#give me this prompt I grab at it with need

[deepdreamnights]

A shorter sum-up that may correct some of the inevitable misunderstandings from the rather loose use of the term "scrape."

A guy making low-rent audiobooks downloaded a huge chunk of AO3 content for his robots to read, in the precise same way creepypasta youtubers have been operating for years.

That's it, that's the whole deal.

Generally in AI conversations it means to harvest and process training data. Whereas here it's being used in the older, pre-AI term, of grabbing a bunch of data from an un-or-under-protected website via bot.

Which yeah, it's scummy, but it's analogue scummy, and well in keeping with a number of common copyright misconceptions. I can't tell you how many idiots I've met that thought fanworks had no IP protections because they were violations of the corporate owners' IP.

But this?

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation.

That's not how any of this works.

The OP is acting as though this is all being done through a single, automated system, and it isn't. Even the idea that this is Weitzman's AI is silly, as he's likely using off the shelf services. This scam is too petty to justify the cost of anything custom in either time or cash.

Here's what's actually going down, in all likelihood, on the pirate's side of things:

He figured out the most popular works via simple metrics and got a bog-standard website downloader go to work on it or he spent a night right-clicking.

The resulting files for the fics were loaded into word or some similar program and a macro was used to automatically fix formatting for the autoreader.

He ran each fic through an autoreader, and posted those like any other .mp3 file.

Meanwhile, he gave Chat GPT the story link and said "Summarize this and give me a cover prompt"

He takes the cover prompts and runs them in Midjourney with some standard formatting cues.

Now, what isn't happening at any stage in this process is processing the work into a dataset.

Generative AI systems do not continually harvest and incorporation information given to them by end users.

This is outside of their capabilities with a few specific exceptions ( Some AI services log user interaction for later processing into a training dataset, but that is a separate process, and Chat-GPT has features to webcrawl specific sources of "Trustworthy information" but in those cases its functioning as a search engine.) But incorporating data into the training dataset requires crunching the whole set of weights.

Even if one developed a generative AI system that could actively harvest and learn information, you wouldn't want to let it. Unfiltered junk data degrades dataset quality very quickly and is an open invitation to disruptive overfitting through users being generally repetitive. It's okay for more than half your users to generate pictures of dogs or cats playing in the clouds, but you don't want that to be half your dataset.

The situation being, the disagreeable aspects of this scenario are all forms of analogue jackassery, people have been swiping fiction off the net and turning it into shitty autoreader autobooks for long before generative AI came around.

The only difference here is the quality of the robot voice and the thumbnail art.

And as to worries about AO3's stories being scraped for AI training, well, AO3 is part of the generally indexed internet-

-the chicken is already in the nugget. ChatGPT gobbled it up ages ago, and Google and Bing had done so before that as part of their search indexing.

Now, every AO3 author who is upset is well within their rights to be so. Their work was pirated in a non-transformative way, and this guy's mistake was setting up with completed ebooks rather than hawking a "I will autoread any webpage" app.

But there is a certain irony to the real panic being that the work might have been turned into a dataset for the creation of new works when that panic comes from fanwork creators. If dataset training is theft then so are fanworks.

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

Again, please, please PLEASE reblog this post instead of the one I sent originally. All the information is here, and it's driving me nuts to see the old ones are still passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much.

[livelaughlovesubs]

Sylus with the prompt: spitting in their mouth and making them beg.

Pls, thank you 🤗 he's a dom for everyone but he's just a lil bratty sub for me 😌

YES YES YES AND I REALLY NEED THIS AFTER HIS MYTH CARD DIDNT COME HOME

Dom!reader x sub!sylus - reader is gender neutral

Warning: teasing, spit, begging, humiliation

Anniversary event

“You are really something, sylus.” You stood in the doorframe to his room, leaning to the side and crossing your arms in front of you, a mocking smile on your face. “I was wondering why you’d invite me to your room, after that little dispute.” The room was dimly lit like always, the furnitures as spotless and elegant as ever, so doubt. But there were rose petals everywhere, really everywhere. On the bed, couch, table and floor. If you took a single step into the room, it’d be like walking on a rose field.

Alongside side the flowery scent caused by the seemingly fresh petals, there were also candles everywhere, lighting up the room. There he sat, on the dark red coloured couch, a glass of crimson wine in his hand, swirling the glass around before taking a small sip. He was going overboard with this ‘bloody red’ aesthetic. “Well sweetie, would you still care to share a drink?” The white haired male said, raising his chin to glance in your direction.

You thought about it for a few seconds, then sat down opposite to him. Then you grabbed the bottle and carefully filled your glass. “So demanding. What have you planned?” A light, calculated chuckle, him with his usual confidence that he’ll get whatever he wants, “you are making me sound like I’m some evil mastermind.” After a quick glance at him, you took a sip as well, it was bitter.

“Sylus, do you really think I’ll forget what happened just because you’ve decorated your room a little?” This time, you were the one laughing, “seriously, you have to try harder than this.” He raised a brow, twirling the glass around in his hand. Then he smirked at you, leaning forward to stabilise himself with his arms, “so? What do you have in mind, sweetie?” You scoffed, “can’t you think of something yourself?”

He stared at you for a few seconds, almost like he was waiting for you to give in, but you wasn’t going to play this game. Instead, you put your focus onto the wine in your hand. “Hah.. feisty kitten.” The male said while fumbling through his white hair. “Don’t call me that.” You snapped, pulling a grimace. He ignored it and stood up from his seat, walking around the coffee table and pinning you to the sofa, “will you accept my apologies now, darling?”

You grabbed his shoulder and pushed down, mumbling, “that’s not how someone asks for forgiveness. Do I really need to teach you?” His eyes had a spark of interest in them, and he followed your guidance until he kneeled on the floor before you. “Try to teach me then.” After a small pause, you leaned forward and yanked his head back, causing him to let out a sharp gasp, he frowned a little at your actions.

“Firstly, you have to show some sincerity and beg.” Even now he hasn’t stopped grinning, and it only fuelled your frustrations. That’s when he said, “alright, I beg for your forgiveness…” he stopped, wondering what nickname he should use “master?” now it sounds like he was mocking you. God bless your patience. “Secondly, don’t act so cocky when you are the one at a disadvantage.” You snarled, grabbing his chin to make him look up at you.

Sylus didn’t resist, he took your challenge head on and nodded, “what else, sweetie?” You sighed and drank the last bits of your drink, putting the glass away, using your thumb to brush against his bottom lip, “thirdly, obey whatever that person has to say.” His breath quickened, and he panted slightly. “Try again.” You ordered, and he stuck his tongue out to lick the tip of your finger, whispering in a soft voice, “please forgive me, y/n.”

It was better than nothing. “Now, open your mouth.” You said, changing your hold to grabbing his chin again. He furrowed his brows at that, and looked at you with a confused expression, “what have you planned?” Instead of answering his question, you reminded him, “rule three.” Though he was a little hesitant, he did as you asked. “Good, stick your tongue out.” You had such a commanding tone, it was fairly foreign to him.

It didn’t take long until he followed that order as well, waiting for what you’ve planned. You leaned over him, looking down, also sticking your tongue out. Saliva trickled from the tips of your tongue. The wait was long, torturous so until it finally dropped down right into his mouth. “You know what to do.” You smiled wickedly, then leaned back against the couch, watching his Adam’s apple move as he swallowed.

Soon, your attention turned to his flushed face. A faint blush covered his cheeks and he struggled a little to keep eye contact with you. The act of swallowing it wasn’t even half as shameful as the awkward, silent wait he had to endure moments before. Him, having to wait for you to degrade, to spit in his mouth. The self sure smirk has been wiped from his face, and so you commented,

“Good job, I’ll forgive you.”

[solxamber]

Pomefiore, 7, Comedy/Fluff

everytime i see a pomefiore request, an angel gains its wings

Always Watching || Rook Hunt

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "For you, anything" ; Genre: Comedy/Fluff

You slumped against the bed, your head drooping as you let out a pitiful groan. Rook sat beside you with a concerned expression, holding your hands gently in his own.

"Mon amour," he said, voice dripping with theatrical worry, "you look as though the very life has been drained from your enchanting form."

"That’s because it has," you muttered. "Crowley’s got me running around like his personal errand mule. I’m doing everything except polishing his tailcoat at this point. I’m so tired, Rook. I think my soul is trying to escape my body."

Rook's eyes narrowed, and a dangerous glint flickered behind the veneer of his charming smile. He tilted his head, his golden hair catching the dim light. "Ah, such a grave injustice cannot stand."

You sighed, too exhausted to argue. "Unless you’ve got some magic solution to deal with Crowley, I’m just gonna have to suffer until I keel over or he decides he’s bored of me."

Rook’s smile sharpened. "Leave everything to me, ma chérie. For you, anything."

You didn’t think much of it. Rook often said dramatic things, and you figured he was just trying to cheer you up. You kissed his cheek, thanked him, and promptly fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The next day, Crowley summoned you to his office. Expecting another list of unreasonable tasks, you dragged yourself there, only to be greeted by something completely unexpected: a visibly nervous Crowley.

“Ah, prefect,” he said, wringing his hands. “Good news! I’ve decided there’s no need for you to handle all those tasks. I realized that as a benevolent and magnanimous headmaster, I may have been… overly reliant on you.”

You stared. “...Really?”

“Yes, yes,” he said quickly, waving his hand. “Go, enjoy your youth or whatever it is students do. No need to thank me. Now, off you go!” He ushered you out of his office, looking pale and slightly sweaty.

You blinked in confusion but decided not to question it. After all, a reprieve was a reprieve. And who were you to argue with divine intervention?

Later, you met up with Rook in the woods. You relayed the strange encounter with Crowley, still baffled. "It’s so weird. He looked… spooked, almost. But hey, I’m not complaining. It’s about time he stopped using me as his personal assistant."

Rook chuckled, his emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ah, ma douce étoile, perhaps the universe has finally decided to grant you mercy."

You raised an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?"

He leaned in close, his cryptic smile widening. "Moi? I am but a humble admirer of beauty. How could I possibly influence the decisions of our esteemed headmaster?"

You squinted at him. "Rook—"

Before you could press further, he grabbed your hand and twirled you dramatically. "Come, my love! Let us revel in the splendor of the forest! The beauty of nature is calling, and I refuse to let you waste another moment thinking about mundane matters."

And just like that, you were whisked away into another one of Rook’s adventures. His enthusiasm was infectious, and soon you forgot all about Crowley’s odd behavior.

Unbeknownst to you, Crowley had indeed woken up the previous night to find an arrow lodged inches from his head, attached to a note written in elegant, looping script:

Mon cher directeur,

While I greatly admire your leadership, I must request that you cease overburdening the prefect. I have many talents, as you know, and it would be a shame for them to be used against you.

Always watching.

Crowley had nearly fainted. By morning, he’d resolved to do whatever it took to stay on Rook’s good side—even if it meant giving you the break you deserved.

And Rook? He kept his secret, because in his eyes, what mattered most was your happiness.

Masterlist

[httpsdana]

hiiii can i please request a joao felix fic where they do the ‘a boy who’s jacked and kind’ tiktok trend!! i think it’ll be really cute! love ur fics xx

Jacked and Kind~João Fèlix

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

João was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his TikTok fyp when he suddenly burst out laughing. “amor, you need to see this”

She glanced over, eyebrow raised, as he showed jer a video of a couple participating in the trending challenge to Sabrina Carpenter’s song.

The boyfriend lifts his girlfriend onto his shoulder with ease, flexing his muscles and looking ridiculously proud.

“Oh, no,” she groaned, already sensing what was coming. “You’re not going to make me do that, are you?”

João’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Oh, I’m absolutely going to make you do it. You’ve seen these arms, right?” He flexed dramatically, giving his bicep a quick squeeze.

She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Please, João. I’m not exactly lightweight, you know.”

“amor, I’m practically a superhero. I lift cars for fun.” He gave her a teasing look, clearly trying to be serious, but the way he said it made her giggle.

“Okay, Mr. Superhero,” she teased. “But if you drop me, I’m posting it to the internet, and you’ll never live it down.”

“I won’t drop you,” he said confidently, then added with a playful smirk, “But you’ll definitely post it, right? Gotta show off my muscles to the world.”

She raised an eyebrow, her arms crossed. “You’re such a child.”

“oh shut up” João replied , leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead. “Now, come on, let’s make this video. We’re gonna go viral.”

