#i have thought long and hard about this match

[leth-writes]

yandere reader x yandere batfam

SUMMARY: yandere batfam x yandere reader

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST 

Requests are open!

Just thinking of a yandere darling. You’re a little intense, maybe just on the creepy side of protective.

But you’re not very good at it 🙁

You’re stalking them, they’re stalking you as you stalk them, it’s a whole thing.

They honestly might be relieved. They know where you are at all times, they’ve long ago put a tracker on you, but having you always hovering around eases their worries.

Tim definitely hacks the bugs you’ve put on them, making sure you aren’t accidentally catching on to the fact they’re night-time vigilantes.

Overall, though, I can see them LOVING the trackers you try to place on them. You’re so clumsy about it anyone would notice, but they pretend not to, just so your self-esteem doesn’t get hurt.

It’s like a kitten trying to fight a tiger; the tiger’s playing, the kitten is unaware of how bad their odds are.

There’s no way you’d be able to break into the manor by yourself.

They see it as enrichment, they just… leave a single window open, on the ground floor, into a rarely used family room.

Once they catch you planting the bugs all over the room, not even bothering to make your way throughout the rest of the manor, they’ll spend more time in the room, playing up their personas.

Bruce is especially amused; he’s really playing up the ditzy Brucie persona around you, entirely so that he can get close to you without you suspecting he’s onto you.

You’re really protective over him; there’s been times you’ve been gearing up to fight some creep at a gala who won’t leave poor ol’ Brucie alone. 

He doesn’t need your help, he’s working on a case, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy, knowing you’re there. Even if there’s no way you’d actually be able to deal with the types of enemies he has.

You’re like pulling him off to the side, holding his hands in yours and staring at him so determinedly, eyes blazing. “Bruce, don’t be scared to tell me if someone’s bugging you, okay? I’ll handle it.” You tell him. Internally, Bruce is cooing. When he tells the others about it later, in the privacy of the cave, they’ll do the same.

You just think he’s too soft for this world. He needs protection! He thought Mexico was a continent!

He’ll definitely pretend to be super drunk just as an excuse to lean on you, his side pressed to yours and an arm slung around your neck. He loves the way he can feel the heat of your blush.

Dick is much the same way. You’ve signed up for his gymnastics class and you’re so determined to succeed at something he loves that he just can’t help but prioritize you. Some of the other students even complain about how obvious the favoritism is. Don’t be surprised if you miraculously win free 1-on-1 lessons with him. He just loves being able to physically touch and guide you, watching how flustered you get.

Sometimes you slip in a bit of information he knows isn’t really available to the general public, just little things about his time in the circus. It makes him happy to know how much time you’ve spent researching him, even if it is pretty baseline stuff, nothing too deep. He’s just appreciating your hard work!

Jason, you have a hard time with. He doesn’t appear in public often, so you spend most of your time just watching him read in the family room. He knows you’re reading the stuff he picks out, so he deliberately chooses books he thinks you’d like. 

When it comes to Tim, he’s definitely matching your freak. You get a tracker on him, he has 3 on you. He’s discreetly watching you watch him. 

Puts on a show, makes himself seem like any naive rich kid. You’ll never see the true predator until it’s too late.

Definitely fiddles with the trackers in his spare time, he loves being reminded of how much you love him; it plays right into those deep seated insecurities left over from his biological parents.

Damian is definitely the least subtle about it. He’s not gonna pretend to be something he isn’t, and he definitely wants you to step up your game. He’ll smash the trackers until you manage to get it into a satisfactory spot.

He will absolutely refuse to spend much time in the family room; he sees it as too easy. He wants you to work to learn more about him. His past is definitely one of the harder ones to dig up.

Cass can read the desperation on you, and just befriends you. She doesn’t really put up much of an act, and just satisfies your protective instincts by listening to your ‘suggestions’ about how awful her ‘friends’ are. They’re acquaintances at best, so you aren’t really accomplishing much of anything, but she feels it’s the thought that counts.

Just imagine when you’re finally kidnapped, and they’re like Surprise! We knew the whole time!

OH MY GOD THE HUMILIATION

They’re completely different than how you thought they were, and you slowly realize you’ve made a big fucking mistake, but oh well, it’s their turn now!

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1369

Chapter 40:

You all turned to look at Billy, who grabbed his little spell book from his body bag. "At least we have our personal items."

Immediately, you rushed to check your body bags, all bearing similar expressions of relief by being reunited with your pendants.

You wore your own necklace, the light metal cold against your flushing skin, and adrenaline still coursing through your pumping veins. Your fingers gently brushed the three moon phases, and you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath.

Wearing it, somehow, made you feel more secure and safe; a placebo effect that helped calm you down a little more and allow your head to be clearer.

The moment was interrupted, though by the sound of the morgue drawers being pulled back into place, the knocking sound almost startling you.

If that was not enough, the growing lights above you started to flicker before one shut down.

"The countdown," you exclaimed, eyes following the circle formed by the lights; while wondering how quick each light would turn off after the other.

Deep inside your instincts were telling you that the time would not last long, not as long as the other trials.

Agatha noticed that Jen was rather quiet, not panicking like usual. Instead, Agatha swore Jen was actually thinking of something for a change.

"You seem relaxed." She called her out. "Usually, at this point, you're either complaining loudly or freaking out loudly."

Jen gave her a hard look, clearly not in the mood for her annoying antics. "I'm thinking."

"Oh. About what?

"How to save your ass."

"Pardon?"

"I couldn't save Lilia. I didn't even try to save Alice. I'll be damned if I let you three idiots die."

You placed a hand on your waist as you looked at her, clearly not happy being called an Idiot or any of your companions being called that.

However, you held back any remark for the moment. It was the first time you saw Jen actually putting others above herself, when all those trials she had been selfish and the first to go when given the chance.

And considering you once again needed to work together somehow to make it through, this worked in your favour.

Of course, Agatha did not seem to share your thoughts.

"Wow. Such a purpose. How are you gonna do that without any magic?" She questioned, in the mood for an argument.

"Agatha, that's enough," you said, no authority coming from your voice much to your dismay.

Your body was still on edge, and it was taking a lot of mental training to remain calm and try to think of a solution, rather than letting your emotions and your haunting memories get the best of you.

Thankfully, you were not the only one ready to defend Jen.

"Y/N is right!" Billy said, putting his foot down. "She saved you from poisoning. She saved all of us. All while bound." He looked at Jen and offered a weak smile. "Maybe you don't need it."

Jen wanted to believe him, but she had a hard time too. Not that you blamed her. Your magic might be sort of a curse and a blessing to you, but you can not imagine your life without it.

"Well, if that's true, that means I've wasted the last century of my life." Jen commented. "That doctor in Boston didn't take anything from me. I gave it up."

It was then that you all noticed Agatha fidgeting faintly by tuning her fingers together and avoiding eye contact.

Unlike the others, you knew she acted that way when she knew something but refused to tell. Something that actually made her feel guilty, even slightly.

"Ags," you called her out, but she did not look you in the eyes. "You know something," she was about to argue, but you beat her to it. "I know that face and that fidgeting. I know what it means"

Defeated, Agatha started to throw parts of a story that matched Jen's story, and everyone made the connection.

"I didn't know it was you! It was the 1920s. I did the odd spell for bank notes. I don't know. The patriarchy really shelled out to shush a lady. It was bind or burn!" She justified herself, or so she tried.

For Jen was furious finding out the truth, and she had every right to be. With anger blinding her, she rushed to Agatha and even pulled a thick lock of her hair in one strong pull.

Agatha didn't even flinch at the pull, having built quite a pain tolerance thanks to Rio. She didn't even fight when Jen tied her wrists together with that strand of hair.

She might not react to it, but you were about to. No matter what took place back then, seeing Jen ripping out Agatha's hair like that made your protective instincts hit in.

Forgetting your own anxiety caused by the closed room, you were about to move and tackle Jen; having forgotten your powers worked normally.

Billy grabbed you by the waist and kept you back, surprised by your strength, considering he was taller than you and clearly heavier.

"Wait! Wait! Look!" He told you as he kept pulling you away from the two witches. "Yhe unbinding ritual."

This made you stop your fighting and look, realizing he was right. The strand of hair and the wrapped wrists were the basis for the ritual.

Jen was not trying to harm Agatha, you realized. She was trying to break the binds that kept her magic dormant and get back what was sealed away a century ago.

You calmed down, and Billy let you go. He stood right behind you, and the two of you watched as Jen repeated the same mantra again and again.

You hold nothing.

You hold nothing.

You hold nothing.

Each time that phrase was spoken with more power, with mode determination... with more need to work.

Jen's voice cracked, but she kept going, holding on every beat of hope that was left within her... one last chance to get back what was stolen from her.

In the end, it seemed to work based on Jen's expression.

Her face changed from shock to realisation and she could not help but fall on her knees, arms cradled in front of her chest and let out gasps and faint cries of hapiness; pink magic coming alive from her palms.

The sight broke your heart, seeing how Jen truly felt finally having her magic back.

Magic for witches was their essence, their core, and their will to live. It was part of them and having it sealed away, unable to sense it... to recreate this feeling of power and mysticism that existed within...

It was a fate worse than death.

Suddenly, Jen disappeared right in front of your eyes.

"What?" You exclaimed and rubbed your eyes, fearing your mind was playing tricks with you.

"Where did she go?" Billy asked next.

"Out of here," Agatha replied in a soft tone, deep down actually feeling happiness for Jen; capable of actually taking back what she was looking for.

You frowned. "But we are not done with the trials, yet"

Agatha looked at you, her gaze softening. "She is done with it. Her trial has already passed, and she got what she wanted."

You felt the need to argue but stopped yourself. The Road was a place unknown, and not even you or Agatha or Rio knew much about it. Each time it worked differently, each time seemed to make up something new.

So, who says the trials were not shortened? Or perhaps, it was giving a chance for some to find what they are looking for and be free without having to finish the road.

This was a comforting thought, deep down wanting to end this and get out.

The fact remained, though, how were you going to find what you are looking for? When you pretty much had nothing to work with and unlike Jen; there was no binding whatsoever that could be broken.

