#don’t ever say I never gave you anything

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ daddy playlist (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : f1 gird x leclerc! reader ( platonic )

summary: the leclerc sister causing havoc in the f1 driver’s life

tw : fluff; chaos, VERY SUGGESTIVE

fc : emma chamberlain

a/n : this was requested anonymously by an anon! I hope you like it and thank you so much for supporting me ! lysm 🫶🏻 the reader is gay, so don’t like it, don’t read it 🫶🏻 also, there are a lot of suggestive jokes, so please don’t read if you are uncomfortable

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by norriz, albono, georgey and 78 others

babyn daddy's home chauffeuring these Lil girls

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lordperceval wtf are you driving a Mercedes !?

lordperceval haven't I bought like 10 ferrari's for you ?

lordperceval even Lewis is leaving Mercedes

babyn calm down, brother dearest, it's georgey's

georgey shame on all of you for catfishing in my car

albono I AS WELL also own a Mercedes 🙏

albono norris, you better be careful in track, the fuck are you sending my ugliest pictures on the net

norizz oh come on, if you are ugly, you are going to be ugly

max1 and not like you don't crash every now and then

colawithice it's the Williams' fault

chillijr that's why I am replacing you

colawithice and that's why I am replacing checko ✅

babyn YOU ARE GOING TO REDBULL!?

babyn OH MY GOD

babyn REDBULL WILL HAVE MILFS

babyn BOTH OF THE DRIVERS ARE DATING MILFS

norizz or they just have mummy issues

max1 and you have height issues

colawithice height does not matter, it's the girth

hamsandwich it's the looks 💪🏻

georgey why do you follow yn?

babyn WHY WONT HE!?

kikagnome the whole grid follows her

babyn except the drivers without talent and daddy issues

peirreneedsgas then why is Lando following you ?

norriz mate, last time I checked, I WAS THE ONE COMPETING FOR THE CHAMPIONSHIP

babyn and it was all too much for little Lando Norris

pastry we still are winning then constructors💪🏻

chillijr Ferrari will cover up

babyn only if they pass the radio in spanish from now on

georgey 😶

albono 😶

pastry 😶

lilyhye 😶

babyn LILY WHY WERE YOU OFFLINE

carmenvroom 😶

liked by lilyhye, kikagnome, alexmieux and 104 others

babyn the only man I would ever spread my legs for -

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lordperceval you are not getting out of my sight anymore

lordperceval dare you leave the Ferrari garage

babyn I will go the McLaren garage

pastry oh fuck no, BIANCA IS NOT THERE FOR EVERY RACE

babyn 😔

max1 I will join you

babyn turning people gay since 01 💪🏻

babyn but before, give me Kelly

max1 you can very much take toto, thank you

kikagnome yn, babe stick to one person yeah ?

babyn stop flaunting your relationship with pierre

pierreneedsgas SHE DIDNT EVEN SAY ANYTHING !

babyn your existence is enough

kikagnome why do I have you as my best friend again ?

babyn idk, sounds like a you problem

liked by norizz, kikagnome and 84 others

babyn SHE FUCKING LOOKED AT ME !?

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norizz was it necessary to use me ?

babyn well yes, you are confused everytime

max1 thank God you will stay off Kelly now

babyn NEVER FROM MY FAV MILF

ollibear Bianca gave me her number

babyn TO YOU !?

olliebear what's so surprising ?

babyn YOU ARE WHITE AND YOUNG AND WELL A KID

olliebear YOU ARE WHITE TOO !?

babyn I AM MONEGASQUE

kingarthur sorry ollie, she failed her middle school

norizz she just looked

babyn itz the start of our marriage book, I have already made like 10 playlists

colawithice tell me you're gay without telling me you are gay

babyn you are LaTiNa

colawithice I WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU

lordperceval every week, you tell me some other girl is going to my sister in law

babyn I WANT TO BECOME A WAG

kikagnomes ITS FRIENDSHIP GOALS CHARLES

pierreneedsgas wait what

babyn calm down french fry, you both only met because of me

hamsandwich please don't, we don't need another person on the grid with an age gap

chillijr I think being in the f1 world has a mandatory check of having an age gap relationship

albono ME AND LILY are very happy 😊

georgey so are we Carlos

rebecamour Carlos, I AM ONLY ELDER TO YOU BY ONE YEAR

chillijr I didn't mean it about us !!

rebecamour Aren't you an f1 driver !?

babyn he is not, he is unemployed

chillijr I am!! But we love each other and Y/N, STOP

babyn no one tells me to stop, I LOVE BEING IN COMMAND

chillijr Charles, control your sister

lordperceval Arthur, please do

kingarthur only maman can

hamsandwich well you could show this account to her ?

babyn ALL GOOD

babyn NO NEED

babyn I AM GAY AND HAPPY

babyn NOT SHARING ANYMORE

lordperceval I love maman

kingarthur so do I 😊

liked by pierreneedgas, kikagnome and 92 others

babyn Kika, the first girl who I fell in love with, the girl who taught me how to wear heels, the girl who taught me how to make my boobs look big ( you kind of catfished pierre..?) and girl who has been with me since we were thirteen. happy 21 my love 😗😗

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kikagnomes finally I get some appreciation 🫶🏻😊

pierreneedsgas the only post I ever liked on this account

babyn says the man who got catfished

kikagnomes I AM NOT THAT FLAT

babyn OH PLEASE

kikagnomes WELL I HAVE A BOYFRIEND

babyn who will gladly lick the plate

kikagnomes PLATE !?

norizz this is the first time I have seen boobs being compared to plates

pierreneedsgas shut up norris

kikagnomes shut up lando !!

babyn love let's just continue on the gc ?

kikagnomes yes, I need to debrief as well !

pierreneedsgas debrief what ?

babyn how you only last like 3 rounds !?

pierreneedsgas HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW !? FRANSISCA !?

lordperceval 3 rounds is impressive !!

babyn not for an athlete

kingarthur sister, what more do you expect from a human ?

babyn like minimum 5 rounds ?

max1 Y/N, this is not a formula 1 race where you go for rounds with pitstops

babyn y'all are just old

hamsandwich it's not about being old !!!

babyn forgot there were 40 year olds who can't even do one round

colawithice you women don't know how hard is it to keep the hip movements going

georgey EXACLTY, WE HAVE MORE FLEXIBLE HIPS THAN SHAKIRA

carmenvroom ....

lordoerceval the silence says a lot more my mate

babyn Colapinto beans, I am more dominant in bed than you are begging to be rode

lordperceval EVERYONE TAKE THIS ON YOUR CHATS, Y/N, SISTER I HAVE NO INTEREST IN YOUR SEX LIFE

babyn also Charles, work on your stamina mate, can't even go 2 rounds without panting

lordoerceval !? ALEXANDRA !?

alexmieux ... yn, love meet me NOW

liked by kikagnome, norriz, colawithice and 134 others

babyn when mom asks what me and that girl are going to do on a sleepover

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norriz at this point, you should sign up this account for onlyfans

lordperceval Lando, stop giving my BABY SISTER such ideas

babyn what makes you think I am not already there

kingarthur excuse me !?

babyn don't worry, I just sell your feet pics 😺😊

lordperceval the best investment from my money would be getting you a psychiatrist

colawithice give me some tongue tips

babyn milf not getting satisfied ?

colawithice you wish

chillijr telling your mom for future sleepovers

babyn telling reb about your Italy escapade

rebecamour Italy what !?

babyn nothing 🤭

rebecamour Carlos !?!?

chillijr nothing my love, she is just joking

chilijr STOP TRYING TO MAKE ME FIGHT WITH HER !

babyn sorry, I just thought you liked mariella

rebecamour MARIELLA !?

norizz just informing that Carlos won't be online for some time because I saw him run after her in the paddock

pastry why are you so mean yn ?

lilyhye Mena in What?

lilyhye exposing an affair !?

alexmieux as she should !?

babyn loves, there was no affair

kikagnomes you nasty -

lilyhye those are some damn long fingers ...

babyn someone just expressed their desire @ albono

albono thank you very much and I can work on it without your interference

lordperceval why in the world have you put me there !?

babyn Alex is lucky you know ?

lordperceval what did mom even eat before giving birth to you !?

babyn dad

kingarthur Y/N !!!

