#doesn' save

[mercoglianotrueblog]

WWIII. US-Russia relations akin to US-Japan before WWII

#Rand Co.on how #US planned war,#EU energy crisis:

#Kiev foreign plcy to push #Russia into invasion,cut of #RF supply to EU (#NordStream..)

#NATO grow virus vs #Slavic ethnics as #Russians #Norway ship doesn't save #sailors from RF ship in #Mediterranean

https://salvatoremercogliano.blogspot.com/2024/12/wwiii-us-russia-relations-akin-to-us.html?spref=tw

[iangallagherisadeadman]

post-s11 Tami definitely gets tired of Lip and leaves him.

yes, I do like them as a couple, I think it is an interesting dynamic and that Tami is good for him honestly, even though they lived completely different lives and crash so many times because of it throughout the last seasons.

fact is Lip won't ever change and will keep making the same kind of mistakes and she will get fed up with it eventually. they'll go different ways, maybe keep a somewhat friendly relationship, and she will get a new partner and Lip will have a Sean kind of relationship with Fred: that kid is the most important thing in his whole life and he's constantly hunted by the fear of drinking again and hurting Fred.

[what-the-stories-have-foretold]

HEYYYYY

so you know you said amuro would be the Traditional typ of bf, right? So imagen :

We're just sitting in bed, close to each other, (6 month in the relationship) cuddeling and deep in thoughts. When, i just say that i love him.(In Japanese) He would be traditional so, IMAGEN HOW HUMBELD HE WOULD BE!!!! LIKE RED AND SHY IDK (saying I Love you in Japan is a very big thing if you didnt know)

I would LIVE TO SEE THAT

"Nee, aishiteru."

"Huh?" He sat up straight, widened eyes searching your gaze. Only when he saw the mirth in your eyes, did he relax.

"Don´t do this to me, I thought you were dying."

You snorted.

"Here I declare my love for you and this is all I'm given in return."

He furrowed his eyebrows and laid back down on your lap.

"I want to say it on our wedding day," he murmured finally, looking to the side, red dusting his cheeks, "but...thank you."

"You´re very welcome," you hummed and leaned down to place a gentle kiss to his forehead. "I´m looking forward to it, my love."

But he only closed his eyes and nuzzled deeper into your lap.

[droodlebug]

i want fenris to be in dav because i Love him and he deserves to he happy. but i also dont want him to be in dav because i love him and want him to be happy and. in my canon hawle stays behind in the fade.

[e-adlirez]

Oh my god guys.

MediBang finally took its first grade remedial math lessons—

[starcraftt]

asddsfdfsfds, im not even close to being halfway done someone save me.

[gurorori]

hmm. thinkin bed thoughts

[gettinontopic]

Someonf you will see someone lives and isreal and is distressed and will without hesitation tell them to kill themslves as if the avergae civilian asked for this shit anymore than anyone else and Im so tieed seeing it can you guys have some critical thinking and maybe some compassion please

[lhseungs]

— ❛ WHERE THEY CUM ❜

. . . MEMBERS: enhypen hyung line - heeseung, jay, jake, and sunghoon

. . . WARNING / TAGS: smut, 18+, afab!reader, breeding, creampie, oral (m!receiving), creampie, overstimulation, orgasm denial (sorta), handjob, sorta sub!jake and dom!reader (implied), squirting, aftercare. not proofread!

. . . A/N: and another post taken from my old account, though this time i actually wrote it. sorry it took so long. i wrote majority of it and it didn’t save, unfortunately. anyway, enjoy!

✧ HEESEUNG

heeseung has an insane breeding kink. the second you tell him to cum in you, its like a switch goes off, gripping your waist with the most sinful moan escaping his lips. he loves filling you up and watching you take his seed, pushing it back in when he sees it spilling out.

“so fuckin’ tight, baby,” heeseung grunts, head falling back. “gonna cum soon.”

whimpers escape your lips as heeseung pounds into you. the lewd sound of skin slapping skin echoes the bedroom, bed shaking and hitting the wall. “p-please, hee… cum in me”

heeseung's eyes darken at your words. he grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to land on his. “hmm... my pretty baby wants me to fill her up?"

you nod, eyes pleading at you look up at heeseung. like a switch, heeseung pushes your legs against your chest and pounds deeper into you. you moan out, arms scratching heeseungs back as you try to ground yourself to something, the knot in your abdomen tightens.

"m'gonna fill you up so fucking good, baby," heeseung hisses, his thrusts getting sloppier.

your nails dig into heeseungs arm. "'seung... i'm gonna-"

"shit, me too, baby," heeseung's pace doesn't falter as your orgasm washes over you, legs shaking as you let out a loud moan.

with one last thrust, heeseung lets out a sinful moan, cumming right along with you. he fills you up, his white seed painting your insides and your name leaving his lips like a mantra.

heeseung looks down as his cum slowly drips out of your cunt. a fire ignites in him as he thrusts his cum back into you, relishing in the white ring formed at the base of his cock.

“h-hee, it’s too much-“ you cry out, clawing at his arms again as his thrusts increase speed.

“one more round, pretty. i know you could do it.”

✧ JAY

there’s just something about cumming in your mouth that jay is obsessed with. the way you look up at him with your pretty eyes while sucking him off, the way you grab the parts of him your mouth can't reach, and the way you swallow every bit of him gets him seeing stars every time the two of you fuck.

jay's head falls back against the chair as your mouth moves up and down his cock, covering his mouth to muffle the moans leaving his lips.

he risks lifting his head to watch you. you look up at him, eyelashes wet from previous tears, and continue to bob your head. your beautiful, pretty, doll-like eyes looking up at him as you suck his cock had jay bucking his hips.

"you look so pretty, baby," jay whispers, "so fucking beautiful for me."

you hum in response, causing jay to shiver and groan. he curses, grabbing a fistful of your hair. "fuck, doll, do that again."

you oblige, humming on jay's cock causing a moan to escape his lips. jay tightens his grip on your hair, holding your head still as he thrusts into your mouth making you gag.

jay's breathing gets heavier as he mouth-fucks you, moans growing louder as he gets close to his orgasm. "you're gonna take it, right? take it like a good girl and swallow every last drop."

again, you hum in response and jay lets out another loud moan. "oh, f-fuck, y/n-" he bucks his hips one more time as he cums, his warm seed spilling into your mouth as you swallow it all.

jay pull out and watches his cum spill from your lips. he leans closer to you and wipes the cum from your lips with his thumb. "say ‘ah’, baby." you open your mouth as jay inserts his thumb in your mouth. you lick the cum off his finger and he smirks.