Chapter 41

[littlestarbigsky]

been thinking long and hard abt soda and what it did to him to drop out of high school (i also feel bad bc somehow the only fics i have abt soda are all ships and i know i can do better for my boy)

so here’s a quick lil thing abt darry and soda after soda dropped out :p

darry couldn’t remember the last time soda had been this upset. even after their parents died, there were moments when the gang was all together and soda could laugh and feel the littlest bit normal again, but this felt like it was never going to end, and there was no reprieve. there was no end in sight, and darry couldn’t do anything to help him.

his grades had been going downhill for a while. it wasn’t his fault, or at least not entirely. it had been years since soda had done alright in school on his own instead of barely scraping by, and at some point the class had left him behind and it was like they started speaking another language.

and then their parents died.

soda already had enough trouble missing one day of school, let alone missing a week while they tried to throw together a funeral.

a month after their parents had died, after far too many nights at the kitchen table crying over math homework, after screaming matches that shook the roof over his grades, after darry had yelled so many times about how failing out of school was a surefire way to get them sent to a boy’s home, soda finally said that he was dropping out of school.

he could barely leave his room after telling darry, he couldn’t even tell ponyboy himself. he didn’t know what to do with himself, battling with his own mind every hour of the day. thoughts bouncing around his head of feeling like a failure for not even being able to graduate high school, bullying himself over not being able to joke around about it or making other people happy, which felt like maybe the only thing he was good at anymore. he knew that he was going to fail out eventually, so what was the point?

“soda?” darry cracked the door open, his eyes landing on his little brother where he had been for the last three days: curled up in bed, his back to the door. “do you want some dinner?”

soda silently shook his head.

darry sighed, “you can’t stay in here, forever, pepsi. we miss you out there.”

soda didn’t give much of a response, just gave a half hearted shrug.

“listen,” darry let himself into the room, sitting down on the bed and bringing a hand up to rub soda’s back. “i know you feel lousy, and i know you’ve got a lot on your mind, but you’ve gotta get back to living, soda. you’ve just gotta. we couldn’t get along without you.”

soda rolled over and sat up, and darry had to swallow a gasp at the state of his brother. soda’s eyes were rubbed raw and angry red from crying with deep shadows stamped under them, his hair was sticking up at all angles from the grease he hadn’t washed out in days, and his clothes were wrinkled and hanging loosely off of him.

“soda…”

darry could hardly get the word out before soda had thrown himself at his big brother, tears starting up again. god, he was so tired of crying.

“i’m so sorry,” he cried miserably, clutching to darry with everything he had in him.

darry felt the tears hit his shoulder and his heart ached for his little brother, “i know, i ain’t mad at you, honey.”

“mom and dad just wanted me to graduate and i couldn’t even do that! how am i supposed to do anything if i can’t do that?” soda sobbed.

“they’re not mad at you either, baby, don’t say that,” darry could feel tears prickling in his own eyes.

“listen, i don’t care if you’re lyin’ to me,” soda leaned back, his eyes not meeting darry’s. “but can you please tell me it’s gonna be okay.”

darry felt like he had missed a step going down stairs with the way the words made his stomach drop. he grabbed soda’s face in his hands and forced his brother to look at him.

“it’s gonna be okay, baby. i don’t know when and i don’t know how but i promise you, we’re gonna be okay. i’m gonna make sure we are.”

he wasn’t sure soda believed him, and maybe he didn’t even fully believe himself, but he had made a promise, and he had every intention of making good on it. some of the tension soda had been holding in his shoulders seemed to melt away, and darry knew he would be okay with saying everything over and over again if it meant soda didn’t have to be so scared.

“thank you… i know you hate lying to us.”

“i wasn’t lying.”

[emjayewrites]

fouled by fate • aurelien tchouameni (10/10)

SYNOPSIS: Aurélien Tchouaméni, one of football’s rising stars, is used to navigating the pressures of the pitch—but nothing could prepare him for an arranged marriage. With his family’s legacy and cultural traditions at stake, Aurélien reluctantly agrees to marry a woman he barely knows. But as they’re thrust into the public eye, sparks fly in unexpected ways. The two must navigate the complexities of love, duty, and fame, all while figuring out if they’re playing on the same team—or if their hearts are destined for different paths.

PAIRINGS: Aurélien Tchouaméni x Zuri Awanto Nchang (faceclaim Samira Ahmed @/iamsamiira)

WARNINGS: cursing, football b.s., dry humor/wit, slight arguing, friends to lovers, instant attraction, angst, eventual smut (18+/minors dni)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @perfecttrashface @2serenity0 @muglermami @sucredreamer @julescpu @azzurvertz @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @bbgkoo @lottins-only @pepfectionary @peyiswriting @rosiesdior @yeea-nah @kj77 @imjustheretomanifest @judesvirtual

A/N: Next is the epilogue! Can you believe that this series is over?!!! I love writing about Aurelien and ZuZu, especially ZuZu because I struggle with my own issues with my father. Thank you so much for the love, support, and reblogs/comments. This chapter is fairly long and wraps up some loose ends (around 10K).

The fluorescent lights in the lawyer’s office buzzed quietly, a dull background noise that did nothing to calm Zuri’s frazzled nerves. She sat beside Aurélien, her hand resting in his as they listened to the lawyer explain the options. Words like restraining order and legal protection felt surreal, as if they belonged in someone else’s story, not hers. Filing something so drastic against her own father sounded insane. Yet, given everything he had done—from pushing her into an unwanted arranged marriage to weaponizing the police for a wellness check—it was beginning to feel necessary.

Zuri twisted her pendant necklace absentmindedly, her thoughts a tangled web of what-ifs. She glanced at Aurélien, whose jaw was set in a hard line. Even with his calm exterior, she could see the tension in his shoulders. He was angry, protective, and fiercely committed to shielding her from harm. It was a stark contrast to how they’d started—two strangers thrown together, expected to play house because of family politics.

But now? Now she couldn’t imagine a life without him.

Her stomach twisted as the lawyer outlined the legal proceedings they could take. Aurélien’s father had been speaking with the elders, trying to persuade them to end the arrangement entirely. The idea of the engagement being dissolved should have brought her relief, but instead, it filled her with dread. She didn’t want to be forced into anything, but being with Aurélien was no longer an obligation. It was a choice she made every day. The thought of their bond being broken felt like a knife twisting in her heart.

Aurélien squeezed her hand, pulling her back into the present. "We’ll figure this out," he said softly, his voice a comforting anchor in the chaos. She nodded, trying to believe him, even as anxiety gnawed at the edges of her resolve.

_______________________________________________

That weekend, Real Madrid faced off against Atlético in a match that left fans on edge. Normally, Zuri would be there, cheering for Aurélien from the stands, but today she stayed home. She couldn’t bring herself to face the crowd, the cameras, or the stress of pretending that everything was fine when her world felt like it was teetering on the edge of collapse.

Instead, she curled up on the sofa, tears slipping down her cheeks. The house felt empty without him, the silence amplifying the echo of her doubts. What if the elders did end their engagement? Would she be sent back to New York, forced to return to the life she’d left behind? And what would become of her and Aurélien? They hadn’t even discussed what it would mean for their future.

The front door clicked open, and she quickly wiped her tears away, but Aurélien noticed anyway. He dropped his bag and crossed the room in seconds, pulling her into his arms. "Mon cœur, what’s wrong?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. The match had ended in a frustrating draw, but the game felt insignificant compared to the sight of Zuri crying.

She leaned into him, her fingers clutching his shirt. "I’m scared," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "What if the elders break off our engagement? What happens then? Do I go back home? Do we just… end?"

Aurélien cupped her face in his hands, his eyes locking onto hers. "No," he said firmly. "You’re not leaving, Zuri. I don’t care what the elders decide. I love you, and I would never ask you to move out. This is your home too."

Tears welled up again, but this time they weren’t from fear. "But what if… what if we don’t survive this? What if it’s too much?"

He shook his head, his gaze unwavering. "We’re not breaking up. Do you hear me?" His voice softened, but the conviction remained. "You’re mine, and I’m yours. We’ll work through this, no matter what."

Zuri’s heart ached with the love she felt for him, even as uncertainty loomed over them like a dark cloud. She pressed her forehead against his, drawing strength from his determination. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he replied, kissing her as if he could kiss away all her worries.

The kiss deepened, heat spreading between them as Zuri moaned softly into Aurélien’s mouth. Her hands moved up to tangle in his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned, his grip on her waist tightening. As the kiss grew more urgent, Zuri’s fingers slid down to the hem of his shirt, slipping underneath to feel the hard planes of his stomach. Aurélien pulled back slightly, his breath ragged, and stared at her with darkened eyes.

"You're too emotional right now, chérie," he murmured, his voice a husky warning.

Zuri looked at him, her pupils dilated with need. "But Aurélien—"

He shook his head. "No. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this."

Her lips parted, a frustrated sigh escaping. "I want this, Aurélien. I want you… please… I need you right now." Her voice wavered with desperation, and they found themselves in a stalemate, gazing at each other, the air between them crackling.

Aurélien let out an exasperated groan, his resolve slipping. He crushed his mouth against hers, one arm wrapping around her waist to lower her onto the rug. He paused just long enough to ask, "Where’s Zeus?"

"In his crate," Zuri answered, her voice breaking into a breathy moan as Aurélien pressed kisses along the column of her neck, his lips and tongue worshipping her sensitive skin.

"Good girl," he praised, his voice a deep rumble. His hands slid under her tank top, lifting it up and over her head to reveal her pierced nipples. His eyes darkened with desire. "I love these piercings so fuckin’ much," he murmured before capturing one of her hardened buds in his mouth. Zuri arched her back, her moans growing louder as he teased her breasts, his tongue swirling around the metal and his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh.

Aurélien lingered there, sucking and nibbling until she was trembling beneath him, then he sat back on his haunches to yank off his t-shirt. Zuri, her body alight with anticipation, wasted no time pulling down her shorts and panties in one swift motion. Her eyes traced the muscles of his chest as he removed his basketball shorts and boxers, his erection springing free.

