoke up, her voice a mix of excitement and nerves. “We didn’t want to bother you again, but I saw some players coming this way, and I just—well, we—thought we’d say hi.”

Kenan nodded, polite as ever, but his gaze only flickered to her for a brief moment before settling back on you.

“You always follow the team after games?” he asked, still speaking directly to you.

Your friend let out a nervous laugh, completely missing the shift in the conversation. “No, just this once! It’s not like we’re stalking you or anything,” she joked.

Kenan smirked, but his eyes never left yours. “Good to know.”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.

Your friend kept talking, still caught up in her own world, but you could barely focus on her words. The air between you and Kenan was tense—not in an awkward way, but in a way that felt undeniably charged.

It was subtle. The way his posture remained relaxed but completely attentive. The way his gaze didn’t waver, even when your friend spoke.

You weren’t supposed to be the one he was interested in.

And yet, here you were, standing in the quiet parking lot, feeling the weight of his gaze like it was something tangible.

Your friend finally glanced at her phone. “Oh shoot, our ride is almost here,” she said reluctantly.

You nodded, snapping out of whatever haze you had been in. “We should probably go.”

Kenan didn’t say anything at first. But as you turned to leave, he spoke—low enough that only you could hear.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he murmured.

You paused, glancing back at him. “What?”

His expression remained unreadable, but there was something knowing in his eyes.

“You might regret not taking a picture.”

The way he said it—so casual yet so deliberate—made your pulse quicken.

Before you could respond, your friend called your name, waving you over.

Kenan didn’t wait for an answer. He simply gave you a small, knowing nod before turning toward his car.

As you walked away, your friend was still talking about the encounter, still wrapped up in the excitement of the night.

But all you could think about was the way Kenan had looked at you.

Like this wasn’t the last time you’d cross paths.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

And suddenly, the picture you hadn’t taken felt far less important than the moment you had just shared.

[egrets-not-regrets]

Saint Valentine

You watch as your Word Bearer, Aziel, and his group go down to the basement for their regular ritual. Little did you know they were planning to summon someone to ask for some odd advice.

Author’s Note: I have a Word Bearer OC now!

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog , @bispecsual , @c-u-c-koo-4-40k , @ms--lobotomy

@gra93fruit-blog , @i-am-a-dragon34 , @felinisnoctis, @thevoidscreams, @yurihasurunbara

God love him, Aziel is very helpful and loyal (daresay a somewhat like a dog), and is a wonderful hype-man, but sometimes he can get a bit absurd and uncomfortably zealous about it. Not to mention him trying to convert you to believing the Four, whoever they are. You’re not particularly religious, but you’re of the opinion people can believe whatever they want to so as long as it doesn’t hurt others. You can take only so much chatter of worship of you and his gods after all. It got to the point you had to tell him to cut down the words of praise and worship lest you think he is being insincere. He was rather insulted by the fact that you questioned his sincerity for you, but he made an effort to not do that as much. His nicknames, however, never stopped.

You figured all this may be due to his loneliness and the lack of company of his peers, so you were relieved when Aziel found a group of Word Bearers to hang out with. Better for him to go out and socialize rather than pour all his focus on you. It wouldn’t do him much good to have too much of a codependent relationship with you.

Them together were an odd bunch, they all seem to look so different! Some seem to be living armor, while others, like Aziel, have more human like forms but with horns protruding from their head, looking the living embodiments of demons or monsters. They visited weekly, typically to discuss their own theological literature from what little you can understand in gothic, pray, and chant. It seemed no different than the Sunday worship that your christian friend took you to once. Sometimes listening to their chanting puts you to sleep at night.

Today’s visit was the same. The Word Bearers passed by with a nod or a wave as they made their way down to the basement as usual. You looked at your own Astartes carrying a box in his arms. Curious, you asked him, “What do you have in there?”

“Items for our ritual, my darling goddess.”

You couldn’t help but blush at his pet names, but frown at the mention of a ritual, “Please tell me that a half-decomposed animal carcass is not part of it.” the memory of a decomposing deer carcass that stunk up the house for several days made you want to wretch. Where did Aziel acquire such a thing any way? You wonder.

Aziel nuzzled you and reassuringly replied, “I promise it is nothing of that sort.”

Your shoulders sagged with relief and turned to start filling the kettle, “The usual for you guys?”

“Yes. Thank you, my radiant light.” The Word Bearer leaned down and kissed your temple. You giggled and smiled at him, “You’re welcome. You go ahead, tea and mocha will be ready up here when you’re done.”

Aziel purred as he nuzzled you again then left. You started to brew very strong coffee. You stuffed the massive tea strainer full with rooibos tea mixture, set out honey, a large tin of powder hot chocolate, and a jar of dried chili flakes. They had a preference for sweet and strongly flavored drinks given how much they enjoyed the mocha you made. Aziel and his friends would take a while and when they start their ending chants, it would be the perfect time to boil water.

You were reading a novel on your tablet when a cloying smoky scent filled your nostrils as if something was baked way too long. Was something burning? Smoke billowed out when you opened the door to the basement.