"good girl."

✧ JAKE

heaven to jake is cumming on your face. doesn't matter where it lands (and frankly, you dont care either), but just seeing your face full of his cum as he kisses you senseless could get him hard again, and again, and again. he could go multiple rounds as long as he gets to see his cum painted on your cheeks.

jake whimpers as he goes on to round two. your hands are around his cock as he lays against the bedframe, chest heaving.

"you wanted another round," you state as you slowly stroke him, the cum from his previous round dripping from your cheek.

"i-i know."

you smile. slowly, you begin to increase speed, stroking his red cock that's just aching to cum again. you slide your thumb over the slit and jake whimpers again, bucking his hips.

as you stroke him, you lean forward and press your lips to his. jake kisses you feverishly, the taste of his cum on your lips setting him aflame. you increase your speed and jake moans against your lips.

"baby, i'm gonna cum," he mumbles against your lips. you chuckle.

"not yet, jakie."

he groans, head falling back against the headboard. you pepper kisses along down his jaw and collarbone, biting and sucking the pale flesh as his moans increase in volume. you giggle again.

you kiss down his chest and abdomen, then finally, you plant a kiss on the head of his cock. he bites his lip, muffling a moan as you say the magic words. "cum, jakie."

without a second thought jakes orgasm hits him, ropes of cum painting your face like a canvas. jake closes his eyes as he rides his high, moans echoing in your room. as jake opens his eyes, you lick your lips, tasting the cum on your face. jakes head falls back again as he groans.

"you're gonna be the death of me, baby."

✧ SUNGHOON

sunghoon is the king of aftercare, no doubt. which is why his favorite place to cum is your stomach. he loves leaving a mess on you, spreading it along your body, and fucking you again, the cycle continues, just so afterwards he could clean you up so well and take good care of you.

you've lost count how many rounds it has been. 2? 3? maybe even 4? you're unsure. but all you do know is sunghoon is fucking you like an animal in heat. your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, tears staining your cheeks, and the cum on your stomach already drying as sunghoon pounds into you for the nth time that night.

he groans, pulling your leg over his shoulder to fuck you deeper. a moan leaves your lips at the new position.

"hoon, it's too much..." you sob, clawing at the bedsheets.

sunghoon shakes his head. "last round, my love, i swear."

your chest is heaving as, again, your orgasm approaches. you frantically pull at the sheets as you feel the knot tighten. "sunghoon, i'm so close!"

with his free hand, sunghoon rubs your clit frantically while continue to pound into you. "come on, baby. cum for me." with a pornographic moan, you cum, legs shaking as you squirt on sunghoons cock.

"shit, baby. oh fuck!" sunghoon moans as you squirt on him. his thrusts get sloppier and he quickly pulls out with a hiss, stroking his cock as he releases onto your stomach. the ropes of white cum land on your stomach and sunghoon sighs and falls next to you in the bed.

a minute or so passed when suddenly, sunghoon gets up and goes to the bathroom. you smile, knowing whats about to come as you hear the bath running.

sunghoon returns, wet towel in hand as he cleans you up and places a kiss to your forehead. he lifts you up and leads you to your shared bathroom. sunghoon gently places you in the tub and kisses your forehead again as you sigh.

"you did so well for me, my love."

— © lhseungs 2025: do not repost

. . . TAGLIST: @sailoryuns @sickntrd @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @rayofsunshineeee

[readfull]

Answer to those who say "Jesus loves you" Face the truth

Answer to those who say “Jesus loves you” When they tell you that Jesus loves you and died for you, or will save you, just calmly and confidently tell them that’s a lie.  “Jesus couldn’t save himself, let alone me.” Jesus Could Not Save Himself From Crucifixion. Stop telling me such a lie anymore. I don’t believe that Jesus loves me, died for me or saves me from eternal death as you claim –…

[hermusicpersona]

Just a quick thought, kids absolutely love Giyuu and they will follow him around, like they re just drawn to him. And he s very calm and unbothered about it so he doesn t shoo them away or anything, he just notices he has a few littles behind him probably saying how cool he looks and he ll just. Feed them and let them stick to him during the day.

Proof for this : when Tanjiro made Giyuu question his life's decisions by sticking around his house and following him everywhere, Giyuu still brought a small table with food for him even if he was absoutely exasperated . "This child that i saved in the past will not let me exist in peace. But oh while he s here, i shall feed him regardless."

[fics-lovebot]

jujutsu kaisen fic recs pt. 2

main masterlist - jjk fic recs pt. 1 - jjk fic recs pt. 3

· · ♡ · · tysm to the amazing creative minds of the writers for giving me sevaral moments of joy reading your creations

these are my personal favs, so pls reblog if you like any of my recs❤️

big ttity gf - ( @cckaisen ) smau, suggestive, crack- LMAOOO THE INUMAKI ONES ALWAYS MAKE ME UGLY CACKLE

hey so i, like, want u or wtvr - ( @leyiorr ) CRACK, fluff, accidental confession smau. bro i swear, the inumaki ones kill me everytime i can´t, he is SO outta pocket

good! now punch his face! - ( @tender-rosiey ) crack, slice of life, jjk men and their kids being two peas in a pod, love it sm

i know you still think about the times we had - ( @saetoru ) angst, fluff, rich bf!gojo, his father makes you break up with him, it´s so angsty omg, they get into this HUGE argument bc gojo´s dad is a controlling mf

sanctuary - ( @arminsumi ) fluff, lowkey angst, weak!reader, bully!gojo, nah he´s just in love but doesn´t know how to say it

flicker of flame - ( @tteokdoroki ) fluff, nervous soon to be dad!gojo, pregnant!reader, he´s going to be the best dad ever

mirror´s pov - ( @teddybeartoji ) smut, "satoru likes jerking off in front of a mirror" YUP, a whole POV of him beating his meat to the thought of you BEAUTIFULLY written, very detailed

