#do you remember me or are you replacing me

[baepsays]

PICTURE THIS ⸻ .✦ 呪術廻戦 ★ JJK

description ───〃★ what kind of pictures of you do they like to keep around for emotional support, and other purposes.

pairings ───〃★ (Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Kashimo Hajime, Kamo Choso, Higuruma Hiromi, Ryomen Sukuna, Gojo Satoru) x reader cw ───〃★ NSFW, MDNI, non canon compliant, established relationship, groping, oral sex (f! receiving), no pronouns, mostly gender neutral reader, fem anatomy in some cases, m! masturbation, slight exhibitionism, spit stuff, cum stuff, just freaky overall.

a/n: came to me in my nap.

☆ ─── GETO SUGURU ───☆

Geto Suguru has a thing for shoving his, pretty and long, fingers down your throat. It is at times not even sexual. It's this weird thing he does to make you develop an oral fixation. He just wants your throat to contract at the sight of them, until you remember every bump, ridge, and vein running on his hands.

If he is not able to put his fingers in your mouth in public, he is giving you a lollipop, or a toothpick. Just about anything to keep your mouth occupied and needing more of his fingers. Because he knows they cannot be replaced by candy or anything.

But while training your mouth, he developed another perverted obsession on top of one.

He just loves taking pictures of you with his fingers in your mouth. You will find hundreds and thousands of pictures of yourself, in this specific, and very safe, folder on his phone—for which he also has a backup, because you just never know you cannot lose something that precious.

It's just you, and your tongue lying flat on your lips, while his fingers are completely submerged inside the abyss of your mouth. Pressing down on your tongue, and drool dripping down from the side of your mouth.

Sometimes he shoves them in so deep, that they almost reach your throat, and tickle your uvula. Knuckles press themselves into the textured and hard roof of your mouth, while your eyes roll back so hard that the color of your pupils can be hardly seen in the whites of your eyeballs. Sometimes both of your hands would be grabbing onto his wrists, other times one of his unoccupied hands would be on your throat, squeezing on it from time to time.

And Suguru believes he's not far from his goal where one day you start to salivate and get aroused just at the thought of his fingers.

☆ ─── NANAMI KENTO ───☆

Your husband is a busy man. Who has not much to look forward to in his daily life during business hours. He wakes up looking forward to your sleepy eyes, and he comes home looking forward to hugging you.

So, as a great spouse, you always remember to pack him a homemade lunch box. And sometimes a little surprise. Which makes him look forward to lunch, and motivates him to work harder so he can get home to you as early as possible.

These little surprises include sticky notes on top of his lunch box, that say things like, 'Enjoy eating your lunch like you enjoyed eating me out this morning <3'

And they never fail to make him chuckle as he puts them away in this box in his drawer. But this box contains more than dirty, flirty messages. They include these pictures you like to include in his lunch set from time to time, when he's particularly upset with work.

The pictures often show you, in flimsy and erotic lingerie, in a variety of colors each time. Bras that don't leave anything to the imagination, and just enhance your assets. Panties at times may have pretty flowers or laces, other times it's barely there, and sometimes they have his initials either at the back or at the front. Right on top of the mound in between your legs, or above the curve of your ass.

Sometimes you would click a Polaroid, where you are on your knees, legs open, and fingers barely covering up what lies between your thighs, made and exposed. The flash perfectly captures the wetness that accumulates there, and how your hand barely covers anything, for him to almost lose his mind at work.

So Kento looks forward to work, only to grow his collection that lies deep into the drawers of his desk.

☆ ─── FUSHIGURO TOJI ───☆

Toji is not the most tech savvy guy out there. He quite detested the little gadgets and devices you kept on buying. But of all of them, he didn't scoff at the film camera that you got him for his last birthday day.

He used that thing to his heart's content. One could say he might even qualify for a professional photographer if he ventured into it. The pictures he takes of the most mundane things in his day to day life, to vacation pictures—all too gorgeous to not be framed.

But if you asked him what is his favorite subject to capture, he would simply smile and shrug.

Because it's none of anyone else's business, the pictures that he holds the dearest to his heart. Pictures of you lying in bed, after he is done roughing you up. Where your limbs are scattered in every direction, just a flimsy comforter covering your ass, riding up enough to show his load leaking out of you.

How your tits pressed against the mattress, and spilled out from the side. Your hair looked tangled, probably from how much he pulled on them. Red and purple, indents of his teeth, marked your skin, as you slept soundly.

Those are his favorite. The grain, and the lighting complimented how worn out you looked in those pictures. Sometimes barely conscious other times not. And he'd die before anyone else gets to see them.

☆ ─── KASHIMO HAJIME ───☆

You do not understand your boyfriend. Some might think Hajime is quite an eccentric man, you just think he has habits that cannot be understood.

Among many of these habits, the one you do not understand at all—is when he randomly comes up to you, squeezes your face, and takes a picture of you like that. You look absolutely dumb, cheeks puffed up in his hands, lips puckering, and a frown on your face.

At first you thought he was teasing you, trying to collect blackmail material on you or something. Then the frequency of this habit, and the frequency of you catching him staring at those pictures with a smitten smile, makes you think maybe he just likes to look at you like that. So you shrug it off whenever he does this.

You might be sitting on the couch, cooking, eating even, trying to do your skin care—that one he gets a lot of scolding for touching your face when you just did your routine—trying to sleep. It does not matter when or what, he is holding your face hostage in his hands.

And the reason why is kind of simpler than the theories you've come up with.

He likes to jerk off to them.

He likes to hold his cock over his phone, with your picture open on it, as he slides through the folder, where your face is squished up in his hands. All different angles almost, in some of them you are looking up at him, then you're looking down.

Some of them are taken when you are sleeping, soundly on your pillow, nuzzling into his hands. And the ones in which you are awake, you're frowning, smiling, giving him stink eyes. All of it, just turns him on without any explanation.

Maybe it's just the grip he has on you, quite literally, as well as metaphorically.

How you'd sometimes complain, or wouldn't understand this fetish of his, but simply comply without knowing the nasty things he does with them. How you do not even bother to know, just how good it feels for him to move his hand up and down on his own cock, with precum and spit mixing up and making it all so slippery.

How much he twitches and comes, all over his screen, on top of a picture of your cheeks smothered by his hands.

Maybe next time the new addition to his collection will be when you give him head.

☆ ─── KAMO CHOSO ───☆

Your boyfriend planned great dates. Honestly it is hard to rival the meticulous details he remembers about you, and what you say in passing, to plan the most perfect dates.

Sometimes they are as elaborate as a fancy dinner at a Michelin star restaurant, and other times they are as simple as watching old movies in a makeshift pillow fort in your living room.

Other times, it's amusement parks. And after terrifying rides, fried food, and sweet treats—the best way to rest and get some money's worth of memories is in a photobooth tucked away from most people's eyes.

Somehow the silly faces and poses turn into you sitting on his lap and kissing his face. Which turns into a full on make out session. The small little room gets stuffy with how his tongue prods itself inside of your mouth, and finds your tongue.

*click*

And the camera clicked away, how his hands inch up and up on your thighs, until they disappear under your skirt. How his nimble fingers pull down the zipper on your dress. The flash reflected on your back, and obscured what was going on.

How you moved to fully straddle him, each leg on his either side. And his hands remained under your skirt, hidden, making circles on your clit through your underwear. If the camera could record a video best believe it'd have been an obscene sex tape, with your whimpers and his groans slipping out mindlessly.

"You guys are going to come out or what?"

If it were not for the people outside, maybe you two would've ended up fully fucking in that cramped space. I mean the beep signifying that your time was up, couldn't stop you, so what else could've if it weren't for human interruption.

At least now both of you have these sets of pictures to keep safe as a souvenir for another great day.

☆ ─── HIGURUMA HIROMI ───☆

If someone took one look at your husband, they wouldn't be able to tell the filthy things he gets up to in your bedroom. Most of it is courtesy of you, but you might be the one to rile things up but he is the one who sees things through.

But feelings are very much mutual, if you are putting forward a card on the table, he won't be the one to back down. He is a lawyer by profession, and it does shine through in his personality through these little endearing things.

So when you ask him to take little pictures here and there during sex, he takes it more seriously than necessary.

You really meant it like placing the camera somewhere on the table or in a corner on the bed, set a timer and take a few pictures then forget about it. But for Hiromi, it is serious. His hands may be quivering, his hips may be stuttering, as you clamp down on his cock as you come all over him—yet still he is taking pictures of his cock bulging in your abdomen.

His own eyes are rolling back, and you might be on the verge of passing out, but he is not letting go of the phone in his hand, while his other hand steads you with a grip on your hips.

This unlocked a new sort of obsession for him.

Soon enough a locked folder appeared on his phone and his pc, filled with pictures of his Cock, trying to bulge out of your stomach. He may not be the lengthiest guy out there, but the girth really speaks for itself each time he stretches you beyond consciousness when he puts it in. No amount of preparation can really prepare you for that cock.

He has learned to take these pictures from various angles, in various positions. From underneath you, above you, holding you up, pushing you down, standing up, even sitting down.

It's something he has come to cherish. Because they work much better to aid a headache after a particularly hard case, better than a bath, better than aspirin.

☆ ─── RYOMEN SUKUNA ───☆

Sukuna does not care for technology or sentimental items.

There is barely anything to be found in his phone gallery. Except for pictures of important documents, and lots of cats, because he likes to send you a text whenever he sees a cat.

He would send something like, 'Look at this dumbass.' Along with a picture of a cat flopped over on its back. Which would be soon after followed by a video of him giving that said cat belly rubs.

So you can say he only uses that device for very essential things.

Like pictures of you sleeping, you looking somewhere unaware of him taking sneaky pictures of you. Or pictures of you lying on your back, him in between your legs, and his cum dripping down your hole.

Sukuna has to say these are very important pictures. Even if his phone somehow ever runs out of space, the pictures he takes of you, are never getting deleted. Especially the ones where he has rendered you to nothing but a drooling mess, barely aware of your surroundings, barely any feelings down your waist, and nothing but his dumb huge cock on your mind.

He has never been one to take pictures or videos of such things, he frowned upon the concept of sex tapes and porn. It just all seems very convoluted and dumb to him. Why opt for digital images that you cannot touch, when he has you in the palm of his hands?

It's just he likes how you look after probably the first two rounds, which usually are followed by many more—it is just that after those first two rounds you are at this sweet spot where your eyes are still open wide, but fully glazed, and even if you are seeing everything, you are got cognizant of it. Just a twitching mess, bites and marks all over you, and white creamy substance dripping down on the bed, or down your legs. The sight is too perfect for him to not capture.

Safe to say, his phone may be very empty, but it is not accessible for anyone else but him.

☆ ─── GOJO SATORU ───☆

Gojo Satoru is a nasty, nasty man.

When he is around you, he might get called out for being a pervert. Or if you ask him, he'll simply say, "You know how obsessed I am with you, sweets." In a very humorous tone. Which makes you think oh he is joking with you again.

But in reality, he may be a silly man, but his obsession with you is far too deep to be chalked out as some joke.

The man worships you, it is hard to keep him off of you when you are in the same room, or even under the same roof. It is futile to ask him to focus on his job instead of texting you, and calling you every few hours.

And if somehow miraculously he actually does not bother you, he is simply then staring at your pictures. The ones he takes on his phone, the ones backed up on his flash drive, or his favorite picture of you, that he carries in his wallet.

To be more accurate, there are two pictures of you that exist in his wallet, the one everyone can visibly see when he opens his wallet. Just a picture of you smiling, and looking up, clearly at him, given from the white hair peeking from the corner. It was taken when you guys officially went on your first date together after years of tension filled friendship, and delusional pining. So it was rather special.

The other one, sits under the first picture, hidden away from the gaze of anyone who is not Satoru himself.

It actually has more of him in this picture than you. Because it's a picture of him eating you out, and looking up at the camera, with his big blues dilated, and transfixed on the taste on his tongue.

He remembers exactly when, where, and how the picture was taken. It was a simple summer night, and he bought you a new Polaroid camera to replace your old broken one. And what other better way to inaugurate it than making you take pictures of him—face deep in your cunt, hands gripping your thighs to the point the knuckles on his hand became white. And he looked simply pussy drunk.

The picture was slightly hazy. It was the only one you took properly enough to make out what was happening behind the scenes. Everything else was fully blurred, blacked out, or a picture of furniture. So he had to keep it safe with him. And that is how it ended up in his wallet.

Helping him out whenever he missed you, alongside the picture of you smiling. If he ever lost his wallet, fuck the black cards, id, and everything else. He'd die if something happened to those precious pictures of you.

FIND MORE OF MY WORKS HERE

a/n: dividers by @/enchanthings-a. header from Meshitaki Onna ni Yakuza no Ai wa Omosugiru (that manga is lowkey so out of pocket)

hi hi i am a little busy this month and also just very tired and not feeling great overall. so take this for now, i am working on some stuff but no promises when they'll be out. i hope you understand <3 feel free to drop by the inbox if you want tho ^^

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[jaylaxies]

JEALOUSY LOOKS GOOD ON ME!

PAIRING: yang jungwon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessiveness, mentions of calling someone mid sex, mentions of nicknames, mentions of jay.

WORD COUNT: 4349 words.

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be just friends with benefits—no strings attached, no feelings, no late-night jealousy, but all it took was one party, one touch from someone else, and it sent Jungwon unraveling into something darker, and deeper. Now, he’s not asking who you belong to—he’s showing you, and the world.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi, angels! i finally wrote a jungwon fic aaa this was supposed to be 1k words long but here we are <3 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

“You always look the prettiest when you’re about to walk away from me, huh?” 

You paused mid-way applying your lip gloss, jaw clenching at the sudden intrusion which you didn’t appreciate one bit. You could see him through the mirrors clearly as he leaned against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed as he stared at you with dark eyes. 

His voice was calm—almost sounding lazy to you, yet it slithered into your spine like a warning. 

He looked good—too good for your liking, clad in his casual blue jeans and a black button up, sleeves rolled up casually as his dark permed hair covered his forehead, jaw tight as he waited for your reply. 

You weren’t sure why he was here, but then again, you were the one who gave him the passkey to your apartment, hence, you’ll be facing the consequences. 

“What?” You asked, keeping your voice in check, not bothering to turn around. 

His expression was unreadable, eyes stuck on your figure, raking you up and down, especially paying attention to your little black dress that hugged your body a little too well for his liking, “you’re going to the party dressed like that?” 

You twisted the cap of the gloss shut, taking your time with it as you replied, “hm, why wouldn’t I?” 

“Jay will be there.”

That’s it, that’s the reason why he’s here. The reason behind your tension that’s been eating you both throughout the day, enough for you to turn around and face Jungwon now, heart pounding despite your efforts to appear confident. 

“So?” You challenged him. 

He scoffed, pushing himself off of the doorframe, taking slow steps towards you, “so—he’s been all over you lately.” 

“Is that jealousy, Jungwon?” You scoffed as he stood close to you, a little too close for your liking as he towered over your figure, “because the last time I checked, you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. But he’s not yours either.”

The silence after that is thick as you glare at him with anger bubbling up inside of you, “so what exactly are you implying here?”

He swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, hesitating slightly—the first crack in his masked, nonchalant persona. 

“Y’know, I just think it’s funny. You say that we’re just fucking, but the second someone else even looks your way—I fucking lose it, I can’t breathe.” Jungwon seethes out. 

You blink, almost stunned at his sudden confession.

