#i don't want to be the one that they say that about

[qqueenofhades]

Okay all -- few quick thoughts about the Elon Muskifying of the government, especially the takeover of the Treasury and associated financial data for every single US citizen and organization, that we are learning about in detail today.

Don't panic. This sounds bad, because it is bad. It's really, really bad. It's outrageously fascist bad. But we've still gotta take a deep breath and get through it.

This is the kind of shock-and-awe exercise of untrammeled fascist power where they are absolutely counting on gleefully terrorizing, paralyzing, and stunning you into mounting no resistance, or just giving up and giving in. They are literally live-tweeting it in real time and boasting about all the access and influence they have right now. They want you to know about it and feel like you can't do anything, so you might as well let it happen.

We have to show them that's not true.

TIME TO MAKE SOME NOISE. Because it's Sunday night, I've gone ahead and contacted my state Attorney General and both senators by email (but come Monday morning, we should all be calling). Here is the email that I wrote to my AG:

Dear Mr. [AG],

As you will be aware, today (February 2, 2025) the Trump administration has granted wide-ranging access to sensitive US Treasury data, including the personal and private information of [state] citizens, to Elon Musk's so-called "Department of Government Efficiency." Musk is an unelected private citizen who has no legal right to access this data, and is engaging in extensive intimidation and coercion to fulfill his personal and harmful ideological agenda. The present and material harm that this causes to US citizens, [state] residents, and basic laws of government, privacy, and financial security is direct, unconscionable, and actionable. I strongly urge you, in your capacity as [state] Attorney General, to file direct suit against the Trump administration, Elon Musk, the "DOGE" office, and any identifiable individuals who have taken part in this action, in order to protect consumer data, citizen privacy, and basic faith and trust in government.

All the best,

[Qqueenofhades]

Short! To the point! Doesn't waste time, tells him what I want him to do, how Elmo's nonsense directly harms the residents of my state, and why he should take action to stop it! And frankly, given how on-the-ball blue-state AGs have been thus far, they're probably already working on it. You are very welcome to copy-and-paste this message and fill in your AG's last name and your state as appropriate. Super easy to do. Takes five minutes. Call tomorrow.

If you are in a red state, your voice is particularly important right now. The Trumpsters are counting on and are even emboldened by blue state pushback, but you really need to make it start coming from Republican strongholds. Congressional Republicans will only feel the slightest amount of unease about docilely enabling this BS when it starts threatening their own personal power. Hit them where it hurts.

Other lawsuits are coming. Marc Elias, Democratic lawyer extraordinaire, is well aware of this situation and has noted on Bluesky that more lawsuits are in the works. He often wins his cases. This does not mean that you shouldn't loudly make noise elsewhere, but please remember that this is one of those 24-hour periods where, as noted, they are counting on demoralizing you with a nonstop blizzard of bullshit. It does not say anything about how this will play out long-term or the opposition that can and will be mobilized to stop it.

Once again: courage. Take the small steps that you can do today. Then take a breath and get off social media for a little while. Try to take the long view. One step at a time, we will get through this.

Courage.

[hrrtshape]

you can manifest anything in days, hours, even seconds.

you ever think about how you’re shifting realities right now? you just did it. again. and again. and. boom. there it goes. you’re not stuck in one solid, concrete world. you’re a flipbook of possibilities, and every second, a new page turns. the you reading this isn’t the you from five seconds ago. that version of you is gone. poof. never to return. god, i miss her.

so, why do people think manifestation takes time? time is just the illusion that makes reality feel digestible to our little human brains. but you don’t "wait" for things. you shift to them.

LOA isn’t about "forcing reality" like you’re wrestling fate to the ground. it’s about assuming you’re already in the reality where your desire exists. because the multiverse is infinite. every possibility is real somewhere. you’re not "creating" your dream life. you’re just moving to the timeline where it’s already true.

you can literally manifest in milli-seconds. the second you assume something is true, you land in the reality where it’s true. the only reason it sometimes feels "slow" is because you keep doubting it, wobbling between frequencies like a radio that’s not quite locked in.

for example, you want your dream body? kewl. shift to the parallel reality where you already have it. no, i don’t mean work out for six months and hope for the best. i mean assume, right now, that you have it, and live as though you do. time is fake, and you don't need it. your cells aren’t checking their watches. you can wake up in two hours with the body you’ve always wanted, because why not? that timeline exists. people have done it. the only thing between you and that reality is the idea that it’s "too unrealistic."

and what’s more unrealistic? the concept of shifting infinite times per second through an ever-expanding multiverse of possibility, or the idea that one of those infinite realities just so happens to contain the exact thing you want and all you have to do is land in it?

anyways. "shifting" and "manifesting" aren’t two different things. they’re just two perspectives on the same mechanism. you shift every second, every moment, all the time. and manifestation is just deliberate shifting. picking the station instead of letting the static choose for you.

so, no more "waiting." no more "how long will it take?" because it’s already happened. the moment you say this is my reality now. congrats. you just shifted.

　　　. . . you can read more about this here <3

[pureomi]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ she see money all around me, i look like i'm the man

includes: itoshi sae x fem! reader. 0.8k wc. fluff.

a/n: provider sae, we all cheered !! inspired by that one tiktok trend lol

not much grabs itoshi sae's attention, so you have to get creative.

"sae, i can't help pay rent this month." even though he doesn't glance away from the computer screen, the twitch on his face is obvious. the furrowed brows, his fingers coming to a halt on the keyboard, the imaginary question mark brewing over his head—all of it subtle but still priceless.

to be fair, he doesn't even recall being this confused when his parents agreed to send him abroad at the ripe age of thirteen—that too, all by himself!

for someone as strict as itoshi sae, he should receive an award for how quickly he paused his work to simply process whatever the fuck just came out of your mouth. "you can't, what?" he finally says, still keeping his gaze focused on the screen.

this is harder than you thought. not the pranking part; the holding in your laughter part. you somehow manage to keep it in for the sake of the bit.

"yeah, i just don't have the money to help you pay our rent this month," you continue, further emphasizing your dilemma (knowing damn well it doesn’t exist) awaiting his reaction.

but of course, your prank backfires spectacularly. the dramatic reaction you were hoping for? nowhere to be found. instead, he just crosses his arms and finally turns his chair to stare at you like you're the ridiculous one in this scenario. sae leans back in his chair, letting linger another one of those infuriatingly calm looks that make you want to simultaneously throw something at him and admire how annoyingly composed he is. "i know?" he claimed, neutrally, with a quirk of his brow like...duhh?

he continued, not even trying to be offensive, just merely stating the facts he has gathered living with you over the years. "when have you ever paid rent?"

…why would you?

he’s suddenly wondering if, overnight, you forgot you’re itoshi sae’s girl. hell, he doesn’t even let you pay for something as little as webtoon coins—hence why he made sure his card info was saved on your phone. rent was too far of a stretch to claim, even as a joke, and you know this too.

with how adamant sae is, the world could collapse before he let you contribute a single penny.

but damn, did that make it make it hard for you to continue this act.

you open your mouth to say something, anything, to salvage the prank, but your brain is running on a blank slate. "i mean," you clear your throat, trying to recover. "it’s about the…principle? you know, of financial responsibility and, um—" sae tilts his head, looking wholly unimpressed. "do you even know how much rent is?" your mouth opens. closes. he waits. you scramble. "well, yeah, of course, i—" "how much?" he asks, deadpan. your lips part, but the number? nowhere to be found. you had not, at any point in your life, thought to ask. sae quirks a brow, clearly entertained by your pathetic attempt to keep going. he rests his chin in his palm, watching you struggle with the kind of calm that makes it painfully obvious he’s enjoying this. "you were saying?" he prompts, his voice laced with amusement. you huff, cheeks growing warm. "forget it. you ruined it." but before you can even sulk properly, sae reaches forward and hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you in with zero effort. a yelp escapes you as he shifts you into his lap, securing you there with both arms now locked around you. your heart does this stupid little thing where it stumbles over itself because you can feel the warmth of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing, and—oh god—the way his lips are ridiculously close to your ear. "did i? or did you just get caught?" he murmurs, voice low and entirely too smug. "you—!" your hands instinctively grab onto his shoulders, trying to put some space between you two, but he doesn't let you. if anything, he picks you up to place you fully against his chest. "go on, finish your little act," he challenges, lips curling into a smirk. you glare at him, ignoring the rapid pounding of your heart. "i hate you." "yeah?" his voice is a quiet hum, teasing, daring you to keep going. "i guess that’s what i get for absolutely spoiling the shit out of my girlfriend." you pout, trying to look annoyed, but your resistance fades as you sink into his arms.

instead of staying smug, sae softens his grip just a little, his tone becoming more serious. "i take care of what’s mine, so don’t bother pulling tricks on me before you empty my bank account."

"do you understand?" he continues, his voice low and steady as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. the softness of the gesture contrasts with the firmness of his words, leaving you to wonder how he always manages to make you this flustered every time. all you can do is just nod, giving in to the fact that your boyfriend is a rich snob who always gets his way—one you’re completely obsessed with, no less. seriously, what are you gonna do with him? 🤍

[fictionalsweethearts]

SUBLIMATE THE PAIN | SEVIKA X READER | ARCANE

Synopsis: Sevika helps you to explore yourself and subside the pain and the shame of self pleasure.

Contains: comfort, soft!sevika, unexperienced!reader, wlw, first sexual experiences, soft talk, masturbation, fingering.

A pretty personal fic, tbh, but Sevika as a character seems to be patient and loving when it comes to sex and I'm here to write about it. Enjoy!

Sevika had promised you patience and comfort, a woman with her vast sexual experience knew the unpleasant and uncomfortable details of love. She knew the burning and the pain, the disgust, the sorrow, the shame and the numbness, and for that reason she had promised to accompany you in the process with as much patience as necessary.

She kissed you again on the neck, a mirror stood before you sitting on the bed, Sevika's vast hand ran over your breasts and her grey eyes looked at you through the reflection, inviting you to stop ignoring the signs of your body. Her breasts brushed your back, her mechanical hand gently parted your legs and revealed the juiciness and softness of your core.

"How do you pretend to touch her without knowing her?" The woman asked. "You ignore many things, babe."

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment since you had your first kiss of the evening, but you promised not to let shyness win you over this time. It was the third night and the third time you tried, the last two having ended with a sudden lock-in in the bathroom or tears of shame and frustration running down your cheeks.

"I can't. I swear I can't." You cried as Sevika kissed your wet cheeks.

"Of course you can, don't be like that with yourself."

You considered that Sevika could be your mentor in this unknown field for you, the guide that would allow you to understand sex as something more than a mere routine or necessary act. "To begin with, doll, we don't intend to have a child with this. Not even if we wanted to. Second, I've seen as many pussies in my life as I've smoked cigarettes and yours is undoubtedly beautiful."

You laughed to hide your shame, but Sevika meant it. She was decades ahead of you in sexual experiences, she knew the female anatomy in depth, taking the time to explore herself first. Sevika knew that no one could teach her how to have an orgasm, and she fondly remembers the first times she tried self pleasure in the silence of her room, picturing that pretty girl at the market who used to sell her peaches at a good price. It was another Zaun, more precarious, less saturated with pornography and violence, and certainly her brain needed little to start imagining. And the softness of the girl's breasts under her blouse, her long neck and olive eyes were more than enough to awaken that visceral desire in her.

She dedicated her first orgasm to that girl and her peach scent. It was in a way tender, but the starting point of an endless journey through the unexplored region of sexuality. She soon discovered that inserting a finger was pleasant, that if she moved it in a certain way, it was even more so. She discovered that her breasts were sensitive if touched properly, that her entire skin was a map of erogenous zones and tickles, that rubbing her pussy against the pillow was delicious, and that after an orgasm she slept better. And soon, as soon as she was over five foot seven and learned to smoke without coughing, Sevika discovered that touching herself tasted better if someone she liked did it for her.

"Slow." Sevika whispered, placing a kiss on your shoulder. "Look at yourself. What do you see?"

"My pussy." You whispered, barely giving your reflection time to look back at you.

"You say it like it's a bad thing."

"It's not bad it's…"

"Strange?"

"I don't usually look at my pussy, Sev." You groaned.

"You should, it's pretty." Sevika laughed, caressing your waist with her metal fingers. "Think of all the men who have been staring at their cocks for as long as they've been conscious of them hanging between their legs, do you think they feel ashamed?"

You hesitated. "No?"

"There are two things a man always believes to be true." Sevika said, her tone lighter. "That they have the fattest cock on the block and that they can duel a bear without weapons, and win."

You laughed, your legs shaking slightly. Sevika smiled back. "If only you had the confidence they have in themselves, doll. It would be all so different."

Your expression sobered, this time giving the gap between your legs a longer look, that much neglected organ that deserved just a little more recognition in your life and in the lives of many other women.

"Look at the labia majora, the shape of it, the length of it…" Sevika whispered. "It frames the labia minora, the ones closest to the entrance."

You'd seen them in some anatomy book at the library, but recognizing them on yourself was quite different.

"I should have shaved more." You groaned in frustration.

Sevika snorted. "Are you saying that because of you or me? Cause lemme tell you, a hairy pussy doesn't grosses me out. On the contrary."

"But it does to me."

"Mine repels you?" Sevika inquired, leaving you speechless for a moment.

"No…" you whispered. "Yours… it's yours."

"I see. Now think the same about yours, sweetie." Sevika said. "Yours is what it is and that's it. Don't you dare apologize for how your body looks. Do I apologize for not having an arm?"

And you fell silent once more. Sevika sighed, kissing your neck. “You get my point.”

