#but there are some interesting possibilities

[mrsmandalorian]

short n' sweet tour

--pedro pascal x singer!f!reader

summary: on the debut night of your arena tour, you pull out all the cheeky tricks to grab Pedro's attention while the crowd goes wild.-this fic features a tiny bit of 'Bed Chem" and the whole song of 'Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter !!

lyrical genius masterlist / main masterlist / wc:4.9K

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, p in v, hard and quick FUCK, sexual TEASING, pet names, pillow humping, dry humping, wandering hands, makeout.

a/n: the next part is finally here! thank you for all the love on this series. hope you guys enjoy this part! pls leave some feedback and let me know what you guys might be interested in seeing in the future! much love, maddie <3

The electricity from the crowd vibrates backstage as you nervously wait for your cue to run onstage. All the hard work throughout your career has led to this moment—the first concert of your North American leg of the arena tour. It started in  Staples Center in Los Angeles and concludes in Sweden next year. 

The pre-show recording starts as your team quickly helps you with your earpiece and offers words of encouragement. Take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves as you hear the team start a countdown to your entrance over the earpiece. 

“Three, two, one-go, go!” the stage manager says from behind you.

As the crowd roars, you dash onto the elaborate stage to begin the show with one of your many comedy bits, acting as if you are half-ready for the show to start, still in your sequined bath towel. You finally end up center stage to find your microphone and strip from your fake towel to a custom sparkling bodysuit with sheer sparkling tights, which causes an uproar from your fans. 

Looking into the sea of people and phones, you give your best smile and take the moment as best as possible. The tune of your first song starts as your dancers slowly come out to join you on stage. It was showtime. 

The crowd was whole of thousands of fans and familiar faces from family, friends, and celebrities. The cheers and joy in the room made all the struggles and hard work behind the music worthwhile. The impact your music has on people truly makes it all significant. You released your album, and it was a fantastic experience; it topped the charts for weeks and went viral on social media. It has undoubtedly been the best year of your life. Your career has already taken off, but the overwhelming success you've experienced in the last six months has been remarkable in more ways than one.

Your nerves disappear as you sing through the setlist and entertain your fans with your cheeky comedy bits and lovable personality. Your setlist consists of songs from your new album, older hits and gems, and karaoke from your favorite artists. Much like your most recent singles, your latest album is very sex-positive and cheeky, which sets your performance to the same tone. You were expecting a good reaction from the crowd, especially someone. 

After a few songs and the addition of a sheer robe, it was finally time for one of your more sexual songs off your album, Bed Chem, which had a very sensual tone of dance to it. The lights dim as you get into position on a retro circular bed part of your elaborate makeshift apartment stage. You position yourself seductively in the middle as you stare up at the camera above you, which will project onto the large screens for the audience. 

The song starts as you twirl your hair with a massive smirk. As you go through the first few lyrics on the set bed all by yourself, you can't help but imagine your bed chemistry with your lover, Pedro, which causes you to blush heavily. 

Your imagination halts as your dancers join you on the bed to continue the song and choreography. The canopy opens to the audience, but you have been so caught up in your performance that you haven't taken a second to look at those chocolate eyes in the audience. 

As you continue the song sensually and playfully, you are met at the edge of the bed with your dancers. Staring into the crowd to find his eyes, you meet them with a large smirk, holding them as you sing the following few lines. 

“And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time (bed chem)

And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine (bed chem)

And I bet it's even better than in my head (my, ooh).”

Your gazes hold until you give him a wink, which earns you a smirk and wink back from him. The tension between you and him burned hotter than the stage lights, igniting every inch of you—even in a room packed with thousands. You were so smitten with him as you continued your choreography with your female dancers. 

During the song's outro, the ladies leave you to dance with the guys as you kneel on the bed. One of the male dancers joins you, holding a camcorder that projects onto the screens, and he joins you on the bed. Playfully actingout a scene with him until the canopy curtain closes and your reflections show you both undress and embrace onto the bed as the lights dim to darkness. 

After the song ends, the crowd erupts, and you run backstage for your first outfit. As you change, one of your few mini videos and dancers entertain the audience. Touching up your makeup and dabbing the sweat from your brow, you quickly grab your phone to send Pedro a selfie of you winking and making a kissy face: “All for you, baby.” 

The concert flows on—another outfit change, playful banter, and electrifying moments with the crowd—all in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the thoughts of your irresistibly fine man. After an intensely emotional song, your setlist picks back up with cheerful, fun music that has gone viral for your whole tour. You walk yourself down in your long, custom, sexy dress down the catwalk of the stage as you talk with the crowd. You compliment and express your gratitude to your fans as you prepare for the next song. Before the song, your team and you have been doing a comedy bit before to give the spotlight to a fan. 

You complimented the crowd on their fabulous outfits, which you knew took them a while to pick out or make. The best part of the bit happened once your dancers joined you just off the main stage onto the catwalk. 

“Oh my, everyone, look! Who is this hottie in the front row right here?” You let out a shocked expression as you fan your face dramatically. The camera for the large screens directs the camera to the person you are referring to, who happens to be Lux Pascal. The crowd goes wild as Lux starts to blush. “ You are breathtaking! Whoever made you, God bless them. God bless their genetics.” You joke with her as you twist your hair in a fake, flirtatious way. “Um, what's your name, gorgeous?” 

The camera pans back to Lux, where she plays her part and screams, “Lux!” to you. You both laugh together. “Such a beautiful name! Our names would be perfect for us to be in a relationship together. Oh my god! My clothes just fell off thinking about us. I will have to arrest you for being too hot!” You say as your long skirt falls to reveal your shorter skirt underneath. A brief glimpse of Pedro standing beside his sisters and your friends sends the arena into a deafening uproar, the sheer volume making you giggle into the microphone.

Your dancer hands you a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs, which you give to the security guard with a wink and blow a kiss to Lux before you start to get into position for the next song, which the intro has begun. 

The dancer brought a chair for you to sit in between them to start the song. They all still wave and send Lux flirtatious signals as part of the bit. The music begins, which causes you to smirk because of the context. 

“Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing

Oh yeah, you just get it (get it)

Whole package, babe, I like the way You don'tt

God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh”

You promise yourself just one glance. Flashing him your brightest grin, your eyes meet him—and the instant connection sends a deep blush rushing to your cheeks. It remains on your face throughout the song as you continue to sing. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up”

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh)”

Your blush never fades as you pour yourself into the sultry song about your lover, every lyric a teasing confession. Your movements are sensual and playful, and the choreography pulls the audience deeper into your world. They sing along to every word, their energy electrifying, reminding you that moments like this make it all worth it.

“I showed my friends, then we high-fived (Ah-ah)

Sorry if you feel objеctified (Ah-ah)

Can't help myself; hormonеs are high

Give me more than just some butterflies”

You quickly make your way down the catwalk as you sing and dance, smiling at the sea of people around. You get right to the tip of the heart at the end of the stage and give your cheekiest smile. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

Have you ever tried this one?”

As the lyrics leave your lips, you drop to your hands and knees at the center of the heart-shaped stage, rocking your hips in a slow, sensual tease. With a playful bite of your lip and a cheeky wink to the crowd, the message is crystal clear. The arena erupts at the bold display, but you’re already back on your feet, slipping seamlessly into the next move. The cameras cut to Pedro—his head shaking, a knowing smile on his lips as he chuckles with your friends. The stage slowly rises above the crowd as you continue to sing. 

I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love

“Alright, LA, sing this next part with me at the top of your lungs!” you exclaimed to the crowd, shimmering in the air. “Let me hear every single one of you!” You seamlessly kneel and place your hand on your chest as you sing the bridge. 

“Adore me

Hold me and explore me

Mark your territory (Ah-ah)

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)

Adore me

Hold me and explore me (Ah-ah)

I'm so fuckin' horny

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”

Behind you, the screen flashes the song’s lyrics in bold, glowing letters, each word pulsing with the rhythm. As you reach the bridge, your mind drifts—those lyrics, once just melodies, now feel like a private confession, each line a tantalizing reminder of your lover. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep singing, letting the emotion seep into every note.

“(Oh, I) I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might (Might)

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love”

The concert rolls on for a few more songs, each moment more electrifying than the last. A hint of sadness creeps in as the night nears its end, but the thrill of an unforgettable show lingers. Still, excitement bubbles within you—soon, you’ll be backstage, ready to celebrate a night that was nothing short of magic.

“LA, this has been the most unforgettable night of my life. My first big tour, my first night, and I got to spend it with you. I can’t even put into words how much this means to me—how much you mean to me. Thank you for believing in me, for screaming with me, and for making this dream a reality. I’ll never forget this night… unless the adrenaline wears off and I completely black out. But seriously, I love you all more than words can say. Thank you for everything!” You express your gratitude, trying not to get too emotional about the overwhelming feeling. You gently wipe your few happy tears from your face.

You blow kisses and wave as you gracefully go backstage with your dancers. Your team is waiting for you to help take your earpiece out and celebrate with you. They all give you compliments and congratulations. If there is any criticism, they will let you know tomorrow. 

After returning to the greenroom, the energy from the performance is still buzzing through your veins, and your friends and family pour in from the audience. Laughter and praise fill the space as they hug you and gush about their favorite moments of the show. Their words warm your heart, but before you can respond to them all, a familiar touch sends a shiver up your spine.  

Strong, warm hands settle on your hips, grounding you instantly. You turn swiftly, already knowing who they belong to, and are met with Pedro’s soft, adoring smile. Before you can say a word, he pulls you into his embrace, his scent wrapping around you like a comforting haze.  

“You were incredible, baby,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride. His hands trail down the fabric of your outfit, savoring the texture beneath his fingertips. The simple gesture sends a wave of goosebumps across your skin, and you can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch.  

Still basking in the moment, you slowly pull away just enough to meet his gaze, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whisper, the connection lingering between you.  

With his presence still humming through you, you turn back to your loved ones, laughter, and conversation effortlessly filling the space once more.

As the last of your friends and family trickle out of the arena, heading off to prepare for a celebratory late dinner, you stay behind in your dressing room, savoring the moment. Pedro remains by your side, a comforting presence as you decompress from the night. The air between you crackles with unspoken energy, and it’s clear you both can’t keep your hands to yourselves.

“You were quite the tease during your set, angel,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. His warmth envelops you as you sit on the small couch, his hands exploring your body with a playful familiarity. You giggle at his words, nodding in agreement, the tension between you both palpable.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me,” he adds, his fingers dancing along your waist, drawing you closer. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that sends your heart racing. “I’d love to see your stage set.”

A rush of excitement floods through you, your smile growing as you meet his gaze. “I’d love to show you,” you say, your voice soft but laced with promise. Taking his hand, you lead him toward the stage door, the lingering buzz of the night still thick in the air. A few crew members move about, cleaning up and prepping for tomorrow’s show, but your focus is entirely on him.

Waltzing onto the stage, you gesture to the elaborate setup, walking him through the details as you chat about your performance. His hands never leave you, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin as he listens intently, slipping in jokes that send both of you into laughter.

But as you near the infamous round-shaped bed at center stage, warmth floods your cheeks. His smirk deepens. “You looked blissful the whole night,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. “But there were two moments you looked absolutely delectable.”

His lips brush your neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses that send a shiver through you. A nervous giggle escapes as you instinctively tilt your head, granting him more access. Slowly, he eases you back onto the bed, his touch growing more assured, guiding you into surrender.

That’s what you do—surrender to him. It had been weeks since your schedules aligned, since you’d had a moment like this, and you weren’t about to waste it. You let him take control, guiding your body with ease, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips capture yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

A soft whimper escapes as he presses closer, his hands trailing down the front of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “You were such a tease tonight, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and thick with amusement. His grip tightens around your thigh as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The warmth of his body and how he moves against you sends a shiver through you, the anticipation crackling between you like electricity. “I think you might have been trying to get a reaction out of me.”

His hips dip into yours as you feel his warmth glide against yours, which causes you to squeeze your legs around me. His hands wander down to your bum, and he holds you close for a moment. With one swift movement, he flips you and positions you on top of him. Gripping your ass before giving a quick slap against your behind, which causes you to let out a yelp. You bury your head into his chest because you are embarrassed by being too loud and getting caught.

He gives you two more slaps that make you whimper against him and cause him to snicker. “Two can play the game, love,” he says as he grips your hips and pushes you against his clothed member. You buck your hips to create some friction between the two of you, which makes you let out the slightest whimper in need. His hand remains on your hips as you throw your head back as you let yourself hump him against him. He enables you to ride him as his hands roam towards your breast and knead them roughly, which causes a noise of frustration to erupt out of you. The slickness in your panties makes your determined hips work furiously against his hardened member. 

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice Pedro’s smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes. He had a plan—one carefully crafted to make you pay for every playful tease, every bold move you pulled on stage.

Your breath hitched as his hands moved with deliberate slowness, his touch both gentle and commanding. “You had your fun tonight,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Now it’s my turn.”

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip for just a moment before effortlessly sliding you off his lap, the loss of his warmth sending a desperate ache through your body. His hands linger—slow, deliberate—tracing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you. Then, just as your breath catches in anticipation, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, almost reverent, yet it only leaves you craving more.

As he rises, his gaze locks onto yours, dark with satisfaction, knowing exactly what he’s done. Without another word, he strides off the stage, vanishing into the shadows, leaving you there—breathless, flushed, and utterly undone, your body still humming with the need only he can satisfy.

For a moment, you lay there, catching your breath, your mind racing. You wouldn’t let this old dog win—not yet. Your teasing wasn’t over. But damn him, he’d left behind something deeper than just a game. The ache he ignited wasn’t one to be toyed with; it demanded more than just playful taunts. It needed to be answered.

Your body still burned from his touch, every nerve alive with the memory of him. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, the soft press of his kiss on the top of your head—a contradiction of tenderness and control that made your pulse quicken.

No, this wasn’t over. But first, you had to deal with the fire he’d so effortlessly set ablaze.

And that’s just what you start to do. 

Slowly, you push yourself up, your body still humming with the aftershocks of his touch. A quick glance around confirms what you already suspected—the crew has cleared out for the evening, leaving the stage bathed in dim, moody light, the perfect setting for what you’re about to do.  

