#i dont have a tag for this yet so let's call it

[methoughtsphantom]

Jason “my family doesn’t know im alive” Todd and Danny “my family doesn’t know I’m dead” Fenton going alongside each of their plans my beloved. like Danny will absolutely go head-to-head with all of Gotham to support his new best friend on all his crime lord endeavors while he drags Jason to also attend collage with him. They are roommates and there never seems to a mention of family from either side. It’s an unspoken understanding they have. They met because Crime alley as a ghost lair thrummed with so much loneliness, it was at first the perfect place for Danny to hide his ecto signature in. But then he saw the dumbass whose lair it was lean his motorcycle just a tad too much when making a sharp turn to an alley, he sweeped the floor through a lifted chain link that passed his body but not his helmet. Yep that’s right the red thing got stuck. Danny who at the moment happened to be watching through his window snorted. Much to his horror because if not a ghost that dude could’ve gotten his head flung off.

Still, the scene was ridiculous.

On a whim he irrationally sees the police closing in on the guy and panicked at the thought of the guy using intangibility to free himself so Danny phased them both through his apartment wall and left the guy sprawled in his couch. Jason didn’t freak out but that’s normal when one’s got a concussion, one the guy immediately denied having as Danny laid out the medical supplies. The idiot proceeded to almost flatten four steps to the door with his stubbornness. He also said “I’m asexual” in the most deadpan voice as Danny dropped him back in the couch.

Danny sighed. Clearly though, he’d done so too early in the night because the guy kept trying to go, kept trying to knock Danny out, kept trying to slash him with knifes Danny didn’t know he had stashed. He’d only disarmed the guy from his guns. The visible ones apparently, cause at one point the guy did take out a gun and shoot until the ammo ran out and then teetered the thing like it was an art prop and hit his moon lamp.

Danny "yeah you aren’t officially my friend until you’ve tried to kill me" fenton my guys.

Anyways both keep having the same argument over if Danny technically kidnapped Jason or not. Danny holds the fact that the police at least didn’t see the guy make the ridicule. Jason argued that happened cause he was sporting a concussion. Danny argued he got that after.

Jason at first thinks the guy's a meta, but no. Danny introduces himself, sheepily now that he recognizes this is who the lair he invaded is from. He bandages him and tries to cook for him. If Danny didn’t have ice powers he most certainly would’ve burned the apartment. Jason then proceeds to kick him out of his own kitchen and make them both enchiladas. It’s the most normal both had in a while with another person and the air seems oddly settled. From then on, Jason constantly invited himself over, under the pretense that this was his territory and therefore he could drop in unannounced. Danny who has actual powers says he only allows this because Jason cooks very well.

Danny stays away from the crime fighting business unless his buddy is in deep shit he can’t get himself out. Also it’s Danny’s turn to cover for his vigilante friend which Sam and Tucker give him so much shit for. (but also advice)

And they were roommates. (omg) Danny effectively derails Jason’s big comeback plans by casually dropping ghost lore every two days. Like,

Jason, talking about how he doesn’t want Bats snooping on his territory:

Danny: Just don’t let them in

Jason: ??

Danny: yeah!! Hasn’t Batman died and got revived??? You can totally kick out death touched people you don’t want entering on your lair.

Jason: …I can?

Danny: Yep dude, your lair’s supposed to feel safe.

Jason: wait does that mean I can kick you out?

Danny: First this is my apartment. Second, im dead, not dead touched. Third, it’s too late to get rid of me. bitch.

Anyways Jason is super excited. You mean to tell him he can actually deny people over to his territory haunt?? (Yes it’s only to people who have died and came back but still!! The sample size is exactly the type of people he doesn’t want to see—!)

Joker my beloathed can’t step foot in Crime Alley.

(Jason’d feel a lot safer if the clown was dead but the possibility of his murderer turning into a ghost and their little loophole not applying on the clown is too scary to contemplate.)

Anyways, Jason loves experimenting with the power. It can go from simply making people shudder and not want to enter crime Alley to straight up not letting them enter like there’s an invisible wall blocking the way.

Jason because he’s hurt that Bruce never even patrols Crime Alley and also because he’s petty put B under the category of “invisible wall” blacklist. His reasoning is that the man doesn’t even attempt to enter Crime Alley. To him it’s surely just a place shadowed in tragedy. (anyways that’s it’s the place he met Jason)

Ironically, Jason totally forgets that Batman does venture into Crime Alley one day in the whole year. The day he met Jason.

Okay. He didn’t forget at first. The first year Jason remembers cause it was only a few months till then but then the next— Jason forgets that today’s the anniversary of the day’s Bruce’s parents died. He forgets to allow B in when he feels a slight tug and dismiss the feeling that prompts Bruce to investigate because he literally can’t enter Crime Alley. He starts the trialsTM, he scouts on the very edge and sees people the whole day enter and get out and cross with no problem but Bruce can’t.

It’s literally just Bruce.

Time to call Constantine, i guess.

[hauntingblue]

making a collection

making another collection with a threatening aura

[xxplastic-cubexx]

this so so unbearably in character for them I fear https://x.com/CharlesZwei/status/1868904193194590318?s=19

bro doesnt know hes bisexual yet ......

[heyitslapis]

Walked out of work today bc long story short a guest decided that she was gonna lecture me/use me & my "abhorrent, disrespectful attitude" as an example of a lesson for one of her student & I decided that standing there & being belittled wasn't worth it

[halfblackwolfdemon]

I love these types of stories!

Bruce Wayne's a Foster Parent. Also he avoids death a lot so a dead person can usually tell if a humans meant to have died but didn't.

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

"Bruce you know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to but-"

Bruce just sighed from his side of the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Nobody ever really expects to get a phone call nearing 3 am but exceptions had to be made when you were a legal foster parent and also a part-time secret super hero. If it wasn't one thing calling for him it was the other.

On the other side of the phone, Bruce heard the caseworker, Roni, chuckle.

"It's just for 3 nights and half of the day after, but I need you to be prepared for something before I can pass them off to you."

Bruce sat upright now on his bed, attentively listening to her words. Usually the kids didn't really come with any pre-warnings from the Caseworker themselves, letting anything about each Foster kid be said inside of their personal files that got sent along with them.

But when she gave out this information it was usually important. The last time Bruce had gotten a warning like this it was for Jason which was ages ago it feels at this point.

"What is it?"

"The kids are-" Her voice trailed off, like as if she was still searching for the right words to say. "They've been through what I can honestly only describe as the equivalent to a meta-kid trafficking lab"

Bruce shifted as he heard the driving continue on the other side of the phone.

"They're very guarded because of what they went through and they might display.. unusual behavior. More unusual then a meta-kids behavior after such a situation would be, but don't let it fool you! The kids are really sweet beyond being afraid."

Bruce frowns at the descriptions before replying to her, mentally trying to prepare himself for the idea of these kids and what they might have went through.

"I'll make a note of it then. Thank you, Roni"

"No, thank you, Bruce. I really appreciate this last minute placement. We'll be by really soon"

He was left with a click as he removed himself off his bed and threw the covers to the side of him. Alfred would want to know that they would have 2 new guests in the manor, at the very least to greet them and have rooms prepared even if they didn't need to have them prepared further then what they already were.

It was less then 5 minutes later that Bruce found himself, with Alfred, greeting the temporary fosters at the front door. Roni looked tiredly at them as she pushed the kids front and center.

Bruce could relate heavily.

"Hello Danny, Ellie. It's nice to meet you both, I'm Bruce Wayne."

Danny just stared at the mans outstretched hand for a second before he turned to look up at him, a pinched look on his face. Ellie matched his expression, although being a bit more subtle about it as she looked over Bruce as a whole.

Eerily, Bruce felt like his very soul was being judge the longer the kids stared at him. He also felt a sense of familiarity with these two kids the longer this continued.

They seemed detached rather than afraid like their caseworker had explained earlier, more so viewing the world as if they were outside of it rather then in it in any way.

Danny was quick to glare at him after another moment, "You're a fruit-loop, aren't you?"

Ellie broke from her own scanning almost immediately when she heard Danny's comment, cackling beside him before shoving him off with her arm. The action made Bruce smile as he took his arm back and placed it by his side.

Alfred also looked amused between the pair of siblings before turning attention to the task at hand again. Bruce just smiled at his pseudo-fathers usual fondness over children, knowing he was being reminded of his own grandchildren.

"This is Alfred. He's going to be the one to show you over to your rooms for the next few nights." Alfred greeted the kids in the same polite way he usually greeted all guests before he leaned down and extended his hands towards their belongings. He didn't grab their belongings just remained leaning over them before questioning the kids if they would like help to take their stuff to their rooms.

Bruce only really saw it faintly and if it were any other moment he might have ignored it as a sleepless hallucination, but for some reason he noticed the change immediately. The twins eyes go from a darker blue to a flashing bright green.

As if alarmed by the sudden movement towards their belongings.

Danny was quick to catch his own staring as well, eyes flashing back to blue for only a second before reverting back to green. Almost as if to give off some kind of warning.

Ellie noticed his staring immediately and shoved Danny again, this time more forceful for his attention before turning to whisper something to him when she had him back.

Bruce felt his skin crawl before turning away to face their caseworker, not really understanding anything they were saying beyond hearing a few words and feeling their eyes look between each other and his back.

Death Touched was an especially new description, and one that stuck in his head the second he heard it.

Bruce waited until the kids were guided away by Alfred before talking to their caseworker officially and waking her up from her half delirious tired drop-off.

"Hey Roni? Is there any chance we can extend the Fenton kids stay?"

There was something going on here with these kids and he was going to get to the bottom of it. One way or another.

[not-souleaterpost]

When you deleted your reddit acount because the Soul Eater reddit doesnt like your posts

Nah but for real, say what you want about tumblr, but reddit is so much more anoying - but maybe thats most social media, tried uploading videos on tiktok only to get copyright stuck the same second or just have them deleted for vague comunity guidelines shit, maybe I was too hard on youtube.

I know crying about reddit is pathetic but I dunno, just let me vent lol, idunno gotta get my shit together, too many distractions and other bullshit.

[nocturnalcharm]

Faking It (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

𐙚 prompt: charles forces you and logan to do a mission together in order to help you bond. 𐙚 cw: enemies to lovers, one bed trope, if this does well i’ll do a part 2 w smut ;) cussing, 𐙚 a/n:  thanks to everyone who's sent me req's! this wasnt a req but id already started it haha if youve sent a req ill try to get to it asap.... also so many ppl wanted to be added to a taglist but for the nsfw alphabet post i dont think it tagged like half the ppl?? so im sorry if u dont get tagged, im trying to fix it :)

18+ blog!! you are responsible for your own media consumption. if any of the above makes you uncomfortable, do not proceed.

“Professor, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“(Y/N), it’s not me you should be apologizing to. It’s your team. That’s who you both let down.” He eyes flick between you and Logan.

“I’ll go apologize to them now.” You turn to leave.

“You too Logan.” Charles says.

On this latest mission, you needed to sneak into a factory and take down all of the enemies— But you and Logan were arguing so loudly, you alerted all of the rivals, turning a few quick sneak attacks into full blown fights. No one was badly injured but you still felt horrible about it.

“This is all your fault.” You mumbled, just loud enough for Logan to hear.

“My fault? You’re kidding.” He huffs.

“Shut up.” You walk ahead of him, on the way to the common room to see your team.

Everyone was sitting there, talking amongst themselves. Once you and Logan entered, they all stopped their conversations and looked at you.

“Guys. I am so sorry about this mission.”

“I’m sorry, extremely sorry, and I apologize for my behavior.” Logan mocked your expression of regret.

“You are such a child, Logan! I’m trying to apologize!” You raised your voice.

“I am too!”

“Can you two just stop?” Hank stood up, silencing you both. “Your attitudes have been getting in the way of every mission. If you guys can’t get along then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh..” You didn’t know how to respond. You couldn’t believe you let your dislike for Logan get in the way of your job, so much that they thought you shouldn’t be an X-Man anymore.

They all left the room, leaving just you and Logan to culminate in your thoughts.

“I think it’s pretty obvious we’re not going to get along any time soon.” He broke the silence.

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He walked out, as you sat in the empty room.

The next day, Xavier called you and Logan into his office yet again. You were concerned, worried he might be kicking you off the team. But instead, he said he had a mission for you two.

“I need you to pose as a couple. You’ll be going to an upscale hotel in Manhattan. It’s a cover for a drug smuggling ring. You two will stay as guests in order to collect information. I need everyone that is there, guests and workers alike, to think you two are madly in love. We don’t know who could be involved, so we can’t have them think anything suspicious.”

“Professor, is that the best idea? We just blew the last mission because we couldn’t stop arguing.”

“If you two fail this mission, I will have no choice but to replace both of you. You are amazing at what you do, but your arguing affects everyone. Not just yourselves.”

“Okay. We won’t let you down.” Logan speaks up.

***

The trip to the hotel was long and frustrating. You two couldn’t agree on anything the entire time. You criticized his driving, he criticized what you put on the radio, and how loud it was. You called him an old man, which just resulted in the radio being turned off and continuing the last hour drive there in silence.

When you arrived, it was late afternoon. Logan, pretending to be your fiance, grabbed all the bags by himself and walked inside. The hotel was huge. It was upscale, classy. So fancy you were afraid to touch anything, in fear it might break.

“Hi! Checking in for Anderson.” He greeted the front desk clerk, giving his forged name. He dropped the bags on the floor and you wrapped yourself around his now-free arm, squeezing it.

“Hello, Mr. Anderson.” She smiled back, “Let’s see. You had the penthouse, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“We’re celebrating our engagement!” You beamed, holding out your hand, showing off your fake engagement ring.

“That’s lovely. Congratulations! We’ll have a bottle of champagne in your room for celebration.”

“Thank you so much!” You squeaked.

He finished the check-in process, then you headed to the top floor.