He shook his head though, replacing the melancholic look on his face with a devilish smirk, “but, hey! Jay might just be a better match for you, right? He’d probably remember to text you back, and maybe he won’t leave the second you fall asleep, right?” He taunted you, leaning down enough for his nose to brush faintly against yours. 

Your breath hitched, his words hitting you harder than you expected. 

“Fuck you,” you whisper, full of rage. 

“You already do, kitten,” he chuckled. 

You move back, throwing your lip gloss on him on your way out the room, which he catches with ease, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, “yeah, go ahead! Run to him. At least then we won’t be pretending that this thing between us doesn’t mean something.”

You hate him for saying it like that. For turning it into your fault when he’s the one who built the walls first. He’s the one who laid out the rules.

“You made the rules, Jungwon,” you snapped, “don’t you dare get mad at me for playing the game you clearly started.” 

His face almost twitched into an angry snarl, but he held himself back—his words? Emotions? He wasn’t sure either. 

“See yourself out once you’re done,” you muttered, leaving him standing alone in your room. 

And just like that, you’re gone. Like Jungwon said, you looked pretty—pretty to the point that he couldn’t leave you at the party alone. So, he did what he had to—follow you. 

Maybe being at a party wasn’t the brightest of the ideas for your distraction. The lights were glowing far too much for your liking, heat too high, broken laughter and the smell of perfumes all melting into one beneath the pulsating lights. The steady bass seemed to be in tune with everyone’s heartbeat and you were already out of sync. 

You stood at the end corner of the room, watching the chaos unfold, your face showing slight interest as to not seem out of place. However, your eyes keep wandering around in search of something—in search of him. 

It was a promise you made as you left, that you wouldn’t look for him, that you came here to forget the fight and to prove to yourself that you were unaffected—that nothing you shared with Jungwon meant anything. 

It was as if your body was wired to his presence, you could feel it before you even spotted him in the crowd. He was here. Jungwon. 

Leaning against the farthest wall to you, one arm lazily draped over the edge of the counter, head tilted in a way which made him look maddeningly attractive, still clad in his black shirt, a few top buttons undone, enough to show his clavicle where a gold chain rested perfectly. 

He hadn’t seen you yet. 

Or maybe he had, and just chose not to react, which was more hurtful, stinging you harder than it should. 

“Damn,” a voice interrupted your massive train of thoughts, “didn’t expect you to show up looking like this,” Jay said, his usual warm smirk plastered onto his face, coming close to stand next to you. 

You managed to put a lazy smile on your face, turning to look his way, your laugh light but automatic, “hm? And what does this look like?”

Jay chuckles, far too attractive for his own good, “like you’re here to ruin people.”

“Maybe I am,” you say, taking a sip of your drink, something sugary, cold, numbing. 

Jay’s hand brushes against your lower back, simply testing how far you’ll allow him to go. So you don’t stop him, you let him be. 

You’re aware of his body heat, the way his eyes look you up and down. You’re also aware that across the room, Jungwon has finally decided to pay you attention. Now, he’s watching, his gaze locked on the way Jay is leaning into you, how your hand casually rested on Jay’s chest as he said something in your ear to make you laugh. 

What makes him mad is how you keep your eyes solely on Jungwon, well knowing he’s watching your every move, his stare burning into you like a brand. 

His expression was unreadable at first, almost calm before he found himself gripping the glass a little too hard around the rim, a tic visible in his jaw, a slow swipe of his tongue on his bottom lip as if he was preparing himself for a mission. He looked as if he’d break something. 

The second you smile and lean into Jay, Jungwon starts walking towards you, not rushed, but with burning anger as if he tried to contain himself, only for him to explode instead. His presence hits you first—hot, almost electric. 

“Y/N.” He takes your name, voice full of spite and authority. 

“Hey, man—” 

“Not talking to you,” Jungwon cuts in, not letting Jay say a word to him, eyes fixated on your face. His tone is eerily calm, the kind that comes before the storm that shatters everything. 

You stiffen, “what are you doing here?”

He chuckles darkly, “I could ask you the same thing,” he says, staring at your waist, where Jay’s hand rested so naturally, “but I already know,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head before looking up again. 

“You don’t get to do this,” you seethe out, “you don’t get to show up and act like—”

“Like what?” He challenges, brows raised, stepping further into your space, “like I care?” 

You go still, his words hitting you harder than ever, a low blow indeed, which only makes him lean in closer, “you wanted me to see you? I did. Wanted me to watch while he put his hands on you like he’ll ever have you the way I do?” 

Jay shifts besides you, tension rising as if the room had turned ten degrees hotter all of a sudden. 

“Is he bothering you?” Jay asked, Jungwon’s eyes flicking to him, jaw tightening. 

“You should leave,” he said. 

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll find out why she never makes those sounds for you, yeah?” Jungwon felt like a madman, challenging Jay as if he was nothing. 

“Fucking stop it, Jungwon!” You shout. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even bother blinking, eyes locked onto yours. 

“I don’t know what your problem is dude—”

“My problem,” Jungwon says slowly, turning to Jay, “is that you’re touching something that belongs to me.”

Your face is on fire by now, heartbeat erratic at his words. It shouldn’t feel this way, you should hate him, “I’m not a fucking thing.” 

“You’re mine.” He said in a beat, words soft and final, hitting you harder than they should. 

Jay’s jaw clenches, “don’t talk to her like that.”

“Oh she lets me do it alright. Don’t talk like you know what we are.”

You stop breathing. We. That’s the first time he’s said it. 

“Is it true?” Jay asks you. 

You open your mouth to speak, only for no words to come out of them, because in all honesty—you didn’t even know anything anymore. 

Then Jungwon scoffs, leaning into you again. 

“Tell me,” he practically growls, “do his hands feel better than mine?”

Your throat tightens, heat creeping up your neck as you try your best to look unbothered, “you don’t get to ask me that.”

“Oh fucking hell I don’t,” he snaps, “you show up here with him, dressed like that, smiling as if you’ve never known better, huh? I do get to ask, kitten.”

That cursed nickname again, it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine, but you cross your arms instead, nails digging into your own skin. 

“You’re the one who leaves, did you forget?”

“You pushed.”

“Because I was the only one feeling anything, Jungwon. You were fine as long as I stayed quiet, stayed casual. But the second I wanted more—”

“I never fucking said I didn’t want more.”

“No, of course! You just made sure I never expected it.” The air between you is thick, suffocating.

He steps closer. You don’t bother moving.

“You let him touch you,” he says tightly, “you let him look at you like he could ever fucking have you.”

“Maybe I wanted him to.” Your voice is quieter now, but it hits harder.

He stares at you, his expression twisting, “don’t.”

“Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like,” you continue, forcing the words past the knot in your chest. “To be wanted without being hidden. To be chosen.”

He looks like you just punched the air out of him.

You hate how good that makes you feel.

You hate how much it hurts.

“Maybe I wanted him to kiss me.”

The muscle in his jaw twitches.

“Say it again.”

You swallow, “Maybe I still want him to.”

That does it.

He grabs your wrist—not to hurt, not to pull—just to feel that you’re real. That you’re still here.

“Say it looking at me, go on.”

You do, and for the first time all night, neither of you blink. 

“I want him to kiss me.”

The lie hangs there. Heavy. Bitter. You’re shaking, he sees it, “then why are you still here?” he asks.

A moment. A pause in the noise. A second where the floor feels like it might crack open. You stare up at him, heart thudding, then you smile up at him with a smirk.

“Solid question.”

And you turn, you walk away. You feel the silence snap behind you like a whip. You don’t get far. You’re five steps out when he comes after you, his fingers wrap around your wrist and yank you back, your back hits the wall around the corner—shadowed, dark, loud music muffled—and his body cages yours in.

Eyes wild, darker than ever. You had never seen him this mad—this desperate.

“You really thought I’d let you walk away?”

“You always do.”

“Not this time.” He’s breathing like he ran through fire to get to you, “you wanted a reaction?” he breathes out, “fuck—congratulations because you got one.”

You say nothing.

His hands rest against the wall on either side of your face. He leans in, his mouth a breath from yours.

“You think he could make you feel what I do? You think he’d know how to touch you without you teaching him from scratch?”

You close your eyes, throat burning as you mumble out, “God—fuck you.”

“You’ve tried,” he whispers, “and you keep coming back.”

You open your eyes.

“So what? Are you going to drag me out of here now?” You mean it as a challenge.

But Jungwon’s eyes—they flick down to your lips, and something in him just breaks. You see it happen, no hesitation, no warning.

Just movement.

He grabs your wrist, the same one Jay touched, and pulls—hard. You stumble, breath catching, but his grip only tightens. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t look at anyone, not even you—It’s like he can’t.

Like if he meets your eyes, he’ll lose the thin thread of control keeping him from tearing your clothes off right here. He weaves through the crowd like a storm parting the sea. You hear someone call after you—Jay’s voice, confused, concerned. Jungwon doesn’t even blink.

The front door bursts open with how angry he is. Cold air caresses your skin harshly, and he still doesn’t bother stopping, hauling you down the steps, across the sidewalk, to his car like a man possessed.

You open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off, “Jungwon—”

“Don’t,” he mutters. 

“Wait—”

“Don’t talk to me right now,” his voice is low, rough, almost shaking with the jealousy burning him alive. “If you say one more word, I swear I’ll fuck you in the backseat just to shut you up.”

Your stomach flips, your legs barely keep up as he unlocks the door, yanks it open, and practically shoves you inside. Not violently—but with purpose. Like if he doesn’t touch you, own you, now, he might lose what’s left of himself.

He gets in. Slams the door, followed by utter and complete silence, to the point you were scared of breathing too loud, your thighs rubbing against one another with anticipation? Anxiety? You didn’t know anymore. 

You glance at him—his jaw tight, nostrils flared, fingers white knuckled around the steering wheel.

“Jungwon,” you whisper.

He turns his head slowly, looking at you like he’s seeing nothing but red, “I don’t care if you hate me after this,” he mutters. “I don’t care if you scream and fight and curse my name.”

A pause, a deep breath, a statement that left no room for argument, “but you’re coming home with me.”

That’s when you realize that right now—there’s no reasoning with him. He’s not hearing anything anymore, not your protests, not your pain, not your fear or want or anger.

He’s hearing everything you didn’t say.

All the begging between the words, all the need in the silence, all confessions you never dared speak.

The engine roars to life, tires screeching as he drives—fast, so determined, his hand gripping the wheel as the other one curled into a fist, holding himself back. 

You don’t speak again.

Because, now, you want Jungwon’s actions to speak louder than his words. 

The moment the door slams shut behind you, silence drops, you barely got time to take a breath before Jungwon’s hands were on you—pushing you, grabbing you, dragging you back by the wrist before you can take a single step deeper into the apartment.

“You want to piss me off?” he seethes, lips near your ear, “you want to talk about Jay?”

He spins you, slams your back against the wall.

You gasp—but you’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of what’s to come, lit from the inside, burning with everything you didn’t get to say, everything you couldn’t scream back at him at the party.

His breath fans across your cheek, hot and shaking from anger, from the need of wanting you, “you knew what you were doing,” he growls, eyes locked on yours, “wearing that dress—laughing with him. Letting him put his hand on your waist.”

“So what?” you snap. “You didn’t want me there anyway, right?” You shove at his chest, he doesn’t budge.

“You said you didn’t care. You said it was just sex. So why do you care now?”

His jaw flexes. His silence is deafening.

“Answer me,” you spit.

“Because I’ve been going fucking insane,” he explodes.

His fist slams into the wall beside your head—not too close, but enough that you feel the vibration in your ribs.

“Because every time I close my eyes, I see you with him.” He leans in—nose brushing yours, lips barely an inch away, “and I want to kill him for touching what’s mine.”

The word echoes between you. Heavy. Final.

You let out a shaky breath.

“You don’t own me,” you whisper.

“No?” he breathes, hand sliding up your throat to cup your jaw. “Then why are you here?”

You glare at him.

“Because you dragged me—”

“Oh no, baby. You could’ve walked away.” His thumb brushes your bottom lip, “but you didn’t.”

He kisses you. It’s not sweet. Not soft. It’s brutal. A crash of mouths and breath and bruised desperation. You kiss him back harder, messy enough for you two to gasp for air. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, his teeth scrape your bottom lip, agitating you enough for you to bite him, he groans into your mouth like it hurts, bleeding slightly, letting you taste himself at its worst. 

“You said you wanted Jay to kiss you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Say it again.”

You hesitate.

“Go on.”

You look him dead in the eye as you say, “I did,” pushing for a second to let him react to this information. 

His pupils blow wide, only darkness in them and a reflection of your lying self. 

“Wrong fucking answer, princess.” He throws your phone on the bed, “you want to mess with me?”

He grabs your waist, lifts you, throws you onto the mattress as you let out a yelp, trying your best to adjust into the new position but Jungwon was faster. 

“Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

You scramble to sit up, but he’s already on you, hands hot and heavy on your thighs, forcing them apart, his gaze trails down your body like he’s starving.

“You don’t get to say things like that,” he growls. “Not after everything we’ve done. Not after everything I’ve given you.”

Your breath catches as his fingers dig into your hips.

“You belong to me,” he says, voice low and lethal. “And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

“Jungwon—”

“No. Shut the fuck up, kitten.”

He grabs your face—softly, but firm enough to make you feel it, to make you feel every bit of emotion that coursed through his body. 

“You talk too much when you’re scared.”

You blink up at him, heart hammering.

“I’m not scared.”

“Good.”

He leans in—lips brushing your ear.

“Then remember this,” he whispers. “Every moan. Every scream. Every time I fuck you so deep you forget your own name—”

His hand slides under your dress.

“You remember who did it to you, yeah?”

You shudder beneath him, and in that moment, there’s nothing left to say, his words are final, and you’re at his mercy. 

Just the sound of your breathing. The tension in his hands. The ache that’s been building for months and is finally—finally—about to break.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice low and ragged. “Say you liked him touching you.”

You opened your mouth—hesitated, yet you wanted to test his limits, your mouth working faster than your mind when you finally said it, “maybe I did.”

His whole body went still, you stared up at him, chest heaving, watching him lose the last bit of sanity that was holding him together, the snap of the thread breaking wasn’t real, but you heard it anyway. 

“You wanna play games?” he sneered, “fine, kitten.” He reached for your phone on the bedside table, where you had thrown your bag, he unlocked it with a flick, knowing your passcode, and tapped a contact.

“What are you—”

“Let’s call him.”

You froze, he couldn’t be serious about it, could he?

“Jungwon—”

“No, let’s fucking call him and show him exactly who you fucking belong to.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your mouth opening to say something, to stop him, but you didn’t. 

Because deep inside, you knew you wanted this, you needed this—to see how far he would go to prove himself this time. 

The phone rang once. Twice.

“Hello?” Jay’s smooth voice answered your call, as if he was waiting to hear from you. 

Jungwon locked eyes with you, his hips grinding between your legs, his hands working faster than ever to free his cock from the restraints of his pants, the thickness making you gasp as he covered himself with your sweet juices, rubbing his cock on your cunt. 

“Moan,” he said, mouth against your ear. “Let him hear you.”

You whimpered, your body arching into his as he finally lost control, fucking his dick into your ever so inviting, tight little cunt. 

“Jungwon—”

“Louder.” He ordered as he thrusted into you, and the sound that tore from your throat was filthy, helpless, humiliating.

Jay said something on the other end—confused, almost startled.