Sevika reveled in your body, in your flushed cheeks and focused eyes. She loved seeing you present. “You’re already wet.” She whispered. “But it can get wetter. Take two fingers.”

Sevika brought you index and middle fingers parted to the sides of your entrance, urging you to press. “Massage, slow.” She whispered, showing you the movement.

You obeyed, following the motion timidly at first, until you soon understood the purpose. That movement, however subtle, opened a pent-up dam that began to make you wetter and wetter. You moaned, feeling the urge to touch the rest but Sevika held your wrist. “Start from edges.” She said. “Don’t rush it.”

It was one of your vices, quick, silent masturbation. With your legs closed, a hand on your mouth and your eyes closed tightly, as if you were committing a crime that you wanted to finish soon. They were fleeting moments of pleasure that later turned into disconnection with yourself.

But Sevika knew you deserved better than that.

With your index finger you traced circles on your labia majora, slowly while Sevika whispered in your ear, kissed it and bit your lobe, making you shudder subtly. It was a constant and gentle movement, with no other purpose than to explore yourself.

"Come closer to the center." Sevika whispered. "Apply pressure, rub a little."

Your eyelids fluttered at that tickling between your legs, the sticky and wet murmur of your folds that made Sevika moan softly and her breathing accelerate, her breasts pressing against your back. Your hips moved unconsciously, you looked at your hand through the mirror, delicately between your legs with the elegance of an erotic painting.

"You're so pretty." Sevika gasped. "Look how your cheeks blush."

"Yours too."

Sevika smiled. "It just turns me on like you can't imagine seeing you touching yourself."

Sevika was known to be an avid spectator. More than once she would abstain from participating and sit on the couch in the brothel with a cigarette between her teeth, asking her girl to give her a show. There was something about watching such an intimate ritual that stirred every nerve fiber in her. Watching them unfold before her, rubbing themselves the way they liked, moaning genuinely, shuddering, whimpering and sighing, being able to see how their own hand is able to take them on a roller coaster of sensations. That ritual held a power that Sevika was fascinated to behold, and tonight you were her apprentice and her muse.

Sevika squeezed your breast, playing with your hardened, sensitive nipple. She already wanted to taste them, but she had to be patient. The appetizer was your self-exploration, the dessert was her mouth between your legs.

"You know… when there's too much business to attend to." Sevika said, her grey eyes watching you. "I can't visit the girls, so I lay back on my bed with a cigarette between my lips…" she murmured. "And I squeeze my breasts. Over and over, I touch them… massage them… while thinking of old encounters, of sounds… smells. You know how I love smells."

"All of them." You whimpered.

"Yes… from the armpits to the neck, between a couple of breasts and a wet pussy." Sevika sucked in between her teeth. "All of them."

You remember how Sevika had taken to sniffing you the first time she had you. She inhaled the scent of your neck and the crook of your elbows, behind your knees and your armpits. It was a scent loaded with codes, codes that communicated intentions. The pheromones were the best card to attract the most finicky organ of the human body; the nose.

"Sev." You whimpered. "Can you…?"

"That would be the shortcut, so no. I won't touch you yet."

You groaned, tilting your head back as Sevika placed a kiss on the top of your head. "Patience." Sevika drew your hand to the shy hood at the top of your pussy. "Pamper her, that's what it's for."

You traced circles around it, letting out a gasp. Sevika kept her hand on your wrist, indicating the methodical and steady pace, drawing sweet moans from you. "I'm wet just by looking at you." She whispered.

You bit your lip, the urge to grind harder and harder. An orgasm was building inside you, steady and certain, as Sevika kissed your neck and motioned for you to quicken your pace. "Ah, fuck…"

"Moan better." Sevika said. "You can be as loud as you want here."

You whimpered, your hips seeking more contact as you moved and you rubbed against your hand. Sevika pressed her fingers against you, urging you on. "Keep going… don't rush." ​​

"Ah, Sev."

"You like it? It's better when you don' try to cum in two minutes."

You hurried your hand, but Sevika held you back. This wasn't a race and you were certainly getting ahead of yourself. "Old habits die hard."

Her metal hand held your legs apart, her other hand ascending to your chin to make you look at yourself in the mirror again. “We’ll try again, okay?”

This part was the one you liked the least. It wasn’t just the pain, it was the accumulated frustration from past sessions with no results. Sevika told you it was all in your head, that you were just as deserving of this pleasure as others. But you still felt skeptical.

“Middle finger.” She whispered, bringing it to your entrance. “Just press, darling. Soften your entrance.”

You pressed your lips together, obeying her command even though you preferred to rub. You eased the tip of your finger, gently moving it in circles. “It already burns.” You whined.

“I know. We talked about sublimating pain, remember?” You nodded. “Your body is already relaxed, you’re wet. You need to focus on breathing.”

It seemed that when it came to penetration, your body locked up. It was an overwhelming burn, a wall of fire if you will, closing in around your fingers and keeping you from entering. Sevika had tried this in the past, drawing whimpers from you that would never stop causing her guilt. This time, however, it was about allowing yourself to do it.

"I don't like it, Sev."

"You don't like it because you're predisposed to suffer." she insisted. "I know you can, babygirl."

You looked at Sevika through the mirror, her grey eyes soothing you. "Breathe, deep. One… two…" you inhaled, your hand between your legs, the wall of fire present. "Three. Exhale…"

You dared to venture deeper, your walls coupling to your finger as the burn quickened your breathing. "Shh." Sevika kissed your neck. "Breathe again."

One… two… three…

Exhale.

“Ah…” you moaned, inserting the last bit of your finger and feeling the latent but less painful tension. “Mhm.”

“Good girl, look at yourself.”

You opened your eyes, looking at yourself in the mirror. The palm of your hand rested against your clit, your finger inserted all the way in, like a new but unrejected intrusion. “Sev.”

“I told you you could, you're taking it whole.” Sevika smiled. "Can you move it?"

You barely curled your finger, but you recognized the rugous wall inside you. "Yes…" you moaned.

"Breath for me." continued Sevika, gently taking your wrist as she motioned you to curl your fingers once more. "One... two..."

"Mhm, Sev." you moaned, your eyes closing. "Fuck."

"Does it hurt?"

"The pressure." you managed to explain.

"You're tensing, baby. Relax..." Sevika let out a pant, kissing the side of your neck. "You're doing so good."

You endured and took a deep breath, curling your finger against the inner wall Sevika talked you about. You felt a tickle, barely diminishing due to an increasingly timid pain.

And Sevika seemed pleased. "You did good, baby. Rest."

You pulled your finger back when the pressure forced it, only for Sevika to cup your chin in her fingers and pull you in for a long kiss. "Well done." She said between kisses. "Fuck, you looked so beautiful."

Sevika showered you in kisses, from your mouth to your navel, repeating how proud she was of you. "You've crossed the threshold, gorgeous. You just need to practice."

You smiled, feeling the hint of a happy cry build up in your throat. But Sevika cheered you up with another kiss. "We'll try again tomorrow. Sooner than later I'll have you cumming in my fingers over and over again."

You chuckled, watching Sevika kiss your inner thigh. "It's rude to look at the food without eating it, y'know?" you teased her.

"How rude of me." she purred, her kisses coming closer to your wet and now dilated pussy. "You better moan properly, doll."

"All you want."

[eicsferrari]

never met - op81 smau

summary: people start making up rumors about oscar and yn. problem is they never actually met

face claim: random girls from pinterest

a/n: this is chaos but it was fun to write hope you like it

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

gossipf1 singer yn and oscar piastri are reported to be dating according to inside sources

view all comments

user5 please let this be true

lando rue, when did this happen?

user14 helppp what is lando doing here

user3 my two worlds colliding

user7 she's not good enough for him

user8 ?? he's not good enough for her

yn inside sources who??? i never saw this man in my life😭😭

user10 he's a formula 1 driver

yn oh i only know lewis hamilton aka the goat aka the loml

user10 fair

yn he looks cute tho👀

sabrinacarpenter no yn!

yn 😊😊

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption: this is the man yall think i pulled? Damn thank u

replies

↪sabrinacarpenter you are insane😭

↪lando +61 12345678 text him

જ ♡ જ

yn jazzy nights are my favorite

♡liked by sabrinacarpenter, oscarpiastri and others

view all comments

user6 best night of my life

sabrinacarpenter i'm in love with you😍

yn me when i see you

user1 oscar liked...

user4 don't start

user1 i just stated a fact

user9 obsessed with your voice, i want you to sing me to sleep every night

જ ♡ જ

gossipf1 yn and oscar spotted hanging out after her concert

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user8 i fear this couple would be too iconic

user4 just... no

user5 i dont know this man my ass

yn in my defense i really haven't met him then!

lando it's true i can confirm

lando i can also confirm yn was oscar's most listened artist last year

oscarpiastri why are you here?

lando gossip is my bat signal

જ ♡ જ

yn trip made it out of the groupchat

view all comments

lando groupchat and it's only two people

yn get off my comments

lando i got you his number and this is how you repay me?

user9 lando tell us who it is🙏🏼

user3 if lando set them up it has to be oscar

user7 i'm in love with her aesthetic

user5 white shirt=oscar

user14 stop we don't know

sabrinacarpenter did my invite get lost in the mail?🤨

yn babe i'm sorry he means nothing you are the love of my life

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption good company yn

replies

↪user4 gossipf1 ended up setting you two up huh

↪sabrinacarpenter i remember when i was the one taking her pictures...💔

જ ♡ જ

yn sorry osc i go where lewis goes🏎️

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oscarpiastri 😐

user4 osc🥺🥺

scuderiaferrari everyone is a ferrari fan ♡liked by author

francocolapinto hamilton fan first, a girlfriend second. i respect that

user5 did he just confirm that they are girlfriend and boyfriend?

mclaren 💔

yn sorry😔

charles_leclerc i approve son oscarpiastri

yn forza ferrari!

user26 we lost her to a sports guy...

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption prettiest girl is in fact my girlfriend

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↪yn giggling blushing throwing up kicking my feet🥺🫶🏼

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yn posted a story

caption he's still mad i did not wear orange

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↪lando it's papaya not orange😡

yn same fucking thing

lando it's not !!

yn ok but the word papaya is so ugly

lando YOU TAKE THAT BACK

જ ♡ જ

yn the rumors are now true, i'm his favorite artist and he's my (second) favorite driver

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user18 she's gorgeous😍 he's just there😐

francocolapinto yes yes you might kiss but did he ever say he wanted to learn your language just to understand your jokes? i don't think so

yn call me when you are his top artist on spotify loser

user12 don't mind me i'm just patiently waiting for the love songs this will inspire

oscarpiastri you are never going to let me live this down, right?

yn you are stuck with me and my bad jokes sorry bro

sabrinacarpenter just remember she was mine first papaya boy

oscarpiastri noted🫡

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri she finally wore papaya

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user2 she's so hot🥵

yn not that word again😭

lando i will block you if you keep hating on the papaya

yn do it i dare you

yn i look so good tho

oscarpiastri you always look amazing

yn i love me a boy who can sweet talk

lando god stop being cheesy on main🤢

yn weren't you going to block me??

lando i should have

yn just do it you coward

user23 yes yn put the car guy in his place!

lando why are you supporting her when your page is dedicated to me??? are you a fan or a hater?

user23 i'm your biggest fan! but i support women's rights and women's wrongs so i'm with yn

yn HA even your fans like me better😛

lando you stole my teammate and now my fans what else do you want from me😭😭

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lando posted a story

caption disgusting

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↪yn disgustingly cute yes

lando whatever helps you sleep at night

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption dont let their online banter fool you, they are friends

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↪yn babe don't expose us like that😔

જ ♡ જ

oscarpiastri 🧡

view all comments

yn DELETE what if lewis sees this?

user21 she's so real

lewishamilton i feel betrayed

yn nooo💔😔 you will always be n1 in my heart

oscarpiastri 😐

yn deal with it

yn i am so incredibly proud of you and i love supporting you🥺🧡

oscarpiastri thank you for being here<3

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption i'm going to tell my kids this is their dad

જ ♡ જ

yn posted a story

caption just kidding, i love you oscar

replies

↪ oscarpiastri i love you more❤️

[prlssprfctn]

No matter if you choose to consider that Jason had the worst time ever in the League of Assassins or that, quite opposite, it was more or less okay, I think we all should unite and agree that Jason would be Ra's bane of existence. This boy is a brat. A certificated one, even. He is not an easy boy to handle, never and ever.

Ra's, after locking Jason up away from the society for a few days: Now. Do you realise what I am trying to say to you? You should focus on your studies. On your trainings. Forget about easy, normal life, about teenage shenanigans. Find peace. Throw unnecessary thoughts away.

Jason, yawning: Yeah, okay. Sure.

Ra's waking up in the 5am because someone is blasting NSYNC's Bye Bye Bye on the whole castle: Talia. What is this?

Talia, shrugging: Jason found old music speakers. He says he is... focusing like this. Just like you advised him to.

Ra's with his eye twitching: Is. he. Now.

Ra's: (accidentally trips on his cloak)

One of the Assassins, in their local comms: Chat, clip that

Ra's, frowning: What is that? What had you said? What is this nonsense?

Assasin: Uh, general had taught us—

Ra's: STOP LISTENING TO HIM, FOR GOD'S SAKE

Ra's: Talia, we need to send the boy to All-Caste. I think he needs some time away. From us. From me. Specifically.

(A certain amount time later)

Ra's, sighing in relief: Finally, peace—

Jason, spawning behind his back: Hi.

Ra's, groaning: YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE THE CLEANSING CEREMONY, OH MY GOD

Jason: Wanna check All Blade? It is kinda cool.