The penthouse was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge, the size of a decent apartment. Just like the lobby, you were afraid to break something.

“Wow.. This is amazing. Only time I’ll ever get to stay in a penthouse and it’s with you.” You said, as he shut the door.

“I was just thinking the same thing. Now, c’mon we gotta go to the pool. Get changed.” He handed you your bag.

You opened it, pulling out your bikini. It was the only one you had, admittedly from a few years ago. You didn’t have time anymore to relax by a pool or go swimming in the ocean, so this swimsuit had to do. It was a simple black string bikini.

You went inside the bathroom to change. Once you had your swimsuit on, you felt a little self conscious at the amount of skin showing, but figured it’d help with the whole ‘can’t keep your hands off your new fiance’ vibe you and Logan needed to exude for this mission.

You walked out of the bathroom, faking confidence you didn’t have. Logan had taken the opportunity to just change in the living space since he was alone. He was wearing black swim trunks. It was funny, it looked like you two had matched on purpose.

“Wow.” He said quietly, clearing his throat.

“What? You like what you see?” You joked at his clear uncomfortableness with seeing you in such little clothing.

“Whatever, let’s just go.” He spat, grabbing two towels, the key, and exiting the room.

The second you were out the door, you both had big smiles on your face. His arm was around you, holding your side as you headed to the pool.

It wasn’t too busy, just a few kids with their parents, and a bartender at the outdoor bar. You told him you wanted a drink, so that’s where you headed first.

“Hey, can I get two Mojitos?” Logan asked, handing him the room key “And can you just charge it to our room?”

“Of course,” He started working on the drinks immediately, while you two sat and people-watched. He finished the drinks, and gave you them and the room key back.

You said thank you as you walked off, hoping Logan would just follow. There was a small hot tub that was empty, so that’s where you went. You stepped in carefully, afraid of slipping, and sat down in the warm water.

“Really?” Logan whispered, a fake smile still adorned on his face.

“This is what couples do, Logan. And we’re a couple for this weekend. So sit down and act like you love me, sweetie.” Your grin was starting to hurt your cheeks.

He sat down across from you, and you mentally rolled your eyes. You got up, and repositioned yourself, sitting in his lap, “What part of ‘act like you love me’ are you not getting?” 

He was frozen for a moment, caught off guard but quickly acted like he was happy to have you there, to not draw suspicion. You both took sips of your drink, as you continued to nonchalantly looked around.

You two stayed at the pool for awhile, taking mental notes of the guests and employees you saw. Honestly, this hotel didn’t seem too strange. But Xavier said it was a front so you guessed that’s why it seemed so normal, for their cover.

Once your drinks were empty, and the sun had started to go down, you both decided to head back up to the room. He got out drying himself off before wrapping you up in your towel. He picked you up and carried you bridal-style to the penthouse.

“Logan!”

“What? Just acting like I love you.” He smirked.

Once inside the room, he set you down. “I’m gonna go shower.” You stated, not really knowing what to do. 

He just nodded, walking off to the kitchenette. You grabbed your bag and headed to the bathroom.

***

You mentally cursed yourself as you scrambled through your bag, searching for a pair of pajama shorts you thought you packed, but they were nowhere to be found. 

“This cannot be real.” You whispered. The only other clothes you brought were jean shorts, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sleep in those.

You pulled out your oversized sleepshirt, putting it on. The hem landed right above the middle of your thigh. It was a little shorter than the length of a nightgown, so you just hoped he wouldn’t notice. You slipped on a pair of panties, snatched up your things, and exited the bathroom.

You immediately bumped into Logan, who was standing right outside the door.

“What the fuck?” You raised your voice, annoyed. “Why are you right outside the door?”

“I was about to knock. You’ve been in there for over an hour.”

“It’s all yours!” You sassed.

You walked over to the small kitchen, and see he had already opened up the champagne. You had a glass as you sat on a barstool, writing down some notes about the people you’d observed earlier. Pouring yourself another glass, you headed over to the bed.

Just as you made yourself comfortable, Logan came out of the washroom, in just a towel. You stared at his wet torso for a moment, hypnotized.

“My eyes are up here.” He laughed.

You looked up, embarrassed.

“Forgot my clothes. Hey, wait, why are you in the bed?”

“…Because I’m the girl?”

“You're also the short one. I can’t fit on that couch.”

“Oh, c’mon. It’s a big bed. We can both fit just fine. Unless you’re nervous. Never slept with a girl before, Lo?”

He sighed, clearly not wanting to argue, before taking his clothes and escaping back to the bathroom. You silently celebrated your victory.

He came out a few moments later, turning off the lights, sliding under the blankets and getting comfortable. You both ended up facing the same direction. If he was any closer, he’d be the big spoon, but there was a few inches separating you.

You adjusted your body, and accidentally felt your ass rub against him. You went rigid from humiliation, before scooting away slightly, ignoring it since he didn’t say anything.

You tried to fall asleep, but it was difficult, for many reasons. One, you’re not used to having someone else in your bed. Two, he was breathing heavily. Three, you couldn’t stop thinking about how sexy he was.

Of course, you knew Logan was attractive, you’d thought that since the moment you first saw him. But today, probably because of the faux-gagement, the touching, the flirting, you saw him differently. He was still getting on your nerves, but the flames between you two… His body… It was unlike before.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You twiddled your feet, moving around your body nervously, before unintentionally grazing your ass against his crotch again.

“Y’know, if you keep rubbing your ass against my dick, I’m gonna do something about it.” His words sounded gruff in your ear, but they gave you butterflies.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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[mygnolia]

YOU MAKE ME GO CRAZY OVER YOU !!

୨୧ -› hey, that boy over there..isn't he the most popular student athlete on campus? how did you two meet, anyway?

pair -› jock/athlete! enhypen x fem! reader | wc -› 3.5k (700 per member) | no warnings! | library

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ LEE HEESEUNG

im gonna sigh dreamily when i say he’s most DEF basketball captain. 

yes ik i wrote about this in wrong number i dont CARE i will say it with my whole chest 

DORK DORK DORK but cute dork with lethal face card. smirks after making yet another basket and winks at you

age old question how tf did yall meet!!! 

you pass by the gym and some guy on the way stops to talk to you 

like “hey i know you from somewhere”

“yes heeseung we were partners from a project two weeks ago how do you not remember..” 

he’s embarrassed asf especially because he remembers a lot of people’s names

after that he wants to be in your good graces and be friends

totally not because he remembered how you did a lot of the work for said project no complaints!!

and he doesn’t want you to rat him out to the teacher… or tell other people he’s not friendly

‘hey y/n, come to my game? i’ll do better if you’re there :)” 

you go only because you needed to complete an assignment while you were there at school anyways 

but sometimes you’d see him laughing with his friends, or how serious he is on court and woah, heeseung looks cool for once

you wait for him after because you figured he needed you for something 

“awh, you wanted for me?” “i could be doing much better things.” “awh, come on y/n let’s get some ice cream! my treat since we get to spend time together” 

he’s annoying but you let him tag around because he doesn’t bother you LOL

more under the cut!

drags you along when he practices alone so he can have some company

you like the company and the white noise too

you definitely doubt if he likes you because he is SUCH A FLIRT but no he DOES! he writes a confession on a basketball and ‘misses’ so you can catch it

you pass it back without seeing the message 

but heeseung keeps missing and it almost hits you on the head and you’re like ‘dude you SUCK hello??” he says ‘oh lol maybe it’s the ball” byee why was he smooth with it!!!!

you check the message and roll your eyes 

“if i make this you have to kiss me” you tell him and you’re about to shoot but he picks you up and brings you right next o the next to let you throw it in and then kisses u!!!!

not to be like oh im writing an smau on basketball captain heeseung but.. *tucks hair behind ear* 

most definitely tries to be mysterious and cool when you’re dating 

dribbles in front of you, trick shots, runs up to you when you’re alone, gives you one kiss between ever basket he makes 

teaches you how to play!!!!

ABSOLUTELY lights up when someones mentions you when you two date

“oh yeah my partner in math is ___” 

“omg ___?? the love of my life ___??” 

you lowk have to drag him away i fear 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ PARK JONGSEONG 

baseball captain *faints* 

enhypen x mariners and him speaking in english…so you want me DECEASED 

baseball captain jay and you who attends his games because jake aka ur friend on the team knows you have nothing better to do 

“i bet you won’t make it even to five games before buying cotton candy” jake says because you have a MASSIVE sweet tooth 

you tried really hard because $15 and a burger was on the line 

and you kept coming because…well there was a cute captain who always knew how to rally his teammates and get them excited 

also great sportsmanship and was super friendly to everyone! 

definitely got mad when the umpire makes a wrong call 

sharp reaction times. EVEN SHARPER JAW. 

of course you stared! of course you were not paying attention to whatever jake was saying about his test after their game..how could you when jay was doing his lopsided smile as his friend pats him on the shoulder from ten feet away??

one time you come early because they’re practicing on the field and you see jay and jake passing to each other

jay just so effortlessly throwing the ball…oh my god

he’s just so perfect and jake cheers from the sidelines because he knows his captain pays attention to every single person who has stepped foot on the baseball field iNCLUDING YOU

you come up to jake after the fourth game, showing him you still had your $5 and your tongue wasn’t stained with any blue or pink

jay comes over, arm thrown around jake’s shoulder as he waves and smiles to you 

dark hair with a twinge of sweat as he runs a hand through it, pulling it back to place on his cap 

JAY IN A BASEBALL CAP *faints again*

he walks you out to the parking lot and asks what the $5 in your pocket is for because he keeps seeing you pull it out 

you explain your whole bet to him and he nods

next game. before it starts. he gets you cotton candy and makes sure it gets to you somehow 

you smile and you’re all giddy when you eat it because there’s a p.j. on the cap and he’s just so cute 

jake doesn’t say anything he already knows it’s happening between you two. 

jay finally writes on a baseball and tells you to catch, and it says ‘let’s date’ and you grab a sharpie and scribble ‘kiss me first’ 

OH YEAH HE WALKS OVER AND KISSES YOU. 

soon every game instead of cotton candy  it’s his baseball cap when it’s sunny, his jacket when you’re cold, baseballs with notes on them, and roses for his girlfriend aka youuuuu 

jay is such a romantic and he is not afraid to show it 

he orders custom jerseys that say jay/n on the back with the day you got together!!!!! 

BEST BOYFRIEND EVERRRRRR

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ SIM JAEYUN

rugby player jake but he has dark long hair let that settle in 

campus flirt campus playboy but in reality he doesn’t go on dates and nothing really happens past the smiles, he’s just super popular

you are also pretty well known! a little flirty but super sweet and your charm and how expressive and open you are with other people is what people like!

and he sees you cheering with your friend who he remembers is dating someone from the team

rugby has no gear so he just runs like no tomorrow 

smiling in the sun or determined stare as he talks to his team, you never know 

he yells either in frustration, victory, or defeat, literally will never be silent 

so after a game you follow your friend down to the railing and she has her little moments with her boyfriend 

and you and jake kind of awkwardly stand there for a moment 

he wipes his sweat off with a towel and smiles at you, cracking the ice 

“how long have you had to deal with that?” he points over to them 

you shrug and tell him “however long you’ve been dealing with it” he laughs 

oh wow his smile when he’s right in front of you is just so pretty 

and his little chuckle as he shakes his head and looks back up at you 

‘who do you watch on the field?’ he asks, with a little smirk because he likes you 

‘whoever catches my attention’ you tell him also smiling 

oh its a CHALLENGE. he will make sure to run on the side of the field you’re watching from, winking at you on the field, ugh just everything 

you come to a party at the end of the season to celebrate and he sees you 

“you came!!” super happy and makes sure you are next to him all the time 

“y/n you know the teammates, yeah?” you smile and congratulate them 

he leaves to get you a soda/water and jungwon leans in 

“jake LOVES to talk about you by the way” 

“yeah he always says how pretty you are in the library or in class, he likes when your friend comes because that means you come with her”

heeseung nods, “super into you, no joke” 

jake comes back trying to play it off “who’s into y/n?” 

you poke at his shoulder and smile, “you” and he’s all bashful and giggly 

loves to call himself ‘y/n’s girlfriend’ 

‘sorry, i can’t i have to buy flowers for y/n’ ‘sorry y/n needs me to help her study’ ‘sorry y/n needs a ride here’ STUCK TO YOUR HIP

ofc he doesn’t abandon his friends but he loves spending time with you :3

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon’s reputation proceeds him—cold on the court and just as reserved off of it

ugh he’s so annoying, he always has his bag in the same spot as yours and he always is at the water filling station with hos annoying 32oz bottle before you

also hogs that automatic tennis ball throwing machine like how are YOU supposed to practice tennis too 

‘hey i need that’ he furrows his eyebrows and shrugs 

‘i was here first’ ‘what are you twelve????’ sunghoon tells you ‘get here earlier next time then 

oh yeah. for the next week you ran to the courts everytime to get it before him 

one day he sees you and races you to the gates and you beat him 

sulky after as if his career is over

definitely varsity and one of the best, but he never approaches girls after his games

one time you go to a men’s game because it’s one of the most anticipated of the season 

its neck to neck, third set with 40-adv, sunghoon’s serve

he chases after that ball and sends it over, it barely hits the net and tumbles over, AND HE WINSSSS BRAHHHHH 

even if you hate him you will admit that he made the game extremely interesting 

you see his friends congratulate him and you notice that he never gets his clothes dirty 

always wears white to practice—pristine asf 

secretly he loves watching you too

even if you hate him for getting on your nerves some days and almost never doing more than bare minimum, you cannot lie and say sunghoon isn’t a huge inspiration 

just as you are to him 

sunghoon thinks your tenacity and passion for tennis is what makes you so fun to watch 

so even if he has homework, he goes to a game of yours and comes down to the court after the game 

bumps your shoulder after, ‘good game, y/n’ and you’re like ?? ‘you’re here?’ and he’s sooo nonchalant when he says ‘of course, i can’t miss a fun game can i?’ 