She sighed dramatically but gave in, standing up from the couch. “Fine, but if I break my back, I’m blaming you.”

“You’ll be fine, princesa. Just trust me,” João said with a wink. “You ready?”

She grabbed her phone, adding the song and preparing to film as he positioned himself. He flexed his arms one last time and gave her a wink. “Okay, on three. Hold on tight, and don’t look scared.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not scared, just... cautious.”

“three...two...one” João counted with the TikTok counter

In one fluid motion, João crouched down, then lifted her effortlessly onto his broad shoulders.

She yelped in surprise at how quickly it happened, but João’s hand was already on her thigh, holding her steady, while the other arm flexed proudly in front of the camera.

“Whoa, you actually did it,” she said, half in shock, half in awe. She couldn’t stop smiling, though she was still a little unsure of the whole thing.

João looked up at her with that proud grin. “Told you, princesa. I’m jacked and kind. A perfect match for this trend.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, trying to keep her balance. “You look like you’re about to audition for a bodybuilding competition.”

He flashed her a teasing wink, flexing again for the camera. “All for you, meu amor. Look at these muscles. You’re lucky to have me.”

“Lucky? I’m more like terrified,” she joked, her grip tightening on his shoulders as he started moving around a bit.

“Oh, come on, you love it. Admit it,” he teased, giving her a wink. “The view from up here is pretty great, right?”

She smirked. “Well, I guess it is. But don’t get too cocky, okay?”

“Too late,” João said, his grin growing wider as he flexed once more. “This is how you do it, amor.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed, rolling your eyes. “I’m impressed. Just put me down already the phone stopped filming ages ago.”

“you’re making me look good right now though.”

She laughed at his words before he gently lowered her back down, his hands sliding to her waist to steady her.

She stood there, grinning up at him. “Okay, I’ll admit it. You’re strong.”

He gave her a proud look, holding up his phone to check the video. “Told you! This is gonna get so many views.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” she teased, poking him in the chest.

“I’m full of you, meu amor,” João said with a wink, pulling her in for a kiss. “Now let’s post this before I start flexing again. Don’t want to break the internet with all this muscle.”

Dhe laughed against his lips. “Alright, alright. your fan girls are gonna love this video”

He pulled back, laughing at her words. “oh the edits will be amazing”

She smiled up at him, nodding head.

“Of course they'll be. your fans never miss”

João laughed, pulling her closer for another kiss. “I don't care about them. I just want everyone to know that I'm real boyfriend material”

She laughed at his words, leaning her head against his chest as they settled on the couch, their video long forgotten as they spent the rest of the evening in each other's arms.

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[1425fivefive]

Just saw your kink prompt list and my brain went briefly offline because your writing + any of the kinks on the list? I think i'll literally spontaneously combust.

I'm literally on my knees and begging for Landoscar + 17 (breeding). Alternatively Landoscar + 12 (forced feminization), 21 (wet + messy) or 24 (inexperienced partner).

I read these 4 kink prompts and my brain went 'YES' particularly loudly.

Literally any of the above and I will be the happiest Elf on the Shelf!!

breeding for landoscar (with a lil bit of feminization as a treat)! (for the kink prompt asks)

Oscar needs to find whatever McLaren employee thought it was a good idea to hand Lando a baby and tell them to never do it again. Babies should be banned from the MTC. Banned from anywhere within five kilometers of Lando’s vicinity. Because now that Oscar’s seen Lando with a baby—the way Lando’s eyes lit up, his delighted grin, how he couldn’t stop trying to make the baby laugh—Oscar can’t stop thinking about anything other than knocking Lando up.

Oscar’s not an idiot. He knows they’re both men, knows Lando can’t get pregnant. But it doesn’t stop Oscar from imagining it. Lando’s taut stomach swelling with a baby. Their baby. His tits getting heavy and full, perfect little handfuls. Milk dribbling from his nipples, Oscar licking it up, dragging his tongue over the sensitive buds.

Oscar decides not to mention it, figures Lando will probably be more than a little put off by Oscar telling Lando, a man, that Oscar wants to get him pregnant. Instead, Oscar contents himself with digging his fingers into Lando’s belly while he fucks him, kissing Lando’s neck, telling Lando how pretty he is, how perfect, how well he takes Oscar’s cock. Whenever Oscar comes, he stays in Lando a little longer than usual, fantasizing about making it take.

After a few weeks, Oscar figures Lando hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary. That Lando thinks Oscar’s just being his usual, adoring self.

But Oscar fucks Lando in front of the bathroom mirror in Lando’s hotel room one night, one hand resting on Lando’s belly, the other squeezing Lando’s pec.

“Gonna fuck you so full of me,” Oscar moans, meeting Lando’s eyes in the mirror. “Get you so fucking full of my come.”

Lando whimpers, tipping his head back against Oscar’s shoulder. “Please, Osc. Want you to.”

“Yeah?” Oscar pants, grinding deeper into Lando. “Want me to fill you up?”

“Please,” Lando whines, hand coming up to grab at Oscar’s hair, tug him closer, deeper. “Make me full. Wanna feel you.”

Oscar feels delirious. He rolls Lando’s nipple between his fingers, drags Lando back on his cock, groaning at the sight of Lando’s dick flopping with each thrust of Oscar’s hips, dark and flushed.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Oscar breathes. “Make yourself feel good.”

Lando whines and brings a hand down to his cock, rim tightening around Oscar.

“Yeah, Lando,” Oscar moans. “Just like that, good girl.”

Oscar doesn’t even realize what he’s said until he sees Lando’s mouth drop open, whole face going red, rim going ridiculously tight around Oscar.

“Oh, fuck,” Oscar stutters, thrusts slowing. “I didn’t, uh—”

Lando shakes his head so fast he looks like he might give himself whiplash, whining, “No, no, I liked it, please, Osc, you can—”

“Jesus,” Oscar groans, sinking his teeth into Lando’s shoulder, fucking in hard.

Lando cries out, cock blurting pre-come over his fingers, his tight little body shaking in Oscar’s hold.

“Yeah, Lando,” Oscar breathes, voice strained. “Make yourself feel good, baby, that’s it.”

“Oh,” Lando gasps, turning his head into Oscar’s neck, hand flying over his cock. “Oh, oh, oh—” He breaks off on a shaky moan, spilling all over his fist and the counter, panting against Oscar’s neck.

“Fuck,” Oscar groans, fingers tightening on Lando’s stomach. “God, Lando, that’s—”

“Osc,” Lando whimpers, starting to tremble from oversensitivity as his orgasm peters out.

Oscar starts to pull out, planning to come across Lando’s arse and thighs, but Lando throws a hand down to Oscar’s hip, keeping him in.

“No, please,” Lando begs, fucking himself back on Oscar’s cock. “Want you to—” He breaks off on a moan, eyes fluttering. But he opens them again, meets Oscar’s in the mirror. “Want you to fill me up,” he whimpers. “Want you to make me yours.”

Oscar’s panting against Lando’s shoulder, fucking him hard, deep, fast, lost in Lando’s eyes.

“Come in me,” Lando whispers. “Want you to give me a baby.”

Oscar comes with a shocked moan, whining and whimpering, spilling inside Lando, palm flat against Lando’s stomach, imagining Lando getting swollen and big with their baby.

“God,” Oscar moans, pressing in deeper, trying to make sure it takes. “God, Lando, fuck—”

“Yeah,” Lando whines, grinding back. “Yeah, Osc, please.”

Oscar gives Lando exactly what he wants. What they both want

After, Lando pulls them to the bed, drags Oscar’s hand to his arse and guides two of Oscar’s fingers to where he’s fucked open and puffy, wet with Oscar’s come.

“Want to keep you in,” Lando whispers, urging Oscar’s fingers inside.

“Fuck,” Oscar gasps and slips his fingers in, swallowing Lando’s whimper with a kiss.

When Oscar pulls back, he asks, “How’d you know?”

“What? That you wanted to knock me up?” Lando asks, smiling lazily.

Oscar huffs a laugh. “Yeah.”

Lando’s grin widens, and he tips his forehead against Oscar’s. “You’re easier to read than you think.”

Oscar’s chest aches, everything going soft. “Nah,” Oscar whispers. “Think you just know me too well.”

Lando tucks himself tighter against Oscar, letting out a pleased little hum.

[seospicybin]

SEOSPICY PREVIEW.

THE BABYSITTER: FINAL PART.

Felix x reader x Hyunjin. (s,f)

Chapters: Part I / Part II

Synopsis: You find a home away from home while caring for Aster, the lively son of Felix and Hyunjin and what begins as a temporary job blossoms into an unforgettable bond with a family that changes your life. But after graduation comes a difficult choice: pursue your dreams or stay with the people who’ve come to mean the world to you.

...

The kitchen is alive with the warm hum of activity. Felix adjusts the camera one last time, ensuring the angle perfectly captures the countertop where Aster stands on a sturdy step stool. His son’s tiny hands grip the edge of the counter as he bounces on his toes, excitement bubbling over.

“You ready, Aster?” Felix asks, his signature bright smile lighting up his face.

“I'm so excited!” Aster chirps, clapping his hands together.

You’re stationed behind the main camera, already recording, as Felix presses the timer on his phone to keep track of the video. He turns to Aster, holding up the first bowl of ingredients.

“Alright, say hi to everyone, Aster,” Felix says, his tone encouraging.

Aster waves enthusiastically at the camera. “Hi! We’re making... spaghetti meatballs!” His pronunciation of “meatballs” comes out slightly jumbled, and Felix chuckles, ruffling his hair.

“That’s right, baby,” Felix says. “Now, let’s show everyone what we need.” He glances at you briefly to check if the filming is going smoothly.

“Perfect,” you mouth at him while giving a thumbs-up.

Aster carefully picks up a small bowl of breadcrumbs, holding it high for the camera. “This is crumbs!”

Felix gently takes the bowl and sets it on the counter. “Breadcrumbs, good job, Aster. And what’s this?” He holds up an egg.

“Eggie!” Aster says proudly.

“Very good,” Felix says, his voice warm and encouraging. He turns to the camera. “We’re starting with the meatballs today. I’ve already prepped everything, so Aster just has to help me mix it all together.”

He grabs a large mixing bowl, placing it in front of Aster. Felix pours in the ground beef and hands Aster the bowl of breadcrumbs. “Okay, dump that in.”

Aster carefully tips the bowl, his little tongue poking out in concentration as he watches the breadcrumbs scatter over the meat.

Aster triumphantly claps his tiny hands. “I did it, dada!”

With a proud smile, Felix cheers him on. “Perfect! You’re a natural, Aster.”

One by one, Felix helps Aster add the egg, Parmesan cheese, minced garlic, and seasoning to the bowl. The boy’s tiny hands eagerly stir the mixture with a wooden spoon, though it’s clear the effort is a bit much for him.

“Need some help?” Felix asks, stepping in to guide Aster’s hands as they mix together. “There you go. Good job, baby!”

Aster grins up at him. “I’m doing it, Daddy!”

“You are,” Felix says, his heart swelling at the sight of his son’s joy.

You can’t help but laugh softly from behind the camera. “He’s a little chef in the making.”

Felix glances your way, catching your smile, and feels a rush of gratitude for moments like this. “He’s the best assistant I’ve ever had.”

The rest of the process is filled with Aster’s excited commentary as Felix shapes the meatballs and lines them on a baking tray. Once they’re in the oven, Felix shifts the focus to prepping the pasta, showing Aster how to carefully measure the noodles and explaining how they’ll boil them soon.

“Okay, Aster, what do we say to everyone watching at home?” Felix asks as they wrap up the video.

“Thank you for watching!” Aster says, waving at the camera again.

“And don’t forget to—” Felix prompts.

“Like and ’scribe!” Aster finishes with a giggle.

Felix scoops him up, pressing a kiss to his cheek as the camera clicks off. “That’s my baby.”

You lower the camera and grin. “This is going to be everyone’s new favorite video of you two.”

Felix chuckles, setting Aster down and watching as he runs off, already proclaiming he’s going to Hyunjin about the spaghetti meatballs.

The kitchen is finally quiet after the filming chaos, though the warm, lingering scent of baked meatballs fills the air. Felix is wiping down the counter as you approach him, still holding the camera.

“Alright, I think we're all set,” you say, carefully placing the camera on the counter. “Thanks for letting me leave early today.”

Felix looks up with a grin, his usual playful glint in his eyes. “No problem. You deserve a little fun. Just don’t forget—safe sex is key.”