[ghcstao3]

AU where ghost is a relatively famous voice actor—by name, anyway. he’s never shown his face in those ‘behind-the-scenes’ videos, doesn’t do red carpets for the bigger productions, always leaves the press junkets to his colleagues. he loves his job, don’t get him wrong, it’s fun and creative and he’s met some really great people, he just… has never wanted to be in the limelight. that’s not for him.

and it’s easy to get away with, because all of the voices he uses are not really his. there’s elements of him, sure, but nothing someone in person could necessarily place, unless they really listened close and were some kind of super fan. in real life, ghost is soft spoken, and maybe his voice is a little rough from the years before he learned how to properly take care of his vocal cords, but it’s still completely separate from all his characters. that was a rule he stuck with throughout his career—no using his real voice.

soap likes to consider himself a fan of simon riley.

(of his work, obviously. just his work. he definitely isn’t intrigued or anything by the mystery that is the voice actor. nuh uh. not at all.)

he’s seen just about every film and show that features one of the actor’s many voices, knows what little trivia is known of him, and, ultimately, he really respects the guy. his younger sister had finally landed herself a sizeable role in voice acting pretty recently after years of odds and ends, and soap knows how difficult it is to make it in the industry. so what if he may also have a little bit of a crush on the unknown man’s talent?

and so what if that little crush has presently brought him to a bookstore, because soap had heard simon would be voicing a character in some adaptation and soap wanted to get himself caught up? it’s fine. it’s normal. totally normal.

it’s in search of the book when soap accidentally stumbles into an absolute brick-wall of a man as he rounds the corner. soap mutters out apologies, goes to move past him, but then looks up and melts, just a little. because it’s then that soap discovers the prettiest set of brown eyes he thinks he’s ever seen. and when his gaze briefly flicks down—he sees that the man is holding the book he’d been looking for.

soap grins, does his best to look charming in spite of the fact that he’d just run into this poor, beautiful bastard. “was lookin’ for that one, too.”

the man’s brow furrows in confusion before he realizes what soap had been referring to. his eyes fall almost self-consciously to the book.

“oh, yeah. it’s a good book. gave my nephew my other copy, so i’m just…” the man lifts the book in some helpless gesture.

“hm.” soap nods. he can’t help but notice how soothing the man’s voice is, low and rough around the edges, but completely soft in the middle. “y’hear they’re making a movie?”

the man perks up, and for a moment soap wonders if that’s panic he sees flash in his eyes. he clears his throat. “yes, that’s actually why i’m, well. i owned it before, but because i’m doing the—because of the movie, i had to…” the man sighs, shoulders slumping. it’s endearing, the way he’s gotten so easily flustered, like he isn’t used to small talk. “never mind. i’ll let you… i hope you enjoy it. the book. and movie too, i guess.”

soap laughs, not unkindly. “the book, we’ll see. favourite actor’s in the movie, so i’ll probably like it either way.”

“yeah?” the man cocks his head, curious. “who’s that?”

unashamedly, soap replies, “simon riley.”

it’s not unnoticeable, the way the man’s face blossoms a faint pink before he coughs and ducks his head. “he’s, uh. heard he’s good,” he says. “so others say.”

for a moment, it looks like the man is preparing to bolt, so soap sticks out his hand as a last-minute resort to keep him around just a little longer. “i’m john. friends call me soap. long story, but if you maybe let me take you out for some coffee, i could tell you?”

apprehension lines the man’s posture, but he eventually tucks the book under one arm and shakes soap’s hand. “friends call me ghost. and i’d like that.”

ghost’s hand is warm, his grip firm. soap tries not to let himself linger in the touch.

“sounds like a date.” soap smiles up at ghost. “did you want to do that today, or…?”

ghost shakes his head. “can’t today. but i can give you my number?”

soap agrees, but as he reaches for his phone he’s met with an empty pocket and the realization that he’d left it on the counter at home. he sighs, feeling disheartened, readying an excuse when he gets an idea. “d’you have a pen?”

ghost does, in fact, have a pen, though soap supposes he could’ve just gone and bought one from the bookstore just as well. soap tells him to stay put a minute, goes to retrieve his own copy of the book, and comes back with it opened to the first page.

“i’m buying it, anyway,” soap says. and it’s commemorative, he doesn’t add, of the day and reason we met. because he’s hopeful this may actually go somewhere.

ghost writes his phone number inside, deliberately hands the book back to soap with the cover pressed closed by his thumb, and they head to the register together.

it’s only when soap gets home and finally goes to type ghost’s number into his phone that he sees, above the digits, a small simon :) inscribed on the paper.

[fastandcarlos]

Halfway Round The World For You : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: as the two of you find long distance harder, max comes up with a solution that might just solve your problem of being so far away

A groan came from you as once again your call went unanswered, the beep of Max’s answerphone your usual greeting. You looked down at your watch again, sure that he would be awake as you quickly did the maths to figure out the current time difference between you both again. 

Whilst he was getting himself ready for the day, you were ready to see the end of it. As usual, there was one final thing that you needed to do before falling asleep, and that was to speak to Max and catch up. 

Mostly, he agreed to do it as it was his way of checking up on you. When you were so far away from him whilst he was racing, he worried about you. Were you resting? Eating? Not getting stressed at work? He never really knew the answer unless he called you and got to see for himself. 

As you were about to give up, your phone rang, making you jump. You glanced across, quickly picking up. “Hi love.” 

“Hi, I thought you were too busy for me today.” 

“Don’t be silly,” Max grinned, adjusting his phone so that you could see his face. 

Your smile turned up as you sat your phone down on your bedside table to free your hands up. As you glanced at Max though, his usual smile wasn’t there, replaced by a frown that had you worrying. 

“How’s everything going? Are you all ready for the race this weekend?” You quizzed, excited to see Max back behind the wheel for the start of the new season. 

His head nodded, with hardly any expression on his face. “The car is alright, but I’m not exactly confident.” 

His voice sounded dejected, the passion that Max usually spoke about work with had gone. He brushed his hand through his hair as he let go of a sigh which you just about managed to hear. 

“What’s going on Max?” You asked him, “and don’t say nothing, because I know you too well.” 

His heart sunk as his eyes met yours on the screen, noticing just how concerned you were. Although he was halfway around the world, you knew him like the back of your hand, picking up on all the signs that things weren’t right. 

“It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I managed to spend most of the off season with you and I’m already missing you. I just know I’m probably not going to be able to spend any proper time with you again until summer break,” Max confessed. 

You smiled weakly as he spoke, “I’ll still come to most of your races Max, and when I can I’ll fly out to Monaco to see you, you know we always make it work.” 

“But I’m fed up of having to make it work, this isn’t how I want it to be forever, I’m so fed up of this long-distance thing.” 

You didn’t know what to say as Max’s eyes looked down from the phone, staring down at the ground. You could tell this was something that had been troubling Max for some time as he finally offloaded on you. You gave yourself a moment before responding, trying your best to figure out the right thing to say, not wanting to make Max feel any worse than he already did. 

“It’s not going to be like this forever.” 

Max wanted to believe you, but he just wasn’t sure. It had been two years of back and forth between you both, and it wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, Max found it harder, he wanted to spend more time with you, but he just couldn’t. 

“I wish you could be with me, permanently,” Max confessed. “It’s so strange how weird everything feels without you by my side. All the little things, like how we were constantly bumping into each other trying to move around your flat.” 

“I miss it too,” you assured, staring around your empty flat. “But you’ve got work, another world championship to win, and I don’t have the money to be able to fly out with you every weekend, or ever afford a place in Monaco.” 