there’s a fun mixed doubles tournament for a whole gift basket of things and you come up to him 

‘hey let’s pair up’ and he grins 

you two play each other for practice and you’ve tied the score so many times you’ve lost count

and sunghoon’s a little annoying but oh lord he’s so attrative??? so maybe he wasn’t THAT annoying…

mixed doubles tourney rolls around and oh yeah. you two win.

you know much he likes natto and you say ‘here you take the natto’ he shakes his head ‘no you eat it all the time’

you two bicker and you say ‘fine lets just share it!’ and to your surprise..he opens the package and just mixes it all in 

you two sit and share the natto, then he tells you he thinks you’re pretty cool on court 

you raise your eyebrow cuz where is this coming from!! and he rolls his eyes 

‘nevermind maybe you’re only bright on the court’ 

‘hey what’s that supposed to mean!!!’ you take the natto and eat all of it LMFAO and then he pouts because noo his natto!!!

you kiss his cheek. it’s ok everything is ok now he is a happy boy 

“you’re my match” you write on a tennis ball pin and he keeps it on his bag like his life DEPENDS on it

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ KIM SUNOO

THE CUTEST VOLLEYBALL SETTER EVER 

i hate to be like oh you’ve had the fattest crush on him for like two months BUT ITS TRUE 

you’re on yearbook and you make an excuse to go see sunoo play!!

you two met when you were at a volleyball game and you told him to smile, but he’s one of those guys who says “wait delete that take another one!!” 

and ofc you agree, snapping a few cute photos of him

he posts to his social media, tagging you with a cute song saying ‘thanks photographer :3” 

and so you it begins, your small little crush on him..

he loves seeing you at his games, always makes sure to wave to you on the court 

hey so setter sunoo is insanely good at what he does 

so graceful when he places a NASTY setter dump on the other team, a glare shot at one of the other team’s members bad-mouthing him, but a glowing smile as he high-fives all his teammates! 

super supportive, and you loveee that about him!! he cares so much about everyone it makes your heart warm 

“here, let’s eat together,” you tell him, and you bring him some noodles you made because he said he was craving some 

he smiles at you and sits down, beginning to slurp slurp slurp and SCOREEE he loves it 

“thanks y/n, let me treat you some time :)” UGH DEAD DEAD 

KIM SUNOO KING OF FLOAT SERVES 

huge smile on his face when it lands where it needs to, he loves that feeling of satisfaction and soaks up all of your praise after his games are over 

he slips out of practice sometimes to see what you’re doing in yearbook, and he’ll take your camera to tell you to smile as he takes pics

someone in your class tells you too to look overfor a photo , so he loops an arm around your shoulders to pull you close and smile 

AND OH EM GEE UR LIKE TOTALLY GEEKING OUT OVER IT HELLO??????/ 

you ask her to print you a copy of it to save in your scrapbook, but sunoo cuts in and asks for another one 

“i like seeing you” DEAD IN A DITCH esp when he smiles at you and then runs off to practice before he gets in trouble

so competitive on the court and it makes him a little sulky when he loses 

“argh i did so bad today” he’d tell you, but in your eyes hello kim sunoo could do no wrong!! and you share your snacks while reassuring him 

he swears tho, “nooo, i had to look cool for you!” and you’re tired of hearing him say and do all of these sweet things and straight up 

“why?” “what do you mean, y/n?” “why do you want to look cool for me?” “well i liked you duh!” 

but sunoo never wanted to confess, he was too scared he wasn’t good yet at showing you all of his perfect bf traits 

WELL HE THOUGHT WRONG!! he’s been perfect from d1 so now he just sneaks in like 40 kisses before every game 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ YANG JUNGWON

see so jungwon, he’s been a little FLIRTY as of recently. 

“you like older guys? but im a younger guy with rhythm” WHAT THE FKSCNHDJFD

whatever. anyways jungwon focuses on badminton like it’s a lifeline 

hitting birdies in his sleep would be smth he would do if he could, he loves how aggressive he can be in the sport without moving too much, lots of strategy involved 

you come to one of his games because your friend is on the other team, and you want to cheer him on

but jungwon notices you’re literally from his school?? 

isn’t it weird you’re going to a game for someone on the other team…

so he sets off a plan 

he goes to you after the game before your friend can

“hey, how come you don’t support anyone on our team” so straight to the point help 

and you tilt your head in confusion because “well i don’t know anyone from the team and you’re all scary”

scary??? jungwon makes it his personal mission to debunk that cuz no one is SCARY 

maybe sunghoon but that’s because he’s varsity 1 and the best player within 150 miles but whatever

he makes it his mission to wave to you when he sees you and when he’s sat next to you in one of your classes he’s like yay perf 

“you’re the guy from that badminton game huh?” “is that a good or bad thing” 

you shrug “whatever you want it to be” 

and he asks you to go to his next game but if he wins, you have to support the team and if he loses 

and you stare at him like “wtf do i get out of it” 

jungwon did NOT think about that 

he promises to buy you a snack after 

and it’s free food so you can’t complain 

you two talk more and he finds out you used to play badminton before you hurt your ankle and wanted to focus on school 

so he takes you to practice and gives you one of his expensive rackets

lowk falling in love everytime you laugh and chase the birdie 

jungwon pretends to hate chasing after it but he’ll still hit it back even if it’s out of bounds because he doesn’t want to waste your time picking it up

you two sit down and you tell him how fun it was to be able to play, and how much you missed it from your childhood 

your school holds a small festival where other school athletes go against your team modified lighting rounds 

paired with vendors and fun carnival stands, but the main attractions are always the variety of sports to watch

jungwon is one of the representatives from your school but so is your friend from the other school, so it’s heated when they play

you tie a ribbon around his racket (curtesy of sunghoon for helping you out) and write a note saying “if you do good ill cheer for you” 

AND HE WINS. so you keep your end of the bargain and cheer for him after the game is over, giving him a high five and a hug

he walks with you and asks about what you two are BECAUSE THIS IS A DATE this is date behavior 

“of course i like you won who wouldn’t”

let’s just say he gives u little kisses all over when you two are alone sigh so cute

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ NISHIMURA RIKI

he’s been on the soccer team ever since he was a freshman and even before, retaining his cute features and mischievous personality 

when you became assistant manager you were scared but your brother heeseung was on the team and your mom told you to look after him at school 

and riki takes after heeseung a LOT when they play and heeseung even goes as far as inviting riki over 

so riki’s super good at soccer by the time heeseung leaves, but he also has this small crush on you that heeseung’s told you about 

you just never said anything because you never had a reason to nor were you uncomfortable with it 

but junior year hits and riki comes back from winter break with pitch black hair all styled 

also…a lot taller than you. and no more baby fat 

and you paid attention to some of it because you saw him for practice, but the hair really did it 

during practice he loves to mess with you saying things like “can you fill up my water y/n pleaseeee” “no you have two feet” “ill win the next game against ____ if you get me water” “i’ll kick you off the team if you don’t win” 

he sighs and gets up, glaring down at you and you try not to let his playful stare affect you, but SOMETHING was different something was in the air

if riki doesn’t play good, it’s because his team manager aka you is NOT there 

you come back the next day to find out he was sulking and didn’t play super well because you weren’t encouraging him

“go run a lap, riki” and HE DOES JUST THAT “go practice on the field by yourself”

“how about you ask me to date you next” he grumbles 

and you HEAR him. loud and clear. 

but you’re like agh what if he doesn’t mean it what if he’s just joking 

at the next game he does super well and you congratulate the whole team 

yas team hybe eats 

you two are getting ready to go home when he finally brings it up

“you heard what i said on tuesday” and you know exactly what he means 

“yep.” “so why didn’t you say anything back” “i didn’t know if you were being serious”

he scoffs “y/n when have i ever not been serious about you”  

he opens your door even if he’s passenger princess 

makes fun of you for how much closer you need the wheel to be to drive

YAYYYY Y/NKI IS REAL

he loves to drape an arm around your shoulder walking around school 

acts as if he’s older when you two are literally the same age HELP 

reblogs/interactions are appreciated always!

have some shameless self promo for my spiderman!riki fic!

and my upcoming jake fic!

[emilys-bangs]

hiiii this was under the hydrangea list and i thought it was cute but okay what if it was new agent reader and season 12 emily (maybe they arent super young but ykwim) and reader gets drunk for whatever reason, and emily has to take care of them. like take them back home or whatever and she said “you should get some rest kid” and then reader is like “pls dont call me that im so attracted to you and it makes it weird if you call me that” this is a mess of a sentence but im sleepy and i have read all of your work and im starving okay im done love u bye

This made me laugh, ty for requesting! I love love love it (and you). Join my celebration here <3

Tags: drunk!reader, bau!reader, flustered emily

Word count: 1.1k

Being Unit Chief comes with responsibilities. Taking drunk subordinates home is not one of them. 

And yet here she stands, stepping out of the rowdy bustle of the bar and hailing down a cab, half an eye on you and half on the car as it pulls up to the curb. 

Emily’s fingers curl around the handle. She pulls open the backseat door and nudges you in, cushioning the sharp carving above your head with her palm. And for good reason, because seconds later, your forehead bumps into the back of her hand.

“Emily, Ma’am,” you say politely when she gets in, your fingers fumbling with your seatbelt, “y’don’t have to take me home, you know.”

Emily ignores the Ma’am.

“It’s on the way to mine,” she replies, her eyes tracking your struggle with the seatbelt. She’s about to intervene when it slides home with a click.

“But it’s so early!” You huff, sinking back against the seat. “You can’t have wanted to leave yet. You like to party, I think. You look like a partier.” Your eyes lock with hers, serious despite the glazed shine to them. Still ever the profiler, even with alcohol humming in your blood.

Emily’s lips tingle with the need to smile. It’s nice to see you loose and easy; in the few months since you started at the BAU, you’ve been polite but detached, quiet unless it contributes to a case, and meticulous in your work. Emily saw the way you kept your distance, but she knew it’d fade with time.

Tonight is proof of that. A few drinks in, an hour or so of Garcia’s lively chatter, and you shed all professionalism off your shoulders. In the span of a few hours, the floodgates have opened wide. 

Emily isn’t sure she wants them to fall back closed.

“Y’know, you need a break from all that paperwork,” you say sagely. “Too much paperwork, and all of it’s on your plate.” 

It can’t be comfortable, the way you rest your head on the edge of the window. Your outline shudders with every bump in the road, but you seem perfectly content. Comfortable, even, your legs stretched out near hers and crossed at the ankles.

“Somebody’s gotta do it.” Emily murmurs. 

“Shame it’s you,” you say. The soft slide of your slur is strangely endearing. “You’re far too pretty to spend so much time in the office.”

Her brows arch in surprise. Emily lets out a short laugh, her neck growing hot, the strands of her hair suddenly poking into her skin. She doesn’t reply—can’t, really, because you go on a ramble, seemingly unbothered by the bomb you’ve dropped on her and turning your fleeting attention to some topic she isn’t really able to focus on.

Her cheeks are still warm as your voice fills the silence of the car. Soft and lilting in uneven slopes, your thoughts unwinding like pools of thread, trailing from one topic to another with hardly a pause. It’s nice, Emily thinks, to hear your tongue wrap around unmarred, bloodless words for once. Her ears hardly get reprieve from your rambling until the car stops and you once again fumble with the seatbelt. 

Streetlight pours in through the window. All at once, you’re gold. Your nails, the tips of your lashes, the frown you direct to the buckle.

Emily leans over, her own belt cutting across her chest, and undoes it for you.

You melt with relief. A beam lights up your face, lips stretched wide over your teeth. The sight is still unusual; she stares a little.

“Thanks.”

Emily swallows. Nods. 

“I’ll walk you up.”

“Oh no, no, it’s—”

“I’ll walk you up. C’mon.” Her voice falls softer than she wanted it to. Emily moves almost on autopilot: undoing her belt, getting out of the car, reaching for your elbow when you teeter above the sidewalk.

“You really are a top notch boss.” You mumble, pushing open the door of your apartment building.

Emily presses her lips against a smile. “Don’t expect this treatment every time. One time service only.”

“Part of the newbie package?”

She’d never walked anyone up to their door. A shared ride and a misspelled text minutes later was enough to make her rest easy. 

“Something like that.”

You hum and rub your eye, taking halting steps down the hallway. Emily’s eyes carefully watch for any stumbles, but you lead them safely to your door. 

The key is unsteady in your hand when you pull it out. She watches it thunk loudly against the lock as you try to slot it in, gives you three seconds, then gently takes it. Your mumbled protest goes ignored.

Emily undoes the lock and swings the door open into warm light. Her eyes instinctively flit over your home, inquisitive—nosy—before she catches herself and averts her gaze. She pulls the key out and places it in your palm, then gently nudges you in.

“C’mon. You should get some rest, kid.”

Emily doesn’t fully realize what she’s said until you pause over the threshold, a violent shudder rocking your shoulders. “God, please don’t call me that,” you grimace, face scrunched up with animated disgust. “’M so—god I’m so attracted to you, makes me feel weird to hear you call me that. Please don’t call me that.” You reiterate.

She can’t look away from the scrunch of your nose. The silence rings, and your face crumples into a frown.

“You don’t think of me as a kid, do you?”

Emily’s mouth is dry. 

“No, god no. You certainly aren’t…no, I don’t, I’m sorry,” she says breathlessly. Her skin itches with embarrassment, flaming hot where your slow eyes track. “I see JJ’s kids a lot,” she blurts, “and, you know, take them out to parks and stuff…and sometimes with Reid—you know…” 

God, somebody shut her up.