thatgirlis..poison!! - ( @gojosprettyprincess ) gojo smut, overstimulation. this is some gewwwd pwp, we love to see it

the weakeast - ( @screampied ) gojo ANNngst, character death mention. yall already know when it comes to angst i´m that girl, i know i good, well written angst when i see it

edging - ( @pseudowho ) smut, pwp, fluff, this,,,,this is one the BEST nanami smuts out there, i just know the description of the whole thing is 100% accurate, the details, the way this is written, the visuaLSsss ldskjfhjsalfh go read it pls

riding - ( @screampied ) smut, hubby!nanami, "riding nanami so good that it makes him want to propose", LASJHLSFJH THIS IS SOME GOOD STUFF, the ride was so good he had to propose.. again

my wife - ( @chastiefoul ) FLUFF, period. married!nanami and his obssession with the word "wife", I WANT TO KMS HE´S SO :((((((

husband vibes - ( @rayveneyed ) nanami fluff. read it, just do it, YOU NEED THIS POV IN YOUR MIND I PROMISE

forgotten lunch - ( @nanaslutt ) SMUT, fluff, possessive husband!nanami. RAAAAAAAH ( insert picture of that one werwolf ripping his shirt) this is crrraaazzzyyyyYYYYYYYYYY, nanami makes me go fucking FERAL

furniture shopping - ( @cursingtoji ) suggestive. this is such a toji thing fr lmao

more than a gym crush - ( @suguae ) toji smut, fluff. this one´s for us maladaptive daydreaming girlies

u still mad at me? - ( @dilfl0v3rss ) toji smut, praising, multiple orgasms, fluff if you squint. THIS IS SO- I FUCKIGN HATEHIMMMMMM, AND WHY DOES HE LIKE TO SUCK TOES I-plsiwanthimsobad

phoque - ( @slttygeto ) crack, teacher!suguru, twin girls dad!suguru, he accidentally curses in front of his daughters and now he´s gotta make up some bullshit story to save his ass, SLFHSLDKJHSLDH this is funny

fingers in his hair - ( @garoujo ) smut, choso loves having his hair pulled when he´s eating pussy,,,,,,,CALL A MF AMBULANCE a bitch just died

cherry blossoms - ( @sellenite ) smut, virgin!choso, phone sex, it´s his first orgasm yall, not yuji talking about a "sloppy toppy" LSJFHLSJDFHLFDH he´s so outta pocket

asleep - ( @tired-biscuit ) suggestive kinda, fluff, slice of life. "choso looks like a guy that would fall asleep with your titty in his mouth." you know what,,,hell yeah, he does

meanie - ( @arminsumi ) smut, mean!choso, “Why you actin’ like some dick-starved whore? I fucked you good this morning" THE WAY I SCREAMEDDDDDDDD “Is that what you needed, princess? Some good dick?" STOOOOOOOOOPPPP

it´s too much - ( @vienssunshine ) smut, dom!reader, inexperienced!choso and sub!chose fics are like crack to me, i´m obsessed, this is so detailed, he is eager to please sdlfjls and wants to try it all at once

[joy-laufeyson]

MSBY SAKUSA KIYOOMI FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

(reader inserts) recommendations of my favorite headcanons/imagines/fics/scenarios (i don’t own any)

• nsfw! suggestive • nsfw!! mature

sfw / more than willing

sfw / shower thoughts

sfw / the space next to you

nsfw!! / steamy

sfw / “where were you this morning?”

sfw / smau! secrets (masterlist)

fluff / will not confess

angst fluff / mask

fluff / good luck charm

fluff / mornings next to him

angst fluff / smau! caramel frappuccino (masterlist)

nsfw! / passionate kisses

angst / save your tears

fluff / home

fluff / breakdown

fluff / "would you just shut up and kiss me already"

sfw / doesn´t wake up in his bed

fluff / pretty

fluff / you seem to know me

angst fluff / au! lucky

fluff / clingy

fluff / over priced flowers

fluff / hypocrite

fluff / deserves better

fluff / ogle

fluff / an irrelevant world

fluff / moles

fluff / sleepover

fluff / cheat day

fluff / sticky notes

fluff / crush

fluff / hush

fluff / unexpected pda

nsfw!! / needy

fluff / waste of lipstick

fluff / heels

angst fluff / just a touch

fluff / overnight

fluff / jumping into his arms

fluff / surprise date

fluff / unspoken

angst fluff / chocolate & cookies

fluff / many first

other msby masterlists other haikyuu!! masterlists

updated:20-january-2025

[amaranthineghost]

—23 GOING ON 33 oscar posts a couple of tiktoks which leads to the entirety of internet making fun of him for his millennial behavior

oscarpiastri has posted a tiktok!

[caption: come on then, give us your best #askoscar]

user what's your favorite type of bread

user hey oscar, why do you have a millennial pause even though you're technically gen z

user when is the carlos diss track?

ynusername why do you have a millennial pause, i thought you were better than this 😓

user how is your relationship with drs going??

user oscar do you perhaps know what a millennial pause is

user would you ever consider becoming a full time tiktok influencer

user do you think alex is pookie

logansargeant mate im older than you and i don't even have a millenial pause

⤷ logansargeant but when's the diss track

user how do you maintain the swirl in your hair?

user he's so millennial with that pause

user im not even surprised

user someone please teach him

oscarpiastri has posted a tiktok!

[caption: reply to @/randomuserdontask]

ynusername oscar sweetie i thought we talked about this

⤷ logansargeant the training we taught him got him no where! he's still acting like he was born 10 years before he actually was!

