#from december 7th

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Jack: Father, it is very awkward being taller than you!

Solar: *licking and grooming Jack*

Jack: Father, your tongue is very rough! It is stripping my sealant!

Solar: *bites Jack’s arm*

Jack: Father, you are abusive.

[bryan360]

(Link Here)

Neat job you’ve did, pal. Going through this ref sheet while in a her different attire sure takes the cake; at least in my opinion of saying. 🙂👍

[satocidal]

Fuck my life because 😃😃😃

[a-high-femme]

rant in tags bc I want to sob into a pillow

[houseofwolvess]

WOOO I FINALLY SNAGGED AN APPOINTMENT TO GET MY ID

[leona-hawthorne]

LEONA-HAWTHORNE’S FICMAS

december 7th. mattheo riddle — love potion.

mattheo riddle x reader

summary ; when he’s all over you after a love potion gone wrong… aka pussydrunk!mattheo words ; 3.3k warnings ; smut, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, kissing, nipple sucking, swearing

navigation ficmas masterlist

You barely registered the weight of him collapsing onto the worn leather couch beside you before his hands were reaching for yours, clumsy and sure all at once. His curls were wild, his tie hanging loose around his neck, and his eyes—merlin, his eyes—were soft and unfocused, tracing your face like he was committing every detail to memory.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, his voice thick and honey-slow, like the words had been dipped in sugar. His nose brushed the side of your neck as he leaned in closer, the faint scent of chocolate and cedar lingering on his skin. “Like… I don’t even know. Just you.”

You froze, heat flooding your cheeks as you tried to process what the hell was happening. “Mattheo, are you drunk?”

He pulled back slightly, blinking at you with an almost childlike confusion, his lips curving into a crooked grin. “Not drunk,” he whispered. “Just…completely, utterly—” He sighed dreamily, his head falling against your shoulder. “Gone for you.”

Your book slipped from your lap, thudding against the floor, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You stared down at him, utterly bewildered, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck with a contented hum.

This was not normal. Mattheo didn’t do dreamy or loopy or any of this. He was sharp edges and biting sarcasm, a bundle of contradictions wrapped in leather and cigarette smoke. And yet, here he was, clinging to you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

It wasn’t until his fingers began absentmindedly tracing patterns on your knee that the pieces clicked into place.

It started two days ago, in Slughorn’s Potions class. Extra credit was practically a lifeline for you, so when he’d offered it for creating “innovative applications of potion theory,” you’d jumped at the chance. The result? A batch of chocolate truffles laced with a mild love potion—just strong enough to evoke fondness and infatuation in the eater. Slughorn had been delighted, declaring your concoction “a stroke of brilliance.” 

But the love potion had a catch: it required a strand of DNA from the intended target to work. In this case, your own hair had made its way into the mix.

You’d left the chocolates on Slughorn’s desk after class, only to find them gone by the next morning. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it. But now…

“Mattheo,” you said slowly, trying to untangle yourself from his grip. “Did you eat any chocolate recently?”

He looked up at you, his brown eyes shining with unrestrained affection. “Mmm, yeah. Some girl gave them to me. Said they were a gift.”

Of course. Of bloody course.

You sighed, gently prying his hands off you as he pouted. “Mattheo, those weren’t for you. They were part of an assignment, and—”

“Doesn’t matter,” he interrupted, his voice a low murmur. His hand found yours again, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

Your heart did an embarrassing little flip at the sincerity in his voice, but you shoved it aside. This wasn’t real—it couldn’t be. It was just the potion talking.

“Mattheo, listen to me,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “This isn’t you. It’s the potion. It’ll wear off in a few hours, and then you’ll—”

“No,” he said softly, cutting you off again. “It’s not just the potion.”

Your breath caught. “What?”

His hand slid down to rest just below the hem of your skirt, and his face inched closer, his lips brushing your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, the words tumbling from his lips as though they’d been locked in his chest, yearning to escape. His voice was low, reverent, thick with desire. “I—I’ve always wanted… this.”  

Before you could respond, his mouth claimed yours in a searing kiss, urgent and consuming, like a man starving for his first taste of salvation. His lips moved against yours with fervent precision, soft yet commanding, coaxing a needy whimper from deep in your throat.  

You melted into him, your arms curling around his neck as he deepened the kiss. His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling with yours in a sensual, desperate dance that left you breathless. When he nipped at your lower lip, the sting was fleeting, soothed instantly by a gentle, teasing lick before he plunged back into the kiss.  

His hands roamed over you, slow yet deliberate, mapping every curve with a reverence that made your heart race. Fingers glided down the line of your spine, dipping beneath your shirt to stroke the bare skin at the small of your back. His touch was electric, each graze igniting sparks that radiated through your body. When his hands slid lower, palming your hips, you gasped softly, arching into him instinctively.  

The kiss broke only for his lips to blaze a trail down your neck, nibbling and sucking at the delicate skin there, leaving behind faint marks that bloomed like fire beneath his touch. He moved to your jaw, his mouth brushing over the sensitive ridge with maddening gentleness, only to return to the hollow of your throat, where he lingered, his warm breath sending shivers through you.  

As his hands slipped beneath your shirt, pushing it upward with quiet urgency, the soft swells of your breasts were bared to his smoldering gaze. He paused, drinking in the sight with an expression so raw and unguarded it made your knees weak.  

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” he muttered hoarsely before diving in. His lips closed around one hardened peak, his tongue swirling in slow circles as he suckled. A soft moan escaped you, your back arching into him as your fingers found their way into his curls, tugging gently.  

His free hand cupped your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive underside before teasing the nipple, his touch so light and precise it sent jolts of pleasure racing through you.

“Mattheo…” you breathed, your voice trembling, thick with desire. His name was a plea, a confession, a surrender. You could feel the press of his body against yours—the hard, unyielding planes of his chest and abdomen in stark, tantalizing contrast to the softness of your curves.  

He released your nipple with a wet pop, his dark eyes locking onto yours as he shifted to lavish the same attention on the other side. You bit your lip, desperate to stifle the moan threatening to spill from you as your hips instinctively rocked against him, seeking relief from the mounting ache between your thighs.  

When his lips finally left your skin, you felt bereft, aching for the contact he had so willingly given. Driven by need, you tried to climb into his lap, but Mattheo’s hands stopped you, firm but gentle, one resting on your hip, the other cradling your cheek.  

“Wait,” he murmured, his voice thick, rough with restraint. “Let me…”  

With that, he sank to his knees before you, his hands sliding up your thighs with agonizing slowness, brushing the hem of your skirt higher until his thumbs grazed the waistband of your panties. His gaze burned into you, his voice low and rasping when he spoke. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he said, his warm breath fanning over your skin. “I’m yours to command.”  

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a jolt of heat pooling low in your belly. Your fingers found his curls again, tugging lightly, guiding him closer as a teasing smile curved your lips.  

“Took you long enough to realize that,” you teased, your voice soft, edged with playful defiance.  

Mattheo chuckled, a low, wicked sound that vibrated against your inner thigh. “Patience has never been my virtue,” he admitted, his words muffled against your skin as he peppered slow, lingering kisses along your thighs.  

His face nuzzled against you, his nose brushing the dampened fabric of your underwear as he inhaled deeply, savoring you. Then his tongue flattened against the cloth, dragging torturously slowly over the heat of you, the thin barrier between you doing nothing to muffle the sensation.  

“Fuck,” you whispered, hips tilting forward in silent, desperate encouragement.  

Mattheo obliged, his lips closing over you as he sucked gently at your puffy lips through the fabric. Then he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties, dragging the thin fabric down your legs in a torturously slow motion that made your pulse race.  

Once you were completely bare before him, his hungry gaze roamed over your glistening folds, before he spread you open with two fingers, exposing your slick, swollen flesh. He leaned in, dragging his tongue along your slit in a slow, languid stroke that tore a whimper from your lips.  

“Fuck,” he murmured against your trembling skin, his voice thick and husky. “You taste even better than I imagined.”  

He didn’t wait for a response, diving back in with reckless abandon. His tongue circled your clit with maddening precision, alternating between feather-light flicks and firm, deliberate pressure that had you gasping his name like a prayer.  

“Mattheo… oh gods…” you choked out, your fingers tangling in his curls, tugging sharply as he worked you into a frenzy. His hands gripped your thighs, his strong fingers sinking into the supple flesh as he maneuvered your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growled between kisses, his breath hot against your drenched core. “Such a sweet little cunt.”  

His tongue plunged into you without warning, fucking your tight, clenching heat in a rhythm that matched the frantic pounding of your heart.  

“Faster… please,” you begged, your voice a broken plea as you ground your hips against his face, chasing the release that loomed just out of reach.  

Mattheo growled his approval, his hands tightening on your thighs as he obeyed, doubling his efforts. His tongue moved with punishing speed, thrusting in and out of your dripping heat while his nose brushed against your swollen clit, each movement pushing you closer to the precipice.  