He leaned forward, his fingers slipping between her thighs, teasing her slick folds. Zuri let out a cry, her hips bucking as he rubbed her clit in slow, torturous circles. She was panting, breathless, her body begging for more. Aurélien smirked, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his mouth, tasting her.

Zuri reached out to grab his arm as he began to stand. "Where are you going?" she asked, her voice almost a whine.

"To get a condom," he said.

"No." Her hand tightened on his arm.

"No?" he echoed, one eyebrow arched in confusion.

"It’s fine, Aurélien," she insisted, her voice husky with desire.

His expression grew serious. "ZuZu, we’ve been playing around too much to—"

"Please…" She looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "Just pull out."

Aurélien scoffed, mildly irritated. "I can barely pull out, Zu."

"Then don’t," she whispered, her voice sultry and tempting. "We can get a Plan B tomorrow."

He sucked his teeth, clearly conflicted, but the way she was looking at him made it hard to say no. He let out a long breath, finally relenting. "You’re risking it," he muttered, though his body betrayed his mind.

Zuri smiled, tugging him back down on top of her. "Please," she whispered again, her voice a soft, irresistible plea.

Aurélien shook his head but didn’t refuse. Instead, he grabbed one of her legs, wrapping it around his waist as he positioned himself. With a slow thrust, he slid inside her, and Zuri’s moan filled the room. He stilled for a moment, savoring the sensation of being buried so deeply in her warmth, then began to move, each stroke more forceful than the last.

They moved together, their bodies in perfect sync, Zuri’s nails raking down his back as he drove her to the brink of pleasure. "Merde," Aurélien grunted, the heat coiling low in his stomach as he fought to hold back. But Zuri’s whispered pleas and the way she clenched around him made it impossible to resist.

His thrusts grew erratic, his breath heavy in her ear. Zuri’s cries echoed in the room as she shattered around him, her body shuddering with pleasure. Aurélien followed moments later, his release crashing over him as he spilled inside her, a hoarse “Fuck,” escaping his lips.

They stayed tangled together on the rug, their bodies slick with sweat, chests heaving as they came down from the high. Aurélien pressed his forehead against hers, his hands cradling her face. "I love you so much," he murmured, the words a raw confession.

______________________________________________

Their moment of solace was shattered a day later when the news broke. A sleazy tabloid published an article about the police visiting Aurélien’s home. The headline screamed accusations, twisting the narrative to make him look like a potential abuser. It was a deliberate leak, and they both knew who was behind it.

Aurélien was furious, his hands clenching into fists as he paced the living room. "This could ruin me," he muttered, his voice tight with rage. "My reputation, my career… all because of your father."

Zuri’s heart ached with guilt and helplessness. "I’m so sorry," she whispered, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on them.

He stopped and pulled her into his arms, his touch fierce but loving. "This isn’t your fault," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "We’ll fix this."

Luckily, Real Madrid’s PR team acted swiftly, putting out a statement that dismissed the rumors as baseless and emphasizing Aurélien’s clean record. They worked to discredit the tabloid, and within hours, the story was contained. But the damage had been done, and the anxiety lingered.

"We need to settle this," Aurélien said, his voice low and determined. "In New York."

Zuri nodded, her heart pounding. The idea of confronting her father on his home turf was terrifying, but she knew it was inevitable. They couldn’t keep living under his shadow, waiting for the next blow to fall.

"I’ll do whatever it takes," she said, her voice steady. "I just want us to be free."

Aurélien wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. "We will be," he promised, pressing a kiss to her hair. "No matter what it takes."

Time passed in a blur of stress and determination. Real Madrid’s loss to LOSC was a bitter pill to swallow, leaving Aurélien and his teammates deflated. Their subsequent win against Villarreal lifted spirits somewhat, but for Aurélien, nothing could fully shift his focus from the personal battle he and Zuri were waging. With the next few days off, he was determined to resolve things once and for all.

The situation had only intensified when the tabloid article sparked a wave of hateful comments online. Trolls attacked Aurélien, accusing him of being a disappointment both on and off the pitch. "He sucks on the field, and clearly sucks as a person too," one cruel comment read. Another mocked Zuri, calling her a "gold-digger" and blaming her for his supposed downfall. Both of them issued statements on Instagram, Zuri declaring, "The truth will always prevail," while Aurélien reassured his followers, “I’m grateful for those who support me. Don’t believe everything you read.”

For every hateful remark, there were words of love and encouragement. Friends like Cama and Jude publicly defended him, and his family members flooded his DMs with reassurances. Zuri’s fans offered heartfelt support, reminding her that she was resilient and loved. The kindness helped soften the sting, but the wound of the smear campaign remained.

Preparing for their trip to New York felt both like gearing up for battle and heading into an unknown abyss. Aurélien handed Zeus over to Hugo, who had promised to take good care of the dog while they were gone. As they drove to the airport, Aurélien looked out at the fading Madrid skyline and wished, for a moment, that they were traveling to New York under happier circumstances.

"Fall’s my favorite season," he murmured, glancing at Zuri as she looked out the window. The thought twisted his heart, the usual joy he felt seeing the autumn leaves in Central Park or catching a Giants or Knicks game was replaced with dread.

Zuri reached over and took his hand. "Maybe next time," she whispered, trying to give him a small smile, but he could see the anxiety shadowing her expression.

The airport was a blur of security checks and baggage drops. They boarded their flight, and Zuri leaned into Aurélien’s shoulder, her nerves finally calming as the plane lifted into the sky. He traced soothing circles on the back of her hand, trying to project the confidence he only half felt. They napped fitfully, sharing whispered words and squeezing each other’s hands during moments of turbulence. The hours dragged on, heavy with anticipation.

LaGuardia greeted them with the usual chaos. As they exited the terminal, Malik waited near the baggage claim, his expression tense. "I can’t believe it’s come to this," he said, pulling his sister into a hug. His fury toward their father was palpable. "We need to end this, once and for all."

Malik drove them through the familiar streets of Brooklyn, eventually pulling up to their hotel. "I’ll be there tomorrow," he promised. "After church. And hey…" His expression brightened with a hint of excitement. "I have some good news. I’m finally proposing to Brynn."

Zuri’s face lit up, a burst of genuine happiness piercing the cloud of their worries. "Malik, oh my God! It’s about time!" she exclaimed, hugging her brother. Malik grinned, the love between siblings a comforting reminder of simpler times.

"You better be there for the engagement party," Malik teased, though there was real hope in his voice. He left them in front of the hotel, and Aurélien gathered their luggage as they headed up to their room, his arm slung protectively around Zuri’s shoulders.

"Tomorrow," she whispered, her fingers lacing through his. "We deal with everything tomorrow."

Aurélien nodded, his jaw set with determination. "Together," he affirmed, guiding her into their room. The world might have felt heavy around them, but for now, they found solace in each other’s presence, ready for whatever came next.

______________________________________________

The morning sun filtered softly through the hotel curtains, casting golden patches on the sheets. Aurélien opened his eyes to find Zuri curled into his side, her steady breathing a momentary reprieve from the storm that awaited them. He brushed a gentle kiss across her temple, and she stirred, blinking up at him.

"Morning," she whispered, her voice hoarse with sleep.

He managed a small smile, though his chest was tight with anticipation. "Morning, mon cœur."

They shared a quiet breakfast, the clatter of utensils against porcelain too loud in the otherwise hushed hotel suite. The conversation was light, almost forced, as they both tried to keep their minds from what lay ahead. Aurélien fiddled with his phone, glancing at messages from friends and teammates who had checked in, offering support without prying.

Zuri put down her fork, her fingers trembling slightly. "We should get going."

He nodded, swallowing down his nerves, and followed her out of the room. The car ride was filled with a heavy silence, each of them lost in thought. The neighborhood they pulled into felt both familiar and foreign. It was the one Zuri had grown up in, a small community in Brooklyn that housed many African immigrant families. Children played on the sidewalks, their laughter a stark contrast to the tension mounting in Aurélien’s chest.

"That’s his car," Zuri pointed out, her voice tight as she gestured toward the driveway of her parents’ modest home. Her father’s navy sedan was parked haphazardly, a testament to his usual disregard for anyone but himself. Aurélien’s gaze shifted down the street, where Malik’s Prius sat a few houses away.

"Malik's here too," Aurélien murmured, his voice grave.

Hand in hand, they approached the front door, but even from the porch, raised voices were unmistakable. The deep, rumbling timbre of Malik’s anger was met with their father’s harsh retorts. Zuri paused, her heart in her throat. "They’re already at it," she said, trying to steel herself.

She knocked, first gently, then harder when there was no response. After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open, revealing Zuri’s mother. The woman’s face was drawn, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "My angel," she whispered, her voice cracking as she pulled Zuri into a fierce hug, kissing both her cheeks.

"Hi, Mama," Zuri managed, though she felt her own tears threatening. Her mother clung to her, looking her over with a mixture of relief and worry. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice wavering as she noticed the way her mother’s hands skimmed her arms and shoulders, searching for something.

"I have to make sure you’re not hurt," her mother replied, glancing over at Aurélien. The hurt in her eyes cut deep, but Aurélien stepped forward, his jaw set.

"Je ne ferais jamais de mal à Zuri, (I would never hurt Zuri.)" he said, his voice low and determined. The words felt inadequate – how could he explain that hurting Zuri would be like tearing out his own heart?

Her mother’s eyes widened slightly, and she finally stepped aside. "Come in," she murmured.

The living room was tense with energy. Malik stood with his fists clenched at his sides, his face flushed with anger. Zuri’s father, Ernest, glared at him, his jaw working furiously. The argument screeched to a halt when Ernest noticed Zuri and Aurélien entering.

"What is this?" Ernest demanded, his eyes narrowing. "A setup?"

Aurélien stepped forward, his eyes darkening. "Maybe it is," he said, his voice cold. "You deserve more than just a punch to the face for everything you’ve done." Zuri’s mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. The threat was palpable, and Aurélien’s usual calm demeanor was nowhere to be seen. "Vous essayez de ruiner ma carrière avec vos mensonges, et vous ne recevrez pas cette voiture. Laissez Zuri tranquille, ou nous prendrons une ordonnance restrictive." (You’re trying to ruin my career with your lies, and you’re not getting that car. Leave Zuri alone, or we’ll get a restraining order.)