Ra's, pausing: ...Yeah.

Ra's farewelling Jason, who returns to Gotham: I have nothing to wish upon you. Be as annoying to Batman as you were to me.

Jason, smirking: Aw-w, I barely unleashed my annoyingness with you, Ra's. Bruce is going to suffer more.

Ra's: ...Good.

Ra's, closing the door behind him: Barricade the castle. Set bombs. I DON'T WANT TO SEE HIM HERE EVER AGAIN!!!

Also Ra's a half of a year later, watching footage of Jason terrorising everyone's life in Gotham, with tears in his eyes: That's my grandson. I am so proud of him.

Talia, raising her eyebrows: You tried to drown him in the Lazarus Pit. Twice.

Ra's: Shhh.

Talia: Then I'll invite him on holidays this year.

Ra's: NO.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"i just wanted to tell you incase you forgot... 'i love you',, 3k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: the ways in which you tell sylus "i love you" and ways in which he reciprocates contains: lnds sylus x mc?reader (fem in mind but she/her is used like once or twice) ,fluff! ,kitten/sweetie used as pet names ,domestic!sylus feel ,cuddling ,playful banter ,baker sylus ,incorrect evol use but its wholesome ,sylus chases u around ,twins feature ,not much to say other than soft!sylus being in love w u / both of u being lovesick for e/o + twins shenanigans at the end (i think thats it) note: (mostly edited ,will check back later) added this track last minute but immediately knew who i wanted to write it for. first fic of the event woooo~ :x

-

sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.

or at least, that's what you'd initially thought.

a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who was above everyone else and the most sought-after criminal, wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands...

someone like that didn't know love, surely.

but oh, how wrong you were.

you were the only one that knew, under all of that tough exterior, the true tenderness that lied beneath it.

and you were the sole subject to it, from the very beginning.

-

you woke unceremoniously in a bed that was not your own, surrounded in a blanket of warmth but not solely due to the comforter surrounding your plush body:

it was mainly due to the otherworldly individual beneath you, who you were using as your personal body pillow of sorts.

you stir, letting out a small groan before peeking your eyes open to catch a glimpse of the man before you.

the big, bad leader of onychinus, sleeping soundly in bed next to you, arm firmly wrapped around your waist and your head comfortably planted on his chest— your favorite makeshift pillow.

you can't help but to smile at the sight.

feeling a touch mischievous, you begin trailing your fingers, touch featherlight, up from his waist towards his chest and back down, slowly shifting to drawing mindless shapes in the expanse of exposed skin.

he doesn't react to your touches, still deep in sleep, so you change your tactic.

you drag a single index finger up, up, up past his slender waist, then his slowly rising and falling chest, his pretty neck then up towards his sharp jawline to poke at his cheek.

he grunts in his sleep, but nothing more.

you let out a huff, lifting your head up and staring at the serene expression on his face— even lost in the land of dreams, you couldn't help but to admire every feature of his visage.

a couple of minutes pass by just like this until you decide you're feeling a little bored again.

so you repeat your earlier action, dragging your finger up slowly, slowly, just about to poke his cheek again—

when your wrist is swiftly caught by a warm hand before you reach it.

"it seems my dream of a kitten mistaking me for a toy wasn't a dream after all."

sylus' crimson eyes crack open to look directly into your bright (albeit still slightly-sleepy) ones, heart full at the little playful smile you're sporting.

"she seems bored," he muses, thumb from the hand still gripping your wrist gently caressing your knuckles back and forth— a subconscious habit whenever his hands hold yours.

"should i entertain her?"

his question goes unanswered as he shifts over on his side while letting your hand go at the same time, causing you to slip from your spot on top of him to behind him, facing his back.

"—or leave her to her own devices?"

"sylus!"

your laughs are airy, quickly enveloping the spacious bedroom, and sylus finds himself smiling at the sound.

you don't leave him alone for long, quickly pressing against him and hugging his large frame from behind.

sylus releases a playful scoff. "is this a new attack of yours?"

"yeah, you can't escape, i'm going to stick to you like this forever and ever!"

"how touching," his voice is filled with amusement. "i think i can get used to this..." he trails off, smile evident in his words.

you stay that way for awhile when you decide to repeat your earlier actions in the new space, retracting a hand as you begin to draw shapes into his back this time. at the same time, sylus begins to hum whatever song is on his mind, eyes shut as he revels in your touches, neither one of you in a rush to get up from this sacred space for two.

"what are you drawing, kitten?"

your finger dances across the bare canvas of his back.

"guess," you answer simply as you continue.

he lets out a huff of a laugh. "not going to make it easy for me, are you?"

you hum in response, dragging your fingers to create imaginary lines over the muscles.

"is this... a kitten?" you can almost hear the raise of his eyebrow and see the funny yet curious expression on his face.

"oooh, i didn't think you'd get that one. how about..."

your finger traces several lines again, taking your time before you stop and wait for his answer.

"hmmm..." the way he's concentrating trying to figure it out fills you with amusement like no other.

"a... plane?"

"wrong, it was mephisto!"

"..it was close."

"are you calling mephisto a plane..?"

"..let's move on to the next one."

a hearty laugh rings out as you pretend to erase the image.

"wait until i tell him~"

"you wouldn't dare," he jokingly threats, causing you to only giggle back in response.

you decide on something much simpler this time.

your movements are slowed as you start near the center, drawing a tilted line outward and up before curving it inward and mimicking the same on the opposite side, connecting them to form a heart.

i love you.

a short, amused laugh leaves him, immediately recognizing the shape, but shaping a question instead of an answer.

"i'm not too sure, sweetie. might have to try that one again," he says, voice soft and tender, a hint of a smile within it.

say it once more.

so you do.

you repeat your action, slower, drawing another imaginary heart on his bare skin and within it, your unspoken promise of devotion towards him.

i love you.

this time, he turns around to face you, pulling you flush against him. you let out a short laugh before its devoured by his lips on yours, caught in a dance of love and devotion, giggles bubbling out of you between the breaks as you try to catch your breath while he needily chases your lips.

and the message he wishes to convey is clear as day.

i love you, too.

-

someone like him was the last person you thought you'd ever associate sweets with.

but after the time spent together, you find it hard to imagine anyone else cautiously reading the instructions, mixing the ingredients precisely, and carefully readying the icing for the fresh cupcakes that have come out of the oven and are left cooling nearby, except for him.

you tiptoe into the kitchen, watching him prepare a piping bag for the freshly-made icing he's made while he hums (when you asked him why he goes through the trouble of making it from scratch, he countered by asking "doesn't it taste better when you put in the work for something?" and despite playfully scoffing at the little smirk he offered, you couldn't help but to agree with him).

you smile at his focused expression, reading glasses perched on his nose, some remnants of ingredients spotting his clothes as he decides on which icing tip to use for these particular cupcakes (the last time he made them, they resembled simple flowers. based on the icing tip he was inspecting now, it seemed he was going to try for roses this time).

now just a step away from his back, you reach out both hands, index fingers out as you poke both sides of his lower back at the same time.

he jolts at the sensation, small gasp emitting from his lips and shock washing over him as he cranes his neck over his shoulder to catch your satisfied smile.

"another sneak attack, kitten?"

"i couldn't resist."

you step up beside him, taking a peek into the bowl filled with icing.

"red this time? i would've never guessed."

he scoffs, smiling.

"am i that predictable to you?"

"well, after spending so much time together, its only natural, right?"

"its bad if an enemy learns to read you so easily; who knows what trap will be set in the future."

"you're right," your words trail off as you step back, causing the sly crow before you to raise a brow.

"they can plan an attack when you're vulnerable, like—"

behind him again, you jump forward, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"this!"

his hearty chuckle rings through the kitchen.

even if he saw your intention from the start, he made no move to stop you. he'd surrender to you if you so much as asked.

"so? what will you do with me now that i'm caught?"

"hmmm..."

you hum in thought, noticing sylus has picked up the piping bag and was inserting the icing tip into it, getting ready to fill the bag with the red icing.

he's waiting for your answer when one of your hands reaches forward, dipping your finger into the icing bowl and quickly withdrawing your arms, swiftly turning around—

when you feel yourself being lifted into the air.

you let out a surprised squeal, giggling as you thrash around in the hold of sylus' evol, said man's attention still on the icing bag as he scoops a dallop of red into it.

"such a naughty kitten," he says, evol pulling your suspended body over to him slowly as you laugh the entire way.

"and naughty kittens deserve a punishment," as he speaks, he dips his own finger into the bowl of icing, red now gathered onto the tip before looking up at you through the rims of his glasses.

realizing what he's planning, you thrash around to no avail within the confines of his evol, trying to create distance between you two.

"nooooo! im sorry! please- aha, hahaha! sylus!"

your attempt is futile, sly smirk curling on sylus' lips as his finger moves closer and closer to your smiling face that's trying to inch further and further away, pressing his finger right onto your nose, painting it in red.

"noooooo!" you whine, sylus chuckling in amusement.

"how cute," he muses. "maybe this will teach you to behave in the kitchen."

he finally lets you down with his evol, eyeing you as you're standing upright and before him once again.

"now, go and wait till i'm finished, i'll even let you have the first taste," he bargains, turning his back to you and walking back towards the icing bowl.

despite this, a smirk plasters itself onto your face as you creep your way up behind him once again, red icing still staining your finger from moments ago stretched out, ready to paint his cheek—

"i thought i told you to behave."

despite the countless attempts to catch him by surprise attacks, he knows what you're saying through them:

i love you.

your wrist is easily caught in his grasp, stopping your attack before it can hit his cheek, a displeased groan emitting from your throat.

he brings your icing-covered finger close to his lips, lapping at the red. you watch as it momentarily stains his lips before his tongue licks them clean, humming at the flavor.

"it seems.. better this time, don't you think?" he turns, looking down at you.

you huff out a breath, trying to hide your embarrassment at his little action.

"be patient, kitten, i'll be done soon enough..." he trails off, hand unraveling from your wrist. "or do i have to restrain you?"

"i'm going, i'm going!"

with that, you scurry out of the kitchen to wait in the living room, sylus' amused chuckle surrounding the kitchen soon replaced by his soft, mindless humming once again.

i love you more.

-

a man of his caliber having a playful side seemed like a far-fetched idea.

until you experienced it for yourself.

and since the very first time, you're convinced he may be the most playful person on the entire planet.

to be fair, you kind of expected this, after all, its not like it was the first time.

but when you snatched a cupcake when his back was turned and took a bite, you didn't expect him to notice— at least, not right away.

but he did, and when he began counting, you instinctually bolted out of the kitchen, cupcake still in hand, giggles trailing behind you, determined to not be caught by him.

you dashed past the living area, two crow masks peeking up from their spot on the sofa and shifting to another figure— their boss— who was trailing behind you, watching until your figures disappeared down the long corridor of the hall.

"i give her five minutes," kieran pipes up, turning towards his brother.

"i give her three!"

"you're on!"

. . .

even as you dash down the halls, careful not to hit anything and running in scattered directions, it doesn't take long for sylus to close in on you.

you make it to a lounging area, movements slowed from the amount you've ran in the past couple of minutes, beginning to catch your breath after not sensing him around when you feel a weight on your shoulders.

"caught you."

"...!"

he's equally out of breath, taking a few moments to even his breathing, leaning against you more and more before pushing your body down onto the sofa. you fall back on the cushions with a short oof! still in the midst of catching your breath before sylus lays what feels like his entire weight right on top of you.

"sylus!"

you push against his broad chest, completely crushed by his beautiful build of a body, laughter ringing through the living space at your futile struggle against the smirking man above you.

"it seems a little kitten is stuck," he heaves a couple of breaths. "what are you going... to do about it?"

"get... off!" you laugh.

"i'm tired after all of that chasing... not to mention this is comfortable for me," he takes a couple more breaths, looking down at your slightly-sweaty face. "so i'd rather not."

"you're heavy, sylus!"

you weakly hit at his chest when he closes his eyes, pretending to fall asleep on top of you.

"sylus!"

slowly, he lifts himself up with his arms, hands planted flat on either side of your head.

"attacking me after making me chase you? how very cruel of you, sweetie."

your breaths are mostly even now, watching for sylus' next move.

he slowly begins moving his head down, and your eyes naturally flutter closed, expecting a kiss.

he takes this opportunity to plant his knees into the sofa, shifting his weight onto them as he leans down, breath fanning your lips.

"you trust me, sweetie?" he whispers against your lips.

"always," you whisper back.

he suddenly lifts his head, arms lifting at the same time before his fingers immediately begin dancing over your midriff.

your eyes shoot open in shock and betrayal, laughs immediately ripped from your throat as you thrash beneath him, trying your best to get away despite being caged into the sofa.

"s-sy-sy- ahahah! sto-o-p! s-stop! hahaha!"

his fingers continue their brutal attack on your sensitive skin, bubbling laughter infectious as sylus joins you, pleased smile adorning his face at your current state.

he relents shortly after, allowing you to catch your breath again as he looks down at you in a daze, reaching out to straighten your hair.

"kiss..." your voice is breathless, but he catches it.

"hm?"

"you still owe me... a kiss...." you breathe out, looking up at him expectantly. "from earlier."

"ah, of course."

he leans down, capturing your lips with his, hovering over your body as your arms snake around his neck, pouring your hearts into the action. you both kiss with equal fervor, chasing each others lips, never able to get your fill of the other.

i love you.

he pulls away slowly, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close in fear of him leaving you all of a sudden. the look in his eyes says i'm not going anywhere, his forehead touching yours as you both breathe each other in before he tucks his head into your shoulder.