When his lips closed around your clit with brutal intensity, the coil inside you snapped. Your orgasm ripped through you like a violent storm, shattering you into a million pieces as your body convulsed in pure ecstasy. 

Mattheo didn’t stop. Even as you trembled and bucked against him, he continued his assault, his mouth and tongue relentless as they dragged every last aftershock from your trembling body. His lips and chin were drenched in your essence, and the musky, heady scent of your arousal seemed to drive him into a frenzy.  

He angled his head, delving deeper with his tongue, his strokes long and firm as if determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from you. His grip on your thighs tightened, the bruising pressure grounding you as your body jerked and twitched uncontrollably.  

You let out a choked sob, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as the overwhelming sensations pushed you further. It was too much, yet somehow not enough—everything you needed, all at once, leaving you raw and undone beneath his unrelenting touch.  

“Can’t get enough of you,” he rasped, his voice muffled and rough.

The world blurred around the edges, your vision hazy and your body trembling uncontrollably. All that existed was Mattheo—his mouth, his hands, and the electric firestorm of sensation he’d ignited in you.  

Mattheo groaned deeply, the sound reverberating against your sensitive flesh and sending another jolt of pleasure through your overstimulated body.  His fingers dug into the plush flesh of your inner thighs, spreading you even wider, holding you open for his devouring mouth. His tongue curled around your swollen bud, flicking and sucking with a desperate intensity, while his other hand slid lower. Two fingers pressed against your entrance, teasing for the briefest moment before plunging into you to the knuckle.  

The stretch was delicious, a perfect complement to the maddening rhythm of his mouth. Your moans spilled freely, loud and desperate, your voice cracking as you gasped for air. “Fuck! Please, I can’t—” you wailed, trying to close your thighs, your hands tugging weakly at his head in a futile attempt to create distance.  

Mattheo growled against your core, his grip unyielding as he anchored you in place. “Oh, yes, you can,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust and determination, his breath hot against your drenched folds. “And you will.”  

Lost in the intoxicating taste of you, he buried himself even deeper, his fingers curling upward, dragging against your inner walls in a way that made your entire body quake.  

“Mattheo!” you whined, your voice hoarse as the pressure built rapidly, coiling impossibly tight in your belly. He felt the way your walls clenched around his fingers, the desperate flutter signaling your impending release, and he doubled down.  

The dual stimulation proved too much to withstand. Your climax hit you like a lightning strike, blinding and all-consuming, your pussy gripping his fingers with an almost punishing force.

Mattheo groaned again, savoring every shudder, every broken whimper that spilled from your lips. He drank you in like a man starved, his tongue lapping up your release as though it were a precious elixir. His own cock throbbed painfully against the rough confines of his jeans, the ache only spurring him to continue.  

Even as your orgasm began to ebb, Mattheo didn’t relent. His fingers kept pumping into your fluttering heat, coaxing out every last ripple of pleasure while his lips sealed around your clit. He suckled greedily, tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles that had your oversensitive body twitching uncontrollably.  

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered against your soaked skin, his voice ragged but reverent. He didn’t care that his breath came in short, uneven pants; the sheer need to taste more of you consumed him.  

Your hands clutched weakly at his hair, trying to tug him away, but Mattheo was lost to the haze of lust and obsession. He couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop, not until you were utterly spent, until your body was reduced to a limp, satisfied puddle beneath him.  

He drove his fingers deeper, angling them to hit that sensitive spot inside you that made your legs jerk and your cries escalate into desperate, breathless sobs.

“Mattheo… too much…” you gasped, your voice trembling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you teetered on the edge of unbearable pleasure.  

He merely hummed in response, the vibrations dragging you into another devastating high. Your release hit with even greater intensity, your body wracked with shuddering spasms as he milked you of every last ounce of bliss.  

Even then, Mattheo didn’t let up. He licked and sucked at your oversensitive flesh, devouring you with single-minded determination, his face and chin slick with your arousal.

His face was a picture of unrestrained lust and satisfaction, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a wicked gleam. “I’m not done with you yet,” he said, his voice dripping with promise, his lips curling into a sinful smirk as he leaned in for more.  

Your body felt utterly boneless, every nerve alight and trembling as Mattheo continued his merciless assault. Pleasure and exhaustion warred within you, your mind a haze as you struggled to grasp the sheer force of your release. He’d unraveled you completely, pulling sensations from depths you hadn’t known existed.  

Tears streaked your flushed cheeks, your hips rolling involuntarily, a primal search for friction despite the screaming protest of your muscles.  

"Mattheo... I can't," you choked out, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper, trembling with raw vulnerability. But he didn’t stop—he didn’t even falter.  

“Can’t stop,” Mattheo growled, his voice guttural, almost feral, as his tongue flicked over your swollen clit. “You’re too fuckin’ sweet. I’m not done. Just give me one more.”

“Please,” you whimpered, though your body betrayed you, arching into his mouth as his lips sealed around your sensitive bud once more.

His movements became messy, wild, every lick and suck driven by pure, unrestrained hunger. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working against your soaked sex filled the air, mingling with the raw cries spilling from your lips.  

His free hand slid upward, cupping your breast through your clothes, kneading it with rough, possessive squeezes that bordered on desperation.

The ache in his jeans was unbearable now, pre-cum soaking the denim as his cock throbbed with every moan, every tremor of your body beneath him. Yet Mattheo didn’t stop to ease his own suffering—he was consumed by you, intoxicated by the heady scent of your arousal and the way your body responded to him.  

“Mattheo,” you sobbed, nails tearing into the cushion beneath you as you fought to anchor yourself. But there was no escape from the storm he’d unleashed.  

The tension inside you snapped violently, and your fourth orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave, stealing the very air from your lungs. Your back arched off the couch, lips parted in a silent scream as pleasure consumed you utterly.   

When he finally pulled away, your body slumped against the cushions, utterly spent and quivering. His chest heaved as he looked down at you, his lips and chin glistening with evidence of his unrelenting hunger.  

A string of saliva clung to his swollen lips, connecting them to your slick folds as he licked his mouth clean with a satisfied hum. His dark, fevered gaze roamed your form, taking in the sight of your flushed skin, tear-streaked cheeks, and trembling thighs.  

Mattheo looked utterly primal, his expression a perfect blend of satisfaction and raw, unbridled desire. But as his eyes dipped to the insistent bulge straining against his jeans, it was clear your night was far from over. 

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind @revesephemeres @esmerai-artemis @clar2aa @iamaconfusedpan

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[kurooh]

WORLD CLASS SINNER ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso fucking you nasty.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, car sex, creampies, overstimulation, crying, spanking, slight public sex, mirror sex, spit, hair pulling, freaky shit, motorcycle sex, riding (multiple things), filming, squirting, cunnilingus. | 4.7K words

xoxo, juno. happy belated birthday to satoru <3

GOJO SATORU.

“for the record, i love you,” satoru pecks a kiss to your cheek and his lips smack, “it is december 7th and ‘m getting my gift early.”

“it is not early!” you protest, snatching the phone from him and wiggling over to the side so you can mount it on the tall dresser. the camera app is open, overlooking the bed and ready to record satoru’s birthday celebration this year. bits of dry frosting color the corners of his lips, serving as the evidence of the cake you made him yourself.

“uh, no need to move so much,” satoru exhales coolly, hands finding purchase on your hips, “you said we’d take it slow, didn’t ya?”

“that was then,” you purr, voice low and sultry, “and this is now. unless . . you actually want me to?”

he shakes his head immediately, cheeks flushing a rosy pink while he pouts his lips. satoru sneaks a glance downwards, diamond eyes feeling a little wet at the sight — you’re sitting on his cock, with your cunt squeezing just above the creamy ring at his base.

“i thought so, ‘toru,” you giggle, blowing a kiss in the direction of the camera. it’ll surely add to the excitement when he’s watching this by himself some time along — after all, nothing else can get him off. your hands splay out on his chest, nails grazing his skin lightly.

“anyway, i’ve just been thinking . . and you’ve been such a good boy this year. i ought to spoil you for your birthday, hm?”

“what did you just call me?” satoru sputters, biting back a laugh although his voice trembles. “did you just say—”

the words die on his tongue immediately. your expression twists into one of pure bliss as you start to rock your hips into him, setting up a decent pace that has you crying out in delight. of course, he has no choice but to join you, his head tipping back while his eyes trace your features. god, you feel good — so tight, so hot, and oh so perfect. but sex feels even better because he’s pleasing you; seeing you falling apart on his cock all because of him will always get him going.

“shit, baby,” satoru gasps, groaning loudly when your fingers tangle in his snowy hair, “faster, please.”

you nod frantically, lifting yourself up and slamming back down on his cock so hard it’s like you’re being split open in the best way possible. out of habit, your fingers wander to your clit, and he pushes them away the moment he sees.

“no, don’t,” he replaces your fingers with his own and lets his free hand settle at the small of your back for support, “let me do it, babe.”