Your words caught Max’s attention for a moment as he let go of a hum. You could tell by the way his eyes narrowed that Max was thinking about something, studying him closely as you tried to figure out what exactly was going through his head. 

Max knew that Monaco was an expensive place, and not somewhere that you wouldn’t be able to stay by himself, but that didn’t mean that it was somewhere that you could rule out, not completely anyway. 

“What about if we did something about that? What if Monaco wasn’t a place where you had to live all by yourself?” Max asked you, watching as you looked at him in confusion. 

“What are you trying to say Max?” You enquired. 

The way his smile turned up had you worrying, you knew that Max had plenty of crazy ideas, dreading to think what sort of master plan he had come up with this time. 

“I’m saying why don’t you move to Monaco, but come and stay with me. You spent most of the summer with me anyway, and work would allow you to stay there,” Max encouraged. “Even if I’m still racing, it means each time I’m home we can spend time together.” 

You went to speak, but your voice faltered, struggling to believe what you’d heard. “That’s a huge move,” you whispered, “Monaco isn’t exactly next door, it’s thousands of miles away.” 

“But it’s where I am love.” 

Your head nodded, you knew that Max had a point, but moving wasn’t an easy thing. There would be plenty of things that you’d have to leave behind, uncertain as to whether that was something that you could do. 

“It’s a huge thing Max.” 

“I know,” he frowned, worried that he had put his foot in it. “I’m not saying you need to make a decision now; I just thought it would be nice for us to be together properly. 

Max was beginning to regret his offer as he noticed the panic in your eyes. You didn’t know what you wanted, you loved your home, but you loved Max too. It was a huge sacrifice, and although you loved visiting Monaco, was it the place that you wanted to live forever? 

“You don’t need to agree, or disagree now,” Max insisted, “I’m not saying you’d have to move permanently either. But if you did move to Monaco, I’d help you every step of the way. Moving, sorting work out, finding things for you to do, I’d do whatever it took. The thought of having you there every morning though is like a dream.” 

Your hands ran through your hair, your heart racing as you overthought everything. Every possible situation, good and bad, suddenly seemed to rush through your mind as fast as a race car. 

“Can you just say something? Anything?” Max whimpered. 

Your eyes slowly flickered up to look at the screen again, your heart aching as you looked at Max, knowing that he was so far away from you. 

“I’d love to move to Monaco,” you told him, much to his relief. “It’s not going to be an easy move, but you’re right, we can’t carry on like this forever Max.” 

“Really? And you’re absolutely sure?” Max asked, wanting to double check. 

Your head nodded, sure in your heart that Monaco was the perfect place for you. “If it’s where you are, then it’s where I want to be too.” 

“You’ve got no idea how happy you’ve just made me,” Max chuckled, “I love you, I can’t wait to have you with me, to finally make my place a home for the both of us.” 

“I love you too, Max.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[tswkento]

a.n.: kento has a hard time getting it up.

“kento? is something wrong?”

“no, i– i just need to– give me a second, love.”

nanami didn’t know what else did he need to get hard.

there was a beautiful woman laying right under him, his woman, the love of his life, fire of his loins — you. that alone should be enough, but you were also wearing nothing, laying on your tummy with your legs crossed and your head turned to the side so you could watch him. your body was literally the most perfect thing he’s ever seen in his life, every part of it a sight for his sore eyes and every touch of it a soothing pressure he never wanted to not feel.

it’s also fucking sexy because it belonged to you; all pliant and needy, patiently waiting for him to fuck you stupid. and the thought of it always made him so hard it physically hurt to be in any kind of clothing, without your touch to accompany his aching cock, but right now he was as soft as he was at a work meeting and nanami had no idea what was wrong with him.

at first he didn’t even notice he wasn’t hard because his mind was so clouded, the familiar fog settling behind his gaze as he licked and sucked on your pussy lips, took his time thoroughly swirling his tongue over your clit and playing with your cute little hole. he was so focused on your pleasure, he always is, that he didn’t even think about any possibility of this thing happening.

he guessed that yeah, maybe he could’ve noticed the issue when he was pressing his mouth against yours, adamant on swallowing every wanton, languid moan your let out, enjoying the feeling of your tongue gliding against his while your eager hand stroked him over the thick fabric of his slacks. the weight of your soft hand always worked easily if it was meant to make him go crazy, so the thought of being anything other than hard didn’t even cross his mind.

about 10 seconds ago you had that sultry expression that always made him want to stuff you full, but now you looked more concerned than anything. and nanami kind of panicked.

he sat back on his knees, thighs spread as he stared down at his crotch, and his rapid breaths began to drop, mind fully catching up to the reality where he couldn’t get it up.

soon you appeared in his line of sight, knees directly touching his as your palms settled on the meat of his thighs. you ducked your head to find his gaze and blinked at him patiently while he loudly exhaled air through his nose, trying not to look at you. ashamed.

“nanami? are you alright? talk to me.”

kento gave you an unsure glance whilst desperately trying to keep his face blank.

“i can’t, ” he couldn’t even bring himself to say it out loud. “i’m not– well.”

your eyes travelled down where he was so stubborn on staring and you pulled back slightly, taken aback by the realisation. you brought a hand to your lips, teeth digging into your nails — an action nanami was too familiar with to not understand that you were getting nervous, the thoughts of not being enough invading your beautiful mind. thankfully, kento could actually get a grip and think about you for a moment as he quickly cupped your face to make you look at him.

“don’t even think about that.” nanami muttered, the sternness of his tone enough to pull your out of your head. “you are fucking amazing.”

“i can suck you off or– or maybe if i touch you more–”

nanami’s mind was crowded with thoughts of how precious you looked just now, stupidly thinking that there was an issue with you when the real problem lied within him. glossy eyes staring up at him, a desire to help burning in your irises as you tried to inch your hands closer to his crotch once again, a blind attempt to bring some fucking life into his member that decided to be inconveniently dead tonight.

it was in no way your fault and he needed you to know that, to understand that, because there is no way you’re going to be fine with that overthinking mind of yours, so nanami just quietly shushed you and gently removed your hands from himself, getting off the bed to take off his clothes. his underwear understandably stayed on.

he crawled back onto the bed, tugging you higher along with himself, and wrapped his arms around you after sensing your mood going down. you still kept a wary look on your face, ready to do anything to make him feel better and nanami really appreciated that, more than you could ever know.

“i’m sorry.” he said, voice barely audible in the silence of your shared bedroom, but his next words came out clearer. “for making you think that you’re not enough.”

you inhaled sharply before sliding out of his grip to move a little higher than him, gently bringing his head to rest on your chest as you pressed light kisses on his forehead.

after rolling over to situate you on your back whilst he was still comfortably settled on your torso, the sigh of relief that nanami let out was hard to conceal because he was right where he was meant to be: holding you impossibly close, with his body between your legs and his face on your pillowy chest.

and he wanted to forget what happened a few minutes ago like a fucking nightmare yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it. was there some kind of nerve damage? was there something wrong with his brain, did it not register anything that was going on? your lips on his pulse point, your teasing fingers on the tip of his cock, your whines and cries that were his favourite sounds in the whole world. there’s no way his brain didn’t catch onto any of that.

your fingers threaded through his soft tresses, lightly scratching his scalp as he involuntarily groaned, thoughts turning into mush in an instant.

“do you think we should schedule you an appointment at the clinic, kento?” you tilted his head up and he nodded, a little dumbly, before frowning and lifting his head up.

“do you think it’s necessary?”

“i wanna know that everything is okay in here,” you tapped your index finger against his temple before grinning shyly, “and down there too.”

nanami chuckled, pressing a kiss against your chin, “okay, my darling.”

and then you started talking about an article you read about erectile disfunction, impressing him with the amount of detailed information you managed to grasp from it despite the fact that it was very much useless for you. it turned into you scolding him because stress is one of the reasons and work stresses him out and “maybe you can finally take a lengthy break, ‘namii” and nanami thought that yes, he could in fact be civil and get a paper from the clinic that could make his boss get off his back for at least a week and spent that free time on making up for what he couldn’t do tonight.