You roll your eyes, groaning. “Felix, I swear—”

“Hey, it’s my duty as the responsible adult here,” he teases, raising his hands in mock surrender.

You shake your head, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

As you turn to grab your bag, Aster bounds into the room, still brimming with energy despite the day’s excitement. “Where you going, Bubba?” he asks, looking up at you with wide eyes.

You crouch down to his level, ruffling his hair. “Sorry, Aster but Bubba has to go now, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Aster nods, wrapping his small arms around your neck. “Bye-bye!”

“Bye-bye, Monster Aster,” you say softly, giving him a quick hug before surprise him with a tickle on his belly.

Felix steps closer and then crosses his arms in front of him. “And no hug for me?” he asks, mock-pouting.

With a laugh, you roll your eyes again but step forward to give him a quick hug. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” Felix replies, his grin widening. As you pull away, he leans in conspiratorially. “Need me to grab you some extra condoms before you go?”

You groan loudly this time, throwing your head back. “Felix!” He bursts out laughing and Aster, despite not understanding the joke, also laughing. Felix waves a hand dismissively and says, “Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But seriously, have fun, okay?”

You grab your bag and head for the door, looking back with a playful glare. “Thanks for the talk, Dad.”

Felix grins at you from the kitchen. “Don't drink and drive!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, stepping outside.

The door closes behind you, and Felix watches through the window as you walk down the path to the street. A faint breeze catches your hair, and you pull your bag higher on your shoulder. He doesn’t move until you’re out of sight, a bittersweet ache settling in his chest.

How many times had he watched you come and go, not thinking much of it? But now, each goodbye felt heavier, knowing soon it might be the last.

Felix takes a deep breath and turns back to the kitchen, but his movements are slower, weighed down by the thought of your absence.

“Why does it feel like we’re already saying goodbye?” he murmurs to himself, brushing a hand over the clean counter.

...

Full fic will be posted Friday, Dec 27!

[jintaka-hane]

Oh hello 😊😊

Sooo your “Kiss your blorbo” event… it’a great idea 😍😍

Can I ask a kiss from my beloved doctor Hongo, with “Are you gonna be my girl” from Jet as background music?

Send you lot of love 💖💖😘😘

[Kiss your blorbo at the New Year’s Eve event]

HONGO

Summary: Hongo is far too discreet, and it’s starting to annoy you. At the New Year’s Eve party in the port, you decide to test him by making him jealous. Word count: 1100 Warning: xf!reader; fluff; kissing, some jealousy; sort of pre-established relationship All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

You giggle as you let him play with your hair. You’ve let him buy you another beer, and now he’s shamelessly flirting with you, throwing out compliments as he leans slightly closer. Midnight is approaching, and amidst the singing, dancing, and the strong smell of alcohol and food from the nearby stalls, you bat your lashes at the man you’re seemingly having fun with tonight.

But he’s not the one holding your full attention.

Out of the corner of your eye, you’re keeping constant track of the doctor on your crew, cursing every time you realize he’s not looking your way, completely engrossed in chatting and drinking with Shanks and the others.

Hongo seems like the reserved type. Or at least, discreet when others are around. But behind closed doors when you’re in his bed, he’s anything but restrained with you.

What began between the two of you a few months ago as innocent, casual flirting gradually evolved into bold teasing and constant banter. The tension grew with each playful joke and every provocative, defiant look until one day, you grabbed him by his shirt and gave him what would be your first kiss, heated and hungry. But spending long periods confined together in the middle of the sea quickly made clandestine kisses no longer enough. Now, more nights than not, you find yourself tangled in his sheets, breathless, sweaty, and utterly spent.

By daylight, however, things change. The embraces of the night turn into brief exchanges of words. Your once-thirsty mouths become sidelong glances.

You were never looking for a relationship. You remember the moment you froze the first time his fingers brushed your shoulders while you were talking to Yassop, prompting him to pull back and avoid touching you again in front of others. Getting romantically involved with a crewmate would only cause problems, and the way you both keep your distance in public has conveniently helped you control your own feelings. Until now.

Tonight, you can’t stand how far away he is. You can’t stand how little he looks at you. You can’t stand those hands, shoved into his pockets, not resting on your waist. So, at the lively party the locals are throwing at the port to celebrate the new year, you do everything you can to make him jealous.

But it doesn’t seem to be working. Despite the man you’re humoring leaning closer and closer to you, your doctor stays wrapped up in laughter and conversations with the others.

Frustrated, you huff and take a sip of your drink as your admirer move his hand in an alarmingly intimate gesture to your chin and stroke it. You frown, smelling the alcohol on his breath, and before his lips can graze yours, you excuse yourself.

“I... uh... I need to go to the bathroom.”

Awkwardly and muttering curses under your breath, you stride away from the party, weaving through dancing couples and dodging people offering skewers of meat and beer. The music pounds in your ears, and all you can think about is getting away as fast as possible. But just as you’re about to escape the crowd, a strong hand catches your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and pulling you back to face him.

"I know what you're doing, and I don't like it," Hongo says harshly, looking at you with the same expression he would give to a nasty wound.

“Oh?” you say, surprised to see him but unable to contain your indignation. “Excuse me, sir, you’ve been watching me?” you ask, placing a hand on your chest.

“Doll, I’m always keeping an eye on you. I’d know if you had a headache even if you were on another ship.”

“Oh, yeah?” You yank your hand, but his grip on your wrist doesn’t loosen.

“Yeah.” He mimics you, giving your wrist a small tug, causing your chests to brush against each other. “I’d know if you caught a cold even from a thousand miles away.”

You look up at him, and your lips tremble for a moment. You part them to say something sharp, but before the words can leave your mouth, the crowd starts counting down to the new year.

“Ten, Nine, Eight!”

Taking a deep breath, you swallow hard and muster the courage to keep speaking.

“And my heart?" you ask, raising your voice so he can hear you over the cheers. "Would you know if it hurts right now?” You lock eyes with him.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

The way your pupils gleam in the colorful glow of the party lights makes him sigh and lean in a little closer to you.

“I know it does…” he whispers. “Just like mine.”

“Four! Three!”

Your heart drums in your chest, and your eyes close at the feeling of Hongo’s hand now tracing the line of your jaw.

“Two! One!”

You feel his nose brush against yours, and you when you tilt your head, his mouth claims yours in a heated and senseless kiss. Right there, in public, in front of everyone. He presses his lips firmly against yours, making your knees weak like only he knows how.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The crowd roars and cheers around you, throwing streamers and colorful confetti as fireworks explode in the sky. His fingers lace with yours as he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling your body closer to his. You smile into his kiss and bring both hands to his cheeks, refusing to let him go. His laugh is muffled against your lips, but he doesn’t release you, leaning in even more to deepen the kiss. Then, in one final teasing move, you pull away, leaving him breathless and wanting more.

It takes him a couple of seconds to collect himself before he asks you the question he's been holding in.

“So… are you gonna be my girl?” he says, leaning in toward you again.

“Your girl?” you giggle, tilting your head and stopping him by placing a hand on his chest. “Like… officially and out in the open?”

He nods, toying with your fingers intertwined with his. “Yes, officially and out in the op—”

His words are cut off by your lips, capturing his in a long, deep kiss. Your hands trail up to the back of his shaved neck, and he hums in approval before you both pull back.

“Are we heading to your cabin?” you ask him, your cheeks warm and flushed.

“My cabin…” For a moment, you’ve disoriented him with your kiss, but he quickly recovers. “Oh, yes, absolutely, later… but for now,” he flashes that smile that always makes your heart melt, then grabs your hips and lifts you into the air, “let me show off my girlfriend!"

Merry Christmas, Laney <3

.............................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[steddieas-shegoes]

homemade with love

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'stocking'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated t | 582 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, fluff, good parent eddie, good parent steve

🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦🧦

Eddie is sitting at the sewing machine when Steve walks in the kitchen, humming to himself with his tongue poked out in concentration. Steve doesn’t say anything, doesn’t want to interrupt whatever he’s so focused on.

The whirring of the sewing machine is loud, and Steve is a little worried it might wake Sawyer up after he just managed to get him to sleep for the night, but just as he’s about to say something, it stops. Eddie holds up what he’s working on and grins.

“It’s perfect.”

Steve raises a brow as he steps closer to see what he’s been working on.

It has the shape of a Christmas stocking, but it looks like-

“Rory gave me her old hockey socks to turn into a stocking for Sawyer. I fixed the hole in this one,” Eddie points to the gold one that’s taking up the backside of the stocking. “And sewed them together. The top part is the special ones we got her for holiday camp last year.”

“I see,” Steve takes it into his hands and flips it back over to the front. Eddie’s embroidered Sawyer Munson in gold to match the back. “He already has a stocking, though.”

“But that’s from a store. This is handmade. Way more special.”

Eddie is so excited, and Steve thinks it’s amazing the time he’s put into it, but one thing is at the front of his mind. Something that he knows Eddie didn’t purposefully ignore.

“Is Rory getting one?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s face falls.

“Shit.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t forget. I swear.”

“It’s okay. Rory has a special stocking so it wasn’t your first thought. I just wanna make sure it is a thought,” Steve says before kissing Eddie’s forehead and walking over to the fridge to get a drink.

Eddie is quiet. The sewing machine doesn’t start back up.

Steve looks over and sees him biting his lip, trying to hold back tears.

“Baby, it’s okay.” Steve walks back to him and pulls him close, holds his head against his stomach and runs his fingers through his hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I don’t want her to feel forgotten,” Eddie admits, voice broken.

It was one of the biggest holdups they had with having a baby. They never wanted Rory to feel like they loved a child they had together more than they loved her. She would always be their first.

“She doesn’t.”

“I asked her for her old socks to make this! What if she thinks I love him more than I love her?”

Steve huffs out a small laugh. “She knows you love her so much. You don’t need to worry, baby. We could grab my old socks and make her one?”

“Could we?” Eddie tilts his head back, looking up at Steve with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Sure. I’ll get them now, but she’ll be dropped off soon so you may wanna wait to make it.”

Eddie nods and hands Steve the stocking he made for Sawyer.

“I’ll clean all this up and then make pancakes for dinner,” Eddie says excitedly.

Steve shakes his head fondly. “Just try to keep it down. Sawyer’s sleep-“ A cry is heard from Sawyer’s nursery and Steve sighs. “Never mind.”

Eddie gives him an apologetic smile, but continues his tasks.

Steve stops at the fireplace before going to Sawyer’s room, hanging up the new stocking and wondering how he got so lucky to have all this love in his home.

[ravenslady]

Five Stages, Two Talons, and a lost little Crow

****Dragon Age Veilguard spoilers AHEAD, read at your own peril ****

>>> 

Follow up scene with Lucanis and Viago – After “Scents and Grief” and the letter This scene is prompted by what was not shown of the companions during the Regret Prison. Viago is a worried older brother, just do not tell him I said so. My Rook is a nonbinary Crow!Mage!Rook but this scene does not necessarily give any descriptions of Rook, other than their name, so you can inject your own into the scene if that helps you.

>>> 

The sound of the room’s double doors slamming woke him from his depressed slumber.  Darkness flooding his sight as he opens his eyes to the still dimness of the wardrobe and with a brief intake, the comforting perfume slips into his nose and settles into his lungs.  The feathers of the blanket brush against his skin and a crumpled parchment clutched in his hand falls to the floor of the wardrobe as he comes back to himself.  Remembrance dawns for a moment, chilling the brief warmth in his chest.  The void of anguish spreads and Lucanis starts to sink back down as his mind fights the web of miserable exhaustion and emptiness, only to remember that the loud sound of the double doors slamming woke him.

“Where the Maker are they!?” booms an angry voice laced with deeply seated fear and worry.  The familiar and irritated lilt of Viago’s voice travels through the stone chamber and bounces off the aquarium glass, barely muffled by the wardrobe doors.

Lucanis cannot seem to muster a mood to deal with Viago in this moment and Spite uses the lack of response from Lucanis to jump to the fore, responding with irritation and unkindness, “GET. OUT!”

Lucanis rolls his eyes, and directs a thought at Spite, thanks for that, pissing off Viago is not the best idea…especially when we failed to tell him what happened to Rook...

Spite seems to catch on this thought and tilts his head, NOT GONE. ROOK IS OURS; WE WILL FIND THEM. ADDER’S MUSTACHE CAN WAIT.