A wicked smirk tugs at your lips as anticipation curls low in your stomach. If he thought he could leave you like this, aching and undone, he had another thing coming. This wasn’t just about need; it was about control and claiming the upper hand. And what better way than here, on his stage, where every move was meant to captivate an audience?  

Especially when that audience was him.  

With a slow, deliberate breath, you step back onto the fluffy pillow-covered bed, already imagining the look on his face when he realizes just what kind of show you’re about to put on.

You glance across the bed, your eyes drifting over the pleasurable options laid before you, each a temptation, a promise. The sight alone tugs you back to past nights, to the moments when distance kept you apart but never truly separated. You’ve performed this wicked little act for him before, in the privacy of your own home, a sinful display meant only for his eyes—his voice in your ear, coaxing, commanding, praising.

But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, this is your stage. Your domain.

The empty venue hums with silence, the stage lights casting a soft glow, illuminating the space where you captivate crowds with every note you sing. But now, there’s only one audience member you care about. He thinks he’s won, leaving you breathless and aching, but you smirk to yourself—this game is far from over. 

Your hands find the subject to your pleasure, which happens to be the firmest and fluffiest pillow on the bed. You mount the pillow as you had just previously mounted your lover. Your determined hips start at work again, creating your own friction against the softness of the pillow against your soaked panties. You couldn't hold back your soft moans as you rode in a familiar rhythm. 

Caught up in your own pleasure, you barely registered the weight of unseen eyes on you—though deep down, you felt it. That familiar heat, that electric prickle along your skin, warning you that you weren’t alone. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.  

The game, the teasing, the push and pull—it all faded into something raw, something uncontrollable. You weren’t performing anymore. This wasn’t for show. This was need, pure and aching, a fire burning too hot to be tamed.  

Your breath hitched, your body surrendering to the moment, lost in sensation, in the hunger that refused to be ignored. And somewhere, hidden in the shadows, he watched. Silent. Waiting. Taking in every movement, every sound, every unguarded moment of you unraveling before him.

Before you knew it, rough, familiar hands were on you—firm, possessive, claiming what had always been his. A sharp gasp slipped from your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. You had been so close, teetering on the edge, almost lost in your own pleasure, only to have him interrupt just as you were about to tip over.

But even through the frustration, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

His touch and presence were precisely what you had been craving all along. The heat of his body pressed against yours, the unmistakable dominance in his grip, the way his breath fanned hot against your skin. He had been watching, waiting, letting you think you had control. But now, he was done watching.

His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction. "Did you really think I'd let you finish without me?" His fingers tightened, his body caging you in, making it clear—you weren’t going anywhere. "You put on quite the show, sweetheart… but now, it’s my turn."

Hands worked quickly, rough and unyielding, as he maneuvered you with ease—his strength undeniable, his intent unmistakable. Before you could catch your breath, you found yourself in the position you had so proudly displayed in your performance tonight, the one meant to tease, torment, and tempt him beyond reason.  

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, his grip firm as he held you there, ensuring you understood exactly what would happen. His lips barely grazed your skin, his breath hot and taunting. "You wanted my attention, didn’t you?" he murmured, his voice laced with hunger. "Now you have it. Let’s see if you can handle what you’ve been begging for."

His boldness caught you off guard as you felt your slickness become bare, and the sound of pants unzipping rang through your ears. Before you knew it, his thickness probed at your walls, determined to finish what you both had started. His fingers make quick work to find your bundle of nerves, forcing you to moan deeply into the pillows. 

His hands gripped your hips firmly, but his eyes flickered to the pillow beneath you—still damp with your wetness, carrying the intoxicating scent of your need. The sight of it, the evidence of just how lost you had been in your own pleasure before he caught you, sent a dark, satisfied smirk across his lips.

"Look at this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his fingers ghosted over the damp fabric. "You were really putting on a show for me, weren’t you?"

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his hands worked quickly, positioning you exactly how you had so boldly displayed yourself during your performance. "But now that I’m here," he continued, voice dripping with wicked promise, "let’s see if you can handle what you were begging for."

His promise was quickly answered as his hips brutally thrust into trying to relieve his ache of desire as well as yours. All at once, his thrust and fingers worked you up to mold effortlessly beneath his movements. You were moaning and gripping onto the fuzzy bed before you knew it. You heard his groans as you both were about to finish in sync. There was no more game at play, so you relinquished it and rode out your high together as he moaned heavily into your ear. His heavy moans are replaced with deep gasps from exhaustion, which match yours, and an adoring smirk on both of your faces. 

"I guess this means the war is over," you murmur, your breath still uneven as he eases away gently, cleaning himself off with slow, deliberate movements.

He exhales a quiet chuckle, his smirk softened but still present. "Maybe," he muses, casting you a knowing glance. "Or maybe we just found a new way to fight."

His fingers trail over your skin one last time before he leans back, watching you with the kind of satisfaction that promises—truce or not—this was far from the end.

In quick motion, he finds your discarded panties, using them to clean the two of you the best for the situation. He leaves kisses down your body as he does so, being the gentle lover again. He might fuck hard, but he is always a gentleman in the end (literally). 

The two of you return to your dressing room, the air still warm with the remnants of what just transpired. There’s a quiet intimacy in how he lingers, watching as you slip into something more comfortable, his hands occasionally brushing against you in small, affectionate gestures.  

You take a moment to clean up, smooth your hair, and touch up your makeup while he stands behind you, his presence steady and familiar. Every now and then, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, a silent reminder of just how deeply he adores you.  

Falling into your usual rhythm, the playful teasing and gentle touches return, the two of you wrapped in the sweet comfort of each other. As he helps you fasten a necklace, his fingers grazing your skin, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Ready, beautiful?"

With one last glance at yourselves, you take his hand, feeling nothing but warmth as you step out together, heading off to meet your loved ones for a late dinner—still lost in the afterglow of the night and of each other.  

As you settle into the car, the city lights flickering past the windows, he suddenly turns to you with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. “I do have a question: why are all the songs you write about me pertaining to  sex?” 

You roll your eyes, laughing as you shove his arm playfully. "Oh, shut up and drive." 

His chuckle fills the space between you, the perfect sound to end a perfect night.

[gallusrostromegalus]

What kind of deck would Kenpachi use for duel monsters?

Zaraki is the kind of guy who will hunt down Bakura and (gently (for Zaraki )) shake him until he does whatever the trick was that he heard about was that would turn him into a card so he could fight Exodia on foot, like the gods intended.

As for other people, because it's funny to contemplate:

Ichigo: Bad at card games, collects his deck 100% based on how much he likes the card art, inexplicably manages to make something remarkably functional, even if he nearly times out a dozen times because I'm he's reading the text on every card he draws.

Rukia: Melffys.

Chad: also Melffys

Uryuu: Understands how to run a functional deck with pendulum summoning. Cannot explain it to anyone else.

Mizuiro: Has a deck because he and Mokuba are casual acquaintances and the economics of Kaibacorp fascinate him. Plays much more competently than he thinks he does.

Keigo: plays Digimon.

Orihime: Has actually known and been online friends with Tea Gardner for longer than she's known Ichigo, because the former Los Osaka High Schooler and Now Prima Ballerina is the OTHER S-ranked Fairy Deck Player in Duel Monsters Online.

---

Gotei-13:

Duel Monsters has migrated to Soul Society via Reverse London, but only some members of the Gotei-13 know of the game, let alone play with any competence.

Mayuri likes the card art and has casually attempted to re-create some of those monsters in the flesh because he was bored.

Hitsugaya thinks it's "so lame" but if you ask him why it's lame he has remarkably well-informed opinions about the game design that could only have come from getting WAAAAY too into it at one point.

Gin played duel monsters online briefly until Aizen took an interest, because the concept of matching wits with a total stranger who couldn't see him either intrigued him. Gin taught him the basics, (these are the three scores that matter, the rest is conditions creation, you'll love it-!) and released him into the forums. Tousen enjoyed a nice three-month vacation as Aizen got addicted to online play until he entered an unranked tournament and got wasted in two turns by someone with a bunch of twee little fairies in the first round. Threw an enormous temper tantrum about it and forbade anyone, especially Gin who made it to the semi-finals, from ever mentioning the game again

Byakuya, the universal expert on all things Ambassador Wakame, took an interest in the game because he recognized the Kaibacorp Logo on a card Rukia had. There is very little Wakame Ambassador Merch in soul society because it's actually a Living World IP, and Byakuya had noted that the company that owned all things Wakame Ambassador had been purchased by Kaibacorp. He asks Rukia, who tells him all about Duel Monsters, and that there is an entire Kaibaland Theme Park a few cities over from where she was deployed in the living world.

"...would it be possible to contact this Seto Kaibacorp?" Byakuya frowns into the middle distance.

A week later, Rukia unexpectedly opens a gate into Ichigo's Bedroom at 2AM.

"Not directly but anybody can write to his company and the message might get passed along- like how Rikichi sorts all the mail addresses to you that gets sent to the sixth." Rukia shrugs. "You'd need a return address in the living world for him to write back though."

-

"Gah!" She yelps.

"THIS IS WHY YOU CALL AND WAIT FOR PERMISSION TO COME OVER!" Ichigo, home from undergrad for the week, growls at her.

"Hi Miss Rukia!" Orihime waves from on top of Ichigo, not bothering to get dressed.

"Uh, um- congratulations?" Rukia mumbles, covering her face.

"What happened now?" Ichigo groaned, reaching for his pants.

"My bro- Captain Kuchiki requests your assistance in delivering a message to a human in the living world!" She stammers, thrusting the message in his general direction.

"Rukia I don't think this will go through the postal system..." Orihime mutters taking it from her instead of putting on clothes or moving from her position on top of Ichigo.

"What? I thought we put enough stamps on it-? Gah! Please put on a shirt!" Rukia yelps.

"Rukia you know what boobs are." Orihime mutters, studying the missive. "I'll just put this in a box and mail it to them in the morning, okay?"

"Yeah! Sure! Fine!" Rukia sputters, reopening the gate as fast as she can.

"REMEMBER TO CALL NEXT TIME!" Ichigo hollers after her.

-

The Brothers Kaiba stared at the message.

"I'd say it looks like someone tried to mail me from the Meji Era but I've had enough of time-travelling bourgeoisie for one lifetime." Seto grumbled.

"That's not what you were saying last night!" Atem teased from over the video call.

"I mean, if I'm doing the calculations right, and he really is offering to pay us in bullion, that's like... Ten times what the Wakame Ambassador IP is worth." Mokuba frowned at the figures laid out in neat but archaic handwriting on the medieval-looking scroll that arrived in a box, but covered with postage from six different countries inside.

"...when do you get back again?" Seto glared at Atem through the call.

"Not until June, my impatient lord of dragons." Atem smirked.

"...fuck it, let's meet this guy." Seto decided. "He can't be any weirder than everyone else I know."

-

Lord Byakuya Kuchiki was, in fact, on par with, if not actually over the median level of weirdness in Seto's circle of tolerated people.

He really did look and speak like he'd stepped out of a time machine from the late 1800's and was, indeed, completely up front and honest about purchasing the rights to Wakame Ambassador and any merchandise Kaibacorp had, with a chest full of gold bullion.

Unlike most of Seto's acquaintances-with-benefits, Lord Kuchiki was polite, addressed him with a proper level of respect, perfectly straightforward in his request and even explained that he knew he was over-paying, but he'd been on the wrong side of copyright law before, and at least some of this was overvaluing the property as insurance that someone wouldn't attempt to buy it out from under him.

"...Alright, we have a deal." Seto smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I have to ask though- why Wakame Ambassador, of all things?"

"Why the Blue Eyes White Dragon?" He gestured to the office's distinct decoration with a knowing smile. "There is no shame here- if anything, I admire the boldness with which you live your truth."

Seto squinted at him for a long moment, before slowly cracking a smile. "Alright- you tell me about Wakame Ambassador and I'll tell you about her."

-

"Unbelievable." Mokuba gaped.

"I didn't know it was possible." Muttered Rukia.

The two dark-haired, diminutive siblings of more famous older brothers regarded each other for a moment.

"Does. Does yours not talk either?" Mokuba asked, pointing into the office where Kaiba and Kuchiki had been excitedly discussing something non-stop for the better part of three hours.

"I'm lucky if I can get a dozen words out of him a week." Rukia gawked. "He. He doesn't smile like that either? What the hell??"

"Seto smiles, but it's usually a threat- I. I don't think I've ever seen him this chill before..." Mokuba marveled at the scene before them.

"Do we... Leave them to it?" Rukia muttered.

"We'll never get on any of the rides at this rate." Grumbled Karin, who had heard the words "roller coaster park" and elbowed Ichigo in the stomach to take the job of escorting the Kuchiki siblings to Kaibaland from him. "Yuzu?"

Yuzu, who had been drafted into the expedition because she could actually make sense of the high-speed rail system, closed the book she'd been reading with a sigh and stuck her head in the door.

"Mr. Kuchiki? I'm sorry to interrupt, but we left so early I didn't get to eat breakfast, and it's past lunchtime now..." She said, giving the highly manipulatable shinigami her best Precious Moments Figurine face.

"Huh?" Kaiba blinked, then look down at the clock on his desk. "...How is it one thirty?"

Kuchiki looked at something that might have been a cell phone or a large beetle. Seto had learned to stop asking those questions. "Good heavens, you must be starving! Is there a commissary or..?"

"No way, we've got a food expo going on at the Astrodome. They can have whatever they want, on me." Seto shook his head, getting up and waving for them to follow.

"What the FUCK?" Mokuba whispered.

"Oh wow!" Rukia gasped, eyes sparkling "-do you think there will be carrot cake?"

"-So tell me about this Agents Of Nori filler arc," Seto said with genuine fascination as the two men walked down the hall, leaving bewildered siblings in their wake.

-

Yugi frowned at the latest Duel Monsters expansion with concern for the better part of ten minutes before slowly looking up at Mokuba on the other side of the living room "...I feel like I missed something important."

"What?" Mokuba blinked, looking up from his CapMon spreadsheets. "Oh, yeah. Seto made a friend who got him into this bizarre old cartoon, so now there's a line of cards based on the IP. I think it's a birthday present because the guy got some author to write up a novelisation of the new Blue Eyes canon for his."