[soleilapproves]

You wanna do Boxer!sukuna x reader reacting to Jake Paul vs Mike Tyson 👀

I’m crying cause all the memes about it were so funny 😭

Notes: Yuuji is Sukuna’s nephew here, he is horrible with kids.

To say that Yuuji looked up to Sukuna was an understatement. No one knew why the kid liked him so much. And before you say it was because he was a boxer then you’re wrong.

He simply liked Sukuna because he could watch anything while being babysat. Sukuna had no idea what ten year old boys enjoyed so he just gave Yuuji unrestricted access to his stuff at home. He was sure the kid would find something to entertain himself.

Jin had strict rules about letting Yuuji watch things with violence but Sukuna could not care less. The boy was growing older by the day so it wouldn’t matter if he discovered stuff like that now or later.

The afternoon was uneventful. Sukuna was laying on the couch, gardening magazine in hand to assess lawn mower prices, you were doing chores around the house, and Yuuji was watching a boxing match on TV.

Sukuna didn’t care to give his two cents on it because he really needed that fifty percent off deal for one of his favorite mowers.

The announcer on the TV began to talk about Mike Tyson fighting and that had caught Sukuna’s attention. “That guy’s fighting again? I thought he was too old,” the boxer said.

“Yeah, he’s fighting against Jake Paul!” Yuuji exclaimed with a toothy grin (well, not so toothy. He was missing one of his canines after being hit by a soccer ball earlier that week).

“Who?”

“Jake Paul, only the greatest boxer ever.” Sukuna had to double take at his nephews words. He had never felt jealous of other fighters but come on, this Jake Paul guy didn’t even seem all that. He wasn’t even a household name. How could his nephew compare him to Sukuna, multi championship winner?

The man’s eye twitched- he was itching to smack the back of his nephew’s head but controlled himself.

“You know, heh, I’m a boxer too.”

“Yeah, but you’re not a real boxer. You don’t scream in the matches and don’t pose at the end.”

Sukuna had been questioned over his skill, almost beaten to temporary immobility, and even mentally scarred from the sport. But he had never ever been invalidated in his entire career. Not until his nephew expressed his opinion. Sukuna raised his heavy arm and left a light but firm smack on his nephew’s head.

“Ow!” Yuuji didn’t even bother asking why he did that because the boy knew he had ticked his uncle off.

So much for not smacking the kid.

Sukuna only got angrier when he saw Yuuji celebrate Mike Tyson’s loss. The boy had no idea who the real legend was.

“Kid, that man is old! He obviously wouldn’t be able to fight.”

“Who cares? He lost! I wanna be a boxer like Jake Paul when I grow up,” said Yuuji while flexing his scrawny freckled arms.

If Sukuna were to be a cartoon character then steam would be escaping from his ears. “That’s it!” He lifted the kid with one hand to drag him out in the yard. “We’re gonna have a match of our own. You said I wasn’t a real boxer, huh?”

Luckily, you had heard Yuuji’s screams for mercy and you ran into the living room to stop your husband from traumatizing the child.

—

You cannot tell me that Yuuji wouldn’t beg his parents for a damn Lunchly 💀

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! prologue : keeping up with Y/n L/n . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Y/n pov . .

Your fingers glided through the screen—which was on its lowest brightness setting—skimming through the terms and conditions of your contract, noting anything that stood out, before you threw the phone aside back on the nightstand and fell back down on your bed, pulling the comforter on yourself, as you try and relax your otherwise restless brain. 

Tired shallow breaths leave your chest, your eyebags felt heavy, almost weighing you down—and the light peeking from your curtains almost caused a headache—there was this feeling that grew in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite label, a mix between both nausea and the dreadful feeling of doom, and after effect of an intense hangover, that didn’t seem to go away even if you drowned it in water and pills. 

You hated it, you hated how being drunk leads you to do impulsive shit, and you hated the aftereffects making you so wary of your decisions, which only resulted in you sowing every decision you make. 

Everytime you drink, you end up regretting it, and promising yourself that you won't ever again—it’s not that you're a heavy drinker—You just don’t trust yourself, you never have, but the alcohol really does wonders in bringing those feelings of deep-rooted insecurity up to the surface. 

It’s really not your fault, it was an after party for the cast and crew in celebration of your series finalé—You didn’t do well under pressure, and when everyone around you was pushing you to take another hit and another shot . . and well saying no would have ruined the mood—You don’t regret going on your phone, and you most definitely didn’t regret emailing a response back for the hosting offer—You would’ve accepted anyways, the alcohol just gave you the push you didn’t have before. 

It still triggers your anxiety, because you’re jumping into something headfirst with nothing prepared, you haven’t done that in ages. 

You sigh, getting up from your bed, you’re clearly not going to get any sleep with this much stress, it would be best if you get some air, to calm down . . . 

You were still in your pajamas, a large winter coat and hat covering most of your features (in order to avoid paparazzi), as you made your way through the streets, your hands buried in your pockets, forming fists as you looked through your surroundings. It was early november, barely any snow to be found yet it was colder than any winter you’ve ever experienced in the city. 

It’s been four years since you moved out to the outskirts of Pyroxene, you used to live in the capital, before your acting career even started. You even attended University there, not much going on with your degree anymore though. A lot of your friends still live there, and sometimes you miss the bustling streets, the noisy cafe’s, the ability to meet up with your friends as often as you’d like, or the feeling of home—However, if there’s one thing you don’t miss, it’s the fucking traffic. 

The traffic there was hell. You still have a small private condo in the capital under your name, considering a lot of your filming jobs take place there, and it seemed like a better investment than renting a hotel room every time, and hotels generally trigger your germaphobia . . —Plus it’s a lot cheaper just renting, and convenient for last minute things also hotels in the capital are fucking expensive—and everytime you film having to drive back and fourth made you want to take a knife to your throat, but that’s not a hotel exclusive problem. 

You snapped out of your thoughts, when you heard a car horn, realizing you had walked straight into traffic. 

‘Shit.’, you ran across the street as fast as you could, and for a moment you started believing in God again, because that was a close one. 

Y/n and Navia beef because I looped "Girls so confusing" remix a lil too much and I wanted to have a friendship rebound in this because I clearly ain't getting one irl. (ew trauma dumping? in front of my yogurt/j)

I decided to double post and publish both pov's (praise me frfr/j), so you can get a grip on how things might flow?! Also creating relationships of side characters and dynamics as we move along, I want ya'll to really know these characters.

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

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© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[tori111777]

FRIGHT AND FURY

Part 2

Parings: Caracalla x wife!reader

Warnings: mentions of violence

Summary: You confront your husband, the emperor of Rome, of his sickness.

You leaned back in your chair. The bracelets on your arm clanging loudly as you moved, showing off your riches with just such noise.

Your husband was right in front of you, yet his mind miles away. It was always away when the people in the coliseum roared as they saw a persons eye get gutted out of his head. He would howl with them as well.

You did not care so much for this marriage was not out of love but Marcus. Dare not ever call him that, Caracalla has been different these past moons.

So there you were, starring intensely at your husband back trying to figure him out.

…

“More food, my lady?” A servant came up with a tray of grapes, all laid out neatly with additional touches of green that was obviously there for decoration purposes.

You didn’t say anything and put up your hand and shooed him away, you were occupied anyways as Caracalla finally sat back down next to you.

He smacked his chair and gave a chuckle, “did you see that?” “I did.” You said plainly, looking straight ahead. He frowned, “you don’t seem excited by that?” You turned your head to him finally, looking into his eyes. You tried to seem something there but there wasn’t.

“No, I have just seen better battles.”

He scooted back more into his chair, trying to get comfortable in his seat. “You’re right.” He agreed with you, “It has only just begun though, don’t fret my dear.”

Your eyes drew back to the sandy arena floor, dust flying up as people tried to dodge other attacks. The clink of metal on metal and the blood dowsing in the sun, it gave you no entertainment as it did to him. It happened so often, how are they not bored of it?