Lucanis goes to respond when the doors of the wardrobe are furiously pulled open, the flood of watery shimmering light from the aquarium casts a tint of greenish-blue into the dark cupboard, an enraged Viago speaking with clipped tones as he attempts to bodily drag Lucanis into the room, “Hiding Dellamorte? Answer me!” Viago is speaking through clenched teeth and the grip he manages on Lucanis’ gear feels like claws dug into flesh.

Lucanis’ emotional reserves may be numbed to the point of oblivion but his instincts are well honed and the hostile way that Viago is demanding Lucanis answer to him allows the cool exterior of indifference to slide into place as the innate need to defend himself and his safety takes hold.  Lucanis surges forward from his nest and uses the offset of Viago’s footing to push up and out of the wardrobe while grabbing the forearms of the raging Fifth Talon.  Viago senses the shift and tries to throw his mass to reorient the balance and allow Lucanis’ sprung energy to overbalance him.  In the same instance Viago attempts to drop his weight, Lucanis anticipates the use of encumbrance for leverage, feeling himself cross the center line and performs a slight spin to disengage, freeing his hands of Viago’s forearms and preparing for a more concerted response.

“Where are they, Dellamorte!?  Where is my…Rook?!” Viago seems to strain to contain an emotional reaction as he yells the final question and Lucanis makes a quick assessment, seeing the always brooding but usually composed Viago breathing irately; a wild look about his features.

Lucanis immediately disengages and holds up his hands, stepping just out of range. “Viago, I…” he responds with a stripe of shame and guilt seeping into his voice.

“Don’t you fucking dare!  Where is Rook?  And don’t you fucking say what you almost said…where is Fae!?” Viago steps forward, pressing the advantage, fear and anger mixing in his voice as he fights for some semblance of control to get an answer. An answer that does not involve apologies.

“They…were…pulled into the Fade…” Lucanis starts to explain, the guilt and the weight of his emotional decline is evident in the way his voice drops in timbre, almost breathy as he forces out words he has not wanted to say.

“And when in damnation were you going to tell me that a member of my House was in the bloody Fade? Were you going to leave me to wait obediently in Treviso without a single word?!” Viago continues to advance, though his shoulders are dropping as if a weight is dragging him past composure.

“We…I do not have answers. They were there…one moment…the next they were not and they cried my…” Lucanis swallows and stops then, unable to say more without losing face. “I was going to come to Treviso to tell you, to tell you to your face.” Lucanis almost pleads, the mask of the assassin’s calm drawing back to reveal a haunted expression.

Spite circles Viago, stalking and observing him. SMELLS LIKE POISONS…AND…ROOK. He seems perplexed by this and tilts his head like a bird, assessing the rumpled look of Viago’s hair and the puffiness of the skin below his eyes. DROWNED IN ANGER AND GRIEF. Spite steps closer at this point, knowing Viago cannot see or hear him.

Spite, back away. Viago is Fae’s teacher, their older brother of sorts. Do not push him. Lucanis mentally tries to pull Spite away from Viago.  Watching the man absorb the response.

Viago sees the strain on Lucanis’ face and the pieces of fragmented information starts to paint a saddened expression of understanding and commiseration, “Who and what do I have to kill to get them back…is there another of these so-called gods that we need to sacrifice to bring them home?” Viago looks directly into Lucanis’ eyes, the wheels of negotiations and plans already churning in his mind.

Lucanis hesitated for a moment, not knowing the right answer and after their little breakdown last night, he was not currently apprised of the battle plans or developments from the rest of the team.  He knew Emmrich had been formulating some theories; Neve as well.  Harding and Taash had immediately started reaching out to their contacts and network.  The loss of Davrin and Assan, and the capture of Bellara had not even been discussed, everyone avoiding the subject all together.  The team had been in shock, disassociated from the reality of their losses when they had mercifully escaped Tearstone Island following the firestorm that Elgar’nan had kicked up in response to the slaying of Ghilan’nain.

Viago looks at him in anticipatory silence, Lucanis shakes off his hesitation and responds with a voice of surety he is certainly not feeling, “Let us go down to the kitchen table, we can put on coffee and discuss with everyone our strategy going forward.” Lucanis steps forward then and places his hand on Viago’s arm, redirecting him with very little effort toward the doors.

“We will get them back Viago. We must.” Lucanis promises, not entirely to Viago, not allowing acceptance of anything less.

WE WILL. Spite affirms, settling into Lucanis with purpose and determination.

[morgana-larkin]

hey! could you write a hurt/comfort with age gap chessy x reader where reader feels like she isnt good enough for chessy because of being younger than her and chessy comforts her? (btw just keep up the awesome work!)

Hi Anon! Sorry this took awhile to write but I finally got it finished! Thank you for the compliment as well!! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I miscounted the amount of Chessy prompts I had, I had 4 instead of 3 but I currently have 2 left and I already started the next one which is a mama bear Chessy! Also I just started my period today so yes there's a good possibility that the next 2 fics shall also have smut in it.

Good Enough

Warnings: Smut, reader has doubt

Words: 4.4k

Hey Y/n, wake up.” You hear and you groan before opening your eyes.

“What?” You ask and Chessy smiles.

“I know you don’t work until 11 but I made breakfast and thought you’d want some.” She tells you and you yawn while you rub your eyes. 

“You made breakfast?” You ask her and she nods.

“There’s some scrambled eggs and toast with your name on it. Made it just how you like it.” She tells you and you smile before you get up.

“What time is it?” You ask her and she looks at her watch. 

“Almost 9.” She says and you stretch before you put your slippers on and stand up. “So I was thinking that since I have to go to the market today anyway, then I can bring you to work.” She says as you’re eating breakfast. “And maybe stop and get a nice cup of coffee from the beautiful barista.” She tells you and you smile.

“I’d like that.” You tell her and she boops your nose before kissing your cheek.

“Alright I’ll drive you to work then and pick you up since your car is here.” She says and you nod.

“Thanks Chess.” You say as you grab her hand and she smiles at you.

“What are girlfriends for?” She says and you smile.

“I still can’t believe we’re together, I thought you’d never be interested in me with our 15 year age difference.” You tell her and she shrugs.

“Age is just a number, as long as you’re older than 20.” She says and then goes to do the dishes. “I still don’t understand why you never just ask for an egg sandwich.” She says as she watches you put scrambled eggs on one piece of toast and then adding the other piece of toast.

“Because you’ll make it differently if I do and I like making it myself.” You tell her and she rolls her eyes before adding all the dishes in the sink.

“Do you want anything else? Or do you have something for your lunch later?” She asks and you think about it.

“I’ll just grab an apple or something at the market.” You tell her and she turns around to look at you.

“An apple? I keep telling you to pack a proper lunch for when you work.” She says and you freeze with your mouth open and the sandwich is right in front of your mouth.

“I just never see the need for a proper lunch. I’ll just have an apple and then have some food when I get home.” You tell her.

“Alright then, what time is your lunch anyway? Do you need to grab an apple before work?” She asks and you think about it. 

“No, I have my lunch break around 3-3:30. And the stalls don’t close until around 5.” You tell her and she nods.

You have a shower and then you get ready for work. You put on your uniform and put your hair in a ponytail. Chessy drives you to work and she walks with you to the coffee shop to make sure you get there safely.

“I’ll see you later?” You tell her once you enter the coffee shop.

“Yep, I’ll pick you up at 7.” She says and you nod before giving her a kiss.

“Oohh, who’s your girlfriend Y/n?” You hear and you turn around to see your coworkers there watching you.

“Chessy, meet Ali and Theo. I work with them on Saturdays and Sundays.” You tell her. Chessy walks up to them and sees their full names on the name tags, Alison and Theodore.

“Hi, I’m Chessy.” She tells them and she smiles at you.

“Wait, Jessie?” Ali says and you snort.

“No, people make that mistake. It’s Chessy, C H E S S Y.” She spells out for them. “Short for Francesca.” She explains and they nod. “It was nice to meet you but I gotta pick some stuff up at the market. Bye hon, love you.” She tells you.

“I love you too.” You tell her and she leaves.

You put your bag in your little cubby in the back before grabbing an apron and they’re both looking at you.

“What?”

“Give us all the juicy details.” Theo tells you and you sigh.

“Don’t know what juicy details you’re expecting. Two girls met at the market, they caught feelings, one asked the other on a date and they’re now in a relationship.” You tell them.

“Give us more than that.” Theo says.

“Like when did you meet? Who asked who out? What’s the age difference? And most importantly, is she good in bed?” Ali asks you. You look at the cafe and see no customers there yet as it’s just before the lunch rush.

“We met 5 months ago and she asked me out 3 months ago. She’s 15 years older than me, and I don’t know, we haven’t had sex yet.” You tell them and their jaws drops.

“You haven’t had sex yet? Are you a prude or something?” Theo asks you.

“No, it’s just that…” You try to say but you stumble and then give up trying.

“It’s just what? Are you not attracted to her?” Ali pushes.

“What? That’s not it, I am very attracted to her. It’s just that…the age difference is making me nervous.” You admit and they look at you and tilt their heads.

“She’s 38 right?” Ali asks and you nod your head. “What’s the problem about the ages? Why does it make you nervous?” She asks and you look at the ground and take a deep breath before answering.

“I feel like I’m not good enough. I mean I’m 23, I’m a barista getting minimum wage. I live in a crappy apartment with a roommate and I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Meanwhile Chessy is a live-in nanny who lives in a beautiful house, gets more than enough per month to live comfortably, never has to worry about money and she knows what she wants and who she is.” You tell them.

“Does Chessy know you feel like this?” Theo asks and you shake your head.

“I don’t know about queers, being the only straight one in this room, but in straight relationships, the two people in said relationship talk about how they feel. They communicate.” Ali says.

“Us queers do it too.” Theo tells Ali. “Just this one is being a chicken.” He adds and then someone walks in. 

The lunch rush starts and the 3 of you don’t have time to talk about anything for an hour.

“Hey Y/n.” You hear and you turn around to give the customer their coffee and you see Chessy is next in line.

“You can serve this one.” Theo says and then he walks away from the register. You walk to the register and you look at her.

“What can I get you?” You ask her with a smile and she looks at the options. 

“Considering it’s my first time here and the barista knows what I like, what do you think I should get?” She asks you and you think about it.

“You can just get black coffee, 2 cream and 2 sugars just how you like.” You say to her and she smiles.

“I’m trying to be adventurous.” She says and you offer a couple suggestions for her to try that she might like and she orders one. She gives you the money and she puts the change in the tip jar while Ali makes the drink. “How’s it going? It’s pretty busy in here.” She tells you as she looks around.

“Ya it starts getting busy around 11:30 as it’s the lunch rush.” You tell her and she nods.

“By the way I wanted to ask you something, is everything alright? It’s just ever since you started visiting the ranch, you’ve been acting different. None of the Parker’s said anything bad, right?” She asks you and you shake your head.

“No, nothing like that, just life things.” You tell her and she nods.

“Ok, well I hope you can come to the ranch tomorrow evening. Chillier night so I was going to get a fire going and maybe we can have a nice hot cocoa together.” She tells you and you smile.

“Yes, of course, I love that plan.” You tell her and then Ali comes with the drink and gives it to Chessy. Chessy takes a sip and smiles.

“What a great recommendation and excellent service.” She says and winks at you. “I’ll see you later hon.” She tells you.

“See you later.” You tell her and then she leaves. “Took longer on making the drink, I see.” You tell her and she smiles.

“I just didn’t rush or ‘make it quick.’” She says and you snort at her impression of some of your customers. You take your first break 45 minutes later and you sit outside and just enjoy watching the market. You go back in and you go through your bag to get your water bottle out and you find a container there that isn’t yours. You open it up and see a peanut butter sandwich there and realised Chessy must have slipped in it while you were showering. 

“Those damn mother instincts of hers.” You mumble out loud.

“Mother instincts of who?” Ali asks you and you hold up the container.

“Chessy secretly packed me lunch after I told her I don’t eat much at work.” You tell her. 

“Awww, that’s so sweet.” She says and you roll your eyes and take a sip from your water bottle.

Chessy walks in exactly at 7 to come drive you back to the ranch. You pack up your things and say goodbye to the evening crew before you head out.

“So I noticed a sandwich in my bag today.” You tell her when she’s driving back.

“Really? That’s so weird.” She says sarcastically and you chuckle.

“Thank you, it was sweet of you.” You tell her and she smiles at you.