"lets stay like this... just for a bit," his quiet, husky breath hits your ear and you shiver at the sensation.

"okay," you smile, hands petting through his silver locks.

i love you, most.

and you stay together, just like that, losing track of time in the world reserved for two, heartbeats syncing up as you meld against one another, both with the shared sentiment of never letting go.

(only at your insistence of taking a shower and slipping into some fresh clothes when you think he's dozed off does he relent, slowly getting up and scooping you into his arms, making his way down the hall towards his room).

-

sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.

at least, that's what you'd initially thought.

a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who seemed to be above everyone else, the most sought-after criminal wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands—

the same hands that cradled your face, caressed your hair any chance he got, tickled you when you least expected it, carried you so lovingly at your beck-and-call, hugging you close to his chest, close enough that you could feel his beating heart—

the heart of a man who loved so wholly and completely, devoting his entire being to you.

so, despite what anyone else may think, may also assume at first glance, you knew the truth:

despite the odds, sylus was someone that knew love the best.

-

epilogue:

"so... who won?" luke turns to his brother under the crow mask.

"i did, obviously," kieran is all-too confident.

"what?!? nuh-uh, she was definitely caught in less than five minutes!"

"did we watch the same thing? that was maybe six!"

"are you.... stupid?"

"rude!"

"i didn't think you'd try to lie your way to win," luke crosses his arms over his chest.

"i am not lying!"

"are too!"

the bickering continues for a couple more minutes until luke pipes up again.

"wait, what was the prize for whoever won the bet?"

"......"

kieran is the first to speak up again.

"you know what, since you won, you can be the one to tell boss the reason so many cupcakes are missing."

"WHAT???"

later, the cameras in mephisto's eyes would relay the twins chasing each other around— just amongst the footage of them scarfing down the freshly-made rose-icing cupcakes.

-

a/n: spreading the soft sylus agenda... this is inspired by a number of domestic art/tweets ive seen if i find them ill add but.. he's so soft..... i adore him

-

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirty-two —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 5.1k tags: death. blood and gore. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. enemies to lovers. SA and implication of child SA (very subtle). summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival. a/n: clearly I am bad at estimating how long this story will take lol

The tray of food crashes to the floor at her feet. Salome gasps. Her hand shoots back, fumbling for the doorknob, and her lips part, ready to call the guard you know is just outside.

"If you call for the guard," you stop her, "I’ll cut deeper."

She clamps a hand over her mouth. "Please—stop! Hurting yourselves is a sin, a great dishonor to the body God gave you—"

“It is,” you agree calmly. You press the shard deeper into the cephalic vein, ignoring the bite of pain. Blood spills in a fresh, startling curtain down your arm, the wound mimicking the severity of an arterial cut. “And she’ll blame you for it. You’re the one she entrusted to watch over us, and you didn't notice we broke one of the mugs."

"I did not think you would—"

"What happens to you,” you cut her off, pointing the bloody shard at her stomach, “—and your baby when the two new child-bearers die because of your failure? Because I will die, if I cut any deeper. This artery,” you lie, tapping the wound for emphasis, “is important. If I finish slicing through it, I’ll bleed out in less than a minute. Not enough time for you to get help. Not even enough to try saving me yourself.”

Her lashes flutter rapidly through a swell of tears. "You could have a good life here—"

"Answer me. What happens to you if I die?"

She swallows hard. "She’ll punish me," she whispers frightfully. "I have seen what happens to those who fail her. She might take my child and I will... never see them. Please, don’t do this—”

"Why should we care about you and your child when you are okay with them killing an eleven-year-old girl tomorrow?"

A flash of shame crosses her face. "I'm sorry. I-I didn't know Maman would want the girl. The offering has never been so young before. But it is God's will, there is nothing I can do to—"

"What you can do is open the cell. Open it and we will kill Maman, then you won't have to worry about anyone taking your baby. But if you don't open it, then we die in here and you will face her punishment."

Her lips part, but nothing comes out. She looks between you and Nereida, eyes darting wildly, fingers twitching against her stomach. 

"Decide before I bleed out!"

"I... I can't," she says pitifully.

With a glance at Nereida, she takes her cue, digging into her vein.

"Open the cell," Nereida urges far more soothingly than you can, blood dripping to her elbow. "We won't hurt you. We want Maman gone, not you."

Salome whimpers under her breath, but her fingers move before her mind catches up, reaching inside her robe to retrieve the key, gripping it like it might burn her. She shuffles closer but pauses, inhaling deeply before finally reaching the door. Her hands shake so violently that the key rattles against the lock. It slips against the metal, failing to match the hole, and your finger twitches when she nearly drops it.

"Mais si elles ne parviennent pas à la tuer..." The whisper leaves quietly, lost beneath the veil. "Sa punition pour moi sera pire."

Then, her hand curls back around the key.

She swallows hard—and steps back.

No. 

You see red.

A growl curls at your mouth and you snap forward, grabbing onto her dress through the bars before she can retreat too far, and pulling her flush against them, her forehead banging into the metal. Before she can scream, you clamp a bloody hand over her mouth and then press the piece of broken mug to her neck with just enough pressure to make her panic. She gasps into your palm, struggling. You dig it harder, forcing her body to turn still and rigid.

"Twix—"

"I tried doing things the nicer way," you speak in a low snarl, veering off the script you and Nereida conjured. Round, glossy eyes stare into yours. "You should have made up your mind before getting within my reach. Now give her the key. I’d hate for my hand to slip."

Another sharp press into her skin wrings a squeak from her, her breath coming out jagged and uneven against your palm. Trembling, she extends an arm through the bars, offering the key to Nereida.

The moment Nereida takes it, she fumbles to find the lock from the outside, her fingers searching blindly. The key scrapes against the metal—once, twice—before a soft click finally reaches your ears.

The door swings open.

You don’t hesitate. Keeping your grip firm over Salome’s mouth, you shove through the opening and swing around to the other side. Before she can react, you force her back into the cell, driving her onto the bed. The veil tears free from her head as you pin her down, your weight pressing her into the mattress, the sharp fragment still poised at her throat. When her legs begin to flail helplessly, you order Nereida to grab them. She clasps Salome's ankles to keep her from bucking you off.

"You were afraid of the wrong person," you hiss, your nose nearly brushing hers. "Maman may have spared your life because she values her baby makers—but I don’t. Answer everything I ask, or I’ll show you just how merciless I can be."

The dishonest threat rolls off your tongue with enough force to make her nod frantically, fear widening her eyes. But what she doesn’t need to know—what you won’t let her see—is the part of you still holding back. Because even now, even as you pin her down and press the shard to a vital piece of her throat, you’re careful. You don’t dig hard enough to damage. You don’t let your weight bear down on the swell of her stomach.

"I'm glad we understand each other. I am going to lift my hand, and you're not going to scream. You're going to tell me everything we need to know about the guards out there."

Her lips are puffy and raw when you set them free. 

"There is only one outside the d-door," she sputters in a whisper. "B-but there are more... more by the... h-homes and the keep."

"The keep?"

"Where they keep the new m-males," she chokes out, snot dripping from her nose.

"That's in the old slaughterhouse, right?"

She nods.

"How many guards are over there exactly?"

"I do not know." At your glare, she rushes out, "B-but there are less after d-dinner ends. Many go to sleep, and switch shifts at sunrise."

You mull over the information, eyes darting across her face. “And the child—the offering? Where is Maman keeping her?”

A terrible look of fear ripples through her eyes. "Only few are allowed near the offering b-before her ascension. 

"So you're telling me you don't know?" you seethe in her face.

She sobs. "I know they... they will offer her to the démons right before the sun rises. The night is when God’s wrath is strongest, but it’s in the morning—when hope ascends—that we seek atonement."

Despite further pressing, that seems to be the extent of what she knows—or she's still withholding. Either way, you're satisfied enough. You rip strips of the sheet, using one to gag her and two more to bind her wrists and ankles. You and Nereida wrap your wounded wrists tightly to stop the flow. Then, you remove her white gown. You’ll need something to wear that doesn't easily mark you as an escapee, but there’s only the one white dress and veil. You hurriedly slip into them, making sure all of your hair and face is hidden, leaving Nereida still in the thin slip. The shoes Salome wears are thin and made of unsupported leather, but they are all you have to tuck your bare feet into.

Salome said there will be fewer guards after dinner. You and Nereida listen carefully to every sound that bleeds through the window. When you hear a few exchanges of bonne nuit, you figure people are starting to retire for the night. You take this as your cue to grip your makeshift weapon. The guard outside the door is expecting Salome to leave at some point, giving you the perfect opportunity to catch him off-guard while dressed as her.

You quietly open the door to the warm summer night, the long gown ghosting around your ankles. As expected, a well-built man leans against the side of the building, arms crossed languidly. No one else is in sight, which brings you some relief. When his gaze shifts to you, he raises a brow.

"Tout va bien, mademoiselle? Vous êtes restée là-dedans un moment."

The last word barely makes it out of his mouth. Within a heartbeat, you spring at him like the head of a snake, one hand over his mouth and the other stabbing his neck with the shard, then sweeping it through the thick of his trachea. A gush of blood oozes out in one thick stream, before he gargles out a strangled choke and turns to dead weight against the wall. 

With Nereida's help, you quickly push his body inside the building to keep anyone from spotting it. 

"Wear this," you usher, already starting to undress him. Like the man who visited you, he's wearing a grey cloak. Though it's too big for her, and bloodied, it will be enough to keep her discreet in the dark, her long hair safely tucked beneath the hood.

Two things race through your mind: the ticking time toward sunrise and the fact that you still don’t know how many more men you’ll have to take out to reach Ghost, Price, and Kyle. The knife you find on the guard adds a small weapon to your shitty arsenal. You have no idea where they could’ve stored the guns and ammo they took from you, or your bow. How you'll manage to fight through a community of cultists without those is a worry you can’t afford to dwell on right now—one step at a time.

After a few minutes of collecting yourselves, urgency pulls the two of you outside, free from the barred enclosure for the first time in almost four days. In the blanket of night, you quickly scan the area, taking in what you’re up against. The community appears fairly spread out, with only six small farmhouses like the one you just escaped from, along with a few larger structures in the near distance—likely where they house the men. You catch a glimpse of a fenced pasture’s perimeter and the unmistakable stench of cattle fills the air. Despite the faint shuffle of hooves and grey plumes of smoke from a few of the chimneys, everything is eerily still, leaving an unnerving amount of quiet for your heart to shatter through.

From what you can see, there aren’t many places to hide Blue, but there could be more to this place beyond what’s visible, especially since the chapel you first saw is nowhere in sight. But none of that matters right now; you need to find the others first if you’re going to have any real chance of saving her and getting out of here.

The next male you encounter spots you first as you make your way up the gravel road towards the barn, the sound of his boots making your hand tighten on the knife's handle. He greets you unassumingly in French, causing Nereida to startle beside you as his shadow approaches. Then he stops in front of her, his shoulders tensing and his hand hovering near a knife at his waist.

"Que fais-tu avec la femelle? C’est interdit!"

Again, you go for the throat, desperate to silence any screams that could cause alarm. You get a good swipe at the base of it, but he is at least a head taller than you, making it difficult to stab fully. He grabs you by the waist, clearly in shock that a veiled female just sprung on him with a knife, but swipes a fist at your face nonetheless. The force spreads through your temple, thrusting your head to the side. 

"Take the knife from him," you hiss at Nereida through the pain, who until now was effectively frozen. She finally moves, using the distraction you've caused as he clutches his bleeding neck, and snatches the knife still hanging at his waist. Once she has it, you leap at the disarmed man again, this time stabbing his liver. With a muffled grown, he face-plants into the gravel, quickly soaking it with blood. 

"The body," she stutters worriedly. "We need to hide it."

You look around, spotting stacks of chopped wood.

"Over there. Help me drag him."

Once the body is heaved behind the logs, you pat him down in search for anything else, but there's nothing.

"Keep that on you," you tell her, and she gives a quick nod, hiding the knife under her sleeve.

You keep following the road up to the fence, your white dress splattered with crimson, resembling the dotted stars overhead. The 'keep' is somewhere by the barn that man said, but you notice smaller buildings to the right and to the left of it. Which one looks like an old slaughterhouse? It's too difficult to tell even when you squint, so you grab Nereida's arm and quickly lower by a bush.

"Watch that one, and I'll keep an eye on this one. Whichever building has more guards patrolling is probably where they're holding them."

"Okay," she whispers, peering around the bush.

Minutes pass. The building on the right has more shadows skirting around it—three guards total. You take a moment to study their movements. One is stationed near the back, the other two at the front.

"I want you to take the one at the back and wait for me. I'll handle the other two."

"How do I take him?" she whispers uncertainly. "He’ll see me coming."

"You’ll come at it from an angle." You point toward a stack of hay. "Sneak over there, quietly. Once you're behind it, circle around and approach where he can't see."

She hesitates, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. "I’ve never—"

"Never killed anyone?" 

The way she grips the knife, her fingers white on the handle, confirms it.

"These people deserve it, Nereida," you say, forcing her to meet your gaze. "John is in there."

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, the weight of it all presses down on her. When she opens them again, her jaw is set, and her grip on the knife tightens.

After reminding her where to strike, you pause for a moment, watching as she sneaks over to the hay. Then, you move toward the other two, slipping behind a tree for cover, but your foot catches on something and you almost trip, catching yourself against the bark. Your breath hitches and you steal a peek at them to make sure they didn't hear you. No—they are too busy murmuring to each other, laughing in a low exchange.