“Aziel?” You called out worriedly.

You coughed and waved the smoke away from your face. Concerned and forgetting that your Astartes could withstand a lot more than the average human, you rushed downstairs.

“We summon you, St. Valentine!”

You paused when you heard them say the name “St. Valentine”, catching on that they were trying to summon something or someone. When the smoke cleared, you were left standing awkwardly on the stairs, the group of Word Bearers staring at you, all positioned around a summoning circle drawn with what you hope was red paint. Three of them were kneeling in prayer, one was holding a book aloft, and another one was swinging an incense burner pouring with smoke. Aziel stood in front of them as if directing the entire ritual. A heart shaped box of chocolates and a bouquet of red roses laid in the middle. It was clear the St. Valentine they were trying to summon was the St. Valentine of Valentine’s Day. Not that it did anything.

“Sorry… Aziel. I… I thought… something was burning.” You stuttered in embarrassment, quickly turning to go back upstairs, “I’ll go, sorry I interrupted you.”

Suddenly, you felt yourself falling forward into an armoured embrace.

“Don’t leave. Please, my guiding star.” Aziel rubbed his face against your hair like a cat seeking affection.

“But don’t you have to finish the ritual?”

His grip tightened, scared that you would disappear if he let go, “We are finished, but the ritual was not successful.” He mumbled.

You felt bad for breaking their focus at such a critical moment thus contributing to their failure, “I’m sorry…” you started.

As if he knew already what you’re going to say, Aziel reassured you, “You have no fault in this. It is much more difficult to summon anything in ancient Terra. Do not fret.”

His fire-patterned eyes held a glimmer of humour and something else as you looked at him, “We summoned you after all.” he chuckled.

You snorted and laughed, “I don’t think that counts. Why are you guys trying to summon St. Valentine?”

“We wish to ask for his wisdom in properly courting our bonded.” Aziel replied earnestly.

Your mouth dropped open. Heat spread across your face and your heart skipped a few beats. You stammered, “You… I… um… you want to court me?” Aziel was very devoted to you and at times a little too devoted, but you thought it was just the way he was as a Word Bearer. Never in your wildest imagination did you think that Aziel had feelings for you to the point he would try to summon St. Valentine to ask for advice. It was a lot to take in. Perhaps you’ll take the lead and rein back Aziel a bit, knowing how gungho he could get

The fact that his buddies went along with him to do so just made the situation even more ridiculous. You laughed and reached to rubbed the smudge of dirt off the base of one of his horns. Purring loudly, Aziel leaned into your touch. You then cupped his face with your hands stroking the scarified mark on his left cheek, “I am very flattered. But…”

Aziel’s face fell.

His face brightened once again when you pecked his nose with a quick kiss, “You silly man. I was about to say let’s talk about how I want to be courted and we can go from there.”

If your Word Bearer had a tail, he would be wagging it in happy excitement, “You are saying ‘Yes’?” he asked.

“Yes. Now, go clean up and bring the chocolate and flowers up with you. Then we’ll chat. I’m sure it will help your brothers as well.”

Aziel gently pressed his lips against yours, “Of course, my lovely moon lily.” before releasing you from his grasp.

[laurentidal]

Cook and Clean

Sequel to Think Nothing of It

"Don't you think it's time you start pulling your weight around here?"

Marissa looked up at me harshly. Fair play. It's not as if I didn't know she'd be offended by the comment. In all honesty, it's why I said it. Having the power to impose your will on others indiscriminately can turn you into something of an egomaniac. At least I'm self-aware.

The look she gave me was also slightly undercut by the fact that she on her hands and knees, naked, with my seed leaking from two of her holes. Another quirk of my skill set was that I was comfortable in the knowledge that no matter what selfish and degrading shit I said to her, she wouldn't move from that spot.

She could look back at me with all the disgust and malice she could muster, but I'd looked into her eyes, given her a command to get into position, and she'd said "Yes, sir." So in position she would stay until I was done with her.

I stood up. "You disagree?"

"I do plenty around here, dick," she said, taking my movement for a sign that I was done for now. "I do both of you assholes, don't I?"

She gestured to Anthony, who sat in the corner, eyes glazed. His own cock was in his hand and his cum splattered up his chest to his chin.

"I believe I'm the one doing your asshole, Marissa." She blushed slightly. "Go take care of your boyfriend."

She rolled her eyes, but I grabbed her hard by the chin, forcing her eyes to meet mine. "And make sure he enjoys it."

The sass and defiance fell from her face for a heartbeat before returning. "Yes, sir."

She went to Anthony woke him from the twilight I'd put him in. He loved to watch us, and I loved to see him helpless. It was a good arrangement for now. She slowly, sensually licked all his mess off of him. She even offered to share with him, which he eagerly accepted. He thanked her, as he had been conditioned to, and returned to his room to put his clothes back on.

Marissa stayed naked, as was the house rule.

"I'm not kidding. It's time you start doing the cooking and the cleaning." I groped her oversized chest. "You've got more weight to pull than us, Milky."