“It’s not a problem hon, just helping out my girl.” She tells you and you blush. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep here again?” She asks once you’re back at the ranch and packing up your overnight bag.

“Ya I’m sure.”

“It’s just you said you don’t like your apartment and that my bed is more comfortable.” She tells you, trying to get you to stay over again.

“Well I can’t always stay here, we just started going out 3 months ago. No matter how comfortable you and your bed are.” You say and she smiles shyly.

“I’m comfortable to sleep with?” She asks and you nod.

“You’re very warm which is nice and these…” You say and point to her boobs. “Are very comfortable pillows.” You say and she giggles. “But I have to go home so that we have a chance to miss each other.” You tell her and she strokes your cheek.

“I know, and you’re right. I’ll just miss you.” She says and you kiss her.

“I’ll miss you too.” You tell her and she goes and kisses you again. No one pulls back and you both make out until Chessy moans into the kiss and then you pull back. “I’ll see you tomorrow though and I’ll stay over as I don’t have work on Monday.” You tell her and she smiles and nods.

“I can’t wait until tomorrow night then. You can come straight from work and I'll have dinner ready for you.” She says.

“My hero.” You tell her and then give her a kiss on the cheek before grabbing your bag and walking to the front door. You two kiss one more time and tell each other ‘I love you’ before you go to your car. Chessy watches to make sure you make it to your car safely and then she closes the door when she can’t see your car anymore.

“Things are going well between you two.” Elizabeth tells her from the couch when Chessy walks into the living room.

“They’re going extremely well but I can’t help feeling as if she’s holding back a little.” Chessy tells her.

“How old is she again?” Elizabeth asks as she puts down her book.

“23.” 

“Well she’s at the age where she’s figuring everything out if she hasn’t already. I remember when I was 23, because that’s when I married Nick the first time.” She says and Chessy chuckles. “Just give her some time and she’ll come to you if she needs help with anything.” Elizabeth says to her and Chessy nods. 

“Thanks.” Chessy tells her and then goes to her room.

You go home and enter your apartment building and your roommate is there doing some college work. 

“Nice to see you again, have fun with your girlfriend?” She asks and you nod.

“We didn’t do anything last night, I know that’s what you’re thinking.” You tell her.

“Still haven’t done it? It’s been 3 months. My boyfriend and I did it after a month.” She tells you.

“That’s because you two are very horny.” You say with a smile.

“And you’re not? We have very thin walls, I know what you do most nights.” She says and you roll your eyes. “Is it her that’s holding back or you?” She asks while writing some things down.

“Me, I know she’s ready.” You tell her honestly.

“And why are you holding back?” She asks.

“Because I’m scared. I don’t even know anything about myself and she’s so put together. I don’t even know what she sees in me.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“So it’s still about the age difference, I already told you to talk to her.” She says and you groan.

“I’m scared to talk to her, I mean what if I bring to light things that she didn’t think of about me and then she wants to break up after? Or what if she sees that I’m not the person she thought I was and then leaves?” You tell her and she looks at you.

“You lesbians are so dramatic.” She teases you with.

“Evelyn.” You groan out and she laughs.

“Just talk to her, she’ll either help calm your worries or she’ll end it with you. Either way your worries will disappear.” She says and you look at her.

“Her ending it with me is what I’m worried about.” 

“If she ends it with you then it’s her loss but she seems very into you, well from the 3 times she’s come over here. You honestly hang out more there than you do here. Starting to feel like I’m living by myself and it’s kinda nice.” She tells you and you throw a pillow from the couch at her.

“By the way I’m going there right after work tomorrow and spending the night.” You tell her and she nods.

“Good to know, I can invite my boyfriend over again.” She says with a smile and you sit back on the couch.

“Hey hon.” Chessy says as she lets you in the house. “How was work?” She asks and gives you a kiss.

“Same as always, my coworkers were teasing me again. Because they’ve now met you and keep bombarding me with questions.” You tell her and she giggles. “Theo says you’re a stunner by the way.” 

“Well you can tell him I say thank you.” She says and leads you to the kitchen. “Here’s some soup as the weather is getting colder.” She says and hands you a bowl.

“Thanks, and it’s almost November so I’m not surprised that it's colder.” You tell her and she just leans on the counter and continues the conversation with you as you eat. “Where’s everyone else?” You ask her since you haven’t seen anyone come downstairs at all.

“Hallie and Annie needed help with a project so they’re all upstairs.” She tells you and you nod.

“You’re not helping them?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“I was but they pushed me out of the room as they knew you were coming over.” She tells you and you laugh. “So we got the downstairs to ourselves.” She tells you and you nod. “You’re quiet, normally you like when it’s just the two of us.” She says to you and you nod.

“I do, just something on my mind.” You say as you finish the soup.

“Wanna talk about it?” She asks and you nod.

“I’m ok.” You tell her and fake a smile. She nods before taking your bowl, putting it in the sink for later and then you both go to the couch.

You both begin snuggling until Chessy leans in and starts kissing you. You expected her to pull away like she usually did, but as of lately she hasn’t been pulling away and that’s starting to worry you. She keeps kissing you and then you moan out and you immediately pull away.

“What’s wrong?” She asks and you look at her.

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? It just seems as somethings been bothering you lately and I’ve been trying to wait until you come to me about it but you haven’t.” She tells you and you look down. “You can talk to me about anything.” She says as she lifts your chin up to look at her.

“I know, but I’m scared about talking to you about it.” 

“Why?”

“Because it involves you.” You tell her and she looks at you confused. “We’re both aware of the age difference between us, and I’m trying to act like it doesn’t bother me but it shows all the time.”

“What shows?” She asks.

“The age difference. I have no idea where my life is headed and you have everything figured out.” You admit to her and she gives you a sympathetic look. “I’m a 23 year old barista who gets minimum wage and lives in a crappy apartment and needs a roommate because I can’t afford it by myself.” You tell her. “You’re so together and you live comfortably and never have to worry about money or about where your life is headed as you have it figured out.” You add and she gets you to look at her.

“My life wasn’t always this way, I was hired by Nick and Elizabeth when I was your age to be the live-in nanny when Elizabeth was 7 months pregnant.” She tells you.

“But don’t you want someone who has their life together already?” You ask her and she shakes her head. “I want someone who loves me for who I am.” She tells you. “And you’ll figure out your life, you’re still figuring everything out and I understand that.” 

“I just feel like I’m not good enough for you.” You tell her and she caresses your cheek. 

“You are good enough for me, I love you and I’m willing to stick by you while you figure out what you wanna do.” She says and a tear falls down your cheek. “You’re beautiful, smart and you got a mouth that’s great with comebacks.” She says and then she kisses you. “It’s also great with kisses.” She adds once she pulls back. You lunge forward and kiss her with force and it causes her to fall backwards onto the couch and she takes you with her. “Oomph.” You continue kissing her and she puts her hands in your hair and keeps you close to her.

“Get a room.” You hear and you both look behind you to see Elizabeth and Nick there with a smile on their faces. “Actually Chessy, you have a room upstairs.” Nick says and you look at Chessy before getting off of her. 

“Sorry.” You tell him and then Chessy grabs your hand and quickly brings you to her room. She closes her door and then you immediately kiss her once she turns around.

“Wait wait wait.” Chessy says breathlessly. “If it keeps going then I won’t want to stop.” She tells you and you smile.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You tell her and you see her eyes darken before she goes back to kissing you, then lifts you up and brings you to the bed, all without breaking the kiss.

Chessy wastes no time in taking all your clothes off and kissing and licking all over your body. She makes sure to leave hickeys all over your neck and chest and you know you’ll worry later about how to hide them when you work.

She trails down to your nipples and gives each of them a good amount of attention that you start trying to grind on her and beg, which is probably what she wanted.

“Chessy, please, I need you.” You tell her and she smirks before she places herself between your legs. She wraps her arms around your thighs and brings you closer to her. She then dives in and starts sucking on your clit and the moans and gasps are failing out of your mouth. You grab onto her hair with one hand and the sheets with the other as you feel your orgasm slowly building. Chessy inserts one finger inside of you and you have to bite down on your lip so you don’t scream and let the whole house know what you both are doing. You feel your orgasm is right there and your whole body tenses before you cover your mouth with your hand and feel your orgasm wash all over you. Chessy licks up all your juices before she pulls back then climbs on you until you’re face to face. She kisses you and you taste yourself on her and you moan into the kiss. You then put your hands on her body to feel her and realise she’s still wearing all her clothes and you pull back. “What the hell? Take off your fucking clothes.” You tell her and she laughs before she takes off her sweater, which is followed by her shirt then bra. As you stare at her chest, she takes off her khakis and underwear.

“This more to your liking, hon?” She asks and you nod with a smile. She lays down beside you and wraps an arm around you to cuddle but you want to return the favour. You move closer to her and then you easily find her clit and begin rubbing it. “Y/n.” She moans out and you smile.

“Does that feel good?” You ask her and she quickly nods. 

“Don’t stop…keep going.” She pants and you go faster, causing her to bring your face close to hers so she can kiss you to avoid making any loud noises. “Oh god.” She whines out and you can tell she won’t last long with the way her legs are shaking and that she’s gripping your hair while pulling you in for a kiss. You then feel her body tense up before she gasps into the kiss and then her entire body relaxes. You pull away from her clit and then use the hand to cup her cheek while still kissing her.

“Thank you.” You tell her once you both pull back and she looks at you.

“For the sex?”

“No, well for that as well, but thank you for telling me I’m good enough for you.” You say and she tucks a few strands that are sticking to your face behind your ear.

“I wish you would have told me what was bothering you sooner, hon. I was getting really worried.” She tells you and you look down. “But I’m glad you told me in the end, better late than never.” She adds with a smile. “Wait, is the reason we waited to have sex was because you thought you weren’t good enough for me?” You nod to her question then look down and she cups your cheek. “I’m not mad about having to wait for you, I’m not mad at all.”

“I’ve been wanting to have sex with you for over a month but my fears and doubts kept getting in the way.”

“Hon, promise me that next time something is bothering you, please tell me.” She tells you and you nod.

“I promise.” You tell her and she smiles.

*2 days later*

“You know if you weren’t such a vampire then I wouldn’t have had to wear this awful turtleneck to work.” You tell her as she drives you back to the ranch.

“I didn’t hear any complaints when I was biting your neck.”

“I didn’t have to spend 8 hours in a turtleneck for the past 2 days.” You counter and she smiles.

“Quit complaining, next time you stay overnight just bring your makeup and I’ll cover up any hickeys myself for you.” She tells you as you reach the ranch. “Will I see you friday?” She asks after you gather everything from her room and you nod.

“Yep, can you survive without me for 2 days?” You ask her and she shakes her head.

“I guess we’ll see, and no pleasuring yourself for the next 2 nights.” She says and you gasp.

“What?”

“I want you nice and needy when you come over.” She tells you and you groan.

“Fine.” You say and she smiles then gives you a kiss.”

“Good girl.” 

“Now that’s cheating.” You tell her and she smirks.

“I never said teasing was not allowed.”

“I’ll see you on Friday, I’ll come right over after my shift.” You tell her and she nods before giving you another kiss and then you get in your car. “I love you.”

“I love you too, hon. Remember to call me to let me know you got home safe.” She says and you nod.

“I will.” You say and then close your door and start your car. You walk in through the door of your apartment building and Evelyn is there and she looks up at you.

“And where exactly have you been for 2 days?” She asks and then sees your turtleneck. “Oh, I see.” She says with a smirk and you roll your eyes. “Did you talk to her as well?” She asks as you walk to the phone.

“Yep.” You tell her and then dial Chessy’s number.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta 

@imaginesmultifandoms 

@idonothingalldays-blog 

@sexysapphicshopowner 

@dvrkhcld 

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@ricejucie 

@unicorniusfallapatorius

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Let me know if you want to be added!

[fandombrainrots]

If anyone can find a video/audio that is remotely similar to this, I will animate it

DP x DC crossover where the Justice League finds out about Danny because of a flashmob video going viral.

And by that I mean that Danny, in Phantom form after just finishing a ghost fight, happened to stumble upon a flash mob to a mashup of old movie songs happening in the mall. Kinda just floated there invisibly watching for a bit and then. Ghostbusters song. And Danny just CANNOT resist, turning visible and doing his own lil retro dances above the flash mob, eventually landing and joining in when the choreography matches something he knows.