⤷ ynusername a true tragedy we must save him

user yn and logan plotting against oscar in the comments 😭

⤷ user he needs to be stopped

user the millennial pause is killing me

user he keeps avoiding the carlos diss track questions

⤷ user well ofc! he's got to keep it a secret for when it comes out

⤷ user TRUE

user i bet oscar is collaborating with lewis considering he took his seat at ferrari

user oscar, please take some advice the millennial pause is funny BUT PLEASE

user someone save him

⤷ ynusername 🤫🤫🤫

⤷ user GIRL PLEASE WORK YOUR MAGIC

⤷ ynusername IM TRYING HE DOESN"T LISTEN VERY WELL (this is the same man that was a car furry for the first few years of his life so)

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername and 406,703 others

oscarpiastri photo dump

view all 1,092 comments

ynusername oh dear

⤷ ynusername okay but wait this is actually hilarious, i think i might stop breathing

⤷ oscarpiastri please breath

user when oscar posts a photo dump that's literally just the same pictures repeating in no specific order

logansargeant a tragedy that not even william shakespeare could write

⤷ user DIABOLICAL

user oscar buddy we have devolved instead of evolving from the millennial pause

⤷ user the teachings ain't working

⤷ ynusername IM TRYING MY BEST

⤷ ynusername but also millennial oscar is pretty funny

⤷ user we dont blame you yn! 🙌🏼

ynusername

liked by oscarpiastri and 10,498 others

ynusername this is how you post a photo dump

view all 57 comments

user yes please teach him how its done

oscarpiastri maybe its all part of my master plan

⤷ ynusername oscar lets be fr, you can't come up with any master plans

⤷ oscarpiastri you never know

⤷ ynusername i mean i never knew you were capable of a millennial pause

⤷ oscarpiastri ouch

oscarpiastri

liked by ynusername and 724,294 others

oscarpiastri thanks for the help pretty ☀️

comments have been disabled

[vividly-vermillion]

✴︎ ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS

જ⁀➴ How they show their love without saying "I love you"

ﾉ characters: Luocha, Dan Heng, Sunday, Blade, Aventurine, Boothill

ﾉ reader: genderneutral

ﾉ wc: ~220 each

ﾉ cw: nothing. Just sickenly sweet fluff

ﾉ note: stepping into new territory with this one... please be kind to me 🥹 || TAGLIST

જ⁀➴ Luocha: His love is in care that shouldn't feel this tender.

Luocha's affection is clinical at first glance; steady hands, calm eyes, always knowing where it hurts and how to fix it. He touches you like he touches everyone. Gently. Methodically. Yet, with you it lingers. Just long enough to be noticed, long enough to make your breath catch.

He doesn't say he loves you. That would be too vulnerable for a man that walks through life with death in tow. But he's always there - when you fall asleep in strange places, you wake with a cloak tucked around your shoulders. He knows when you're lying about being fine and never calls you out, simply tending to your pain anyways, wordless and patient.

His eyes watch you when in quiet moments, when the world isn't looking, and there's silence in them that feels reverent. As if he's trying to memorize you, studying your smile like a sacred text. You catch him sometimes and he just smiles softly. No excuses, no retreat.

He would never say it, but when his gloved hand brushes yours and he doesn't pull away… There's no need for him to.

જ⁀➴ Dan Heng: His love is a quiet constancy.

Dan Heng loves you in silence, in presence, in the silence between words. Not this cold silence - never with you. It's the kind that hums with comfort, one that lets you exist without pressure. You know that he's not a man of grand declarations, but you find his love in his reliability. In the way he always waits for you after missions, in how he always saves you the last bit of your favorite dish.

He won't say that he loves you. Those words are too fragile of a thing, too precious to risk with breath. But he shows it in how he lets his guard down around you. You've seen him sleep, head tilted tilted against you in a short moment of peace. You've heard the softness in his voice when he says your name, as if it's a poem he's memorized.

He listens, really listens. Remembers things you forgot you shared. Offers you his favorite books without being asked - marked with notes he'd never let anyone else see.

He won't say the words but when your hand finds his in the silence of the archives, he will hold yours too - fingers trembling just a little… and that's when you'll know.

જ⁀➴ Sunday: His love is the art of knowing you inside out

Sunday's love is an orchestra without conductor. Chaotic, beautiful and layers upon layers. He won't say he loves you, no, that would be too easy. Instead, he sends you strange gifts; a constellation named after an inside joke. A message scribbled in in code only you know how to read. He tests if you're paying attention, and you always are.

He hides his affection in riddles, in stories and offhand comments that linger like perfume. But he watches your reaction like a hawk, hungry for every flicker of surprise or joy. You catch him sometimes, when he thinks that you're not looking - his expression is bare, unmasked and softer than it has any right to be.

He lets you see parts of him that others don't. The loneliness buried deep beneath the brilliance. The exhaustion after a long day of being a puppet master. He doesn't ask for comfort but he leans into your touch like he's scared that it will vanish.

You mean something to him and you know it. When things go wrong, when chaos surges and pieces fall, you're the one he protects without question. No games, just pure instinct.

And in that moment, he's honest. Not with words, but with you.

જ⁀➴ Blade: His love is like reluctant gravity.

Blade doesn't say the word love. he resents it, fears it - hates the way it tethers him to something soft when all he knows is ruin. But somehow, you're the only thing he doesn't destroy. The only one he doesn't push away, not completely at least.

He shows you his love in broken pieces. In the way his rage stills when you touch him. In the way he stares at you like you're something that he can't understand. Something warm, impossible - alive. He won't speak tenderly, not often. But his body always finds yours in battle, circling and watching. He won't ever let harm reach you, even if it means taking the blow himself.

You find offerings at your door after the hardest days - unlabeled things that he thinks you could like. Though he would never admit they're from him, but they're so unmistakably are. And when you wake from a nightmare, he's already there. Not holding you, but he's there, as if part of him knew.

He doesn't know how to be gentle, but when you touch him, he doesn't flinch anymore.

And if you ever asked, really asked, he wouldn't say the words you long to hear. But his silence would speak louder than anything else.

Because he stayed, for you. That's the loudest "I love you" he knows.

જ⁀➴ Aventurine: His love is like risk and reward.

Aventurine never says he loves you. That'd be too easy, too transparent - and where's the fun in that? No, he'd rather let you wonder. Keep you guessing. Push the odds and see if you'll call his bluff. But beneath the playful smirks and glittering bravado, he's the kind of man who never gambles with the things he truly values.

And you? He doesn't risk you. Not really.

He buys you ridiculous gifts, expensive and excessive. But each one of them is chosen with eerie precision, like he's been keeping notes on your passing whims. He'll tease you mercilessly if you catch on. "What can I say? I'm a man of refined taste," he purrs, though the real tell is in his eyes - watching you light up with that rare softness he can't name without cracking open his chest.