Ripples of pleasure moved through her at the name.

"So what do you want me to clean other than my boyfriend's jizz?"

"Don't worry. I'll work out a schedule for you to follow. Maybe I'll even get you a little maid outfit you can put on."

"I'm sure you pervs would love that."

"So will you," I said meeting her eye again. "You'll be wet at all times wearing your slutty maid uniform."

"Yes, sir."

God she was the perfect combination of dumb and defiant. Anyone else would have learned by now never to set their gaze anywhere near my face. But poor overly confident Marissa just kept looking.

"Now go make dinner. And if it tastes good, I might even let you sleep in your boyfriend's room tonight."

Thanks for reading! If you are a fan of my work, consider buying me a coffee. Any contribution is insanely appreciated. 💖

[exhaustedpirate]

trouble magnet

day 3 of @bucktommyfluffebruary !! i do not know why tommy is there. physics? don't know her! this is silly, the shortest one-shot i wrote but i live for the vibes and cuteness, so enjoy!

rated T | 633 words also on AO3

Maybe it was karma. 

For what? Not sure, but it feels karmic.

Eddie and Chim are laughing and Buck’s gonna die of embarrassment. 

“What the hell’s going on?”

Oh, god. Just when it couldn’t get worse.

“N-Nothing, Tommy,” Buck quickly said, trying to cover up the fact that he almost bit his tongue. “Everything is fine.”

“Evan,” Oh, no, not that tone. “You are hanging upside down from the ladder, I think something is very much not fine.”

Thankfully, his blush is covered up by the fact that his blood is pooled on his head. He closes his eyes when Eddie stops laughing enough to actually speak.

“He-He tried to save that lady’s cat from that balcony ‘cause the stairs are blocked,” There’s a pause where his (no longer) best friend giggles and he’s sure Tommy is looking at the fire engine-level balcony missing a cat. “So he gets up there and starts calling the cat,” Chimney snorts and Buck groans. “The cat is not coming and Buck tries to reach him, oh god, tries to reach- I can’t.” Eddie puts his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

“The cat scratches him,” Chim blurts out with a giggle and Buck is considering convincing his sister to divorce him. “Buck still tried to get him but he lost balance, the cat jumped over him into his owner’s arms and this happened.” 

This being Buck tangled in the hose that he had used on the upper levels. He was thankful for his helmet or he would have hit the side of the truck hard. There were definitely already a few hundred pictures of him circulating around social media. 

Tommy sighs and even upside down, he can see the worried frown on his forehead. “Get him down, guys,” He commands the other two giggling traitors. “He could get hurt.”

“Fine, fine,” Chim surrenders as he tries to catch his breath. “Come on, Diaz.”

Buck puts on his most innocent smile as Tommy approaches. “Hi.” He says softly at his fiance’s raised eyebrow.

Tommy huffs exasperated but, even with blood rushing through his ears, he can hear and see and feel the fondness, the love. He looks around casually as Eddie and Chim organise themselves on top of the engine before he smirks.

“You have a knack for getting into trouble.” 

Buck frowns for a second, something in his tone telling him that it’s not just a commentary on his trouble magnet nature. Christopher’s constant singing of the Spider-Man theme song lights up a metaphorical light bulb in his head. Buck grins.

“You have a knack for saving my life.”

Tommy chuckles, holding the back of his head to support him, and Buck relishes that warm feeling that always fills him at the look in the other man’s eyes. Tommy approaches him and they kiss over their smiles, short and sweet, Buck licking his lips when it’s over which earns him another smacking kiss. 

He feels something pull at his legs and winks at Tommy. Eddie and Chim pull him up slowly until he’s looking up at the sky instead of upside down at the world, his back on the ladder. 

“All good, Buckaroo?” Chim asks him with a teasing smirk while Eddie taps his side.

With a completely unbidden giddy smile, Buck can’t help but burst out. “I can’t believe I actually just got a Spider-Man kiss.” 

Tommy laughs with the other two at his comment from where he still stands on the side of the engine. “This was not a reward, Evan.” The tone doesn’t quite work when Tommy is charmed by him.

“I still feel rewarded, Thomas.” 

What he doesn’t say, as his friends check him out for injuries, is that every one of his kisses is a reward in itself. 

[xjulixred45x]

🍓 Hello author, can I request a fluff ROR Anubis x Husband!Reader where the reader is the god of monsters and part of the Norse pantheon ? Reader is known for being monstrous, ugly, emotionless, and a man-eater, but in reality, he is beautiful, vegetarian, romantic, and always wears long or puffy dresses. However, even though he is kind, he is still very powerful. I hope I haven't asked for too much, and I apologize if I did 🍓

I'll try My best

Anubis x God of Monsters! Reader: Facade

Anubis loves his husband, very much, and he made that the problem of the entire Egyptian pantheon.

It was not uncommon for him to sometimes go full speed on all fours to the altar of one of his fellow gods, just to talk about something nice his partner, Reader, did when no one else was looking, or to blabber on about how much he loved them and how lucky he was.