Multiple people falter a little at his appearance but overall it makes the flashmob like 100 times better.

Anyways someone recorded the flash mob and uploads it with a title like “Retro Flashmob in old mall!!!! Ghostly Small Town Hero joins in?!?!” and the video just ROCKETS into popularity.

One of the batkids happens to find it, and when looking at the comments, finds a pinned comment linked to a petition to get rid of the anti-ecto acts, which of course leads to them finding out what the anti-ecto acts are, and well.

The idea of the kid in the video, who very obviously looked like he was having the time of his life (or after life) having to suffer that from the government is just…. unacceptable. So of course the Justice League gets involved.

Upon confronting Phantom he’s like “????? how’d you find out about me??? as far as I know stuff that happens in Amity Park Stays In Amity Park??”

to which someone bring up his dance moves and Danny just stands there for a second, blank faced, and they only see his face and ears light up green for a second before they blink and he’s GONE

Danny then proceeds to do all that he can to avoid the Justice League because. Earth’s Heroes??? Found out about him through his dancing???? so not cool (in Danny’s opinion)

This becomes all the harder as he keeps getting dragged into having to fight alongside them for multiple disasters.

[sandstimegender]

one of these days ill write a religious coded chuuran fic !!!!

[luveline]

𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

Spencer calls you drunk and in need of rescue. You confess a few secrets to him while he won’t remember them (or so you think). 3k, fem

cw drunk!spencer, mentioned past drug use, confident/bombshell!reader, flirting, spencer getting some well deserved comfort, a handful of his drunken compliments, insecurity, intense mutual pining

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You’re blissfully sleeping in the arms of a REM cycle when your phone rings. It pulls you by the chest, a punch of shock and expectancy at once. It’ll be someone calling you into work, Hotch himself if you’re lucky. 

You search blindly for your phone. If you’re even luckier, it’ll be a wrong number. Your fingers curl around the little body of your phone and you bring it to your ear without checking the number, frazzled. “Hello?” you ask hoarsely. 

Total quiet. 

“Hello?” You pull the screen away. The caller reads: SPENCER. You pull it back rather than hang up. “Hey, Spencer. Are you there?” 

“Hello.” He laughs. “Hello, are you there?” 

“I’m here, Spencer, where are you?” 

“That’s an interesting question, actually, and I���m sure there’s a great answer, but…” 

“But what?” You sit up quickly, your throat aching with sleep. Your room is black as coal pitch. “Spencer, what time is it, my love?” 

“You shouldn’t call me stuff like that.” 

“Stop being weird and tell me where you are.” 

He laughs like a hyena. You can see it in your mind, his smile and all his pearly perfect teeth. You love it when he smiles like that and he rarely ever does. “I’m somewhere and I need your help getting home!” he says with another funny laugh. 

“Are you alright? You sound…” He sounds inebriated. 

Spencer struggled with his drug problem for so long before you found out. You just hadn’t been around enough, and when you were he’d gotten good at hiding it. You can still remember how furious you’d been with everyone, including him, because you could’ve helped, would’ve done anything to support him through it. If he’s hurting now and hasn’t told you, you love him, but you’ll be insanely angry. 

“Spencer?” you ask quietly. 

“I went for drinks with a girl but she didn’t like me and I may have drowned my sorrows too much,” he admits. “Um. Did you know gin is very strong?” 

“Aw, baby. You’re cheating on me?” 

“I’m afraid so,” he says, and hiccups. 

“Where are you?” 

After some hassle wherein you persuade Spencer to give the phone to someone else in the bar for a slightly less drunk interrogation, you dress and gather your bearings for the drive. You zip a hoodie up over your pyjamas, stuff your feet into some old converse, and set out into the dark to find him. 

He calls you again as you’re parking. “Hello,” he says as soon as you answered. “I need you to come and get me.” 

Spencer called you twice to save him. Even if he doesn’t remember, he’s called you to come and get him when he knows he needs help, and that realisation is hard to ignore. “Spencer, I’m two minutes away, I’m parking. You’re still where you were?” 

“Where was I?” 

“At the bar, sweetheart. Are you still there?” It’s scarily dark out and you didn’t grab any sort of defensive measure before you came, which you regret now, climbing out of your car to walk the dimly lit road. The bar glows like a beacon to be followed. 

“Still where?” 

“Did you hit your head?” 

“Not to my knowledge. Though I’m not sure I have much right now. I feel like I’m forgetting everything I’ve ever read, and I’ve read a lot. You know I can read about eighty average length novels in one hour on an e-reader? The buttons make it faster.” 

“You haven’t told me that before.” You shiver against the nighttime winds, footsteps heavy on the grey sidewalk. 

“I’m trying to be more conversational. Emily says it’s not working.” 

“You’re conversational. Isn’t the only condition of being conversational to prompt a conversation? We’re always talking.” 

“…What?” 

You laugh like crazy. “Spencer, you don’t need to change the way you talk.” 

“I annoy people.” 

“You don’t annoy me.” 

You approach the door of the bar, a ramshackle sheet of plywood over what looks to be a glass door. The bar building seems in similar dessaray, with modern features wrecked by scratches and smashed panes. It’s a real dive. Spencer couldn’t have meant to come here. 

You war with both hands to open the door and find yourself faced with a long and empty corridor leading to another door. Worried you’re going to get kidnapped, you bring the phone back to your ear, Spencer’s chatting an immediate greeting. “…telling me I’m doing something wrong without telling me what it is, it’s impossible.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, can you come to the door?” 

“I don’t think I have control of my legs,” he says without inflection. 

“It’s definitely the building with the smashed door?” 

“Yesssss. Are you here?” he asks excitedly. 

“I better not get murdered, Spencer Reid.” 

“Am I in trouble?” 

“How are you even keeping the phone to your ear right now?” 

“I’m on speaker phone. Milly showed me how to do it. Say hi, Milly.” 

“Hi Milly,” a new voice says. 

You rub your eyes with one hand and square your shoulders, prepared to defend yourself if the creepy door leads to a creepier room. 

Spencer is immediately visible from the get go. You open the door on to a rather cosy looking bar, which you’re thinking might be the whole point; wretched exterior, secret attraction. Warm orange light ebbs into the space from sconces and a faux fireplace, while a wrestling match playing from the small TV behind the bar casts brighter light down onto Spencer’s shoulders. He looks out of place, dressed in a white oxford shirt and a suit jacket, his tie loosened and hanging from either side of his neck, compared to the lingering patrons who sit dotted around the room in booths and on barstools. One such patron sits in a plaid shirt and a trucker hat, her hair to her back, thick and dark. 

You hang up the call and put your phone in your pocket. Spencer gasps like he’s been smacked and picks his own phone up from the bar, clicking at buttons with clumsy fingers. “No,” he hums sadly. 

“Spencer,” you say, not wanting to disturb the people spending their sorry-looking night here. “Spencer. Hey, Spence!” 

His phone tips between his fingers. The woman you assume to be Milly catches it and offers it back without looking too far from her beer. 

“Hey,” you say gently, crossing a wide empty space to meet him. The room itself is shaped like a horseshoe, the bar taking up a surprising amount in the centre, and booths and tables placed around it. Spencer’s off of his barstool as you approach, eyes like puppy dog’s, arms extended. “You okay?” you ask. 

You can feel eyes on you both from every angle, but it doesn’t matter, not when Spencer’s falling into your arms (or on to them —he’s surprisingly tall when you aren’t wearing heels). “You alright?” you ask again. 

“You don’t have to be worried, I’m fine.” 

He’s less coordinated in real life than he’d sounded over the phone, his slurring unmissable, his hands like jumping fish as he tries to hug you. It’s weird and straining to take his weight but you do it without complaint. He smells the same, at least, only his cedary cologne is sharpened by the tang of gin on his breath. 

“Thank god you’re here,” he whispers. 

“Why?” you ask, pulling away to check for danger. 

“I missed you.” 

“I missed you too, handsome,” you say, genuine but laying it on thick simultaneously as you ease his head back to cup his cheek. You can’t help yourself. He’s the prettiest man you’ve ever met, and it gets worse every year. 

He frowns at you deeply. “I don’t like first dates.” 

“Then don’t go on them,” you suggest, “you don’t need to until you’re ready.” 

“I’m ready for love,” he says. You pull your lips into a flattened line, unsure of what to say, how to explain that it’s waiting for him, but his chin dips towards his neck and his eyes lock onto your face. “You’re not wearing makeup. God, you’re so pretty.” 

You flinch away from him. “Fuck, Spencer.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not that you don’t look pretty with makeup, but I never see you without it!” 

You’d forgotten you weren’t wearing any. Makeup isn’t a shield, exactly, but you like putting your best foot forward, so to speak. You’ve no clue what you look like tonight, hadn’t managed to look in the mirror, you’d been focused on getting to Spencer before he got lost. You can imagine the puffiness.

Spencer touches your cheek. You let him turn you mostly because he’s surprised you, his eyes roving up and down your face with a fawning curiosity. 

“You’re beautiful. You know that already, but people don’t tell you enough,” he says, his hand falling from your cheek. 

“Spencer,” you say softly, “let’s get you home.” 

You thank Milly for her help and grab Spencer’s bag from the floor to hang on your shoulder. You’d make a joke about how heavy it was if you didn’t think he’d take it from you, and, considering how drunk he is, topple over from the imbalance it provides. His shirt is clammy where you push your hand through his arm to link them, his footsteps wobbly. 

“I didn’t want to go on a date,” he says. 

“Then why did you go?” you ask, helping him over the door jam into the long hallway. 

“I don’t want to be alone forever.” 

“Spencer, you won’t be.” It doesn’t feel like the best time to bring up how much you like him. You’re sure he thinks you’re kidding, doesn’t everybody? Don’t torture him, they say. Don’t toy with him. Every time you flirt with him the team acts like you can’t mean it, and for a while it worked for you; you weren’t in love with Spencer. You weren’t playing with his feelings, but you didn’t love him, and then you joined the team and got to know him, watched him fluster at every comment you made or under any soft looking and realised you could love him. It was easy to fall for him. You liked doing it. But now he’s determined to write your affection off as a joke and going on dates? 

In the morning, when he’s sober, you’ll have to tell him how you feel. Or you could let him find someone more like him… ugh. It’s such a mess. 

You grapple with the size of your feelings for him as he hums and laughs his way down the hall to the glass door. On the street, he squints and straightens his back, fighting to regain his arm from your hold to cover your shoulder instead. “It’s cold,” he says in surprise. “You okay?” 

“I’m fine, I got my jacket. It’s a short walk, come on.”

His arm stops acting as protection and starts to use you for support. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.” 

“Drowning your sorrows is always a terrible idea because it tends to work,” you lament, less scared of the dark with him at your hip, though what protection he might offer is negated by the alcohol. 

“She kind of looked like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes together quickly. “Oh.” 

“I didn’t know she was going to. But she didn’t– she didn’t– it’s hard to talk. She didn’t listen like you do,” he says, lightly slurring, “she just stared at me like everyone used to in high school. Like she could tell there’s something wrong with me.” 

“Spencer, there’s nothing wrong with you.”

“I know,” he says. 

“Do you?” 

“Yes.” He frowns. “No, I don’t know. I don’t feel like there’s something wrong with me,” —his voice turns to a nearly indistinguishable mumble— “but everyone else always does.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.” 

“Is that why you make all your jokes?” 

“What jokes, babe?” 

“Like that! Like babe. It’s funny ‘cos you’d never date me.” 

You’d slow if he weren’t already walking at a snail's pace. “That’s not true. Let’s talk about it in the morning, okay?” 

“I won’t remember to ask you in the morning.” 

“Spencer, you remember everything.” 

He drags his feet. “I wish I wasn’t so weird,” he whines. It’s playful at the forefront but desperate otherwise, and it gives you pause. “I wish I was normal, and you could like me normal.” 

You look down at your hands, panicking, a flash of Is this a good idea? like an alarm in your head as you turn on the sidewalk to face him. He’s looking at you like he’s begging you to disagree with him. 

You’re happy to. 

“Spencer, I like you like this,” you insist loudly. His eyes and all his sweet lashes track the movement of your hand as you touch your chest, and your neck. “You’re not normal, I’m not normal. Do you know how many times I’ve been rejected? Just for being me? I’m too bossy, too outspoken, too– too high maintenance. I've had friends with good intentions tell me I need to lower my standards, need to relax, because otherwise I’m going to end up alone for the rest of my life. I feel alone all the time.”