When you glance down, you spot a shovel half-buried into the ground, its handle sticking out. Carefully, you wriggle it free, having to grit your teeth to fully remove it. This will let you stun one while you deal with the other. Inhaling deeply to center yourself, palm tight over the splintered wood handle, you close in on the two guards.

The shorter one with curly hair spots you just before you take a swing, his eyes widening. The shovel slams into his skull, effectively making him stumble to the ground, but slips from your grip from the force. The other guard whirls around, hand slapping for the pistol at his belt. You deliver three consecutive stabs to his stomach, heart, and cheek. The gun never leaves his waist before he falls dead.

You suck in a gulp of air just as the curly-haired one regains his footing. His head is still heavy from the blow, and before he can draw his knife, you shove him in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground. You pin him easily beneath you, his movements sluggish and weak. The two of you wrestle in the grass, jagged breaths mixing with frantic, scraping nails, until, with a snarl, your knife finds purchase in his neck, stealing the life from his eyes in an instant. You stab him again and again, shaking, until the ticking urgency pulls you back into control. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and wiggle the knife lodged in his trachea, your hands slippery with blood.

"You got death," you spit in a whisper, thumbing his lids shut.

You lift up.

Now you have a single gun.

It is an old thing. Outdated and far from the military-grade weapons Ghost has. It takes a moment to figure out the parts—your fingers fumble for the small magazine, which is stocked with three bullets. You pull the slide to chamber a round with a click and keep it ready in your hand as you circle the building toward the back, praying that Nereida managed. When you find her, she is stood over the man's body, a deep cut oozing on her cheek.

"He saw me," she says, swallowing. "But I did it."

You nod. "We need to hide them before we go in."

All three bodies are hidden behind the hay stacks. You cover them with manure to mask the smell, not wanting a horde of Greys to materialize. You'd spotted a door at the back and hope it may be more discreet then blazing in through the front, given that you don't know who all is in there. Finger ready on the trigger, you hold your breath as you lead Nereida into the old building, instantly met with the rich smell of pennies. The space quickly unfolds into an old butcher house, rusted hooks hanging from the stone ceiling, the air cramped and cold. 

"Une femme? Maman ne voudrait pas de toi—"

The voice echoes in your ear as you round the corner, and then a fiery bullet rips into the owner's chest. Nereida flinches. Another guard comes barreling over, shouting, but you slide the chamber and shoot him in the head.

You don't linger by the bodies, itching to check the first steel door you see. You lower the gun only to pull at the handle, but it won't budge.

"Check him for keys," you motion to the dead guard.

Nereida crouches, hands rifling through his pockets until she yanks free a ring of keys. Her fingers shake as she tries them one by one, the lock stubborn—until, at last, it gives. With a sharp tug, the door groans open, revealing a windowless chamber. In the center, a lone captive hangs from chains.

It’s Price. Shackles bite into his wrists, his bare chest mapped with deep bruises against pale skin. Beaten, but unbroken—his gaze sharp as it lifts to meet yours. Nereida chokes on a sob, ripping the hood off her head and sinking to her knees before him, cupping his jaw.

A weighted baritone manages: "Duchess."

"There is nowhere I will not find you," she croaks. Teary kisses find the corner of his mouth. "I'm here, I'm here."

"How did you—"

"We got out. Where are the others?" you ask.

His jaw grits. "I haven't seen them since they knocked us out."

"They must be here somewhere. We need to move quick before someone notices the bodies."

After finding the small key to undo the manacles, you leave them to each other for the moment, continuing down the hall until the next door. An undeniable pull rises in your chest, something that has nothing to do with the adrenaline rushing through you—something you can’t quite name. But when you open the door, your heart falters with unwelcome disappointment at the sight of Kyle. He looks equally battered, but still aware enough to lift his head as you step in.

"Who are you?" 

You lift the veil.

"It's me," you answer, the words almost lost in the rush of emotions. Only when you fully take in the room do you notice Ari, curled in the corner. They’ve put them in here together. While there are no obvious injuries on the boy, the sight of the open Bible on his lap, and the empty dinner plate beside him, sends a cold shiver down your spine. You touch his cheek, feeling warmth, and reassure him he’s safe.

You release both of them. "Price and Nereida are through the door down the left. I need to find Ghost. I’ll be back."

Kyle rubs his wrists and manages to stand despite his black eye and shaky legs. "I’ll come with you."

"No. I’ll get him." The words come out sharper than you mean to, but you turn away before he can question them.

You are pulled further through the tight, cold hallway, movements turning more hurried as you look around. There are a few more half-opened doors, but they only lead to supply closets filled with whips and metal batons and empty chambers where old blood stains the floors. Something sharp tugs at your heart, and for the first time since initiating your escape, your fingertips succumb to a tremor of fear. 

Where is he?

The hall spits out into a room where dried animal carcasses hang from the walls.

One final door sits on the far end.

The rusted lock resists, swears hissing from your lips—until a sharp kick forces it open.

The smell thickens with fresh blood, and a cold pit sinks into your stomach at the sight of him—bound in chains, his body slumped haphazardly. Unlike the others, he doesn’t lift his head. You rush forward, a shaky breath catching in your throat as you take in the blood caked on his shoulder blades, deep welts splitting through the inked skin. His back, too, is covered in wounds. He looks worse—so much worse—that a bite of anger swells moisture in your eyes.

"Simon, you idiot. What did you do?" The words slip out on a sharp inhale as you lower yourself in front of him. "Simon," you whisper again, silent tears hot against your lips. You thread a hand through his hair, tilting his jaw up with careful fingers. His eyes are heavy, but relief finds you when they flutter open. He’s alive. The reddened whites flicker over your face, unfocused—until something strange sharpens the haze. A flicker of fear.

"It's me, Simon. We're getting out of here."

The brief fear shifts into shock when he recognizes your face, and only after you fumble with the key ring does understanding click into place, causing his jaw to flex. "Where... where is she?"

"I don't know, but we need to hurry. They have her." You undo the manacles, and his body rolls heavily into you, face falling onto your collarbone. You struggle to hold him up, gripping his shoulders without touching the wounds. A low groan bleeds through his teeth, and his eyes flutter shut again. No, no, no. "Please, you have to... you have to get up, Simon. I can't—she's going to fucking die!"

His upper chest rapidly expands with a breath, and he musters the strength to lift his weight off you and slap a hand against the wall. As he leverages his weight up, you help by grabbing beneath his other arm, until a final rush of adrenaline gets him on his feet. Urgency snaps tension into his limp shoulders, and he growls out another, more steady, breath.

"Price," he says.

"He's alive. Come on."

It takes some effort to help him walk at first, but eventually, he manages on his own. You guide him to the first room, where the others are pacing, murmuring in low voices.

"Simon, Jesus," Price mutters when he sees him.

Ghost brushes it off, his eyes narrowing. "They're going to kill her."

"At sunrise," you add, your voice tight. You pull out the pistol and show it to them. "I have one bullet left. I don't know how many more men are in this cult, but we've killed six so far."

"We have one shitty old gun." Kyle growls in frustration. "They took all our shit. How are we going to—"

"We find the weapons. They must have stored them somewhere," Price says.

"We can't just go searching through every building here. We don't have the time," you press. "And how are we supposed to get it back without everyone noticing we're gone?"

"I don't give a fuck about the guns. We find her first," Ghost grits, nostrils flaring. 

"We can't help her if we don't think things through. We can't just start a war with these people empty-handed, Simon," Price says.

"We find her first!"

"Simon," you say, reaching for his arm, but he pulls it away, clenching his bloody fist. The energy radiating from him would scare you if you didn't feel the same way.

Just then, there is the faint sound of a door opening and footsteps clanging through the hall. You tense up, two male voices shouting in echoes, one of them vaguely familiar.

"Quelqu'un les a tués ! On doit régler cette merde avant que Maman découvre quoi que ce soit."

"Les putains de prisonniers!"

Before you can react, Ghost snatches the pistol from your grip. The second they rush toward the open door, he launches at them—an elbow to one’s face, the butt of the gun breaking the nose of the other. Price uses Nereida's knife to stab the fallen guard, while Kyle helps Ghost subdue the second one. You only recognize him as the man who made you strip when they forcibly drag him toward the manacles, the sight of his blonde hair making your nails curl into your palms.

"You stupid fucking Brits!"

Ghost strikes the gun into his left eye, making him jerk within the constraints, howling as the socket turns into bloody pulp. 

Kyle grips the man's scalp from behind to hold his head up, while Ghost presses the gun into his cheek, where you notice a wound shaped like a bite mark.

"Tell us where she is," he roars. "Or I'll take the other eye."

Nereida cowers into the corner, holding onto Ari's arm. 

"I don't know!" the man spits blood, and Ghost digs the gun into his cheek, ripping it open further until the bitten flesh hangs as a torn flap, exposed all the way to his eye. The scream that follows feels inhuman. "I swear, I don't—I don't fucking know!"

Fresh blood drips to the floor. Price, much more calm, lowers at the man's side. "How many people live here?"

The man grits his teeth, struggling to answer, "T-thirty males, and six females. Plus the infants."

Twenty-two now, you count in your head.

"And the weapons we had. What about those?" Price questions further.

When only staggered, pained breaths fills the room, Ghost tosses the bloody gun and grabs the knife from Price, stabbing the man's kneecap without hesitation. Another scream ensues, and there is the small itch to cover your ears, but you steel yourself against the wall to keep watching.

"Answer the fucking question." Ghost twists the knife in his knee.

He cries out, more bloody spittle flying from his mouth. "All of the ammo is hidden. Only A-Alexandre knows!"

"Who is Alexandre?"

“Maman's son, he enforces her commands and oversees the males.”

"Where is he?" Price asks, voice hard.

“He… he resides in the work shed, while the rest of us sleep in the quarters within the barn.”

You step forward. "We saw another building outside with just one guard, that must be it."

There is a beat of silence as Price processes the information, giving Ghost a satisfied nod. With pain still contorting his face, the man's eye drifts past Ghost's shoulder toward you. His lips twitch into a faint, bloody smirk that makes your skin crawl. Ghost follows his gaze, snarls, and abruptly slashes the man's throat from ear to ear.

B

It is still dark when Eloise comes to awaken her, though Blue's eyes never once fell shut with sleep. She spent the short-lived night alternating between staring at the crescent moon outside the window, and fiddling with the knitting needles left on the table. There is a new dress in the woman's clutch, beautiful white fabric embroidered with flowers, and a pair of beautiful leather shoes in the other hand.

"See? I told you the dress would be nicer." She smiles and hands it over, as if to offer something to be thrilled for. "You must change quickly. There is a lovely breakfast of framboises and milk waiting for you. Put these on as well." She sets the shoes on the floor.

Blue thinks it strange, to bother feeding her just before her death. Blankly, she asks, "How many people will be there? To watch me die."

Eloise's smile quivers slightly, a slight crack in her composure. "Not too many, I assure you. Only a few of us women, and one or two worthy men. Most are still sleeping." After a pause, she adds even quieter, almost ashamed, "Be thankful you don’t suffer through childbirth instead. It is... a painful thing. Long, too. At least this pain will be honorable and swift."

Blue's fingers tighten around the dress. "Okay. Do you mind if I change alone, please?"

Eloise bows her head. "Of course."

She casts one last gentle glance her way before shuffling out of the room, locking the door behind her and leaving Blue with only the dress and shoes. Once the door is closed, Blue quickly slips the dress on, shuddering as the cold fabric caresses her limbs. It’s more beautiful than anything she can remember ever wearing, and that disgusts her. Swallowing the churn in her stomach, she grabs the needles and sits back on the bed.

The wounds on her feet are shallow, her fingernails only able to pierce the thick skin slightly. Using the needles, she digs into them deeper, trembling from the pain that throbs as fresh blood begins to seep from the soles. She cuts and cuts furiously, teeth gritted, praying it’s enough to soak into the shoes she slips on over the new wounds. She covers the blood stains on the sheet with the blanket, then stands, almost crying out from the agony of walking on her torn feet.

"Please dad," she whispers, closing her eyes briefly, before calling to Eloise that she is ready.

"But if they don't manage to kill her... her punishment for me will be worse." "Is everything alright, miss? You've been in there for a while." "What are you doing with the female? It’s forbidden!" "A woman? Maman wouldn’t want you—" "Someone killed them! We need to fix this shit before Maman finds out anything." "The fucking prisoners!"

[girl-lostconnection]

I just wanna say I love your fruit bat!reader and I just had to think about the boys further misunderstanding when reader maybe has a darker aesthetic, but reader doesn't get at all the connection cause like yeah black's just a neat colour, oh I guess vampires are cool. Wait me? *Mouthful of orange or something* me no fruits all the way? I don't know what you mean.

On one side it would be incredibly funny as misunderstanding but the devil is whispering in my ear so let’s walk the other way.

Imagine Reader freshly selected to join the team, nervous about meeting new people who they read EVERYTHING on, just to be ready.

And no one is hostile, right? They are friendly, almost too friendly, which grates on your nerves a little but you know, maybe you are thinking too much about it?

Works up until the first joke about the vampires, huge wolf operator (you find out later that his call sign is Ghost).

“Know why people don’t like workin’ with vampire bats?”, the question catches you off guard, your eyes snapping to the man’s eyes and you tilt your head to the side. You don’t know him yet, you aren’t sure how much of a reaction is allowed in this circumstance.

“‘Cause they are pain in the neck”, he announces, his brown eyes boring a hole into you, his tail wagging like he is waiting for you to start laughing.

You don’t. You stare right back at him, fingers flexing so the sharp points of your claws dig into your palm and you manage a smile that feels a little too forced.