Zuri stood there, barely keeping up with the French exchange, but she could sense the raw anger emanating from Aurélien.

Her father turned to her, his face twisted with disbelief. "A restraining order? Against your own father?" he spat, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Yes," Zuri said, her voice steadier than she felt. "This is ridiculous, and you know it. You’ve gone too far." She turned to her mother, pain flashing in her eyes. "And you, Mama. You just… stand by and let him do this?"

Her mother looked stricken, but before she could answer, Ernest barked a harsh laugh. "You dare speak to me like this?!" he demanded. "You’re an ungrateful daughter, abandoning your family when we need you the most."

Zuri’s eyes hardened, her voice breaking only slightly. "The only one ruining this family is you, Papa. You’re acting like a spoiled child."

Ernest’s face enraged, and he took a step forward, but Aurélien and Zuri’s mother both stepped in front of him. Aurélien’s fists clenched at his sides, and he took a protective stance. Ernest clicked his tongue in annoyance, glaring at his daughter. "You’re supposed to take care of your family," he sneered. "You owe us."

Malik stepped forward, his own anger flaring. "No, Papa. You’re the one in the wrong. We’ve already notified the elders about what you’ve been doing, and they’re ashamed of you. Trying to ruin your daughter’s marriage out of greed? It’s disgusting."

The words hit their father like a punch, but he continued to argue, refusing to see reason. Aurélien had had enough. He stepped closer, his voice dangerously calm. "Je vais déposer une lettre de cessation et d'abstention contre vous, et nous allons vous poursuivre en diffamation." (I’m filing a cease and desist letter against you, and we will be suing for defamation.)

Zuri’s mother’s face crumpled, and she fell to her knees, grabbing Aurélien’s hand. "S'il vous plaît, ne faites pas ça," she begged. (Please, don’t do that.) "Ernest va s'excuser." (Ernest will apologize.) She turned to her husband, desperation in her eyes. "Ernest! Excuse-toi maintenant!" (Ernest! Apologize now!)

Ernest’s mouth set into a stubborn line, his arms crossed over his chest. He refused to look at anyone. "Ernest!" Zuri’s mother screamed, but he only shook his head in defiance.

Zuri’s heart ached but she remained resolute. "Fine. We’ll get that restraining order. I’m done letting you mess up my life."

Malik sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Don’t speak to me ever again, Papa," he said, his voice low but steady. He turned to his mother, his heart breaking for her. "Mama, when you’re ready to leave him, I’ll be there for you. But that’s it."

With that, Malik, Zuri, and Aurélien walked out, the door closing behind them with a finality that felt like the end of an era. Malik lingered outside, speaking quietly with his sister and Aurélien. "I’ll check in tomorrow," he promised. "Just… stay safe."

Aurélien nodded, and Malik gave them both a hug before getting into his car and driving away. As Zuri and Aurélien moved to their rental, Zuri’s mother came rushing out, calling her name.

Zuri turned, tears streaming down her face as her mother wrapped her in a fierce embrace. "I’m so sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I should have believed you. Are you… are you really happy in Madrid?"

Zuri’s tears fell harder, but she managed a smile. "I love it there, Mama. I love him."

Her mother turned to Aurélien, her expression softening. "Thank you for loving her," she said quietly. "And for taking care of her."

Aurélien nodded, his own voice thick. "I love her more than anything."

Zuri hugged her mother one last time, the weight of everything crashing down around them. It was time to leave, time to protect their future. As they pulled away, tears streaming down both their faces, they knew things would never be the same.

But for now, they had each other—and that was enough.

one week later...

The celebratory energy buzzed through the streets of Budapest, where Les Bleus had secured a commanding 4-1 victory against Israel. The sky was painted in a gradient of orange and purple hues as Zuri walked alongside Aurélien toward a chic riverside restaurant. She adjusted her black satin blouse, the soft fabric brushing against her skin, while Aurélien's hand lingered protectively on the small of her back. His proud captain's armband from the game was now tucked in his pocket, but he radiated the honor of leading his team to a victorious match.

Inside the cozy, modern restaurant, Aurélien's family had gathered, beaming with pride. Anne-Maïsha and Yannis, Aurélien's younger siblings, chatted animatedly, while Josette and Fernand Tchouaméni exchanged loving smiles. Zuri could feel the warm familial atmosphere enveloping her, though a hint of apprehension still lingered in her chest. The matter of her father and the arrangement wasn’t quite behind them, and she knew tonight's dinner conversation would inevitably circle back to it.

As they took their seats, conversation naturally flowed in French. Zuri listened intently, trying to catch as many words as she could. Thanks to her new tutor, her comprehension had improved, and the cadence of the language no longer felt entirely foreign. She leaned in, picking up bits of jokes from Yannis and Anne-Maïsha, and smiled.

Anne-Maïsha, who's twenty, glanced at Zuri. "Tu comprends ce qu'on dit, Zuri?" (Do you understand what we're saying, Zuri?)

Zuri laughed lightly, her fingers playing with the gold bracelet on her wrist. "Un peu," she replied, causing Anne-Maïsha to let out a chuckle.

Aurélien grinned and placed his hand over Zuri's. "Alright, let's switch to English so my fiancée can join in properly," he announced. The table complied, albeit with some groaning from Yannis.

Josette looked radiant, her eyes full of maternal pride. "Aurélien, you were incredible on the pitch today. We couldn't be prouder," she said, her gaze warm. Fernand nodded in agreement.

"Thank you, Mama, Papa," Aurélien responded, humility in his smile. "It felt good to lead the team."

Zuri observed the exchange, feeling a pang of longing. How different it was from the strained relationships within her own family. But she pushed those thoughts away as Josette turned to her.

"And how have things been for you, Zuri?" Josette asked. "We know you've both been dealing with so much."

Zuri met Aurélien's eyes, the silent support in his gaze giving her courage. "It's been… complicated," she admitted, choosing her words carefully. "The elders back in Cameroon are very upset with my father. They've left the decision to us about whether to continue the arrangement or end it, but they do support Aurélien and me staying together."

Fernand’s brow furrowed. "I’m surprised they’re still encouraging the arrangement. Ernest has done a lot to undermine this, even if it was born out of his greed."

Aurélien sat up straighter, his expression unwavering. "Papa, I understand your surprise. But Zuri and I have agreed that we want to continue this, on our terms. It’s no longer about family duty or arrangements. We’re choosing this for ourselves."

Fernand’s eyes widened slightly. "You wish to stay together, despite everything?"

Aurélien nodded, and his grip on Zuri’s hand tightened ever so slightly. "Yes. We’re building something real and worth fighting for."

Josette’s face softened, a bright smile spreading across her lips. "That makes me so happy," she said. She reached for Zuri's free hand. "I always hoped you'd find happiness together. Love that comes from choice is the strongest bond of all."

Anne-Maïsha's eyes sparkled with delight. "Yay! I'm getting a sister," she said, clapping her hands. "Can we go shopping tomorrow, Zuri?"

Zuri giggled, feeling lighter. "I'd love that, Anne-Maïsha," she said.

Aurélien leaned over to Zuri, brushing a tender kiss against her lips. The world seemed to blur around them, and for a moment, it was just the two of them, a silent promise of the future they were carving together.

"Gross!" Yannis said, scrunching his nose. "Can you not do that in front of your little brother?"

Laughter erupted around the table, and Zuri's heart felt full. Whatever trials lay behind them, and whatever challenges awaited, this moment—surrounded by love, laughter, and the unwavering bond she shared with Aurélien—was hers to hold onto.

TO BE CONTINUED.....EPILOGUE COMING SOON!

[angelwishess]

୨୧ TWST HCS !~

Heartslabyul | Savannaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomfiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia

— Rambling / Details utc~

Since Heartslabyul is based on Alice in Wonderland, I thought it’d fit for everyone to look super unique in some aspect!! Ace is the only one that wears a varisty jacket, Deuce has the most piercings, Trey has a bunch of different glasses, and Cater has the most accessories !! And Riddle….. hes Riddle idk /j

Riddle: He is a pretty boy and no one can convince me otherwise. I didn’t add it but i imagine hes rather pale, and gets embarrasingly red in the heat. Has the most beautiful purple-blue eyes and almost looks like a doll honestly. Slight, reddish freckles if u look hard enough lol (I also hc that he gets a white streak of hair after Book 6, but I forgot to add it 😭)

Ace: I didn’t add it, but I imagine he wears a varsity jacket instead of the school blazer!! The thought of him looking like a typical disney show bully was just too funny to me. Much messier / fluffier hair, and has such long, dark lashes that it makes every girl he’s ever known jealous. He knows it too, and hes an ass about it, will flutter his lashes whenever someone mentions it. Had stud piercings because yes !!! (Regarding the varsity jacket, I’ll draw how I think it looks some time :3)

Deuce: Slightly longer hair, but he tries his best to keep it neat. Has alot of ear piercings, but he tries to cover it up with his hair 😭. Super pretty bottom lashes , and a nice beauty mark underneath his eye. Has really pretty lips :3 He tries to wear both his nrc and dorm uniform as correctly as possible (struggles to tie a tie and has to redo it like 50 times) (<- His tie still ends up a lil wonky lol)

@skibidibabygirl DEUCE MENTIONED

Trey: I will be honest, I struggled alot with him 😭. Couldn’t think of anything major, but I thought it’d be nice to give him colorful glasses teehee. I would’ve done something better with that but I couldn’t find any good refs 😭, but i imagine he has a lot of cool looking glasses he just switches up cuz why not its silly and i like it HEHE. I added two little beauty marks on him too, as well as some gold ear piercings. One being a lil hoop like Cater’s :33. Idk if its noticable but I made his shoulders broader too!! That man is built no one can convince me otherwise baking weirdly has a lot of arm strength involved 😭

Edit: I imagine him to have a bunch of glasses like these!!!