“toru,” you whimper as he flicks the sensitive bud around, “y-you always make me feel so good.”

“‘course i do, sweetheart,” he grunts, starting to jerk his hips upward. each deep thrust pushes his cock into places only he can touch, and your mouth falls open, face crumbling. “here, jus’ arch your back a little—yeah, you got it.”

satoru’s voice wavers as he tells you what to do, setting up a new position and angle for him to fuck into you at. beads of sweat roll down his temples while his chest heaves in exertion, the best kind — he’s never truly gotten tired when he’s fucking you. not only does he have the stamina of a wild stallion, but really, how could he get tired when you’re looking like an angel above him, crying out his name in a voice that’s a harmony if he’s ever heard one.

“so fuckin’ beautiful,” satoru grits out, eyes regretfully squeezing shut for a moment, “god, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep squeezin’ like that.”

curses and sobs of euphoria fall from your lips. as the seconds pass, you’re only getting more intoxicated by the heat between you. misty tears make your eyes shine, and arousal pools deep in your stomach, growing more pronounced with each shove of his cock into your sweet spot. your legs are trembling on either side of him, and your tummy’s slightly more rounded than usual—satoru’s cock is in your guts.

he feels you start to tense up, notices a few stray tears falling down your cheeks. this is it. “l-look at me, baby,” satoru pleads, as if he’ll die without it, “look at me when you cum.”

it’s perfect — you look directly into his eyes, and the camera captures your orgasm perfectly. your cunt flutters and spasms around his cock, and you’re shaking so hard you fall on top of him, flinching away from his insistent fingers. it takes everything he has to hold the urge to cum back, but he manages to pull it off, not even spilling a drop.

“toru,” you mumble into his chest, shivering as he strokes away the sweat on your back, “why didnt you—?”

“savin’ it,” he breathes, teeth sinking into his lower lip in an attempt to try and ignore the way your walls are flexing around him. “hmph. as the birthday boy, i expect you to blow another candle for me.”

your head lifts immediately and you shoot him a glare, eyes narrowed in faux annoyance. “you did not just say that.”

“careful, careful,” he hisses, hands flying to your hips, “don’t wanna accidentally cum right now.”

“right, but you’ll never push me off,” you challenge him, playfully wiggling against his pelvis.

“that is not fair!” satoru whines, looking ridiculous with the dried blue frosting at the corners of his lips. “don’t torture me, pleaseee.”

GETO SUGURU.

“keep your eyes open, sweetheart.”

“‘m sorry, sugu, i just—”

his hand comes down hard against your ass, and the crack of the slap reverberates through the room. you shudder, blearily opening your eyes and looking into the mirror.

behind you, suguru’s flipping a bit of his dark hair over his shoulder and out of the way while holding onto your waist to keep you steady. you can see how pathetic you look in your reflection — drool freely slips from your mouth and you look completely dazed, all sweaty and tired while hearts spin in your eyes.

“hm, that’s more like it. want you to watch yourself, honey.”

you nod, eyes tracing the edges of your thighs and ridges of his abs in the reflection. suguru’s got you on your hands and knees, making you look fucked out and fucked up.

“s-sugu, i wanna touch my clit—it’s not enough.”

he raises a dark brow, eyes narrowing as you slip a hand between your thighs and find your clit with your fingers. now, he settles his hands at your hips, lifting you up slightly to pound into you at a new angle.

“alright. only if you don’t fall over, sweetheart.”

what a bastard. of course he has to set you up with an impossible condition like that — the new placement of his hands is the first sign of your literal downfall. suguru closely observes your reflection in the mirror before his own: you’re covered in bite marks and hickeys, with a sheen of sweat all over your body, which makes your skin look sticky. your tits swing, building momentum each time he slams into you.

beneath the sound of ass clapping, suguru can hear your pathetic, fucked out cries—this is the result of too many orgasms and being an annoying brat to him all day. his blood boils with both frustration and arousal when he recalls a particular memory, so he reaches forward, gathering your hair into one hand before pulling you backwards. messing around with your hair is something that holds a special place in his heart; he loves it whenever you touch his hair in any way, and the same goes for yours.

“takin’ it like such a slut,” suguru croons, his dark tresses falling into his face, “but i really can’t hear you that well. thought i made myself clear when i said i want the whole apartment building to hear how well i fuck you.”

“y-yeah, you did,” you gasp, back arching beautifully, “sugu, need you to touch my clit.”

he smiles wickedly. instead of allowing yourself to fall forward, you’ve decided to give up and steady yourself at the expense of rubbing your clit. suguru almost wants to give you a reward for that.

“not right now, honey,” he revels in the frustrated sob you let out, watching in the mirror as your face crumbles in some kind of distress. so dramatic, he thinks after mentally laughing. as if he’d leave you unsatisfied — how many times have you cum so far? “someone’s fucking greedy, hm? tell you what, sweetheart. cum without your clit ‘n i’ll eat your pussy up right after.”

it’s a good enough deal, and it only seems more enticing when he sticks his tongue out in the mirror, showing off the silver ball in the middle of it. his tongue piercing, and your favorite part of him eating you out.

“o-okay,” you agree tearfully, and he tugs you back by the hair so you’re facing him.

“tell me, tell the neighbors, who’s fucking you this good? answer me, honey.”

“you, suguru!” you moan loudly, feeling a surprising pressure building in your lower stomach, “i-it’s you, ‘s always you!”

suguru nods, letting go of your hair and slipping his hand beneath your chin rather gently. then he lifts your head and tips it back. “open that pretty mouth for me.”

you oblige immediately, going so far as to stick your tongue out for him. he spits right onto your tongue, and it tastes a little minty because of his chapstick and tea when you swallow. the gesture is an erotic expression of dominance and possession, and it’s one that has your cunt quivering around his cock. he lets you go, making eye contact with you through the mirror.

“oh, i feel you squeezing me,” he grunts, smacking your ass and groaning when your cunt automatically bears down harder. “looks like i’ll be devouring that sweet pussy of yours, honey.”

“hah, i need it,” mascara tracks darken your cheeks as fresh tears roll down, “t-think ‘m gonna cum, jus’ like you asked.”

“such a good girl for me,” he praises, egging you on by pressing his palm into your lower stomach, “my girl listens so well, doesn’t she? cum for me.”

the creaking of the bed grows louder as he pounds his cock into you harder, forcing a mixture of slick and cum to pour out from your used hole in glossy strings that stick to your thighs. he’s breathing heavily behind you, pressing into your tummy just right, and oh.

oh, you’re about to make a fucking mess.

a pitched sob tears from your throat when you cum on his cock, pussy gushing all over him and onto the bedsheets. sparkling droplets of cum race down your thighs and your entire body shakes on his cock, gripping him so tightly that neither of you can move.

“s-sugu, ‘m tired,” you gasp, stars flashing across your vision. “feeling kinda . . lightheaded.”

“you’ve gotta rest, sweetheart,” suguru laughs, and it rumbles out from the depths of his chest. he leans so far backwards his back cracks, and then he hands you an open bottle of water.

“what—what’s the record now?”

“ten in an hour,” he strokes your back with loving fingers, curling up beside you even though you’re upside down on the bed together. “let’s try to break it again in a couple hours.”

“how about tomorrow?” you suggest with a yawn.

“okay, okay. tomorrow night, my balls are shriveling up right now.”

“ew, sugu.” your nose crinkles and you scoot an inch away, too exhausted to move further.

“oh, stop it. it’s your fault anyways.”

NANAMI KENTO.

“kento—kennn,” you whine breathlessly, glossy lips parting to release a useless warning. “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, shit!”

“let me feel it, sweetheart,” kento croons, pressing his thumb particularly hard into your clit. the additional pressure has your head spinning too fast for you to even come up with a coherent thought as you orgasm with a drawn out whine on his cock for the nth time tonight. “that—that’s my good girl.”

beneath your bodies, the polished oak desk creaks dangerously, sounding far too tired for something that’s worth thousands. but kento doesn’t give one damn — he’d been stuck working overtime because of his shitty boss, who’d left him cooped up in his office, expecting his orders to be followed. the ultimatum was simple: do a ton of work or get fired.

kento had been so caught up he didn’t get the chance to call you, and the stress he’d been feeling began to ebb away once you stepped through his door with a bag of food from his favorite restaurant. one thing led to another, and soon enough the food had been abandoned somewhere and you ended up on the desk.

papers lazily drift off the desk’s surface while others are inevitably dampened by a mixture of wetness and spit, which leaks from your puffy cunt in thick trails down your skin. again and again, kento’s cock pushes even deeper, the blunt tip of it kissing your cervix rather roughly. meanwhile, his fingers toy with your swollen clit, drawing unrestrained cries from your lips while tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“ken, ‘s too much, i don’t think i can—”

“of course you can take more, angel,” kento huffs, firmly planting his hand beside your head for extra stability. the platinum of his watch glints in the light and his heavy breaths grow more ragged by the second, his chest heaving. sweaty strands of blond hair escape the gel’s hold, sticking to his slick forehead and making him look all the more ethereal above you. “i-i’m nowhere near finished with you.”