“But you’re perfect,” he says, puzzled. 

“To you. And you’re perfect to me.” Your hand crawls to the base of your throat. “So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. You think I’d come and get anybody else in the middle of the night dressed like this?” you ask him, gesturing to your ratty pyjamas and your dingy converse. 

“You look so cute,” he says mournfully. 

You roll your eyes. He’s too wasted for this conversation. “Come on, sweetheart. You can think about this too much in the morning. Let’s just get home in one piece.” Physically and emotionally. 

“Can I come home with you?” he asks. 

That had always been the plan. “Ask me nicely and I’ll consider it on the way.” 

— — 

Spencer shuts his eyes, hands itching to clap over his ears as you scratch the head of a spatula across your frying pan. “Is three eggs too many? People usually have two but that’s never enough for me.” 

“I think…” Oh my god the metal screeching is so loud. “You should have as many as you want. You know your body. There’s this study on intuitive eating…” I'm too hungover for this. “Three eggs is better than two.” 

“So you want three?” 

He cannot eat right now. “Yes. Please.” 

Spencer’s half sick with dehydration and half grief. He stayed at your house last night and he was too drunk to be nosy. He slept in your bed. He slept in your bed. He woke up to you at your vanity doing your hair, the nutty smell of hair oil mixed with the heat of the hair tool on high and realised with a start that he’d missed something he thought about all the time. 

You’d tipped your head back to smile at him. “There’s my boy. Sweet dreams?” 

He didn’t dream, but if he had, it would’ve been another agonising wish where you were his girlfriend, or his wife, or just there looking at him with love. He wakes up feeling sick because it isn’t true. And now you’re making him breakfast, humming a tune under your breath, sourdough sizzling under the grill and a shoddily blended avocado sitting in the bowl in front of him. 

You asked him for one thing. He picks up the fork and starts to mash the avocado again. He can’t fight the foreignness of sitting in your kitchen, a gap in his memory. 

He knows he told you about his date, how she looked like you, how she didn’t seem to like him much, but he’s struggling to collect the finer details. Why had you picked him up? He must’ve called you, but you could’ve said no. He remembers thinking you looked beautiful, but he always thinks that. 

The avocado is making him feel sick. 

“Here,” you say, sliding a plate of toast in front of him. “Do you want butter?” 

“I think I'm gonna throw up.” 

“You’re okay.”

“I can’t believe how I acted,” he says, pressing his palms to the hollows of his eyes. 

You turn off the hob. Fat bubbles and pops until it’s cooled. The clock on the wall by the refrigerator ticks incessantly. His slept-in shirt feels too tight despite the undone button. 

“Hey…” You round the island but don’t touch him, your voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He drags his hands down his face. “I can barely remember what I said.” 

“You were really nice to me… told me I looked pretty without my makeup, n’ that I was perfect. You were really nice.” 

Your tone is off. No flirtatiousness, no endless confidence, you sound wistful, like you’re glad he said it. You take the bowl of avocado he’s made a mess with and put it aside with the toast, resting your arm on the counter, and leaning into his space. “Spencer, last night? You didn’t do anything to be embarrassed of. You were nice, and kind. You tried to open the car door for me and you almost lost your eye, but you were fine. You don’t have anything to be worried about, really.”

“But it’s you.” 

“Gonna touch your hair,” you say, giving him enough time to move away as you reach out and rake back his fringe. His heart leaps into his mouth. “You said something last night like that, you know? Do you remember that? You said if you were normal.” You grace the skin beside his eye with the tip of your thumb, your perfume floating his way as you move. “And I said–”

“I’m not normal,” he says, remembering now. 

You’re not normal, I’m not normal, you’d said.

But you’re perfect, he’d said. 

To you. And you’re perfect to me.

“Right. We’re not normal, Spencer Reid, so forget that girl. She didn’t deserve you anyways,” you say. 

You draw a short, silken line down his cheek with the side of your pinky. To be touched so lightly has his stomach in knots —he’s not shocked by the swiftness with which your affection can make a bad situation good again. 

You turn away. “Now we should eat before everything goes cold.” 

He watches your shoulders move, and he remembers one last detail. So don’t say you’re weird like it’s ugly, honey. And don’t think I don’t like you, ‘cos I do. 

The way you’d said it… you couldn’t really mean…

“How’s your appetite? Still feeling sick?” you ask. 

Spencer smiles to himself, the ghost of your touch glowing warm on his cheek. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.” 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!!! please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate anything and it always inspires me to write more<3!! my requests are pretty much always open for bombshell!reader (even though this one strays a bit from their usual story haha) so if you wanna see more let me know❤️

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[hayatoseyepatch]

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Description: Getting kinky with the windbreaker boys. I have so many thoughts about these men and I just needed to get them out of my system. Characters: Toma Hiragi, Ren Kaji, Haruka Sakura, Hayato Suo, & Yamato Endo. Word Count: 2.2k Tags: fem!reader, brat taming, praise, somnophilia, edging, mommy kink, dacryphilia, consent non consent, choking, degradation, oral (fem!receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk.

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a/n: These are more like thirsts than headcannons but oh well. I might expand on some of these eventually and turn them into full fics if I can sit down and commit to it. It the mental illness, innit? Regardless, I hope you enjoyed these little blurbs! Special shout out to @foxyfiction & @to-eden for helping me with the prompts for some of these, you both are amazing. <3

I also have a masterlist now, if you’re interested that could be found : HERE

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Brat Taming

Hiragi had enough of you today, your skirt pulled up high, a constant switch in your hips while on patrol today with the Tamon team. Constantly teasing him, whether it was pulling him into an alley for an impromptu make out session, bending over in front of him letting him catch a glimpse of your already wet panties, or rubbing against his perpetually hard cock as you “just needed to slip past him real quick”. He was patient, tension building throughout the day coming to a fever pitch when you had both made it back to your shared apartment. He was on you in moments, lifting the back of your skirt to lay a harsh lap to you ass. Grabbing a fistful of your hair as he growls in your ear. “ I want you on that bed and I want you completely bare, do you understand?” He releases you hair, watching as you strip for him, climbing on the bed moments after you do.

Grabbing a hold of your cheeks with a rough hand he forces you to look up at him, eyes glazed over with arousal. Squishing your cheeks he props your mouth open, shoving a long digit past your lips. He grins as your mouth instinctively wraps around the digit, pumping the finger in and out of your lips, eyes rolling back as he feels your tongue wrap around the digit. Sucking his teeth as you shoot him a wink as he stuffs a second digit in your mouth. “Such a fucking brat, you know that?” He forces your thighs apart, free hand punctuating his words with a harsh slap to your dripping cunt.

His fingers sliding down, his fist two digits using your saliva that coated them to rub fast smooth circles against the sensitive bud. “Don’t forget your still getting punished baby.” He tsks giving you a sharp toothed grin. “Look at your pretty cunt, clenching around nothing, poor baby.” He coos, leaning down to your ear, lips grazing the shell to whisper. “You’re going to have to come from just my fingers before you can have my cock baby, think you can do that for me, hmm?”

Praise (Receiving)

Kaji had lost his temper once more, today a fight had broken out. One of the members of the opposing gang had harshly grabbed your arm, tugging you against him spitting extremities about the things he plandded to do to you. The words coupled with the fear in your wide eyes had Kaji seeing red. Completely blacking out in a fit of rage, he hated his, he especially hated you seeing him like this. The few times he had lost his temper in front of you, he ran, unable to face you. But not this time, you wouldn’t let him run from you. Grabbing the sleeve of his jacket you were quick to take him back to your apartment, silencing whatever apologies or exasperations with your lips against his.

Walking him backward toward your bedroom you wait for the back of his knees to hit the mattress. Pushing him to sit down as you climb on his lap. Mouths entangling in a heated embrace, clothes being pulled from each others bodies in a rush of passsion. Kaji trails kisses down your exposed body, lips wrapping arount a perked bud taking your nipple into his mouth. You rocked your hips against his, gronaing into the air. Your hands unfaten his pants, and with his help you pull his cock from his pants. You give him a smile, stroking his cheeks, eyes soft with fondness. “You're such a good boy Ren, always so good to me.”

You coo, the praise falling from your lips as you place one more kiss to his lips. Moving to grab him by the base, positioning him at your entrance, the desperate look in his eyes is all the confirmation you need to sink down on his length. You bite your lip, letting out a whimper at the feeling of his thick cock filling you to the brim. You tangle one hand in his hair, pulling lightly on his blonde strands, while the other moves up to his shoulder, nails digging into the skin. Pulling away only far enough to mumble into his lips. “Fuck, Ren.. Feel so good, you fill me up so good baby. I love you so much.”

Somnophillia

You wake feeling something warm between your legs. It isn’t long before your head is thrown back against the pillows you were once sleeping soundly against, voice crying out in pleasure as your boyfriend’s tongue draws slow patterns on your sensitive clit. You look down at him eyes lidded with sleep and now lust. “Haru.. what are you doing?” You mumble, blinking the sleep from your eyes. Between your thighs you can feel his cheeks heat up, a feirce blush on his features. He barely pulls from your cunt, mumbling against your center. “Couldn’t sleep, needed to taste you, ‘m want you so bad.”

He groans, hips rutting into the mattress, desperate for some friction to his aching cock. Any further arguments are silenced by a loud moan erupting from your lips, Sakura licks a fat stripe up your clit brfore reattaching his lips fully to your nub. He eats your cunt with such desperation, as if he needed to conume you to keep air in his lungs. His tongue is soon replaced by the rough pad of his thumb, head ducking lower to slide his tongue inside of your entrance, sliding against the silk walls of your pussy. He groans deep in his throat, the vibrations of the noise only enhancing the pleasure you’re feeling. ”Always taste so fucking good, need more..” He groans, pulling from your center, he slides up your body lips attacking yours with reckless hunger. He slid the material of his boxers down in one swift motion, grabbing himself by the base of his cock, collecting your wetness on the tip of his cock using it to ease himself inside your velvety walls.

He lets out a loud groan as he fully sheaths his cock inside you, head dipping to capture your lips with his own. The kiss is immediately laced with hunger, teeth clashing and tongues dancing in each others mouths. He pulls away, heavy breaths fanning against your lips as he sets a harsh steady pace from the start. “Fuck baby… can’t even sleep without you consuming my thoughts. Need you desperately… constantly.. feel like I’ll lose it if I’m not inside of you.”

Edging/Mommy Kink

You place a delicate kiss to his lips, trailing your kisses down his body until you were situated between his thighs. Looking up at him with hooded eyes from your current position. “You weren't lying baby boy. Look at how hard you are.” You grin, not letting him answer as you gave a few experimental tugs to his cock. Leaning up to lick a fat stripe from his base to his tip, collecting the pre come that had been steadily dripping since you had begun. Pulling away and leaning up once again, you grab his face in your hand, forcing his mouth open before letting your saliva mixed with his precum drip from your mouth to his. Placing a hand over his mouth, you lean down to his ear. “Swallow baby, I want you to taste us.”

You take his shock as an opportunity to lower yourself back down between his legs, swirling your tongue around his sensitive mushroom tip, taking as much as your throat would allow, hollowing your cheeks. Beginning to bob your head up and down on  his cock. Choji tugged at the cloth around his wrists, restraining himself as much as he could to not buck his hips. Failing miserably as his body writhed under yours He cried out as he felt your warm mouth around his cock, tears collecting by the corners of his eyes. Whimpers and cries falling from his lips as he found every ounce of restraint to not let his body betray him. The could in his stomach building once more for what seemed like the umpteenth time that evening. He didn’t want to fuck all of this up and receive punishment even further. “Mommy, please your mouth is so warm… be careful. I dont wanna come.. too soon.”

You grin around him, looking up at him through your lashes, nearly removing yourself from him before plunging back down, taking him until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You do this a few more times before pulling yourself off his cock with a 'pop'. You make your way up his body, getting impatient yourself, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. Straddling his abdomen, right above where he needed you most,  pressing your lips against his in a heated kiss. Desperately trying not to show that you were just as affected by your actions. You grab a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly, effectively separating your lips as you speak against his lips. “Tell mommy what you want baby boy. Go on, use your words I want to hear you.”