“Force of habit. I promise. I don’t see you as a kid, far from it—”

“Oh, she’s a rambler,” you laugh, something airy and feather-light. “I believe you, Chief Prentiss. But only if you’ll call me something else.” You say, a touch coy.

“What do you want me to call you?” Her voice comes out breathless.

“My name.” Your blink is slow, lashes kissing your cheeks. “M’first name, not that…L/N bullshit.”

Before tonight, she would’ve thought you preferred it. 

Emily’s glad that’s not the case. 

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, yeah. Y/N.” She tests it out. Your face brightens; her lips curve up before she feels it. “Please get some sleep.”

Still spilling laughter, you touch two fingers to your temple. “Yes, Ma’am. G’night, bye.”

The door thuds closed.

“Emily.” She murmurs to it.

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu @ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @professorsapphic@decadentcatcrusade @piiinco

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Onychinus Personal Chef I

ꩇׁׅ݊ You became Sylus' personal chef based off of pure chance. He's picky, he's annoying and he is just so damn fine. ꩇׁׅ݊ fem!reader, sylus x personal-chef!reader pt 1 of a 4 part series A/N: [Based on this] Shout out to @kindalonely-ngl for this idea and thank you for tagging me love. I wouldn't be me if I didn't take some creative liberties though.

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Being Sylus' personal chef was never on your bingo card of life yet here you were staring down the red-eyed man with nothing, but pure loathing. That faithful day when you were just about to start closing up for the night he and his two crow masked friends walked in asking for a meal. They looked exhausted and you didn’t have the heart to turn them away. You never thought that one visit would become a daily thing. Not only did he come by daily, but he sent in multiple orders a day. The constant orders were helping your family’s small business so you didn’t complain.

This went on for months to the point where your grandparents considered him a family friend. That all came to a head when he waltz in one day offering you 'a deal you simply can’t refuse'

“You do realize it’s just me and my grandparents right? I can’t just leave them to run this place alone Mr. Qin” You usually address him by his first name, but you knew using his last name would wedge some kind of distance between you two and you wanted him to know how upset you were. You couldn’t let yourself seem welcoming at all especially when it came to this insane proposal.

“I can have new employees here to help and I will pay off the debts your family owes on this little restaurant” Your eyes widened in shock how did he know about your family debt? He grinned as he leaned down to be eye level with you. “Do we have a deal?” Your lips curled in disdain “What's in it for me?” You said through gritted teeth, Sylus could practically see the venom dripping from your lips.

And damn were your lips pretty.

Sylus was focused on your lips as he replied “Free housing and a hefty salary all while you get to cook with the finest appliances and cookware that money can buy” His gaze snapped back up to meet your narrowed eyes. “I have to live with you?”

He stood back to his full height as a chuckle seeped out of him. Damn even his laugh sounded like it could fix your finances. “You’ll be on call twenty-four seven it would be beneficial if you were already on sight dont you think?” You hated that he was right, commuting back and forth would be hell.

“Do we have a deal? Yes, no, maybe so?” Sylus bent at the waist and held out a hand almost as if he was bowing to you. You rolled your eyes and looked off to your left as you stuck your hand in his. You were shocked to feel his lips touch the back of your hand with a quick kiss. You felt your heart rate sky rocket as you pulled your hand away. “When do I start?”

“Tomorrow. Leave your address with Mephisto I'll have movers sent to you by morning” With that he turned and disappeared in a cloud of black and red mist.

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[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 1 ] || [ Chapter 3 ]

Pairing: Soap x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1K~ cw: a bit of dirty talking/innuendos Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you?

Chapter 2: Johnny

“Oh, hello…” You remarked to yourself as your eyes locked into a stunning pair of blue eyes on your screen, stopping your mindless right-swipping. “...Johnny.”

“You’re 29… A soldier… Scottish… Are you friends with Kyle?” You mused playfully. “Let me guess, you’re a gym bro, aren’t you?” You asked sarcastically as you tapped your finger on the right side, skipping through his pictures. The first one immediately after was him lifting while wearing a weightlifting belt. “Yup… Mandatory gym pic.”

Chuckling to yourself, you snap a screenshot of his profile to the girls as well, sending it quick.

leah: @/mia Whatever good energy you sent its working. second hot guy in the last 5 minutes! mia: i lit a CANDLE for this!!!!! leah: there weren’t any handsome guys like this when i was on tinder?! 😫 UNFAIR. 🙄 you: blow it out then cause this is the 3rd actually. leah: 3rd??? Where’s number 2??? you: didn’t think to snap a screenshot. hasn’t matched me back yet. mia: has he posted a shirtless pic? you: kyle did and this one idk but probably. need to check. leah: Don’t forget to send it over.🥴

Shaking your head and laughing in amusement, you went back to Tinder, checking on ‘Johnny’. The mandatory gym pic was there… a couple of them in fact! And then the mandatory shirtless selfie. Or rather… The mandatory shirtless SELFIES. Plural.

Three of them… The first one was him just straight up wearing just a towel… And the next was him in a kilt… And the next was him with a button-up very much so unbuttoned. 

“Oh, my, Johnny-John-John… You sure know how to woo a bird…” You joked to yourself.

You dragged your finger down to check his bio and immediately frowned. “Of course…” You trailed off with a disappointed frown as you snuck another spring roll into your mouth.

He might be stupidly attractive, but his personality… Gosh, he doesn’t know how to sell himself. Boring, boring, boring. “I work out and like video games!” You quipped mockingly and scoffed a bit.

“Artist.” You remarked when you reached the last of his profile’s tags, spotting that word in the hobby section. “An artist? You?” You asked your phone screen as if Johnny would come alive in it and answer you. 

You’d admit, him calling himself an artist was intriguing enough, but normally that wouldn’t be enough to make you Swipe Right on him… But you’re not under normal circumstances. You promised your friends you’d Swipe Right on everyone so…

Your phone almost dropped out of your hand as soon as the ‘It’s a Match’ screen showed. “Of course… He’s probably swiping right on everyone as well…” Rolling your eyes, you go to click off the screen but accidentally enter DMs.

Johnny: ye have any scottish in you? you: not that i know of. Johnny: would ye like to? 🫦 Johnny: wait. wdym not that ye know of??? Johnny: i was trying to be filthy and now got me curious bonnie

“Fuckin’ hell…” You said as you set down your phone and covered your face before breaking into a fit of giggles.

The fact you had accidentally ruined his pick-up line and succeeded in stumping him got you very, very amused. Okay, maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as boring as you thought.

you: story for another time. you: i walked right into that one tho. good job. Johnny: no ye cant do that Johnny: gotta tell me all about it now you: i mean werent scottish people everywhere in the uk at one point? you: i might be 1/370232103484320th scottish. Johnny: would ye like some MORE scottish in ye then? 🫦 you: solid attempt again. you: if you keep trying you might just get there. Johnny: i intend to dont worry you: soooo… Johnny: so? you: were you wearing underwear under the kilt? Johnny: no Johnny: why want a peek? 😏 you: i’m good you: so ur an artist? Johnny: i am Johnny: ur fast at typing fuck you: what kind? you: keep up then! Johnny: drawing Johnny: im trying 🥴 you: can i see some? Johnny: hanging with my mates difficult to text fast 😤 Johnny: idk if ull be in the mood to see anything after im done with ye you: why? 🤨 Johnny: might be too tired and need to be cuddled to sleep 😏 you: oh fuck off. Johnny: u just cursed me out Johnny: i think m in love 😫 Johnny: gonna tell my mates i just met my spouse 🥴🥴 you: don’t give them any ideas. you: haven’t even agreed to meet up with you. you: haven’t been invited in the first place. Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏 Johnny: meet up with me 🙏

Your eyes widened at his enthusiasm and persistence. Okay, he was definitely not boring… It was actually kind of endearing and funny!

you: jc r u copypasting that? Johnny: yes Johnny: are ye going to or not you: can i get back to you on that? Johnny: ill wait for ye you: sure you do that johnny Johnny: ow the sarcasm burns

Concealing a chuckle, you clicked off the DMs page for the second time tonight… but, this time, you closed the app and focused on eating dinner.

Sure, this whole dating app thing was stupid, but at least you were enjoying yourself. 

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taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthoney , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe

[kiyomitakada]

i know its a classic. possibly cliche already. but i do wonder about Tumblr In The Death Note Universe probably more than i should

2 notes

💅 toxicbff Follow

if i see one more post attributing kira's powers to ~supernatural powers~ instead of the obvious fact that the cia is doing a coup I'm going to start giving You the heart attacks

💅 toxicbff

of course i saw the news how does that not prove my point further

the idea that all the police around the world could be mobilized by one single person is ridiculous (just look at this list of how many civilian militia there are globally)

heart attack victims don't seize the way "lind l tailor" did

i don't know how to tell you that You Can't Kill People Just By Knowing Their Name And Face because this is Real Life and not the newest grimdark marvel villain

people need to stop being scared of the ~bogeyman in the closet~ and wake up to the fact that usamerica is trying to take over the goddamned world

💅 toxicbff

im going to kill you all and nuke this website

#sayonara you weeaboo shits

2,925 notes

👾 lets-go-geeks Follow

DO TRUMP NEXT

🕵🏾‍♀️ penny-penelope Follow

LIKES TO CHARGE REBLOGS TO CAST

16,375 notes

❤️‍🔥 lovesickened Follow

i know its stupid but im so fucking scared for my brother i heard that seven people died this week at the prison he's in and iinjust dont kenow what to do ihate him for ehat he did to mom but i never wanted him to die

#vent tw #delete later

0 notes

🏎 fastandyurious Follow

if i get a single more comment about why i don't tag "genderbend" on my kiratective fics i'm going to blow up the entire building. we don't know EITHER of their genders. why don't YOU tag your mediocre yaoi genderbend instead

🔆 sparkling-world Follow

…OP, you realize the news reports all consistently use "he," right?

🏎 fastandyurious

of course i do???? just because you see something on the news doesn't mean you have to believe it?????? they don't have any information on kira yet but i'm supposed to believe the fbi knows their gender already??????? also kira is literally a fucking girl's name my classmate in elementary school was called kira

🔆 sparkling-world

Kira comes from the Japanese romanization for "killer," it isn't gendered whatsoever.

Also, evidence shows the majority of serial killers are male, so I'd argue that the statistics favor the fujoshis here.

🏎 fastandyurious

well evidence shows that female serial killers are just more fun to write about and I'd argue that you're ignoring my fucking POINT which is that we DON'T KNOW KIRA'S GENDER and if people don't want to read lesbian kiratective they can FUCK OFF MY BLOG

🥚 i-offer-eggman Follow

I offer you an Eggman in these trying times.

🔮 I-stands-for-le-gay Follow

@lashitpostcalligrapher yo can i get "the statistics favor the fujoshis" on my tombstone

#fandom: kira rpf #ship: kiral #never heard it called kiratective before… #also uh. prayer circle for op's classmate lmaoooo

2,107 notes

💃🏻 modelingmadness Follow

BOYCOTT EIGHTEEN MAGAZINE

THEY ALLOW KIRA-SUPPORTING MODELS AND ARE COMPLICIT IN THIS MASSACRE

SOURCES HERE AND HERE (TRIGGER WARNING: KIRA DISCUSSION)

PUSH BACK AGAINST HEART ATTACKS

🧚🏽‍♂️ harubaru Follow

golly gee ^_^ suddenly i feel like taking to the high seas in a way that the eighteen company cant get profit from. oh no ! who left this link here

🐦‍⬛ kuro--misa Follow

thanks for the link but jesus fucking christ man what happened to free speech. misa-misa's parents were killed by a burglar who kira punished. did you all expect her to just sit there, look pretty, and say nothing about it?

you people only like models when they're nice pictures for you to consume. you only like them two-dimensional and smiling and hot. the second a woman actually speaks her mind she's thrown to the wolves

💃🏻 modelingmadness

DID YOU NOT SEE MY BANNER YOU PIECE OF SHIT

#BLOCKED

140 notes

🐦‍⬛ kuro--misa Follow

lol. lmao even

#they blocked me but whatever #official eighteen site just said misamisa wont be in the next issue #(eighteen sucks but i kind of want to use it more out of spite now) #so much for apologism huh? #god. i feel sick. #hasn't she been through enough.

1 note

🥷🏻 kira-imagines Follow

Imagine you're going home after a long day. Suddenly there's a sound. "Huh? Whose there" you ask, dropping your keys on the floor. Then you feel it. A knife pressing in your neck.

"Don't move kitten" Kira purrs behind you. "You're all mine now…"

#kiraxreader #kiraxoc #kira #kira rpf #kira investigation #kira fucker #kira fudger #kira lover #kira haters dont touch #kira haters please touch #kira supporters please touch #l

5,733 notes

asahi-the-student-deactivated201

Hello, everyone! My little sister told me about this microblogging platform (I admit, I'm a Twitter refugee) and that many of you are discussing the Kira investigation on here. I'm really interested in hearing what your thoughts are!