“oh god,” you whimper in realization, feeling that hot wave cresting in your tummy; it’s amplified by the rough rhythm of his cock and the attention he’s so generously lavishing your clit with. “g-god, ‘s coming . . ken, i think i’m gonna—”

a deep groan rushes out from him, all the way from the pits of his chest. hazel eyes squint as he watches your pussy push his cock out; it quivers momentarily before spraying cum all over his pelvis, and the sparkling droplets drip through his pubes, toward the shaft of his cock.

“did you just squirt, sweetheart?” kento asks curiously, heat rising to his cheeks and elsewhere.

“i think so,” you swallow nervously, too weak to sit up and look at the mess you’ve made all over him. “ken, i want you to cum inside me. stop holding it back.”

to be fair, this is probably the last time he’ll get the pleasure of fucking you on such an expensive desk. this despicable office he’s spent countless hours in is finally growing on him now that he’s got you in here like this — stripped naked and begging for his cum while making a mess of the shit all over his desk. and oh, he wishes he could see his boss’ face when he comes in demanding all of the finished work, only to be met with a sticky desk. the vision ignites an inferno in him and he guides his cock inside you, biting down on his lower lip when your greedy cunt swallows him.

“beg a little more for it, angel,” he chokes out, spreading your legs impossibly wider while drawing his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside you. “need to know just how you want it.”

you gasp sharply, back arching off the desk and causing your tits to press into his clothed, sweaty chest. “i want you to fuck me like you mean it. t-then, fill me up. please.”

you can’t even say another word before kento’s holding your hips down and plowing into you with a sudden ferocity. if he’s lucky, he can get you to squirt again and maybe this time he can get a taste—yes, this is the thought he wants to cum to.

he shudders, “i love it—ugh, fuck—when you tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

“give it to me,” you cry out, eyes fluttering shut while your legs wrap tightly around his waist, drawing him closer. “h-haven’t i earned it, ken?”

kento comes undone at your words, teeth clenching with a loud grunt as he finally spills inside you. your squeezing walls milk him for everything he has, absorbing each throb of his cock into their sticky softness. his mouth hangs open breathlessly, and he weakly pushes his hips forward before carefully landing on top of you.

wood splinters and snaps beneath you, and you both tumble to the floor atop a heap of the desk’s remains. “kento, what just happened—”

“it’s fine, honey. let’s rest for a moment before we leave.”

“you aren’t gonna clean it up? what about when you have to come in tomorrow?”

kento nuzzles his nose into your cheek with a blissful sigh. “thank you for making my last day at this job special. i’ll be quitting and moving to the other firm closer to the house.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI.

“this is what ya wanted?” with a coy chuckle, toji flattens his tongue against your slit and licks a long, languid stripe upwards. he easily finds your clit, and swirls the sensitive bud around with the tip of his tongue.

“yeah, but not the teasing—” a breathy gasp pushes past your lips when he pushes two slick fingers inside you.

“heh heh. you’ll survive a little teasin’, dollface.”

he’s so flippant with his words, so nonchalant. but his fingers are anything but lazy or uncaring as he bullies them deeper into your cunt, curling them right against that sweet spongy spot inside you. with one leg over his shoulder and the other hanging off the edge of the backseat, you’re fully spread and at his mercy.

“come onnn, toji,” he rolls his eyes when he hears you whine, tonguing at the glossy slick that covers his fingers and the skin around your hole.

“you come on, princess. just wait a second, ‘kay?”

“but i’ve been waiting,” you huff, lower lip trembling in frustration as your fingers push through the dark tufts of his hair. you can’t help but breathe a little heavier, the building anticipation becoming suffocating in the small space of the car. “all night. since we left to go hang out with shiu.”

“don’t tell me that’s why you’ve been so handsy, doll. hmph, i had to pull over so ya wouldn’t make me crash the car.”

“i wasn’t even doing—”

“that much?” toji finishes your sentence for you, the corners of his lips quirking upwards when you look at him desperately. “weren’t ya trying to get in my pants while i was going sixty?”

before you can respond, toji interrupts your train of thought by spitting right onto your clit. the glossy glob trails down his fingers and becomes extra lube for him — he wraps his lips around your clit and starts to sporadically curl his fingers. heat sears its way across your face and your back arches off the backseat, eyes briefly scanning around to make sure the road’s still empty.

it’s dark out and difficult to tell, but what does it matter? there’s no need to focus on spotting other cars, you reason.

“ah, fuck!” the expletive leaves your lips in the form of a startled mewl, a delicious reaction to toji lightly nibbling at your clit with his teeth. the gesture is playful but it drives you wild and makes your head spin, thoughts turning into mush. “toji, that—that feels really good . . ”

impatient as ever, you push his head down, forcing his face into your pussy in a greedy attempt to get more.

“ah ah,” he snaps upwards, pulling free from your grip and moving on top of you easily. you’re nose to nose and he’s speaking directly over your lips, sharing your breath. “i get to eat this pussy my way. she’s all mine, don’t forget that.”

“f-fine,” you cede with a pout, which he kisses away, feeling proud of himself.

“be a good girl ‘n maybe you can ride my face. how’s that sound, doll?”

“it sounds good,” you squeeze your eyes shut when he finally returns to his old position between your thighs, two fingers stuffing your cunt while his tongue laps at your clit as though it’s the best ice cream ever. the temperature in the car seems to spike; your body’s growing hotter and hotter with each lick or curl of his fingers.

“greedy pussy wants some more, hm?”

“h-huh?” you ask dumbly, a little zoned out.

but toji doesn’t repeat himself. instead he shows you what he said by pushing a third finger into your already crowded hole, smirking in satisfaction when you suck him in despite your verbal protests of it being ‘too much’. toji’s big, every part of him, and you always take him even though you complain — what can he say?

“a-ah, so fuckin’ full,” you slur your words, rocking your hips into his fingers to make the stretch burn a little less. “tojiii, go slow.”

“again, girl,” he huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically, “don’t tell me what to do. ‘n you’ll be just fine, this pussy was made for me.”

there’s no point in arguing, so you just let your head lazily lean back against the door. you were supposed to look around for cars, especially police cars, and you’ve given up entirely, deciding to blame your inability to search on the foggy windows.

toji scissors his fingers in and out of you mercilessly, sucking your clit roughly and groaning to express his enjoyment. the wet squelches of your cunt make your cheeks burn hot; it’s just so filthy that you don’t even know how to react. on either side of his head, your thighs tremble, squeezing around him every now and then.

“mmm, you’re so fuckin’ sweet,” he smacks his lips loudly and devours your pussy in between each word, “shouldn’t have made you wait so goddamn long, dollface.”

“i told you,” is all you can utter, hips twisting wildly into his face, “jus’ like that, keep sucking my clit—fuck, yes. ‘m so close, gonna make me cum.”

“aw, i’m gonna make you cum?” he teases you, mocking your tone in a way that has shockwaves of excitement and anger shooting straight through your body. you can’t even find it in yourself to answer, and a sudden flash of red and blue has your eyes squeezing tightly shut.

“‘m cumming, ‘m c-cumming, toji!”

instead of using his tongue on your clit, toji decides to sit back and watch your cunt spasm. to prolong your orgasm and overstimulate you, he slaps your clit a few times, chuckling each time you jerk or nearly scream happily.

“hmph, ya ougtta taste yourself,” toji pulls his fingers out of you and shoves them into your mouth, feeling his cock swell in his pants as your tongue cleans his skin. it’s even better when you moan as you do so, thoroughly enjoying the taste of your cum. “how’s that, baby? if ya can sit up without any help, i’ll let you ride my face.”

a sharp knock on the window startles you, and the bright light of an officer’s flashlight shines in through the foggy glass. without wiping his face, toji reaches into the front seat and turns on the car, then rolls down the window. the light illuminates the glossy cum all over the lower half of his face, and yet he smiles widely.

“good evenin’, officer. what can i do for ya?”

KAMO CHOSO.

“keep it s-steady, baby,” despite his words, choso’s voice shakes, slightly muffled by his helmet. “gentle on the throttle—nghhh, fuck.”

one of his gloved hands is firmly holding onto your hip, gripping hard each time your cunt squeezes around his cock. the sky is now a dark curtain of nighttime, darkness speckled with stars above. in front of you, car lights flash occasionally out on the road. street signs are caught in the bright columns of the motorcycle’s headlights, greens and yellows glinting in the white glow.

you bounce your ass back on choso’s lap, nibbling at your lower lip and allowing a whimper to slip past your teeth. his cock is buried inside you, nestled deep in your hot, sticky walls and extremely sensitive. he lightly strokes his free fingers against your clit, but not too often that it’ll be a distraction—after all, you’re driving a motorcycle.