Yugi stared blankly at Mokuba.

"Seto."

"Yes."

"...Made a friend?"

"Yyyyyyep."

"...on his own? Organically?"

"Believe it or not, Seto does pay attention to your friendship speeches." Mokuba glared.

"...I'm. I'm glad? I just can't get my head around it. What did he DO?" Yugi glared.

"...It's not so much that Seto did anything so much as Mr. Kuchiki is a very similar type and degree of fucking weirdo Seto is, and due to your good influence, Seto didn't immediately panic about that and... They just kind of..." Mokuba pursed his lips, trying to think of a word, and instead interlaced his fingers. "-meshed. Like gears."

Yugi's stare went from blank befuddlement to Great fear "I cannot overstate how alarming the concept of Two Setos is. We did that once, and the universe almost ended."

"Nah, it's fine.- if anything, he's a good example." Mokuba waved. "Kuchiki has an even bigger and more proactive cadre of friends that follow him around and holler if he misbehaves, so he's a lot more domesticated than Seto is."

Yugi sat on the couch, trying to imagine a less feral Seto, and could feel himself getting a headache.

"Kuchiki also looks and acts like he stepped fresh out of the Heian-era imperial court scene." Mokuba added.

"THERE IT IS!" Yugi sighed with relief.

[sparklystarrrr]

Hopelessly Devoted to You

Synopsis: Riddle thinks you're cheating on him and decides to confront you.

Contains: Hurt to comfort and lotssss of fluffiness (Riddle crying makes me cry), Riddle x Fem!Reader, this is kinda long so beware!!

⊰᯽⊱┈─❊✙❊─┈⊰᯽⊱

It had been a particularly stressful day in Heartslabyul. With the Adeuce duo running around causing mayhem and the dorm members simply just being pains to deal with, plus Floyd finding him somehow in every hallway possible making Riddle run around all day, the poor boy was stressed to the heavens. After this long day of torture he was very excited to come back to his dorm, have a good book, and spend his free time with you. Oh, how he missed his girl, his rose. After this long day, all he needed was you.

Once he arrived back at his dorm he looked aimlessly through the large bookshelf on his wall. He's read basically every book in his shelf already so finding a new one would be a bit of a struggle. Luckily for him, he was up to the challenge. His grey eyes scanned up and down until he noticed a book that had not been there before. It was a white leather book with thin gold writing that spelled out "Diary". Hm... how curious. He flipped open to the first page and saw that your name was written on it. (Y/n) (L/n)... His eyes softened and a gentle smile formed on his face as his fingers traced your name in red ink on the lined page. This would certainly be a book he would be interested in reading.

He sat at his desk and set his blazer to hang on his chair. He got himself comfortable there to read all the thoughts his sweet lover had. Although now that he thought about it, maybe he should ask you first? Well, he couldn't possibly ask you now since you're in a lecture currently. You wouldn't mind... he's sure of it, or maybe that's just the temptation he has to read this book that's all about you and what goes on in that mind of yours. It felt wrong, but his hands flipped to the next page, then the page after that, and the one after, and then slowly but surely he'd made his way through the book.

He felt a sharp pain in his chest. In the book you had written about your time at school and with your friends but not one page had been about him.... A large majority of said book had been all about some other man...

According to your diary, this man was tall, he had "pretty eyes", he had some mood swings but you seemed to love them, and a warm embrace. You wrote about him every day. About how his eyes shined whenever he saw you. About how he was such a gentleman and protected you at any cost. How his mood swings were easy to calm with a hug or kiss. You knew how stressed this man was and on the daily and did everything you could to help him relax like making his favorite foods and spoil him with cuddles whenever you weren't too busy. His heart hurt terribly.

The girl he loved the most in this twisted world was sharing her affection with this mysterious man while being with him? You did all of this with him, made him feel like the most special man in the world, just for you to go and do the same thing for some boy. His throat began to feel tight like there was some force suffocating him. There was a heaviness in his chest that began to feel painful. The book was shut with force that couldn't be described as anger, but only hurt.

He was so lost in thoughts running wildly through his mind that he didn't hear the heels walking towards his door that belonged to none other than you. While opening the door, you heard the screeching of a chair being dragged across the floor with force. You looked in, concerned about what was going on with Riddle."Riddle? What's wro-" Before your sentence could finish, he pointed an accusing finger at you. "You... You've cheated! After all we've been through? I loved you to my hearts content (Y/n)! I changed for you, all for you to destroy me behind my back and leave me with nothing. Have you no shame?!" He yelled as if it was word vomit. His chest heaved and his hands shook, his face quickly turning that angry red.

Your startled form quickly stiffened at the sudden screaming and you shut the door. "Riddle, what nonsense is that?!" You yelled back in shock of the accusation." Tears nearly pricked your eyes. This wouldn't be the end of you two, right? This is all a misunderstanding, you've been devoted to the man you love, Riddle, for the longest time. You'd never cheat on such a lovely man. You held out your phone. "Check anything you'd like, even my mail, I can assure you that I've not cheated Riddle!" It was a plea for him to believe your word. Out of anyone in this situation he simply had to believe you. You two have known each other for years and this couldn't all end because of a misunderstanding.

He brushed off looking at your phone or mail for that matter. "That doesn't matter one bit! What are you going to say about what I found over there?!" He quickly pointed to the bookshelf. You immediately knew what he was insinuating. The diary you kept in the bookshelf of his room. It was only there because you enjoyed writing things in his room, it felt like a great place to focus and write your feelings out. Most entries were about Riddle and some school matters. It seemed as though he went through it, thinking all the entries that had been devoted to him were about some other boy..?

"Riddle, had you gone through my diary? The white book I keep on that shelf?" You weren't particularly mad or anything, just a bit confused. He turned to his desk and aggressively grabbed the book. It was indeed your diary. "Of course I did, what other way was I supposed to catch you in this affair?" His voice cracked a bit and his fingers clawed into the leather of the book. You sighed. 'He is aware my heart belongs to him, right?' You thought."Dear, what other boy would I be writing about?" Responding as gently as possible without showing how shaken up you were about this whole situation.

Riddle paused for a moment seeming to be lost in thought. "Floyd... possibly?"He responded, tone turning somewhat unsure. Now that he heard it out loud, it really didn't make much sense to him. "Riddle, did you read all the entries about me professing my love to a man I'm deeply in love with? Is that what this is about?" You made your way towards him and to flip through the pages to see what he was looking at. He nodded his head in response, keeping his eyes straight ahead to avoid eye contact with you. "Every single one..."

Once you reached him and looked over his shoulder, there was a page laid out that you knew all too well. It was a page you wrote while Riddle had been asleep in your lap after a long day of dealing with unruly students, confessing all the fleeting things you truly felt about him. You smiled gently against his shoulder while reading the entry back to yourself, knowing you truly meant it all. You looked up at him with a delicate smile and shining (e/c) eyes. "These are about you, Dear..."You slowly hugged his side, hoping to cheer him up.

Riddle felt a pang of shame wash over him once he heard your words. It was then he realized the huge misunderstanding; accusing you of cheating on him though he should've known better. He sighed and leaned into your touch, eyes shutting,"...I'm sorry.. I didn't even stop to think- I'm so deeply sorry..." He mumbled out while looking away in shame. "... No need to apologize, I understand that my entries were not clear, but in my defense I didn't expect you to read them. Had I known, I would've written your name in bold, red ink." You let his head rest on your shoulder and held it there gently, playing with his soft red hair.

He relaxed into your touch and hooked an arm around your waist, the sound of your voice and the feeling of your hand in his hair being soothing after the stressful events that occurred during this long day. He exhaled softly before speaking,"I should've asked you first... Instead of just going through your diary. That was completely out of line..." His deflated voice spoke. "Yes, maybe you should've, but I don't mind. What's mine is yours and the other way around. We don't need to hide anything from each other. But please do tell me next time so we discuss it properly." You grabbed the book out of his hands and tossed it onto the ground, then holding him closer.

Riddle sighed, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Your words and actions slowly began to ease his worries. "Yes, I suppose that would be best." He replied quietly, his grip on your waist was firm yet gentle. He could feel the tension in his body slowly melt away, replaced by a sense of comfort and security in your embrace. "But... I can't help but be afraid... that one day, you'll grow tired of me.. and leave me for someone else.."

You heard that crack in his voice once more, you knew how much it hurt him to believe that your devotion had gone to some mysterious man. You would make sure that that thought would never cross his mind again. "Riddle, my love... I will never leave you. That's a promise I will never go back on. I've been left by many people and I've left a couple of people too, but you and I will never be separated. I will always be here." You kissed the top of his head and rubbed your fingers in circles on his back.

He tightened his hold on you as a wave of overwhelming emotions washed over him. He never knew how much he needed to hear those words, to know that he was truly loved and wanted by someone, and that someone being you. For the first time he felt a sense of security. His chest felt heavy again, but not with hurt, with true love. "You... you promise that you'll never leave me?" He asked. His voice coming out small and vulnerable. He needed to hear you say it again, to know that he was not just something temporary to you. "I promise that... I will never leave your side." You said with confidence and kissed the top of his head once more.

Small sniffles were heard from the red haired boy as he held on as tight as he could. You slowly helped him walk over to sit on the edge of his plush bed. His hands still held onto you as if you'd disappear if he didn't. His head rested against your chest, calming himself to the sound of your heart beating. He hated how he was acting and how vulnerable he was in this moment, but he couldn't help it. He needed you like he needed oxygen. He needed to feel your touch, your warmth, your comfort, to know that you were really there with him, that you weren't going to leave him alone. It was his first time really feeling truly loved and cared for and he couldn't just let you slip from his hands.

"Hey Riddle, wanna know something?" You said with a cheeky smile, thinking of a little idea to cheer him up. He looked up from your chest curiously with his sparkly eyes slightly red and puffy. His brow arched in confusion and he hummed a small "Hm?" while looking up at you.

You pressed a soft, warm kiss onto his forehead, cheeks, nose and lastly his lips, leaving small red lipstick marks where you kissed him. "I love you." His cheeks and the tips of his ears turned a bright pink and he seemed to be getting a bit shy at the sudden warm affection. His straight laced lips curled into a smile, his eyes glistening a little more too. "I love you too, my rose." And with that, a soft kiss on the lips was shared between the two of you, preparing for an evening full of warm and reassuring affection.<33

⊰᯽⊱┈─❊✙❊─┈⊰᯽⊱

Sorry for how long it is, I love Riddle I wanna protect him with my life(or squeeze him until he pops)<3

[aceofdumbass]

Okay, I might be biased, bc 1) psychology is my special interest 2) I study this field 3) I am fucking poor as fuck, and not long ago it was the kind that makes you unsure if you will be able to put food on the table tommorow

BUT

I honest to God can't remember being old enough to know what stress means and not knowing that being poor (or in prolonged stressful situation really) will quicken your death.

Is this really something that most ppl don't realize?

If you pay 50% of your income for place to live (and that usually means your income isn't this high - unless you live in some fancy place, possibly?) that means you have only this remaining half to cover food, medicine and healthcare, cleaning products - and having to possibly skimp on those categories is obviously dangerous.

If you are lower income person, you probably can't afford to take too many sick days - with current economy employers often prefer to fire people they find to be not so important, and, while not always, most low income jobs are ones you don't need to have much education or experience. Maybe to do it well, but who is gonna care if their barista/cashier/storage worker does things properly when faced with thousands of them? CEO of Starbucks? Walmart? Amazon? On the other hand, being absent from work is clear data, no analysis needed. But this is not about job situation now - it's about stability, which is inherently needed for humans to feel secure and safe.

And so, this is also one more point for healthcare being obstructed. I went to work, (in fucking museum reception!!!! In place where I talk to ppl and pass them things constantly!!!) with covid and 38,5°C body temperature right after they took back lockdown in my country bc I really fucking needed that work and my boss thought that wearing mask is enough.

Guess what, got fired anyway. Probably ppl from other desks complained about sick worker...

Point is, no rest for the wicked - or poor in this case. Many ppl will not stop dragging themselves to work unless ambulance has to pick them up. Huge part of those would have to first have a good soul call the ambulance for them after they passed out or something, bc the possibility hospital will tell them to stay for few days (and consequently, not be at work) is not worth it for them. Long live human rights!

Now, imagine it's a family household. Maybe two ppl and a child, a unit every country pushes for to get that sweet sweet "we are not dying out as a nation" marker. Two adults have low income jobs, and kid needs to go to school or preschool or whatever. Now those adults will have to decide, each time more than one of them is sick (or god forbid have more and more normal recently permanent illnesses) if they can afford all the doctors, all the medicine, all the sick days, who takes care of who... - if there is enough for all of it, or maybe they need to cut dow or something. Does their child go to doctor with a fever or maybe the father doesn't take his diabetes medication this month?

Fuck this life, but what can you do? Surely it will get better someday...

And then there are young ppl, who nowadays actually almost always have to borrow money to be able to get a house or flat. If you want to stabilize, not pay extra money for renting out or get rid of crazy landlord - prepare to be eternal slave to some bank, and to be hounded down like a criminal if you are late with few monthly payments. I would know, what with all the loans I took out for my parents as a very stupid 18 years old.

Yeah, getting screwed over by closest ones is a thing too. If you are poor as fuck, chances are, they are too, or you don't keep in touch or you have to observe how much their life is better - or you live with constant knowledge you are going to be forever indebted to them for their kindness. All wonderful situations, and I can mark each of them - what stupid prize will we get for full marks in this test? Ah yes, the top ones include depression (more medical bills), going to jail for desperate measures, and booking it out of here express way - maybe making a headline in newspaper about ppl not managing the pressure in extreme situations (and extreme is not something objective, mind you). Miserable.

Even if you aren't this bad off, jealousy and comparing and feeling inferior (and money is a sign of success right????) doesn't feel fine. Feels fucking awful, in truth.

Not having stability is fucking stressful. Pressure is fucking stressful. Having to make decisions that can hurt your closed ones is stressful! Do you know what our bodies do when we are stressed? NOT VERY MUCH RIGHT. Our hearts beat too fast, and get used up too much too quickly. Our hormonal balance flies into the sky with how much adrenaline we have and how little of serotonin and other good things are produced. We start having problems with being able to absorb vitamins and such. Consequently, the immune system gets weaker, we fall sick easier. Our memory may fail us. Deep sleep is hard to achieve, rest doesn't really "rest" us. Our body tries to switch all resources to get away from danger, at the cost of it's normal functions - but this danger is not what our instincts we made against, so many of those are useless. There are probably other things that happen which I don't know of or don't remember at this moment.