Cater: Fashion KING. He LOOVES to accessorize. Rings, bracelets, necklaces, you name it !! I added some lil chain thingys on his tie too :3 Slightly longer blazer, and oversized pants. I gave him lip piercings just because it looked cool tbh HAHAHA, messier hair and two beauty marks under his eye to match Trey !! <3 He has painted nails, and I also gave him a hair clamp that makes his lil ponytail into the shape of a diamond if you look at him from behind. Customizes his uniforms as much as possible, the opposite of Deuce LMAOO

[im-just-a-mississippi-girl]

Friends or More?

Pairing: Colten Gunn x female!reader

Category: Angst/Fluff

Word count: 1,467

Summary: Falling for your best friend is risky, even more so when he doubles as a coworker. After five months away, you return with a clear head, or so you thought. Will this turn into friends to lovers or will end in unrequited love?

Warnings: None

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve been on here and I’m excited to be back! This is my first time writing for Colten so bear with me! @ylenyasstuff I hope you like it ❤️

Masterlist

Taglist

Gif is not mine. Credit to owner

It’s been five months since you left your job at AEW and now here you are, back to give this another shot. Why did you leave in the first place? Because of Colten Gunn and it’s not in a bad way. You worked as a booker and little by little, day after day you noticed your feelings towards the oldest Gunn brother was changing.

You were on the verge of falling for him.

When you first arrived at AEW, you didn’t have any intention on falling for anyone but then came Colten Gunn knocking on your little makeshift office door. Austin was preset as well but, truthfully, you didn’t notice him at first.

“Welcome to AEW!” Colten beamed, arms outstretched as if to show off the place. “We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be the first to give you the grand tour.”

You were taken aback at how excited he was to be given this task. You didn’t know what to expect when you arrived, especially with Tony Kahn being busy with boss man duties. He assured you that you would be in good hands for your first day. You expected him to send The Young Bucks or Kenny Omega or Britt Baker or Willow Nightingale to be the welcome wagon and your guide for today but lo and behold, he sent the Gunns. You’re not complaining but it definitely surprised you.

“Thanks for the warm welcome,” you smiled. Movement from behind Colten caught your attention and that’s when you finally noticed his brother. Austin was standing back watching the interaction, a small smirk playing on his lips. What’s that about? You shrugged it off and introduced yourself to them.

The Gunns showed you around and before long it felt like you all had known each other for years. It was comforting to have an instant friendship so early into your career at AEW.

Fast forward a few months and things were still great. You were booking huge matches and doing your best to help tell stories that people would remember and connect with. Your friendship with Colten and Austin was going great, although you ended up being closer to Colten in the end. Maybe that wasn’t as good of a thing as you thought.

As time went on, you began to notice your feelings changing towards Colten. No. You cannot ruin this friendship with unrequited love. You tried to bury those feelings down and pretend they didn’t exist. You couldn’t fall for arguably your best friend. Unfortunately, those feelings became too hard to hide and you knew you were in trouble. You were at risk of losing your rock. Your anchor. Your best friend.

Why are you stressing out so much about this? What if he feels the same and all is well and good? Well, you have a rule — Do not date your coworkers.

That rule is why you asked Tony Kahn for time away. You needed space from Colten to clear your head and forget about those feelings. Surely it was just some weird ‘I like him because he showed me around and has been there for me’ kind of thing. Right?

Time will tell.

You pushed open the doors to the arena AEW was at this week and started tracking down Tony. You finally managed to find him talking to some crew members on the ramp way leading to the ring. The conversation wrapped up and you cheerfully greeted him. “Hi Tony! What do you have for me?”

Tony filled you in on what’s going on in regard to your job and the matches that will be taking place tonight. He showed you to a similar makeshift office that you had on your first day. That’s when the memories came rushing back. All the times Colten hung out with you when he wasn’t needed for backstage interviews or matches. It’s all going to be fine. It has to be.

Thankfully you didn’t see Colten at all or Austin either. Some of your friends came by to welcome you back and expressed how happy they were to see you again. All felt right, even when you were packing up some things to head out in the next ten minutes…. Until Colten popped up in the doorway. Oh no. Breathe. It’s fine. You’re just friends.

“Sorry I hadn’t been able to come by and welcome you back,” he noticed your bag on your desk and you sliding your laptop in its case. “I’m about to be heading out too. Want me to walk you out?”

You tried not to look nervous as you zipped up your bag. “Y-yeah. That would be great.” Just friends. You’re just friends despite the fact that your heart is doing flips and your hands are slightly shaky. You threw your bag on your shoulder and grabbed your phone. When you looked up at Colten, he was watching you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

The two of you walked and talked about what you’ve missed. You couldn’t help but laugh at a story Colten told about how badly Austin embarrassed himself in front of this girl at a bar. “It couldn’t have went any worse. I swear his face was as red as lobster.” Colten laughed.

His laugh. His contagious smile. His gorgeous eyes. They were not helping you convince yourself that you and Colten are just friends. Get it together!

“I have a question.” Colten said once you both had arrived at your rental car. You motioned for him to continue, not trusting your voice to be steady enough to answer. “Why did you leave? Did something happen? Did someone say or do something to make you feel like you didn’t belong?” His face was covered with concern and a small mixture of hurt and anger at the thought of someone being the reason you felt the need to leave. Little does he know, he’s the reason.

You thought about how to answer for a moment, searching for the right words. “I..” you paused, taking a breath, knowing that what you were about to say would change everything. “I left because of you,” you quietly replied. You saw the look on his face — confusion, hurt, a flash of anger even appeared on his face. “It’s not because of anything bad!” You were quick to reassure him. “It was because I have this rule and you were going to make me break it. And I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t ruin our friendship.” You rambled, hoping he heard it all.

“What’s the rule?” Colten asked after a moment to let the information you just gave soak in. “I swear I didn’t mean to do anything bad or wrong or upset you.”

You took another breath and knew your rule was absolutely about to be broken. You knew in that moment your feelings for Colten weren’t going away any time soon, if ever. “The rule is don’t date your coworkers. I always prided myself on following that rule at every job I’ve ever had but then I come here and meet you and then little by little feelings changed. I could feel myself starting to—“ you cut yourself off. You didn’t want to scare him away, but honestly, it didn’t look like he was going anywhere as you finally looked into his eyes. He had this look that you’ve seen in movies. Admiration.

“You left because you were falling in love with me?” Colten’s eyebrows raised and he couldn’t resist the smile that made its way to his face. “I’ll be honest. I was miserable when you left and I thought it was just because we were close friends but the longer you were gone, Austin and Jay and Juice were convinced it was because I had fell for you. And finally, I didn’t argue with them anymore about it because I knew they were right.” Never once did Colten’s eyes leave yours. In the middle of his confession, he had taken your hands in his.

No unrequited love? No rejection? You wanted to cheer but refrained. This moment was too perfect to ruin. “I left to clear my head but now that I’m back, I know you’re worth breaking my rule for. Especially after what you just said. I was falling for you then and I’m falling for you now.”

“I’m happy you’re breaking your rule for me. I’m just curious about something though.” A smirk played on his lips. You didn’t know what he was about to ask but it was clearly going to be mischievous.

“What’s that?”

“How many more rules are you willing to break for me?”

A blush crept up on your cheeks as you playfully smacked his chest, a laugh escaping your lips. It’s clear you’re in for a ride with this one.

General Taglist: @legit9thlunaticwarrior @magicalbuttertarts @1dluver13xx @sunshinevirus @wwenhlimagines @crowleysqueenofhell @jackson-nickthedate @omg-im-such-a-masochist @kmc1989

[jsprnt]

as the saying goes: with every high, comes a low

kenan yıldız x reader

A/N: writing this brought back both good memories and ptsd from the euros 🥲🥲 based on this request, thank you for requesting 🤍🤍 also this is so sappyyy, guess who’s in her feels? 😛

W/C: 1.090

ninety minutes of straight-up torture.

a small fifteen-minute break to calm your pounding heart down, before it starts heavily thumping against your rib cage again.

you wouldn’t be surprised if you dropped onto the floor due to the amount of times your heart rate had skyrocketed.

anxiety and anticipation.

the only words that could describe your mental state in the moment.

losing a match was painful, but even more painful after turkey had been doing so well in the tournament.

as the partner of a football player, you carried your own sadness, and your boyfriend’s sadness.

you bite your lip when the referee ends the match. enough to draw a small amount of blood. the metallic taste fills your mouth, and makes you feel even more horrible.

the chants of the turkey supporters had been non-stop since the start of the game. at first full of joy, then encouragement, then slowly trailing off to tears and disappointment.

even so, everyone had an incredible sense of pride in their hearts for their country. no matter the loss.

when you're given the go-ahead, all family members and friends of the turkey players make their way out of their seats.

you hurry as you go down, your heart aching as you imagine all of the disappointment and anger brewing in your lover’s heart.

when you finally reach him, kenan immediately pulls you into a private room. without a word, his arms wrap around your back, and he buries his handsome face in the crook of your neck.

feeling his breath hit your skin, you sigh shakily. not caring about his sweaty hair and body, you reach up to run your hand down his back.

"are you okay?"

of course, he wasn't, but you could barely register how fast the team had lost control of the match. let alone form a coherent, comforting thought.

you rake your unoccupied hand through his hair, your heart beating in your ears as you try to find the words to comfort your boyfriend.

though, his lack of response told you enough.

after a long stretch of silence, you start spilling your thoughts. licking your dry lips before speaking.

"I'm so fucking proud of you, kenan.."

the words leave your mouth with deep emotion. followed by a tremble of your lip as you try to keep your tears at bay.

"whatever people say, whatever anyone says doesn't matter. you worked so fucking hard, you put your entire soul and body into it. that's what matters. you tried, and I know you did your best.."

you pause as a shaky sigh leaves kenan's mouth. his athletic body pressing into yours, the smell of sweat, notes of his musky cologne, and your perfume creating a familiar atmosphere.

your heart breaks when you hear a small sniffle. your eyes closing as you hold back your own tears.

"you can cry. it's okay, cry it out. I know it hurts, baby.." you whisper, finally feeling hot tears hit your own cheeks, as his transfer down your neck.

"I worked so hard. so many nights and days- and this is the performance I put on when my team, and my entire country is leaning on me!.."