“there’s a light up ahead,” choso points out, heatwaves crashing over him despite the cool breeze.

“i see it, cho.”

the motorcycle slows as you apply the brake, and you smoothly stop at the light. instead of remaining bent forward, you sit back onto his lap, taking in the last few inches of his cock. choso startles beneath you with a gasping moan and rolls your clit between his fingers.

“cho,” you whimper breathlessly, leaning your head into his shoulder, “gimme a kiss.”

“okay,” he whispers, leaning in slowly. the helmets clash together, but he manages to peck his lips to yours in a chaste kiss. you whine when the light turns green, sitting forward to take off again. this time, your face burns as you steady your feet, and the position allows you to bounce back on his cock with newer efficiency.

“shit,” choso gasps, bucking his hips upwards to match your rhythm, “i—hah, you’re gonna make me cum, baby.”

it’s dangerous in so many ways, but you look over your shoulder at him and he sees the heat in your eyes. it’s almost like you’re daring him to bust a nut inside you while you drive his motorcycle—god, that’s exactly what you’re doing. normally, choso doesn’t enjoy playing truth or dare, but he’ll make an exception for his girl.

with one hand on your hip, he tugs you down onto his cock and jerks himself upwards to make it a little easier for you. tears prick at the corners of your eyes like they always do whenever you take his cock — he’s stretching you out and filling you up so perfectly that it’s impossible not to become overwhelmed.

“faster, baby—t-there’s nobody on the road, you can put s’more gas into it.”

so you do, watching the needle in the speedometer increase as the motorcycle gains speed. choso moans loudly, his face flushing dark red beneath his helmet while his eyes flutter shut for a moment. “g-gonna cum, baby, tell me i can, tell me i can—”

each word grows more urgent, and his voice begins to splinter and break as he begs you for permission. his fingers carelessly toy with your clit, thumb rubbing quick circles around the bud and enticing you to cum with him. you feel dizzy, seeing stars flash across your vision each time you bounce down on his cock, not to mention the additional stimulation on your clit. something hot burns in your stomach and seems to rush throughout every limb in a way that has your body and mind going numb momentarily.

“cum in me, choso,” you sob desperately, gripping the handlebars frantically, “cum with me, cum with—oh, fuck.”

your mouth falls open in shock as you have the most explosive orgasm you’ve ever had with him; your cunt flutters around his cock, drawing him deeper as if it’s the last time you’ll be together.

choso starts to babble thoughtlessly, praises and gasps falling from his lips like the words of a prayer. “yeah, ‘m cumming—ngh, i l-love you, god you’re jus’ so perfect.”

he finally spills inside you, spraying white hot cum so deep it’ll take hours to drip out. the motorcycle wavers, lurching forward toward the next set of lights. beneath the helmets, you’re both panting, coming down from your highs and trying to focus even though you’re feeling a euphoric numbness spread through your body. when his thumb nudges your clit, you jerk as though you’ve been electrocuted, whining from the sensitivity.

“are you okay?” he asks lowly, voice ragged while his hand massages at your side.

“y-yeah, i’m okay. i just—i need to do that again.”

choso laughs, causing you to do so as well. “maybe in a few more minutes. how ‘bout we change up the position so you’re on your back? if we do, i’ll be able to see that pretty face.”

[flowafairy]

☆ WE’RE ONLY GETTING OLDER BABY.

❦ g.satoru x reader : celebrating his birthday. cw : fluff, 0.2k wc ʚ event masterlist ( #DAY7 ) ꣑ৎ

“happy birthday to you, baby.” you place the bright blue party hat over his nicely-done hair, slightly messing it up. “you’re old now! what are you like.. 35? old man.” you look at him with a teasing smile.

“heeyyy, im a handsome old man alright?” satoru chuckles at your teasing, something you definitely picked up from him. “yeah yeah, you are.” you roll your eyes. “blow out the candles, ‘toru. don’t forget to make a wish.”

satoru leans down, trying to ignore the way his mouth waters at the vanilla cake. he takes a deep breath, exhaling the air he took in and the fire extinguishes.

his mind goes blank as he stares at the candles. before you, he dreaded birthdays. he was reminded of how suguru wouldn’t be there to celebrate with him. all that happens on this ‘special day’ was him growing a step closer to death, nothing more.

but now he has you. you’re always there to make his birthday feel special, you give meaning to this day—to december 7th. he never fails to feel your love on this stupid date. even if you spend hours picking out the perfect gift for him, nothing beats you being there with him, by his side.

“got you, sugar.” satoru smudges the icing on your cheek, grinning at the way your face contorts into a look of displeasure. “hey!”

“what was your wish?” you clean a bit of icing off your cheek with your tongue.

“that you’ll be here next year, to celebrate with me.”

i have not forgotten day 5 and 6 ! just wanted to post this for my beautiful blue eyed man ^o^

[mrindpolitics]

DA Hike latest Update: DA/DR जबरदस्त उछाल के साथ, महंगाई भत्ता AICPIN 12 महीने के टॉप पर

Please read our new post.

दोस्तों आप सभी का स्वागत है हमारे वेबसाइट Mr. Indian Politics पर। आपको जानकर खुशी होगी कि AICPIN पिछले 12 महीने का रिकॉर्ड तोड़ते हुए जबरदस्त उछाल पर है जिसके चलते महंगाई भत्ते में जबरदस्त उछाल देखने को मिलने वाला है। जैसा कि आप सभी जानते हो जुलाई, 2023 से मिलने वाला महंगाई भत्ता 46% बन चुका है, मात्र घोषणा होनी बाकी है और जनवरी 2024 के लिए पहले ही महीने का जो अखिल भारतीय उपभोक्ता मुद्रा सूचकांक…

[yanderedrabbles]

Letters from a Yandere Vampire

December 7th, 1886

Dear y/n,

Please do not think me presumptuous for writing to you so soon, but my heart would give me no rest. I have been unable to stop thinking of you since our encounter at the Duke's soiree.

Perhaps it is my countenance or perhaps my foreign heritage, but London's débutantes seem to find me positively frightful. I had resigned myself to yet another evening of disappointment when you introduced yourself to me.

In all my travels, I have met few ladies with your boldness of spirit. You transformed my dour evening into one of unimaginable enjoyment.

I have included with my letter some pressed flowers from my native Transylvania. You expressed much interest in the botany of my homeland and I hope these will intrigue you.

Your interest in my travels is remarkably flattering. And, if I may be so bold, may I invite you to a dinner at my salon? I have much still to share.

Yours sincerely,

Count Nicolae Drăculești

December 17th, 1886

My dearest y/n,

How I enjoyed our evening together! When we danced, I felt my soul set afire. In my travels, none have so captivated me.

Do not think me hasty, but I have sent my messenger with a gift. I can think of no better place for these jewels than around your neck. Please, accept them with my most sincere compliments.

You amused me very much when you pointed out my teeth. My fangs are indeed much longer and sharper than a normal man's. Perhaps you wish to feel their sharpness against your skin?

The nights grow longer and colder. Do you dislike the winter darkness, I wonder. Or do you only long for someone to share it with, as I do?

Ah, forgive my rambling! I'm writing to ask if you will allow me the privilege of escorting you to the Yuletide ball? I can think of no finer gift to celebrate Christmas.

I must soon depart for my home and I insist on spending more time together before then.

Yours,

Nicolae Drăculești

December 25th, 1886

My love,

Merry Christmas! I walked through the untouched snow and even London seemed beautiful and pure.

In this cold, I can think of nothing but having you with me. A day without you is an eternity past.

It seems I have been waiting for you for centuries. Is it to bold to say you are the woman of my dreams? Forgive this fool his insolence, but when I write to you I feel possessed.

You have asked me at length about my aversion to the Church and silver. You are such a logical creature but there are some things beyond the realm of science.

Seek to know no more, for both our sakes.

Another matter has been bothering me of late. I have noticed Lord Lancaster has expressed an interest in you.

The man fawns over you like a slobering hound. As your companion, it is my duty to advise against him. He is unworthy of your attention, much less your sympathy. 

Surely you see that it is you and I that are the more compatible match?

Ever yours,

Nicușor

January 1st, 1887

Dear,

I wished to keep you ignorant of my nature. And yet, you have seen me unmasked. A creature of the night.

It was your blood that did it. A single drop was all it took for my instinct to take over.

I hope you are unhurt. If I were in my right mind, I never would have pinned you against the wall as I did. I never would have forced my kiss upon you.

I could hear your heart racing when I showed you my fangs. Why did you not scream?

Did I fighten you into silence? Or was it something else?

You asked me what you are to me and at the time I had no answer to give. Are you my prey? My meal?

I have spent all night in thought and still I fear uttering these words.

You are my beloved.

My heart belongs entirely to you, wretched and sinful though it may be. No blood is sweeter than yours.

I burn for you, my darling.