💋 sunny-sayu Follow

let the record show he lasted like. a day

#i think it was the imagines that did him in #bro is so sensitive :p

15 notes

kiyomitakada

the world could be beautiful

[ @deathnotetober day 14: trigger ]

[hyuckhyukahansol]

Hold On, We're Going Home

────────────

"you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.”

or

you're a popular soloist and your secret boyfriend is a kpop idol. when your Canadian tour dates line up, you both opt to stay at his parent's home in Vancouver, but even with his parents asleep downstairs, mark just can't seem to keep his hands off of you after your show.

tags -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈  idol!mark, soloist!reader, fem!reader, reader is american, porn with minimal plot, established relationship, childhood room, twin bed, missionary, jealousy, possessiveness, praise AND degradation, mentions of reader being small, ATTEMPTED quiet sex, sacrilege if you squint (theres a jesus on his wall), size kink if u squint, marks parents are mentioned but theres no dialogue with them because im not writing that, reader has her drivers license, implied that reader is not christian, reader's love language is being mean to mark, EXTREMELY unserious

nicknames ┇ his babe yours princess!! baby... etc

date started┇march 20 2025

date posted ┇march 28 2025

wc ┇4.4k

A/Ns ┇ nothing like a good "lets fuck on my childhood bed!" 

room based on the mark's homecoming teasers for firstfruit.

umm mark probably doesnt have a childhood bedroom in canada because he was like 13 when he left for sm and also he lived in new york before that so lets just pretend for the sake of the fanfic that he does ok? ok! >_<

in section 2 i mention bible study as a way for me to skate around actually writing meeting marks parents LMFAOOO um im unsure if this is a popular thing everywhere else but like i know in the south at least its like youth group but for older people where they'll have a like mini religion discussion thing? i dont know i havent been to church in several years and i'm atheist 😭 iykyk i guess

reader's dialogue is based off of me and im a very strange fella and i cannot be serious for one single second so its kind of bad 😭

FINAL NOTE im completely a virgin like ive never even kissed anyone LMFAO so if the smut seems inaccurate at all thats on me because i refuse to let a real obtainable man get that close to me 😆

────────────

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

01. prologue

"no way our tour dates line up." 

you were in disbelief when your boyfriend called late at night to inform you that you would both be in the same city at the same time and that it just so happened to be where his parents lived: vancouver.

you were tucked under your warm, plush duvet with an unnecessary amount of pillows under your head and you groan as you sit up from them, cold air hitting your newly exposed skin, leaving goosebumps in its chilly wake.

"i'm serious dude, the company usually lets me visit my family when we go for canadian stops. i could see if i can stay at my parent's house for longer.. and you could come with me.." mark's voice got higher as he started adding to the equation. "and maybe you can stay.. and meet some people.."

"you're saying you want me to meet your parents?" you reply blankly, holding in a laugh at your boyfriend's shyness about asking. you lean back in your bed, cotton fabric sighing with effort.

"see? that's my girl, i knew you'd get it." your face heats at his words.

"oh dude you're flirting..." you quote him, earning a sound of annoyance from the other end of the call. you snicker.

"you actually have to stop watching those fan compilations." you giggle at how easily it both annoys and embarrasses him that you keep up with what he does at work.

"okay, i'll stop watching fan compilations of you when you delete your folder of edits of me" you offer jokingly through your fit of laughter.

he scoffs "that's out of the question." 

"okay then i guess i get to keep watching videos of you goofing off at work." 

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

02. the twin bed

several months ago, your boyfriend had asked you to meet his parents in person. both of you living in seoul and being music artists meant that trips home were few and far between, so it made sense that mark would ask you to meet his parents in real life once the finally opportunity arose after two years of only seeing them in 2160p on a facetime screen. mark would've asked sooner if he weren't swamped with schedules — between three groups and solo activities, it was near impossible to find any amount of time to fly home, let alone with a secret girlfriend who's schedule was just as packed as his.

both of your tours had already started and you really hadn't seen much of each other since. you were grateful for the large amount of time you had in vancouver: about three nights of time together before you'd each have to take your separate flights to different cities for the rest of your respective tours. you had your show the first night of the three-day stay and his was the night directly after. 

mark had taken a plane with the rest of 127 and you opted to take a completely different flight; it wasn't worth the trouble of having to deal with both of your own saesangs on one flight as well as risking being caught. since mark's plane departed earlier than yours, he arrived at his parent's house much earlier than you, having already unpacked what he needed and started catching up with his folks when you rang the doorbell on the single-family home. as you were marveling at the normalcy of the house, your boyfriend swung the door open, giving you a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"did your staff already leave?" mark asked after surveying the street outside and not finding any cars. you turn and look back over your shoulder quickly even though you know you won't find a car there either.

"yeah, dropped me off and then sped away." you answer as you step inside. mark closes and locks the door behind you. 

"well, after she got out of the passenger seat because i begged her to let me drive-"

"you drove?" your boyfriend cut you off, eyes wide and eyebrows raised so high that his forehead was wrinkled.

"pfft, yeah?" you roll your eyes dramatically.

"i have my license and i'm a big girl. got here in one piece and everything." you reassure the man as he takes your suitcase and carryon from you.

"dude, you have an american drivers license."

"ooookay? it's basically the same! y'all drive on the right side of the road too.." you playfully push mark's shoulder, pouting as you continue.

"i never get to drive in korea. can't drive on the right there." you switch from a playful pout to a curious expression. "where are mother lee and father lee?" you ask, using your favorite nicknames that his parents thought were so endearing and silly. mark chuckles before answering.

"they're at wednesday bible study, so we have some time to unwind before you have to mingle with anyone other than me." mark explains, walking towards to stairs that lead to the second floor of the house. "my room is upstairs. it hasn't been redecorated since i was, like, 13." 

"oh, how fun." you joke, beginning to walk up the stairs with your boyfriend following behind you. "can't wait to see all the.. um.." after a long pause, you stop at the top of the stairs and turn to face him. "i can't finish my insult because i have no clue what little canadian boys like."

mark laughs and you're sure if his hands weren't full he would start hitting you in his fit of laughter like he usually does, but instead he hunches over a little at the joke before directing you to the last door on your right. 

the room is small and littered with old books, cd cases, and cassette tapes, all lined up haphazardly on painted wooden shelves that were much taller than you, the freshest layer of brown paint peeling in worn spots to reveal the previous paint job done in teal. in the left corner, against the flaky yellow wallpaper, sat a red guitar and in the right corner there was a boombox on a shelf above a bed. on the right wall was a crucifix and ivory jesus stared down at the bed below it with its mismatched plaid duvet and sheets and more pillows than any one boy needs, all with different pillowcases on them, one checkered blue, another white with blue stripes, the other two in solid teal and red. it was cozy, but something irked you and it wasn't the carpeted floor or the popcorn ceiling.

"you didn't tell me it was a twin bed?" you exclaim, turning to mark who looked like he'd just seen a ghost. he makes his way past you into the room, speaking as he sets your bags on the beg and sits next to them.

"yo, listen: you can have the bed to yourself and i can have the floor if it makes you feel better" mark offers, trying to soothe you. you're still stood in the doorway, leaning against it now.

"i dont want your funky ass twin bed? id rather sleep on the cold kitchen floor downstairs." you complain, frustrated at the entire situation. "I don't want to sleep without you but also I'm not sure we'll both fit comfortably." you express. your boyfriend looks at you funny. 

"are you serious?" he starts, getting up from the bed and walking towards you, stopping when he's stood just close enough that you have to look up to meet his eye. "there's definitely enough room. we'll just have to cuddle." he explains. you look up at him through long lashes and pout. 

"i'm starting to think the reason you didn't tell me is because you just wanted an excuse to hold me all night." you accuse. mark holds his hands up in a way that says 'you got me.'

"well, usually you complain that i'm too warm and you end up moving away from me after i fall asleep." mark admits with a slight frown, dropping his hands to his side in order to hang his shoulders in an attempt to sulk. he looks so cute when he pouts, large dark eyes shining at you with a hint of an apology for withholding information. you push yourself off of the door frame in favor of draping your arms on mark's shoulders, fingers touching around the back of his neck.

"okay, but you do get super warm and you know i run hot too." you defend yourself. mark pits his hands on either side of your waist and cracks a smirk and you know he's thinking of a terrible joke.

"yeah, super hot." 

"ew, that's so corny." you scrunch up your nose, making a disgusted face and he giggles, leaning in to pepper your cheek with kisses that you can feel the smile in.

"you're making me reconsider my option of sleeping alone." you threaten, but he only wraps his arms around you and holds you tight instead as if to say that there's no way you can back out of it now. you accept defeat.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

03. the concert

mark's parents were just as kind in person as they had been over video call. they just couldn't stop telling you how you were so much prettier in person and how proud they were that mark had found "such a nice young lady." you told them how lovely their home is and thanked them for letting you stay. the meeting was brief since you had to get to your venue for sound check and other preparations, so when your staff arrived to pick you up and whisk you away to your job, you apologized and swore that you would talk more the next day, assuming they probably wouldn't be awake by the time you got back.

sound check was smooth and you enjoyed seeing your fans for the 45 or so minutes it lasted. afterwards, you had your makeup and hair done and put on your first outfit. you made sure to take ample selfies so you could choose what to post after the concert, what to send to bubble now, and what to send to mark since you had down time. 

you: [image]

markus 😒😋: my gorgeous gorgeous girl

you grin at your phone, face heating to the point you start to fan yourself. you giggle at your own incoming joke as you look through your camera roll for a video to send to your boyfriend. the video is a clip his fans like to use of him with a blush filter on his face. (you know the one)

you: [video]

markus 😒😋: yeah ok im blocking you now

you: NOOOOO ☹️ 

markus😒😋: too late. need to start being nicer to your boyfriend

you: but youre so cute when youre annoyed..

markus😒😋: your fans are like really loud by the way

you: ???

markus😒😋: [2 images]

markus😒😋: your number 1 fan

the images mark sends you are one of the stage you're supposed to be on in about an hour and the other is selfie of him, mask hat, and glasses on, in a seat at your venue.

you'd attended each other's concerts before and it certainly wasn't a secret to either of your fans that the two of you knew each other, having done challenges, tiktoks, and other collabs together, but it still would give you butterflies when he would show up to a concert. 

you: 🥹 i told you if you would tell me beforehand that you were coming then you wouldn't have to actually buy tickets

markus 😒😋: its no fun when you know already!!! 

you: next time get floor tickets so i can have eye candy in the crowd

markus 😒😋: yes ma'am 🫡

the concert went super well. you were on time and your mic was loud enough for once and your costume wasn't itchy and your boyfriend was in the crowd. you were sure multistans had already spotted him there and you hoped that he was having a good time and that everyone was leaving him alone.

during the section of the concert where you walk around and sing into a handheld mic and do fan service, you spot a particularly funny sign. the sign, which was decked out in glittery letters and lots of hearts read: "y/n let me get that nda"

you double over in laughter as the back track plays without main vocals before continuing singing, going over to the fanboy holding the sign and taking his phone to record with it. the fan all but faints when you hand his phone back and blow him a kiss. when the song ends you talk for a bit about your tour so far and read other signs, flirting with your fans (as one does) and drinking water to soothe your throat. you don't particularly even think about what you're doing as you interact with the crowd, simply happy to see them smile.

the rest of your concert goes smoothly and you stay for around 30 minutes after everyone clears out in order to help your staff pack equipment and to make sure you didn't forget anything personal at backstage. when you're changed into a hoodie and some sweats and sitting in the passenger seat of your staff's car, you notice mark hasn't texted you, which is weird. mark always texts you after a concert even if you're going back to the same apartment. you assume maybe his phone died when you shoot him a "how was it?" text and he doesn't respond. you're really too exhausted to think of anything else as the road lulls you into a quick nap as you're driven to your boyfriend's parent's house.

𐔌 ﹒ ⋆ ꩜ ⋆ 𓂃 ₊ ⊹

04. jealousy, jealousy 

mark's parents are asleep when you get back to their home, making for a silent house other than the whirring of the air conditioning and the click of you locking the front door. your boyfriend greets you as you walk through said door with a kiss on the cheek. you take in his already scruffy hair and pajama clad legs as well as the loose t-shirt he obviously just threw on.

"did your phone die?" you ask, worried as to why he didn't respond to you.

"yeah" he rubs one of his eyes with the back of his hand "man, um, traffic was crazy, i only just got here and changed."

mark hasn't been this awkward with you since the first few months you started dating. there's obviously something bothering him but you really don't know how to ask, especially when it's so late and you're still tired despite your nap. 

"yeah, i didn't actually drive back so i was able to take a power nap through it." you reply. mark simply hums and turns around, walking to and up the stairs, abruptly deciding he's done with the conversation. you follow him, face twisted in mouth opened, furrowed-brow confusion whenever he had his back to you. mark lingers by the doorway in his room as you pass him to flop down dramatically on the bed, facing the wall, only bothering to kick off your shoes and socks. you don't even notice the click of him locking the door while he turns the lights off before he curls up behind you, chest to your back as he wraps his arms around you slowly. sensually. mark's breath fans on the back of your neck before he plants several slow kisses there, moving until he reaches right below the shell of your ear. all the while, his large, warm hands can't seem to to anything other than wander under your hoodie to caress your waist and stomach. you let out a breathy and quiet chuckle.

"babe, what are you doing?" you ask in a whisper.

"you know you're mine, right?" mark whispers into your ear, completely ignoring the question, yet answering it at the same time.

your skin heats all too quickly. you know exactly what this is. he's jealous. of what, you're really not sure.

your boyfriend continues to kiss around your ear, moving now to your shoulder, each kiss messier and needier than the last. one of his hands moves to cup your breast while the other sits right below your belly button, tantalizingly close to where you can feel your arousal pooling in liquid form. his pinky dips under the waistband of your sweats and stays there as he toys with your nipple, pinching the bud with two fingers, eliciting a soft whine from you to which he hisses.

"have to be quiet, baby. be quiet for me? for me?" he repeats. you breathe out a shaky "ok" as you move your arm behind you in an attempt to feel up your boyfriend, petting his side.

mark snuggles closer and you can feel his erection against your ass as he continues to massage your breast. his other hand finally dives under the waistband of your sweats, middle finger finding your clit oh so easily as he begins to almost pet you, cupping your entire mound and rocking his hands against it, middle finger pressed ever so slightly between the lips and against your bundle of nerves. you try your best to keep your whines down, your once free hand now occupied with covering your mouth. you buck embarrassingly and helplessly against mark's hand.

"desperate, huh? that why you made a show of yourself?" he coos.

you nod. of course it wasn't the truth and you both knew that. you really still weren’t sure what you even did, but your mind was too hazy to do anything except play into his hands, literally and figuratively. 

mark begins to rub circles into your clit, using the friction from your panties to add to the sensation of it. you struggle to stay quiet and when you let a particularly obscene sound slip, your boyfriend groans, pulling away from you.