Your fingers absentmindedly tapped against the armrest, the cold clink of your bracelets and rings brought you back.

“You seem bored.” Caracalla frowned at you. You didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence stretch between each other. Shifted in your seat, eyeing him once more, his posture relaxed, yet his eyes gleamed with a hunger you never quite understood.

“I suppose I am.” Playing with your rings as you let out a sigh. “Caracalla's gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable for a moment, before he gave a short laugh. "You always were different. I suppose as well.” He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You don't care for the blood, do you?"

Your head turned as well to meet him again. You two were very close now and his eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, the heat of his breath on your skin.

The crowd went up again and his brother, Geta started to shout ferociously, almost as if he was fighting them down there as well. The sound broke you two apart.

His smile didn’t falter as he straightened in his chair, but there was something in his gaze—something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand. "You don't like the blood," he repeated, quieter now, as if testing something. Noticing him slowly disappearing more and more into his mind.

"You know, it's not the blood," you replied, your voice low and deliberate, "It's what comes after it."

He definitely heard you but decided not to pay attention to you anymore and decided to lean against the railing watching the show below unfold.

———

You did not see your husband, Caracalla until later that night, long after the sun had set and the games were done for the day. The moon shining bright and cooling everyone of the hot day in Rome.

Back in your chamber with the windows open. The wind blowing through your silk gown right in the moonlight’s direction. Looking out into the beautiful streets and hearing bells ring and children laughing. It was the only peaceful part of the day you would get.

Nor did you care when you heard footsteps enter into the room. "Are you still angry?" Caracalla voice was low, tinged with amusement, though you could tell he was testing the waters.

Your head tilted a bit and your eyes lingered on the marble floor. “I never was.” Keeping your voice quiet and steady. For a moment, he said nothing, only watching you. His usual presence was like a shadow, but tonight it felt like he wasn’t even there.

"You always do this," Caracalla’s voice broke the stillness, soft but tinged with something darker. He had moved closer now, though still keeping a careful distance, as if measuring the space between you both. "You retreat into silence like a stranger in your own home. You’ve always been so... aloof. Cold, even."

You wanted to scoff at him. To throw the vase on the table at him. You knew better than this though, you’ve played this game your whole life. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing your emotions. "I don’t retreat, Caracalla," you replied, your voice calm, though it held a trace of something sharper beneath it. “Something seems off with you these days, I fear.” You held your hands close to your chest for some comfort.

He breath became fast and he narrowed his eyebrows for a second. “Is this why you can’t look at me?” He raised his voice higher yet you did not flinch one bit.

“No.” You said.

He stepped closer to you to talk quietly yet anger was still in his body, it has always been there, a whisper in the night air. "Then what is it? What do you see when you look at me?"

You shifted slightly, the silk of your gown rippling with the motion, "I see a man who has everything, yet still wants more," you said softly, the words as sharp as the cold marble beneath your feet.

Caracalla paused, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath, the silence between you both growing heavy. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might lash out, the fury in him barely contained. Yet, he remained still, his lips pressed tight together as he absorbed your words.

"You always were good with words," he muttered, you stood unmoving, your back to the open window, the cool night air sweeping through the room as the distant sounds of Rome's nightlife echoed faintly in the background. The weight of his gaze was palpable, as though it was trying to break through the carefully constructed walls you had built between you and him.

"What do you want, Caracalla?" You said those words very loudly. You weren’t afraid speaking out against him. “You are not yourself these days, you are restless in your sleep and crave blood more than ever…”

He looked down at the ground and almost began to shout. “It is my brother! He blames me for everything I’ve ever done!” His voice pleased and aching. You’ve seen him like this before, but never this serious. Yet, you don’t believe he’s telling the full truth, or at least he knows the full truth.

You drop your hands to your side and step close to him, your silhouette leaving the silver moonlight that touched you. You brush your hand into his hair and look at him, holding his head. Your rings felt cold against his skin but he did not mind it.

“You are the emperor.” You spoke softly, trying to calm him down. He had always been out there but you’ve always yet had a soft heart and it aches for him right now.

His eyes were stinging from holding back tears yet he did not shed any. He did not speak for he did not seem weak but he has a sickness of the mind and you knew it, Geta knew it, the senate knew it and damn that monkey probably knew it as well. You just kept denying it and he does not see it.

“It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” He whispered and turned his head to break away from your hands. Leaving the cold air to touch them again. Maybe you should’ve kept that window closed.

[beloveds-embrace]

Im a spicy and dark romance reader and Im just wondering what do you think TF141s reaction would be if they found out about you reading or even read a bit of those books?

I feel like out of the four of them, Gaz and Soap would be the most into acting out the scenes you liked the most. I feel like- it’s not really Kyle’s preferred choice of books, never gave them much thought, not until he met you at least. It still wouldn’t be his first pick for himself, but he does look out for what books he thinks you’d like to read… and act out 🙂‍↕️

for Johnny, I’d say reading books for leisure generally isn’t his thing, but he is interested in you and you love reading so he just simply checks out yours only to learn you are damn freaky. 10/10 you get him into reading the same exact stuff as yours but only because he has you to reenact it live while he reads

Lowkey I’m a vanilla ghost truther 😩 okay listen that man has been through a lot of shit and suffers from a lot of shit. He (and John honestly) don’t understand the appeal. Almost didn’t believe you’d be into reading stuff like that simply because they think you are the loveliest thing they’ve ever seen and darkness and violence simply shouldn’t be near you. But you like it, and they aren’t going to say anything about it because they love you far too much <33

[writerfromshikahr]

Because I love Lucanis and Davrin in equal amounts, I have to write them on occasion.

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

Falling for Two - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic (plus 1 Davrin)

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

"Rook! Are you okay?" Lucanis shouted, his voice strained as he clung desperately to her arm. She dangled helplessly off the ledge of a tall building, her boots scraping against the wall in a frantic search for any kind of hold.

"Davrin! Help!" Lucanis barked, urgency sharpening his tone. "I can’t hold her much longer!"

Davrin scuttled over, grabbing Rook’s other arm. "AM I OKAY?" Rook snapped, her voice pitching higher with adrenaline. "I just fell off a building, Lucanis, and I’m dangling over certain death! How do you think I’m doing?"

"Noted," Lucanis grunted through clenched teeth, his arms trembling with the effort of keeping her steady. Slowly and carefully, he began pulling her up. Davrin, ever impatient, gave her a sharp tug, nearly yanking her over the edge...

The result was chaos. Rook tumbled onto the rooftop, sprawling awkwardly on top of both men in a heap of limbs and heavy breathing.

"Well, this is cozy," Davrin said, his grin spreading. "Never knew this is how you’d end up on top of me. In some weird ménage à trois with Lucanis, no less. Not hating it, though."

"Urgh," Rook groaned, scrambling to her feet and brushing herself off. "In your dreams, Warden."

Davrin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Presumptuous much? I don’t dream about you… unless you want me to?" He winked, earning himself a light slap on the arm.

Lucanis, still on the ground, stared at the sky for a moment, stunned. The woman he spent every waking moment trying not to think about had just been straddling him mere seconds ago. It took every ounce of his discipline to shove those thoughts down before they could take root.

As he and Davrin stood, brushing off the dirt, Davrin chuckled. "Nah, if anyone’s going to have nocturnal imaginations, it’s this guy." He jabbed a thumb at Lucanis, his smirk brimming with mischief.

Lucanis shot him a dark look before turning to Rook. "I don’t sleep, Davrin. Or did you forget that?"

"True," Davrin replied breezily. "But just because you don’t sleep doesn’t mean you can’t—"

"Enough," Lucanis growled, cutting him off sharply.

"Come on, boys, play nice." Rook crossed her arms, a teasing smile tugging at her lips as she tilted her head at Davrin. "‘Nocturnal imaginations.’ Those are the longest words I’ve ever heard you say in one sentence."

"And you’re welcome for it," he quipped, giving her a mock bow.