Big wolf in front of you apparently sees it as well, because you can see the way his jaw flexes under the mask.

So for some reason he decides to give it another go. (Only months later you will find out that Simon was desperately scrambling for all the bat x vampire puns he remembered, thinking that the first one sounded a little too abrasive)

“What drink does bat order at the bar?”, he asks, his left ear giving in a small twitch that catches your eye. He sure is big for the wolf, most of their family you met in the past were tall and lean but this guy is built like a bloody tank.

“What?”, you ask, heart beating a little harder than you’d like it, anxiety coiling in your gut.

“A Bloody Mary”, wolf hums out, his ear giving in another twitch and corners of your mouth curl upwards. Cute.

Wolf’s tail starts to wag again, eyes satisfied as he walks off and you follow him to see your new space and unpack.

Isn’t so bad for the first meeting, right?

But in hindsight every interaction from then on felt…somehow forced. Recurring about blood and meat and fucking Halloween. Remarks about wearing too much black or the way Soap once chuckled at the silver chain with a beautiful red cross. Not a religious symbol but simply an accessory you liked.

It all was piling up so quickly you decided to just…stay on the outside. Maybe that would be better. Maybe they were trying to tell you that they didn’t want a bat and didn’t like bats.

That they didn’t like you.

It takes time to undo and the process is slow — you are a tough nut to crack, but they don’t try to crack you. Just…make amends, yeah?

Your relationship with Simon makes a cycle when he peels you oranges, eyes soft as you devour pieces of peaches.

“Do you know what’s a vegetarian vampire bat’s favourite fruit, luv?”, he hums out, placing a peeled orange in your bowl, something in his tone making you feel fuzzy.

“What is it?”, his tail is wagging and god the way he looks at you makes something tender in your chest ache, you mouth voluntarily falling open when he pushes a piece of peach in it, eyes crinkling.

“A neck-tarine”, Simon murmurs, his tail wagging harder when you laugh after a beat, juices from fruit dripping down your chin.

You shake your head at him in faux disbelief and he grins, popping a slice of orange in his mouth.

“Can do it all night”

You roll your eyes and instinctively smack his hand away when he tries to steal your bowl.

“That’s what I’m afraid of”

[reignpage]

Physics Tutor!Nanami

Conservation of momentum: if it's just us we can remain at a constant

Content: Friday night party, we're nearing the end y'all, mixed content of angst and fluff, a little sexual action but only if you squint Word Count: 3k Guide

“Nanami, seriously, you’re a grown man,” you mutter, a little annoyed. 

This isn’t how you expected to spend to your Friday night, wrangling a six-foot-tall man into his home but your ex-physics tutor came to a frat party and you had actually drank with him. Now you’re facing the consequences. 

Earlier in the night, the sight of Nanami in his cute blue sweater, sitting awkwardly as he eyed the couple making out next to him with disgust, was enough to warrant a heart attack. You had offered to drink with him in the garden, to take care of him so he could let loose. For an hour or two, you drank a couple shots, relishing the cool breeze which kept your head screwed tight as you sat beside him.

Gojo had passed by, wriggling his eyebrows at you and making lewd movements with his hands. That hadn’t gone by unnoticed by Nanami, who grew quiet. You thought maybe he was tired, maybe he wanted to go home, and when you suggested you part ways, he gripped your wrist. 

“No, don’t go with him,” he slurred. 

You didn’t have plans to go with your friend, you were just going to turn in for the night too, but as you looked at the man you’ve been madly in love with for months and saw his ruffled hair, slightly askew glasses, fogging up from the heat his face was producing, and the flush brightening his cheeks, you realised that there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

So, you stayed, sitting on the garden sofa with him. There were a couple other people loitering around, but none really paid any attention, everyone too immersed in their own conversations and lives to notice the two of you in the corner, thighs pressed together and shoulder brushing once in a while. 

His heat was permeating, tickling your side, and you couldn't help yourself, you leaned in close, the alcohol in your system made it so effortless to just let his gravitation pull bring you closer. If he noticed, he didn't say a thing.

You made small talk, discussing lectures and assignments. It was easy to talk to Nanami; other people were always so eager to prove themselves academically superior, never really listening to what you had to say, but rather looking for weak points to attack. It was never a conversation and instead a battlefield. And when you complained to your friends, they never seemed to understand.

With him, however, he listened more than he talked. Always. He hummed and nodded, mulling and considering your words carefully like what you had to say was just as important as anything an esteemed lecturer was teaching. With him, you felt like equals. Which was insane because he was Nanami Kento, and you were just the girl he had to tutor.

"I hate that bald Professor!" You groaned. "He's so boring."

He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "He is rather monotonous, I must admit. You aren't the first student to complain and likely will not be the last."

"Yeah, I bet. But I honestly just don't think he should be a lecturer. I'd probably be a better one than him."

Meeting your gaze, you see the crinkle in the corners of his eyes, the way they soften as they roam your face, stopping by your smile. His fingers twitch on the empty shot glass, skimming the rim just a little before he affirms, "I have no doubts you would be; I can't imagine anyone finding you boring."

Passing each other shot glasses, you'd sip and chat. Nothing about the elephant in the room, not about your confessions, about the odd tension permeating the relationship, certainly not about why he showed up to the party, or why he had become flirtatious. Perhaps it was cowardice that held you both back. Maybe it was the enjoyment of simply existing beside each other, not as classmates, not as tutor and student, and not as two people whose feelings have gotten all tied up.

But as just Nanami and y/n.

Eventually, you both ceased your chattering. Settling to watch the other partygoers or the stars twinkling. Once in a while, he'd point to a star and tell you about its story, and you'd sit entranced by his voice --it's so steady, so smooth and clear, you could listen to it for hours. And when he talked to you of astronomy and gravity and quantum mechanics and the probability of time travel, you thought he should be a lecturer. You'd attend every class, every seminar, and never complain.

"How do you know so much about stars? We don't get taught about constellations."

He lifted one shoulder. "I work at the Eden Observatory part-time."

It was so quintessentially Nanami you didn't question it even though you were bursting to ask. He would have given you all the answers you sought, you're sure by the way he gazes at you expectantly.

Silence passed by, comfortable and soothing. You had no idea what time it was, didn’t care enough to reach forward to get your phone from the table, and neither did Nanami. You thought maybe he was nodding off but when you peered up at him, he was looking down. 

At your hand. 

“C-can I hold it?” 

His voice was gravelly, a hesitation that you’d never heard from him. The way he was gazing down at your hand, limp on your lap, like it was precious, like it was made of glass, and he could be beheaded for daring to even look, made your stomach feel weird. It was the very feeling you had been trying to bury for weeks. 

It was dangerous. You’d been working so hard to walk away and he was erasing the line, stretching out his arms to invite you back over. Unwise was what letting him do as he pleased would be, and yet, you found yourself nodding. And when his own hands, warm and large, wrapped around one of yours, you couldn’t fight back the shiver that ran through you. 

He was holding you so softly, in a way no one ever has, and you could only gulp. It was as if you had entered enemy territory, foreign and riddled with land mines that could go off and blow everything up if you so as much as made the wrong step. When his thumb grazed your knuckles, your heart skipped a beat. 

“Nanami,” you began but his hand squeezed yours and you shut up.

Your ex-physics tutor was still staring at your hand, marvelling at the soft skin, his glasses slide down his nose just a little bit, and you had to push it up with your free hand. That caught his attention, as if remembering there was a person attached to the hand he was holding so carefully. 

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, clearly trying to get his bearings. “Y/n, please rethink your decision to drop out.”

“I can’t.” You pulled your hand out of his like it burned. And then you looked away, crossing your arms so you wouldn’t be tempted. “This is for the best.”

“No. You were doing so well, even Professor Yaga had said so.”

With a sigh, you turned back to him, finding his blush endearing. The longer you stared the more it threatened your defences. You couldn’t let him talk you out of it, your sister you could fight off, even Gojo, but not Nanami. Not when every word that came out of his mouth sounded like the Gospel, like undeniable, irrefutable facts. 

Standing, you brushed invisible dust off your skirt and looked anywhere but at him. Unsteady, you asserted, “Nanami, I’ll take you back.”

He shook his head, strands of his hair falling over his forehead, obscuring his vision. You brushed them off, so lush under your palm, and he looked up at you like you were an angel -- mouth slightly parted, he blew air in the space between you, eyes slightly glossy as he watched you. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He whispered, and then added, his brows furrowing, softening his gaze even further, “It hurts to look at you.”

You staggered back, arms falling to your sides as you gaped at him. You didn’t understand what that meant, what he was trying to say, nor why your heart was clenching so painfully, like someone had reached in and squeezed. 

“Maybe you can get your roommate to take you,” you whispered breathlessly.

Nanami shook his head once more, standing up too. His trousers were all crinkled and when he got to his feet he swayed slightly. You rushed over to his side, letting him lean against you. He was heavy, even as he carried most of his weight, and he smelled amazing. Clean, fresh and sweet. It reminded you of a bakery, just after closing, with the scent of butter and vanilla lingering in the air. 

“No, Haibara’s with his sister.” 

You both began walking, ignoring the staring and whistling people were throwing at you as they noticed both of your existence then. Some girls pointed to Nanami, no doubt recognising him from the List. They whispered amongst themselves, blushing and roving his body. You urged him to walk faster.

“Hey, hey, where are you two lovebirds going?” An irritating voice shouted. “You know my rules about fucking in the house. You have to pay a fee.”

Rolling your eyes, you informed him, “I’m taking Nanami home, he’s a little out of it.”

Gojo scanned your ex-tutor’s face, really looking at him and realising you were right. Suddenly, his grin dropped, and he was nodding to the front door. “Alright, I’ll drive. You seem out of it too.”

And just before you all left through the front door, he yelled to his deputy, “Don’t let the place burn down, it's a pain to deal with.”

The car ride to Nanami’s place passed in another relative silence, both of you in the back as you strapped him in, and your friend hummed to the songs on the radio, drumming his fingers. As obnoxious as Gojo could be, there were these rare moments of maturity and wisdom that people didn't see. But you did. You and Suguru, and these were the very moments that reminded you, no matter what, you would always find a home with him.

Parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt, reaching over the slightly light-headed man and unbuckled him too. His hand brushed your hair, gently, always so gentle. You refused to look at him.

“Let me know if you need a ride back,” Gojo threw at you, going on his phone as you fought to get your ex-tutor out, ignoring the glares you were directing towards him. His helpfulness had reached its max, clearly.

“No, she’s staying with me,” Nanami croaked. He slammed the door a little harder than necessary and you winced. Pointing a finger at Gojo through the rolled down window, he slurred, “You can go.”

Not taking any offence whatsoever, the frat president grinned and winked at you. “Alright, have fun, babes. Wrap it before you tap it. Or not. I'm pretty ready to be a fun uncle.”

And then he was driving off, leaving you crumpling under the weight of your responsibility with your jaw on the floor. That prick. Oh, you were so going to make him pay. 

By some miracle, you made it up to his floor with Nanami's jumbled directions, and now here you are, muttering irritated complaints about how clumsy this grown man is despite his age and wisdom.

“Seriously? Nanami, I told you to get it before we reach your door!”

You’re watching Nanami dig through his pockets for his keys, pink tinting the tip of his ears, either with embarrassment or with the warmth of the alcohol. He’s fumbling, muttering curses under his breath as he struggles, clumsy fingers catching on each other. You groan and swat his hands away, trying to get a feel for his keys through his trousers instead. 

This is not your first time dealing with drunk men. But it is your first time with a man as adorable as he is, unfortunately.

“Are you mad at me?”

Glancing up, you look at him, exasperated and unprepared for the pout on his face. His glasses are slanted again, and you have no free hands to push them back up — one hand is already holding him up and the other is buried in his pocket searching for his keys and trying to get past the lip balm in there. 

"No, Nanami. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed." You hate that you sound just like your mother, but someone has to be the responsible one. You just never thought it'd ever be you.

He winces. “Please, be careful.”

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Nanami flushes harder, the tips of his ears matching and he avoids eye contact, stilling your wrist with a firm hand. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…”

You follow his gaze, both of you looking down and seeing something that shouldn’t be happening. You blink, cartoon character style. This is so very bad. 

Taking a deep breath, you pull the keys out and mutter weakly, “Found it.”

Once you’re inside, you pull Nanami with you, eyeing his place and appreciating the cleanliness; your place is not nearly as tidy as his. But you do see a messy arrangement of papers on his table. You can imagine a busy Nanami, sitting on the sofa, going over the papers and reading out loud under his breath. You smile.

“Alright, big guy. Where’s your room?”

“Buy me dinner first,” he chuckles to himself. He slumps down on the sofa, the leather creaking under his weight and he shrugs off his sweater, the shirt underneath riding up to reveal his abs. You look away. 

Oh, so the man has jokes. 

You’re fighting the urge to walk away and with a shaky breath, full of frustration, you very calmly say, “Nanami, it’s late, sweetheart. You’re going to need to go to bed, okay?”

Then he’s smiling up at you, a gummy smile that’s so dopey you can’t help but smile with him. 

“I like that.” He tilts his head at you. “I like when you call me sweetheart. Do it again.”

Counting to ten, you try again, “Okay, Nanami. I’ll call you sweetheart when you get in bed. It’s a reward.”

He mouths it back, tasting the word and that seems to resonate with him. Raising a hand out, he’s urging you to help him up and so you step forward, ready to bear his weight again, but then you’re being yanked down, and the world turns upside down. 