"sit up, baby." he commands as he gets off the bed and drops to his knees in front of you. he runs his palms up your clothed thighs when you turn to face him.

"take this off for me, princess?" he requests.

you oblige, lifting your hips to discard your sweats, deciding your hoodie is too much and discarding that as well. you don't know when mark removed his shirt, but between him locking the door and getting on his knees, it had been tossed to the opposite corner of the room, bunched up and barely visible from the moonlight filtering through the window. 

mark pushes your legs open and slots himself between them, kissing the inside of your thigh, face oh so close to exactly where you need him. you look down at him in awe. the way his messy brown hair falls into his prettily-pink tinged face and how absolutely drunken on you he looks when his gaze flicks up to you might be enough for you to cum on the spot. you're practically throbbing for him when he finally presses a kiss to your clothed clit. your breath hitches and you let out a soft whimper at the contact.

"you still haven't exactly told me what i did.." you remind mark as his thumbs hook under the hem of your underwear. they linger there for a moment while he answers.

“i think you know."

you lift your hips once again to allow mark and to slip your panties down and toss them somewhere in the room. the air is cool against the heat of your cunt and you fight the urge to close your legs to keep in the warmth.

"so fucking gorgeous." mark mutters before rolling his tongue against your clit. you let out a loud whimper and he shushes you gently but does nothing more to stop you when he licks a fat stripe up your pussy before sucking your clit and coming off with an obscene pop that has you biting into the hand covering your mouth. he returns to it, making slow circles of it with his tongue while he inserts a finger into you, then two, pumping them in and out and curling them at an agonizingly slow place.

you whimper around your hand for a second before taking it slightly away from your mouth.

"i s-seriously don't know— hah— w-what i did, babe." you manage to get out.

mark pulls his face away from your heat, replacing his tongue with his thumb, increasing to a medium pace.

"touched other people. laughed at their jokes. just missed you so bad, princess. wished it was me.” he melts into the side of your thigh, looking up at you as he answers before focusing intently on the way his fingers move against you. the sound of his fingers inside of you fills the room with nasty squelching. his free hand has been rubbing circles into the outside of your thigh this whole time and you attempt to grab it to hold his hand when he finally speeds up a third time, going a pace that you can finally feel your orgasm building with. he swats your hand away.

"think you deserve it?" he asks

"m'sorry." you reply, opting to place the hand on his sheets instead. you can finally feel your release building and your moans get harder and harder to contain behind your hand.

"mark m'gonna cum, please" you plead with him. for what, you're not sure. 

"that's it, good girl." he coos "let it all out, princess." 

his praise is just enough to make you topple over the edge of pleasure, orgasm washing over you in waves as you let out a silent cry. mark finger-fucks you through it, not bothering to stop even when your thighs threaten to crush his head or your foot hits his back, before slowing and then finally pulling his fingers away once your clenching ceases, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick it clean whilst you catch your breath. 

"lay down, if i don't fuck your brains out right now i'm seriously gonna lose it." your eyes widen as you reposition yourself so that you're laying on your back while mark discards his pants and underwear. he crawls over you, holding himself up on one forearm as you start making out, tongues melding against each other. he breaks from the kiss to lean back and put one of your legs over his broad shoulder. he teases you, rubbing the tip of his fat cock against your still-sensitive clit.

"nobody else can do this but me right, princess?" he asks and you can hear his breath hitch as he continues to rock himself against you. you shake your head in response.

"need it so bad mark." you plead with him, tired of the teasing and the empty feeling in your core.

mark lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in slowly, inch by inch, coupled with quiet groans. the stretch is something you're never used to no matter how many times the two of you fuck; the way he fills you is delicious.

he pauses when he's fully inside you, leaning over you, causing the leg on his shoulder to fold back on you. he kisses your neck and jaw and nibbles at your ear he pulls out until just the tip remains and thrusts back into you, causing you to let out a loud combination of a whine and a strangled groan, to which mark quickly covers your mouth with his hand. he starts slow, rocking in and out of you at a leisurely pace. his free hand that isn't muffling your noises rests beside you on the bed so that he doesn't absolutely crush you. mark makes sure not to fuck into you too hard, worried the loud sounds of skin on skin might wake his parents up. 

"think you can cover your own mouth for me?" he asks and you nod.

he pushes himself up so that his chest is no longer flush with yours and his hand is no longer covering your mouth. you hover the back of your hand over your mouth so that your voice is still audible enough for mark to hear, commanding him to go faster. you cover your mouth as he obliges, and he starts letting out soft moans. they're not nearly as loud as yours but they're so sexy that you almost can't help the way you try to roll your hips up into him in response. 

"what would all your fans think?" he says. "folded in half for my cock... all for me." he adds, starting to get lost in the feeling of your pussy pulling him in. he throws his head back and you swear you could cum from the sight right then and there. 

something snaps in mark- maybe its how close he is or how warm you are, but he stops caring about the noise and starts making pointed thrusts into you, hitting that sweet spot in you that makes your eyes roll and your back arch off the bed. the sound of his skin on yours is loud and if you weren't so fucked out then maybe you'd care, but your brain is fuzzy and your skin is tingly and the only thing you can think about is how impossibly tight the coil in your stomach is. your hand isn't enough to muffle anything anymore, your fingers keep curling and you're squirming so much that it's hard to contain any sounds you make. mark seems to have forgotten where he is because he just starts praising you like you're alone in his apartment.

"so fucking gorgeous. gonna cum, princess? yeah?" he coos.

through babbles and broken groans you manage to get out a broken "please." his thumb finds your clit and he rubs it in rough circles and you swear you're on fire. your orgasm crashes into you like a crack of lightning and you open your mouth to let out a silent scream. you squirm and kick and mark holds your hips down to fuck you through it, chasing his own orgasm all the while. he cums not too long after you with a chant of your name and a broken, choked moan as he fills you up with ropes of hot seed. your chest heaves and you honestly forget that you even exist until mark's words bring you back.

"you don't think we woke them up, right?"

────────────

A/N ┇OH GOD!!! im actually really scared i hope this isnt as bad as it seems to me i think i just dont like it because im the one who wrote it. i got a bit out of character for mark but like also who knows what hes like during sex. you dont know. i dont know. AHH! um i hope you 🫵 enjoyed it. take a shot every time i said the word you in this fanfic.

I got distracted while editing this because I had nct mvs playing in the background and 90s love came on… winwin I miss you

[jingler]

Wizard101 Pov: you're scrolling on spiralblr some point around arc 2

0 notes

👀 lail-brighteyes Follow

I'm never going on a field trip again THEY PUT ME IN A FUCKIBG ZOO

🌈 gayrizzleheim Follow

A field trip to a zoo doesn't seem too bad??

👀 lail-brighteyes Follow

No you misheard me. I'm not at the zoo, I'm in the zoo. As in, I'm in one of the cages and people are taking pictures of me.

35 notes

🏡 chillin-like-a-titon Follow

Can there stop being attacks on the spiral for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES????

140.1k notes

✅️ wiz-polls-daily Follow

8,341 notes

🪦 is-malistaire-dead-yet Follow

YES.

🪦 is-malistaire-dead-yet Follow

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME

33.2k notes

🌋 spawnofhellhound Follow

Idk if I'm just dumb but I truly don't understand colonization in the spiral. Like you travel through time and space and through the stars and find an entirely different world doing just fine and you say, "that's mine now" ???????

🕶 beyondbonetts-deactivated

spiralblr simplifying and overexageratting other worlds' problems. why am I not surprised.

🐠 luckyhooker Follow

🕶 beyondbonetts-deactivated

NOT WHAT WE'RE CALLED

12.3k notes

⚰️ wolf-deathsinger Follow

stopped by the back of ravenwood for the first time in a while and malorn ashthorn was there still lmao I guess it makes sense for the younger students to be taught there so they don't have to go all the way to nightside but what a flashback

☠️ malice-and-ash Follow

If you think I'm mentally prepared to take on the real world after Ravenswood you got another thing coming. I'm guarding that pit til I die.

⚰️ wolf-deathsinger Follow

ok first of all didnt know you have spiralblr hi second of all does....does ambrose know you're still squatting there teaching the younger students?

☠️ malice-and-ash Follow

Titan knows. I don't think that man leaves his office. I get a sack of gold each month but I think gamma is in charge of finance.

🧙‍♂️ wizardstrong456 Follow

The owl? That's why my student loans got fucked up 🤦‍♂️

🪸 coral-oceanswimmer Follow

ew, what is a specieist doing here

99 notes

🕶 beyondbonetts-deactivated

I am sick and tired of all you pretend activists calling me marleyboner. It's literally a slur. Idc if you think it's funny to shit on worlds you deem ~problematic~ but disrespecting an entire world's name like that is unacceptable.

🪩 spiral-gayte Follow

this you?

👑 amul3twh0re Follow

i love posts where you can see exactly why the op is deactivated

30.4k notes

🦀 underdaseamen Follow

listen i have nothing against wizards visiting celestia but if you do can you please use a mount that makes sense for the area. yall have no idea how terrifying it is when you leave your house with your crab friends and a fucking horse starts swimming toward you.

6 notes

🐷 randolf-spellshine Follow

about to go fight this wizard in the spiral cup ill post the video later

🐷 randolf-spellshine Follow

i got my ass beat bruh im not posting that shit

1,243 notes

🦡 baddestbadger-inavalon Follow

4,371 notes

🦋 ladyorielfan23 Follow

Why we should have expected the y**ng w*z*rd destroying Azteca (part 1)

yw crit under the cut

i have to put something here but i do not have the energy to write an entire essay from ladyorielfan23's perspective so imagine a super angry rant here about how problematic the young wizard is omg why would you say that ladyorielfan23 also my apologies for fucking up the lore in the last dashboard simulator i have no idea what this game's plot is

[s-lverwing]

LIVE ENTOMBMENT

pairing. emperor caracalla x priestess!reader.

summary. Not even the holiest temple of the empire, nor its towering walls, nor the sanctity of Roman faith could shield your sacred oath from the reach of Emperor Caracalla.

word count. 5.6k

warnings. dark themes. religious themes/guilt. dub-con. fingering (f). vaginal intercourse. unprotected sex (please use protection if u don’t want a baby or an sti). creampie. talks about first times. blink and you’ll miss the sti mention. death through live entombment. historically inaccurate (dont look at me) deprecating language towards concubines i’m sorry. fem!reader. i didn’t provide much physical description just small breast. this may touch topics bigger than this fic and the whole movie, please don’t take anything seriously. shame, shame and shame because you can’t take the catholic school out of the girl — so in roman faith it maybe not shame oops. english isn’t my first language.

a/n. please if you enjoyed this leave a comment, reblog, whatever u want 🐛. this is my first time writing smut and i have NO experience at all so expect whatever. caracalla gives small dick energy but it’s fine. please babes read the warnings i don’t want to trigger anyone, stay safe 🫶🏼 ily all.

tags: @miragens-para-uma-vitoria @spookysquids @ghosstbb @snazzynacho @hazelwebsterboo2 @krissy1736 @janis01127 @dollyonm0lly

THE FIRE ALMOST LICKED YOUR FACE AS YOU LEANED IN, STRETCHING TO RELIGHT ONE OF THE CANDLES THAT HAD GONE OUT.

The heat pressed against your skin, and for a fleeting moment, you reached up to touch the veil covering your face, half-expecting to find it scorched, melted away like wax. Should it be taken as a sign? The goddess often spoke in symbols, in whispers of smoke and flickering flames, guiding the six Vestals entrusted with keeping the sacred fire alive.

But you had never felt the goddess close.

Not once.

The thought sat heavy in the back of your mind, an ache you rarely allowed yourself to acknowledge. If the gods had abandoned you, if they had never truly called you to this fate, what did that mean? The stories suggested that those forsaken by their divinities had only one path left— painful death. You don’t fear death, but if you were left by your own devices, there’s only a few punishments you would go through if the slightest sight of what’s inside shows.

A rustling of fabric broke your thoughts.

“We should take turns,” said Aurelia, her voice soft, hesitant.

You turned to her, watching as she fidgeted with the delicate folds of her veil. Aurelia was the embodiment of faith, the very vision of purity and devotion—never nervous, never uncertain. And yet, here she stood before you, hands trembling slightly, her eyes darting away as if afraid to meet yours.

You studied her for a long moment, searching for answers in the quiet between you.

“Is something wrong?” you finally asked.

She hesitated. Just for a breath. Just long enough for the flickering firelight to cast shadows across her face.

“I—I’m tired,” she murmured.

It was a lie. You could hear it in the slight hitch of her breath, see it in the way her fingers twisted around the fabric of her robes.

Your own eyes fluttered shut for a moment, the weight of unspoken truths settling over you.

Something was wrong.

But you let it pass, unfortunately.

YOUR FOOTSTEPS WERE DELICATE, SOFTENED BY THE CRACKLING HUM OF THE FIRE.

Thoughts swirled in your mind, feelings of uneasiness crawling through your spine as you pondered why Aurelia had seemed so desperate to escape. There was a strange weight in your stomach, an unsettling sense that perhaps you were being excluded, left alone in this sacred space. The temple had always been a place of solace, yet tonight it felt foreign, far and almost suffocating. You had never been alone here before—nor had you ever felt quite so distant from the others.

It wasn’t that you lacked a belief in the gods, nor were you entirely devoid of grace, but somehow your spirit always felt like it existed on the outskirts of devotion. The other girls were steadfast, their faith blooming like a garden of unyielding confidence. And you, in comparison, were a flicker—a flame too fragile and small to catch the attention of the divine. People might have called you fortunate, chosen to safeguard the sacred fire, but months of solitude had quietly eroded any certainty you had about your own place within the temple walls. Your heart grew heavy with doubt in your sanctity and in your purpose.