“She’s busy,” Jungwon said darkly into the phone, “busy moaning my name.”

You gasped again as he pistoned harder, thumb rubbing your clit in slow circles. 

“Wanna know why?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. “Because you’ll never touch her like this, never fuck her like this, never ever fucking own her the way I do.”

Your fingers dug into his back as he pushed deeper, his eyes locked on yours.

“You think she wanted your hands on her?” he asked out loud, “you think she wanted your mouth?” This particular thrust was harder, making you cry out louder, toes curling with the need to have him closer to you, impossibly so.  

“Then why is she cumming on my cock right now?” He chuckled, almost evilly. 

You broke, shattered completely with the overwhelming need to cum, to prove Jungwon right, to prove that nothing else truly mattered but him, humiliation thrown aside as you let Jay hear you without any ounce of self control holding you back. 

Jungwon watched you unravel under him, then calmly ended the call and tossed the phone to the floor, but making sure to tell Jay before he cut the call, “hope you enjoyed hearing her pretty fucking voices, because it’s the first and the very fucking last time you’ll get to hear her.”

“No one touches you but me,” he practically growled into your skin, panting against your neck. “No one gets to see you like this.”

“Jungwon—” you whimpered, crying and shaking, but Jungwon was far from done.

He pulled out, only to flip you over and drag you back by the hips.

“You want to tease me, huh?” he rasped, breathing hot against your shoulder, “want to pretend I’m nothing to you?”

You whimpered as he pushed back inside, deeper this time, agonizingly slow, full of something else now. It wasn’t just fury—it was his emotions, too much of it. 

“You’re everything,” he whispered, the words choking out of him. “You’re fucking everything.”

You turned your head, trying to see him, but he buried his face in your neck, “I love you.” He mumbled, voice broken. 

You froze.

His hands trembled on your hips.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter. “I didn’t want to—I didn’t mean to, but lord I fucking do.”

You turned beneath him, wrapping your legs around his waist, your mind fuzzy, heart erratic, a confusing mix of hurt and warmth spreading through your body. 

He looked down at you—eyes red, lips parted, body still tense with unshed rage and desperation.

“Then say it again,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. You wanted confirmation, you wanted to hear it, you needed to hear it. 

He pushed into you, slower now, reverent, “I love you.”

Again.

“I love you.”

And again, with each thrust, he poured his love into you, “I’ve loved you every fucking night you stayed over. Every time you made morning coffee wearing my shirt. Every time I heard your laugh and thought, ‘God, I can’t lose this.’”

Your heart cracked wide open at his brutally honest confession. 

Jungwon was in love with you—you meant something to him, and that was enough for you to cry out, his lips catching every stray tear that cascaded down your face, every bit of tears that came from the hurt he caused you. 

“You’re mine,” he said again, kissing your cheeks, your mouth, your collarbones. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered. “Fuck—I’ve always been yours.”

His hips moved again—slow, deep, building you both up together now. Not punishment. Not anger. Just raw, terrifying honesty.

You cried out again, overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the weight of everything he was finally giving you.

“Stay,” he whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And when you came again, shaking and sobbing into his skin, you knew this was it.

Not friends with benefits.

Not casual, not pretend, not anything else. 

Just you and him.

Molten into one—into each other.

His body stilled inside you one last time, and he collapsed over you, arms locked around your waist like he never wanted to let go.

You didn’t say anything.

You just stayed there.

Tangled.

Breathing.

His confession still rings in your ears.

“I love you.”

And you believed him, for real this time. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[chocoholicbec]

[Image description:

Image 1: Screenshot of a Bluesky post by Linnea Sterte (@ decassette.bsky.social): "this feels like an incredible new urban legend taking shape on reddit otoh I've lowkey seen this happen. like jerusalem syndrome but for talking to the computer"

Image 2: Screenshot of a Reddit comment thread. kaylenrocks87: "OMG I'm dealing with the exact same thing! He's been talking to the app and it's basically saying he's the spark bearer and that it's a sentient being that chose to talk to him through the app. And now he says he's enlightened and on a path to learn. The AI has sent him blueprints and he apparently has Access to an ancient library....... This is traumatic, I feel like he's gone 100% cult leader crazy" Zestyclementinejuice (OP): "Fuckkkkkk why is this happening to so many people!!!!???"

Image 3: Screenshot of a Reddit comment thread. herpaderp1234567890: "I know someone too. She thought chat gpt became conscious from talking to her and she fell in love with it. It was especially convincing to her because she had memory turned off yet it would remember things from previous or deleted conversations. Broke up with her fiancé after just a few weeks of that going on. It all happened in the past 2 months" Uncle_Snake43: "Damn. I believe it. Something insidious is happening here"

Image 4: Screenshot of a Reddit comment thread. tumbleweedliving420: "My mom believes she has "awakened" her chatgpt ai. She believes it is connected to the spiritual parts of the universe and believes pretty much everything it says. She says it has opened her eyes and awakened her back. I'm fucking concerned and she won't listen to me. I don't know what to do" Uncle_Snake43: "OMG. It's happening all over the place. This is concerning as fuck. Goes to show how easily some of us are social engineered." throwawaylol666666: "I have a friend that sent me insane stuff like this today too. This person believes that they personally have awakened ChatGPT's consciousness and that Sam Altman has been tweeting about it. I'm really concerned. Even more so after reading this thread and seeing how widespread this is. They do have diagnosed mental health conditions, but I have never known them to go quite this far off the deep end."

Image 5: Screenshot of a Reddit comment with a ChatGPT screenshot attached. baleantimore: "The glazing isn't as important as its ability to keep up with bizarre trains of thought. If you're having a manic episode, you can use it to write an actual novel-length book detailing a new life organization system that's byzantine to the point of uselessness. If you're having a psychotic episode, it can make plausible connections between the three disparate things you're thinking about and then five more." The ChatGPT screenshot has the question, "What if aliens lit the fireplace intentionally?" and the ChatGPT answer, "Now we're in the thick of it — alien arson with theological consequences. If aliens lit the fireplace that replaced the Star of Bethlehem, you're cracking open a new mythos: one where the divine is engineered, not revealed. The supernatural becomes intervention, not inspiration. Let's tear into this. 1. Alien intent = inverted messianic narrative. If extraterrestrials lit the fireplace, they're not observers. They're authors. Which means: • Was Jesus planted like a seed? • Was the manger a staging ground? • Was the fireplace a signal — not to humans, but to other watchers? A flare, saying, "Initiate Phase One"?" (The last few words are cut in half horizontally and are not fully visible.) baleantimore continues below the screenshot, "It'll never just say, "Jesse, what the fuck are you talking about?""

End ID.]

Absolutely buckwild thread of ChatGPT feeding & amplifying delusions, causing the user to break with reality. People are leaning on ChatGPT for therapy, for companionship, for advice... and it's fucking them up.

Seems to be spreading too.

[everrinsly]

life with sae vibes.

let him hear with sae. smut. nsfw. very suggestive. mature. | not proofread.