And after some time, our brain gets used to it. Now NOT being stressed is ALSO suspicious, a reason to be stressed about! Congratulations, humanity! Achievement unlocked: Anxiety Disorders! Wheeeey...

That thing five years ago that you sometimes remember and want to self-combust because of? Guess what, it's your body going "we are stressed. Danger. We need to fuck off asap. Quickly, think. Oh, long ago we were also stressed=danger, but we lived! Surely there is a way to avoid this danger too somewhere in this memory!". And now, it's going to happen ALL the fucking time. When you are on a date. When getting to work. When brushing teeth.

You started hyperventilating before job interview and look like unstable mess during? Well, danger, you know. Gotta dash, horta have enough oxygen for that, make that blood flow. Diarrhoea (or the opposite) before meeting with important client? There is a chance your body tried to make you lighter to get away easier, or maybe get the predator to leave, like a skunk. Or possibly, brain figured out it really isn't a time to go to bathroom so we are gonna stop that for next half a week till this sudden random pain makes you wish you were dead when you actually can't physically not go. Might be other reasons, of course, but stress can and sometimes will induce those responses. Ones, which may very well induce even more stress - for whatever you fuck up because of them or for your health (which really can't detonate right now, bc you don't have enough left for doctor visit from this month's paycheck, and no sick days left!).

This fun train is on express course for a crash - and you just saw conductor throwing out the brakes through the window. Delightful. Wanna buy that overpriced chocolate cake or coffee for 20 bucks to eat through the stress?

The long and short of it: little money means stress. Stress means you need to pay more money to be able to live on. Pressure means stress. See the pattern?

And even if you are the chillest person out there, if you break a leg and can't get yourself treated, you might lose job, go hungry, get some infection in it and die way quicker than you would without it. You will just be slightly less bothered about it, I guess.

Welcome to the world, where everything is for money, and you get those through luck (uncertain), slaving away (uncertain) or human life protection (uncertain) or social help (uncertain).

And no shit, did researchers really say that people die quicker if they are rid of half their income? Wow.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I can’t wait to see the next part for passion for fashion! i’m very interested in seeing how Tim handles everything.

Danny scurries across the street as quickly as possible. The flashing hand is counting down, meaning he only has a few seconds before clearing the road. He could wait for the next time it changes, but Danny was already late as it was.

Plus, he was pretty sure he was being followed. Usually, that wouldn't frighten him too severely, but seeing as he had been kidnapped once while in Gotham, it's safe to say this city wasn't exactly safe at all.

He manages to get across just as the light switches from the flashing red hand to a still red hand, and the cars waiting just as impatiently at the white lines roar their engines as soon as green in front of them.

They zoom past him, blaring through the wind at what Danny is sure is unsafe driving speeds. He sighs, pulling up his hood to protect his head from the gentle drizzle that started up. Today he was wearing what Dan called "sports luxe."

Danny thinks it just looked like a skater threw on a jacket over a hoodie, but what did he know? Apparently, not enough to have an opinion on the superiority of sports luxe.

Even the name sounded snobby. Dan threw a fit the moment he pointed it out, though. Sometimes, it was better to agree to disagree with his counterpart.

Danny had felt suffocated within the house lately. Gotham seemed to suddenly develop non-stop rain. It's been heavy rain, a light sprinkle, or threatening rain for a week straight. It was nothing compared to the bright, clear skies of home. How could people stand to live here all the time? It was downright miserable.

The city natives said it was just the first signs of spring, the year's rainy season.

Not to mention, it was a grim reminder that for all the time they had been in this stupid city, they only recently found out who Batman was. He wasn't sure how long Clockwork would be willing to wait, but Danny feared they were getting near an unmentioned deadline.

This morning, he had woken to a clock ticking in his chest. It faded after a while, but Danny had received the message just as loud and clear as the tick tick tick sound was.

There was a very real bomb fused to his core by the God of Time, and he said god was becoming upset with his lack of results. Dan, who had gotten the same message, was seemingly more reserved as he carefully pinned the few fabrics for their next part of the fashion contest.

The silence following their discussion of today's new experimental fashion style had felt choking. Danny had chosen to escape and walk around the city while Dan retreated further into his cave of fabrics. They agreed to meet up for lunch at one pm at the same pizza that Red Robin took him on a date to.

They could gather clues about Batman if they went to where he had shown up.

His date with Tim Drake had been a bust. The man was sweet but seemed too loyal to Batman's secrets. No matter what tricks Danny tried on that date, Tim danced around his probing for any Batman intel like a well-trained ballerina.

He couldn't even get the guy to admit he knew Batman. Either he was the best actor in the world, or Tim didn't know a thing about Batman. Still, the date at the arcade and then dinner had been a relaxing bit of fun.

Something was charming about making someone blush with a mere glance that had Danny feeling on cloud nine. He knows on some level that he is considered hot here, but to witness his effect on someone was something entirely else.

He might have asked for a second date were it not for the man who followed them throughout the date from a distance. Danny noticed him sometime after Tim had shyly offered to buy him some ice cream.

He was taking their picture. As soon as Danny saw him,, he cut the date off quickly. Not only was ita a waste of time if Tim couldn't lead him to Batman, but he also didn't want to drag poor Tim into nanother kidnapping attempt.

Was it a jerk move to cut the date mid-way? Probably.

Did it make him feel like Dash? Uncomfortably so.

But needs most. As soon as Dany told Tim he wasn't feeling well and that he would call him (he didn't), the half had all but run away. The man had quickly followed in step with him, until Danny lost him in the city two hours later.

He returned home with no leads, a new stalker, and the terrier tick tick tick echoing in his rib cage.

Three days later, the same man was back, following Danny from a distance. He was doing a good job staying further away today, but Danny had caught sight of the hummingbird tattoo and realized who it was.

Danny glances at a nearby store window to discreetly check behind him. Sure enough, the same hummingbird flashed briefly as the man reached up to raise his own hoodie.

It's on the right hand, running along the thumb. Danny breathes through his nose, walking as casually as possible but putting more speed into his steps. Around him, people are walking briskly, and his vision is somewhat disorientated by the few umbrellas that are folded open.

He slides through gaps of people, weaving and waving as casually as he can. The distance between the man and him grew bigger, but Danny knew he was still within sight.

He stuffs his hands into his pocket, feeling around for a knife disguised as a comb that Pamela had given him after picking up her new outfit. Danny had to admit that Dan outdid himself with it because she looked like a badass nymph.

Apparently, she heard some whispers that the Fenton twins were a thing of beauty and powerful men were interested in adding them to their collection. Ew.

She said it was better to be safe than sorry while presenting Dan with his own knife. "The world is a nightmare. Be the terror in it, not the victim."

Dan put her words on a poster and hung it in his studio.

Danny glances at another window, feeling his stomach drop when a familiar ticking starts up as the man quickly closes the space between. Somehow, a deep part of his soul knows that should the man catch him, Danny's bomb would be set off.

Breaking into a run, Danny pushed people out of the way, uncaring for the scene he was causing. He heard a curse before footsteps rapidly followed him. Multiple sets of footsteps.

There was more than one.

Crude. crude. crude. Stop ticking! I know I'm in danger! He thinks frantically, pushing his human legs to go faster. He blows his hoodie off his head as he sprints.

His eyes bounce around wildly, searching for anywhere safe, when he lands on an open car door of a nice black car with a man settling in the back as a diver buckles up. Not stopping to think, Danny leaps into it, ignoring the shout of surprise from the man who he landed across the lap.

He hits the diver's seat, babbling, "Drive! Drive! Drive! Please, they're after me! DRIVE"

The man he's lying on reacts fast enough to slam the car door closed just as a large man slams against it. It's someone built like a brick house and looking rather mean as he punched the glass.

Thankfully, the thing must be bulletproof because it doesn't budge. The driver slams his foot on the grass, peeling away from the crowd of kidnappers who attempt to surround the crowd. They nearly miss slamming into oncoming traffic, but the driver quickly drifts their car into a perfect U and flies off.

Danny gasps, slumping with relief. "Hate this stupid city so much sometimes." He grumbles under his breath, only noticing he spoke in Spanish when the man makes a fumbling.

"Er...espanol...un poquito?" The man holds his fingers up, having them separated by only a bit of space.

" I speak English."

"Oh, good. Mind telling me what all that was about, lad? Do we need to go to the police?" The man asks, his voice gentle and warm.

Danny also realizes he staring into the face of the man who started the fashion contest. He still lying across his lap. With a yelp, he flings himself away, scrambling into the seat beside Bruce Wayne.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Wayne! I was being chased by...um, I don't know actually who they were."

"Bane's men." The driver says grimly in an English accent. "They were wearing the hummingbird of his inner circle."

"Alfred, please take us to Commissioner Gordon." Mr. Wayne commands, face turning hard, and Danny is about to tell him he's fine being dropped at home when suddenly-

"Are you hurt, chum?" Mr. Wayne asks, noticing Danny staring down at his chest pale face. Or maybe it was how he was frozen in place, waiting for a boom that might be coming.

The bomb stops ticking. Danny feels around his chest, wondering why when it clicks in his head.

"Chum?"

"Are you Batman?" Danny whispers, leaning into Mr. Wayne's face. " Batman, have you hugged your kids lately?"

He stares into the startled eyes of Mr. Wayne before he feels a sharp prick on the back of his neck. He has a few seconds of whirling around to see the driver- Aflred- settling back in his driving seat. A needle in his hand.

"Shit. Here, I thought I escaped a kidnapping."

The world went black, and there was only one thing he was aware of. The sound.

Tic tic tic tic tic tic

[hrtwayne]

Picture You | Leah Williamson

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Physiotherapist!Reader

Summary: Where Leah ends up kissing the team's physiotherapist.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: Mention of flirting and a possible kiss!

Masterlist | Women's Football Masterlist

Leah, one of the most renowned defenders in English football, had just arrived at Arsenal's training center. After a relatively intense season with tougher training sessions, she began to feel a constant discomfort in her thigh. As usual, she decided to ignore the pain at first, believing it was just muscle fatigue. However, after a few more days of discomfort, it became unavoidable. Leah found herself heading to the physiotherapy room.

Y/n, a renowned physiotherapist known both nationally and internationally in the sports scene, was in the room finishing up with Alessia, who had complained of a slight ankle pain after stepping wrong during training.

"Lessi, don’t worry, your ankle isn’t swollen. Just apply a compress before bed and avoid straining it tomorrow," Y/n explained, applying gentle pressure to the area to relieve the tension.

Alessia nodded, trusting Y/n's advice, and soon left, leaving the physiotherapist alone in the room. Y/n began organizing her things, preparing to wrap up her workday.

It was at that moment that Leah appeared at the door, the pain in her thigh becoming harder to ignore. She had always found the way Y/n conducted her work intriguing. The physiotherapist was competent and extremely methodical, but also had a seriousness that intrigued Leah. Perhaps it was this combination of competence and coolness that made Leah throw out her cheap flirtations every chance she got.

"Good afternoon, doctor. Are you heading out already?" Leah asked, her tone slightly softer than usual.

Y/n, who was already facing away, organizing her work bag, took a deep breath before turning to face the player. Leah, with her usual relaxed posture, made Y/n feel something different—a mix of irritation and interest.

"Do you need something?" Y/n asked, her voice calm but with a hint of impatience.

"I’ve been feeling some discomfort in my thigh during training. I think you should take a look," Leah replied, a slight smile on her face.

"Alright, take a seat over there," Y/n said, pointing to the examination table while finishing organizing her materials.

Leah quickly obeyed, her heart beating a little faster than usual as she watched the physiotherapist approach. She lay down on the table, waiting for the evaluation to begin. Y/n, always focused, began lightly touching Leah’s thigh, trying to identify the source of the pain.

"Is this thigh pain something recurring?" Y/n asked, her analytical gaze fixed on the area as she applied gentle pressure.

Leah took a deep breath, feeling the cool, precise touch of the physiotherapist’s fingers on her warm skin. Her mind began to wander.

"It’s been a few days, but I thought it was just fatigue from training," Leah replied, trying not to get distracted by Y/n’s proximity.

Y/n’s touch was firm and professional, but something about the way her fingers moved over Leah’s skin made the defender’s body react in ways she didn’t expect. Each press, each calculated movement seemed to provoke more than just a physical response—something deeper was stirring within her.

"Does it hurt here?" Y/n asked, gently squeezing a specific part of Leah’s thigh.

"A little, but it’s bearable," Leah murmured, her eyes fixed on the physiotherapist’s, feeling a silent connection forming.

Y/n continued the examination, applying a cold gel to Leah’s thigh to reduce inflammation. She began massaging the area with precise movements while explaining the procedure.

"It seems to be due to muscle overload, probably from the accumulation of intense matches and training sessions. I’ll recommend a painkiller and cold compresses to reduce the pain, and, of course, some rest," Y/n said, but soon noticed that Leah was distracted, her eyes fixed on her.

You weren’t paying attention to what I said, were you?" Y/n asked, her voice carrying a mix of playfulness and seriousness.

Leah blinked, snapping back to reality, and smirked, not hiding her charm.

"I was listening, doctor, but... I can’t focus much when you’re this close," Leah replied, her tone bold.

Y/n shook her head, unable to hold back a small smile. She knew Leah had this provocative side, but she also knew there was something more behind that attitude.

"You need to be a bit more subtle when you look at me like that, you know?" Y/n said, maintaining her professional tone but with a glint in her eyes. "Even with your reputation for flirting with everyone, it doesn’t go unnoticed."

"So you noticed?" Leah replied, her smile widening. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Before Leah could process the response, Y/n took a step closer to the defender, her eyes now fixed on Leah’s lips. It was a sudden decision, perhaps driven by the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks. And then, Y/n took the initiative, pulling Leah into an intense and unexpected kiss.