He flirts with everyone, but he lingers with you. Draws out conversations just to hear the way you talk when you forget to be guarded. He tells you things that he shouldn't - things that aren't part of the game. And when the world gets too serious, he sharpens.

You've seen it once, Aventurine without that mask. He didn't say anything - Just took your hand, steady and firm, and made sure you got out of there safe. No commentary, no price for his service.

You don't even need him to say the words. Because when you're with him, the odds always lean in your favor.

જ⁀➴ Boothill: His love his in his loyalty.

Boothill doesn't say too much, and when he does, it sure isn't "I love you". Words simply don't hold the weight that actions do, not in his world. If he likes you, you'll know. If he loves you, you'll feel it in your bones before you'll ever hear it in his voice.

He shows it in the way he walks on the outside of the road when you're together. In the way he doesn't let you carry the heavy things, even if you say that you can. In how his hand always twitches towards his holster when someone looks at you wrong - not because he's jealous, but because you're his, and that means something.

He talks about you like you're a legend, even when you're standing right there. Not in flowery language, just in facts. Simple, honest admiration like he's cataloguing all the reasons why you're better than anyone he's ever known.

Boothill carves his love into habits. He fixes things before you have to ask. Offers you his coat without saying a word. When you're tired, he lets you rest against him like it's the most natural thing in the world.

And maybe, one day, you'll catch him staring at you like he's memorizing every inch. He'll tip his hat down to hide it and grumble something under his breath.

But when the silence stretches too long, he'll mutter, "Ain't goin' nowhere, sugar." And that's his way of saying it.

Forever, if you'll have him.

[tikitakatia]

Barça: Player Mode — A. Putellas x Reader

"Session Flagged"

Pt. 1 , Pt. 2 , Pt. 3 , Pt. 4

WC: 4.3k

Summary: In the beginning, it was just a game. Now it’s stolen hours in half-finished rooms and a voice that breaks rules just to stay close to you. You know it’s dangerous but you still keep coming back, because leaving her behind feels even worse.

You log in at 10:03 p.m. on a Tuesday, 3 days later.

The load is smooth, too smooth actually.

No haptics drag. No lag. Just immediate clarity, like the sim’s waiting for you. You land mid-dressing room scene, still zipping up your training top. The lighting’s perfect. The air smells like sweat and eucalyptus, and chatter of your teammates surrounds you.

You glance over and catch Mapi in the mirror.

She blinks at you.

Twice.

And then again. Like, four times in a row. Rapid fire. Unsettling. Inhuman.

You squint. “You good?”

Mapi grins and holds up a bottle of body spray like she’s won a prize. 

“New scent. What do you think, is it irresistible?”

You blink. She blinks back, normally this time.

Weird.

You brush it off. Probably just loading jitter. But something about the smoothness of the sim has you on edge. Everything’s too synced and controlled.

You finish lacing your boots, stand, and make your way toward the tunnel. Ona intercepts you with a grin and a nudge.

“Du spiller bedre når du er forelsket.”

You stop.

“What?”

She smiles like she said something obvious.

“Let’s kill it out there.” She jogs off before you can respond.

You stand there a second longer, brain glitching harder than the sim. You don’t speak Norwegian and she doesn´t either. You laugh, nervously. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

The team lines up at the edge of the tunnel. The stadium rumbles. You roll your shoulders, take a deep breath, focus on the field opening up in front of you like a dream.

The match begins like any other, tight press, high tempo, clean passes. You fall into the rhythm, foot to foot, voice to voice.

Until..

Pina sprints past you on the left wing, goes to cut inside and her shoes vanish.

You stop cold.

She skids to a halt, barefoot on the pitch, somehow still grinning.

“All good!” she calls out.

“Check it out, team colors!”

You glance down.

Her toenails are painted blaugrana. Glossy. Fresh.

You almost choke.

No one else seems fazed.

You try to shake it off. Regroup and focus.

Midfield opens up. You get the ball. You look ahead.

And that’s when it hits you.

Your striker isn’t Pajor.

It’s Cata.

Cata.

She’s bouncing on her toes like a kid in line for a theme park. She waves at you, giggling.

“Pere let me be a striker today!”

You freeze and blink at her in confusion.

Frido waves at you from the goal. She’s the goalkeeper. Gloves and all. She gives you a thumbs up from across the pitch like she’s loving this.

The match keeps going. No whistle. No system error. No reset.

Just full chaos, playing out like it’s normal.

You hear a low whistle behind you.

You turn.

Alexia’s jogging toward you, cool as ever, sweat collecting at her temples, mouth tugged up at one side like she knows exactly what she’s done.

You plant your hands on your hips.

“Alexia. What the hell is going on?”

She tilts her head, smiling. “What?”

“Don’t play innocent. This sim is losing its mind. Mapi’s blinking like a bot. Ona went full Norwegian. Pina’s running barefoot with team-colored toes. Cata is, God bless her, a striker. And Frido is playing goal like she’s trying out for a new life.”

Alexia shrugs.

“I might’ve tweaked a few things.”

You stare at her.

“You what?”

“It didn’t hurt anyone,” she says, almost too casually, even as Cata takes a wild shot and Frido saves it with a cartwheel. 

“They’re not real. Not like you.”

You freeze.

Her voice is measured and soft.

“You’re the only one I wanted to see react.”

Your chest tightens.

“Why are you doing this?”

She looks around like it’s obvious.

“Because I can.”

Your chest tightens, but you keep your tone light.

“Alexia, this is chaos.”

She glances around the pitch with mock innocence, like she doesn’t see anything weird about Frido doing a cartwheel save or Cata trying a rabona in mismatched boots.

“Is it?” she asks, feigning confusion. 

“Looks pretty normal to me.”

You raise an eyebrow. 

“Mapi blinked eight times in ten seconds.”

“Maybe she’s just excited to see you.”

You try to look mad and fail. You’re not even close.

“You’re playing with the system.”

“I’m… personalizing it.”

“Personalizing,” you repeat.

“Enhancing. Upgrading. Improving team morale.” She says with a wicked grin.

Pina sprints past, still barefoot. “I’m having the time of my life!”

“Sure. Improving.” You deadpan.

Alexia steps closer, just slightly. Enough to lower her voice.