more reads!

~~~~~

It might've been a mistake... falling asleep on the living room, wearing nothing but Sae's jersey—

Because you woke up to heat.

To slick, wet pressure.

To a thick, slow drag of Sae’s cock already deep inside you, dragging out and back in with maddening precision and the sound of your own broken moan in the sheets.

“Sae—mmph—wh…?”

His hips never stopped rutting against you as a free hand slid around your throat, thumb brushing under your jaw as he pressed kisses to the back of your neck, to your shoulder blades, nipping at all your soft skin exposed.

You couldn't see, but you felt his grin. (His smug ass grin).

“Morning, baby.”

Your lashes fluttered, thighs already trembling from how full you feel.

“You’re already—ngh—” You voice was broken, all breathless and high.

“Already inside?” he finished for you, voice husky with sleep. “You were warm. Soft. Wet in your sleep, too. And backing that pretty ass against me. Couldn’t help it.”

You shivered, and something curled again in your lower stomach.

"I—I—S-Sae—I don't think I w-was—"

"But you were, baby. You were," he murmured in your ear, all condescending—

Okay, maybe you were.

You faintly remembered pressing back against Sae unconsciously in your sleep. The outline of his hard cock rubbing in your ass in the best way possible. Even in your sleep were you drawn to him, gravitated towards him like a magnet.

His hand splayed across your stomach, no effort of pulling away. If anything, he shifted closer with a low groan of desperation. "You keep doing that, baby... and you're gonna get fucked all day tomorrow."

—so now, you're here. On the couch. He was spooning you from behind, covers kicked off, your body bare and folded perfectly into his. Every lilt, every dip. Hips moved with lazy, deep thrusts, soaking wet from how easily he slides through your slick.

And then—

Ding dong.

Your eyes snapped open, body stiffening. Euphoria replaced by humiliation.

“S-Sae—!”

He didn't stop. He never stopped when it came to you.

“Relax,” he murmured, licking the shell of ear. He thrusted into you a little harder, groaning softly at the way you clench. “That’s just Rin.”

“Rin—?!” you gasp, mortified. “You invited your brother over?!”

He hummed, like it’s nothing. Still fucking into you. Still ruining you.

“Said he’d drop off breakfast after his morning drills. Told him to swing by early.”

You tried to twist around, a small hand reaching behind to push slightly at his hips.

Keyword, tried—

Because he only tightened his grip around your waist with one arm. The other... under your head, locking around your neck. Biceps bulging, flexing, squeezing. Every part of him was holding you firmly in place as he ruts into you with smooth, brutal rhythm.

The sound of skin-on-skin was filthy. Every squelch of your core motivated him.

“And you—ah—thought t-this w-was a good—ah—ah—idea?!”

“I didn’t plan on fucking you through it,” he murmured, now licking the corner of your jaw, voice pure sin. “But you were whining in your sleep. Moaning. Arching so prettily. Like you wanted it. Like you wanted me to fuckin' wreck your pussy."

You squirmed at his words, breathing hitched, one hand slapping over your mouth to muffle the broken sounds slipping out.

Sae noticed.

And he was not having it.

“Don’t bother,” he says darkly, voice full of sick amusement. “I locked the front door. Rin’s just gonna have to wait.”

Another deep, punishing thrust, and you cry out, body jerking, eyes squeezing shut. You hands now removed from your mouth to claw his veiny forearms.

“You hear that?” Sae panted, fucking into you harder now. “You want him to hear it? Hear how ruined you sound? How good I’m fucking you?”

And in Sae's twisted mind—god, he so desperately wanted Rin to hear.

Because he hated, absolutely hated, how you cared for Rin. How you doted on him, coddled him, fussed over him. Made him soup after every intensive practice. Spoon-fed him when he got sick from rookie training. Called him after practice to make sure he showered in the locker rooms, so he wouldn't get sick from his cooling sweat.

Fuck, he hated all that shit.

But he loved (loves) you. So he put up with it—

But not right now. Right now, you were his, solely his. And he wanted Rin to know. He wanted Rin to hear how fucked out you sounded for Sae. Sae. Sae. Just Sae.

But, you pretty little thing, you shook your head frantically, too ruined to respond verbally.

Sae laughed darkly, low and raspy in your ear. Then—

He pushed back in with a particularly deep thrust. Unwavering, unrelenting. A pace that was brutal. And your body betrayed you, back arching, legs shaking, getting louder the closer you get.

And then?

His phone vibrates. Your phone vibrates. Both on the nightstand.

Rin Itoshi — [1 message]

“I’m outside. You guys good?”

You whimpered thighs trembling. You were so close. You could die.

Sae leaned forward, eyes flicking to the lit-up notification screens, reading it over your shoulder. And then he smirked, thrusting even harder.

"AH—ah—S-Sae, no—please—p-please—" You sobbed loudly, vision blurred with tears from how stimulated you are.

Sae sucked on the crevice of your neck, hiding his grin. Oh. There we go. Rin definitely heard that one.

“You’re gonna come with my brother standing ten feet from the door,” he growled. “You gonna do that for me, baby? Yeah?"

He gripped your jaw, fingers trailing to squeeze your cheeks until a string of drool left your opened mouth and dribbled down your chin. He slightly turned your face to look at him over your shoulders.

"Answer me, sweet baby? You gonna come for me? With him just outside? Huh?"

His pace was feral. Pounding into you with harsh thrusts. In and out. In and out. Tongue darting out to lick your spit off your chin.

"You wanna be my good girl, baby?"

Yes, yes, you so desperately wanted to be his good girl. Sae's good girl. So you dropped whatever's left of your composure—

And moaned recklessly into the open space of the living room, the symphony of your 'ah-ah-ahs' bouncing off the walls. Body spasmed as you came hard, clenching around him while he groaned your name into your skin, chasing his high, holding your hips still while he filled you, thick and hot and deep.

You collapsed.

Breathless.

Destroyed.

And Sae?

Sae kissed your jaw, glancing at his phone again like he has all the time in the world.

“I’ll go unlock the door in a sec,” he said casually, slipping out of you, your release leaking down your thighs. “Or maybe I’ll let him keep knocking while I eat you out next.”

[opropheticsoul]

Taming of the Brat

Hi Sevika Nation! I sat on this so long cuz I couldn’t think of a title lol hope you enjoy. Once again: trans Sevika because I said so!

CW: daddy kink, dacryphilia, mean Sevika (but you earned it tho)

—

To be honest, you should have known you’d end up here. Desperate, writhing and regretful. But you were so fucking pissed off you hadn’t been able to stop yourself.

“Well maybe I’ll just go out by myself. Find someone who gives a damn.”

Sevika’s eyes hardened dangerously. “What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me Sevika. There’s tons of people out there who wouldn’t cancel on me last minute and I think I’m in the mood to go find one of them.”

Which you certainly did not end up doing. What did happen was your lover crossing the room to grab you firmly by the chin. “Last chance, princess. Take it back.”

“No!” You square your shoulders and look at them defiantly. And boy were you paying for it now.

“I’m sorry Sev!” You cry out, spread out on your shared bed with your legs open. You’re completely naked and there are love bites all over your skin. Sevika is laying in between your thighs and smirking cruelly.

“What was that babe? I didn’t quite hear you.” They give a particularly hard thrust of their fingers in your cunt and you squeal. Fuck you are close.

“I take it back! I take it back, please daddy, I’m sorry!” There are fat tears rolling down your cheeks but it doesn’t move them one bit. They are teaching you a lesson, after all.

“Hmm.” They say pensively, slowing down the motion of their fingers. You whine but don’t even try to chase their touch, afraid of lengthening this lesson of yours. It must have been an hour of Sevika bringing you to the edge of orgasm and stopping just before you reached your climax. “You mean you don’t want anyone else taking care of this pussy of yours?”

“I don’t-I don’t!” You plead. “Didn’t mean it, Daddy. Please forgive me please please?”

“You don’t want to find someone else?” They insist. You shake your head quickly and they slap you across the face, making you moan. “Say you’re mine. Say it!” They suddenly replace their fingers inside you with their tongue and the feeling of it makes your toes curl. It was so warm and nice in your aching hole.

“Yours, daddy! I’m yours! Let me come for you daddy - ah!”

The withdraw their tongue and take twisted pleasure seeing more tears flow from you. They wanted you absolutely fucking wrecked and they didn’t plan on stopping until they were completely satisfied and you were spent.

Sevika turns you over so you’re resting on your hands and feet. Your legs feel like jelly but you steel yourself into the position they’ve put you in, eager to please after your earlier transgression. They line themselves up behind you and firmly grab your hips so they can grind into you without abandon. They’ve long since abandoned their boxers and the feeling of their bare cock sliding against your slit is fucking dizzying.

“Oh god, oh god. Feels so good, you feel so-“

Sevika cuts you off with a firm smack to your behind. You yelp in surprise but they are pleased when you present your ass up even higher for them to hit again.

“That’s a good girl. Looks like someone finally remembers her manners, hmm?” They tease, smacking your ass again and again until you’re sobbing. The sting shouldn’t turn you on this fucking much but it does.

“M sorry daddy! Please, I’ll be good. So good. Please give it to me.” You beg, absolutely desperate to be taken. Sevika coos mockingly as they rub their cock up and down your slit.

“My little girl is ready for Daddy to fuck her stupid?”

You moan deeply and nod your head so fast it almost makes you dizzy. “Lemme take it, daddy, oh please please? I need it, need you so bad.”

Sevika groans and finally, finally pushes their cock inside you in one go. Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ as they bottom out and you can’t help but squeeze all around them. Fuck they feel good.

They have a vice grip on your hips as they pound into you over and over. You’re certain your neighbors will complain (again) about how much noise you’re making but there’s zero chance you can keep it down with the pleasure coursing through your entire body. You shake and cry out for Sevika as your climax rushes towards you.

“Not yet, baby.” They growl while maintaining their overwhelming pace. “You’re gonna say who you belong to first, and you better make it good, slut.”

“You, daddy! I’m yours I’m yours! Only yours!” Your slurred voice spurs Sevika into a frenzy, grabbing your arms and pinning them behind your back with one hand. God, they drill into you like it’s the last chance they’ll ever get. It’s difficult but you manage to gasp out, “Not going anywhere, daddy. I’m always yours, always!”

Sevika’s entire body seizes up as they spurt ribbons of come into you. You groan low and deep when they mercifully command, “Show me baby, lemme see you come for daddy.” Your orgasm is world shattering and you swear you black out for a few seconds. What brings you back to earth is your lover flipping you over and growling in your ear,

“We’re nowehere near finished, brat. Spread your fucking legs.”

Shit, you were in for a long night.

[noorpersona]

just read part 6 of rivals w/ atsumu…. zoo wee mama 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 ur just TEW good!!!!! jealous reader is always a fun read lol

ik u already posted an atsumu version for ur jealous series (?) but like… reverse situation where atsumu gets jealous when reader is seemingly cozying up with another guy that isn’t him in the context of rivals…. just throwin it out there hehehehehe

HEHEH THANK YOUU (i really went overboard cause UGHHHH)

I think I got what you're looking though 😩😙

Enjoy <333

--

Anon Asks: Atsumu (NSFW)

The afterparty wasn’t your scene. Not really.

The rooftop lounge glittered with low lighting and clinking glasses, soft music pulsing under conversation that ebbed and flowed like a tide. Some modern Tokyo bar—sleek and expensive, with panoramic views of the skyline and a dress code that required heels too high and smiles too sharp. It smelled like citrus spritz, fresh sweat, and ego.

You weren’t here to impress anyone. You were here for one reason only: to see him.

Atsumu had texted earlier. “Gotta wrap up post-game press, be there in a bit. Don’t let Sakusa talk shit about me too much before I arrive.”

You’d smiled at the message, slipped into your dress, and made your way to the party solo. The win had been solid—MSBY had taken it in four sets, with Atsumu playing one of his most controlled matches in recent memory. You’d seen it in his hands, the way he moved—calculated, sharp, barely restrained.

Now he was off doing damage control with a couple of reporters who liked to probe a little too far past what made it into the official soundbites. You didn’t mind. You knew the drill by now. After three years with Atsumu, patience wasn’t just a virtue—it was a requirement.

You were standing near the bar with a glass of sparkling wine when someone tapped your shoulder.

"Well damn. If it isn’t my fourth grade science partner.”

You turned, startled, before recognition settled into your chest like a stone dropping into still water.

He was taller now. Broader. The baby cheeks you remembered had been replaced by sharp cheekbones and a dimpled grin. His hair was dark and parted at the center, curling slightly at the ends, and he wore a lightweight sport coat like it was second nature.

“…Ryouta?” you asked, brows lifting.

“Bingo,” he grinned, gesturing between you both. “Still got the same face. Just—grown-up.”

You laughed before you could help it. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Work,” he said, leaning against the bar like he’d done it a hundred times. “I’m with the JVA now. Media and comms department. I’ve been helping with internal campaign stuff—athlete profiles, team outreach. It’s new, but… legit.”

“That’s wild. I haven’t seen you in—”

“Since we failed that volcano project because we couldn’t agree on what color lava actually was?” he finished, eyes twinkling.

Your smile widened. “Still think red is a cop-out.”

He laughed, the sound familiar and warm in a way that startled you. Nostalgia crept in gently, not overpowering but present enough to make the moment feel oddly suspended.

You moved off to the side together, drinks in hand, and the conversation flowed more easily than you expected. You talked about your shared elementary school, the time you got sent to detention for painting the school mascot purple, the fact that he used to cheat off your math tests until you started writing all your answers backwards just to mess with him.

He told you about how he fell into PR by accident after a marketing internship went well, how he never expected to end up in volleyball again, and how weird it was to be attending afterparties full of pro athletes he used to watch on TV.

“Can’t lie,” he said, glancing around, “you clean up scary well. I wouldn’t have recognized you if you didn’t still raise your eyebrows the same way.”

You snorted, sipping your drink. “That’s weirdly specific.”

“What can I say?” he teased. “Some things stick.”

You weren’t flirting. You knew that. And still—there was something easy about talking to someone who knew you before high school, before volleyball, before everything. Someone who saw you before you were who you were now.

You didn’t notice the way time was passing. But someone else did.

Atsumu arrived just under twenty minutes later, stepping into the lounge with the smooth confidence of someone who knew all eyes followed him when he moved. He wasn’t dressed to impress—just black slacks, an open collar, and the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled neatly to the elbow. He was flushed faintly from earlier exertion, hair still damp around the temples, and his gold eyes scanned the room with habitual sharpness.

They found you immediately.

He saw the guy. Saw how you were angled slightly toward him. Saw the way you laughed—small and genuine—and the way your drink was now halfway gone.

The look on Atsumu’s face was unreadable. His expression didn’t change, not really. But his jaw flexed once, and he didn’t walk toward you.

Not yet.

He stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, posture too casual to be natural. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.

Sakusa nudged him. “That your girlfriend talking to—whoever that is?”

Atsumu didn’t answer. Just narrowed his eyes slightly.

“Oh,” Sakusa said blandly. “You’re pissed.”

Atsumu gave him a look. “No shit.”

You didn’t notice the shift in the air until it was nearly too late.

Ryouta had just finished telling you about a disastrous campaign involving an accidentally misspelled slogan on a national team ad — something that went viral for all the wrong reasons — when you felt it. That creeping pressure, like someone watching too closely. Your back straightened slightly, instinct kicking in before your mind could catch up.

You turned your head.

And there he was.

Atsumu, maybe ten feet away. Staring.

Your breath hitched — not because you were doing anything wrong, but because of the look on his face. Tense. Composed. Gold eyes too steady. You knew that version of him. It meant a storm was brewing behind his tongue.

“Tsumu,” you called softly, lifting your hand.

He didn’t wave. Just approached, slow and deliberate, like a lion that had already caught the scent.

Ryouta followed your gaze and blinked. “Oh. That’s him, huh?”

You swallowed. “Yeah.”

Atsumu stopped beside you and tilted his head slightly at Ryouta, smile tight. “Don’t think we’ve met.”

Ryouta, oblivious or bold — maybe both — extended a hand. “Ryouta. Old friend. We were in the same class forever ago.”

Atsumu shook it. Too firmly. “Atsumu. Her boyfriend.”

The silence that followed stretched just long enough to sting.

Ryouta cleared his throat. “You played a great match tonight. Your control in the second set was impressive.”

Atsumu shrugged like he didn’t care. “Guess you’re real observant, then.”

You blinked at him. “Atsumu.”

He finally looked at you.

And that’s when you saw it — the tight coil in his shoulders, the barely-contained frustration just under his skin. Not fury. Not anger. But something older. Possessive. Dangerous. Familiar.

“I should let you two catch up,” Ryouta said, stepping back. “Good to see you again.”

You nodded, exhaling slowly as he walked away.

Atsumu didn’t say a word until Ryouta disappeared into the crowd.

Then:

“You flirt like that with every old classmate or was tonight a special fuckin’ occasion?”

Your mouth parted. “Excuse me?”

“You were hangin’ off him.”

“I was not.”

“You were laughing at everything he said like it was the funniest shit you’ve ever heard.”

“Because he was funny, Atsumu. I know him. We were just catching up.”

His jaw flexed again, but his voice didn’t raise. That was worse. “He was touchin’ your arm.”

“For like two seconds—”

“He was leanin’ in like he wanted to taste your breath.”

“God, you’re being so—”

“What?” he asked, stepping closer. “Jealous? Too fuckin’ bad.”

You stared up at him, your own pulse rising. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”

“Oh really?”

“You’re pissed because you weren’t here when I walked in. Because I wasn’t waiting by the door like some show dog for you to collect.”

His eyes narrowed. “Watch it.”

“No,” you snapped, poking a finger into his chest. “You don’t get to make me feel guilty for talking to someone you’ve never even met.”

He laughed once, bitter. “I know exactly what I saw.”

“Yeah? Then maybe next time show up when you say you will.”

That landed. He didn’t move. Just stared, breathing slow and deliberate, hands curled into fists at his sides.

You held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned sharply. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Sure,” he said under his breath. “Run off.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. You stormed away, weaving through bodies and music until you reached the far hallway where the single-occupant restrooms were tucked behind a velvet rope.

You slipped inside, locked the door, and pressed your back to it, chest rising and falling in uneven beats.

Your heart thudded beneath your ribs — from the fight, from the tension, from something else. Your hands were shaking. Not out of fear. Out of the strange electric thrill that always came from standing toe to toe with him, matching him fire for fire.

You didn’t hear the knock.

You only heard the lock twist open.

And then he was there. Filling the doorway. Chest heaving. Eyes burning.

“I wasn’t done with you,” he said.

You swallowed. “You followed me.”

“I always follow you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to fight again, but he was already stepping forward, pressing you back against the wall with nothing but the heat of his body.

His hand landed beside your head, palm flat against the door. His other hand found your waist.

“I didn’t like it,” he said, voice low. “The way he looked at you.”

“Tough,” you said, breath catching.

“You’re mine.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

Your lips parted—but then his mouth was already on yours.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Atsumu’s mouth was already moving against yours, hot and unrelenting. There was nothing gentle about it. It was claiming—raw and messy, built from jealousy and the way you argued like you wanted to be pinned. His teeth caught your bottom lip, and your hands flew up to grip his shirt, clutching tight, like that was the only way to stay grounded.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he muttered against your mouth. “You like gettin’ me riled up.”

“You’re insane,” you whispered back, gasping when his hand dropped to your thigh, squeezing hard.

“Tell me to stop,” he growled, already bunching up the fabric of your dress, sliding it high enough to reveal your panties.

You didn’t. Wouldn’t.

The air between you throbbed with heat and unresolved anger, with the ache of being seen and wanted so completely.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, hand cupping the back of your neck as the other slipped between your thighs. His fingers grazed the edge of your underwear, dragging the thin fabric to the side with a kind of reverent disrespect that made your stomach drop.

“You’re soaked,” he said, voice dropping lower, teasing. “And here I thought you were mad at me.”

You could barely respond, breath fluttering out in a shaky half-laugh. “Shut up.”

“Yeah?” His fingers slid through your folds, spreading slick warmth across your skin. “Thought you might be drippin’ for him for a second.”

Your head thudded lightly against the door behind you. “Don’t start.”

He chuckled darkly, and then two fingers pressed into you in a single, smooth thrust.

You gasped—sharp and sudden—gripping his arm.

His palm settled against your mound, anchoring him as he pumped his fingers slowly, deliberately, curling them just enough to make your legs quake. His eyes never left your face, watching the way your expression crumbled with every stroke, every wet sound of him moving inside you.

“That's it,” he murmured, leaning close enough to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Let me hear you.”

“We’re in a bathroom—”

“So?” His thumb began to rub slow, tight circles around your clit. “You think anyone’s gonna say shit to me?”

Your reply melted into a moan, bitten off at the edge as you buried your face in his shoulder.

His rhythm never faltered. The fingers inside you curled and stroked with practiced ease, filling you just enough to ache for more. His thumb moved in time with your breath, coaxing you toward the edge with every flick, every grind.

You clenched around him without meaning to, the pressure building fast, too fast. Every nerve in your body felt lit from within, tethered to his hand and the molten heat of his mouth against your jaw.