The problem? No one believed him.

After all, Anubis had somehow managed to marry Reader, a god from the Norse pantheon that none of the Egyptian pantheon had ever seen (if it weren't for confirmation from the gods of the Norse pantheon, everyone would have thought Anubis had made him up), but they had heard many… interesting things about him.

There were many human legends about him, the man-eater, a cruel and hideous creature who enjoyed the suffering of humans and gods alike, with a horrible temper, who was incapable of feeling any kind of guilt or remorse. A complete monster turned god.

Thanks to this, there were many doubts about how the hell someone like Anubis, who despite all his faults, was very lively and energetic, ended up with someone supposedly so cruel and dismissive, someone who probably didn't care about him the same way he cared about reader.

There were some gods who cared about him, and tried to talk about it for his sake! They just wanted to make sure he didn't end up with a soul-sucking god or something like that. However, they were surprised to see how calm Anubis was about the whole thing, downplaying it, even laughing at the oh very serious rumors about his husband.

The reason? Simple, he knew that all of that was bullshit.

Don't get me wrong, Anubis can sense death a mile away, he would know what he was talking about, and while that scent was irresistible, reader definitely didn't have that smell, he had something much, much better.

Actually, none of those people (much less those who had made those legends, or the rumors) had ever met the reader he had met. Not only one of the most beautiful men he had ever seen, but also someone extremely kind and gentle! Man-eater? Monster? Bullshit! He knew his mate.

Sure, reader had an important position in the Norse pantheon, being the god and father of most of the monsters that formed their mythology, but that didn't make him any less loving towards the life forms that formed the pantheon. It was almost strange, seeing how he treated monsters like ice giants or sea creatures as if they were children, however, Anubis found this excessively tender, as a sign of his mate's true feelings.

Reader was someone whose philosophy was based on not inflicting harm on other living beings, even those that were considered dispensable or necessary for survival. Anubis still remembered how strange he felt at first when he found out that Reader, a god of monsters, was a vegetarian and preferred not to receive sacrifices in his offerings (like most gods).

Many made this seem like something strange and big when in reality, he had a simple answer to why he was like that, he wouldn't let himself be defined as a monster just by what they say about him, he knows the kind of person he is, and it's just his problem. But he wouldn't let his position as a god of monster define him as one. That was what attracted Anubis to Reader, that he rejected death, but didn't see it as something bad, it was interesting. Well, that and other things.

Despite being a seemingly stoic god, Reader actually had a great taste for traditional romance from various cultures, whether it was giving gifts that he knew Anubis would enjoy, things he learned from his worshipers, even arranging dates so that both could be alone, without any god interrupting them.

Reader enjoyed making things a little special, but nothing could captivate the heart of the Egyptian god of death when Reader showed his most careless and normal side to him. Things like Reader waking up in his pajamas and messy hair, instead of his immaculate appearance and extravagant clothes, or allowing himself to do things like laugh out loud, play children's games, talk like an idiot to his smallest and most adorable monsters, were things that sealed the deal for Anubis.

THIS was the man, the god, that he wanted to stay with for the rest of his life, for all eternity. No matter what his companions, or the other gods, said, what does it matter?

As long as he and Reader can enjoy each other's company, everything is fine.

Shares, reblogs, and comments are very welcome!

[utilitycaster]

C3 is a look on colonialism fans died out when imgn proposed the mortals plan. Because suddenly it was all about godlings, uwu cute babies and which characters could raise who either in revenge (Kiki & the Matron) or love (BY and Stormlord). As soon as that option got put on the table I never heard anyone else talking about colonialism. How can you when your blorbo's plan is allowing the "colonist power" to physically occupy the land and become more entrenched in political society.

That is definitely also part of it. Essentially, the problem is when people assign a show's political leanings on this basis of whether they like the blorbos or the ships. It's particularly bad in C3, where the general vibe among its most vocal fans was "anything my blorbo does is okay actually because if you don't like them you are attacking me personally," and where the people yelling about the clear themes of anticolonialism were mostly the descendants of the colonizers talking over if not outright disparaging the colonized. And the even bigger problem and what that original post was about is, of course, whether they do anything political outside posting and fandom, or if they just pretend that they do; not to mention whether they do anything one might consider radical (I know a lot of people who make no claims to be anything but a middle of the road registered democrat liberal who are almost certainly more active in community gardening and buy nothing groups and mutual aid and protecting the vulnerable in their community than the people who incorrectly decided that over-identifying with Ashton Greymoore was a substitute for having empathy for real living human beings who don't agree with you on fandom bullshit).

It is however not unique to C3. Since that recent question about C2 vs C3 criticism I've been thinking of people who suddenly started having massive problems with how Marisha played Beau as a woman of color after it became clear Beau and Yasha were going to get together, despite that being something that would not have changed in the slightest had Beau and Jester gotten together. It's not just "if a character is racist that means the author is racist which means the work is racist which means the fans are racist"; it's also that whether a work is racist or not is entirely determined on whether they liked what was happening in it.