Leah, caught off guard, quickly responded, her hands moving to hold Y/n’s waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was hungry, filled with repressed desire. The world around them disappeared for a few moments.When Y/n finally pulled away, both were breathless. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to regain her composure.

"That shouldn’t have happened here," Y/n said, her voice slightly hoarse.Leah smiled, leaning forward.

"Well, if it can’t be here, we can continue outside," she suggested, a provocative glint in her eyes.

Y/n chuckled softly, shaking her head.

"We’ll see, Leah. Now go rest and follow my recommendations. And maybe... we’ll talk later... outside."

"So... outside?" Leah said, regaining her voice as she adjusted her posture, trying to appear calmer than she really was. Her eyes sparkled with subtle provocation.

Y/n, on the other hand, maintained the expression of someone still in control, though her slightly accelerated breathing betrayed her. She took a few steps back, gathering the remaining materials she would use to finish the session.

"Leah, this is work. I shouldn’t..." Y/n began, but the defender, with a mischievous smile, interrupted.

"I know. And I promise next time we’ll keep things in the right place," Leah said, winking. "But... I also know it’s not just work that makes you look at me like that."

Y/n sighed, finally allowing a small smile to escape. Leah was right, and although the moment wasn’t ideal, there was something undeniable between them—an attraction that had been building with every exchanged glance, every casual comment.

"Let’s focus on your recovery now," Y/n said, regaining her professional demeanor, but with a glint in her eyes that hinted this story was far from over. "And later... maybe we can talk about that 'outside.'"

Leah chuckled softly, lying back down as the physiotherapist applied the cold compress to her injured thigh. Even in that clinical environment, the tension between them lingered in the air, promising much more than just future consultations and treatments.

[telephoniii]

Do you accept requests? I really loved the Really him thing and was wondering if you could do that but him reacting to reader being in a polyamorous relationship with Malleus and Leona? Srry id u not comfortable with it. I thought id ask cuz there are like no poly fics

I’ve actually been debating whether or not to do requests. That and I was thinking about making a masterlist! If people really want to request stuff/have a masterlist then lmk and I’d be down to do it. My verdict rn is; if you have an idea, feel free to send it. 🤷

Also! It's not exactly polyamorous, but I've got a longer fic in the works abt Leona and Malleus being love rivals for the reader. So if that interests you than stay tuned!!

Anyways, lets get to the fun and whimsical stuff!

I’m not poly myself so I’m really sorry if anything is misrepresented. I did decide to add more than just Malleus and Leona since I thought it’d be fun! I hope you enjoy :>

REALLY…HIM? (Poly Addition)

malleus and leona

Oh, you’re going to give this man a heart attack. Because what do you mean you’re dating the two most powerful yet reckless students of them all. Malleus and Leona? The two have a heated rivalry, do they not?!Do you have no concern for your safety?!?!The amount of sheer power these two hold together frighten this poor soul. He tells you to keep your distance if they start to fight. As a magicless student, you do NOT want to get involved if a duel were to break out. No, Trein wants you to RUN if that ever happens. Give him some time to get used to it. The sight of you next to Malleus and Leona in the hallways sends panic throughout his nervous system. After a month or so, Trein mellows out. He’ll start asking technical questions that you don’t have answers to. “If you were to marry them both, would all three of you be the rulers of Briars Valley?” ??? No clue, Professor. Can I get back to my test in peace now?

ace and deuce

He’s not surprised in the slightest. Trein always had an inkling that something was going on between you three. He just didn't want to believe it. Why? Because he doesn't like them. Well, scratch that. He doesn't like Ace. Is he supposed to jump for joy at the fact you’re dating the biggest slacker among all the first years? Trein has a habit of nit-picking them both and what they do. However, despite all the smack he talks, deep down he heavily approves of the relationship. He knows the two boys and doesn't doubt their loyalty to you. It's always been the three of you from the start and he views it as an unbreakable bond. So, even though he makes a face when you walk in with Deuce’s sports jacket and says you should take it off because it smells like sweat, he finds himself smiling when he spots you three sitting together at lunch just enjoying each others company. The way you all joke around and laugh together like you’re the only people in the world. He trusts them with your heart more than anyone else.

vil and rook

He actually thinks it's a pretty sweet relationship at first. You all balance each other out. Vil and Rook earned Trein’s seal of approval to date you from day one… and then Rook sends him a creepy letter thanking him for being supportive and— yep. Trein takes back that seal because what the hell. For the senders name on the letter, it was by both Rook and Vil, so Trein pulls both of them aside to talk about HIS boundaries. (He thought he didn't have to explicitly say, “Don’t stalk me before, during, or after school hours” but here we are) Vil is so confused the whole time. What could've possibly prompted this?? Then he remembers his boyfriend next to him who’s blissfully smiling and it all starts to make sense. With a sigh, Vil ends up apologizing to Trein for the whole ordeal and tells you about it as well. Rook gives you a kiss and promises to just watch Trein from afar. You don’t know how much better that is and it seems like Vil is thinking the same thing as he lets out a small groan. Trein is forever unnerved by your relationship— specifically because of Rook.

jamil and azul

Honey, are you being manipulated into this relationship? Which one of them is gaslighting you? Trein knows that they both have deceptive tendencies and is concerned. He’s not actively against it or anything, but he just keeps a close eye on the three of you. Jamil and Azul pick up on this and silently agree to each other that they want to prove themselves to Trein. Expect to get the ultimate royalty treatment everytime the Professor is around. One moment they’re playfully poking fun at you, the next they are cherishing the ground you walk on. (As they should) Unfortunately, it ends up having the opposite effect where Trein is even more suspicious and starts telling you to keep your distance from them. Jamil lets out a tired sigh an decides to do the mature thing by actually talking to Trein about their relationship with you. He drags Azul along with him and makes sure to keep him in check during the discussion. Jamil’s honesty takes Trein by surprise. Usually he wasn't one to make himself notable like that. Azul, reluctantly, ends up being honest about his feelings and relationship regarding you after Jamil. Afterward, Trein doesn’t say anything the next time he sees the three of you together. Instead, he just gives you a small nod and smile. Wow. Ultimate approval. Jamil and Azul high-five each other under the table.

[patternsinnoise]

If we're talking about university here, I'd like to share a thought on that. As someone who teaches at a school hosting a heterodox economics program: don't even throw them out.

Many of them are cooked, sure, but some of them don't just know that you're being exploited, but have charts and equations diagnosing the problem and a short list of possible solutions they're interested in running by you.

(The business types are, sadly, often the most cooked, but do you know how many I have seen flip to history or psychology when I explained to them that their major and their job don't have to be a 1:1 match?)

Fight the administration, who deprive you all (and, I believe, set you against each other).

“the arts and sciences are completely separate fields that should be pitted against each other” the overlap of the arts and sciences make up our entire perceivable reality they r fucking on the couch

[historical-fashion-polls]

hello my lovelies! 💕

first, I want to apologize for being a bit absent on the blog! ❤️‍🩹 I still do check the notifs every day to see what y'all are thinking of the outfits, even if I haven't been responding to asks ☺️

second, I wanted to announce that for the moment, I will be switching the blog from posting 5 polls a day to 3. I almost made this change a month ago, but then decided I would try to stick with the posting schedule for a little longer, but as it stands right now, I feel as though I keep falling behind in queuing things and it has become a point of stress in my life, which I would like it not to be

as you may or may not be aware, I did make a call for assistants to help me run the blog this summer, but unfortunately my intentions to do proper onboarding keep getting derailed by personal things that have left me with almost no energy for that kind of additional work. and now that I'm back in my phd program, I have very little time to devote to providing the scaffolding/support that I would like to be able to offer

therefore, I'm going to keep the blog at 3 polls a day possibly until may when I am done with my school term and could actually look at doing some dedicated onboarding, at which time I'm hoping we could go back up to five polls per day

I want to apologize for this, since I know many of you enjoy checking the polls throughout the day, but I hope 3 will still feel like enough to keep things fun while we're in this intermediate period ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

I also want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has submitted images to the blog, and to let this be a humble request to please continue doing so if that's something you're interested in! 🥰🥰 submissions have truly been keeping the blog afloat whilst I've been working through some stuff that has taken a lot of my time and energy, and I am so so appreciative of that! 🥰🥰

again, I do apologize and I hope that this will be a satisfactory compromise as I try to navigate balancing everything I have going on at the moment ❤️‍🩹

asks are currently still off (sorry about that as well), but if you have pressing questions or concerns, you are welcome to post a comment here if you would like! 💕

thank you all so much for your patience and understanding! ☺️

with much gratitude,

the curator 🪶

[dollyyun]

REMINDER ✧ L.HS (FT. 02Z) [ TEASER ]

SYNOPSIS ✧ wherein your boyfriend, who has displayed possessive tendencies ever since some of his teammates had shown perverse interest in you, surprisingly allows them to have a taste of you and some fun with you, but not forgetting to remind them that at the end of the day, he’s the only one who can truly satisfy your needs and that you’re his.

PAIRINGS ✧ idol bf!heeseung x fem reader x idol!02z GENRE ✧ idol au, dynamic between characters, reverse harem element, fluffs, soft love, jealous-possessive heeseung, loverboy heeseung, (possibly)loverboys!02z, little plot WARNINGS ✧ needy and whiney reader, fivesome, unprotected sex (no!), dom!enha, mild bondage (light restraint), brief voyeurism, name calling, hair pulling, making out, degradation, manhandling, fingering, spitting, clit stimulations, cum eating, choking, spanking, creampies, overstimulations, multiple orgasms, gangbang, more to be added... TEASER WORDCOUNT ✧ 2.9K CURRENT WORDCOUNT ✧ 11K (est 30k)

PREV PART | SERIES MASTERLIST

The first time they met you when Heeseung officially introduced you to the whole team as his girlfriend, they were enthralled by your pristine-like beauty, even more so when they observed how you carried yourself in a refined manner. Initially, you were evidently shy to be in their presence during the first few hangouts, a natural reaction that was expected, considering that they’re superstars. It didn’t take too long for you to warm up to the maknae line, bonding with them as though they had been your long-lost best friends, but you’re reserved and formal around 02z despite being the same age as them.

The 02z did not take your indifference too personally, especially since they were more than aware of how unapproachable they looked, which made sense why you preferred the maknaes’ company than theirs, but they couldn’t ignore the disappointment that twinged in their chest whenever they watched you in a carefree element around the maknae line.

Was the disappointment derived from their platonic yearning in being your friend? Or was it derived from the attraction that took root within them when they first saw you?

They genuinely have no idea, but after the video call incident, when they unintentionally heard such sensual yet explicit sounds emitted from you, their attraction towards you became protrusive, and somehow, without confiding in each other, they shared the same goal that involved making you notice them.

But it didn’t seem to be working effectively when you remained awkward around them even after they made efforts to take the initiative to get close to you the way the maknae line did; well, at least two of them have been.

Sunghoon still has trouble opening up to you despite his attraction towards you, his aloof demeanour intimidating you every so often. It is more than evident in the way you tend to avoid meeting his icy gaze and how you would not-so-discreetly recoil whenever he is in your vicinity. He admits that he intentionally appears unwelcoming to you as he intended to steer clear of you since you have become Heeseung’s beloved, but he didn’t intend to get to a point where you completely avoid him like the plague. 

Jay is more than aware of how he intimidates you in the way he’s overbearing whenever he grasps the opportunity to interact with you, especially how he teases you in a way that borders on mean, which makes sense why you tend to ignore him or the way you look flustered, but in full honesty, he enjoys every little detail in your reaction — how your nose scrunches up adorably, your lips jutting into a small pout, your coloured irises burning with a familiar fiery — just how your sulky temperament easily entertains him.

Unlike the two Parks, who still master some form of restraint, Jake goes all out, unconcealing his flirtatious nature whenever he’s around you, even when Heeseung is next to you. Just like Jay, Jake enjoys the reaction he elicits out of you, how his charms often affect you even if you appear collected, but other times, he’s friendly with you, engaging you in small conversations that you keenly reciprocate, because no matter how attractive you are, he genuinely enjoys talking to you. Maybe it sounds stupid, but he feels as though he has met his twin flame. He can’t deny that despite the attraction, he has a genuine interest in being your friend.

Right, friend. How could they ever cross the boundary when you are clearly taken by Heeseung? The oldest member and their dependable Hyung, whom they grew up with for years. How could they ever show any form of disrespect towards your relationship with him? Especially when your relationship with him is far more stable than their love lives.

In spite of the persisting yet unspoken tension between them and the oldest, they genuinely respect him and his relationship with you, and how truly admirable his devotion and loyalty to you are, essentially and unknowingly setting a good example for them. Even a blind person could see how much Heeseung is irrevocably in love with you. 

Maybe it’s the void of loneliness within them that spurred them to be attracted to you, the idea of you, the idea of love despite their notion of love differing from each other’s, but the attraction towards you is unabating, and even till now, all they desire is you despite how unattainable you are.

Which is probably the reason why Heeseung may or may not be at his last straw after they had blatantly displayed their lust and attraction whenever they were in your vicinity or the interactions they had with you, as they are presently in the oldest’s room, standing in front of him like a bunch of delinquents getting reprimanded by the school’s principal.

They have long since prepared to get a hell of a beating from the oldest member that is long overdue, not that they would willingly submit to him since they still have pride in them. The door is locked shut since Heeseung doesn’t want the youngest in their team to eavesdrop on them.

The tension in the air is almost palpable, as is the deadly silence, but their eyes never stray from Heeseung’s calculated ones, and yet, his face remains unreadable despite the austerity he exudes. They have no idea what to expect, but will they be able to get out of this unscathed?

Heeseung, who has been observing them critically while he remains seated on his computer chair, finally emits a noise as he releases a sigh before loosening his taut composure. “No matter how much I want to beat the shit out of you guys, I’m not going to do that.” A humourless smirk unfurls on his lips while a spark of amusement dances in his eye. “So you can relax now.”

But neither of them dares to move a single muscle or even crack a smile, feeling dubious over his remark and his composure, as though they expect the oldest to pull a stunt.

“Are you sure?” Jay speaks up after a couple beats of silence, his eyes narrowing at the oldest, who seems wholly laid-back. “I mean, it’d be understandable and fair if you want to beat us after what happened.”