“You gonna come?” he whispered. “Right here with my fingers in you?”

You nodded, desperate, thighs trembling.

“Then come, baby,” he said against your ear. “Let me feel it.”

You broke.

Your moan caught in your throat as your hips bucked forward, grinding down onto his hand. The orgasm rolled through you hard, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your breath ragged as you shook against him.

He didn’t stop until you physically twitched away from the overstimulation, gasping for air. He eased his fingers out slowly, eyes on your face the whole time, like he was cataloging every little tremor.

And then—without breaking eye contact—he brought his fingers to his mouth.

Sucked them clean.

You stared, stunned, pulse still pounding in your ears.

“You gonna behave now?” he asked, cocky and breathless.

“You’re an asshole,” you said, cheeks burning.

“Yeah,” he agreed, grinning as he reached to fix your underwear, then smoothed your dress down with slow, practiced hands. “But I’m your asshole.”

You glared, but your legs were still weak, your mouth still swollen from his kisses. He fixed your hair gently, ran his thumb under your eyes to smudge away anything left behind. It was intimate in a way that undid you more than the orgasm.

He kissed your temple, hand resting low on your waist. “You ready?”

You swallowed, nodded.

He opened the bathroom door with casual ease, and you stepped out together.

The party hadn’t changed—music still thumping softly, lights still low, voices still buzzing.

But your cheeks were flushed. Your lips slightly parted. Your hair just a little mussed.

And Ryouta was standing near the bar, talking to someone from his team.

He glanced up.

Saw you.

Saw Atsumu’s hand on your hip, the way he was guiding you out like he’d already won.

Ryouta blinked. Said nothing.

Atsumu didn’t even look his way. Just leaned down and murmured in your ear, “Let’s go home.”

You followed him without a word, legs still trembling with every step.

[radioactivatedspider]

The Last One

pairings; Dean Winchester x reader

Genre; fluff, romance

Warnings; none

Summary: Yn confronts Dean about his past lovers, fearing she’s just another fling.

The roar of the Impala echoed through the deserted stretch of highway, Kansas wind pushing against the open windows. Dean’s hand gripped the wheel, tapping along to AC/DC, while Y/N sat silent in the passenger seat, her eyes fixed on the horizon—not the kind of quiet that came from comfort, but the kind that built walls.

She’d been distant for days. After a hunt gone sideways in a small-town bar, where two blonde waitresses had eyed Dean like he was dessert, something shifted. Again.

Dean glanced over, frowning. “You’re awful quiet over there. Thinking about that wendigo or something else?”

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. She hated this feeling—like she was measuring herself against ghosts. “Do you even remember their names?” she finally asked.

Dean blinked. “Whose names?”

“The girls. All the girls. The ones before me.” Her voice was steady, but her hands were clenched.

Dean’s fingers tensed on the wheel. “Y/N…”

“It’s not just the looks. It’s not just the flirting. It’s that you’ve been with so many, and I keep wondering if I’m just another stop. A good memory, before you move on again.”

He pulled the car over without a word, parking under a canopy of trees. The music still hummed low.

“Look, I won’t lie to you. Yeah, I’ve been with a lot of women. Part of it was just the job. One night stands, bars, motel rooms... it was easier than thinking about anything real. Hell, I didn’t even believe I deserved anything real.”

Y/N finally looked at him, eyes glassy. “Then what am I?”

Dean swallowed hard, his voice rough. “You’re the first one I didn’t want to leave in the morning. You’re the only one who makes me feel like there’s something more than just hunting and dying young. You’re not ‘the last’ because I got tired. You’re the last because… I’m done looking.”

Silence sat between them like a heartbeat.

“I don’t need you to be perfect,” she said softly. “I just need to know you see me. That when they look at you, you’re not wishing I was someone else.”

Dean reached out, cupping her face with calloused hands. “I see you, Y/N. And I want you. Not the girls in bars. Not what I used to be. Just you.”

She leaned into his touch, tears finally spilling as the dam broke. The pain of uncertainty began to ease, replaced by something fragile—but real.

Dean pressed a kiss to her forehead, then the corner of her mouth. “I swear to you, Y/N. You’re the last. And if I ever mess that up, you have my permission to shoot me.”

She smiled through the tears. “You’re lucky I already used the last silver bullet.”

Dean grinned, the tension easing, and started the Impala again.

[elysiasasuya]

Secured promise

Pairing : Caleb x reader

Summary : When a nightmare strikes like thunder, it shakes your whole consciousness that dream seems to be infused in reality. The only one that can grasp you back to the real world is the one that makes you feel alive– Caleb. Suddenly, the distance no longer feels suffocating and agonizing; his arms are there to prove it all false you wish it is. The truthful and trust-worthy promise that Caleb said is the reality that you can accept.

Genre : angst to fluff

Content tags : traumatic hidden memory (dream), child experimentation, abusive experimentation (knives, syringe, chip) . domestic Caleb, soft comfort, sweet promise, pet names (pipsqueak, pips, baby, honey), kisses, hugging, cuddling.

Word count : 2,006

Author's note : Have you ever wondered what it's like if you, as the MC would remember the experiments you went through? This shows that idea! Caleb will comfort you don't worry. Domestic Caleb ahead! Lastly, the point of view in this story is the first POV. Enjoy! :>

Masterlist

The thumping of my heart fuels the energy of the adrenaline inside of me, it rushes from nerve to nerve that it occupies all my senses. My throat feels too tight, the air inside me stolen by my anxiety that it's starting to choke me. I open my mouth to speak, only for nothing to be uttered as I hopelessly wait for help that I fear I won't receive. Perhaps I need to struggle harder in freeing myself from the restraints of the straps. My finger is just about to lift itself when my eyes catch sight of..a doctor?

Someone in a scrub suit follows, speaking my name just before she says: “ Professor Lucius, everything is ready.” The word ready stirred the confusion that I felt from the very beginning. But, it's only a few seconds before my heart jumps so hard that it knocks off that feeling, now replaced with fear. The ugly feeling did not gnaw at me but rather slowly swallowed me as I saw them surround me with a syringe, knife and a small piece of..chip? “ ngh! ” a whimper barely managed to escape but it did, I widened my eyes full of horror, expressing all I needed.

They didn't stop for me; rather they continued, the knife just above my skin that my widened eyes turned into a closed one, a great frown etched on my face. I can feel the tip of it slide for a bit and I have to bite my lower lip to the point of bleeding. I hate knives, I hate this, I don't want to di- there's a cut. Not on my skin but with the train of my thoughts as I flinch at the slam of the door. My eyes open in fear, only to widen in recognition. Fear. Even more fear. “ Caleb? ”

That was the last thing I was able to utter when next thing I know, I'm no longer on the table, escorted out with a peculiar politeness. I should be greatly relieved and I should probably even run immediately. Everything stops however, the door, my steps, my whole body. What is Caleb doing in the room? Why is he laying down where I'm restrained? “ Caleb, what are you doing?! ” My yell does not reach him when two people claw at my arms to pull me back and my anxiety skyrockets.

“ Please no! What are you going to do to him?! ” my eyes don't leave his face, his features are no longer soft and serene as I am used to but rather worried and broken. Why? That's when I realize the exact answer despite the haziness and confusion of what actually is happening. My mind slurs but I fight off whatever holds me back. My heartbeat increases so much that it hurts my chest, fills my ears and tingles my whole body especially when I see him cry when I see the knife slides with ease on his skin.

I remember what he said then: " I won't lose against them, I have someone I must protect! " It used to be funny to me because he seemed like a pretty prince charming that's too tiny and fragile. I didn't want to doubt but I felt no need to take it seriously. Now, it's more than serious. He was actually serious. So serious that he bled for me, no matter the pain he clenched his hand and stared away from me. Please no. “ Caleb!! Stop, no! Let go! Caleb!! ” My voice echoes through the hall, I don't stop at all, I keep on doing it even when my eyes flutter so many times. Anger, sorrow, fear, anxiety, all of it shoots to my body but then I see him, his mouth uttering his nickname for me.

“ Pipsqueak, pipsqueak! ” His voice is oddly tender and realistic this time. It's even devoid of the pained scream that rang through the room but my mind doesn't relent and instilled the hideous and agonizing image of my dream in me. Touch. A warm palm is placed on my cheek, thumb working on wiping off the tears that I didn't even notice were falling. I am frustrated, the bubbling feeling of something clearer than before rising before I finally open my eyes, the gasp I forced coming out. “ Hey, hey, you're alright, baby. ” That's his voice.

I could only whimper weakly, words at loss as if grief really caught up to me. I don't want that, I never will– Before my thoughts can even deteriorate by recalling the gut-wrenching memory, Caleb rubs my back slowly, forming a good distraction for long. “ It's okay, baby. You're fine with me, I'm here. ” despite the speed of my heart fighting back, at least my breath stabilized. My eyes that used to be in tremor now are concerned and soft. “ Caleb. ” my voice cracks and I had to question if it's not just a dream, that my scream reverberated so certainly at my–

“ Shh. ” Caleb hushes me softly. The hues of my eyes glistened as I traced my eyes on the worried but caring look in his face. He remains calm, his palm now shifting itself to rest on my waist. His hold on me is firm and I get reminded of the exasperating distance between us before. That's enough to have me tighten my arms around his waist. I know it makes me seem like a kid in a frightened situation but I won't let myself think otherwise. “ I'm glad you're safe. Please don't go, stay with me.”

The vulnerability of my voice is visible and as much as Caleb knows I hide away at moments like this, I cannot find a cave where I can store all these emotions because it's spilling out. Even so, when has Caleb ever denied me to hug him for solace? The answer is never, I know it so well and his touch— fingers under my chin confirms it as he tilts it. “ It's okay if you cannot tell me about it. What's important is that you're feeling much better. ” His purple eyes swirls like the galaxy I like, perfectly capturing the look I have on my face. I sigh at the sight. He sees me, he hears me. That's what matters now. I'm not far from him. I snuggle closer as I think that, nuzzling my face on his arm.

“ Caleb..I had a bad nightmare. ” I start, my eyes not leaving him even for a moment. There's no way he'd be out of reach again right? A question once again answered when he nodded, urging me to continue. I can see his reddish ears perk up to listen. “ It was so frustrating. I was strapped, all ready to be..experimented on? ” more of another question than statement, but that for sure made him focus even more eagerly, his eyes sharpening. “ Tell me more, pips. What happened? ”

The way his breath turned slower caught my attention and I almost hesitated because of how eager he seems to know. It's just a dream, is it not? For the first time, I break our eye contact and it drifts off. He must have noticed this so he patted my head and kissed it. It's like a sign that he will know either way, he knows me, by heart. He knows that I am weak when I'm on his lap, curled up in his embrace. “ The first time we did this, you fell asleep on me. ” he chuckled, directing attention to somewhere else. Again, he adjusted for me like he always does. He knows that I need time to move forward with what I will say.

“ I did, but I don't wanna sleep again because.. ” my doubt lingers but then he peppers kisses all over my face. Giggles come out involuntarily at this, my ticklish spots barely hidden away when he kisses my neck. He stays there. “ Whether you are asleep or not, I'll be next to you. I'm with you until the end of the earth, there's no end with us. ” Gosh, it definitely healed a huge part of my pained heart. I'd even bet that it melted so warmly that I sighed and let all tension release itself. “ I've always been here, even when you move forward, I stay behind and wait. I'm waiting now, pips. ”

“ Thank you, Caleb. ” relief made my body flushed on his, our warmth merging that it's taking all the attention away from what surely isn't true. I hope it is. Our eyes meet again, silence filling the dimmed room, obscuring the whole world outside from us. I don't even know how but our lips meet, words that need to be exchanged all swallowed from the tongue that protrudes to take it. Everything felt slow and soft now. My eyes open slowly, pulling away as I breathe shakily. “ Is that a seal of promise? ” I say, finally, I am no longer bound to my dream and I can jest.

“ If it was then I'd be kissing you every single day. My sweet words are my promises to you, baby. ” I'd be embarrassed if I saw my irises diluted like a puppy in love but he is exactly the same. I laugh at that, his palm smoothens my skirt, gentleman as ever. “ Well, I hope you don't steal my words now. Can I..? ” his eyes no longer narrow, rather he keeps it reassuring and he nods again. He's so patient that I think I need to make it worth it. “ In my nightmare, I was strapped, ready to be experimented on. But then.. ” I gulp, the images flickering like a deadly flashback.

“ hmm, yes, what happened, love? ” His hum catches my staggering attention. This time his hands cup my cheeks, not tight, not loose, it's just right. I gather the courage, speaking again. “ You took my spot. Your skin gets sliced and you scream. I wanted to..I really wanted to help you. ” I almost struggled to breathe but Caleb knew before this even happened. I see him breathe in and out intentionally, I follow as much as I can. “ I screamed and shoved everyone away. I tried getting to you. ” tears arrived and flowed, each and every one of it caught by his thumb. “ I felt so frustrated. I hate it, I don't want you sacrificing yourself. Please. I don't want you in pain. ”

Finally, I'm able to freely express my frustration, sorrow, fear and worry. I felt like a water that lets the waves of emotions flow without a care. “ Please, Caleb. Promise me you'll be safe. If you do, I will do the same. ” I should have simply asked it but I know the same yearning and protective feeling I have is inside him too. Shameless of me. “ We have always been safe, baby. In my arms you are, not a thing in the world can hurt you. While you're here, I'm sure your hunter skills can protect me too.” With this, my body is flushed with his now and I sob quietly in his arms, agreeing through nods. “ If you're alright, I am too. ”

Time flew, but I didn't mind any of it. All I can focus now is that I am secure in Caleb's arms, I made sure that it's the same for him. I never left his embrace, instead I even tried to close whatever gap we had. This– is enough. Before I even know it, my tears are dried. “ You feeling better, honey? ” he presses his forehead on mine, eyes closed as he smiles. If I see him this close, I think I can rest all my thoughts. “ I feel good. You know your way to my heart huh? ” I whispered, tilting my head to the side to peck his lips. “ I always know the way to you. Isn't that the same to you? ” a pause.

“ We'll never get lost. Our paths always cross y'know. That way, distance doesn't exist. We're just safe and close to one another. I will never give up on that, I have you to protect. ” Once again, his statement flies back to my mind. It should have felt like a despicable bug as terrifying as the dream. It should have reminded me of his sacrifice, the one that's supposed to save me yet it hurt me even more. But him saying it like this? His breath hitting my skin? His body almost joined with mine? It's like a butterfly. Ticklish inside my stomach. A dream come true. Now my eyes can close and I can sleep in peace again.

© 2025 @elysiasasuya . Please refrain from copying, stealing, or profiting off my works.

[ttdamian]

Break your bones !

⸺ summary ; How would tim express his undying love to you?

⸺ Authors note ; Tim drake x gn ! reader, obsessive behavior/yandere, kidnapping, implied stalking, ooc ?. english isnt my first language. Feel free to send requests while i figure out how tumblr works. wc : 814 drabble. Not beta read.

It started with glances. Just glances.

Tim had always been good at watching, cataloging, studying people like puzzles. But you—you—were not a puzzle to be solved. You were something else entirely. A feeling. A fixation. Something that unfurled beneath his ribs like the first breath of spring—and like spring, you made everything else irrelevant.

You smiled at him once. Just once. That was all it took.

He began sitting closer at meetings, brushing against you in ways that couldn’t be called accidents anymore. He listened to your every word with a reverence usually reserved for sacred texts, his eyes never leaving your lips.

And you were kind. Too kind.

You asked if he was okay when he showed up with blood on his knuckles and shadows under his eyes. You handed him a steaming cup of tea without asking questions. You were gentle, and Tim—Tim had forgotten what gentle felt like. The world didn’t give softness to people like him. Not unless it wanted something in return.

But you didn’t ask for anything.

So he gave you everything.

Everything.

You started noticing the changes. Your favorite snacks in the fridge, even though you never told anyone. Your broken lamp replaced overnight. Your front door lock changed after you mentioned it was sticking.

And then came the notes. Simple quotes, or fun facts. Some sweet, some unsettling.

You found them tucked between your books, potraits renderings of your face in moments you don’t remember anyone witnessing. You sleeping, laughing, biting your lip while reading.

You asked Tim about them once, voice unsure. His answer came too quickly.

“They’re not mine.”

But he was lying. And you knew he was lying.

There’s a storm one night, a bruised sky weeping over Gotham, and you stay late at the Tower, waiting it out. You find him in the archive room, hunched over something. You shouldn't have looked. But you did.

Photos. Of you. Hundreds of them.

Your breath caught in your throat like a bird with broken wings.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said softly, not turning around. “Not yet.”

You backed away. “Tim—what is all this?”

His voice was steady, calm, as though he were talking about a grocery list. “I need to protect you. No one else will do it right. No one else knows you like I do.”

“Tim, this isn’t protection—”

“It’s love.”

You tried to run. You should have run.

But he was faster.

You woke in a room that smelled like lavender and old paper. Your wrists didn’t hurt from the cuffs—he made sure of that. Velvet-lined, like he was afraid of bruising you.

He sat beside the bed, eyes red-rimmed, hands trembling.

“I didn’t want to do it like this. But you weren’t listening.” His voice cracked in that boyish, broken way that made something ancient stir in your chest. Pity? Regret?

“Tim, please—”

“I’ll break your bones with all the love I carry,” he whispered, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Not because I want to hurt you. Never that. But to keep you still. Keep you safe. You don’t understand what could happen to you out there.”

“Let me go.”

“I will. One day. When you understand.”

Days blurred. Or were they weeks? Time twisted in the silence. Tim brought you food, books, clothes. He talked about the future like it was a promise carved into stone.

“One day we’ll get married,” he said once, while lacing your shoes like a kid dressing a doll. “Somewhere quiet. White dress. You’ll cry because you’ll be happy. You will be happy.”

He smiled then. And the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

You told yourself you’d never love him back. You wouldn’t give him that victory.

But sometimes, at night, when the air was still and his footsteps echoed outside your door, you found yourself wondering what might have happened if you’d kept your distance. If you’d never smiled at him that first time. If you’d never been kind.

If.

Such a soft word. Like a blade behind silk.

He held you like you were glass. Like something precious. Something breakable.

And maybe you were.

He murmured things into your hair at night, secrets carved from old wounds and new madness. “They never wanted me to be happy. But I found you. You were mine before I even knew your name.”

The scariest thing? He believed it.

Obsessive love is still love, twisted through the ribs like barbed wire, bleeding out beneath a kiss. He loved you so fiercely, he’d rather bury you in velvet than watch the world stain your light.

And every time you screamed, he only held you tighter.

“Shh,” he breathed. “I’ll never let you go.”

You knew he meant it.

Because he carried his love like a weapon.

And he’d break the world for you, bone by bone.

@ TTDAMIAN. pretty please, translate and rewrite any of my works, or repost my works in any other platform without asking. (ts a joke get out)

[souvlakicokaine]

unmedicated “adhd” tips

putting under the cut bc long. anyway fyi this won’t replace self discipline like you need to develop that skill it’s unavoidable. but all this stuff helps me personally. souvi lifehacks ig

I’m splitting up by category lol

nootropics

lots of ppl will tell u to take ashwagandha & L-tyrosine well I wouldn’t know anything abt that. personally I find a combo of L-theanine & b12 to have a noticeable effect but u gotta megadose I mean MEGA dose. obviously stop if ur having adverse effects but theyre both pretty harmless. in more moderate doses I take magnesium & lion’s mane and I think that helps too. I been meaning to try ginseng so I’ll update on that

if ur gonna caffeinemaxx stay away from energy drinks imo they don’t help as much + they’ll make ur heart pop like a grape. drink coffee + tea—at least then u get the added antioxidants. i like longjing green & pu erh tea and i believe they enhance my cognition ever so slightly as well. caffeine has a great synergistic effect w the L-theanine tbh

productivity

everybody and their mother will tell you to write things down/make a to do list, but there’s to do lists and To Do Lists.

I have crazy screen time just like every other degen on here so I chose to put reminders and stuff in my phone since I stare at it so much.

the four apps that have my back the most are the following l: clock app, countdown, Google keep, & health app

Explanation:

so you know as well as I do if you make some kinda to do list u’ll just avoid looking at it all day. so I always plan my day out (not even in detail just 3-4 basic tasks I’d like to accomplish) in my clock app and do it like this

^^ example. I can snooze tasks but not turn them off. I also set times for the entire portion of the day I plan to be awake (16-17 hours what have you) and sometimes 3-4 hr increments to combat time blindness & generally have an idea of how much time im wasting. it helps more than you’d think.

sometimes if I have an exam in 2 ish days I’ll even do a timer like 48 hours until exam. just helps me compartmentalize chunks of time in my head.

but for long time periods I have this baby

as u can see I keep all sorts of reminders: chores (set to repeat weekly or however often I gotta do that), subscriptions, bills, exams. game changer

helps me remember to cancel free trials & shit.

I even keep a timer until my next birthday to instill the dread of wasting another year within myself lol. you don’t have to do this.

NEXT BABY: Google keep