"shh, don't blame yourself, honey. I know it will sound cliché, but you did your absolute best. you can’t do more than your best, baby..”

you pause to pat his back, tears messing up your makeup, and making your nose run.

"it was going so well, you guys created so many chances. it was just an unlucky second half.."

"to have something in the palm of my hand, and then to just lose it within twenty minutes- hurts so fucking bad.." his shoulders shake with the painful sobs. the emotion expressed by your boyfriend causing a soft whimper to leave your own mouth.

"never ever think that the entire thing was on you. It was destined to be like this. as humans, we will learn and grow, even if we don’t see immediate results.."

kenan moves his head to look at you, your heart practically cracking at the sadness on his face.

the hopeless look in his beautiful brown eyes, the irritation of his soft skin- and the fastened pace of his pulse.

"why are you crying?" he asks, and you can swear he starts crying harder after seeing the tears on your face.

"because, you're hurting. don't ever want you to feel bad or upset.." your voice cracks, and you tighten your grip on the fabric of his training jacket.

"fuck. don't you ever cry over me, baby.." kenan rasps, cupping your cheek with his roughened palm. both your eyes visibly red and irritated from the salty tears.

"how can I not?" you question, before pulling his head into your neck again. cradling the back of his head, as you hug each other as tightly as humanly possible.

"i love you so much. your joy is mine. so how can your hurt not be mine?" you ask, raking your fingers through his hair.

"i love you too. so bad it kills me to see you cry over me.." he chokes out, his fingers curling around your body, holding you incredibly close against his warm skin.

you hold each other for a couple of minutes, the only sound in the room being the cold air conditioning, and the sound of your combined sobs.

you can hear kenan take a deep, stuttering breath, before he speaks.

"we’re such crybabies.."

his voice is raw, but thick with fondness and warmth..

your lover always knew how to lighten up the mood, while others could never do so in similar situations.

you chuckle a little through tears, pulling back to look at him. you raise your hand to wipe the tears on kenan's cheeks, his bloodshot eyes on yours.

pushing back his hair, you expose his forehead, wiping away the rest of the moisture with your sleeve.

"your eyes are all red.." you comment, knowing you probably looked the exact same.

"what do you need when we get back to the hotel? a bath? a cuddle? good food?" you inquire, wanting to provide him the best comfort you could offer.

you watch him take a breath before he speaks, and he whips out a tissue from his pocket, before dabbing at the tears on your face.

he was so gentle and thoughtful, like always.

"I just need you. I just need my sweet baby next to me, and everything will be alright.."

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

first time anon but long time lurker and as always I find myself back to your blog(s). Was going through your masterposts (mainly hp but I look forward to diving once more in meta and fics about twilight too) and was wondering how come that nobody pieces together the clues and realises that lupin is a werewolf? (name aside, the bloke was disappearing and feeling poorly around every full moon and was for 7 years in a castle with the same people and nobody expect his dorm mates noticed??)

My question is, is wizardkind this oblivious/stupid/reliant on magic and looking things at surface level?

Would love to hear your thoughts about it bc I agree with many things in your meta posts and I'm kinda curious.

have a good day ✨

Because why would he be?

Why's There a Werewolf on Campus?

Why would Hogwarts be housing a werewolf? The idea, I imagine, would be untenable to anyone. And if they were unwittingly, surely, they would have noticed and done something about it? Lupin was able to remain hidden because he had extra support from Dumbledore as Headmaster. Dumbledore made it so Lupin had a place to hide during his transformations, so there was no wolf rampaging around the halls.

To suspect somebody's a werewolf, you have to say to yourself, "The staff knowingly is supporting a werewolf on campus" and that's if they suspect anything in the first place. Which they really don't have any reason to.

And even then, remember for most people that aren't Harry living in Harry canon, Hogwarts is supposed to be a safe and wonderful place. It's not supposed to be filled with horrible monsters/death around every corner. The idea of a werewolf being on campus would be something that would be as anathema to there being a troll on campus!

Remember that in canon, the HP parents were appalled when they found out that Lupin was a werewolf, and the man was immediately sacked.

He Ain't the Stereotype

Lupin, especially at a young age, would not look like what wizards and witches would think a werewolf would. While the whole point is that werewolves can be anybody, a young boy (even if he is scarred) who's still growing just isn't going to match the haunting image of Fenrir Greyback for people.

People are not going to look at his face and thing "WEREWOLF". In fact, given how sickly he acts (and unless these people are aware of how werewolves actually act around the full moon), they're probably going to think, well, sickly.

Who Notices Anyway?

Harry and the other students in canon notice that Lupin seems to be sickly/become regularly sick. Roughly once a month (but remember that the modern western calendar doesn't exactly line up with the lunar cycle) Lupin looks awful, and then he disappears for a few days and Snape comes to lecture them and says, "YOU LITTLE FUCKS EVER THINK ABOUT WEREWOLVES?!"

And even then, the HP students don't put it together (see above, why would their professor be a werewolf), even when they're looking up at the sky every night for astronomy (and either tracking the lunar cycle or else on non-overcast nights at least getting a chance to observe it).

And these are people in a position where they see and notice the man regularly. He is professor to all of these students; he is a person that everyone in the school will notice when he's absent and when he's not.

Lupin as a student would not be. First, the only people who would really notice him missing, consistently, are those he shares classes with, which is going to be mostly Gryffindor. Even then, most people are not going to be looking for him specifically, so you really narrow it down to a) people in Lupin's year and b) Lupin's friends who care.

Those who do know that Lupin is regularly sick--well, it's just that, the dude has magical tuberculosis or something. He's clearly only just healthy enough to attend Hogwarts, but every once in a while, he pushes it too hard and woops has to go on bedrest for a little while. If he's not seen in the dorms, people either assume he's in his dorm room (which people outside of the inhabitants don't have much reason to regularly enter) or he's in the Hospital Wing.

No one's going to notice that when Lupin disappears exactly coincides with the full moon plus or minus a few days.

Except, of course, his roommates who do see that whenever this happens--his bed is empty at night. Where exactly does he go? If he's going to St. Mungo's, why doesn't he say? James, Sirius, and Peter were in a unique position to notice far more about Remus's habits, the truth of where he is or isn't, than anyone else in the castle.

And if Anyone Did Think It, Which Why Would They...

Remus has his roommates and friends to cover for him, which I'm sure they did. They ensure anyone who thinks to ask that Remus is totally in their dorm room, sick as a dog (hur hur hur).

And why would they have reason to lie about this?

Similarly, this requires McGonagall and Dumbledore to be witting and lying, as if Remus was simply sickly, they would surely know and have made arrangements for him being in the hospital wing all the damn time/having to skip class so much.

And why would they have reason to lie about one of their students being a werewolf?

TL;DR

It's such a preposterous concept to most people, that they have no reason to ever even suspect that Remus Lupin was a werewolf.

They probably thought Lupin had wizard consumption.

[ruvviks]

Nathan Dixon is lead STEM developer of the Union environment and Team Bravo special ops agent of MOBIUS. He is one of the youngest recruits of the shadow organization, having been forced to join them after he killed his parents at age 16; and now, nine years later, he is looking for a way to destroy MOBIUS once and for all– if that is even possible.

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @hibernationsuit, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@jacobseed, @swordcoasts

[marshmallowgoop]

There's a lot of talk about Heiji's tendency to drop everything and go to Tokyo to help—or even just to see!—Shinichi, and rightfully so. It's something Heiji unabashedly admits to (Episode 278, Magic File 5)...

Heiji: If any other suspicious persons show up, just call me! I'll run right over!

Ran: Hattori-kun saw that incident on the news and rushed over because he was worried about you, Conan-kun. Heiji: Grabbed the first bullet train in the mornin'!

And I still can hardly believe that Heiji's canon, actual, real-deal reaction to a request to put his life on the line and impersonate Shinichi... is an immediate "OK" composed out of heart emojis (Episode 345).

Seriously. That happened. Heiji couldn't not help.

Heiji (internally): I had no choice. After all, Kudo e-mailed me asking me to do this.

But in Shinichi's first appearance since being poisoned (Episode 49), after seemingly refusing to show his face to Ran or Inspector Megure or anyone else in town for who knows how long, he unabashedly claims that he dropped everything to meet Heiji. He smiles about it!

And of course it's a lie, but there's a smidgen of truth to it, too. Conan did accompany Heiji, despite feeling terribly sick and harboring zero interest in the (apparently) non-murderous case, because he was intrigued. Because he was impressed with what Heiji had uncovered about him already and was nervous about what else his so-called "rival" could reveal.

Conan (internally): I don't wanna go, but there's no telling what this guy might say!

But even without that context, Shinichi's easy, immediate cover story gets to me. He really, truly, unhesitatingly asserts that meeting Heiji was important enough to jump right on a train to get there.

It reminds me of Shinichi's excitement when he first learns of Heiji (File 520), and his grin when he thinks of meeting Heiji for real one day (File 522):

Shinichi: Really? Then he's just like me!

Shinichi (internally): We'll meet each other again... on that mysterious stage...

I think I could totally buy that Shinichi actually would have done exactly what he claims in the clip. He is interested in other detectives like himself, and with the pain of the antidote wearing off in Episode 49, that smile's gotta be genuine.

Finally, while it's Not That Deep, there's maybe something to be said about how Heiji is symbolically the key to Shinichi's true self, since it's Heiji's alcohol that transforms Conan back into Shinichi. With this clip, Shinichi underlines the same idea. It's Heiji who brought him back after so long. It's because of Heiji Hattori that Shinichi Kudo makes his first appearance after vanishing.

And I love how forthright Shinichi is about it.

[seithr]

Randomly remembered the half-reason i call my oc-verse by the name it has while laying in bed. One-half of the reason i still knew, but I had forgotten what had truly, really cemented it jointly until now

(it was a song from my favourite band I haven't listened to in a while.)

(the song fit so well at the time, still does, that i needed to hold onto it for the main protagonists forever, by partially naming their story in reference.)