For a fleeting moment, there is a spark of temptation within Heeseung, but he shakes his head. “It isn’t worth ruining our friendship.” He states firmly before unravelling a layer of this unspoken animosity that encompassed their dynamic for two weeks. “This tension does nothing good to us if it continues because it will affect the dynamic of the team if it’s not resolved.”

“Agreed.” Sunghoon concurs, drawing their attention to him while his face remains stoic. “Sunoo informed me how different we’ve been around you lately. So I guess we should forget what happened and move past that.”

“On the contrary, I differ.” Heeseung says calmly, his expression remaining indecipherable. He heaves a deep sigh as he rubs his temple. “I’ve been thinking and reflecting ever since that day, and a part of me still refuses to accept the truth that you guys may or may not have some sort of attraction towards my girl.” He returns his stern gaze to them, his eyes hardening while his tone sounds austere. “So I’m here to ask you for the last time, and I want to hear the truth: do you or do you not lust for my girlfriend?”

The question that leaves his lips sends them flinching, most especially by how easily he enunciates those words. For a moment, neither of them dares to answer, and they silently yet collectively decide to refute, but Heeseung shoots them a warning glare.

“Don’t bother lying because I saw the way you guys looked at her the other day.” 

“Yes, we do.” Sunghoon finally admits, albeit guilt is evident in the colour of his tone as he looks away from his gaze. “Truth be told, we have always found her attractive ever since you introduced her to us. At least I know I did.” 

“But we kept our boundaries because we respected your relationship with her, we really did.” Jake adds in defensively, having a strong sense that the oldest is battling the chaotic emotions within him. “You know that we would never do anything to ruin your relationship.”

“I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t lie when I say that I found her more attractive after that incident in the hotel room.” Jay confesses, and it astounds the other two how he doesn’t look the slightest bit guilty as he continues to hold Heeseung’s gaze.

“You should be rest assured that we’re not going to do anything that might jeopardise your relationship with her.” Sunghoon informs him in an attempt to ease any doubts or worries from his mind.

Jake nods his head in agreement. “Yeah, we know how much you love her — we’ve seen how much you love her.”

They await his remark, but Heeseung continues to stare at them with indecipherable emotions, leaving them to wonder what actually goes on in his enigmatic mind. But little do they know that the oldest has made a final decision after having to battle the possessive beast within himself, as his decision involved you.

Heeseung rubs his tired face, lines of exhaustion from the lack of sleep paint his features. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been considering making our relationship open to you guys.” He divulges, his tone being carefully measured as he studies the expression on their faces, but his eyes harden briefly. “Not in the sense that it relates to poly, no, I'm too selfish to share her with you guys on that level of relationship.”

“What are you talking about, Heeseung?” Jay asks slowly, his heart palpitating at the implication while his mind is filled with pure confusion.

“I’m talking about you guys being able to have your way with her.” Heeseung elaborates nonchalantly, expecting to see some form of excitement from them, but the objection in their expression takes him by surprise.

“You’re kidding.” Sunghoon chuckles in disbelief, his eyes burning with an inexplicable fury despite his cold demeanour. “What the fuck, hyung? How could you even consider that? I thought you loved her.”

“Don’t become all principled now, Park Sunghoon.” Heeseung drawls as he leans his back against the soft cushion of his computer chair. His lips stretch into a lazy smirk. “I know that deep down, you’ve been wanting a taste of her.” 

“Woah, slow down, my guy.” Jake speaks up, getting slightly flustered by the oddity of his behaviour after noticing his possessive tendencies when it comes to you. “So let me get this straight. To put it bluntly, you’re allowing us to have sex with your girlfriend?”

“Exactly as I said.” Heeseung says calmly with his hands clasped together while resting his elbows on the armrests.

“But why?” Jay voices out his confusion. “I mean, your generosity is much appreciated, but we don’t understand. You’ve become possessive as fuck around her ever since we returned home.”

Jay has a point, but Heeseung has thought about this consideration deeply, using every rationality within him before coming into a conclusion that led to him developing a sense of pity towards his teammates. He recognised and understood that it must have been a long time since either of them had gotten laid, and with the management being strict on them, they were deprived of the privilege to, bluntly put, fuck their own fans despite the NDA serving a purpose to avoid scandals or any potential damage, but the company didn’t want any risk.

Besides, Heeseung knows that he can’t really blame them for being attracted to his gorgeous girlfriend, adding to the fact that your personality and manner are what often gravitate people towards. Hence, he has come to a decision to permit his own teammates to have their way with you, albeit there will be rules and restrictions.

“Tell me, when was the last time you guys got laid?” Heeseung asks rhetorically, raising his eyebrow at the swift avoidance in the way their eyes dart elsewhere. “A long time? Never? So why not take my offer when I’m being oh-so-generous before I change my mind?”

Collectively, suspicions brew within them as they warily stare at the oldest, who bears a smirk on his lips while he awaits their answers, feeling entirely dubious whether or not he’s testing them deliberately in an attempt to set them up. No matter how enticing the idea of them having their way with you, they wouldn’t want to risk breaking their friendship and bond with the oldest.

“What’s in it for you?” Sunghoon asks tersely, refusing to lower his guard, his icy gaze piercing, a direct challenge to Heeseung’s steely eyes. “I mean, how would this benefit you?” 

“It wouldn’t.” The genuine honesty in Heeseung’s tone seems to mollify their collective scepticism, but their demeanour remains rigid, eliciting a sigh from the oldest as he decides to deliver his sincerity in the way his eyes soften. “I’m doing this because I want to help you guys. I don’t care how much this might hurt your pride, but as your best friend, I pity you because you haven’t had the chance to get laid, and since the management is stricter on us this time, why not have your way with my girlfriend?”

“I don’t know, Hyung.” Jake mutters unsurely, frowning as he feels indecisive, torn between accepting and rejecting Heeseung’s offer.

“It’s a win-win for you guys, and possibly my girlfriend too since she gets more pleasure.” Heeseung adds, feeling more than generous to convince them.

Jay meets Jake and Sunghoon’s gaze, exchanging a silent understanding with them before directing his attention back to Heeseung. “Does she know about this? Has she even agreed to this arrangement?” 

Heeseung shakes his head. “She doesn’t know the slightest bit, but we’ll reveal it to her on the day we decide to do it with her.”

“I’m sorry, we? As in yourself too?” Jake asks in disbelief, his eyes widening slightly at the idea of Heeseung joining and watching as they might potentially obliterate you with how insatiable their needs are.

“Of course. I’m the boyfriend, aren’t I?” Heeseung smirks cockily, looking completely laid-back, but there is a predatory gleam in his gaze. “I have to make sure that you don’t break any rules, or the deal is off.”

“Afraid that your girl might catch feelings for us?” Sunghoon cracks into a grin, enjoying the scowl that contorts faintly in Heeseung’s face. “Relax, I’m kidding. She’s not even my type.” 

“So what are the rules? And what are we allowed to do with her?” Jay prods, drawing Heeseung’s attention.

“It’s simple, really. You can take her however you like, do whatever you’ve always desired to do, and you can even dirty talk to her — which, by the way, my girl’s into that — and you can kiss her on any part of her body except her lips.” Heeseung lists down with a tone of finality, leaving no room for objection or addition. His eyes are firm as he looks at them. “I can’t have you kissing my girl on the lips.”

Jake shrugs his shoulders in agreement. “Fine by me.” 

“We still need her consent.” Sunghoon reminds the bunch, his tone firm. “Because as much as I want to fuck your girl, no offence, her consent matters.”

“I know that.” Heeseung says, his features softening at the thought of you, before a familiar smugness returns, his eyes gleaming playfully. “If she agrees, it’s your luck. But if she disagrees, then I guess I should tell you good luck in advance to find other ways to get laid.”

“Man, that’s the hardest part.” Jay groans loudly, scowling in frustration. “And we can’t even fuck fans!”

“I mean, we have alternatives, if you’re up for it. We talked about it before.” Jake suggests slyly as he grins at Jay, who immediately gets a whiplash from their conversation in the past, well, more like Jake’s explicit suggestion.

“No fucking way. I’m not about to let any part of my dick make contact with yours!” Jay snarls in disagreement, disgust written over his face that Jake finds great delight in. “I wouldn’t even wanna fuck you if I swung for the same team.”

“Way to win over a man’s heart, bro.” Jake pouts his lips, only to earn a shove from Jay before they proceed to engage in their usual squabble.

“Yeah, this is the shit I have to deal with every day.” Sunghoon tells Heeseung with an eye roll while the latter simply smiles in amusement. “By the way, thanks. I’m sure it was hard for you to consider this.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m only helping you guys out.” Heeseung waves him off dismissively. “Just don’t place your hopes too high until she agrees to it."

“I have an idea to persuade her into agreeing.” Sunghoon’s bold suggestion earns an eyebrow raise from Heeseung. “But we need your permission, of course. Are we allowed to test waters and cross some boundaries with her?”

Heeseung immediately understands, and his lips twitch into a smirk, already imagining how flustered and bothered you’d be. “Yeah, sure. Just do whatever you guys wanna do as long as it gets her riled up in some way. Besides, she’s into foreplay.” He adds wittingly, earning collective groans and curses from the three as their imaginations run rampant.

“Fuck, Heeseung, you lucky bastard.” Jay scoffs out. “You really hit the jackpot with her, huh?”

“She’s amazing.” This time, a rare yet genuine smile touches Heeseung’s lips while they recognise the familiar adoration he has for you. “You guys would know once you get to know her better.”

Despite their attraction towards you, they can’t help but feel disheartened, hoping that someday they’d have their own lovers that they adore the way Heeseung does you.

#1 PERM TAGLIST:

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@hellokittygurl9999 @woorcve @1309zip @vwricky @sunghoon-real-wife

[cathnospam]

Love your fics girlll, if your taking requests can I please have a Katsuki x black female who is his secret(?) girlfriend comes to visit him at UA Dan be sfw or nsfw🫶🏾

When I made this page I really didn’t wanna do requests because I like writing self indulgently but this was a very cute idea. So. I’ll make it an exception. Hope you like it. Thank you <3

Warnings: Smut, Mentioning Oral, Breeding(?), Reader is mentioned to have braids and bilingual, Bakugo speaks German, Fluff turned to smut, Established relationship, College UA AU

-

“Where are you?”

“Turn around.”

It’s been a couple years since you and Bakugo became in an exclusive relationship and despite you living in America, and only visiting during the summer you managed to get an intern job at a hero Agency in Japan relatively close to UA.

You swore this relationship wouldn’t work, but Bakugo was oddly persistent in you being his, and it didn’t take long to convince you your relationship would last simply because Bakugo never had eyes for anybody else. So it was either you or nobody.

He would occasionally send you package gifts of Japan snacks you wanted to try, and even sent you a bracelet that can send vibrations of the word “I love/miss you.” On it that you both never take off. It was hard only seeing him for 2 weeks out of an entire year for 3 years but it was worth it when you both graduated from high school.

You and him were mentally counting down the days and seconds when you were finally moving down to Japan for good and seeing your taller, and more muscular blonde boyfriend in his cut sleeved shirt made you squeal.

He looked even sexier from behind and in person.

“You’re choking me, girl.” You can hear a slight playfulness in his voice as he carries you up to hug with one arm. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

“I knoooowwwww. I’m so glad to be back!” You giggle down to land him a small peck on the cheek which left him already boiling in embarrassment.

“Tch.” He mumbled, gently putting you down, patting your ass in the process before taking your bags. “You got your damn gloss on me.”

You fake pity him to wipe off the smeared lip combo you left on his cheek but he dodges your hand.

The ride back to UA was a bit nerve racking for your Blondie. He never told anybody about you, it wasn’t necessarily a secret, but it definitely wasn’t something he just outed to tell people. The only person that was aware of you and met you in his life was his parents and Aizawa mainly because he needed his approval for you to come to his dorm before you head to stay at your hotel.

You on the other hand was excited. Finally get to see some of Japan’s future amazing hero’s . You heard a lot about them through social media and Bakugo.

Upon entering the first person you encounter was Deku walking past and he freezes seeing you.

“I—oh hello! My name is Izuku—-“

“Izuku Midoriya yeah I’ve heard about you.” You grin, Deku immediately getting warm in the cheeks hearing your slight accent as you speak to him in Japanese. you sounded so cute. “Nice to meet you I’m Y/N.”

It didn’t take long until Denki walked in, then Sero, Kiri, Mina, and everybody else swarmed around you. Assuming you were a new student for the college semester, but it annoyed Bakugo seeing how close and interested the guys were getting towards you, and even Mina giving you a few flirtatious compliments he had to clear the air.

“She’s my girlfriend.” He deadpanned. Which left the entire common room to go radio silent.

“Your WHAT?”

Bakugo wasn’t sure if he should blast the room out or just take you to his room and be done with this. But you spoke up for him instead.

“Yes, me and him met a few years ago during high school and—“

“That mission we took overseas?” Shoto asked softly. You nodded.

“So THAT’S why you disappeared so many times—“

“SHUT UP NERD.” Bakugo cut Deku off from possibly yammering aloud what he recalled from that week.

You didn’t go into much detail of your relationship besides how long you both been dating and why you’re here. Eventually a few questions about your hair, you had on Boho Braids and many of the girls were so amazed on how beautiful your skin and hair was.

Eventually the questions began to die down and your boyfriend was getting antsy waiting for you in his room.

It was a blessing and kind of annoying because he took your baggage in his room and freshened it up a bit for you to feel comfortable.

You said your goodnights and goodbyes , hearing a few snickering and giggles from Denki and Sero as Bakugo comes to snatch get you back to his room.

“They were so nice.”

“And a pain in the ass.” He grumbles locking his door.” They didn’t ask you any uncomfortable questions did they? “

“Oh no of course not.” You reassured him before giving him a proper kiss on the lips.

You could feel his mouth curl into a smirk. A very familiar one that you haven’t seen since the first time you both slept together.

And that’s been a whole year.

….

“‘Suuuukkiiii~” You whined into his pillow that smelled like him, which was making you more intoxicated from what he was doing between your legs.

“Gatta be quiet.” His voice rumbled on your clit making your back arch. “Next time we’re fucking in your hotel room.”

……

“Y/N…” He groans in your ear, his arms so tightly wrapped around your waist as you feel every inch of his dick stretch you out more until his pelvis snaps against yours.