The day the twin Emperors visited, it all seemed to shift. Geta, calm and composed, held himself with some dignity, though there was a certain sharpness in his gaze, a warning to those who dared fall short. His presence, though commanding, was distant. But Caracalla… Caracalla was something else entirely. His recklessness set the air on fire, he had a wild energy. He wore a mischievous smile that stirred something primal in your chest, making your pulse quicken, your breath falter.

He approached you, too close, too boldly. His ring-clad fingers danced with ease along the hem of your veil, grazing the curve of your shoulder. It was the smallest of touches, but it burned—seared its way into your skin. And when your eyes met his, when you stupidly allowed your gaze to linger, something in his expression shifted. It was no longer a smile, but something darker, something dangerous. You couldn’t name it then, but it made a fire bloom deep in your core, a warmth that spread in waves through your veins. The flame expanded when his knuckles brushed your cheekbone. His smile deepened, his eyes turning as dark as the night sky. And in the naïveté of your mind, you dared to think it was the gods themselves drawing near. You foolishly believed they had come to speak to you.

But then, with a slap of his hand, Geta’s voice cut through the haze in your mind, and everything turned to fog. After that, you remembered nothing.

Now, as your name echoed softly through the blurred silence, you turned, your breath catching in your throat. The world around you felt uncertain, hazy, as though you had crossed into a realm where nothing was meant to happen, and yet everything was. Confusion poured down your face, but still, you recognized him—Caracalla.

His energy, raw and untamed, circled you, wrapping around your mind and heart in a dizzying blur. There was a part of you that wanted to pull away, to retreat into the quiet sanctity of the temple, to places only you knew, to remind yourself of the sacredness you were meant to uphold. But that part of you was drowned out by an unspoken call that urged you forward, into the chaos he brought.

And then, with a suddenness that took your breath away, he was there. His hand on your waist, pressing you against the cold stone, and all your thoughts scattered. Despite his smaller stature, Caracalla’s force was overwhelming, driven by a newfound force. His presence swallowed you whole, leaving no room for thought, no space to resist.

“Aren’t you a little Godsend?” His voice was low, mocking. “Rome’s favorite Vestal… so pure, so untouchable.” His smile widened, darkening his features.

Caracalla’s laughter, dark and sardonic, hummed against your ear. His voice was a ripple in the air, the sound of something so dangerous yet tantalizing. Your body froze, whether it was fear or desire you couldn’t know. The line between the two blurred as the pleasures of the flesh—foreign, forbidden—saturated your senses. His touch was invasive. You had never wanted to be touched like this, you didn’t know you could. Your heart hammered, and in the dimness of your mind, you begged the Gods to turn their eyes away, to you, to let the sacred fire burn out in atonement for your sins, for the betrayal of your vow. The Gods could blind themselves to your transgression, your weakness, your broken oath. Perhaps this was your punishment.

His fingers, driven by a reckless hunger, sought your center—awkward, eager, and almost feral in their pursuit. You fought the urge to speak—to ask him, with a trembling voice, if he knew what he was doing. But that would be dangerous. Too dangerous. His state only weighed your unholiness further. Buried beneath 6-feet of dirt. It made your breath heavy, it made your mind turn into a downward spiral.

Your breath quickened, a strange weight pressing on your chest. And then, when his fingers finally found their target, you jolted against him involuntarily, as if the air itself had shifted in your lungs. He kissed your neck, a soft graze of lips against your skin, and you had no choice but to melt into him, as though your body had betrayed you too. His rings scraped your sensitive flesh, an almost mocking reminder of the weight of his power over you.

The delicate, sacred space you had once held in reverence was slipping away, slipping into his hands. The center that had been yours alone, the place where no man had ever tread, was now violated—corrupted by him. And everything else, your dignity, your faith, your sanctity, would follow. It would all be his.

Caracalla was finding momentary sanity in the action.

“You’re a gift sent from the Gods,” he whispered against your ear, his words dripping with a twisted promise, like a threat beneath honeyed temptation. The sound of your breath—choked, gasped—was foreign to you, a new thing emerging from your throat. It was a moan, or something close to it, unrecognizable and raw.

His movements were unrefined, a desperate rhythm against your clit, slick with the evidence of his intrusion. The sensation sent waves of confusion and discomfort through you. You arched your back, instinctively attempting to distance yourself from the foreign touch. But it was a new sensation, one that both terrified and confused you. It was unlike anything you had ever felt—the same unnamable feeling you had experienced the first time he dared touch your face, but brutal and more suffocating. Words and knowledge were smaller than that.

When his fingers trailed along your slit, his cold rings grazing your clit, your body reacted violently—your knees buckled beneath you. You leaned forward, struggling to keep your balance, only for your elbows to crash against the unforgiving cold marble. Caracalla was quick, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you upright, guiding your trembling body back in position. His wet hand slid to the side of your face, squeezing it roughly against the marble.

“Stand still. Don’t be stupid,” he growled, frustration creeping into his voice. His short fuse was infamous amongst the Vestals. You could feel it in the harshness of his grip, the sharp edge of his command.

His hand returned to the warmth between your thighs, this time tracing soft, deliberate circles around your entrance, playing, teasing. The cool bite of his rings brushed against your clit, drawing another moan from your lips—this one unrestrained, wanton. Caracalla pressed closer, his body molding against yours, his hardness unmistakable against the curve of your ass. Yet thought itself felt impossible, dissolving into the heat pooling in your core as his finger finally entered you, finding the place that was once sacred.

For a fleeting moment, the sensation was so wholly consuming, so unlike anything you had ever known, that you almost believed the Gods were speaking through him. But then a broken sob escaped your throat, and as your gaze flickered downward, reality sharpened. His fingers lay claim to your most untainted place, and you knew—this was no divine intervention.

It was close to a secure and painful death, buried alive. But you couldn’t be selfless enough to try and make him stop.

A whimper escaped as he pushed another finger inside, stretching you open, slow and unyielding. The sensation was a paradox—pain and pleasure entwined, like pressing against the sting of a wound, knowing it would hurt and yet seeking it still. Your walls fluttered around him, instinctively resisting, and he exhaled a quiet, satisfied hum.

“Would you like a taste?” he whispered, his lips grazing your cheek.

Before you could comprehend what he meant, he pressed his slick fingers against your mouth, parting your lips with ease. The taste was unfamiliar, strange, yet not unpleasant. “Suck them,” he commanded, and you obeyed—what else could you have done?

A pleased sound rumbled from his throat as your tongue hesitantly curled around his fingers. The response was immediate. Your body arched, pressing into him, seeking the return of his touch before you could even think to deny yourself.

As if he could read your mind, he obliged. But this time, there was no patience. He thrust his fingers back inside, deeper, rougher, as if he had only been toying with you before. You had no way of knowing. No way of understanding. There was only the rhythm of his fingers, disappearing into your slick heat, withdrawing just enough to tease before plunging back into your warmth.

He barely felt any pleasure from the moans, groans, or breathless cries of his concubines. Their sounds were rehearsed, predictable. It was a performance meant to appease him, to convince him of his own prowess. They existed to stroke the Emperor’s ego, not to satiate his desires. And so, more often than not, he silenced them—pushing their faces into silken pillows, muttering sharp commands that reduced them to nothing but warm, pliant flesh beneath him.

But this was different.

Your sounds were uncertain, trembling on your lips because you understood the weight of this sin. Your moans were small, caught in your throat, untrained. There was no calculation behind them, no attempt to please him, no knowledge of how to. You were real. And that alone was enough to undo him.

“Caracalla,” you breathed, voice breaking as his short but thick fingers curled inside you, coaxing a sharp arch from your spine. Your hands grasping at the cold marble as your knees threatened to buckle once more. The unyielding surface bruised the delicate skin of your arms, but you barely registered it beneath the slow, torturous drag of his fingers within you.

He kept his pace unhurried, savoring each tremor that rippled through you. He was impossibly hard, grinding against you in reckless, languid movements. And then, he laughed—soft, breathless, as if delighting in a private, nasty joke.

He was having the sweetest thing in the empire. Not even his brother could claim such a gift. To take a Vestal, to be chosen by the Gods themselves to desecrate something so holy—there was no greater privilege. No greater proof of his favor.

But you felt only the weight of abandonment.

His hand ghosted over the curve of your waist, sliding upward until his fingers found the swell of your breast, still covered in soft linen. He squeezed, possessive, branding bruises into the tender skin beneath the fabric.

The fire that had settled deep in your core spread, licking at every inch of your skin, turning your clothes damp with sweat. Strands of hair clung to your fevered face, the scent of sweat and something faintly sweet lingering in the air. You swallowed hard, shame clawing its way up your throat as the unbearable sensation built between your thighs.

“I think I need to pee—” you whimpered, mortified by the confession. It was unbearable, a pressure unlike anything you had ever known, twisting deep inside you.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek—brief, careless, lacking tenderness. A hollow gesture of gratitude beneath the watchful eyes of the Gods. He would play his part, and so he continued, his touch growing rougher, more insistent. The hard edges of his rings grazed your clit in passing, a clash of warmth and cold, of flesh and metal, sending a sharp tremor through your body.

You could not name this feeling. It was neither fear nor excitement, yet it curled deep inside you, spreading quickly.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you braced yourself for the humiliation that was sure to follow—for the shame of breaking in front of the Emperor, the one whom the Gods spoke through. A whisper at the back of your mind wondered if he ignored your trembling because he thought you might run.

If a soul knew of this, it would be the end of you.

And then, in a single breath, your body was separated from your mind. A slow, uncoiling wave surged through you, leaving you trembling, your form convulsing against the cold marble and the solid press of Caracalla’s body. It was an eruption, a collapse—inside the temple, inside yourself. For him, it was all the same.

No sound escaped your lips, only the soft shudder of breath as the moment shattered within you.

He slowed his movements, his grip turning almost indulgent. Soothing his newly claimed treasure, his sacred offering.

One hand lifted, wrapping firm and possessive around your throat, his fingers pressing just enough to make you feel the weight of his claim. Like a hound with its prey.

“You’re truly a godsend,” he murmured, his voice low, reverent in its own way. “I knew it the first time I saw you… My stupid brother was wrong.”

You did not know what he meant, nor did you know what to say. You could only stand there, caught between his grasp and the remnants of something nameless unraveling inside you.

Your body stirred, aching, the dull throb in your neck reminding you of its strain. You shifted, instinctively trying to turn toward him, but he stopped you. Why should he deny himself the sight of you—the flush warming your cheeks, the softness in your features as you unraveled beneath him? One hand still pressed your cheek against the cool marble pillar.

“Stay there. Don’t try anything.”

But why would he think you would? Why assume defiance when you had already surrendered, when you would fall to your knees if it meant this feeling could last forever? Hadn’t you spent your life in prayer, in devotion? Hadn’t it been all you ever knew, all you ever were?

You felt him shift behind you, heard the quiet muttering of a curse as he wrestled with his own garments. Your eyes, following his movements as best they could from your awkward position, caught glimpses of him—his form smaller than his brother’s, his features marked by the cruel affliction whispered about everywhere.

Compassion ghosted through your heart, a fleeting thing. But you did not pity him. Perhaps he was right—perhaps he had been forsaken by the Gods only to be rewarded in the end. Even if you could not understand why you were his gift.

The struggle ended with a quiet exhale, and then he was upon you again. His hands, rough, found the bare skin beneath your garments, pushing the fabric aside with practiced ease. Another breeze slipped through the temple, meeting your newly exposed flesh, making your body arch instinctively—anticipating, aching, silently craving for the fire to consume you once more.

But then—something else. Something different.

A slow, deliberate glide through your folds, featherlight. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, soft sounds escaping his lips, slipping into the sacred hush of the temple.

And all you could do was wait, trembling, caught between the cold marble and his touch. It was foolish to ask. Foolish to do anything but wait, to surrender and expect nothing and everything all at once. The fire inside you rekindled, licking at your skin, unfurling through your limbs. Everything bloomed again, sharper, stronger, until it pushed soft, breathless moans past your lips.

He pressed against you, the hardened length grazing your clit over and over, sending exquisite tremors through your body. Instinctively, you sought more, aching for him to consume you entirely. You wanted to melt against him, for your skin to become his, for this moment to live beyond time—a myth whispered through the ages, even if its end was tragic.

A groan, deep and unrestrained, spilled from his lips as he pressed the tip inside you, his teeth dragging along your cheek in a near-affectionate torment. Your breath hitched. It was no longer his fingers seeking refuge within you—this realization alone sent your mind spiraling, shattering the chains of prejudice and inhibition. Then you understood.

He thought he was about to explode when he pushed the tip inside your welcoming and holy walls. A high pitched groan kissed your ears, as his teeth caressed your cheek. It was no longer his fingers seeking refuge within you—this realization alone sent your mind spiraling, shattering the chains of prejudice and inhibition. Then you understood.

Now, even as pleasure clouded your senses, you grasped why this was forbidden, why it was punished by death. The Gods had to be jealous of earthly delights, of mortal pleasure. Of the way divinity itself could be found in something so profane.

He pushed deeper. He was not large, bit thick, but the sheer intimacy of it made your body tighten around him, made your breath catch as the stretch burned sweet and unbearable. You couldn’t remember how to stop, how to breathe properly.

His breath was hot against your cheek, heavy, his presence overwhelming. With every inch, he stole the air from your lungs, until there was nothing left of you but this.

Caracalla laughed again—a low, humorless sound, thick with madness and possession. It slithered down your spine, coiling itself around your throat. There was no escaping this. No running from the hands that bruised your hips, from the hunger that devoured you whole.

His touch burned, his fingers pressing into your flesh as if to leave his mark beneath the skin. He was savoring you—drinking you in—every tremor, every flutter of your cunt around him, the way you stretched, soft and wet, to fit him. It was a feverish worship.