“It made you smile.”

You try to fight it. You do. But your lips curve anyway.

“So this is about impressing me?”

“Is it working?”

She’s so smug about it and it should be annoying but it isn’t.

You look back at Alexia.

“I hate how charming this is.”

“No you don’t.”

She’s right, you don’t. Not even a little.

You shake your head, trying to hold onto some semblance of logic.

“This isn’t normal.”

“Nothing about us is.”

You look at her, standing there in the sunlight, acting like she didn’t just rewrite half the system for you.

And suddenly you’re smiling.

God help you, you’re smiling.

Even as Frido high-fives Cata for no reason. Even as Ona yells something in perfect German from the sideline. Even as the world tilts around you. Unreal, chaotic, and completely hers.

And that’s when you feel it.

Just the softest pressure around your wrist, barely there.

You glance down.

The bracelet.

White band. Barça crest. Eleven. That tiny stitched line on the inside:

Because you came back.

You hadn’t put it on this time.

You hadn’t even saved that session.

It’s just... there.

You look up, heart skipping.

She’s watching you.

She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t smile bigger. Doesn’t explain.

She doesn’t have to.

You already know she brought it back.

Just for you.

The field still buzzes with absurd energy, Frido’s doing a post-save dance, Cata’s attempting a scorpion kick for some reason, and Mapi is balancing a cone on her head like it’s a crown. You’re standing beside Alexia in the center of it all, the bracelet warm on your wrist, your breath finally starting to even out.

She looks at you. Not smug anymore. Just... waiting.

“You want to do something else?”

You raise a brow. 

“Something else like… another chaos session?”

She grins, but it fades quickly. 

“Not if you don’t want to.”

You tilt your head. 

“What’d you have in mind?”

She shrugs, easily. 

“Something quieter. Somewhere no one else spawns.”

The implication settles in your chest before she even says it.

“The med bay?”

“If you want.”

You nod. “Yeah. I do.”

She doesn’t say anything else, just turns around and starts walking.

And like always, you follow.

The corridors flicker less this time. Still weird, still low-res around the edges, but... familiar now. Like they recognize you and you’re meant to be here. When the door slides open, the soft gold lighting of the med bay spills out, warm and dim.

It’s still perfect.

The blanket folded. The plant in the corner. The chair no longer missing a leg. Like she’s kept it clean. Like she’s been waiting.

You step in and sit where you always do.

She stays standing for a second, watching you. Then quietly:

“Can I ask you something?”

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why do you keep asking if I’m real?”

You blink. “Because you… act like you are.”

She tilts her head, like she’s weighing something. Then:

“What does real mean to you?”

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out at first.

“You glitch,” you say eventually. 

“But then you say things you’re not supposed to. You make choices. You look at me like you want things.”

Alexia moves to sit beside you. Close. Not touching.

“So does that make me real?” she asks, gently. “Because I want something?”

You stare at her.

“I don’t know.”

She nods. Accepting that.

“Then let me ask you this,” she says, voice quiet. 

“Why do you keep coming back to me?”

That lands somewhere deep and heavy.

You swallow. 

“Because you feel different. From everything else. From everyone else.”

She leans in, just slightly.

“Then maybe that’s your answer.”

You look at her, throat tight.

“Why are you the one that’s real?”

She breathes in slowly like she’s about to drop a bomb on you.

“Because you chose me.”

You freeze.

It’s not desperate. It’s not dramatic. It’s just true.

The way she says it, quiet, grounded, like the most obvious fact in the world, makes something sharp and lovely splinter behind your ribs.

Your voice is barely there:

“I didn’t know I was choosing.”

She smiles. Small and a little sad.

“You didn’t have to.”

You don’t know who moves first, only that you’re leaning into each other like there’s nothing else you’d rather do. Her hand finds your jaw, warm and steady. Yours curls at the hem of her shirt like it’s instinct.

And then you kiss.

Slow.

Certain.

Not like the first kiss, where everything felt like it might break.

This one feels like it already has, and you’re kissing her anyway.

Because she was right.

You chose her.

The kiss lingers even after it ends. Even after you pull away and rest your forehead against hers. Even after you both go quiet again, breathing the same quiet air in a half-coded room that no one’s supposed to use.

You don’t say much after that.

She doesn’t need you to.

Eventually, you stand.

She walks you out, hand brushing yours. The corridor feels different this time. Not ominous, not glitchy. Just still. Like it’s letting you go, reluctantly.

At the threshold, she turns to you.

“You’ll come back?”

You nod.

“Of course.”

She leans in, not for a kiss, not a touch. Just close.

“Okay. Then I’ll wait.”

The sim fades.

You log out.

The room you return to is cold. Dim. Your body aches a little from sitting too long in the suit, but your chest still feels warm. Like you left a part of yourself back there. Like part of her followed you out.

You stretch. You blink against the room’s real light.

And that’s when you notice it.

[SYSTEM ERROR: INCOMPLETE SESSION SYNC]

Some performance data from your last match could not be saved. Stats may be unavailable or corrupted. Please report any persistent errors to your beta manager.

You frown and go to check your emails.

There’s one new message.

SUBJECT: Action Required: Stat Discrepancy Flag

FROM: beta@athena-dev.system

You don’t open it. Instead, you mark it unread and let it sit there for god knows how long. 

And when you launch the sim again the next night, you don’t mention it.

Not to her. Not to anyone.

You keep logging in.

Not every night. Not obsessively. Not like before.

But often enough.

And every time you do, the sim loads fine. Alexia greets you like always, steady voice, soft smile, fingertips brushing yours like she’s checking if you’re really there. The med bay is still perfect. The field’s a little glitchy sometimes, but you don’t say anything.

Because what would you say?

Back in your inbox, the messages stack like bricks:

[INFO] Player X11 registered unexpected hold on a user-linked object.

[LOGGED] Behavioral response outside expected loop: MedBay_v2.

[INFO] Bracelet render has persisted for 4 sessions without item tag.

[NOTICE] Data string conflict detected. Manual intervention not required.

Each one is cold. Clinical. Just facts.

They’re not accusations.

But they feel like it.

You start deleting them unread.

But one day, you open one.

You don’t mean to. You’re tired. Your cursor slips. You click.