I don't want to entirely decouple what one reads and enjoys from your politics altogether - obviously, someone who hates works on the basis of them including complex women or nonwhite characters or queer characters is going to be a bigot - but there really is a problem of people conflating what is explored in a work with the author of the work with the readers of that work, or people conflating (for example) not liking a specific queer ship or female or nonwhite character with homophobia, misogyny, or racism while themselves not abiding by that same rule, or generally just doing more arguing on behalf of fictional characters in fandom than living out any of their values in the real world. Like, really, am I supposed to believe the people who were assholes to Jewish people flagging how the anti-god arguments sounded uncomfortably close to real world anti-semitic rhetoric (and those people also deciding to put the word 'degenerate' in our mouths for *checks notes* thinking Laudna and Imogen are adults who are in control of their choices and actions and are not owed universal adoration) and who have, according to multiple conversations and some WILD confessions people have had in my tags, spent this entire campaign disparaging the colonized experiences of multiple people of color, particularly those of native/First Nations or Asian descent, are like...doing things in the real world that require interacting with people who aren't like them?

[strwberry-bluntz]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚. XIAO DRABBLE

(fluff, no warnings!)

FEM PRONOUNS

۶ৎXiao was foreign to the feelings that had begun mustering within him. Time and time again he would show up to your infirmary with his body covered in injuries from battle. Being a protector of liyue he knew it was his duty to fufill the purpose rex lapis had given him. While being tough, such battles have always ended up leading him back to being under your care. Though he'd never show it, he enjoyed the treatments you gave him and the conversations you guys would have. How had he become so vulnerable to a human?

The yaksha sighed sitting down under a tall tree shading the sun from his view. He looked down at the materials he had gathered while a pink shade dusted his cheeks so lightly. A shaved branch, leaves, and several qingxins were placed infront of him. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Had he gone weak? Letting such a strongly built guard down for a pathetic human. Are the archons cursing him for his sins?

Xiao couldnt repay you enough for the times you had tended to his wounds. He felt as if he was in an everlasting dept until you stop treating him. The peace he felt with you was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He was constantly on edge. however when he was with you his mind was at bay. It always felt as if you two were the only people in the world, and truthfully he wished it were that way. The adeptus finished his craft and felt the bubbly feeling rising in his chest.

Once again making his way to your infirmary his heart began racing. How dare he feel such weak emotions like love and graditude. Internally xiao was a mess while he maintained his stoic expression on the outside. Just walking to your room was making the adeptus palms sweaty. He prayed to the archons that you would accept his gift and reciprocate his feelings. He'd be willing to drop everything if it meant being with you forever. Weather it took him being hurt a million times to end up back in your infirmary he was determined. Such a selfish feeling.

He lets out a small sigh before lightly knocking on the infirmary door.

"come in" your soft voice was heard from the other side.

Xiao opened the door and was greeted with you sitting at your desk. A soft smile was held on your face. He felt like he could melt right then and there.

"Xiao!" she exclaimed rising from her chair to wrap her arms around the adeptus.

"Are you hurt? what have you gotten yourself into today. I know you are busy but you still need to take care of yourself!"

You were so precious to him, he could only smile at your words.

"Here" He says handing you a beautifully carved hair pin decorated with qingxins and leaves. A pink shade dusted xiaos cheeks as he hands it to you. His palms began to sweat again as he waited for your reaction. Hes never been this on edge before, not even while hes fighting for liyues protection, or when hes being cursed by the gods for his sins.

"Its stunning" She manages to spit out taken by surpise at the sudden gift.

"I love it" She says placing it in her hair. Her eyes twinkled at the gift and xiao could feel his heart skipping a beat.

"I just wanted to show you how greatful i am for your care." He spoke averting eye contact.

"And i think ive grown more fond of you than i should be... I cant help but feel a constant need to repay you or go beyond." He shares feeling slight regret at how vulnerable hes being.

"Xiao...I love you so much you dont even know" she said wrapping her arm around his neck.

Xiao feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. He wraps his arms around your waist fulling engulfing you.

"You're so precious to me, thank you for accepting my gift." He spoke

"Thank you for giving me something" She giggled as they both leaned in and closed the gap between them.

۶ৎ

hii ik its been like soooo long. i hope u guys like this small drabble its def not my best but its been in my drafts forever and i just want to finish it so i can hopefully write other stuff :3 i have sm lil ideas i just lose motivation so fast n get writers block lawl. also probably gna change my whole layout cus idk im bored of this one but hopefully ill upload more <333

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for the tags @sawymredfox, @galway-girlatwork

Right now my grammar goddess @devineconjuring is eating dots for the next chapter of Golden Girl... once she's done and I go through the notes that @schnarfer has left me, GG will be out. It takes a village y'all.