Lucanis shook his head, his gaze flicking to Rook. His eyes lingered just a second too long before he turned away. "Next time, just listen when I tell you about a drop."

"Hey," Davrin said with a shrug, "she can’t help it, Crow. She’s… challenged when it comes to all things dexterous. Not everyone’s gifted like us." His grin was devilish and infuriating.

"Gifted?" Rook shot him a look, her voice dripping with mock disbelief. "Is that what we’re calling it these days?"

Lucanis let out a low laugh at her jab, the sound rare enough to make both of them pause.

"Ouch," Davrin said, clutching his chest in mock pain. "That hurts, Rook. Truly."

"Good," she replied with a smirk, adjusting her gear. "Let’s just get moving before you both start fighting over which one of you is ‘more talented.’"

"Clearly, that would be me," Lucanis said coolly.

Davrin arched a brow, his grin widening further. "In what area, Dellamorte? Raw skill in offing blood mages? Or denial about anything regarding that lovely lady in front of us?"

Lucanis’s gaze flicked up to where Rook was crossing the next rooftop gap, this time without falling. His jaw tightened briefly, but he said nothing.

"I swear, one of these days, Davrin," Lucanis muttered darkly, "I will end you."

"Sure you will," Davrin replied breezily, his smile never faltering.

[leiascully]

Fic: palimpsest

800 words; M for sexual situations; melancholy Thanksgiving meditations and a lot of gratitude (AO3)

When Mulder moves in her, it’s like poetry. A sestina of seduction, the same gestures endlessly rearranged in pleasing new patterns. She relishes each encounter.

It’s Thanksgiving. They’re in a city. Seattle, she thinks, or Tacoma: mountains and water, hills and rain. They haven’t seen much of it. They’ve been in the hotel. She was bleaching her hair box blonde while Mulder trimmed his beard. She doesn’t always recognize herself when she sees herself in the mirror, but she always knows him.

There’s a all-hours chain diner down the street that promises a Thanksgiving dinner. It’s an IHOP, or a Denny’s maybe. It doesn’t matter. It won’t be the Thanksgiving dinner she would have had at her mother’s house. It won’t be the Thanksgiving dinner they would have had with their son. But that’s for later.

For now, the rain is falling. She left the curtains open so they can see the city lights. It isn’t home, but it feels more vital than the small towns they’ve passed through, each one an echo of the others like the rhymes in a villanelle. They’re in a hotel instead of a motel, floors above street-level. The sheets are crisp and white and the raindrops glisten on the window in strange liminal constellations. Her hair reeks of conditioner. Mulder kisses her throat. His beard scratches against her collarbone. She welcomes the friction, a delicious contrast to the soft heat of his mouth. The scrape of his beard washes pink over her scars and her stretch marks, all the signs of her life since she met him tinted in new shades.

They murmur to each other, barely audible over the patter of the rain and the susurration of the heater. It doesn’t matter; they don’t need words to communicate. He shifts against her, balance and counterbalance. His mouth and his hands trace the shape of her and she understands herself in the context of his touch. It’s a palimpsest: pleasure overwriting pain. She spreads herself wide for him and he sinks in deep. His movement is as measured as a sonnet, a rhythm as familiar as her heartbeat. He strokes her face. She kisses the ball of his thumb.

All this time later and she still feels such profound gratitude when he touches her. His tenderness seems infinite; she’s never found its bounds. She flings love into the well of him and never hears an echo. Despite everything. All those years of holding him at arm’s length and he never gave up on her. Their misunderstandings were often mutual, but she seemed to feel their cumulative effects more deeply. It made her prickly for a while, a wounded thing, but his arms were open when she was ready to walk into them.

He caresses her like a prayer. She says the rosary; he touches each knob of her vertebrae, counts the bones of her wrists and ankles. He is her miracle. He was taken from her and returned to her. He gave her the child she longed for, even if they couldn’t keep him. Mulder has vexed her and contradicted her, but he’s never failed her. She’s always had the strength of his beliefs, a force more powerful than anything she’s encountered.

She tries to convey her awe with her body. She touches him with fingertips that tremble. She opens herself for him, welcomes him, urges him on. She shows him how much she enjoys him. Her hands and her lips say the things she has no words for. He is unlike anyone she’s ever known, unlike anyone she’s ever touched. His skin under hers is a revelation. How beautifully he’s knit together: the logic of his body overwhelms her, the smooth muscle and his long beautiful bones. He is more than the sum of his parts, but the parts are so lovely, and they denied themselves this joy for so long.

What did I do to deserve this, she thinks, and only realizes she’s murmured it when he responds.

“You gave me everything,” he says. “I couldn’t offer you any less.”

Like the legend of Thanksgiving, their history is filled with half-truths and loose ends, but the beauty is in what they make of it. A holiday can have blood at the bone. A feast can be $8.99 a plate with all the trimmings. A family can be two lonely people far from home. A future can be rootless, as long as they have each other.

Here is the truth of the moment: Mulder and Scully, floating entwined above a strange city, giving thanks for each other, gasping adulation. She holds him so tightly, counting his breaths like iambic pentameter, intimacy become art. She exalts him; the lights in his eyes are stars to guide her home.

[deepspacenova]

👀👀 too good of an idea to pass up…

RAISED STAKES

Basically just 1300 words of UST

Sylus watched as his pointer finger slowly tapped a dent in the wood table.  

“And if someone notices us slip out, we’ll just tell them we needed some… privacy.” He glanced at her through his lashes. “Anything else?”

“Privacy for wh—” she stood up abruptly, feeling her cheeks flame as she listened to the suggestive drawl of his words. “Nevermind! Don’t say anything. I better get back to the Association and tell Jenna that I might’ve found a way to….”

Her last words were eclipsed by a loud clap of thunder and a cacophony of droplets hitting the windows of her flat. 

She groaned in frustration as the sheets of water sluiced down the glass like a waterfall but the scratch of Sylus’ chair legs made her turn around. 

“Well, if that’s all you need,” he started casually, “I’ll be getting back to—“

A band of dread wrapped around her lungs at the vision of him starting his half of the plan before she even got to set her half in motion.

“Oh no you don’t!” Her step toward him was so fast he sat back down, one brow arched in either confusion or amusement, she could never tell. “There’s no way I’m letting you loose to talk to those dealers before I debrief my own boss.”

“Why, I’m hurt, sweetie,” he said blandly, looking decidedly unhurt as he leaned back in his seat with one ankle over the other knee. “Don’t you trust me by now?”

It was her turn to raise a brow, except hers was undeniably, indisputably in disbelief.

She knew she’d won when he huffed, “Fine, I’ll stay until it passes.”

She slumped back into her seat and watched Sylus as he tapped away on his phone. When he noticed her staring, he tilted his head.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, reaching into the drawer by her breakfast nook for something to keep her occupied. She smiled when her fingers brushed against a familiar stack. Bringing it out, she set it on the table.

Sylus looked up at the unmistakable feline artwork. “Don’t tell me those are what I think they are.”

“Come on, you never complain when we’re at the cafe. Let’s play to pass the time,” she coaxed. “I don’t really know what games or prizes we could play for here though.”

“I can teach you a few.” Sylus smirked. “Gambling’s the last crime anyone’s worried about in the N109 Zone.”

Her eyes widened in fascination. “What do you bet on?”

Sylus shrugged. “Property, information, favors, lives – blackmail is in the eye of the beholder.”

She traced the edge of the deck with her fingertip. “Want to play?”

The corner of his mouth hitched up as if she’d surprised him. “What are we playing for then?” he asked mischievously.

“Well, I’m not giving you any information. I don’t own property. And I will not take the risk of owing you a favor.”

He tisked softly, leaning his exposed forearms on the table as one hand wrapped around hers on the deck. “Cards mean nothing without stakes, sweetie. Looks like you don’t have any bargaining power. Unless…” A streak of lightning in the sky illuminated a predatory glimmer in the scarlet irises that trailed over her. “You are the stakes?”