I grow agitated at each day that passes when we are not together. My treacherous mind plays such awful tricks on me. Surely you have not cast me aside for another? Or worse, have I frightened you beyond redemption?

Oh, banish the thought! Who has your affection? Your love?

Please, put my poor heart at ease. Meet me in the gazebo at the end of your garden after sunset.

I cannot bear to be parted from you much longer.

Ever your slave,

Nicușor

y/n,

My castle must be prepared for your arrival and I have set forth with great haste to do so. In case you awake before my return, I've left you this letter.

You are currently on board a private train car bound for Transylvania. Do not attempt to leave. My guards have strict orders to ensure you reach home.

You are changed, my dear.

I have bitten you and transformed you into a creature like myself. Upon our final meeting, I intended only to say goodbye. You are too fine and beautiful a creature to be wasted on the likes of me.

But when I saw you in the moonlight, I could not help myself.

You are so beautiful. So bright and lively. You are what my cold halls have lacked all these many years.

My love, I drank your blood. Every drop of it. Nothing in my centuries of existence has ever tasted so sweet, so right.

It can be frightening, I know. But do not despair.

The light of the sun will forever be out of reach, but there are a thousand traits you've gained. Strength. Speed. Immortality.

The grave will never taste your flesh, old age will never hound at your door.

As I am the one who changed you, I am also your Lord and Master. The bond between us is forged in blood. Wherever I go, you must always follow. If I am to die, so shall you. If I am to command, you must obey.

It is a tight leash and not one of my devising, I assure you.

I intend to be your partner and not your Lord. So for both our sakes, my love, do not give me cause to use that power.

You and I have all eternity together. Does it please you as it does me?

I have longed for a bride for centuries. You cannot imagine the loneliness. And in all those years, none have impressed themselves upon my heart as you have.

I have stolen you from the sunshine and into my world of night and blood. I have ripped away any hope of heaven and salvation. No God now, no church or altar.

I am a rogue and a thief and still I beg of you. Please love, do not hate me.

I've made you into my vampire bride.

Your husband,

Nicușor Drăculești

[dollishmehrayan]

WEIRD THINGS BATBOYS DO WHEN THEY LIKE YOU ── .✦

a/n: this is a request + ask so tysm to whoever sent that but it’s (here) but anyways I’m so excited for my birthday on december 7th this year and it’s just so beautiful to see me grow up honestly and find myself. (Tags: batboys x crush!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Excessive Flexing (Literally): Dick will "accidentally" do pull-ups in front of you. He’s already shirtless and grinning, saying, “Oh, didn’t see you there. Wanna join?”

Compliment Overload: “Is that a new hairstyle? New shoes? You look incredible. Oh, wait, you always look incredible.” He will literally point out your eyelashes looking perfect “wow so nice, your lashes are so long and beautiful.”

The Over-Helper: He suddenly insists on helping you with everything—carrying bags, opening jars, lifting heavy stuff—and does it with the biggest, dorkiest smile. “It’s no big deal, bab- I mean—uh… friend.”

Trips Over Air: He’s graceful in battle, but near you? He’s knocking over coffee cups and walking into doorframes. "I swear, I’m usually coordinated, maybe I’m falling for you?😉”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Overly Cool Persona: He tries to play it cool, acting like he doesn’t care. But then he’ll text you at 3 a.m. with, “U up? I found a meme that reminded me of you.”

Teases You Constantly: Jason’s version of flirting is lightly roasting you. “Did you really think that outfit would work today?” But if anyone else says something, he’s ready to fight.

Surprise Gifts: He’ll give you something like your favorite snack but pretend it’s no big deal. “I just had extra,” he’ll mumble, even though he went to three stores to find it.

Blushes Like Crazy: He’s all tough-guy until you compliment him, and then it’s over. He gets red and stammers, “Shut up,” while smiling like an idiot.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Awkward Genius Mode: He’s smart with everything… except his crush. Suddenly, forming coherent sentences is a challenge. “I-I mean, uh… yeah, computers.”

Googles 'How to Flirt': You’ll catch him peeking at his phone mid-conversation because he’s literally reading “Flirting 101” or reading Reddit threads on flirting gone wrong.

Coffee Delivery: He’ll bring you coffee with your exact order memorized and pretend it’s casual. “Oh, you like this too? Weird coincidence.” It’s not. He asked around for hours.

Accidentally Compliments You: He’ll blurt out, “You smell nice.” Pause. “I mean, not that I’m sniffing you or anything!” Cue him turning bright red and hiding behind his laptop.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Pretends He Doesn’t Care: He’ll act indifferent but secretly monitors everything you do. “I don’t care what you do,” he says while glaring at someone standing too close to you.

Suddenly Overly Polite: Damian, the king of sass, becomes weirdly respectful. “Would you like me to carry that for you? No? Okay. Are you sure?”

Gives You Fancy Gifts: He gifts you rare, expensive things like hand-picked flowers from the Wayne estate garden. “It’s not a big deal. Just take it.”

Random Acts of Bravery: He’ll jump in front of a moving bicycle or push you out of the way of a puddle, then act like it was nothing. “It was instinct. Don’t be dramatic.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Becomes an Awkward flirt: He’s smooth in public but completely loses it around his crush. “Do you need anything? No? Water? A chair?” He’s offering things you don’t need.

Over-Explains Everything: Bruce will start talking about something mundane and give a full TED Talk. “Well, you see, the Batmobile’s engine is unique because…” You just wanted to know if it had cup holders.

Subtle Touches: He’ll brush your hand “accidentally” or adjust your coat collar, lingering just a second too long. But if you call him out, he’ll stammer, “I thought you were cold.”

Silent Protector: He’ll stand silently in the background, watching like a brooding guardian angel. If anyone flirts with you, his jaw clenches like it’s personal.

Bonus: Dumb Things They ALL Do ── .✦

Group Text Fiascos: They’ll text each other for advice, and it always goes wrong.

Jason: “Should I call her pretty or hot?”

Tim: “Say she’s breathtaking. It’s classier.”

Dick: “Just tell her you love her.”

Damian: “You’re all fools.”

Bruce (accidentally replying to all): “…Delete this.”

Staring Too Long: Every single one of them will stare at you for too long, only to awkwardly look away when you notice. They’ll try to play it off, but you know they were looking.

Clumsy Idiots: They’ll all try to do something impressive—lift something heavy, show off their fighting skills—and it’ll backfire hilariously. But the effort is adorable.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Monty, holding kitten Solar: …I wanna squish him.

Moon: *drops down from the rafter, takes kitten Solar, and kicks Monty in the face* Mine.

[sayruq]

Dear Mark Zuckerberg and Leadership, This letter is a follow-up to the letter that was circulated internally on Dec 19, 2023 and deleted and dismissed due to our Community Engagement Expectations (CEE) on what can be discussed internally. Hence, we are sharing our concerns externally. We, Meta employees, wish to express our disappointment and astonishment at the lack of acknowledgement and care the leaders of this company have shown toward the Palestinian community and its allies. In private conversations, we hear from our Palestinian colleagues about family members they have lost in Gaza and family they are working tirelessly to find safety for. However, any open support for our Palestinian colleagues or the millions facing a humanitarian crisis in Palestine is met with internal censorship of employee concerns, biased leadership statements showing one-sided support, and external censorship that is raising public alarm and distrust of our platforms. Internally, we have called out the months of silencing within our workplace forums. While we loudly display “Your voice is valued”, CEE is used as a guise to delete dissenting opinions and silence employees that may simply be seeking solace from their coworkers or raising awareness about building safer products. While in other companies, employees within Employee Resource Groups (ERG) are allowed to connect and speak freely with each other, ERG’s such as Muslims@ and Palestinians@ have faced so much censorship that an employee proposed just deleting the ERG altogether instead of giving the illusion that we can freely build community at Meta. CEE claims to reduce disruptions in our workplace, yet censorship from CEE has caused many of us at Meta to feel disrupted, unheard, and unsafe to the point that several of our Metamates have decided to resign. In the words of our former colleague, any mention of Palestine is taken down - Even when the post was from a colleague expressing their grief. Even when the post was to celebrate the UN International day of support to the Palestinian people. Even when the post is a link to a fundraiser to help the Gazans. Even when asking questions about product bugs that affect Palestinian voices.

One of the original core values of Facebook was to “Be Open” and our current values claim that “We create a culture where we are straightforward and willing to have hard conversations with each other.” Employees have always been first responders to surface issues raised externally to those internally with the power and knowledge to fix them. However when over 450 colleagues came together to sign a letter similar to this one in December, CEE was used to delete the letter and restrict one of the writers from their work devices for over two months while the workplace, product, and policy concerns brought forth were completely ignored. Employees have attempted to raise product concerns related to the conflict only to have their posts and comments censored or dismissed throughout internal channels. Most recently, questions about investigative reports indicating the possibility of governments, ISPs, and coordinated bad actors using Whatsapp data for military targeting have been met with dismissive and insufficient responses or outright deleted throughout internal forums. Meta leaders have posted numerous strong statements of support for our Israeli colleagues along with condemnation of the attack on Israel on October 7th that took the lives of ~1,200 civilians, both on internal and external platforms. Mark stated on his public Facebook - “The terrorist attacks by Hamas are pure evil. There is never any justification for carrying out acts of terrorism against innocent people. The widespread suffering that has resulted is devastating. My focus remains on the safety of our employees and their families in Israel and the region.”