All you could hear was the outside chatter of class 1-A and the shallow breaths of you and him being exchanged.

“Ganna fucking cum if I move just wait.”

The smell of your pussy on his breath made you clamp down on him. Swallowing his broken moan into your mouth because he was exactly what you missed. He suckled on your fat bottom lip and kissed your beautiful brown, sweaty skin on your neck as he pushes your braids to the side.

You heard his bed creak as he slowly began to move in and out. He whispers in your ear how many times he’s fucked his hand to the thought of being inside of you again, how much he missed you, how badly he needed you while you were away.

He always got like this when he was inside you, a dirty talking mess.

On occasion Bakugo would breath out words in German, but you couldn’t hear exactly what he said just the accent and that alone drove you insane, because the tired rasp of his natural voice coming out made you melt in his arms.

“Y/N….where…where can I…?”

“Inside, Baby inside. I’m—-I’m on birth control—ah!”

The moment he got your approval he began to pick up the pace, your legs now over his shoulder and your knees touching your own shoulders you officially were feeling all of him and you could not do anything but take whatever he was giving you.

Your throat just aching to let go and moan his name and he knew so he put his hand on your mouth.

“Sssh shhh shhhh N/N…. I know…” Bakugo knew if anybody heard you two that’d be the topic of discussion for WEEKS.

Everybody in his class has had sex, but nobody ever thought whether Bakugo has or not, but after tonight and from the way you just couldn’t shut the fuck up.

They know now how Bakugo gets down. :P

[ultramaga]

"it doesn't matter that our federal programs and institutions need reform." Interesting. So when things are corrupt, when they are partisan, when they act as if they were extensions of one Party - when Everything is in The State, Nothing outside of it - that's a good thing? That is fascism, my friend. You just pushed FOR fascism. Are you going to don your blackshirt and scream for the death of Israel, like Leftists have done for years now? "YOU CAN'T REFORM SOMETHING ONCE IT'S GONE" Of course you can. The Japanese State was dissolved and reformed. So was the Rumanian Communist State. Sometime you clear the board and start again. Especially when you want to reverse brainwashing.

It is possible for at least some Leftists to be reformed. True, many are sociopaths, but a tiny handful could be redeemed as human beings. "DEFEND INSTITUTIONS" So ... Institution -> Good?

No matter what. If it's an institution, you, as a Leftist, defend it. You don't think. You simply exist as a tool of the Deep State, the unelected government that carries on regardless of who the people actually vote for.

An elite of petty people, who we call "civil servants" - but who are neither.

If anything, the people are the peasants; the bureaucrats at their desks are their masters. No. Burn it down and start something better. Leftists had four years to do something. They just used the money that was supposed to help people for indoctrination instead. Or worse, to influence elections in friendly powers.

Or to fund the enemies of the United States.

They colluded with the people who massacred innocents in Israel. Leftists stand in the blackshirts, screaming for the death of Israel, and take money from the pockets of conservatives, and they use that money to slaughter Jewish children. And if you object, they will call YOU a Nazi.

And if they can kill you, they will.

Fuck Leftism, Fuck the Deep State. Time to try something better.

The Tide is Turning.

I'm gonna say it until I'm blue in the face

Right now, it doesn't matter that our federal programs and institutions need reform. YOU CAN'T REFORM SOMETHING ONCE IT'S GONE. It will take WAY more work (and harm way more people in the meantime) to rebuild from scratch than to work to save these programs now.

Did the grant freeze scare anyone?? It should have!! Yes, it's been temporarily blocked, BUT EVEN IF IT STAYS BLOCKED, IF THERE'S NO ONE TO ADMINISTER THE GRANTS, WE STILL DON'T GET FUNCTIONING PROGRAMS

Snyder's On Tyranny, #2: DEFEND INSTITUTIONS. All Americans should be throwing their backs behind civil service right now and calling their reps until the reps actually DO something to keep our workers in their jobs. We NEED good people in the agencies and offices that are being targeted!! Or we are going to lose programs, resources, and data we worked for generations to build!

Don't think for one second it's going to be fucking ICE that shuts down because of this... ICE won't be touched. It'll be research, welfare, disaster assistance, land protections, environmental protections, even access to core data that we take for granted, is what we're going to lose. With the grant freeze, and the DEI purge, we've already seen just how FAST resources can be ripped away

FEDERAL WORKERS ARE NOT YOUR ENEMY. We need to stand together on this, as they are building a resistance to defend the constitution against ALL ENEMIES, FOREIGN AND DOMESTIC, because if anyone's the enemy here it's the fucking fascists. And, like it or not, bureaucracy (filled with stubborn, dedicated people) is our first line of defense.

[goldfades]

could u write joe burrow and a young gf :3

ouuuu i lowkey love this!!! i forget joe is literally almost 30 sometimes cause he's been my baby since 2020 :(

The thing about loving Joe Burrow is that it never quite feels real.

Not in the way people would assume—Oh my God, you’re dating Joe Burrow—but in the quieter, trickier ways. Like how surreal it is to be brushing your teeth while he’s flopped across the bed scrolling through film, mumbling something about coverages.

Or how it feels when his name echoes from TV screens and sports talk shows, but the same voice that commands huddles and stadiums turns soft when he asks, “You good, babe?” after long days.

It started somewhere simple. It always does.

Before all the noise, before the headlines, before the whispers about her being too young or him settling down so soon. You were just you, balancing college classes and internships, while he was—well, Joe Burrow. Quarterback. Face of a franchise. The golden boy with ice in his veins and Ohio stitched into his heart.

The age thing? People love to talk.

"She's barely legal," Twitter said. "He's almost thirty—what could they possibly have in common?"

But nobody saw late nights where he quizzed you for exams between reps of watching film. No one heard him tease you about your Starbucks order or watched the way his whole face softened when you walked into a room.

You weren’t high school sweethearts or some college love story. You met after his star had already risen. He was 26 then, fresh off another playoff run. You were 20, still figuring out your major and how to parallel park. It wasn’t supposed to be anything. But somehow, between weekend flights to Cincinnati, cheap takeout, and late-night phone calls that stretched till sunrise, it became everything.

Now?

Now, he’s 28. And you’re counting down the weeks until your 22nd birthday.

It’s different now. The stakes are higher. His window is now, and yours is still unfolding. People don’t get that. They think he should be with someone who has it all figured out. Someone closer to his stage in life. But Joe? Joe never seemed interested in the version of you that had all the answers.

He likes you exactly as you are.

And maybe that’s what makes this all so dangerous. Because you love him like you have all the time in the world. But what if you don’t?

What if time, distance, and expectations catch up?

The thing about loving Joe Burrow is that it never feels real.

And maybe that’s what scares you the most.

It started in the most unremarkable way, which, in hindsight, made it all the more impossible.

You weren’t supposed to be there that night.

It was late spring—warm air clinging to skin, cicadas humming like background noise. A friend dragged you out, promising “something low-key” that turned out to be anything but. A rooftop bar downtown, lights strung across beams, music low enough for conversation but loud enough to fill silences. The kind of place where everyone seemed to know someone.

You felt out of place almost immediately—twenty, still figuring things out, surrounded by people who seemed to have their lives together. People with jobs, plans, confidence. You clutched your drink like a lifeline, nodding along to conversations you weren’t part of.

And then—him.

Joe Burrow.

You knew of him, obviously. Everyone did. The city’s golden boy. LSU’s champion turned Cincinnati’s hope. The one with the calm stare and colder game. But seeing him there, in a soft gray hoodie and jeans that looked too casual for someone like him, was jarring.

He wasn’t surrounded by a crowd like you expected. No loud entourage, no flashy bravado. Just him, leaning against the railing, a glass of something in his hand, looking out at the skyline like he wasn’t the biggest deal in the room.

You tried not to stare. Failed miserably.

And he caught you.

But here’s the thing—you looked away first. You didn’t smile or wave or give him that Oh my God, it’s Joe Burrow look he was probably used to. You just turned back to your group, back to your half-finished drink, back to your uncomfortable corner.

But he noticed.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Just a glance. A flicker of interest, easily forgotten. But when you shifted places an hour later, needing air and space, there he was—somehow always there. Close enough to talk to, if you were brave enough.

You weren’t.

He was.

"Not your scene?"

His voice caught you off guard—low, almost shy. He wasn’t cocky about it, didn’t lead with who he was. Just a simple question. You glanced over, squinting against the fading light.

"Not really," you admitted, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yours?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Not really."

And that was it. A conversation that began with mutual disinterest in the place you both stood.

No cheesy pickup lines. No starstruck reactions. Just two people, sharing a quiet pocket of space in a loud world.

It started slow after that.

Joe wasn’t the type to rush things. He didn’t blow up your phone the next day. There were no grand gestures. Just texts that came at odd hours—memes, random thoughts, “this reminded me of you” photos. Late-night conversations that started light and ended heavy.

"What do you wanna do after school?" "Not sure yet. Still figuring it out." "That’s cool. You got time."

And he meant it.

He liked listening. That was the first thing you noticed. Everyone assumed he’d be the one with stories to tell, but Joe preferred hearing yours. He wanted to know about your classes, your friends, your opinions on movies you half-watched.

He didn’t treat you like you were younger. He didn’t make you feel like you had something to prove.

And maybe that’s why you fell for him first.

Not that you said it. Not for a while.

You didn’t know it, but Joe liked that you didn’t treat him like Joe Burrow. You talked to him like he was just a guy—messy, complicated, figuring things out. And he wanted that.

For months, things stayed undefined. Texts. Calls. Occasional meetups when he was in the neighborhood. You told yourself it wasn’t serious. Couldn’t be. He had an NFL career; you had classes and part-time jobs.

But then came that night.

It was after a tough loss—one of those games where the city buzzed with disappointment. You shot him a simple text: “Tough one. Hope you’re good.”

Didn’t expect a reply. But he did.

"Come over?"

It wasn’t a question. And when you showed up, hair still damp from a rushed shower, no makeup, heart racing—he looked at you like you were the best thing he’d seen all week.

"You’re here," he said softly, like he didn’t quite believe it.

"Of course I am."

That night, there were no cameras, no expectations. Just Joe—quiet, vulnerable—and you, sitting beside him on a worn-out couch.

He kissed you first.

Soft, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if he should. Like he was giving you the chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

You never wanted to.

So how have you lasted this long?

Patience.

It wasn’t always easy. The age gap made things complicated. He was settling into his prime years—face of a franchise, pressure mounting. You were still growing, still becoming.

But Joe never expected you to catch up. He let you take your time. He liked that you weren’t rushing.

You learned his rhythms—when he needed space, when he needed reassurance. He learned your moods—when you were overwhelmed, when you needed grounding.

You made room for each other.

Not because it was easy. But because it mattered.

And somehow, almost two years later, here you still are.

Joe’s turning 28. You’re on the edge of 22.

Everyone still talks. But neither of you have ever cared much about what they say.

--

The apartment was quiet in that late-afternoon, honey-gold kind of way. The kind of light that stretched long shadows across hardwood floors and made everything feel softer, slower. The game was on mute—highlights from last week’s win looping on ESPN—while you sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through your laptop.

Joe was in the kitchen, barefoot, wearing a faded Ohio State tee and gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His hair was still damp from a shower, curling slightly at the edges. He moved with that same unhurried calm he always had off the field, focused on slicing up an apple with alarming precision for someone who could launch a 60-yard pass without blinking.

"You want some?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"No thanks," you mumbled, eyes still on the screen.

"Liar," he said, grinning. "You’re gonna steal a piece anyway."

He wasn’t wrong.

Joe crossed the room, dropping onto the couch beside you with a quiet oof. The plate balanced on his knee, and sure enough, when he popped a slice into his mouth, he held another out for you without looking.

"Told you," he muttered around a bite.

"Whatever," you said, accepting it anyway.

This was what you two were like—easy.

No big gestures or loud declarations. Just knowing. He knew you’d take the apple slice even when you said you wouldn’t. You knew he’d watch you more than the TV. The spaces between you were always filled with things left unsaid but understood.

"Whatcha working on?" he asked after a moment, nodding toward your laptop.

"Paper. Boring. You wouldn’t care."

"I always care," he said, leaning back. His arm stretched along the back of the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder lightly. "Tell me."

You gave him a look, skeptical.

"You literally fell asleep last time I explained this class to you."

"Nah," he grinned, slow and lazy. "Just resting my eyes. You were doing great."

"Uh-huh."

Joe bumped your knee with his. "Tell me."

So you did. Stumbling through half-formed thoughts about your topic, tapping at the trackpad, rambling. You knew you were probably losing him—this wasn’t exactly thrilling stuff—but Joe kept his gaze steady on you. Not nodding along just to be polite. Actually listening.

That’s what always got you. He listened.

Even when he didn’t get it, even when he was tired or distracted—he paid attention because it was you.

When you finally trailed off with a shrug, mumbling, "See? Boring," Joe shook his head.

"Nah," he said. "You sound smart when you talk about stuff you like."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed.

"I always sound smart," you shot back.

"Yeah," he said, grinning wider. "But especially when you’re like this. Focused. All serious."

He reached over, tugging gently at the sleeve of your sweatshirt. "Cute, too."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

You shoved him, and he laughed, warm and low, catching your wrist with a loose grip. Not tight—never tight—just enough to pull you closer until you were half in his lap.

"Say it again," you teased, narrowing your eyes. "Say I sound smart."

Joe’s eyes sparkled with something playful, something soft.

"You sound smart," he murmured, voice dropping.

His thumb brushed slow circles against the inside of your wrist. His gaze flicked down to your mouth, then back up.

"And cute," he added, softer this time.

Your breath hitched, and suddenly the space between you wasn’t so wide anymore.

Joe always did that—brought things back to the quiet. He had this way of looking at you like you were the only thing in the room. Like all the noise—fans, games, expectations—didn’t matter. Just you.

"You gonna kiss me or keep talking?" you whispered.

He didn’t smile this time. Just leaned in, closing the gap, slow and sure.

The kiss wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t some movie-scene, fireworks kind of thing. It was steady. Familiar. Warm. The kind of kiss that said, I know you. I’ve got you.

When you pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. Neither of you said anything for a beat.