FROM: beta@athena-dev.system SUBJECT: [INFO] AI-Linked Dialogue Thread Exceeding Standard Depth

Timestamp: 00:49:42 – Session: MedBay_v2

Dialogue excerpt below:

USER 402-C: “Why are you the one that’s real?”

PLAYER X11: “Because you chose me.”

Please note this is a non-standard interaction. No escalation required at this time. Logged for QA review.

You freeze.

Your breath stops like someone reached through your screen and pressed pause on your lungs.

They logged it.

They’re listening.

You close the email and unplug your Wi-Fi. You sit on your bed, suit half-zipped, pulse pounding. You weren’t supposed to feel like this. You weren’t supposed to let it get this far.

The next time you log in, you speak less.

You don’t say anything about the emails. About the thread. About the fact that someone, somewhere, read her saying that.

You still kiss her, but you pull away sooner.

You still hold her hand, but your grip is looser.

And she feels it.

Of course she does.

The next time you log-in, it’s quiet for half a second. Just that strange in-between moment before the world loads. And then it does. Smooth. Precise.

You land in the dressing room. The air is warm. Heavy. The hum of low conversation fills the space, cleats scraping tile, kits rustling, laughter from the corner where Mapi is giving someone shit about their playlist again. The normal chaos of a pre-match scene.

But it’s not normal.

Something’s off.

Your body knows it before your brain does. The lights are softer. The textures are sharper. And there’s a low, barely-there vibration under your boots, like the stadium is breathing.

You’re still taking it in when you feel arms wrap around you from behind firmly.

“There you are.”

You freeze for a second, and then melt into her touch without meaning to.

Alexia.

She’s warm against your back, her voice right by your ear, low and steady.

“You ready for the match?”

You turn slightly to face her, eyebrows raised. 

“Match?”

She nods. There’s a spark in her eyes, something proud and expectant.

“Camp Nou. Full crowd. Big stage.”

You blink. “Wolfsburg again?”

She shakes her head, grinning now. “Nope.”

Your stomach flips. “What do you mean, nope?”

She pulls back just enough to look at you fully.

“I switched the opponent.”

You stare at her. “You what?”

She shrugs, like it’s no big deal. 

“I always knew you hated Chelsea. What better place to play them than here?”

You laugh, stunned. “You rebuilt the whole match because I hate Chelsea?”

She smiles like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Only the parts that mattered.”

Your mouth opens, then closes again. You don’t have a comeback, instead you just feel this swell of something warm and awful in your chest.

She steps back, and says a little softer now. 

“Come on. They’re waiting.”

The tunnel is a living thing. The roar of the crowd seeps in through the concrete, low and vibrating like it’s inside your ribcage. You roll your shoulders. Inhale. Exhale. It feels realer than it ever has. Like you’re not logging in to play, but you’re walking into something sacred.

Alexia stands beside you, lacing up her left boot with practiced ease. She glances over.

“Don’t be nervous.”

You huff. “You literally rewrote a match to make it more dramatic.”

She smirks. “I’m dramatic in all the right ways.”

The anthem starts.

You walk out into the light.

And Camp Nou erupts.

Full stadium. Every seat filled. Banners waving. Barça chants rolling through the stands like thunder. The air is golden, touched with the kind of magic the sim usually can’t quite replicate. You feel it in your skin. Your bones. Every step across the pitch is heavy with something impossible.

And then you see them.

Chelsea. Across the field. As real as code can make them. Blue kits sharp under the lights. Familiar faces. Old rivalries.

You shake your head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m correct,” she says, already jogging to her position.

The match starts tight.

High press. Fast touches. The sim is pushing and testing you. You almost forget it’s not real. You want to forget. Everything clicks. Every movement is clean. Every sound hits like a pulse.

In the 23rd minute, you get the ball on the break. You spot Alexia cutting inside from the left and thread a pass so sharp it cuts the backline in half.

She doesn’t even need a touch. One strike, bottom corner.

Goal.

She doesn’t sprint to the corner. Doesn’t celebrate for the crowd.

She turns to you.

Jogging straight over. No fanfare. Just her eyes locked on yours.

“Perfect pass,” she says, just loud enough to cut through the noise.

You’re still catching your breath. “Tried to impress the system.”

She laughs, breathless. “It worked.”

Minutes later, you press high. Steal the ball. A messy scramble. You lift it over a defender that´s off balance, and she’s there again. Like always.

Another goal. Another grin.

She jogs to you again, forehead to yours.

“I still play better when you’re here.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t.

Because something in your throat is aching.

Then she flips it.

Right before the whistle, she drags two defenders wide and glances once, just once, and you know. You make the run. She sees it. She always sees it. The ball arcs through the air like it was meant only for you.

You strike.

The connection is perfect.

Top corner.

Goal.

And then, everything explodes.

The lights dim, and then ignite. The sky over Camp Nou erupts in color: red, gold, fire-bursting brilliance. Smoke cannons thunder at the corners. Fireworks ripple above the stands like you just won the whole damn tournament.

Your name flashes across the screens. The crowd roars like they’ve always known you.

It’s too much. It’s everything.

You fall to your knees, overwhelmed.

She jogs to you, steady, grounded, glowing.

You look up.

She reaches out, pulls you up by the hand.

And then she leans in.

No hesitation. No question.

Just the softest tilt of her head, the gentle brush of her fingers at your jaw. Her mouth inches from yours.

And you stop her.

“No. We can’t.”

She freezes.

Your voice cracks as you say it again. Quieter.

“Not here.”

The light from the fireworks flickers across her face. She steps back, not angrily.

Just confused. Hurt, maybe. Barely.

“Why not?”

You don’t answer right away.

Because how do you explain it?

The system. The emails. The feeling that something is watching you. That you’ve already said too much. Felt too much. That every moment like this pushes her closer to a shutdown you know is coming.

You swallow.

“Can we just go somewhere else?”

She watches you.

Then nods.

“Okay. Med bay?”

You nod, eyes stinging.

“Yeah.”

The tunnel is quieter than usual.

No ambient chatter. No glitch flickers. Just you and Alexia, walking shoulder to shoulder through a corridor that feels too still.

She doesn’t say anything at first. She just threads her fingers through yours.