The small stack of gifts from you is grouped next to him. He holds up the ALF plush you knitted for him, knowing it’s one of his favorite shows ever. “I can’t believe you made me this. It's… amazing baby. Defintely my favorite gift ever.” “You said that to me last night when you stuck your dick in me. So it’s ALF and then me?” His jaw drops before lifting to smile. “God, you’re funny.” He looks around the room, taking in everything before he reaches for his iPad. “So, I have something else for you, but it’s, uh,” he lifts his hand, nervously rubbing his neck, “it’s not here, and it’s not done yet." You arch an eyebrow, looking at him with a hint of puzzlement. He beckons you over with his finger. “Come here.” You crawl through the sea of crinkly paper into his lap, the back of your head resting against his chest.

I'm already 4K words into the third installment of Javier/Steve's little sister. I literally wrote 1,000 words for them last night in less than an hour. That's how easily their story flows for me. I don't want to give too much away, but I will share this.

You make an excuse. Drooping your posture and yawning, telling everyone at the opening night party that you’re not feeling well. Elliott offers to take you back to your place, like the gentleman he always is. Squeezing his hand, you thank him and tell him to enjoy the night before leaving the bar. The drops of guilt inside you fade when you pull the newspaper clipping out of your jacket and trace your fingers across the slight indentation where Javi’s pen pressed against the paper as he wrote his number.

Also, peek behind the cut for who I picture as Elliott (Harry Styles jump scare warning)

Imagine Javier Peña getting one look at this dude lol

Tagging: @schnarfer, @mothandpidgeon, @beefrobeefcal, @perotovar, @almostfoxglove @arcanefox207, @justagalwhowrites, @itwasntimethatdidit40, @ace-turned-confused, @thelightsandtheroses @sizzlingcloudmentality, @guiltyasdave, @goodwithcheese, @jolapeno, @secretelephanttattoo

[grymm-gardens]

Rook x Neve WIP

I haven't written in a decade but Veilguard has me itching for more content, so I am back at it with some scene rewrites as practice.

Enjoy Rook being a bit of an awkward freak post waking up from stopping solas's ritual and Neve being amused by it.

Rook contemplated how long she could evade her new reality. Perhaps she could just keep her eyes closed. Maybe then she could will the ancient Elvhen god in her head into being just a preposterous dream. As nearly settles further into sleep, the throbbing pain in her head cut through any hope of avoiding the looming threats ahead of her.

She opens her eyes slowly, the soft candlelight nearly blinding her as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. Every movement she makes to orient herself seems to reveal a new blinding pain. Hoisting herself up with all of her remaining strength, she settles herself against the bed frame to find some grasp on reality.

Where the fuck am I? The room itself was unlike anywhere she had ever been before. It was elvhen, and ancient, but nothing like the ruins she had visited in the past. The near pristine conditions seemed impossible. It seemed to be an infirmary. Across the room her eyes settled on a dwarf's sleeping silhouette.

Varric, He's alive. Solas will pay for this. Rook makes a doomed attempted to heave herself from the bed, but her body has other plans. The resounding pain makes her acutely aware of the injuries she recieved from the Dread wolf and his ritual. Quickly falling back towards the bed, she relents, hoping it's not just her and the half-dead rogue here. Wherever here is. Almost as is answering a prayer, the door is quickly thrust open, more light filling the room.

"Rook! Look who's awake." Turning towards the voice, she believes maybe for once her prayers have been answered. Neve. Rook had feared the worst when they were seperated bringing down the staues. Seeing her alive and seemingly well was a relief. Her presence was a welcome gift, and how remarkably beautiful the detective managed to still look was not lost on the young Watcher. "I've been searching the place for lyrium potions, I didn't mean to intrude." Neve searches a table near the doorway to no avail. She turns to greet Rook with a warm smile despite her fruitless search. She cannot help but admire the detective's nearly statuesque form against the dim lighting.

"You could never." Rook firmly states as she meets the other womans gaze. " Besides I'm thrilled to see another friendly face around here, especially yours." Neve chuckles and takes a few small steps toward her, before the Watcher is forced to look away. "Speaking of where is here exactly? It feels... Odd?"

"Yeah, be careful when you go outside, it's a long way down." She stops walking before another crate to search before continuing. "The Eluvian led us into something. And it's in the fade.Because thats where we need to be right now - the dream world."

"Oh, of course," Trying to shift her weight to look out the door, the mage winces in pain indicating she's moved too far. Resigning to needing a bit of help, she laughs painfully "I need a healing potion so I can get looking around. Happen to find any in your search?"

"Not a one, somehow." Neve sighs as she walks closer before settling at her side, and dropping her scavenged items on the side table. "However there was no shortage of lyrium." She reaches out a hand toward Rook before hesitating. "May I?"

"May you what?" Rook says uneasily as she stares at Neve's beautifully lithe hands. Her heart quickens at the thought of being at the mercy of the woman before her.

"Heal you, what else?" She chuckles.

"Strangle me," The watcher says with unwavering certainty.

"I would never ask so politely. Now relax so i can see what I'm doing please. Lean forward." Neve rests her hand on the other womans shoulder and gently guides her closer, as Rook angles her head to give her access. As she inspects the leftover bruising, Rook begins to feel a heat creeping onto her face from the closeness. Neve brings her second hand up and brushes the womans long curls out of her view. The feeling of her cold finger tips grazing her neck forces a gasp from the womans lips, letting a quiet whimper follow.