However, bias and inequity is painfully apparent when those same leaders do not similarly share support for our Palestinian colleagues and allies nor condemnation of the attacks on Palestine, which have now taken ~35,000 civilian lives and created a humanitarian crisis of displacement and starvation for ~2 million Palestinians. This has created a hostile and unsafe work environment for hundreds of our Palestinian, Arab, Muslim, anti-Zionist Jew, and anti-genocide colleagues at the company, who have felt consistently alienated and uncomfortable at work. Many have tried to articulate this through posts on Workplace only to be censored, rebuffed, and/or penalized. Feedback shared directly with leadership on Workplace Chat has been met with dismissiveness. Bias and inequity for the human rights and humanitarian crisis in Gaza is also apparent when compared to the Russian invasion of Ukraine, after which there was an outpouring of leadership support on all fronts, including additional resourcing and investment through various social impact initiatives. The lights in the Dublin office were even painted with the colors of the Ukraine flag. Leadership must do better to achieve true equity and inclusion. Externally, when it comes to Palestine, the dismissive tone and lack of investment by Meta is not new and the company has consistently failed to thoroughly take action on years of evidence of suppression of Palestinian voices on our platforms worldwide. In 2024 the company is still slowly addressing the findings of an independent audit influenced by Human Rights Watch’s (HRW) 2021 letter to Meta on the Palestinian conflict 3 years ago. In the wake of October 7th, Meta has ignored reasonable requests for transparency on our content policies from Senator Elizabeth Warren and other lawmakers around the globe. Numerous civil rights organizations, some of whom are Meta partners, have been met with dismissal on the censorship concerns brought forth - leading to external petitions such as one against Meta’s proposed policy of treating “Zionist” as a proxy for "Jewish”, which collected over 52,000 signatures. While Meta denies any Palestinian censorship or bias to the public, internally groups of employee volunteers have found numerous product and policy issues with disparate impacts to Palestinian, Muslim, and Arab communities since October 7th. The few improvements that have been made were achieved only by appealing to isolated product teams, with minimal senior leadership support or resources. Furthermore, in the wake of global criticism of censorship and moderation, leading into the biggest year for democracy in history, Meta has updated its policy to no longer recommend ‘political content’ by default across Instagram and Threads without clear guidelines of how this would impact content originating from global conflict zones. Meta has continued to fail the Palestinian community through its policies and lack of investment.

“Meta.Metamate.Me.” We believe we are all Meta and are committed to respectfully working together to address the issues internally and externally, while holding firmly to the demands we have been echoing for months: We demand an end to censorship - stop deleting employee’s words internally in order to foster an inclusive environment where all communities feel seen, heard, and safe We demand acknowledgment - share internal acknowledgments of support for Palestinian colleagues and acknowledge the lives lost in the ongoing humanitarian crisis in Gaza to recognize our shared humanity We demand transparency and accountability - allocate dedicated resources to investigate issues of censorship and biases on our platforms and openly disclose findings to build trust among employees and the public We implore you to end the silence - issue a public statement urging for an immediate, permanent ceasefire in Gaza As tech workers, we have a tremendous privilege to work on products that serve the world, and with that comes tremendous responsibility. We have been proud to work at Meta – and want to continue believing in its mission to give people the power to build community and bring the world closer together.

If you're a current or former Meta worker please sign the letter here

[no-passaran]

Spain lied about not selling weapons to Israel.

Even after October 7th, Spain has sold more than 1 million € of weapons to Israel. Norway and Finland make it possible.

In January, Spain made headlines word-wide when the government's Minister of Exteriors, José Manuel Albares (PSOE), claimed in Congress and later again in a radio interview that Spain had stopped selling weapons to Israel ever since October 7th. Israel's intensification of violence in Gaza following October 7th meant that, on top of decades of apartheid and ethnic cleansing, between October 7th and January 23rd Israel had already killed 28,000 people and forced 2 million out of their home. In this context, many people were demanding their governments stop arming and funding the genocide of the Palestinian people, and here on Tumblr and other social media sites like Twitter I think we all saw the many posts praising the Spanish government for this.

Well, it turns out it was a lie.

According to Albares, "Since October 7th there are no more weapons exportations [from Spain] to Israel". But in November alone, Spain exported weapons to Israel for 987,000€, as was published on the Spanish Government's official website dedicated to exterior commerce (Comex). A researcher from Centre Delàs (an independent centre for peace studies) found it and published it, and it has also been verified by newspapers such as elDiario.es.

This 987,000€ worth of weapons in November was not the only ammunition that Spain has sent to Israel in 2023. In 2023, Spain exported a total of 1.48 million € in war material to Israel.

All of the weapons sent in November come from the factory of Nammo Palencia (Castilla y León), a corporation that is 50% property of the Government of Norway and 50% owned by a public Finnish business. However, even if the owners are foreigners, the ammunition was sent from Spain and thus it had to be authorized by the an organism of the Spanish Government named Junta Interministerial de Defensa y Doble Uso, whose deliberations on whether a weapons exportation is accepted or denied are kept secret. The only cases where they have denied exporting weapons to Israel have been when they thought that Israel would re-sell these weapons to the Philippines.

Spain has had a close relation with Israel for years. As published by the Spanish Government, Spain has sold 20 million € of weapons to Israel between 2012 and 2022. Spain also buys weapons and military software from Israel (for example, the Spanish Intelligence Service has been using the Israeli software Pegasus to illegally spy on Catalan activists, journalists, politicians and civil society members and their relatives to attack the Catalan independence movement), and Spain has continued buying from Israel and allocating defense contracts to Israel even after the October 7th attacks. It is very difficult to track the concessions of public contracts such as buying weapons, but some contracts have been known. For example, on November 24th 2023, Spain bought 287.5 million € of missiles from Israel. This is not unusual: between 2011 and 2021, it is publicly known that Spain bought war material from Israel for at least 268 million €, but experts say that the real number could be two or three times as much.

Spain has also continued allocating concessions to Israel. For example, on December 15th 2023 Spain allocated a contract worth over 576 million € to Israel for a rocket launcher programme. On November 22nd, Spain allocated another another Israeli company to provide missiles for 237 million € at the same time as the Spanish army bought Israeli inhibitors for 1.4 million €. The very next day, November 23rd, Spain signed another military allocation to Israel for 82,600€. The following week, Spain signed yet another allocation with a different Israeli military corporation for 3.7 million €.

Spain also allows Israeli weapon manufacturing companies to produce weapons through their branches located in Spain. This way, Israeli weapons make their way to markets with which Israel doesn't have diplomatic ties but Spain does, like Saudi Arabia. And since Spain is a member of NATO, Israeli weapons produced in Spain are approved according to NATO standards and access it easily. In the same way, these Israeli weapons manufacturers also access European Union defense funds through their branches in Spain. (source).

As I said, I saw a lot of positive posts around when Albares said Spain was going to embargo, but I haven't seen any post about how they didn't do it. I also (personally) haven't seen anything on international media, and barely anything on Spanish media, which is already busy with the PSOE covid material corruption scandal. So I share this in the hope of helping put pressure on Spain to cut all ties with Israel immediately.

SHAME ON EVERYONE WHO GIVES ISRAEL THE MATERIAL AND MONEY THAT WILL BE USED TO MASSACRE THE PALESTINIAN PEOPLE. SHAME ON SPAIN, NORWAY, AND FINLAND.

[gojoest]

BEDTIME STORY (about love) — gojo satoru

in which satoru tells his daughter the story of how you met. those of you who’ve read this already know, but your now 4-year-old daughter is yet to hear it

girl dad satoru, father-daughter time, she/her pronouns used for reader, wc: 1k, not proofread, just a silly little thing

“papa”

“yes, my life?”

“how did you and mama meet?”

“oh my, i never told you the story?”

“no, papa. you didn’t”

“well—"

one thing gojo satoru never fails to do, no matter how busy his schedule, is reading bedtime stories to his 4-year-old daughter. even when he’s swamped with missions, he would make sure he is at home by the time his daughter had to sleep — after tucking her in, he would sit beside her with a book in hand and read her a story until she’s fast asleep.

but tonight, your daughter asked for a different kind of story — the origin of your love, how the two of you met — and truth be told, satoru was more than excited to talk about it (as he always is whenever the topic in question involved you).

his eyes glowing with the same old dreamy glint anytime your name was mentioned, he puts the book on the nightstand and makes himself comfortable next to his little one in bed. slightly scooching her over so he could sit with his back leaning against the headboard, he cradles her in his arms and takes a deep breath before starting.