Does this explanation make any sense? Does anyone know why I'm tearing up remembering this. Aahh

[chiistarri]

what if instead of messaging me in the middle of the night about your stupid fucking girlfriend and your stupid fucking problems with her you actually act like my fucking friend and message me like how you message everyone else in our group

[nerdie-faerie]

I really have the two most useless love languages for long distance friendships. What the fuck am I meant to do with acts of service and physical affection?

[hiiragi7]

Not my usual content, but I made something I wanted to share...

Edit: Now with an ID from @a-captions-blog! Thank you for writing it!

[Art description: A Pokémon-themed comic featuring OP as a Pikachu. Long description follows.

1. The tips of Pikachu’s ears are shown with text that says, ‘I’m a Pikachu / My world is filled with lots of cool stuff. Sometimes it feels like anything is possible!’ Under this is a collage showing a Charizard, a Pidgeotto, a Nidoking, an Eevee, and an Ivysaur, all in the background as the Pikachu looks up in wonder. Text reads, ‘All sorts of types, all sorts of attacks, all sorts of Pokemon.’

2. Text says, ‘But...only two ways a Pikachu’s tail could look.’ Two boxes in the upper corners show the male and female Pikachu tails, respectively. The male has a rectangular end to his tale, and the female has a heart-shaped end to hers. Text continues, ‘So then, what am I?’ A large drawing of the narrator Pikachu is shown, with an arrow pointing to their tail, whose end is split somewhat like scissors and doesn’t match either the male or female drawing above.

3. Text says, ‘Too pointy to be [female], too much of a V-shape to be [male]. I thought there was something wrong with me.’ Under this are three cascading panels showing the Pikachu from below at an angle emphasizing their tail. The second panel shows mel further away, and in the final panel she have disappeared entirely. Text on the panels reads, ‘I felt / very, very, very / alone.’

4. Text says, ‘But then, something happened. I found others like me.’ The art shows the narrator reaching out to another Pikachu. Under this are three other Pikachu. One has a rounded tail, one has a tail that has been stitched up to be rectangular, and one has a tail with a slight spike at the tip.

5. Closeups are shown of each of the tails from the previous panel, with text that says, ‘Round tails, scarred tails, spiky tails.’ Under this is a drawing of the Pikachu all hugging with lightning coming from their cheeks. Text reads, ‘They told me nothing was wrong with me, and I wasn´t alone anymore.’

6. Text says, ‘There are many ways a Pikachu’s tail can look. I’ve heard there’s at least over 30 different variations.’ Under this are two panels. The first panel shows the narrator lying on their back on a background of male and female symbols. Text reads, ‘Some days are still hard.’ In the second panel, the Pikachu with the scarred tail is shown with text that says, ‘My friend tells me her tail used to look just like mine. It was taken from her.’

8. The narrator is shown sitting and looking upwards. Text reads, ‘Some trainers won’t accept Pikachu that aren’t [male] or [female]. They alter our tails without our consent. But things are getting better. We are making change. We’re fighting so that our tails will be left alone.’ Under this is a panel showing the four Pikachu running happily towards the right. Text reads, ‘We’re all on a spectrum. Every tail looks different; anything is possible.’

The final text reads, ‘This is a comic about intersex people.’ The watermark in the lower right says @ PostManic. \End descriptions

[c0zys]

i love being berated to interact with people who never reach out to me either <3

[kurooh]

MATCH MY FREAK ★ JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso tryin’ to keep up with their freak of a girlfriend.

warnings. 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, hair pulling, overstimulation, rough sex, oral, passing out, spitting, some degradation, squirting, public sex, light slapping, choking. | 3.4k words of FILTH

xoxo, juno. needed characterization practice loll. comment & rb if you enjoyed <33

GOJO SATORU # matches you

“aw, you’re so cute when you’re slutting yourself out for my fucking cock, baby,” satoru coos, lips trailing over your pebbled nipples while his tip teases your messy cunt. it was a mistake, deciding to play a stupid game of chicken with him—the gist of the game was to tease one another, and see who’d give up first.

you’d overestimated yourself just a little; you both ended up fully naked, with satoru on top of you and unwilling to let you go so you could make a fair move. but of course, you didn’t want to give up, and neither did he—it doesn’t even matter, not when he’s winning the game like this.

you bite down on your lower lip, weakly closing your thighs in an attempt to push him back to even out the playing field. “oh, is this the first sign of defeat, baby?”

“absolutely not,” you hiss, brows knitting when he tosses your thighs apart and nudges his tip inside you. “you cheated, i can’t even make a fair move.”

“all’s fair in a game of chicken and sex. don’t complain, ‘s not my fault you overestimated yourself.” satoru’s snicker has your heels digging into his lower back as you force him to push his cock inside you; his expression melts into one of pure euphoria as he sinks in, inch by inch.

“how’s that, satoru?” you purr, satisfied. he glares at you, azure eyes hooded and heavy with lust; without even slipping out of you, he flips you over onto your stomach and presses your head into the sheets. beneath the two of you, the bed groans, creaking growing loud as he moves his hips, slamming into you so hard the headboard bangs against the wall.

“got some nerve . . thinking you could show me how to fuck, tsk,” he shakes his head, punctuating his words with harsh thrusts.

“fuck!” you sob, fingers scrabbling for purchase on his waist to pause him for a moment. you’re still thinking about the game, but satoru’s aching for more after having been teased for so long.

“give up and just focus on cumming for me, babygirl,” he grunts into your ear, savoring the gasps you can’t seem to stop letting out. his balls slap into your clit, and the room fills with the filthy sound of fucking—skin against skin, groaning, and begging.

you can’t even form one thought about being competitive when satoru’s fucking every single thing out of your head. “r-right there, toru,” you wail, arching upwards and pressing your ass against him.

satoru gifts it with a smack that rings through the room, then lifts your lips up and doesn’t even give you a second to adjust to the new angle that has you taking his cock both deeper and faster. just when you think you can’t take any more, satoru slips a hand beneath your body and plants his palm firmly against your lower stomach.

“eh, what’re you doing?” wordlessly, satoru draws his hips back until only his tip is left inside you, then presses down with his hand before canting his hips forward. it’s too much—you all but scream as he mercilessly plunges into you again and again.

your body is slick with sweat and only growing hotter by the moment; the sound of his rough panting coupled with the occasional whine he lets out only has you burying your face deeper into the sheets.

satoru clicks his tongue, voice shaking ever so slightly. “arch it for me, baby—fuckkk, that’s perfect.”

he’s delirious with pleasure, eyes rolling back into his head while his face only flushes a darker pink from the heat of it all. that was the thing about him — he could always dish it out, and take it, but not for long.

“i-i’m gonna cum,” and his voice splinters into a whine at the end of his sentence, spurring you on to fuck him back. you’re tossing your hips back onto him, bouncing your ass so deliciously he wants to take a bite. “shit, i’m gonna cum.”

“give it to me, satoru,” you manage, turning back at the right moment. icy blue eyes connect with yours and he uselessly blinks away the tears that are gathered on his waterline, only for a few to spill over and run down his cheeks. “cum inside me, make it yours, toru.”

with a groan of your name, satoru’s abs clench as he spills inside you, cock twitching against your cervix. he presses down harder on your lower stomach, drawing out your own orgasm.

“just like that, toru—” you interrupt yourself with a moan as your pussy gushes all over, spraying onto his pelvis and cock.

“that’s my girl,” satoru groans, lightly smacking your clit and chuckling at the way your entire body trembles in response. “by the way, the game was a tie.”

GETO SUGURU # matches you

“open. good girl,” suguru spits onto your awaiting tongue, violet eyes observing expectantly as you swallow. his spit tastes like the grape lollipop he’d been sliding between his lips on your walk around the city together. now, in the backseat of his car, he’s got you caged beneath him, gripping your jaw with one large hand.

“you’re so cute, really,” suguru says with a snort, lightly smacking at your cheek. “your idea of a date is going around and flirting as much as possible. hm, ‘s like you were trying to piss me off, end up like this in the car. you know how busy this place is, don’t you?”

“i don’t care,” you pout, tugging the hem of your shirt upwards to reveal your stomach; he doesn’t stop you as you slide your shorts halfway down, revealing the lace of the panties you’re wearing, all for him. “just touch me, sugu. please?”

“you’re so needy,” he scoffs, although his voice lilts into a willing tone as he unbuttons your shorts and inches backwards to allow you to toss your legs over his shoulders.

suguru’s dark hair is soft from the premium shampoos and conditioners he uses meticulously; half of it was tied up in a tight bun while the rest flowed freely past his shoulders. until you pulled his hair free from its ties and gathered the silky tresses between your fingers, impatiently tugging him towards the place you needed him most.

“would it kill you to be patient?” suguru’s question is genuine as he leaves open mouthed kisses on the tender skin of your inner thighs, nipping lightly to tease you a little more.

“yes,” you huff, fingers relaxing in his hair as he moves closer to your already messy pussy, reveling in the sight of his favorite snack (dessert?).

“shit,” suguru’s voice is strained as he feels arousal resonate through his entire body, causing his temperature and heart rate to spike. “you’re fucking soaked, princess.”

“what’re you waiting for?” you moan, frustrated by the sight of his tongue as he speaks, eager to feel him use it on you.

he ignores you then, opting to land a light slap to your pussy. the force of his palm coming down on your already sensitive clit sends sparks of pleasure through the entire lower half of your body, eliciting a drawn out whine from your lips.

“s-spit on it,” you manage, squirming beneath his heavy gaze. he’s practically burning holes into your skin with those pretty purple eyes of his.

“you want it realll bad, don’t you?” suguru’s tone is nothing short of mocking as he continues to stay a frustrating distance away from your cunt.

frantic for his touch, for him—your hips jolt upwards, and you cry out when he shoves them back down easily. “come on, sugu—i can handle it.”

“yeah? you won’t tap out this time?”

“god, i-i want you to ruin me.”

the admission pulls a laugh from between his lips, and yet he doesn’t waste any time diving forward to devour you. suguru’s tongue strokes up your folds, collecting your wetness at the tip before darting forward to push inside you. the action is meant to tease, to piss you off, and it does.

“d-don’t do this right now, sugu,” your fingers tighten in his hair as you pull him forward insistently.