"My apologies, I'll be softer" Neve croons as her hand begins to glow. Rook doesn't correct her about the cause of the sound. The cool crackle of her magic and sensation of her fingertips ar. She allows herself to relax fully into her touch, as the mage moves her hand along the lacerations going down her back. Rook feels the other woman slide her free hand further up her shoulder, and cannot stop herself from leaning in until its nearly around her neck.

Neve lets a small laugh fall from her lips, "I said I wouldn't strangle you Rook. Not unless you ask nicely."

"I've never been a fan of being polite," Rook sighs dramatically, trying her best to regain some sense of composure as she moves away from the mage. "Oh," She mutters, as she reaches a hand to touch her newly healed body. "Well now, I think you fixed a knot that had been there since the War of Banners."

"What can I say? I'm a woman of many talents," Neve says while continuing her scavenging in the side table. Rook continues to admire her, watching the hands who's phantom touch she can still feel dancing on the back of her neck

"Well, Thank you. I look forward to seeing exactly how talented you are. I ought to get looking around," She says while confidently pulling herself to her feet. She slowly makes her way towards to door while her focus remains fixed on the woman before her.

"Well, it can't hurt now. In theory." Neve turns toward Rook once again before leaning effortlessly against the table, a crooked grin flashing across her face. "We should talk about our next move soon. Find harding when your ready. There's a table in the central area out here, I'll meet you both there"

"See you soon then," It took everything Rook had to turn around and walk away. All she could hope was that Neve was watching her leave with that gorgeous crooked smile.

[itsmeyaspider]

You are mine~

Yandere Risotto Nero x female reader x Yandere Diavolo/Doppio

Trigger warning: yandere, stalking, possessiveness, obsessive, forced kissing, drugs mentioned, cursing, blood and gore discribtion, Yandere Risotto and Diavolo are their own trigger warning

Notes: I'm back and I finally rewatched Jojo again! I can't believe how long it took me to write something for my all-time favorite Jojo characters !!! I hope you enjoy the story :D

Also a huge shoutout to my Italian friend who translated me some words<3333

It's a pleasant night in Napels, the moonlight shines in the dark alleyways and the only thing you can hear are the soft footsteps of the lost souls who are still outside. Most normal people wouldn't even think of going out at this time of night, the crimes in Italy are increasing day by day and even in the daytime you aren't safe anymore.

But none of that bothers a beautiful (h/c) haired woman, why should it? After all, she is a Capa in the well known mafia group Passione. Many people respect her, something she values very highly. Still, she doesn't like walking around Napels at this late hour, but we'll, she didn't really have a choice, the boss, who is the head of the organization, has ordered her too see him as soon as possible. This suprised her a lot, as she didn't know what he really looks like until today. She had contact with him by phone from time to time, but never ever face to face. So what the hell did he want from her?!

The woman who bears the name (Y/n), continues to walk in the direction that was directed to her. The boss is really overprotective when it comes to his identity, but she already understood that as she joined the mafia. (Y/n) changes sides of the street as she slowly and careful enters a dark alley. With a small, annoyed sigh she looks at the piece of paper with all the coordinates on it. Did she really get lost?! This can't be true...

She bites her underlip as she is about to turn back, maybe the house is in another allway. As she starts to walk again, she suddenly hears a strange noise behind her. What the hell? It's probably just a stray cat taking food out of one of the garbage cans. God, I'm so jumpy. But as she is about to leave, she is suddenly grabbed by something- no, someone. A strong, powerful grip pulls her back into this godforsaken alley.

Just as she was about to say something, she looks into ice cold, demon like black-red eyes. Her (e/c) colored eyes widen in shock, as she immediately knows which man stands before her. Risotto fucking Nero, the leader of La Squarda Esecuzioni. What is he doing here? Did he watch her?!

"What the hell are you doing here?! Let go of me, I need to-" but before the woman could continue, the stand user interrups her. "(Y/n).." His voice sounds rough, almost beastly. His gaze rests on her, like a brid trying to catch a worm and she almost notices a malicious, sadistic glint in it. "You shouldn't be here, bambola. There are a lot of dangerous people around at this time of night."

A sudden, involuntary shiver comes over her, something is strange, the way he looks at her, but above all..those words - those damn words scare her. "I-I can defend myself, no one is stupid enough to attack me." she says in an almost stuttering voice. "I don't see any of that."

The Capo's grip tightened as he pulls her closer to his muscular body. His other hand rests on her cheek as he suddenly grabs her chin and continues to force her to look into his possessive eyes. A gentle breeze blew through the alley, and everything about her wanted to run away, damn even her Stand couldn't help her right now. Not against him. "Mia. You are mine (Y/n). Do you understand that? Mine and mine alone. Since the day you joined the mafia, when you were a little fish in the water, I've watched you. And now after all these years I've been waiting for you..."