Nanami’s pinned you to the sofa, leaning over you with a fierce look in his eyes. Gone is the nerdy lightweight, and in his place is the man you’ve caught glimpses of. The one that furrows his brown in a stern scolding, that scribbles frantically on his papers and argues with the professors. Suddenly, he no longer looks his age and instead, appears not as a clumsy college student, but rather as a man. 

The kind of man that could command the attention of an entire room. 

“You did this to me,” he gestures to his hard on, the very same one you’ve been avoiding staring too long at. “Take responsibility, won’t you, darling?”

You choke on your own saliva. What the fuck?

Shaking your head, you remind yourself, he’s drunk, you’re no longer his student, and you’ve been a pain in his ass the entire time. Don’t take anything he says whilst under the influence to heart. It’s just chemicals in his brain. Just a biological urge. It means nothing. 

“Nanami, you’re drunk, let’s drink some water, okay?”

“Four shots is barely anything. I might be a lightweight, but I’m tipsy at most,” he scoffs. Leaning down, he grazes your cheek with his nose, inhaling deep with a groan. “You always smell so good.”

He might claim to be sober enough, but you’re not convinced. Sure, you can’t deny that you want him, but you don’t want him like this; you don’t want to be wanted because the alcohol has clouded his judgment. You want to be seen, as you are and not just another warm body to pass the time. 

Slowly, gently and with as much patience as you can muster, you nudge his head from your neck, and say, “You need to let me go, Nanami.”

“No.”

“Nanami.”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” That gravelly voice is back, the one weighed down by some inner turmoil you aren’t privy to, and you can only bite your lip when he presses a tender kiss at the crook of your neck. “I want you any way you’ll let me.”

You’re tearing up. It might be because he’s whispering it right by your ear or because his words sound so sincere, but you feel your bottom lip quiver. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go; you wanted to let loose and forget everything by partying life away, but now you’re practically cuddling with your physics tutor. Ex physics tutor.

Despite being a little out of it and shaking with some unknown emotion, he isn’t suffocating you with his weight. He’s holding himself up in a plank, inhaling your scent and fighting off your weak pushes. 

“Please, Nanami. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

“You promise?” He lifts his head, lashes fluttering as he searches your features for any hint of deception. “You’re not going to avoid me?”

You shake your head, and he sighs, smiling. 

“Good, because I really don’t like it when you do that.”

And then he’s pushing off. A cool breeze brushes past you and you’re shivering from the sudden loss of warmth. Nanami disappears into a room you’re assuming is his and you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When you enter his room, he’s only in his boxers, climbing into bed. 

He lifts the cover up and pats the empty space beside him, grumbling, “Come on, I’m cold.”

You sigh, ripping the cover from his hands and tuck him in. “No, Nanami. I’m not sleeping with you. I’m going now so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Almost breaking out into laughter at the scowl that graces his face, you have to distract yourself by pulling his glasses off and folding them onto his bedside table. Like this, he looks so youthful. No longer frowning over data variables or anomalistic lab results, he’s just lying peacefully. 

"You aren't better off taking a different course. You work well under my tutelage. Grant me the opportunity to change your mind about everything. Let me show you I didn't mean the things I said," he pleads, eyes flutterings shut.

Hesitant, you say, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Nanami."

"Just one chance, y/n. Don't cross this off simply because we reached a bump. You trusted my guidance before, trust me now."

You don't know what exactly he's referring to and you're too scared to ask. All you can do is watch sincerity, a raw kind of pleading, swirl in his vibrant eyes. He has you in his palms and he doesn't even realise.

"Okay."

He’s fast asleep when you leave. 

You don’t bother Gojo for a ride back to your home, you texted him your sister's picking you up. She might be asleep by now but you'll wake her up anyways, so you can tell her about everything that's happened and ask for her two cents, because you think Nanami practically confessed his feelings for you. But that doesn’t make sense with all that’s unfolded, right?

How could he possibly like a girl like you?

You’re loud, boisterous, air-headed, and not the kind of girl one takes home to their mother. He deserves a girl that’s as smart, as put together, and mature and wise as he is. Deserves one that hasn’t been tainted by bad decision and nightmares.

Sighing again — you’ve been doing a lot of that lately — you walk home, in the dark, fighting the urge to look back. And as the night’s chill prick your skin, you wonder how Nanami will feel in the morning. 

Embarrassment, shame, humiliation?

Whatever it’ll be, you just hope it isn’t regret. 

You have enough of that for the both of you.

[borathae]

The Alpha Omega Series | JJK x f.Reader

“Jungkook is the son of the pack Alpha and therefore heir of the titel. You are an omega and utterly out of his league. This is the story of how, against all odds, you and he became true mates.”

Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x f. omega!Reader

Genre: Werewolves!AU, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers!AU, Angst, Romance, Smut

Warnings: This story contains ABO dynamics, cursing and angsty themes, as well as topics of abusive parents, illegal omega trading and very sexually explicit scenes. Also, it includes Jungkook as a protective, strong Alpha which is the most lethal warning tbfh. If you are sensitive to such topics, I advise you read with care.

Chapter Count: 3/3 ✓

a/n: I decided to make a chapter index for Alpha!Kook because his universe is growing and we need a place for all of his stories. I don't want to talk about how hot he is in the header because I won't say anything decent tbfh

The Beginning - Alpha

“Jungkook is tasked by his father – current Alpha of the pack – to deliver you – an innocent omega – to your future husband, who purchased you through illegal omega trading offers and who is known to publicly torture omegas for sport. Problem is, you and he are former childhood best friends with too much tension to work through and Jungkook can’t stand his father’s disgusting business methods.” Genre: Werewolves!AU, childhood best friends to enemies to lovers!AU, Angsty Romance, Smut

The Wedding - Bonded

“You didn’t think that having Jungkook save you from an abusive arranged marriage by marking you would mean that you would have to marry him instead. Yet here you are. Bonded to him for life, with his father threatening to ban you if you fuck it up and with your marriage night one step away. It wouldn’t be that scary if you weren’t aware that his family doesn’t bond with omegas.” Genre: Werewolves!AU, forced marriage!AU, childhood best friends to lovers!AU, marriage night!AU, Angst, Romance, Smut

The Marriage - Scents

“Life as Jungkook’s mate is everything you ever dreamed of. He is there for you, he keeps you safe, fulfills all your wishes and fucks you to complete satisfaction. Life as your mate is, well, it’s how Jungkook always imagined having a home feels like. Because his life as his father’s son isn’t easy, but with you by his side, it finally doesn’t hurt anymore. When one night, Jungkook comes home feeling like shit because of his father, you decide to show him that he can always count on you to be his comfort and his distraction.” Genre: Werewolf!AU, True Mates!AU, Married Life!AU, Angst, Hurt & Comfort, Fluff, Smut

[woso-dreamzzz]

The King II

Alexia Putellas x Sister!Reader

Patri Guijarro x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Your sister thinks you're hiding something from her

There's something different with you.

Alexia knows that for a fact.

There's something that's changed. There's something that's happened.

Alexia can tell just from the way you've relaxed, the way your posture is more open, the way you're smiling more rather than your usual stern face and eye rolls.

Her own eyes narrow as she watches you lean against a wall with Patri, talking in hushed whispers as Mapi passes by, slapping you on the shoulder with a massive grin on her face.

Gears tick in your sister's head as she watches you throughout training - your smiling, carefree face lit up in delight.

It comes to her in the middle of the night.

There's a romantic comedy playing on the bedroom tv and Olga curled up by her side but Alexia still bolts upright, shattering the soft atmosphere that had been building.

"She slept with a groupie!"

Olga rubs the sleep from her eyes, blinking a few times as she's rudely awoken by Alexia's swift movements. "What?"

"My sister! Oh my god...Olga, she's sleeping with a fan! That's why she's all light and airy at training! Some football groupie is taking advantage of my sister!"

"Ale...what if she's just gotten a girlfriend?"

Alexia gives her a look of disbelief. "Don't be so disgusting. Y/n hasn't got a girlfriend! She can barely talk to girls! No, some groupie is taking advantage of my sister's inexperience!"

"I don't think...You know what? Sure, whatever you say, Ale. Can we finish our film now?"

When Alexia comes into training the next day, you can tell something's different about her.

She's been kind of shifty and awkward...

More awkward than normal that is.

She hovers by you incessantly, looking over your shoulder when you're texting and walking you to your car everyday like she's worried someone's going to jump out of the bushes or something.

You're pretty sure you even saw her car outside of your apartment when you left in the morning but it was already gone by the time Patri came downstairs so you could carpool together to training.

Everything about your sister is getting stranger and stranger through the coming days and you don't know what you could have possibly done to get her to hover like this.

You're not sick. You're not injured and those are the only two reasons she's hovered in the past like that time when you were ten and caught the flu and Alexia camped out on your bedroom floor even though Mama told her she'd get sick too or that time exactly a year later when you'd fallen from the jungle gym at school and broke your arm.

She'd cried so hard in the hospital that the nurses thought she was the one that was injured.

She's hovering a bit like that now though and you subtly pat at your limbs in case she's seeing something you haven't noticed yet.

But there's nothing wrong with you. Nothing that would alarm Alexia anyway and you really don't know why she's staring at you so intently.

You're not even sure she knows how she's look at you right now - wide eyed and unblinking.

Your sister and subtle just don't seem to work in the same sentence.

Least of all in the middle of the night when you open your apartment door to Alexia standing there.

"Ale?" You say, rubbing your eyes to rid the sleep from them," What's...? What's going?"

Alexia takes you in.

You must have been sleeping, hair all messy and the soft Stitch pyjamas Alba got you for Christmas on your body.

"I can't want to come and visit my sister?" Alexia asks.

"At one in the morning? Ale, we have training tomorrow."

"I know," Alexia says, practically barging her way through your door and beelining straight for your bedroom.

Her face falls the moment she gets in though.

"What are you looking for?" You ask, still yawning as you come up behind her," If this is about that jean skirt thing, I didn't take it. Alba's got it. Not me. You know I don't wear that kind of stuff."

Alexia pulls a face as she looks around the room, clearly not finding what she wanted.

"Like, I can call Alba and tell her to give it back," You continue," But I don't know why you need to in the middle of the night so urgently. I mean...Ale? Alexia?"

But your sister is already gone and you wake up the next day ninety percent sure that the whole interaction was some dream hallucination brought on by something dodgy that you'd cooked.

Which is why, here and now, you lay splayed out on your sofa with Patri ordering pizza.

Technically, she lives one floor above you but you've been cohabitating more and more these recent weeks.

She's at home in your apartment and you're at home in hers.

"I was thinking," She says, fingers slowly moving up and down your bare arm," That after this season, we can go away for a bit. Just the two of us."

"The two of us?"

Patri tilts your head up until you can just about feel her lips on yours. "Us. Some sand. Some sea. A lot of sex."

"I like that plan."

You connect your lips with hers and before you know it, you're pressed up in bed together and lazily making out again.

"Another round?" Patri asks, eyes hooded and salacious smirk upon her face.

"I would," You say," But I think the pizza man who has been ringing the doorbell won't be happy to wait any longer."

You pull on your clothes, still buttoning up your shirt when you swing open the door.

You expect the pizza man.

Your mouth hangs open at the sight of your sister there.

Her eyes narrow as she takes in your appearance - your messy sex hair and the hickeys running up your neck.

"I knew it!" She says, barging in like she did last week," You're sleeping with a groupie!"

"I-What?!"

But Alexia isn't listening anymore.

Her eyes zero in on the pile of Patri's clothes.

They start from your sofa but track the path you both took into your bedroom.

Alexia turns to you slowly, eyes going between you and the clothes. "She's still here?"

"Alexia, wait. It's not-"

Alexia's slams your bedroom door open as you scramble after her.

Your girlfriend sits up in your bed, covers pressed against her chest as she awkwardly smiles at your sister.

"Hey, Ale..."

You clear your throat and Alexia's eyes immediately rest on you - eyes wide in shock.

"So..." You say," At least Patri's not a groupie?"

[illubean]

NSFW warning; reader discretion advised

imagine riding Nerdjo while on the phone with his best friend; the one and only lady killer Suguru

The three of you were pretty close friends, and you had slept with Suguru before, but poor virgin Satoru only recently just worked up the courage to confide in you about his problems

Despite being attractive enough to get any girl he wanted, Satoru often turned down the attention of any other women. He feared that his hobbies would scare them off sooner or later, and even if they didn't, he wanted to lose it to someone he trusted.

He knew that someone had to be you, but since you and Suguru were pretty consistant FWB, it felt slightly wrong to him.

you should only be sleeping with one person at a time, right?

So when he finally told you about his qualms, he didn't expect you to strip him, push his back onto his digimon bedsheets, and give him the ride of his life

No woman in her right mind would fuck a man who still had digimon bedsheets in his late 20s, but Satoru was just so cute asking you for help that you couldn't say no to him

Satoru whimpered and whined beneath you, your weepy pussy clenching around his length feeling better than his hand ever could. The poor guy couldn't keep his hands to himself, pawing and groping any and every inch of skin he could reach

You cooed at him while he babbled nonsense, before your phone went off and you picked it up from the bedside table. Suguru was facetiming you. Without as much as a second thought, you answered.

"Hey pretty. What are you up to?"

"Mm, not much. Just hanging out with 'Toru" you responded as if you weren't currently bouncing on the aforementioned man's cock. Satoru slapped a hand over his mouth, attempting to muffle his own pleasured cries while his skin flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his neck.

"I didn't know you guys were hanging out today. I just got off work, should I come over?"

"Sure! Y'know, he actually asked me-"

"Mnnooooo, don't tell himm!"