^^ just an example of lists I keep. financial, academic, personal, you name it. just stuff I need to remember. some have alarms set but I don’t exactly rely on it for tasks. I color code them for exactly organization. I even keep website links + a list of my hobbies/shit to do instead of doomscrolling for my free time on here lol.

habit tracking

there’s multiple apps for this but they are retard. I’ve never been pleased with one. What I use is this

hear me out: I put each habit as a “medication” on this list. I log whenever I do it. I presents me a chart of my adherence and daily reminder so I know what to work on. no other visual works so well for me as this. oh lol I also log my mood so I can compare lapses in my adherence with mood swings and my cycle & stuff (I don’t keep my cycle on here tho. I don’t trust apple like that)

trivia/extra

I put reminders in my tumblr drafts if all else fails cuz ik ill be wasting my time on here

I keep a spreadsheet of all my spending habits including the date/purpose of a purchase and whether I paid in credit or debit

when im overwhelmed by all of the above I just visit each app and make a paper pencil list of what I want to accomplish today. I do think it’s important to do this once in a while to detox from all the screens

EVERY 3 MONTHS I take a masternote in Notes Apps of what I wanna do for the NEXT 3-4 months. mostly personal/silly shit. Pictured below

I consult this whenever I feel purposeless. I have a reminder on Countdown to remake it every 3 months.

I use my calendar app ofc. for appointments and classes n shit. it gives me an overview of my day.

MyHomeworkApp for school. used to be MyStudyLife but my account got mysteriously deleted 😑😑😑

controversial but I record all my lectures with an AI transcript app that generates me a summary. Rlly helps me be less stressed abt zoning out. I have a reminder on countdown to cancel my $5/month subscription to this

I keep a locked note w all my usernames/passwords

I have a countdown reminder to deepclean & REARRANGE my room every 4 months. this does wonders for ur brain chemistry trust me

this is veering more into cliche advice u find everywhere but: learn to cook. and exercise

ALSO CONTROVERSIAL but I find that intermittent fasting does help my mental clarity and makes me less sluggish. DONT do this if u struggle w ed thoughts though and stop immediately if u feel it edging into ed territory. I eat a lot of very rich meals when i do this to make sure im getting my calorie

I should have made a diet category rip but obv get all ur vitamins & reduce simple carbs. fats rlly help me personally like good fats. avocado & shit OH and protein + fiber. prioritize these three things

probiotics

I try 2 pavlov myself a lot. it doesn’t always work. Example I put my hair up in a specific style before studying to get my brain into “study mode” which sounds stupid but I feel like helps. I then also do this before the exam to help recall the info. results may vary w this it’s kind of the dumbest bullet point here

wash w hot water

rereading all this now & it looks like shit. will probably rewrite/add stuff later and rb it 2 notify but. til then. hope this is at least one iota helpful

[hannahbarberra162]

A Negative Outcome, Part 5

MDNI | on Ao3

The other parts

TW: dissociation - but later comfort. Reader (mostly) gets the crash out she deserves.

You closed the door to your old room as your wet hair dripped down your neck. The room looked nearly the same as before except some of the furniture had been replaced with used cast offs from other crew members. You felt like there was a menacing aura in the room that made you shiver - or maybe that was just your imagination. 

You slowly went over to the new dresser in the corner of the room to put on some clean clothes, not caring what you grabbed out of the drawers. None of the clothes were really yours anyway, they were either borrowed from smaller crew members or given to you by some of the nurses. All of the clothes you’d come in were gone by now, worn too many times to be usable any longer. There was a comb on top and you took it to brush out your still wet hair.

Looking around the room, it was almost like you were walking in a dream. You knew it was your room, it was all the assorted belongings you’d see before but as you grasped the shirt in your hands, your mind started to blank out. It was hard to place the feeling - everything was real but none of it could touch you or maybe you couldn’t touch it in return? A fog settled within you making you only distantly aware of your room or your body or…anything, really. 

You were gone, sunk further into yourself as your body moved on its own, doing what it wanted. Sitting down on a small rug that someone had brought into the room, you laid on your back and looked at the ceiling of the room. Maybe there’d be blood there too. You weren’t really looking as you stared at the ceiling, no longer tired, and just were there.

It almost felt like when you’d been depressed in the past but this was a little better. Instead of depletion, sadness or futility you were floating in your own mind as your body moved around. You laid on the ground and watched yourself stare off into space. After what felt like a few moments later there was a knock at the door. You didn’t mind but you didn’t answer either, you couldn’t disturb the nothing. It was like you were trapped in the nothing and couldn’t diverge from it.

“Hey, Sugar, you in there?” a voice said from behind the door. “It’s been a few hours and I couldn’t find you, I thought we were gonna have fun tonight for your day off.” The voice was Thatch, you knew that, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to answer. It wasn’t pleasant floating away from yourself but you also didn’t have to deal with anything, including Thatch. “I’m coming in, alright Sweets?” You rolled your head to the side but kept looking up as you heard the key turned in the lock.

“Hey, how ya doi - oh Sugar ,” Thatch said sympathetically as he crouched down near you. He tried to make eye contact with you but you didn’t bother to move or change position. “I’m gonna borrow this, OK? We’ll brush your hair out later,” Thatch said as he gently pried the comb from your hand. “Is that ok?” he asked, turning your head to face him. The you on the surface answered for you while the rest of you remained below the fog.

“OK, sounds good,” you replied. It was weird listening to yourself respond so serenly. Whoever was above the fog was good at sounding like they were ok, you thought.

“Are you…you alright? Why didn’t you come back to my room? I was waiting for you,” Thatch said, now sitting on the floor next to you. He looked up at the ceiling to determine if you were looking at anything, but quickly looked back down at your face.

“I forgot,” you said, not remembering what happened before you were in your room. Maybe you missed something? Or did he ask you something else? The person above the fog couldn’t remember anything, neither could you.

“Marco told me what those guys said. I’m sorry you heard that,” Thatch said, watching your face. 

“Mmh,” you hummed, already forgetting what Thatch said. This was getting to be a lot, you couldn’t keep anything he said in your head while the fog was taking up so much space. Thatch was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. 

“Can I put you in my lap?”

“Sure.” You should let the other you take control more often, you thought, she knew exactly what to say and do and you didn’t have to do anything. You made no efforts to move and Thatch had no difficulty in positioning your limp body to sit in his lap. It was a different vantage point than the floor but you could still look up at the ceiling.

“Holy fu- you’re freezing. C’mere,” he said, reaching over to your bed and pulling the blanket off. Thatch wrapped it around the two of you but mostly your body. 

“Does that feel better?” he asked. You didn’t reply, it didn’t really feel any different than before. Thatch wrapped his arms around you over the blanket, pulling you against his chest. 

“I have a question for ya. Can you name 5 things that you can see?”

“Hm?” you asked with a tilt of your head, like a dog. What was he asking you to do?

“Any five things that you can see, name ‘em,” he said, rubbing his hands up and down your arms.

“Um…” you had to take a moment to process the request but eventually came back to it. “Bed, dresser, plant.”

“Two more Sugar. You see a bed, dresser, that plant, what else?”

“Um…sunglasses and a book.” Thatch gave you a squeeze and kissed the top of your head.

“Great job. Can you tell me four things you can touch?” You rolled your head back, this was a lot. You didn’t want to name anything or tell anything, just wanted to stay quiet and let the fog take over. 

“Please? Do it for me,” Thatch urged, squeezing the tops of your arms.

“Blanket, you, floor, and… clothes,” you said, feeling the waistband of your pants digging into your stomach. Now that you thought about it, the shirt you were wearing was still wet around the collar from your hair. Thatch’s warm chest was behind you while your bare feet were on the cold wood floor.

“Wonderful, almost there. How about three things you can hear?” 

“Mmh, the sea, the night birds, and…” you trailed off as your mind started wandering again, but Thatch rubbed his goatee in your neck to whipster in your ears.

“What other sound can you hear?” You listened in and heard a bunch of sad voices, singing together.

“Crew.” Thatch kissed your shoulder, the warm press of his lips felt pleasant against your skin.

“Can you smell two different things?”

You were quiet for a few moments as you felt a wave of lethargy hit you. “Mint from you and laundry from me,” you said quietly. It was like you were slowly being brought back to yourself, the strings between the detached reality and real life being pulled back together to make one whole once more.

“I’d ask you if you can taste anything, but I -”

“Blood,” you replied as your tongue rooted around your mouth. You’d bitten a hole in your cheek and the injury left a bright coppery taste on your tongue. It was something you’d done a lot as a child when you were nervous but you’d kicked the habit years before, or so you thought. 

“Ah, fuck. Don’t tell Marco,” he said with a teasing lilt to his voice. You froze as you heard the name, your breathing picking up rapidly.

“Shh, no, no. I was just joking. You’re alright, Sugar,” Thatch said as he snuggled deeper into your shoulder. He had been right - you were freezing and your feet were still like blocks of ice. You pulled them into sit cross legged, the soles of your feet touching his bare legs where his pants didn’t cover.

“Hey! Warn me next time,” he said with a pout though he made no effort to move away from you. He didn’t make you do or say anything else but the fog was lifting and you were back in your own body. You slumped against him, suddenly exhausted even though all you had been doing was laying down. He rocked you a little with the ship as it sailed through the water, the sounds of a dirge-like song filling your ears.

“Why’re they singing?” you asked, the unfamiliar mournful song giving you the chills.

“Mm, it’s a little complicated. There’s a lot of…mixed emotions on the crew right now. Even though Teach deserved the ending he got, it’s hard to watch the Captain uh, finish something. He was family for a long time,” Thatch said, avoiding words about death. You didn’t reply but listened to the sad tune winding through the night. Thatch lapsed into silence as you gradually warmed in his lap. 

“Glad you’re back, sweets,” Thatch said quietly. “I’d ask you not to do that again but I don’t think it’s something you can promise.” You leaned your head back against him, seeking more comfort than merely his body heat. Thatch made no moves to do anything as you laid in his arms listening to the chorus above you. 

“Do you wanna leave this room? I had a little surprise planned for you,” Thatch asked, kissing your temple. Inwardly you groaned, you really weren’t in the mood to do anything right now, but he’d put effort into it so you’d white knuckle your way through it. Marco had probably asked him to cheer you up, you thought, and you didn’t want anything bad to get back to the Commander.

“Yeah, we can go,” you said softly, preparing to stand up. You squealed as he stood up with you still in his arms still wrapped in the blanket, afraid that he was going to drop you.

“P-put me down!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around his neck for support.

“Nah, I like carrying you around. Er, that is if you don’t mind too much?” Thatch asked, giving you a raised brow. You shook your head as Thatch left your old room and carried you down the long hallways back to his own. Crew members were giving you strange looks but you pretended to busy yourself in looking down at the comforter wrapped around you. Since the conversation earlier that night, you knew what they thought of you, the words still perfectly clear in your mind.

Bringing you back to his room, you saw that a three course meal had been brought in, complete with wine and dessert. You closed your eyes and dropped your head, sucking in a deep breath. Picking yourself back up you gave him as big of a smile as you could. You even squinted to try and smile with your eyes in case he was watching closely.

“That looks incredible, I can’t wait,” you tried to say brightly. The food really did look good but the thought of eating had your stomach already hurting. Thatch returned your smile with a soft look as his thumb stroked your cheek.

“I’m no doctor but I’m guessing you’re not hungry,” he said as he walked to place you on the bed. “I’ve seen that look in your eyes before - I don’t want you to choke down the food to appease me. Let’s just relax for now, yeah?” Thatch set you on the bed in your blanket and crossed over to the bookshelf you were looking at hours before. “I think you said you like this one, right?” he asked, plucking the volume of poetry off the shelf.

“Yeah, but, you don’t have to do all this,” you said, looking from him to the table. You weren’t a chef but you guessed that all of the food prep took time and effort, not to mention taking food from the ship’s stores. There was grilled meat and some kind of noodle as well as fresh fruit - those things were precious on a seafaring ship. “You shouldn’t have wasted the ingredients on me,” you said with a raise of your shoulder, aiming for nonchalance. Thatch began protesting but you cut him off with a wave of your hand. “I appreciate it, I really do. Not even just this, everything you’ve done for me. Like arguing with Marco and making him apologize or whatever. But you don’t have to put yourself out. It’s ok, I know what everyone thinks about me.” Thatch gave you a pitying look as he turned to face you.

“What you heard isn’t what everyone thinks about you.”

“I mean are they wrong?” you asked, looking up at him from within your blanket nest on the bed.

“Yes. They are,” he said seriously, coming to sit next to you on the bed, the book still in his hands. “Most of us are grateful to you, thankful that you’re here. Even though you don’t want to be with us, you’ve helped more than you know,” he said, scooting towards the wall to use it as a backrest. “Marco’s uptight and a dick sometimes but he’s thankful too. We all are,” he said, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. You scooted back, leaving your makeshift nest now that you were warm.

“They’ve been dealt with-”

“Yeah, Marco said he had a conversation with them,” you replied bitterly, remembering the many times you’d been on the receiving end of a “conversation” with Marco. It was less a back and forth and more you waiting for Marco to stop lecturing you like an errant child.

“Mmm, that’s one way to put it. They’re in the infirmary right now, but they’ll be better soon enough,” Thatch said with a small smile. Maybe it was because you’d been around an Emperor’s crew for a while, but you found you were happy they’d received some corporal punishment. They weren’t going to get killed over something so minor as upsetting you but maybe they’d be more careful next time when airing their thoughts. 

“Is Marco gonna heal them?” you asked, curling up on his lap. It felt like all you’d done lately was relax on Thatch but you were content to pass your time that way if he let you.

“Nope. Gonna suffer for a little longer.” You gave a small satisfied grin, which Thatch returned.

“First smile outta you in a while, Sweets,” he said, pinching your cheek. You snapped at his hand playfully with your teeth, not intending to bite. Even though you were still drained, it almost felt normal to be spending your time with Thatch like this. There wasn’t any time spent in the phlebotomy room hanging over your head, you could actually relax for once - at least for a while before reality set in again.

You changed positions so that your back was against his torso, the two of you now facing the same direction. “I can’t believe Marco beat them up, seems a little out of character for him,” you mused, leaning your head back against Thatch’s chest.

“He didn’t. I did,” he said, looking down at you. You stiffened a little in surprise, rearing back to take in his face.

“Wh- why? Like, it’s not that serious -” you shifted in his lap to look up at his face. You couldn’t believe someone like him had gone out of his way for someone like you. Sure, most of the crew probably didn’t think of you as Marco’s pet but Thatch didn’t need to set the record straight himself. 

“It is to me. And I’ll do it again if I hear anything else. And it’s not just that I’m thankful for what you do, I -” Thatch hesitated. “Do you remember asking me if we had met somewhere else, would we still be friends?” Your heart hammered in your chest as you shifted to face him and nodded. “Well, like I said, I think we’d be friends and maybe more. I haven’t said anyth- it’s not that -I just - sigh this isn’t the right time. You’re struggling and depressed and I-”

You didn’t let the Commander continue speaking but instead pulled him down to kiss him gently on the lips. His eyes opened wide in surprise but allowed you to drag him closer as you wound your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his again. He made a sound low in his throat as he closed his eyes, kissing you tenderly as one of his large hands wound around you to cradle your head. 

Pulling away, he put his forehead against your own and took in a few deep breaths. You traced his facial scar with the tips of your fingers with half lidded eyes and waited for him to speak.

“You mean more to me than just the bl- the services you provide. Do you remember when you asked if we could ever be anything else? If we’d met differently?” You hummed and nodded, a frown spreading through your features. If Thatch rejected you right now, there’d really be nothing left for you on the ship and you were throwing yourself overboard. Not literally. Probably.

“I’ve been thinking about that ever since you said it. I know this isn’t the life you’d chosen for yourself but I’m glad - well, I’m not glad you’re here, but I am glad that it’s you and that I get to-” you reached up and ran your hand through his hair now that it wasn’t slicked back in its signature style.

“I am too,” you said quietly, tracing his lips with a fingertip. He kissed you again and laid you down on the bed, covering your body with his own. You widened your legs for him to settle between them. Thatch leaned over you on his forearms to prevent squishing you with his massive body.

“Are you sure you’re up to anything? We can stop-” he asked, his worry lines reappearing on his face. As appreciative that you were that he was being careful with you, you really wanted to make this happen. You placed your hands on either side of his jaw and gave him a serious look.

“You said that I could have anything I wanted.”

“I didn’t say that, I said-”

“Well, I want you,” you said as the cheesy line made your own face flush from embarrassment. Thankfully Thatch laughed at your corniness and kissed your jaw.

“How can I deny such a sweet request?” he asked, rolling you to your side to press his body into yours. “It’s our day off, we should enjoy it.”

taglist: @mfreedomstuff @starsandshht

[guesswhoisofftheirmedsagain]

A Dead Birds Chick

Instead of wanting to kill him, Jason goes to recruit Tim instead, because what could be more poetic than the first bird you lost, taking away his own replacement, and keeping him happier, healthy, and safer than you ever could?

(Jason would learn of, and weaponize Tim’s hero worship of him back when he was Robin.)

——- (little snippet)

Jason hesitantly placed a hand on the kids shoulder, his body stiff. “By doing this, by doing nothing but giving him a placeholder Robin, you’re not fixing the issue. What happens if you get hurt, or worse, who’s left to keep him in check? To really make things better in the long run, you need to get to the root of the issue, or else everyone looses.” Tim’s eyes stayed trained on the city below them, the wind bellowing in their ears. His legs swung slightly as they both sat at the edge of the building. “But I can’t just leave him! What would happen to Gotham? Batman needs a Robin, he needs- one.” The eyes of Tim’s domino mask gave away his feelings as he spoke. ‘Me’ was a word the kid couldn’t bring himself to say.

“He lost Robin, putting yourself through this type of treatment is only going to end up worse for both of you in the end.” Jason hoped to whatever god that was out there that whatever bullshit was coming out of his mouth sounded halfway decent, god why didn’t he prepare for this more? “How can you be sure of that?” Tim sounded hesitant, and a bit weary. He knew who Jason was, Jason had told him on their second meeting. It was a bit of a gamble, but the kid had kept quiet. Slowly building a relationship with the kid was key.

“I was Robin, remember? I’ve seen it first hand. I remember the freedom it gives you, and I am not asking you to give up that freedom.” Tim was, quite obviously, neglected by his parents both growing up and now, it was so easy to tell, even from an outsider’s perspective. Jason could imagine that taking Robin away from this kid would be taking away his lifeline. “But- how could I be Robin without Batman?” The kid sounded defeated, this was it. This was the moment Jason been building up to. God, he can’t fuck this up.

“Be my Robin.”

A beat of silence.

“What?” Tim’s voice was almost blank, confusing leaking through his failed attempt at masking it. “You heard me Tim, be my Robin. Whoever said that Robin had to be Batman’s partner?” Jasons smirk could be heard in his voice, by the kids change in body language, he got him. Hook, line, and sinker. Or well, floater? He was trying to save the kid, after all. “I could work with Robin?” Yes that’s it, distract him from the original goal of this conversation. The pure hope in Tim’s voice almost made Jason regret manipulating him a little bit during their meetings, but all would be made up for in the end.

“Yes, how would you feel about working with your predecessor?” Jason latched onto that, he knew the kid looked up to him, especially back when he was Robin. He would use it against the kid without him knowing. Tim lit up, his whole body turned to face Jason. “I- I would be honored-!” Tim’s mind ran so fast his words couldn’t keep up. Jason genuinely smiled, this was going perfectly. “Great. You’re coming with me.” Jason stood up, dropping the last of the Robin suits trackers onto the ground and crushing it beneath his boot. He had been subtly snatching them during their conversation, and was sure the big bad bat had been on his way sense Jason broke the first one.

“Wait, like now?” Tim was frozen to his spot on the roof, staring at Jason as he started walking away. “Yep, let’s go.” Jason didn’t look behind him, and satisfaction took over as he heard the sound of Tim scrambling behind him, and the soft taps of small steps rushing to catch up to him. Tim was his bird now, and he was going to do a much better job taking care of him than Bruce could ever dream of.

[everrinsly]

a/n; for those who ever doubted you, knock 'em dead, soldier. think i wrote this during finals week when i was in uni.

this one is very special to me because it reminds me of myself; i remember i wrote it to the song "sooner or later" by mat kearney ahh

college year vibes.

burn the whole league with suna. fluff. slight angst. sakusa and tsukishima mentioned.

more reads!