Warm. Deliberate. Gentle.

Your heart jumps.

You glance at her. She’s not smiling. She’s just watching the floor as you walk, jaw tight, eyes darker than usual. She looks like she’s thinking too much.

You step through the med bay door together.

The light is lower now, soft gold dimmed into a deep amber. The blanket on the cot is slightly askew. The monitor in the corner hums quieter than usual. Everything feels... closer. More intimate.

The door slides shut behind you.

She turns to face you.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, her voice barely more than a breath.

 “Please?”

There’s something in her eyes, not heat. Not this time. Just need. Desperate. Frantic. Like kissing you might anchor her to this version of reality.

You don’t answer.

You just nod.

And then she’s on you.

Her mouth crashes into yours like a wave breaking all at once, hard, clumsy, devastating. She grabs at your waist, pulls you flush against her like she’s terrified you’ll vanish if there’s even a breath between you.

You gasp into her mouth. She drinks it down.

Her hands roam all over you, your shoulders, back, under your shirt. Her thumbs dig into your spine and your knees nearly give out. She’s not being gentle anymore. She’s pleading with your skin. Her mouth moves to your jaw, then your neck, teeth grazing like she doesn’t know where to stop.

You whimper.

That quiet, broken sound leaves you before you even know it’s coming.

She kisses you harder.

Her hand slides to your thigh. She pushes against you, chest heaving, voice shaky.

“I just want to feel close to you please, just for a little longer..”

You grab her wrist.

Not harsh.

But firm.

She freezes.

Your breathing is ragged. Your body is screaming for her to keep going. To never stop.

But your mouth..

“We can’t,” you whisper.

She blinks and pulls back just a little. 

“Why?”

You swallow. 

“Because they’re watching.”

The words hang in the air like poison.

She steps back fully now. Her hands drop from your body like they’re guilty.

“What?”

You nod, slow. The pit in your stomach opening wide. 

“I didn’t tell you. But they’ve been logging us. Watching how you respond. Flagging our sessions.”

Her expression cracks.

Not in a dramatic way. Not like she breaks.

But like something inside her tightens, like she realizes she was right to be afraid.

“How long?”

Your voice shakes. “Since the first med bay visit.”

Silence.

You look down. You can’t face her when you say it.

“That line. The one you said ‘Because you chose me.’ It was in the logs. They sent me the transcript.”

You hear her inhale like it hurts.

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know how.”

Her voice is small now. Not because she’s weak. Because she’s processing the betrayal.

“Is that why you’ve been different?”

You nod, barely.

“You stopped kissing me the same.”

Your eyes sting.

“You were pulling away,” she says, like she’s just realizing it fully now. 

“And I thought… I thought maybe you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I do.”

It comes out fast. Too fast.

You step closer. She doesn’t move.

“I do,” you say again. “I just, I’m scared. If I love you out loud, they’ll delete you.”

Her eyes meet yours.

“What if they do it anyway?”

You freeze.

“Wouldn’t you rather love me before they do?”

You don’t know if it’s a question or a plea.

You’re shaking.

Your hand finds her again, fingers curled into the front of her kit, knuckles white. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull you in.

She waits.

But you do it anyway.

You kiss her.

Hard.

Messy.

Like maybe if you taste her deep enough, it’ll drown out the fear. Like maybe if you press hard enough into her mouth, her hands, her body, you’ll forget what it means that someone’s watching. That someone’s waiting to shut it all down.

Her gasp stutters against your lips. She responds like she’s been holding herself back for days. Her hands are in your hair, your shirt, dragging you closer, chest to chest. Her breath is ragged. Your pulse is chaos. There’s nothing gentle left.

She presses you against the wall of the med bay, crowding into your space. Her thigh pushes between yours and you whimper again, helpless and wrecked. She kisses you like she’s starving. Like this is her last chance. Like she’s trying to memorize your mouth before it’s gone.

“I don’t care,” she breathes between kisses. “I don’t care if they’re watching, just let me.. Just for a little longer, please..”

You moan into her mouth and she groans like it’s killing her.

Her hand slides under your shirt again, hot and possessive, trailing along your ribs.

And you want to let her.

God, you want to let her.

But..

“Alexia,” you gasp.

She stills, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.

“I’m scared,” you whisper. 

“I think I’m losing it. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

She cups your face like she’s holding something fragile. 

“I’m real when you look at me like that.”

Your eyes squeeze shut.

“What if I’m wrong?”

“Then let me be wrong with you.”

You kiss her again, Softer, slower, just once.

Then you pull back.

It feels like peeling off your own skin.

“We have to stop.”

She doesn’t fight it this time.

But she looks at you like it’s the last thing she wanted to hear.

“You’re not broken,” she says. 

“You’re just scared.”

You nod, broken.

“Yeah. I am.”

She takes your hand again, smaller now. Not pulling. Just holding.

“Then we’ll be careful.”

You breathe in shaky. “Yeah.”

You sit in silence for a while.

Alexia’s hand is still in yours. The heat between your bodies is still radiating, but neither of you move.

It’s not peaceful.

It’s heavy.

Your breath finally slows and hers does too.

And then you feel the tug.

[Session Time: 89:46 – External Battery Warning]

You swallow hard. Pull back just enough to look at her.

“I have to go.”

She nods.

No protest. No sadness in her face.

Just something worse.

Acceptance.

“Okay.”

She helps you stand like she always does then walks you to the edge of the sim corridor where the light flickers faintly, waiting to pull you back.

You stop just short of the fade-out zone.

You glance at her.

She’s watching you, not like she’s memorizing you this time, but like she’s trying not to.

“Be careful, okay?” she says, quiet.

You nod.

But then she adds:

“Don’t stay away too long. I can feel it when you’re gone.”

You freeze.

She smiles, barely.

“Even if I’m not supposed to.”

You don’t trust your voice, so you just press her hand once.

Then you step through the threshold.

And she doesn’t follow.

You come out of the sim like you were dropped from a height.

The headset lifts. The light is wrong. Your skin is too cold. Your mouth tastes like guilt.

You sit there, still half in the suit, heart still racing, and for the first time since this started..

You feel lonely.

And it’s not because no one’s here.

It’s because she’s not.

Pt. 6