Your eyes widened at Satoru's whiny protest, looking at him past your phone to see a fucked out, embarrassed expression on his face. You let out a breathy laugh and smirked down at him, slowing your hips in order to grind your pelvis against his.

"Aww baby, why not? I'm sure he could help you too," you teased, turning your attention back to the blackette on your screen. "Why don't I just show him then?"

Before Satoru could protest, you flipped your camera around to show Suguru the position you currently had his best friend in. Satoru used the back of one hand to cover his face and the other to try and shield the camera from where the two of you connected. His entire body felt hot, head turning to the side while he felt tears prick at the corners of his blue eyes.

You swatted the hand he was using to block Suguru's view away before resting your own against his abdomen, caressing soothing circles against his skin.

"Isn't he just the cutest? Hurry Sugu, come join us!"

[gloomwitchwrites]

How about some silliness.....reader/you is superrr drunk from a night out with friends or high from anesthesia and the guys are trying to take care of them and we are all like "get your hands off me or my husband will kick you ass!" Or "omg you're so hot are you single??"...and they are just dying laughing like "I am your husband!"

I just watched one too many tik toks of this 😂🤣

Oh, I love this. I don't think I've actually seen these videos before (at least on TT) but I do know what you're talking about. Maybe I've seen it more in other media? Like movies and television? Anyway, I understand what you're asking for, so I hope you enjoy what I've cooked up!

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

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, established relationship, fluff, mild alcohol use, shenanigans due to drunkenness & anesthesia

Word Count: 800

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

John Price

John stands beside you on the passenger side of the car. The car door is open, and all you need to do is slide inside. Instead, you’re arguing with him, insisting that you can get in yourself, and that you don’t need help.

“You just had surgery,” chides John.

“Minor surgery,” you correct.

“It’s still surgery.” John sighs, and then places his hand on your back. “Let me help you.”

“Hands off, sir. You’re not my husband.”

John does not move his hand. “I don’t remember us getting a divorce, love.”

You wave him off and John snorts. “He’ll kick your ass,” you insist. “Punch you right in the nose.”

John’s stern demeanor cracks, dissolving into a wide smile and a soft chuckle. He shakes his head in disbelief. “I’m your bloody husband. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”

“I’m serious,” you say. Turning, you attempt to jab him in the chest with your finger. Everything tilts, and you only hit air.

John sighs, exasperated. “Get in the car, love.”

“No,” you groan, pushing at his chest. You surrender to him, allowing John to help you into the front passenger seat.

“I hope you remember this after the drugs wear off.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You’ve been out with your friends all evening, and you have no idea what times it is. It’s dark, and you didn’t leave until the bar closed, forcing you to make an exit. Someone called for a car, and you all piled in, dropping each of off one by one.

As you enter the dark bedroom, you kick off your shoes, slightly stumbling to turn on the bedside light. You turn it on, and immediately wince. Vision swimming, you rub at your eyes, and then notice the massive lump in your bed.

“Turn off the bloody light, will you?” mumbles Johnny.

A devious plan forms in your head.

You climb onto the bed, crawling toward him. Noticing, Johnny turns toward you, eyes dreary with sleep.

“What?” he asks just before you flop your entire body onto him.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” he deadpans.

You wiggle over him, pressing the tip of your nose against his. “You seeing anyone, handsome?”

Johnny arches an eyebrow. “Did you hit your head or something? I am your husband.”

“Lucky me.”

Johnny blows raspberries. With one good shove, he flips you onto your back on your side of the bed.

“Go to bed. You’re drunk.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Your liquor-addled brain tells you to do it.

Across the bar is danger, the kind you want to play with—to sink your teeth into. Why resist temptation when it’s clear that the masked man across the bar can’t seem to take his eyes off you? Every time you glance in his direction, his gaze is focused and intense, daring you to approach him.

Which is exactly what you do.

He follows your every step, even if there is a slight sway in the way you walk. As you approach, he leans back in his chair, legs widening as if in welcome. It’s easy to reach out, to place your hand on his shoulder, to straddle his thighs, and stare into his eyes.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” you slur. “Plan on going home with anyone?”

“I am,” the masked man replies.

“And who might that be?”

“My wife.”

You turn in his lap, looking around at all the other patrons in the bar. “Don’t see her.”

“Course you don’t,” he chuckles. “Because she’s sitting in my lap.”

You blink. “Is she?”

“You’re my wife,” he whispers.

“I am…aren’t I?”

He shakes his head. “I’m cutting you off.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

The alcohol is an enabler. You shouldn’t have had as many drinks as you did, but this is a party, and you’re not the one driving.

Why not have a bit of fun?

“Hi.”

Kyle arches an eyebrow. “Hi,” he replies, drawing out the greeting in slight confusion.

You cozy up next to him, shoulder brushing against shoulder.

“So,” you begin, head tilting toward him like you’re about to whisper all your secrets. “I’m going to be a bit bold…”

“Go on.”

“But I think you’re cute. Wanted to know if you’re seeing anyone.”

Kyle’s single raised eyebrow becomes two. There’s a long pause, so long that you notice the absence of conversation.

Kyle’s confusion cracks, becoming a wide smile, followed by his adorable, familiar laughter. “You’re taking the piss, love.”

“I’m not joking.”

He laughs harder, clutching his chest like he can’t breathe.

“I’m your husband,” he manages to say between wheezing breaths.

“I know,” you reply. “Just checking to make sure you’re still loyal.”

He waves his hand in the air before him. “You’ve had enough. Give me that.” He plucks your beverage right out of your hands.

“Excuse me,” you protest, but Kyle is already downing it.

taglist:

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[hanasnx]

Hop hop 🐇 hiya bugs :). Can I use my super special Donnie privilege and request 6'11 Jason Todd and biting, Like, just absolutely sinking his fucking teeth in, borderline primal, while that fat cock bullies your pussy. The bites could be anywhere, everywhere, but especially the neck cause he wants to suck on your pulse while his dick fucks an orgasm outta ya and makes ya go limp. Im 4"11 and the size difference makes me dizzy. Work your indy magic if ya wanna but you don't even have to take this if ya dont cause it's um... it's January. My bad for being indecisive tbh. Bye imyyy 👋 🐇 hop hop

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! | IMPORTANT: do not use my 6’11!jason au without my explicit permission.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you spit, determined to get 6’11!JASON TODD to hear you even while he fills the room with the sounds of skin smacking skin. His monstrous hips plow into you from the back so hard it stings against yours ass, rippling the globes while he’s pinning you to the mattress with his strength and weight. Futilely, you’re bearing that weight, holding yourself up with your claws in the sheets, arching your back to keep your head raised—anything to try and be taken seriously right now. Yet, you flinch with every violent sheath, getting speared on a length so insane it’s unfathomable for it to bottom out without an ache.

You squeeze your eyes shut, choked noises releasing from your throat in pained chuffs, unable to decipher whether you hate it or love it. Your cunt certainly does, sopping around his dick, getting cream all up in his pubes. He has yet to say anything to retort, his teeth having sunk into your neck and remained there. If you think anything is painful about the way he’s fucking you, it’s nothing compared to the concentrated pressure in the most vulnerable part of you. Your exposed jugular latched onto like he’s some animal, fangs sinking into your skin to pin you while he uses you. His massive body spans you nearly twice over, blanketing you in an escapable landscape, having plowed you into a prone bone position from doggy. When you try to turn your head, an attempt to get him to release you, a rough growl of frustration releases from his nose.

For one second, his jaw unlocks, and relief floods in, a breeze hitting that wet and fresh dental print. You can’t see them, but you can feel how deep the indents of his canines are. As quickly as it came, he bites back down for a better grip, and this time you cry out in a moan. The new angle hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars, while the sensation of the pain heightens the pleasure. You’re not talking shit anymore, instead your cunt is drooling around him while he’s got your life in his mouth.

[gumii-bearr]

idea maybes

academic rival/nerd satoru… him acting all high and mighty and then is an utter virgin (but you are tew so you too together are hopeless)

YESSSSSSSS HAHAHAHA

thinking about... ❝ hopeless nerds ❞

featuring... satoru gojo

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, nerd!virgin!gojo, nerd!virgin!reader, academic rivals, two dorks, gojo is such an asshole, smut, creampie, praise kink, masturbation, inexperienced dorks tryna bang, dare i say crybaby dom gojo, sexual tension, somnophilia, sexually frustrated nerds

author's note: im sorry i haven't posted in a while!!!! my town has flooded and we've lost power a few times and i can't leave my house :,)

── nerd!gojo immediately pissing you off the moment he opens his fucking mouth.

── nerd!gojo who shares a few classes with you and he's always talking over you, has to prove your points wrong even when you back them up with facts and research.

── he does it to make you mad, you know he does. he does it because it's so easy to make you mad and it's fucking cute how your nose scrunches and how you fold your arms over your chest and give him the cold shoulder the rest of the lesson.

── "fuck you, satoru."

── "oh you wish, sweetheart."

── nerd!gojo who purposely sits next to you in class because he knows his presence drives you up the wall.

── he points out holes in your research, steals your pens off your desk, leans on your shoulder and stays there no matter how much to elbow his side, there is no peace with him.

── nerd!gojo who is tied for best grade in the class with none other than you. and fuck it makes him mad, though he would never admit it.

── nerd!gojo who teases you when you're even a single point behind him when you get your grades back.

── nerd!gojo who never hears the end of it when you do better than him on a test or essay.

── nerd!gojo who may find you annoying, but he also finds your competitiveness and smart-ass demeanour fucking hot.

── you're the only person to ever one-up him. give him a run for his place as the smartest guy in class.

── you're single-handedly his motivation to do better in class. not because he wants to, but because he needs to win.

── you're so smug when you win and you're so hot-headed when you don't. he starts to find it fucking confusing when you bicker with him or insult his intelligence and he finds it... hot.

── you could be calling him every colourful name under the sun and he would just stand there and take it with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face and his eyes peeking over his sunglasses and staring at your pretty lips.

── nerd!gojo who is also virgin!gojo, which you would never have guessed with how he holds himself– always so outwardly confident and always has soooo much to say.

── virgin!gojo who has maybe kissed two girls his whole life, forced to hole himself up in his dorm and fist his cock when he's so beyond frustrated.

── virgin!gojo who finds himself starting to think about... you.

── virgin!gojo who thinks about burying his virgin cock inside you, fucking you stupid on his cock since you always seem to have something to say.

── you find it fucking weird when he doesn't shoot back with a sarcastic comment one morning, his eyes unable to meet yours.

── now you know something's wrong because it always makes gojo's day when he sees your face flush and watches you stomp around all angry and annoyed at him.

── virgin!gojo who doesn't know what to do when he's cornered by you in the library, and for the first time, he sees you be genuine toward him.

── "aw, you care about me."

── "you know what? forget it."

── virgin!gojo who knows he needs to just shut his big mouth for once and he finally does– by slamming you against the closest bookshelf and messily kissing you like his life depends on it.

── virgin!gojo who realises he's super out of practice when it comes to kissing... or maybe you're both bad.

── virgin!gojo who panics when he gets you back to his dorm room, clumsy fingers pulling your clothes off while you nervously pull at his.

── it's slow and it's messy and there's very obviously an elephant in the room that neither of you want to address.

── but you finally bite the bullet.

── "i'm a virgin."

── "you telling me no one's ever wanted to fuck that bitchy attitude out of you?"

── "don't piss me off."

── virgin!gojo who admits he too is a virgin.

── the two of you acknowledge that there's been a sexual tension brewing between you two for a while... so maybe you should just fuck it out.

── virgin!gojo who sinks to his knees, throwing your thighs over his shoulders and pressing his curious tongue against your soaked slit.

── no one's ever touched you like that– you're getting riled up just seeing him between your thighs.

── virgin!gojo who is finally fucking quiet and lets you show him when you guide him on how to finger you. you show him where to touch you, how to touch you, where to lick and suck on you.

── and virgin!gojo who listens and he's a fast learner because he wants to please you.

── and when virgin!gojo finally sinks his huge fucking cock inside you. you nearly fucking scream.

── and virgin!gojo who has no idea he's big. no one's ever seen his cock, or felt it. he's had nothing to compare it to–

── "you're so fucking big."

── "oh, yeah? you like it, baby?"

── virgin!gojo who didn't think he'd like dirty talk as much as he does. but he likes how you whine and moan just from his voice, how he can rile you up and have you soaking his dick and the sheets just from telling you what a good girl you are.

── but also virgin!gojo who is a fucking whiner when he's getting close to his high. your virgin cunt is so warm and tight, he's never experienced such fucking bliss.

── he's whining about how good you feel, how he's never felt something so fucking mind-blowing. he just keeps fucking talking cus if he doesn't he's gonna cum.

── and virgin!gojo who fucking cries when he cums because he's on cloud fucking nine. his hips slap erratically, his thrusts are shallow and fast as he approaches his high and his fists curl into the sheets by your head to keep him grounded.

── and you just wrap your arms around his neck, hold him close as he breathes in your intoxicating scent, arms wrapped around you as he keeps his cock buried inside you alongside the ropes of cum he messily spilled inside you.

── and nerd!gojo who keeps his cock buried inside you all night, unable to part from your tight warmth.

── and you don't mind, you just pet his hair and tell him how good he did.

── and of course, nerd!gojo who wakes you up with quiet breathes by your ear, his hips slapping against your plush ass because he can't get enough of you.

── nerd!gojo who makes it his mission to make you cum. obsessed with watching you fall apart on his tongue and his fingers, or on his cock or his thigh.

── really just nerd!gojo who finds out a lot about himself and is no longer virgin!gojo because of you.

author's note: someone bring me a NERD RIGHT NOW

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