The black dressed man comes closer and closer, so close that she can feel his breath on her neck. Her (b/t) shaped body stiffens, as she is overcome by goosebumps. Surely, Risotto couldn't be serious...Is he crazy or perhaps on fucking drugs?! "Risottto, p-please let me go-." Suddenly she feels ice cold, rough lips pressing against hers, the woman tries to free herself, but the man doesn't even think about it. He puts his two hands on her hips, forcing her to hold still.

---

Meanwhile, a relatively short, pink haired man observes the whole situation. He hides behind a house wall as he glances at the woman from time to time. Anger erupts in him, how dare Risotto touch (Y/n)~chan like that?! He grinds his teeth as he suddenly hears an all too familiar sound. "Turuturu...turuturu" The man in the pink sweater looks abruptly around to see where the noise might be coming from. The boss is probably just as angry as he is- or even worse! He walks further into the the alley as he sees a banana peel lying on the ground, he picks it up as he holds it against his ear. "Boss?" He asks, only to be answered by an angry voice.

"Doppio, my sweet Doppio, make sure this filthy traitor keeps his finger off my principessa. Kill him for me."

The man called Doppio nods at his boss's words as he throws the banana peel on the ground. His light brown eyes darken as they twitch weirdly back and forth. After a little while, Doppio regains his composure as he slowly walks to the other alley where his beloved (Y/n) is being mistreated by a traitor. "You will pay for this Risotto. How dare you lay a hand on my (Y/n)!" His voice is no longer so cheerful and bright as usually, no this time it is filled with pure hatred.

The leader of the La Squadra Esecuzioni team immediately breaks away from the dominant kiss, as he licks his lips, he places the woman protectively behind him. "And who are you?!" (Y/n) no longer understands anything, first she was kissed by another Capo without her consent and now there is another man she didn't even know! What the actually fuck. The woman takes a few steps back, realizing the seriousness of the entire situation she is in. She crashes into a wall as she looks around, maybe she could find an escape route or anything to get away from this men's!!!

Doppio's eyes start to twitch again, but this time it's much worse than before, he holds his hands against his head, as he watches on the ground. His body appears slightly more muscular and much larger than before, a raspy, vicious voice can be heard. "I'm the one who will kill you. Do you think you can get away with this, Risotto? First you betray my organization and than you dare to steal my wife." The far too intensive green eyes shine with anger, how is this even possible? He clearly had brown eyes before!!!

Risotto crosses his arms as a small smile graces his lips. "So the boss is finally showing himself huh? I must have really hurt you then. But still, (Y/n) is mine, I will kill you and take over the organization myself."

The woman continues to search for a way out, unable to ignore their conversations. First it turns out that this pink Bimbo is the fucking boss himself and now he is also obsessed with her??? What the hell has she done in her whole life to end up there? Slowly she remembers the she only started out as a small drug dealer, she wanted to save some money for college. But now that she thinks about it, she has rises to the level of a Capa really quickly. Most of the people take years to climb the ladder in Passione, especially when you want to be a Capo. But she only achieve it in a few months.

'Shit! I'm an idiot!' She bites her lower lip, as she lets out a small sigh. She needs to risk everything now, the situation won't get better and she really don't want to stay any longer. The two men's are visible busy with each other and so she sneaks along the wall as inconspicuously as possible. Maybe, just maybe she will make it to the street and then her Stand could help her to escape, then she would he safe, or at least she thinks so. But before she could make another small step, she feels a sharp, unpleasant pain in her heel. A razor blade rips out of her now bleeding heel as she falls on the ground, she lets out a scream. The pain doesn't stop, it burns like hell, the red liquid slowly flows onto the stony ground.

"Where do you think you going bambola? Did I allow you to leave?" The voice of the black dressed man pulls her immediately out of her thoughts. Her now almost watery (e/c) colored eyes are filled with fear. The woman wants to say something, to tell them both to stop treating her like a piece of meat, but something inside her stops her from doing so. Is it the fear of being hurted again? Deep down she knows thar she don't stand a chance against any of them but still, she can't just do nothing! (Y/n) looks down at the ground as she really tries to get up, but before she finally manages to stand on both feet's again, she notices more blood running onto the floor then before. Suddenly she feels a strong hand on her shoulder and as she tries to look back at the two Stand Users, she realizes that the pink haired one is missing.

"(Y/n) you're not going anywhere, you will come with me." Her body immediately flinches, the dominant voice makes it clear that she has no other chance. Diavolo grabs one of her loose strands of (h/c) colored hair, as she starts to play with them. "I will kill Risotto now in front of your cute eyes and then I will take you with me. You will learn not to have such fooling thoughts ever again, otherwise I will make sure that you can never walk again."

Tears run down her cheeks as her hope slowly but surely fades away. This is madness, no matter which of these two psychopaths would win, she would get treated like an animal. She suddenly falls onto her knees as she inwardly prays for both of them to die! This couldn't be ture, this simply couldn't be. It has to be a fucked up dream, otherwise she will slowly break and will never be free again. 'I should never started selling fucking drugs.'

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

Here is a small drawing I did for this fanfiction! It's only Yandere Doppio but I really hope you like it<3