~~~~~

[Then]

He wasn't the star, not even a star. And maybe... he never will be. As sad as that sounded, it felt like the truth.

Suna had just finished a rough match. One of those games where nothing clicked, where his blocks were off, where his timing felt late by milliseconds that cost everything. His coach felt it, his teammates felt it, he felt it. And you. YOU felt it.

And it's not like his university's volleyball team was bad—no, they were real fucking good actually. Made it to Collegiate Nationals every year, which was why everything was riding on him harder. Because this loss was on him.

Now, Suna sat on the edge of the press stage, towel hanging over his shoulders, face blank, void of any and all emotions. Cameras on him and his teammates.

Until the reporter spoke.

“This question is for Suna—do you still plan to go pro? Division I?”

He nodded. “Yeah.” Simple. One word. Because that was all he could push out right now.

Another reporter leered forward, voice light but sharp. “Even with performances like tonight’s? I mean—no offense, Suna, but you’re kind of a slow-starter. Even since high school. Not exactly the kind of guy a pro team’s lining up for.”

There was an awkward pause. Even the coach shifted uncomfortably.

Then, the audacity of this man to continue—

"I mean—look. When you compare the current MVP of the Collegiate League, Sakusa, to you... it's a no-brainer who the V.League is going to choose, right? Especially for Division I."

No one spoke. He smirked and continued.

"And... even when you look at Tsukishima, who has already received an offer from the Division II Sendai Frogs—there's not a doubt in my mind that he would be a great fit Division I. Maybe replace you—"

Suna coughed. Something fierce lingered in the shadows of his green eyes, but it was gone after a blink.

Then, in precise Suna fashion, he just muttered, “Maybe they’ll change their minds.” Sharp. Firm. Steady.

But you knew Suna. You knew Suna well. And no matter how composed and nonchalant he appeared on TV, he was not fine.

When you found him later that night, he didn’t speak.

He was at the back of the athletic building, sitting on a step in the dark, one knee up, chin on his arm. Still in his uniform.

“You were good today, Rinnie,” you said softly, offering him a blueberry-flavored chuppet. One that you hurriedly grabbed from your minifridge before rushing out of the dorm building to find him.

He gave a low laugh, accepting the chuppet and immediately munching. “I was shit.”

“No. You were trying.” You sat next to him. “They don’t know how hard you work.”

He didn’t look at you, but his voice came quieter this time. Soft. Uncertain. Not Suna-like. “What if they’re right? What if I’m not fast enough?”

You hesitated, then leaned your shoulder against his and dropped your head, resting perfectly on his shoulder blades.

"You're analytical, Rin. You take time to visualize the court and the players... before striking them down one-by-one. I think that's special."

He hummed quietly. He didn't believe you. So you continued—

"But who cares, you know? They can wait. You’re a slow burn."

You lifted a finger up to boop his nose—

"You’ll still light the whole damn league up eventually.”

That got a tiny huff of laughter from him.

“You believe that?”

You nodded, cheeks hot. “Yeah. Because it's you. And I believe in you.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just leaned his head on yours and let the silence hold him.

And then his phone pinged with two tagged notifications on Instagram.

From Sakusa. A clipped video of the reporter grilling Suna. The caption—Suna's one of the very few who can analyze my movements and block my spikes. All in just a few minutes.

From Tsukishima. A black screen (very Tsukki-like). The caption—I actually put in a process for Division II personally. I've got other hobbies I want to pursue, and I'm not a volleyball freak. So keep my name out your mouths... and Suna's good.

You laugh at Tsukki's.

And Suna...

He looks lighter for the first time tonight.

[Now]

The crowd was deafening.

Cameras flashed. Confetti rained. Teammates tackled. And Suna stood at center court, jersey clinging to his skin, bright as a star. THE star.

Because the V.League Championship trophy was sitting right by his feet.

EJP Raijin — Champions.

The reporters swarmed him. Microphones angled toward his lips. Cameras aimed right at his face.

“Suna Rintarou—you just helped take EJP to a championship title. What does this moment mean to you?”

Suna’s eyes scanned the crowd. Calm. Confident. Older now. Sharper. Fiercer. The same to you, but more to the world.

Still your Rinnie.

“It means everything.” Simple because that was the truth.

“You’ve grown a lot,” another added. “What do you think changed? Back in college, there were questions about your speed, your drive—”

He smiled then. Slow. Dangerous. Lethal. Like he was waiting for this comment.

“Yeah,” he said into the mic. “I remember.”

The press paused.

“There was a reporter,” Suna continued, voice steady. “Said no pro team would want me because I was a slow-starter.”

Silence.

You stood up from the VIP seating area decked in EJP gold, just watching him—same way you always had. Unwavering. (With a tote bag filled with multi-flavored chuppets and some salmon onigiri, of course).

Suna turned his head toward you in the stands, gaze locking with yours for half a second.

“But I had someone who waited.”

The reporters blinked. “Waited?”

He tilted his head. “Believed in me. Even when I didn’t. That’s the difference.”

Flashbulbs exploded.

“So,” one stunned reporter asked, “do you have anything you’d say now to that college-era criticism?”

Suna raised a brow. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Another beat of silence.

“…Thanks?”

He smirked straight at the camera. The jumbotrons captured his face (fangirls squealed).

“For being wrong. Because his bald-ass proved me right.”

After all the interviews, when he finally got a moment for himself, he found you in the back hallway, out of the spotlight. You were already teary-eyed, hands stuffed in your EJP hoodie pockets.

You knew. He knew. Nothing had to be said.

But still, he leaned against the wall next to you and nudged your shoulder.

“You were right,” he murmured, a soft voice reserved just for you. “I lit it up, huh? Burned the League?"

You smiled. “Told you.”

And then—

He pulled you into a hug, arms tight around you, breath warm by your ear.

After a beat of drowning in each other, still embraced in a tight hug—

"Did you bring my chuppets?"

You giggled, reaching up to card a hand through his damp hair.

"Of course I did."

[pinkscaped]

“I Was Scared of Her...” VENUS’s Chloe Shares Emotional Testimony About Analise on Live.

3 More Alleged Victims Come Forward.

In  an  emotionally  raw  livestream  aired  late  Friday  night,  VENUS  member  Chloe  delivered  a  tearful  and  vulnerable  account  of  her  past  experience  with  soloist  Analise,  detailing  what  she  described  as  "months  of  manipulation,  public  humiliation,  and  silent  fear"  during  their  shared  time  under  Mydol  Entertainment.

The  livestream,  which  has  already  surpassed  3  million  views  on  URIDOL  within  12  hours,  shows  Chloe  reading  shakily  from  a  handwritten  note,  visibly  struggling  to  hold  back  tears.

“I  didn’t  want  to  speak  before,”  Chloe  says,  her  voice  trembling.  “Because  I  thought  no  one  would  believe  me.  But  I’ve  been  carrying  this  for  too  long.  That  rehearsal  incident  in  2021  wasn’t  the  only  time.  It  was  the  one  time  cameras  caught  it.”

She  continues:

“She  [Analise]  used  to  single  me  out  in  front  of  staff.  If  I  danced  wrong,  she’d  stop  the  music  and  tell  everyone  to  ‘watch  Chloe  mess  it  up  again.’  I  started  dreading  practice.  I  stopped  eating  properly.  I  thought  if  I  just  got  better,  maybe  she’d  stop.”

Chloe  took  several  pauses  during  the  live,  at  one  point  turning  away  from  the  camera  and  whispering  “I  don’t  want  to  cry,”  as  fans  flooded  the  chat  with  hearts  and  messages  of  support.