“it all happened on my birthday, 7 years ago”

“december 7th!”, your daughter excitedly points out.

satoru chuckles, his chest swelling with joy that his little daughter remembers his birthday. “that’s right, my life. your mother came into my life like a birthday present”, his lips curl into a gentle smile as he reminisces about the night that changed his entire life.

“was mama invited to your birthday?”

“no, but we just happened to be in the same restaurant that night. while i was celebrating with friends, she was there, on another table, with her coworkers”

your daughter hums, “i see”

“she was so beautiful, i noticed her the moment she walked in. and i couldn’t take my eyes off her for the rest of the night. i knew i had to go and talk to her before she left. something in me knew she was the one, you know?”

your little one tilts her head up to look at satoru, eyes curiously blinking, “but how did you know, papa?”

“my heart whispered it to me, beating relentlessly the entire time. it was like this unknown force was pulling me towards your mom and the whole time i was trying to come up with a plan, an excuse even, to go talk to her without coming off as a weirdo”

“and did you succeed?”

“well, by the looks of it—”, he points at her and gently boops her nose, “i did”

she chuckles sweetly, “no, papa—i mean did you manage to not be a weirdo?”

“hmm, i’ll let you decide on that one. so pay attention, okay?”, to which she silently nods. his hand rubs the top of her head softly before continuing.

“you see, i couldn’t think of anything but nor could i wait any longer. i decided i’d just go and say hi. so i stood up and made my way towards her table. i had to know her as soon as possible, because every second of inaction felt like it was taking away from my future with her. any second was precious, you know? if i could be with her sooner, be it even a planck time earlier, i had to take it — as it would only add up to the time spent with her”

“what is planck time, papa?”, your daughter cuts him off.

“it’s theoretically considered to be the shortest measurable time”

“is it less than a second?”

“waaaaay less”

“woah, papa you were down bad for mama”, your daughter gasps in amusement.

an audible laugh breaks through satoru’s lips, “yea, i was. and i still am”

“and what happened when you went over?”

“i said hi but she wasn’t having it at all, didn’t even bat me an eye. tried to chase me off before i was able to introduce myself. but i was already determined to make her mine, i knew it deep down that she was my person. so i forced my way and introduced myself”

“papa you’re a stubborn one”

“yea, but your mother turned out to be even more stubborn. she dodged all my attempts at her. so, i had to make it very clear to her, let her know that the man standing before her was the one to be her boyfriend, then her husband, and then the father of her children — therefore, in order for all this to work, i asked for her number”

“you really said all that?” — satoru nods to her question affirmatively. “papa, that’s so bold of you, honestly”, another gasp leaves your 4-year-old’s mouth. “and then?”

“and then she got mad at me, thought i was playing around with her”, satoru chuckles, brushing a hand across his face at the memory, closing his eyes to replay that very scene in his mind. your reaction is still pretty vivid to him, how your eyes grew wide in disbelief after what he had just told you...

i am gojo satoru, also known as the man to be your boyfriend, then your husband, and then the father of your children — and you are to be my girlfriend, then my wife, and then the mother of my children…

…and then how you narrowed your eyes and gave him a good lecture.

is this your move? you pull this on everyone you find remotely attractive?

“to be honest, i was slightly panicking internally — this was my best move, you know? and it was failing. but luckily, your uncle suguru came to my aid. he convinced your mom to give me a chance before blatantly turning me down. and she did — i got her number by the end of the night”, a soft smile painted on his lips again. “look at us now — wasn’t i right about all that?”

“papa, you’re a hopeless romantic”

“you bet i am”, he smugly confirms.

“…and a bit of a weirdo”, she cackles quietly.

“oi”, satoru furrows his brows. his hand softly tickles the side of her, incurring a loud laugh on her end. “shhh, time to sleep now or else mama will scold me for keeping you up past your bedtime”

“but, papa — you did well, being a weirdo paid off”

“yea, it really did — it gave me a home and a family”, his eyes soften observing the treasure in his arms.

[euthymiya]

Your day is ruined—right as the clock strikes midnight and it’s hardly even begun. Here’s how it goes:

December 7th, 12:00 AM

Suguru: happy birthday satoru

You: HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABY!!!

You: NOOOOOO WTF I WAS GONNA BE FIRST

Shoko: lmaooo rip

Baby <3: I didn’t even read suguru’s text babe don’t worry I have him muted

Suguru: Bro that’s not how a group chat works

You’ve been sulking ever since—and sure, the day is about Satoru and not your petty differences with Suguru and his inability to be compassionate to a serious, devoted, loving and blossoming relationship (which is something his lonely, sad existence has never experienced, you suppose, in his defense). But it’s customary to be the first one to text your boyfriend happy birthday and Suguru has ruined your day.

You glower over at him from across the table as he hides his smug smile and takes a bite of cake.

“This is good cake,” he hums. He looks directly at you as he says it, like he’s taunting you.

You unfortunately take the bait. “I know,” you spit, “I got it because it’s Satoru’s favorite.”

“Every cake is his favorite,” Shoko snorts. “You could put a candle on a pile of sugar and he’d never know the difference.”

“Hey!” Satoru cuts in, crossing his arms and pouting, “I’m right here! And you’re not supposed to be rude to the birthday boy.”

“Yeah, Shoko,” Suguru scolds, “Just because something’s true doesn’t mean you should say it. It’s rude.”

“I need new friends,” Satoru mutters, rolling his eyes as he cuts himself yet another slice of cake to nurse his wounded feelings. You glare at both of them as you pinch his cheek in an attempt to lift his spirits.

“We could always replace Suguru,” you offer, “He’s always causing problems anyway.”

“Why? Because I happen to remember Satoru’s birthday a second quicker than you?” He grins, winking at you with an infuriatingly smug look that you’d like to burn off with the candles.

Instead, you huff, crossing your arms as you retort, “Well, it sure would be easy to send a quick message with no effort. I put a heart in mine.”

“How long does a heart take to add on the end?” Shoko raises a brow.

You glare at her, snapping as you point out, “You didn’t even text him at all. How long does it take to type out a quick happy birthday?”

She grabs her phone, typing away as you stare at her blankly until all three of your phones buzz.

Shoko: happy bday

“Wow,” Satoru says flatly, “Thanks, Shoko.”

“No problem,” she beams, innocently batting her lashes at him as he rolls his eyes.

Despite it all, you can’t help but let out a small giggle. One by one, everyone lets out a soft chuckle in what feels like a chain reaction cycle, each laugh spurring on the next. Finally, when you’ve all slumped against your chairs, catching your breaths as joy leaves its stain across your lips, you glance at Suguru.

“I’ll be first next year.”

He hums, standing as he grabs his coat and murmurs, “Good luck with that. You have cute dreams.”

Shoko rises, following as she mumbles, “You guys need lives.”

They both leave—it’s just you, Satoru, and the space between your chairs. But he’s quick to fix that, leaning over and grabbing under the cushion to pull you closer to him until your thighs touch.

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he hums, amused as he glances at you over the lens of his sunglasses. You roll your eyes, grabbing them off his face and deciding to skip the usual comment you like to throw that only pretentious guys wear sunglasses indoors.

It’s his birthday, after all.

“I’m not mad,” you huff, “I’m annoyed. There’s a difference.”

“How?” He snorts.

“Like when I’m around you,” you tease. “I’m always annoyed with you but not mad. See? Big difference.”

When he pouts, you laugh, grabbing his cheeks and pulling him closer to press a chaste, sweet kiss to the puckered slopes of his mouth. He hums in appreciation at the gesture.

“Not supposed to be mean to birthday boys.”

“You’re right,” you murmur, “I’m sorry. You’re never annoying.”

“Well, you don’t have to lie,” he cracks a grin.

You giggle against his mouth, pressing kisses in between shared huffs of laughter. He tastes like frosting and an easy smile. You can feel the warmth of his lips press against yours and seep down to your fingertips. They cradle his face and the warmth is pressed back into his cheeks.

It’s a cycle. You don’t want it to ever stop.

“I’ll be first next year,” you promise quietly. He likes the sound of that—next year. Whether you’re first or not, he hopes there’ll be a next year. And the year after that. Maybe a decade. Maybe a century. Maybe until your bones are one with the earth and all that’s left to prove your love is the way your tombstone is next to his.

“Well,” he murmurs slyly, hand hiking up your thigh, “You could always be the last to say happy birthday, if that’s any appeal to you.”

“Oh,” you fight back a grin, shaking your head in amusement. “I suppose that’ll work. I guess I can end it rather spectacularly—Suguru could never.”

You stumble into your bedroom in a messy heap of limbs and a weave of shared laughter. Next year, you’ll be first. But this year, you’ll take it nice and slow and appreciate every second until the clock reads: 12:00 AM, December 8th.

————————————————

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY MOST SPECIAL BABY EVER he’s alive and well and eating cake off my tits don’t worry guys I saved him