“alright, alright,” his lips move against your lower pair and he slides his hands beneath your ass to scoop you closer. in a matter of seconds; suguru’s got his whole mouth on you now, sucking and licking and slurping obscenely. the wet noises fill the car, coupled with your shared moans.

tasting you and hearing you is all he really needs to be satisfied; the way you’re tugging on his hair is painful at first, but it quickly becomes something that has him moaning louder than you. that was his achilles heel—his hair, of all things. when pulled just right, or brushed gently, he couldn’t ever stop himself from making those low, yet pretty sounds of his. sometimes his scalp would grow sensitive after a while, and his grunts would turn into pitched moans he couldn’t control.

without a care for the many people passing by the parked car, your back arches off the backseat, tits bouncing deliciously beneath your shirt. “‘m close, sugu—just like that, d-don’t stop!”

he inserts a single finger inside you, filling you up and stretching you out nicely. then, he curls it deeply, prodding against that sweet spot of yours. he’d committed all the places that’d make you tick to memory, and this happened to be one of the top three. suguru’s cheeks darken from the heat of it all as he sucks your clit between his lips and lavishes it with attention from his tongue.

it’s as soft as silk and yet so rough as it drags up and down the swollen bud. your hips jolt upwards again and again, body thrashing as the white hot pleasure circulates throughout your insides, pooling deep in your stomach. the knot frays with each passing second, your toes curling as you hurtle closer to euphoria.

“s-suguru,” you moan. he looks up at the right time to see your eyes rolling back as you dissolve into pleasure. “‘m gonna cum, i—”

your brain short circuits as the knot inside you snaps, cunt squeezing hard around his finger and fluttering as he draws it backwards. your clit hardens beneath his tongue, and he moans from the sensation, the vibrations making you jerk.

suguru’s kind enough to let you ride it out, fingers gripping his hair to the point of potential baldness. he doesn’t mind, especially not when you squeak out a blissed out, dazed “t-thank you, sugu.”

NANAMI KENTO # doesn’t match you yet

“fucking—shit, angel, slow down,” kento swallows a whine, trying not to beg. his head tips back, strands of his blonde hair escaping their neat gel hold and falling over his forehead. “come on, you’re going too fast.”

his pleas fall on deaf ears as you smirk and lean in towards that sweet, sensitive spot on his neck that always has him seeing stars once it’s touched the right way. you giggle against his skin, leaving a few wet kisses along his neck before sinking your teeth. the bite is entirely playful, but his abs clench tightly against you and he sucks in a breath.

the couch is creaking loudly from the ferocious and aggressive way you’re riding him, hips slamming into his without a single concern for how sensitive he is from prior orgasms. uncharacteristic whines pour from his lips along with heaving pants of your name as kento frantically searches for purchase on your hips.

“what’s wrong, kento?” you purr, kissing away the drool from the corners of his lips. he’s got hearts in his eyes from the chaste action; the dichotomy between the sweetness and nastiness is so overwhelming . . kento’s fingers dig into the plush skin at your hips as he tries to stop you.

“n-no need to go so fast. let me guide you instead, princess,” but he’s really just trying to save himself the embarrassment of cumming again and sobbing from the overstimulation.

kento’s neck absorbs the soft moans you let out as he moves your hips at a much slower, languid pace. “fuck, ken, ‘s good . . little faster, please?”

he tugs his lower lip between his teeth. “be patient. just keep your eyes on me, angel.”

“but it - it’s not enough,” and your hips increase, returning to the beginning of your wild pace. the loud squelching sound of your pussy and the smacks of skin against skin drown out whatever he says next, but he seems to accept it. his cheeks are flushed and his face is covered in a sheen of sweat, and although he’d been desperate for reprieve earlier he’s accepting being ridden like a horse now.

each drag of your sticky cunt on his cock pulls plenty of sound from the both of you. this is the first time you’ve ever ridden his cock—first time anyone has ever—and all of his concerns are melting away as he fully submits to you. to your cunt—he’s completely pussydrunk.

“shit, angel,” he swallows, body bowing forward as he presses his face into your chest, allowing your tits to smack against his cheeks. “i-i’m gonna cum again—i don’t think i can anymore after this, you’ll have to—”

you tilt his chin upwards and connect your lips to his, swallowing the sounds he makes as he comes undone. you can only tremble as his cock throbs inside you, and his head falls against you weakly after he lets out a choked groan.

“ken, feels so fucking good,” you sob, fingernails raking over the taut muscles of his back. those marks will sting tomorrow under his suit, a sultry reminder of you. his breaths come in harsh pants against your skin, and he makes no move to pull away as you ride him to completion.

you’re sore, and the room is hot and smelling of nothing but sex, but you’re too close to stop. there’s no need to give a warning as your cunt spasms on him, squeezing his cock so hard he’s pushed out of you. the loss of fulfillment makes you hiss, and you nudge him lightly, helping him sit back.

kento has passed out — he’s quite literally fucked out, eyes closed and all as his chest rapidly rises and falls. of course, his swollen cock still stands at attention between his legs, tip prodding against you.

FUSHIGURO TOJI # is freakier

“run that by me again, doll. i dare ya.”

toji’s voice is low and deep as it rumbles from his chest, his raspy demand sending a hot rush of excitement right between your legs. “t-toji,” is all you can squeak out, legs spreading weakly as he tosses them to the side to make more room. “i-i said, i can’t keep going—”

fushiguro toji was not a patient man, nor was he someone who tolerated quitting or giving up in any kind of way, regardless of the situation. the idea of you attempting to tap out this early after teasing him all fucking day truly flipped a switch in his brain. it honestly set him off, like a spark of fire to a stick of dynamite.

“aw, just shut up, baby,” toji twists a hand into your hair and yanks your head backwards, leaning close to savor the sight of your arched back as well as to speak directly into your ear. his breath ghosts over the shell of your ear, making the skin hotter. “ya really thought that’d work? after all that shit you pulled today?”

“i didn’t mean to get you so worked up—” a nip to your earlobe silences you immediately, and a moan slips from between your lips, betraying the genuineness of your request.

“listen to you . . ya want to get fucked like a whore, isn’t that right?” toji hisses, rocking his hips forward and nudging his cock deeper in your tight cunt. the sensitivity is killer, but toji doesn’t care about that—it’s simply an excuse.

“you deserve this, dollface. can take one more, can’t you?”

with your hair wrapped around his fist, back forced into an arch, legs spread wide, there’s no other way you can answer him besides saying yes. always testing the waters with him, but toji would amp it up and have you crying by the time it was all over.

you let your head hang, lifting your hips to help him out; the sound of slick bodies smacking against one another coupled with his heavy panting is enough to have you whining his name, tears streaking down your cheeks. your hand slips between your legs to rub at your swollen clit since you know he’s too annoyed to do it for you.

behind you, toji arches a brow but says nothing, opting to fuck you harder. his heavy balls slam into your fingers, messing up your movements—but are they really? the impact adds a new, chaotic element to your pleasure, making you moan louder.

“fuckkk,” toji tosses his head back, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and forehead as a familiar ache in his side grows from all the exertion. “i can’t hear ya, doll . . make some noise for me.”

ever the mind reader—the words were on the tip of your tongue before his comment. “k-keep going—wanna cum for you, toji, please!”

he lets out a snicker, using his free hand to gift your ass with an especially harsh smack. “not just yet, got that? you’ll cum when i say so, doll face.”

KAMO CHOSO # matches you

“h-harder, oh my—fuck.” choso’s voice cracks at the end of his sentence, eyebrows knitting together as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. he cradles you close to his body, hands splayed on your shoulder blades as he savors the feeling of your own wrapped around his neck.

“i didn’t know you’d like this,” you say, kissing away the tears from his eyes and brushing the stray hairs from his face.

“you’re always asking me to c-choke you,” choso grunts, eyes rolling back deliciously as his cock twitches inside you.

it was true. he’d finally gotten curious enough to ask you why you enjoyed having his hands wrapped around your neck during your sexual experiences together. he’d always been interested to learn more about your kinks and interests, regardless of whatever it was. sometimes it’s a hit or miss, but oftentimes . . he enjoys letting you take the lead and show him how you like it.

you’re seated on his lap, cock buried deep and somehow not soft despite his prior orgasms, many of which are leaking from your cunt onto his thighs. choso’s never been afraid to get messy, as evidenced by the dried spit covering the bite marks and hickeys all over your neck.

“you look perfect like this, cho,” you coo, words sounding extra honeyed to his oxygen deprived brain. “you’re sure this isn’t too tight?”

ever the masochist, he nods, tilting his head to the side and offering the tender skin of his jaw and neck for you to mark up. you accept choso’s invitation, hands loosening as you pepper kisses along his sweaty skin.

he smells like his nice, soft shampoo mixed with your perfume. you can feel his racing pulse beneath your lips, and he savors the way you smile against his skin before nipping at it.

“ah, baby,” choso moans, hair slipping into his face again, “need you to—need you to ride me.”

“anything for you,” is your loving reply, spoken into the softness of his cheek, which is flushed a dark red. you rock your hips against his, hands loosening again as you indulge in the delicious sensation of being full. because of your movements, more cum pools on his thighs, hot and sticky from being inside you for so long.

“i’m..” choso gulps, an uncontrollable whimper slipping from his throat to interrupt him. “‘m gonna cum—t-take all of it for me, please baby.”

“mhm,” you moan into his neck, the fresh bite marks sticky with spit as they press against your lips. “give it to me, cho. a-all of it . . everything.”

choso cums to your words. his cock spurts ribbons of white inside you, so deep you wonder how long it’ll take to pour out, and his head falls back, entirely spent. his breaths come in heaving puffs, face flushed and sticky with sweat, but he still manages to look at you.

exhausted, he pants, “you didn’t cum, did you?”

you shake your head with a small smile, fingers grazing over where you’d been gripping his neck. “‘s okay, you’re pretty tired. maybe later?”

deep inside, you hope choso will offer to get you off anyway. a lovesick, dazed grin spreads across his lips and he lightly nudges you backwards.

“come on, lay on your back for me.”

“why, cho? you’re exh—”

choso shushes you, pushing you back more insistently. “i want to make my pretty girl cum on my tongue. lay down, please?”