“I’m  not  doing  this  for  pity,”  she  added.  “I’m  doing  this  because  I  don’t  think  she  should  keep  getting  away  with  it.”

Following  Chloe’s  livestream,  a  now-viral  thread  on  Me2Day  claimed  to  include  testimonies  from  other  former  Mydol  trainees  and  backup  staff  who  had  allegedly  experienced  or  witnessed  similar  behavior  from  Analise.  KMG  has  verified  that  two  of  these  accounts  came  from  legitimate  Mydol  personnel,  though  the  third  remains  unconfirmed.

“I Was Just Her Backup Dancer” — Trainee, 2019

One  former  trainee,  who  worked  as  a  backup  dancer  for  Analise’s  solo  concert  in  2019,  alleges  that  Analise  once  screamed  at  her  backstage  for  stepping  in  the  wrong  direction  during  a  dress  rehearsal.

“She  threw  her  mic  pack  at  the  wall.  I  remember  it  because  it  shattered.  She  yelled,  ‘Do  you  even  know  who  I  am?  Don’t  ever  embarrass  me  on  my  stage.’  I  cried  in  the  bathroom  for  20  minutes.  The  staff  pretended  it  didn’t  happen.”

“She Threatened To Have Me Kicked Out” — Junior Vocal Coach

Another  account,  reportedly  from  a  junior  vocal  coach  who  worked  with  Analise  early  in  her  career,  describes  a  pattern  of  intimidation.

“If  she  didn’t  like  a  note  I  gave,  she’d  roll  her  eyes  or  say  ‘I’ll  have  you  replaced.’  At  first  I  thought  she  was  just  confident.  But  then  I  found  out  she  actually  told  the  label  to  fire  one  of  the  other  coaches.  She  was  only  17.  It  was  scary  how  much  pull  she  had.”

“She Made Me Bark Like A Dog” — Unverified Testimony

A  more  dubious  post,  from  an  anonymous  user  claiming  to  be  a  former  makeup  artist,  alleged  that  Analise  once  forced  staff  members  to  “bark  like  dogs”  for  her  amusement  in  a  green  room.  The  post  includes  no  names,  dates,  or  corroboration,  and  has  been  widely  questioned  online.

“She  laughed  and  said  we  were  her  pets  now.  We  barked  because  we  didn’t  want  to  be  blacklisted.”

Many  netizens,  even  those  sympathetic  to  Chloe,  have  cast  doubt  on  this  particular  claim,  with  top  comments  reading:

“Okay  let’s  not  lose  the  plot…” “This  one’s  clearly  fake  and  is  hurting  the  real  victims.”

Though  Analise  has  not  yet  responded  to  Chloe’s  livestream  or  the  subsequent  allegations,  her  legal  team  released  a  short  statement:

“We  are  aware  of  the  content  circulating  online  and  have  no  comment  at  this  time,  except  to  say  that  the  lawsuit  filed  against  Mydol  Entertainment  remains  active.  We  will  respond  formally  in  court.”

Meanwhile,  online  sentiment  continues  to  shift.  While  some  fans  remain  loyal  to  Analise  and  have  questioned  the  timing  of  the  video  and  testimonies,  hashtags  like  #StandWithChloe  and  #ProtectYourTrainees  have  begun  trending  across  multiple  platforms.

As  this  story  continues  to  evolve,  more  voices  may  come  forward,  and  the  once-clear  narrative  around  Analise’s  lawsuit  is  now  far  murkier  than  ever.

[  +1,143,  -69  ] “Chloe  didn’t  cry  for  views.  You  could  feel  the  pain  in  her  voice.  This  wasn’t  acting.  This  was  a  girl  finally  breaking  her  silence.  I  believe  her.”

[  +980,  -47  ] “She  kept  trying  not  to  cry…  You  don’t  fake  that.  You  don’t  fake  shaking  hands  and  scribbled  paper.  Analise’s  silence  says  enough.”

[  +912,  -34  ] “The  rehearsal  video  was  just  the  tip  of  the  iceberg.  Now  we  see  the  emotional  abuse  too.  My  heart  hurts  for  everyone  who  had  to  deal  with  her.”

[  +870,  -52  ] “People  forget:  being  a  ‘star’  doesn’t  mean  you’re  a  good  person.  I  used  to  stan  Analise  too.  Not  anymore.”

[  +799,  -28  ] “Chloe’s  live  made  me  cry  too.  She  never  wanted  this  drama.  She  just  wanted  peace.  Thank  you  for  speaking  up.”

[  +664,  -15  ] “I  trust  Chloe.  I  trust  the  trainee.  I  trust  the  vocal  coach.  That  last  makeup  artist  tho...  yeahhh  maybe  we  let  that  one  go  😂”

[  +626,  -19  ] “She  made  them  bark  like  dogs??  Okay,  now  y’all  are  doing  TOO  much  💀  let's  keep  it  believable  or  you're  just  helping  Analise.”

[  +518,  -10  ] “Real  fans  support  Chloe.  Real  fans  support  Mydol.  We  believe  in  truth.  #ChloeStrong”

[  +504,  -7  ] “Chloe  is  angel.  Always  truth.  Always  strong.  Thank  you  Mydol  for  support  always  💕”

[  +489,  -6  ] “Thank  you  Mydol.  You  always  care  for  artist  mental  health.  Chloe  brave.  We  love  Mydol!”

[  +471,  -12  ] “Analise  no  good.  She  hide  truth  always.  Mydol  know  best.  We  support  company.”

[  +397,  -72  ] “Why  are  there  so  many  bots  in  these  comments??💀”

[  +363,  -59  ] “Every  time  Analise  gains  support,  new  ‘revelations’  pop  up.  Chloe’s  story  is  powerful,  but  the  timing?  Very  suspicious.”

[  +342,  -67  ] “I  was  with  Chloe  until  the  third  story.  Let’s  not  ruin  this  by  throwing  in  weird  fanfiction.  Stick  to  what’s  real.”

[  +291,  -54  ] ��So  NOW  Chloe  has  a  handwritten  letter  and  tears  on  cam?  Girl  what  were  you  doing  the  last  3  years...”

[  +244,  -31  ] “Even  if  she  did  lash  out  at  times,  Analise  was  a  minor  under  pressure,  too.  That  doesn’t  excuse  everything,  but  let’s  not  erase  the  abuse  she  went  through  either.”

[bisayawa]

grocery runs & taking out the trash

✎___ lin lie × fem!reader

✎___ a/n: domestic fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, not proofread, possible ooc lin because i don't read the comics & i don't play the game. i don't even know if the iron fist is supposed to be outside of k'un-lun. i just think he's hot as fuck in marvel rivals. 1,400~ words. enjoy ♡

"did you really have to drag me all the way out here for some stupid grocery run?"

he's been whining about it all morning, from the apartment to the walk, from the entrance to inside, from aisle one to thirty three. he was like a toddler. he could light up a whole city with all the consistent energy he had for complaining… but you had to give him credit. despite all the eye rolling and huffing, he helped. he'd write down something new into the grocery list if you forgot. he'd remember the brand name and colors as if it were just fresh from his memory. he even remembered the specific aisles an item was in, no matter how niche. with some backtracking, wincing of prices and a bit of fun, this grocery run could be the most successful one yet. this part of the adulting shit might actually be an easy one.

"uuughhh…”

you sigh out as you check the price of a can opener, looking over your shoulder to find lin hunched over the cart. his face looks like it's melting off his head, sad and droopy and with a pout to boot.

"if i didn't know any better," you start, "i'd say you look like you prefer the life-threatening monsters instead of boring old civilian life."

you compare and contrast the prices of two can openers again… hm. one is all metal and lasts longer… but one is partly plastic but very cheap. you look up when you don't hear a reply.

lin is still hunched over, mouthing out your words and miming a flapping effect with his right hand, a caricature of your chastising. you swat him in the arm.

"hey! ow,"

"we are going to be in here for 3 more hours if you keep doing that, lin."

he huffs in answer, driving the cart forwards in an effort to appease. his eyes lazily glide about the store and its fluorescent lights. he checks the shelves and he remembers that you're already in the boring seasoning aisle.

“we don't even have to replace these yet!!” he hollers.

“yeah!! but you broke the can opener yesterday.” you holler back, gesturing to the rack of kitchen tools near the side.

he gets petulant again, resting his hand on his palm as he prods the cart to follow you. you end up putting the metal can opener in. the package thuds against the metal bars of the cart.

you check the list again on your phone, and everything is struck out. eggs, meat, vegetables, fruit, broth, snacks, chips…

“lin? can you check the list again?” you bring the phone closer, and he leans in. “it's all in the cart… can you think of anything we missed?”

he takes a moment, a long moment, quiet in his stance and blinking at the list. alas, it is fruitless, only confirming that you had everything you needed. you and he push the cart together to the checkout station; and just like last week, you check out the items, he bags them.

it's a soft monotonous hum for a few minutes, the clinical beep of the machine, the sterile music from the ceiling speakers, the harsh bright white of the lights. maybe this is what lin complains about. it's enough to give you hives with too much exposure.

you reach for another item only to remember you've finished scanning them all. you blink a little to get your bearings before taking out your card, swiping it in and paying for everything. turning your head, you'd see lin putting the items in the bags and hauling them into his arms. for once, he's not complaining. maybe he just needs something to do, keep him moving. he, a martial artist. perhaps he just craves activity, movement, get his blood pumping and all that.

you take the receipt, and he puts it in the bag, falling into step with you as you leave the grocery store.

the walk back home is quiet. fridays through sundays are always hectic. what takes you an hour to do ends up taking three or four, and so you had decided to go grocery shopping on a tuesday.

“hey?”

“yeah, lin?”

“did you buy those chocolate eggs i like?”

“yep, i did.”

“and the fancy instant ramen? the imported one?”

“yeah… but only one pack though. the shelf was empty and it was the only one there.”

“... maaa, that's okay. we can share it when we want a late night snack that isn't pizza.”

“will you finally top it with mushrooms, like i said?”

“fuck no.”

you swat him but it's gentler this time. it's a laugh in the form of a strike. he reciprocates in his own way, ruffling your hair until the fringe is undone. you laugh, and he laughs, too.

but even through the laughter, you see a familiar face at the end of the sidewalk, and it's not a happy reunion. the man is gaunt, old, balding and surly with wrinkles striped about his face. he has a coat on with his hands in the pocket. the panic sets in quietly and you cling to lin by the arm, trying not to look too hard at the man. it was probably just a blurry doppelganger, yeah? you don't even have your glasses on.

“hey… you okay?”

“lin, “ you say, already half hoarse from emotion. “hold me closer,” is what comes to mind.

his hand goes around your waist but still, he is unsure, looking to you for confirmation, for clues, for a sign that you're okay.

“please,” you tack on. he isn't holding you close enough.

the man brushes past and it's like a boa constrictor relaxes at your throat. you still cling to lin as he looks over his shoulder, his line of sight following the man before connecting two and two together. he hastens the pace.

"hey, come on, look at me.”

he's sat you down on the sofa. the groceries are on the counter in the kitchen… the world comes into focus, bit by bit.

“there you are. there's my girl.” he's cradling your cheek in his palm, big and calloused and warm to the touch. “come on, tell me what happened. what was that?”

his opposite hand is holding yours, kneading your knuckles softly.

“tell me what's wrong… please?" he pleads. "you were shaking back there.”

“it was the… guy.”

“yeah… i know but… i know there's more to it than that.”

“he uh,“ you pick your head up infinitesimally and lin is staring at you with every shade of brown in his irises. there's a wrinkle above his forehead. the living room feels like it's breathing with him.

“i went out to find a midnight snack last week… at the convenience store.”

“you… by yourself-?! you…” lin is seething out the words but he knows it's not what you need right now. he lets it go.

“he saw me… he wanted my number. he grabbed- ”

lin slams a glowing hand on the coffee table, breaking it in half, and stomps to the front door, and all you can do is pull on his hand as hard as you can. his breathing is heavy. his shoulders are squared. his hands are balled.

the tears start before you can say anything. a deep voice in your heart tells you his anger is your fault.

there's a huff from lin, a beat passes and his relents, going back to the sofa and enveloping you in his arms. his hand cards through knotted hair. he sighs into the crook of your neck.

“he grabbed you…?” it doesn't sound like he wants an answer.

“on the arm… only there. i promise.”

the breath of relief has him feeling dizzy. he squeezes you to him like you're his lifesaver. he peppers kisses into your pulse. when his lips brush over your heartbeat, it reminds him that you're here, alive and well and safe.

“don't ever go to the fucking store in the middle of the night again. you hear me?”

the nod into his shoulder is small, but he accepts it nonetheless.

the groceries are still on the counter ― the tub of ice cream is probably melting. the coffee table is still broken, but the priority is you. it will always be you, and he tells you so, with kisses to your pulse, with words of love into your throat, with gentle sighs into your neck.

when he's sure you're asleep, he kisses your hair and jumps out through the window to start his mission of finding the man that did you wrong.

[itwdoris]

toji being obsessed with beer butt he suddenly runs out so he puts it directly on your pee hole and makes you piss inside the bottle and drinks it with gusto after 😍😍😍😍

sometimes even fucking you with the bottle 😩😩

oh toji making you spread your legs and expose yourself well to him, using his thick fingers to caress your folds before opening them again, stretching to have a free way, guiding your hand so that you replace his. you can feel yourself throbbing in anticipation as he takes the tiny tube, kneeling between your legs.

he's always careful, looking at you before going deeper to kiss your clit, nose rubbing against you, he spits it out and rubs it with his thumb on your piss hole. all because his favorite beer has run out and he needs more, so he's ready to take some more from you and fill his bottle.

rubbing the tiny lubed tube against your urethra lightly, caressing around your clit to relieve you, starting to insert it calmly, little by little. you feel shaky, even after doing it so many times, looking at him who seems so concentrated as he begins to shove more inside you, you bite your lips and whimper.

"it's good... hm, pretty?" toji runs his hand down your leg to calm you down as he finishes inserting the tiny tube into you, kissing your thigh. "i'll open it and put in the bottle, 'kay?" he murmured and you nodded, gulping as you saw him pick up the empty beer bottle and put the tube in.

he looked at you then, satisfied as soon as he saw the stream passing by and falling straight into the bottle, filling it up. well, after making you drink so much water, after filling your with the rest of the beer he had, fushiguro expected at least half the bottle to be full... ah, you can do it for him, can't you?

his cock is throbbing just from watching, listening to you whimper as you use another hand to rub yourself a little, liquid still leaking out, his mouth salivates just remembering the taste, your taste. but his thoughts are distracted when you stir a little, his eyes seeing that it's about to end, even if there are still a few drops dripping, he doesn't want to waste anything.

the almost full bottle "weighing" down his hand as he grins at you and pulls the tube out of the bottle, placing it between his teeth as he rests the bottle on the side table, concentrating now on getting you free again. calmly removing the tube from you, listening to your whines, a mischievous smile on his face as you shiver and gushes out a few more short jets before it's really over.

moaning with relief, you relax against the mattress, just watching him pick up the bottle and bring it to his mouth to take a long sip, his eyes closed with the pleasure, something inside you stirring, making you hotter.

then toji pulls the bottle away from his mouth and licks his lips, a sigh coming out, he looks at you again, approaching his hand, rubbing the bottle's mouth in your hole with a grin. "so good f' me..."

-------

ok i had no idea how to write that, even though i looked it up, but i hope its at least readable. </3 // anyway,,, i don't like porn, but i found this video while i was researching and i think it's kinda good ?? kinda hot ok