Then—

"Told you I’d make you forget about that boring paper."

"You’re the worst."

"Mm. But you love me."

"Unfortunately."

He grinned. "Lucky me."

And that was it. That was you two.

Not always perfect. Not always poetic. But steady.

Because at the end of the day, loving Joe Burrow wasn’t about the headlines or the spotlight. It was this—apples shared on a quiet afternoon, lazy kisses between conversations, and the unshakable certainty that when the world got loud again, you’d both still be right here.

[matchpointfaist]

dilf! art

he finally worked up the nerve to text you after a long two days, after much deliberation of if this was even ethical, if pursuing his peers daughter made him a creep. he decided that, no, it didn’t. your dad was older than him, and he still spent time surrounded by athletes your age anyway. plus, you had to be interested, or you would have never given him the time of day. with all that in mind, he sent you a simple text.

‘hey, it’s art. how are you?’

you replied soon after, casting a small smile across his face.

‘hi! i’m good, you? i didn’t see you around the courts this morning.’

god, had you looked for him? the thought twisted into something obscene so quickly that he had to blink it away, shaking his head and trying to regain focus.

‘i’m at home, actually. have an event this afternoon in the city.’

it was safe, he told himself. small talk with an acquaintance, that’s all. just friendly.

‘oo, what event? that’s such a funny coincidence, i’ll be in the city tonight as well at the club’s charity gala.’

oh, god. oh, he was so fucked. an entire night, with you, in a semi intimate setting. your father would probably be there. hell, his ex wife would probably be there.

‘i’ll be there too. small world.’

his throat was dry as he sent the message, his teeth worrying over his bottom lip, a mix of dread and excitement curling in his stomach.

‘see you tonight then! xx’

art, embarrassingly, spent the entire car ride to the gala psyching himself up for seeing you. he went over all the variables and possibilities, all the ways that he needed to avoid making a complete fool of himself, all the ways he wanted to impress you.

time stopped when he saw you, your satin dress sparkling in the light, your laugh carrying through the room and going straight to his head. your dress was short and your heels were tall and you looked like a fucking model, like a daydream, a vision of tanned legs and shimmery makeup.

“oh, mr. donaldson!” the sound of his name from your lips snapped him from his trance, and he smiled the best he could, practically buzzing with your proximity, “i’m glad you made it. here, i saved you a seat next to me. my father couldn’t make it, so it was empty,”

“oh, thank you,” he grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server, trying not to let his gaze linger too much as you lead him to the seats, your hips swaying with every step. it was gonna be a long night, he thought to himself. especially without your father to be a buffer.

thankfully, once you took your seats, the long droning of speeches started. over an hour of pledges and donation announcements and information on the benefits of the charity, things that he didn’t particularly care about but was suddenly grateful for, since it kept him from making any reckless mistakes involving you.

god, you. you’d been drinking champagne like it was going to disappear, glass after glass without any other substance to keep you from getting too drunk. you were giggling by the time the speeches wrapped, laughing at nothing in particular, covering your mouth as you did. he should’ve suggested you slow down- shouldve done the right thing, been a good influence, been the mature one.

but then your hand was on his shoulder, and the giggles had stopped, replaced by a glint in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “you’re so strong,” you told him, smiling and biting your lip, looking him over, “is that all from tennis, mr. donaldson? your arms are so big,” and you were squeezing at his bicep with your manicured hands, watching him in a way that made his heart stutter.

“it’s- yeah, it’s all from tennis. i mean, i work out too, but tennis is most of it,” he cleared his throat, trying to regain some semblance of composure, “i think you’re drunk, sweetheart. do you want me to call you an uber? or do you have someone that can come pick you up? this was right- the ethical thing to do. to send you off and shake this from his mind and steer clear from now on.

“i don’t wanna go home,” you sighed, leaning your head back on your chair dramatically, “my driver will be here in an hour and a half. i’ll be fine,”

“you had seven glasses, i think fine is an exaggeration,” he mumbled, “let me take you home. i don’t want anything to happen you,” he didn’t want any guys to take advantage of you- didn’t want them to do the very things he was thinking of at that moment.

to his surprise, you agreed, and he suddenly wasn’t sure if it was relief or dread he felt. when he stood to leave, you stood with him, pulling yourself up by his arm and letting your touch linger once again, looking up at him and smiling so sweetly it was hard to believe you’d been throwing back drinks all night.

“come on, darlin,” he led you outside, opening doors and excusing the two of you, calling the valet and waiting patiently. he tried to train his eyes anywhere but you, looking entirely too long at the fountain, at the other cars, anywhere but your legs and your curled hair and your- “mr. donaldson,” your voice disturbed him once again, “it’s really cold,”

he glanced over, and you were shivering in the night air, holding your arms around your chest tightly. he acted before thinking, like he always did with you, and shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it over your small shoulders lightly. “that better?” he asked softly, concern knitting his brows. you nodded, thanking him and taking the fabric into your hands, pulling it tighter around you.

“mr. don-“ “please, call me art,” it came out almost pained, but he truly didn’t know if he could take it anymore, the mr. and the way you looked at him, and then oh god- “okay, art,”

this was so much worse, his first name on your lips like that. he nearly choked on air, his cheeks reddening like a fucking high schooler. before he could dwell on it, the valet pulled his car around, tossing him the keys with a smile. he opened the door for you, looking over the car to avoid having to see your thighs sliding against the leather seat.

when he settled into the drivers side, pulling out of the lot, you finally spoke again. “your car is nice,” you hummed, tracing your fingers over the leather interior. he watched you, entranced, as he sat at a stop light. the way your fingernails scraped slightly over the fabric, the way you glanced over at him, a coy little smile on your lips.

he tried to ignore it, to just focus on the road. he maintained it for the most part, making it all the way to your street before he let it slip, glancing over at you. you looked to be half asleep, all curled up in his suit coat, your heels discarded in the floor and your feet tucked into the seat. you looked so peaceful, so angelic, he had to force his eyes away so he didn’t wreck his car.

he pulled into the drive, letting it idle just outside your gate, reaching over to touch your shoulder gently. “hey, sweetheart, you’re home,” he murmured, trying not to startle you awake, “come on, you gotta get up,”

you made a little noise as you stirred, turning in the seat to look up at him, yawning quietly. “thank you,” you said softly, and the air was suddenly so thick, it was so warm and you were so fucking beautiful- “will your wife be wondering where you are?”

all the breath left his lungs at that, at the presumption in your tone, the way you glanced him over as you asked. “ex wife,” he choked out, “we’re not- we got divorced,” “mm,” you hummed, smiling slightly, “that’s a shame. i’m sorry to hear that,”

“don’t be,” he said a little too quickly, “you really should go, darlin. it’s late,” you sat back to unbuckle your seatbelt, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to him carefully. “thank you again for the ride, art,” you said quietly, “it was really sweet of you. most guys would’ve tried something,”

the image was almost too much for him to bear- the thought of trying something with you, of getting to touch you, to make you come undone right there in the passenger seat of his car. he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat, struggling to focus. “well, most guys are stupid,” he muttered, “you’re obviously too drunk to do anything,”

you let out a little laugh at that, shaking your head. “you’re so chivalrous,” you smiled, “maybe it’s because you’re older. i’m so tired of guys my age,” jesus christ, he was a goner. “yeah?” he exhaled shakily, “you’re tired of them? why’s that?”

“they just don’t know how to treat a woman,” you shrugged, “they’re rushed and greedy and assholes,” you giggled quietly, “you know how it is. i’m sure you have younger girls hanging all over you,” god, he wanted to. “no, no,” he shook his head quickly, “i don’t- i don’t want to take advantage of anyone that way,”

you leaned a little closer, the smell of your perfume suddenly clogging his senses, “well let me know if you ever change your mind,” you whispered, the heat blowing through the vents nearly drowning out the sound.

“sweetheart, you don’t- you’re drunk,” he managed to get out, his hands itching to grab at you, to do something. “i’m not that drunk,” you argued, pouting slightly, “anyway, i’m just saying. you have my number,”

you turned to get out, and he knew it was stupid, knew it was reckless and a bad idea and he’d regret it tomorrow and you were young and he was such a bad person, but then he was kissing you and you made a soft little preening sound and he knew he’d never regret it, not truly. he’d be a bad person if it meant he got to do this again, if he got to be the one to make you make that sound.

you kissed him back, draped across his center console to reach him, your hands on his shoulders and grabbing at his dress shirt and he could’ve lost it right there, could’ve pushed the seat back and pulled you into his lap and fucked you stupid, could’ve made you see what you were missing with all the boys your age. and he was sure you would’ve let him, if the noises you made from just his kisses were any indicator.

but then the motion light at your gate was on, and he was yanking away from you like a criminal caught, his eyes wide as he looked at your blown out pupils and smeared lipstick. “oh, shit,” you said under your breath, fixing your dress and grabbing your heels, “my dad tried to call my cell, i didn’t even notice. thank you again, art. i’ll see you at the club,”

and then you were gone, leaving the scent of your perfume and the tent in his slacks behind. he watched you put in the gate code and disappear behind it, his mind running wild with what he could’ve done to you.

when he got home, he tried to shower it off, to wash off the all consuming need he felt for you, the sins he’d nearly committed in his car. but his hands wandered and soon he was cursing and moaning your name under his breath as he came undone under the shower stream, images of you and that dress playing like a film in his mind.

when he got into bed and checked his phone, he had one unread message.

‘i had fun tonight. goodnight, art. x’

[fadedtoneverland]

[12:24am] silver & sin | j.wy

cw: smut, gn!reader, bad boy!wooyoung, dom!wooyoung, wooyo has a dick piercing, woo is reckless & pushing reader’s patience

this filth came into my mind out of nowhere. remember to listen to your partner’s concerns, this is strictly fantasy!!

thinking about bad boy wooyoung… who is a little too reckless for his own good. when going into the relationship with him, you knew your life was about to make such an interesting turn.

it’s not like you could talk wooyoung out of most of the dumb shit he’s done, and you didn’t really mind that much as long as he didn’t get hurt too much. that’s what drew you to this enigma of a man in the first place.

sneaking down in the abandoned subway to spray paint some anti-capitalist mural? hell yeah. getting high off of shitty marijuana to make out in his jet black honda civic? absolutely. as long as he didn’t get hurt.

which is why you were completely against the idea of him getting his dick pierced.

your man’s already got that sexy lip ring and seductive ear studs. but down there. baby, his cock was sculpted by the gods so good, that they probably nutted from their own creation. he didn’t need anymore modifications.

“but babeeee, it would feel so good!” is what he said. you can’t lie, that sounded a little tempting.

you almost caved too. seeing your normally stoic, cold-faced boyfriend, practically groveling at your knees because he wanted to stab an extra piece of silver through his baby maker, it kinda amused you.

but you were better than that, that’s what you told yourself. you didn’t want wooyoung to deal with the healing process, and the possible infections that came with it. even though this little punk pouted, he listened to you. he didn’t want to upset his lover after all.

though after that, you guys stopped having sex for weeks.

at first, you didn’t think much of it. wooyoung claimed he was busy with planning events with his usual gang. you didn’t pry too much into it, considering you know how outgoing your man is. plus, you were also occupied with your own plans.

still, the moment wooyoung initiated some fun activities with you through neck kisses, how could you say no?

it was steamy. spicy. just the way you liked it. you both were getting soooo into it. you were all over wooyoung, straddling his lap and kissing him like crazy. he teased you for being so needy, but can he blame you? you practically went months without him inside you.

he made you keep your eyes on him the entire time, said it was for the mood. you didn’t second guess it, just gazed into those seductive, onyx eyes while he undid his pants, shoving them down just enough to free his aching erection.

“come sit on my cock, baby,” he sighed breathlessly, like he’d die without you getting fucked by him. you complied, kept your eyes on him the entire time while you sank down onto his perfect, thick cock.

only… something felt a little different this time.

as you slowly rocked your hips, little puffs of air leaving your kiss swollen lips, you couldn’t ignore the little, metallic sensation that dragged inside your inner walls. you frowned a little, and wooyoung seemed to notice, judging by how he chuckled deeply at your face.

“mmmh, took ya long enough to notice, honey.” wooyoung slurred out lustfully, bucking his hips upwards to make sure you really felt it.

you froze.

“you got your dick pierced??” you hashed out, voice strained from disbelief and pure pleasure. wooyoung’s smirk widened. the little shit.

“guilty as charged.” he smugly said, hands gripping your hips tighter.

“so this is why you’ve been putting off having sex? because you were letting it heal-!?” you choked up, feeling the prince albert drag sinfully across your velvety walls. “you— you’re fucking insane-!”

thrust.

you moaned. long and loud. that felt way too fucking good.

a triumphant smirk made its way to wooyoung’s face. “what’s the matter, doll face?” he teased, fucking into you from below.

“don’t like it?”

you glared down at him, trying to save face while getting absolutely destroyed by his cock and new silver jewelry. you can’t believe it, this fucker ignored your warnings and got the one thing you told him not to.

and the worst part? he’s fucking winning, because your joke just keeps clenching around his shaft so tightly every time the piercing brushes against that sweet spot.

wooyoung groaned loudly.

“damn, baby. you’re so fuckin’ tight—“ he moaned, shamelessly loud. “mmmnghh… might have to get m’nother one if you’re gonna be this responsive..”

and fuck. a sick little part of you hopes he does.

because this sensation was just too good to let go.

—

fadedtoneverland © 2025 | do not steal, modify or repost ANY of my work.

[thewickedbohemian]

but there's a part of me that just responds to that with wanting Democrats to (in whatever secret way would be least likely to activate the right dystopian fiction tropes to mean the world ends when it's saved because we were an entertainment simulation all along) find those kids and secretly educate them and if we can't get the people health care as secretly start working on a way to bring back the dead

Because sure some things are truly impossible but some things are only impossible if we keep telling ourselves that they are and realism/discernment or w/e doesn't mean assuming everything will go bad/be unstoppable it means knowing what you actually can change otherwise might as well just say if not that he'll somehow defy spacetime/laws of logic and physics to go back and make himself retroactively become all gods and kings (or at least all but the women famous for being/having love interests, that'd be too gay) so no one but him would have any sort of power then at least that he'd do whatever is the closest actually possible thing to that