Dacryphillia

Each one of your pleas fog his mind with uncontrollable lust. Wram brown irises drowning in it. “So desperate for me already, darling, we havent even begun the main event.” He teases, directly into your ear, as he finally lines the tip of his thick cock with your entrance. Suo had been teasing you for what seemed like hours. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated cunt. Having made you come undone on his fingers and tongue several times, your pussy having felt desperatly empty without his cock filling you. He grins as you whine, his head just barely probing your entrance. “Please, Haya.” You whimper desperate for him to do something, anything, tears blurring your vision as they collected at your lashline.

“Please?” He tiles his head in mocking obliviousness. “Please what princess? Gotta tell me what to do or I cant help you, tell me what is it that you want?” He coos, free hand sliding up your stomach, thumb circling a pert nipple. Grinning he leans down tugging on your earlobe with this teeth, breaths fanning against your ear as he continues to speak. “Want me to fill this pretty pussy up with my cock? Feeling you flutter against me, whimpering out my name from those beautiful lips. Is that what youre asking for my pretty little bunny?”

He grins eyes lithe with mischief as you continue to babble, words coming out in a jumbled mess of pleas and calls of his name. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, desperation for him consuming your entire being. Suo’s hand coming up to caress your cheek. Thumb swiping at the tears that cascaded down your face. “Oh, sweet baby” He purrs, slipping the same thumb past your lips, letting you taste the salty wetness of your tears. “Crying for me already? We’ve barely even started.” He giggles, hips lurching forward, slamming into you to the hilt with one swift movement of his hips. Groaning as your back arches from the bed, eyes rolling back with a scream of his name being forced from your lips. “As much as I’d love to hear you beg for it, ive been waiting for too long for you my princess.~”

Cat and Mouse/CNC

Your breaths come out in heavy pants, your heart racing in your chest, your feet slamming against the grassy terrain as you run as fast as your legs can carry you. The shadow of the figure on your tail looming behind you. You pushed further, weaving in and out of trees to shake your assailant. The dark wooded area was easy to get lost in. You had only paused your running for a moment, attempting to take in your soundings, looking for a route to escape. Attempting to catch your breath, you were sure you had lost him. Just as you were about to turn on your heel and take off once more your eyes shoot wide, feeling fingers of a large hand wrap themselves around your throat. Your attacker using their grip as leverage  to shove you roughly against a tree, the larger figure looms over yours. Tattooed fingers squeezing just enough to make gaining air flow a bit difficult. Lips grazing your ear as he leans down to your height. “Gotcha~”

Endo’s piercing blue eyes lock with yours, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Tongue invading your mouth, free hand coming up to cup your dripping cunt. Fingers circling your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. He smirks against your lips as you moan into his mouth. Pulling from you, he quickly removes your soiled panties, running his finger between your soaked slit. Bringing his finger to his lips taking in the way you taste, moaning around his fingers.

“Fuck doll, you taste so fucking good. Already so fucking wet for me.” He uses his thumb to force your mouth open, spitting a glob of saliva between your parted lips. “Go on babydoll, taste yourself.” He chuckles as you instinctively swallow, turning you in his embrace so your bent over. Flipping up your skirt, he leans back to take all of you in, eyes hungrily wracking over your exposed sex. Parting your folds with a thumb, watching as your entrance contracts around nothing a large grin splits across his face as he lands a harsh slap against your ass. “Gotta remind you who this belongs too huh? This cunt is mine princess.”

═══°∴,*⋅✲════〖✰〗════✲⋅*,∴°═══

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! I already have a part two in mind for this, so keep an eye out. Until then, see you later!

[gloomwitchwrites]

You introduce your husband as your "boyfriend" to annoy them.

Anon! This prompt has me screaming! I really enjoyed writing for this one because it's such a fun idea. Sure, our 141 boys might be a little mad that they aren't being called by their proper title, but you know they'll just love punishing you for it.

I went a little different with this one. Instead of introductions, I made it so that reader is constantly referring to them as "boyfriend" in public settings. Depending on the situation, introductions wouldn't make sense if it was with friends, family, or coworkers because they would likely already know that they're "husband" and not "boyfriend." So i changed it up a bit in that way!

Some of these fall into spicy territory without being descriptive.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, non-descriptive mentions of sex, fade to black, brief dirty talk

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shakes his head and you roll your eyes.

“We can ask someone for help,” you suggest, scanning the massive wall of televisions.

Simon grunts and crosses his arms. “No.”

Sometimes Simon’s stubbornness is cute—even sexy—but right now you’re just annoyed with him. It makes you want to stir up trouble, to cause a little chaos just for the fun of it. Pouting, you turn, eyes narrowing to find an associate of the electronics store. When you spot one near the HDMI cables, you take off, not caring if Simon follows.

“Excuse me.”

The man’s head perks up. “How can I help you?”

You gesture behind you, your hand smacking into Simon’s chest. “My boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” growls Simon, but you ignore him.

“—can’t decide on a television.”

Simon is not your boyfriend. He’s your husband. But he’s being stubborn, not making a decision, and you want out of this store.

Shifting, you place one hand on Simon’s large bicep, grinning like you haven’t done anything at all. Simon’s hand immediately grabs your ass, squeezing hard. A warning. One that you ignore.

“I can help with that,” replies the associate. You glance at the man’s nametag. Jim.

“Thank you so much, Jim.” You lean against Simon, giving Jim your best smile. “Getting this guy to commit to anything is so hard sometimes, ya know?”

Jim makes a noncommittal noise as he walks toward the wall of televisions. You start to follow but Simon’s hold on your ass tightens, keeping you pressed against him. Simon leans down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

You elbow Simon in the side but it’s not hard. He lets go, keeping close to you as the two of you follow Jim over to the televisions. Standing back, you watch with glee as Simon is forced to talk to Jim. You stay out of it, but notice Simon’s gaze switching to you every so often.

You already know what he’s thinking. He’ll likely want to punish you, and sometimes those punishments are so sweet.

Once Simon selects something and the two of you are at the car, there is no safety net. Simon shuts the trunk and then you’re pressed against the car, your body trapped between it and Simon’s massive form.

“Boyfriend?” he accuses.

You shrug. “What do you mean?”

The growl in Simon’s throat comes out a groan. “Get in the car.” He lightly slaps your ass as you open the passenger door.

As you start to slide in, Simon’s hand returns, this time slipping under your skirt to find your thin, lace underwear. He tugs sharply, ripping the fabric.

“Simon!”

He stuffs the underwear into his pocket. “You don’t need these.” You feel your face growing hot.

Simon shuts your car door and walks around the driver’s side, hopping in. He reaches out, placing one large hand on your bare thigh. It roams upward, squeezing, sending a shiver of lust up your body to make your head spin. “When we get home, I’m fucking that boyfriend nonsense right out of you.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“I’m so sorry, but this isn’t what my boyfriend ordered.”

Kyle frowns and glances up from his phone’s screen. That’s your voice he hears, but the term of address isn’t right.

Boyfriend. Not husband, as it fucking should be.

Kyle glances in your direction but you’re not looking at him. You’re smiling sweetly at the barista behind the counter.

“It should be hot. Not iced. I might have messed up. I’m so sorry. I can pay for another.” You raise your hands in a placating gesture but the barista doesn’t appear fazed at all.

“No biggie. Keep that one. Won’t take me more than a minute or two.”

“Thank you so much.” You glance at Kyle, and your smirk tells him all he needs to know.

You’re being a tease. You’re doing this on purpose. The drink order is wrong, and you’re using this as an excuse to poke at him.

Kyle locks his phone and casually slides it into his pocket. Do you think you’re going to annoy him by doing this? Maybe. The little smirk on your face tells him that’s entirely what you have in mind.

But the joke is on you. Doesn’t matter if you refer to him as “boyfriend,” because all it’ll earn you is a punishment.

As the barista slides the new drink across the counter to you, you thank them profusely. “Thank you so much. My boyfriend will really appreciate it.”

The barista only nods and turns back to the espresso machine.

As you approach with the coffee, Kyle gentle removes the drink from your grasp.

“Boyfriend?” he asks, amused.

You shake your head like you have no idea what he’s on about. “What?”

Kyle laughs and snags the other drink from your hand. With shock on your face, he strides up to the counter. “Can you set these aside for us? Be right back.”

They only nod and continue working. Kyle snags your wrist and drags you to the little hallway that curves out around. There are a few private corners in there, and the hallway itself opens up into the nearby bookstore.

Kyle checks the handle on the unisex bathroom. Finding it unlocked, he draws you inside.

“Kyle,” you hiss, but he’s not having any of it.

Kyle engages the lock and presses you up against the door.

“You owe me an apology,” he says.

“For what?” Kyle tuts, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Get on your knees,” he murmurs, undoing his belt buckle with the other hand. “Apologize with that gorgeous mouth of yours.”

John Price

John leans back in his chair, agitation irritating his spine.

House hunting isn’t something he’s particularly excited about. He is happy that it’s with you, his wife, but the tediousness of it all is exhausting to him. John would rather have you select a few places to tour and then be done with it all. Money isn’t the issue. He just wants you to find a place you like and the two of you can go from there.

He’d live in a tent if that’s what you want.

“My boyfriend isn’t all that picky.”

Boyfriend? John is tugged from his inner musings by your voice and that term of address. Boyfriend. Why the fuck would you call him that? John isn’t your boyfriend. He’s your goddamn husband.

You reach out, planting a hand on his thigh. You squeeze softly as you always do when you’re trying to reassure him, but John frowns down at it, and then looks up at you. You’re not looking at him. You’re staring at the realtor, completely ignoring him.

John licks his lips, considering whether to correct you or not, or leaving it up to a simple mistake, but you do it again.

This time, John didn’t mishear you.

Your hand squeezes his thigh again and Price rests his hand over yours. His fingers enclose your palm and he holds firm. You glance at him and John shoots you his best warning look. You don’t even react. Don’t event blink.

No. He’s going to correct you. He is absolutely fucking correcting you.

The realtor pivots the computer monitor. “I think any boyfriend would agree that these are excellent selections.”

That’s fucking it.

Price shoots up from his seat, keeping a tight grip on your hand. “I need to speak with my—” John pauses, swallowing down his annoyance. “Girlfriend. Privately.”

The realtor shrugs, smiling, but John is already turning around, dragging you out the door. Outside, the stuffy, summer air does nothing to soothe his annoyance.

“Boyfriend? Fucking boyfriend?” John crosses his arms over his chest, looming over you.

You shrug. “What’s the problem?”

“Behave yourself,” he says, lowering his voice.

“Or what?” you ask in mock innocence.

So, this is what you want. John understands the moment the words leave your mouth. You’re fucking teasing him. Fine. He’ll make you learn.

“We are gonna go back in, thank the kind woman for her time, and then we’re leaving.”

“No. I want to stay.”

John leans in but he notices the way you glance away from him and back, clearly flustered. “Good girls don’t play games.”

“Funny,” you reply, head tilting slightly. “That as my boyfriend you have any authority over me.”

John pivots, blocking the view of the front door from you. “I will bend you over that bench so fast, wife.”

“You won’t,” you stammer.

John arches an eyebrow and you visibly swallow. “Want to test me?”

You pout, and then playfully shove him in the chest. “You’re terrible.”

As you turn for the door, John grabs your waist pulling you close. “You started it.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“My boyfriend and I are redesigning our bathroom.”

Johnny’s attention splits. The associate showing him floor tiles is a distant thing. He might be talking about the newest ones on the market, but Johnny is no longer interested.

Did he just hear you right? Did you just call him boyfriend?

“That’s wonderful,” comes a reply, and Johnny notes an older woman talking to you near the laminate flooring that mimics wood. “Where is he?”

“Over there,” you wave at him, a smug smile on your face.

Boyfriend? Johnny is your fucking husband.

“Sir?” prompts the hardware store associate. “What do you think of these?”

Johnny grunts. “Fine. We’ll come back.” He waves the man off and starts for you even as you continuously refer to him as your boyfriend.

You’re doing it on purpose. You’re doing it to annoy him.

And it’s fucking working.

Johnny saddles up beside you, snaking his arm around your waist, pulling you taut against him.

“This is the boyfriend,” you begin, smiling.

“Husband,” corrects Johnny, flashing the same devious grin. He holds up his left hand, showing off the simple gold band. “Happily married to this one.”

The older woman’s eyes round.

“She likes to joke,” continues Johnny. “Come on, love. Better get home.”

Johnny easily guides you away. He leans down, whispering. “You little terror.”

“Bite me,” you reply.

“Oh. I will. Everywhere. When we get home.”

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