“Even holier than I thought,” he murmured, almost reverent.

But you weren’t listening. Not to his words, not to reason, not to the lingering taste of sin on your tongue. Your mind floated somewhere between pleasure and death, where all things bled together. You pressed your forehead against the cold marble, your cheek slipping from his, as if to escape the heat of his breath.

But there was no escaping him. The Emperor of Rome had carved himself inside you.

A ragged groan spilled from his lips as he withdrew just enough to make you whimper. He did not leave you, would not leave you—just hovered on the edge, teasing, savoring, as if you were something holy. The last thing he would ever kneel before.

Then, with a slow, deliberate push, he sank deeper.

Your body shuddered violently, pleasure and pain melting together, and when your knees threatened to give, his grip only tightened. He would not let you fall.

And then he did it again. And again. And again.

Each slow thrust burned through you, stretching you open inch by inch, his cock dragging against every trembling part of you. He was deliberate, agonizingly so, grinding deep, only pressing further into your undoing. You felt yourself unraveling. His scent, earthy, musky, heavy with sweat, sank into your skin, drowning your senses.

It was torment for you both, though for different reasons. Caracalla was nearly edging himself, caught in the cruel conflict of restraint and indulgence. He should be taking you as he did all others—without thought, without care, without this unbearable intimacy. He should be brutal, impatient, spent and gone before he even learned the shape of your pleasure.

But you were no common whore. No concubine plucked from the outskirts of the empire. You were a gift from Venus herself.

You should’ve been ashamed, mortified, trashing against him… under every opportunity you had. Yet there was no shame to be found in something that carried you so dangerously close to heaven. No guilt in the way your back arched, the way your body curved into him, silently begging for more. Your skin knew no hesitation, no hesitation at all. Not in this temple. Not in the sacredness of the moment.

He moved inside you like a slow-burning prayer, his thrusts deep and deliberate. Just enough to fill you, just enough to claim you without pain. His breath was ragged, strained, as he fought the instincts that begged him to ruin you. His hands, restless and greedy, traced your body relentlessly.

And when he spoke, his voice was nothing more than a hushed, broken confession. “You feel divine.”

“You’re mine,” he rasped, pathetically.

His hips faltered, momentarily losing control, and in his desperation, he drove himself deeper—sharp, bruising thrusts that tore a strangled cry from your throat. The sound, so raw and unbidden, made his cock twitch inside you, sent a shudder rippling down his spine.

Caracalla felt like he was slipping, spiraling, unraveling into something violent and insatiable. He wanted. And he would take.

The rhythm he set was slow but merciless, each thrust deliberate and punishing. Flesh met flesh in a sinful, wet sound that would haunt you long after your body was spent. His balls slapped against your slick center. He dropped his head near your shoulder, mouth grazing the sweat-damp skin, inhaling you.

“I should’ve taken you sooner,” he admitted, and there was something almost mournful in the way he said it. “I shouldn’t have waited.”

The thought of his brother’s voice, his warnings and his disapproval only fueled him further. The sacred place. The sacred women. And yet here you were, bent and broken against the pillar, moaning for the emperor’s cock. It was a desecration. And the Gods did nothing to stop it.

His fingers found your neck again, grazing at your jaw as he squeezed softly, just to get your attention, just for you to feel the weight of his desire. “You belong to me.”

A brutal thrust, deeper this time, made you gasp, your breath catching in short, ragged moans.

“You were always meant to be mine.”

The words ghosted over your skin, lingering, sinking into your very bones. And all around you, the temple remained still, silent.

The Gods were only witnesses.

His words wove themselves into your skin, into your very marrow, a curse. Each thrust was ruthless, driving you deeper against the pillar, your body trembling, breath spilling from your lips in sharp, uneven gasps. The wet, obscene sound of him inside you filled the temple, mingling with the lingering scent of burning incense, the smell of sweat and sex thick in the air.

In a moment of clearness you wanted to resist. You wanted to push him away, to tell him this was wrong, that the Gods would never forgive this. But you couldn’t. Your body betrayed you—hips rolling back against him, nails scraping against the cold marble as you arched, as you offered yourself to him. And it was long forgotten again.

A low, ragged groan tore from his throat as his fingers raked down your spine, pressing into the small of your back, forcing you to take him deeper, harder.

“My Vestal,” he rasped, his voice like gravel, thick with possession. “My sacred little thing.”

The words sank into your bones like poison. A violent shudder ripped through you, your walls tightening around him in response. Always belonging to something greater—a city, a people, a divine presence. To the Emperor.

Caracalla let out a sharp, guttural sound, his pace losing all restraint, turning erratic, frenzied. He wasn’t simply fucking you. He was branding you, consuming you, as though he could carve his name into your flesh, into your soul, until nothing remained of you but him.

His grip was merciless, bruising fingers dragging you onto him with thoughtless hunger, as if you were not a woman, not flesh and soul, but something crafted for him—his to desecrate, his to break. Everything he touched was bound to be annihilated. And now, so were you.

The pleasure was unbearable, searing through you like molten iron, scalding and consuming, turning you into something raw, something wild. It built deep within, unrelenting, teetering at the edge of violence—so intense it almost hurt.

Then his hand slid between your legs, fingertips brushing over your clit, teasing, pressing.

It was too much. A strangled cry ripped from your throat, your body recoiling, snapping forward as pleasure crashed through you like divine punishment. You clawed at the marble, at anything, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run from the overwhelming force tearing through you.

Your walls clenched around him, spasming in the throes of your release. A strangled moan broke from your lips—raw, wrecked, helpless. Your legs trembled, your body shuddering as ecstasy crashed over you in unrelenting waves, leaving you undone, ruined, and his.

Trapped between the pillar and his tiny body.

Caracalla groaned, his breath hot against your ear, his thrusts turning erratic as he felt you tightening around him, dragging him deeper into his own oblivion. His body seized, pleasure snapping through him like a lightning strike.

But he didn’t stop moving.

His hands crushed your waist, forcing you onto him as he buried himself to the hilt, the last shuddering thrust stealing his breath. His body trembled, taut with pleasure, and a choked, wrecked sound escaped his throat as he spilled inside you—hot, thick, branding you.

For a fleeting moment, there was only the sound of his ragged breaths against your cheek, the weight of his body pressing you into the marble, your own limbs still trembling from the aftershocks of what he had done to you.

His lips brushed your skin—not a kiss, but something reverent, something he believed was devotion.

Then, a sharp gasp shattered the silence.

Three Vestal Virgins, sisters in faith, the girls who had walked beside you through womanhood, through duty, through sanctity, stood close, eyes wide, faces pale, their hands trembling as if they had witnessed the fire of Vesta itself extinguish before their very eyes.

You pushed against Caracalla’s chest, your heart lurching in terror, in shame, in something close to grief. But he did not move. He did not release you.

Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head to look at them—his grip on your waist tightening possessively, his body still pressed flush against yours, the evidence of your ruin still wet between your thighs.

And he smiled. Not a smirk, not a sneer, but something horrible. Something knowing.

Because he knew what he was going to do to them.

They had seen too much.

And worse—they had looked at you as though you were defiled. As though you were disgusting. As though his holy gift had been anything but sacred. They would pay for that. He would make sure of it.

“Emperor—” You choked out, your voice barely more than a strangled breath as you shoved against his chest once more.

This time, he let you go.

The loss of his warmth should have felt like relief, but it was nothing of the sort. Cold horror settled into your bones, spreading through you like ink seeping into water. The weight of fate crashed upon you, cruel and suffocating. There was no undoing this. No running from it. By morning, you would be sentenced. By entombment, your life was already forfeit.

The realization struck like a blow, sending you stumbling toward them, the only ones who might understand, who might save you. But your feet tangled in the heavy folds of your robes, and you collapsed onto the marble with a sickening crack. The impact jarred through your knees, the cold stone biting into your flesh as you scrambled forward on trembling hands, crawling. The adrenaline of the situation soothed any pain you could’ve felt.

“Please,” you whispered, voice raw, desperate. “I didn’t… I could never… I—”

You couldn’t even form the words. You didn’t know what you were pleading for. Mercy? Silence? Forgiveness?

They stood unmoving. Their faces were pale, their expressions stricken, their hands clasped so tightly they trembled. They had always been your sisters, your kin, bound to you by sacred oaths. And yet, in that moment, they looked at you not with recognition, but with dread.

They knew what had happened. They knew what they had walked in on. But acknowledging it—bringing the truth into the open—was something else entirely.

To accuse you would be to condemn you. To accuse him would be to invite his wrath.

No one would believe them. No one would dare.

“Get up.” The words came sharp as a blade, slicing through the silence that had settled like a shroud.

You barely registered the voice at first, still kneeling on the cold marble, your limbs trembling, your mind struggling to stitch reality back together. But then a hand gripped your arm, yanking you upward with startling force.

“Go find some poor drunk man,” she commanded one of the other girls, voice low, desperate.

The weight of her meaning pressed against your ribs. A lie. A scapegoat. A way to twist the truth into something palatable for those who would judge. You opened your mouth to speak, to protest—to beg—but the words never came.

When you turned your head to search for him you found nothing. Caracalla was gone.

He had left as effortlessly as he had come, slipping into the night without a second glance. There was no hesitation in his escape. He had abandoned you in the wreckage of his sins.

Before you could move, the temple doors burst open.

His Imperial guards stormed in, the gleam of their armor flashing under the sacred fire’s glow. There were no accusations, no trial, no time to plead. The three women who had stood beside you for years, who had once sworn the same oaths, were seized with brutal efficiency. Hands wrenched behind their backs, prayers torn from their lips as they were dragged away.

You did nothing.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t fight. You didn’t so much as lift a finger as they were pulled from the temple and cast into the night.

THE NIGHT PASSED IN A BLUR.

You didn’t remember how you got back to your chambers. You didn’t remember if you had washed the sin from your skin, if you had tried to sleep, if you had prayed. Perhaps you had wandered the temple in a daze, or perhaps you had simply stood there, staring at the embers of the fire until the sky cracked open with the first light of dawn.

But morning came. And with it, judgment.

The remaining Vestals stood in silence at the edge of the dirt pit, their white robes ghostlike against the moist earth. Their faces were unreadable, their eyes avoiding yours.

You lifted your gaze.

Emperor Caracalla stood across from you, watching.

His face was unreadable, his sharp features betraying nothing. But it was his eyes that struck you the most—those cold, dull eyes, absent of guilt, absent of remorse.

And it was in that moment that you realized—you felt nothing either.

a/n: i thought about killing the reader but i chickened… thank you for reading and supporting akl my caracalla works 🫶🏼 ily babies.

[aethon-recs]

Honestly dont expect this to get a reply at all but I absolutely love your work and as a avid harrymort reader I was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics that you would classify as gut wrenching or have made you cry. Your list?recommendations? Are honestly my go to whenever I need a new fic and I wanted to thank you. I would have never have read Liquida Tenebris, Anabiosis, or Phobia without you and that’s just a crime. I look forward to your master list and hope the reading gods bless you by not discontinuing an ongoing fic of your’s.

Thank you so much, this note means so much to me 🤍 I'm so glad to hear that you found some beloved fics from these lists, tagging @dymis (Liquida Tenebris) @itsevanffs (Anabiosis) @katsitting (Phobia) so that they can see your kind words too.

In terms of your ask, yes of course, please see below for a list of angsty tearjerkers or fics that fucked me up. Hopefully there are a few on here that you haven't had the chance to read yet!

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Tomarrymort Angst Recs

Dripping Fingers by May_May_0_0 (T, 192k, complete)

When Harry finds Tom Riddle's diary he does not write 'Hello.' He does not write anything at all. He draws. Tom Riddle falls in love with the artwork. Sketch by sketch, drawing by drawing, the ink Harry pours into the diary manifests as creations in Tom's monochrome world.

Either must die at the hand of the other by @metalomagnetic (E, 260k, complete)

Voldemort survives the Battle of Hogwarts because Harry Potter had not been the one to kill him, as the prophecy demands.

Haunted and Hunted by @obsidianpen (E, 497k, complete)

After the incident at the Department of Mysteries, Lord Voldemort discovers that Harry Potter is his human horcrux. The course of the Second Wizarding War is forever altered.

Heartbeat by @phantomato (E, 24k, complete)

Harry, dumped into the past, communes with dangerous men.

Heartbeats by @cyandenial (T, 10k, complete)

Harry Potter, a medical student, volunteered to help in St Mungo's hospital for the summer, to gain extra credits and some practical experience. He was assigned to look over one old man, a task no one wanted, because Tom Riddle wasn’t making it easy for anyone. His horrible attitude brought about every nurse to tears, and Harry was determined not be among those who cried. To everyone's surprise, he managed somehow… Until he didn't.

(never) let me go by @perhaps-sunlight (M, 28k, complete)

When Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for eighth year, he meets a new classmate: Tom Riddle. For better or for worse, he's the only one who does.

seven by lilacscented (T, 7k, complete)

Harry meets Tom Riddle on the first day of school. He has just turned seven. “So you’re like me,” he says, a statement, not a question. “Meet me in the woods later this afternoon.”

Til Death Do Us Part by @duplicitywrites (M, 117k, complete)

When Harry becomes the Dark Lord’s prisoner, his only solace is in the fact that his eventual death will set Wizarding Britain free.

The Orphaned King by @silenceinwinter2019 (E, 134k, complete)

In an AU where Voldemort wins, Harry starts his seventh year. They had a new defense professor, who moved with precision and power and spoke as if he was used to people hanging onto his every word. He called himself Marvolo Gaunt.

We Still Have Time by @duplicitywrites (T, 9k, complete)

On Samhain, the veil between the physical and spiritual world weakens enough for the living to speak with the dead for a brief period of time. Tom and Harry are graced with twenty-four hours together before one of them must return to the other side, only— Which one of them is it?

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