She pulled her hand away from the deck and gave him a dirty look, knowing exactly the type of game he was suggesting. “No.”

Sylus tilted his head. “No one will ever know.”

She watched as Sylus suddenly stretched his hands above his head, revealing a sliver of bare skin. He was baiting her, and she knew it.

“Fine, but we stop when I say to. Got it?”

He smiled wolfishly. “I’ll deal.”

She watched him take back the deck, slightly mesmerized by the movements of his fingers as he began to shuffle. He dealt the cards, two face-down for each of them, the rest of the deck face-down in the middle. “Ready to play?”

She smiled, thinking of all those times she trounced him at the cafe. “Yeah. I’m going to win.”

Sylus chuckled. “Whatever you say, kitten.”

She grinned triumphantly as she won the first round until he took off his loafers with a smirk. Her boots went the next round. She won the third round and watched him peel off his socks.

They continued playing until she started catching on to some of Sylus’ tells — licking his lips, brushing his hair out of his eyes. The moves were a little too seductive though, too practiced to fool her into believing them outright.  

She must’ve been too focused on his ulterior motives however, because she lost the next three rounds, discarding her jacket, socks, and belt. She frowned as she wondered when her earlier winning streak had worn off.

Sylus, who wasn’t wearing a jacket, lost the next round and lifted his shirt over his head. She inhaled sharply and the twitch of his right cheek along with the smug expression on his face only made her more suspicious of his “loss.”

A gravelly drawl. “Too much for you?”

Ignoring the flutter of wings bumping the inside of her ribcage, she narrowed her eyes, her resolve back in place. “Deal the cards.”

He flipped them onto the table and watched her carefully the whole round. She bit her lip and put down her best card, a purple three. 

But as his mouth curled into a devious grin and he placed a green four onto the table, she knew she was done for. 

She tried to swallow past the growing balloon in her throat and stared at him in surprise. 

“You don’t have to—“ She must’ve looked more terrified than surprised because the leader of Onychinus was taking pity on her like she was some sort of helpless creature. It only made her more determined to shut him up. 

Without glancing away from him she ripped her shirt over her head in one quick motion.

Sylus stared — his mouth still half-open — at the new skin exposed to his gaze. Shock, intensity, and… greed overtook his expression.

She picked up the cards, determined not to lose the next round. And she didn’t.

Sylus, who hadn’t so much as looked at what he’d been dealt since he’d picked them up finally glanced at the two cards in his hand.

“Well played, kitten,” he murmured as he stood up and shoved his trousers down his legs.

The distraction must’ve been infecting her too with how quickly she’d forgotten that her wins were double-edged.

She gripped the edge of the table. Only his underwear remained, and they were flimsy enough to show the outline of his—

“Are you ready?” Sylus interrupted her train of thought.

She nodded and he dealt the cards. 

She played her card. Pink three. He played his. Green five.

She scowled and debated whether to take off her bra or her trousers. She decided on her bra, much to Sylus’ delight. It didn’t really matter because she lost the next round, too.

She discarded her trousers and sat back down nervously. Both of them were in only their underwear.

“This is the last hand, sweetie” Sylus said as he dealt the cards. “One of us is going to be naked by the end of it.” He smiled wickedly.

She peeked at her cards and tried not to look too excited. Two fives.

He gestured with an upturned palm. “Alright, let’s see it.”

She raised her eyebrows as she played one of the fives.

“Ten. Pretty good.” Sylus played his card. “But not good enough.”

Twelve. 

“Looks like I won.” Sylus seemed all too pleased with himself.

She pressed her thighs together, and the smile dropped off his face as he watched her heaving chest. She shivered.

The rain almost drowned out the pounding in her ears as she stood and walked toward where he was seated. Nudging his knees apart and never breaking eye contact as she stood between them, she hooked her fingers in the sides of the lace around her hips and slid them down her legs.

Sylus inhaled as they stared at each other. He reached up and ran the pads of his fingers down her body, starting at the base of her throat and ending just below her navel as if he were branding his fingerprints into her torso.

“Kitten, we really need to work on your poker face.”

Kitty cards with the LADS but every round anyone loses, they have to remove an item of clothing 👀

[crossbackpoke-check]

Looks like that video is about a month & a half after The Trade and trevors broken ankle 😣

re: this video… anon 😭 i had suspicions but it is so much worse to have them confirmed that really was like. trevor’s first Public Appearance without jamie AND post-broken ankle which is traumatic in and of itself no wonder every beat reporter was like ‘oh yeah trevor’s just devastated’

wouldn’t you be miserable too if your best friend just got traded and your body betrayed you and what if it was maybe all your fault!!!

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya might stress tf out of Luc whenever he pops by the Angels Share, but lbr Luc gets him back tenfold whenever they’d cooperate on missions bc Luc will NOT hesitate to fucken Leroy Jenkins and practically make Kae go grey early in the process-

[cute-little-crow]

You’re in a particular mood whilst in the midst of intimate shenanigans and it’s about to get you in a whole heap of trouble. Or when you ask them…

“Is it in yet?”

feat: Rafayel, Sylus, Xavier & Zayne (separately)

tw: female reader, brat behaviour, regretting decisions, smut smut and more smut, edging, overstimulation, temp play, light bondage (held bodily), all the boys bringing out their Dom sides to varying degrees, spanking, oral fixation, creampies, hair pulling, phew sorry if I missed something

“Excuse me?”

“What? It was an innocent question,” you huffed, biting your lip and glancing towards the ceiling light over his shoulder.

You could feel the hard length of Rafayel’s cock twitch within your walls, his hand, splayed wide at your hip, tensed until his fingertips pressed harder into the soft yield of your skin.

The urge to squirm was growing more intense, but then he would know. He would know you were goading him. Hell, he probably already knew given the narrow of his violet hued eyes and the crease forming between his eyebrows.

When he didn’t speak, didn’t move, barely drew breath, you piped up once more—pushing your luck too far.

“All I asked was if it was in yet. What’s the problem, Raf?”

Rafayel hissed.

The unnatural noise made you jump, a pathetic moan tumbling from your lips when the jerking motion nudged the tip of his cock against your swollen pleasure spot.

“Brat…” he seethed, pulling out of you and leaning back to spread your thighs wide apart. “And to think I was being so nice to you. Clearly, you don’t want nice.”

His long fingers splayed out on your sensitive inner thighs, holding you down on the bed with your cunt gaping and flexing from where he had just been buried. Arousal dripped along your slit until it dribbled to the sheets below.

You reached from him, squalling from the sudden empty feeling but he pushed away your hand and gave a stern shake of his head.

“Rafay—”

“Hush. Don’t speak. Let’s see how long you can last, hm?”

Gripping the base of his cock, he spread his knees wider so he was closer to you once more. The fat tip leaked with precum which he smeared around your entrance before pushing into you, but stopping when the tip disappeared.

It felt delicious and your skin warmed all over from the sensation. You keened, attempting to roll your hips upward only to be stopped by a firm grip.

“Oh? You feel it now… shame.”

Frowning, you licked over your suddenly parched lips.

Rafayel was pissed.

It turned you on to see him darken; from the colours swirling in his eyes to the shadow falling over his face to his entire demeanour growing sterner, everything more angular and sharp.

Again he withdrew and let his cockhead slap against your puffy clit, far from gentle. Your nerve endings were on fire, sweat gathering on your hairline.

Over and over Rafayel repeated the process. He gave you only ever an inch and never for long enough. Your stomach was in knots from the treatment, the continued smacking of your swollen pearl which he would reach down and tweak every now and again, stopping when he knew you were getting close.

“Please…” you begged, broken and near tears. “I need to feel all of you. ‘want your cock.”

“What’s that, cutie? I didn’t think you could feel anything… and now you want it all? Brats don’t get treats, they get tricks so hush until I’m ready.”

Rafayel edged you for the next hour; giving you enough stimulation to keep you tense and desperate but never enough to satisfy your needs.

It would be quite some time until you decided to be sassy with the Lemurian again.

Sylus paused.

His mouth pulled back from your neck, steady breaths tickling your skin and emphasising the bruises blooming to life.

“I’m sorry, I think I must have misheard you. What did you say, sweetie?”

You were regretting your moment of madness already, heart pounding so harshly in your chest that it just might beat right out. Funnily enough, your voice disappeared into nothing but a strand of whimpered syllables.

He clicked his tongue in dismay, and cupped your chin firmly to bring your focus to his face. You couldn’t run from the piercing intensity of his vermillion eyes, nor from the hold on your jaw that tightened until you were close to squeaking out.

“Nothing, I’m sorry—”

“No, no. You should repeat what you asked me, kitten. Something about ‘is it in yet?’, no?” His voice was a deadly calm whisper and that was so much worse than an overly emotional reaction.

Sylus thrust harshly into you when your mouth flapped open and closed like a fish out of water, your stomach clenched and your legs wrapped more tightly around his waist.

“Seems like you can feel me just fine… so why deny it? Does the kitten want to brat me tonight? Tsk tsk. Bad kitty.”

He peeled away your legs from his sides carefully, thumbs digging into the backs of your knees whilst he adjusted your body beneath him. You went from being intimately close to having your knees digging into your chest and your ankles by your ears.

The adjustment allowed him to sink deeper into you, knocking the air from your lungs. Sylus loomed over your folded body with one stretched hand holding your ankles. It was enough to keep you in the position he desired, enough that every forward momentum felt like you might burst all over him.

“I can’t hear you, sweetie.”

You squealed and squirmed. Your eyes rolled over to the back of your head. You wet his cock so thoroughly that slick dripped from his balls, only emphasising the smacking sound when they impacted heavily against your backside.

Over and over he drove you through orgasm after orgasm. Sylus wrung you like an overly used towel and listened to you sing his name along with the best attempts at apologies you could muster. Every sound was desperation incarnate and he let out an amused huff that gave way to a guttural groan signalling his own release.

“Sylus… oh fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Instead of releasing your trembling legs, the cunning man above you ran his fingers around the base of his cock, coating them in the mixed essence of you both which had managed to escape.

The digits came away creamy, shiny and debauched. With a wolfish grin, he pushed them into your mouth to silence your continued pleas for mercy. Your tongue flattened against roughened pads, the tang lighting up your taste buds and saliva rushed to meet them.

“I heard you, but bad kitties need to be reminded of their manners. Now then, suck my fingers cleans so I can fill you with another load. I need to make sure you really feel it after all…”

Sylus made you pay for your sass over and over that night…

“… did I? Did I hear you right?”

“Did I stutter? I said… is it in yet, Xav?” You asked churlishly. His cerulean eyes swam like oceans in front of your face, a fleeting look of hurt passing over his features and that was enough to deflate most of your bravado.

“Wait, baby, I’m sorry. You don’t deserve—”

Xavier cut you off with a move you could only describe as pro wrestling adjacent.

One moment he was cradled by the comfort of your body and the next, he was rolling you over onto your stomach and straddling your thighs. His hand traced the curve of your spine, pressing your chest deep into the plush mattress and ending by winding around your hair.

“No, baby. You don’t deserve to be given half-assed dick. Let me make up for my failings,” he rasped into your ear, leaning over you whilst his slick cock rocked between the cleft of your ass.

He tugged on the makeshift ponytail he’d made, drawing your head up at the same time the rest of you was crushed into the sheets, your hands trapped beneath your stomach—useless.

“Spread your legs—that’s it—I see you’re not completely off the rails tonight.”

Xavier worked himself through the gap of your thighs, the blunt head of him butting up against your clit and drawing little gasping hisses from you. His fingers tightened in your hair, and you squirmed, futile beneath his weight.

When he finally notched at your fluttering hole, you were holding your breath so hard you could hear the blood flowing in your ears. His hips descended, dropping himself flush along your body at the same moment he fucked into you.

“Shit!! Xav! Oh god…”

Xavier chuckled nasally, a hungry mouth clamping over the beating pulse in your neck. He set a harsh pace immediately, fucking you prone bone.

You could do absolutely nothing but take every hit. His cock moulding your pussy to fit him and him alone. The angle had him rutting right up near your cervix, so close to flashes of pain but measured enough to stop before he could inflict any actual damage.

He huffed into the crook of your neck, biting and licking over the hurt with shallow breathing that mimicked your own. Xavier was relentless and you had never seen him quite like this.

“So tight, princess. You feel me now? Tell me. Do you feel me in your belly? Gonna spill any minute,” he admitted with a heavy grunt punctuating the words.

In your belly? You could feel him in your damn throat with how deep he was hitting and all you could do was squeal. The sound heightened into a high pitch shriek only animals would hear when he shifted himself to deliver a hearty smack to your backside.

“C’mon… tell me. Is it in now? Is my cock deep enough? The cream you’re leaking tells me yes but I want to hear it from you.”

“Yes! Xavier, yes!”

Never again would you make that same mistake. Who knew your star boy had it in him?

At first, you weren’t sure if he had heard you. Zayne was frozen above, hands pressed to either side of your head and his eyes fixedly shut.

You were about to repeat your attempt at being a brat just to see how the good doctor would react when he blinked open his eyes and your jaw snapped shut.

The frown deepening his brow seemed genuinely startled and he raised a hand to feel your forehead like he was assessing you for a medical condition.

“You don’t feel feverish… perhaps some neurological condition has manifested,” he muttered almost to himself.

“Zayne—don’t be silly. All I asked was if it was in yet?”

He hummed—thoughtfully. “Yes. I heard you, but I can’t quite correlate the words with the sentiment because I know you can feel me.”

“Oh, you do, huh? Sound pretty full of yourself, Dr Zayne.”

As if for emphasis, he pumped himself into you with a snap of his hips. It resulted exactly as he wanted, with your breathless gasp and your head flying back against the pillows.

“You were saying?” He asked coolly. “Perhaps I should check your reactions to other stimuli, just to be sure…”

“What does that—oh!”

Ice veiled the tips of his fingers, careful blue veins creating intricate patterns. Zayne sat back on his haunches, cock still plugged into your clenching cunt, and traced those frozen digits down the column of your throat and towards your breasts.

“Cold! Cold! Stop that,” you yelped, swatting at his hand which diligently refused to be dissuaded.

Only the very corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, his smart, ever assessing eyes watching intently whilst he circled your puffy nipples and they stiffened further from the cold.

“You seem to react to low temperatures within normal ranges, how about warm temperatures,” he mused absently.

Without further warning, his head dipped and his tongue brushed your pert nipple. Zayne’s lips surrounded the bud and suckled with enthusiasm. The instant heat of his mouth bowed your spine and raised your ass so you were grinding yourself shamelessly against Zayne’s front.

“Zayne… fuck.”

The friction elicited from the coarse thatch of neatly trimmed hair at his pelvis caused you to mewl and whine. Your fingers carded through his dark hair and all rational thought flew from your mind.

Just as you were getting used to the hot sensation of your nipple being sucked and pinched by careful teeth, he switched. Ice enveloped the swollen skin, a burn gnawed at your gut but it was a pleasant one.

Zayne continued to tweak at your nipples in turn, cooling them down and warming them up with his tongue, all whilst he maintained a steady pace within you. His cock throbbed and your walls spasmed.

“My diagnosis,” he said quite suddenly, mouth breaking from your breasts with a shallow pant, “is that of brattitude. Quite a severe case too…”

You groaned aloud, eyes cast heavenward at the near orgasm that was close to cresting over you like a playful wave.

“Treatment begins now. I’ll make sure you continue to feel me all night long.”

The good doctor was true to his word, and come morning, the only thing you couldn’t feel were your legs.

[stunie]

i just WOKE UP !!?????!!!!!!

2024.07.15 — dinner date with Ume. ♡

(hands up if you know where the reference photo’s froooommmmm!!!! >:3 aju nice.)