#i love them so much. punching the ground.

[corkinavoid]

For @pinklotushere, to 'Die With a Smile' by Lady GaGa and Bruno Mars,

DPxDC Before Tomorrow

"I didn't know where else to go."

Danny looks up at the vigilante who is standing on the edge of the roof just a few feet away from him. He watches him fidget and roll his shoulders uncomfortably, then reach up and peel his domino mask off. He won't meet Danny's eyes, he notices absentmindedly.

"Your family, maybe?" He offers, and Tim's shoulders slump in relief.

They hadn't spoken to each other since that very heated discussion over a week ago. Okay, some might have even called it a fight, what with all the yelling, but hey, no one threw punches, so it was still pretty civil in Danny's book.

"They are still running around trying to stop it," Tim shrugs, the line of tension in his shoulders still barely there. Ah, the sole reason that discussion got so heated in the first place. The burden of heroism. Fighting till the very end, even if there's nothing you can do.

Danny turns away, his gaze firmly back on the pink, barely there line at the slowly brightening horizon - the only sign that the sunrise is almost here.

"And you're not?" He asks, not looking at Tim and trying to make the question sound easy and lighthearted. Like it's just another one of their long night talks, one that you can never remember in the morning because you didn't really talk about something in particular, you just talked.

There's a sound of footsteps coming closer, then a ruffle of Tim's cape behind his back, and a faint warmth of his shoulder brushing against Danny's. He sits down just beside, dangling his feet over the edge of the roof. Over the emptiness that is sixty stores between them and the ground.

"No," Tim shrugs, his eyes also on the brink of dawn, slowly creeping through the jagged skyline of Gotham. "I thought, hey, you know, if the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you," he says with a short laugh. Danny can't figure out if it's hysterical or just relieved. Maybe it's both.

"Like the song?" He asks, a smile tugging on his lips, "If the party was over, and our time on Earth was through?" He recites, turning to look at Tim.

He looks pretty - well, his boyfriend always looks pretty, that's not new - but this time, Danny looks closer, almost studying his face with a rapt attention of a scientist. Trying to engrave them in his memory: the line of his nose and the faint light of the not-yet-here sun, the chapped lips and the calm, almost serene blue in his eyes.

"Yeah, like the song," Tim chuckles and turns to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time since he appeared on the roof. "I'd wanna hold you just for a while," he murmurs, something soft in his voice, and Tim is not a great singer, but Danny loves him anyway. He loves everything about Tim. Including his stubborn decision to keep trying to do something, keep fighting when there's no way out, keep clawing his way through the ruthless circumstances that leave him no choice.

He doesn't finish the verse, and Danny gives him a crooked smile, doing it for him, "And die with a smile."

Tim's face doesn't change. He is still smiling, looking at Danny with a fondness he only likes to show behind the closed doors, and, with a short pang at his core, Danny realizes: He's dealt with it.

He's dealt with the unbending storm inside of him that pushed him to fight despite the consequences, he's came to terms with the promise of impending doom.

And he came here to sit beside Danny, dangling their feet over the edge of a skyscraper, and watch the last sunrise.

Danny feels so much love for his boyfriend that it almost hurts, his core thrumming in his chest, threatening to spill out.

The first rays of sunshine color Tim's cheek with gold, and Danny leans forward.

Tim's eyes flutter closed, but Danny doesn't kiss him, like he probably expected - and, in all fairness, like he probably should have. Instead, he only brushes his lips over the boy's cheek and leans closer to his ear.

There are thousands of things he can say, starting with the simple 'I love you' and all the way to 'I won't let you die, smile or not'.

But the one thing he says, a cheeky grin on his face, is,

"I lied. There is a way."

He did not, there isn't, but Tim takes a sharp breath in and grips his shoulder so tight it hurts, and Danny knows he will find it even if the better timeline will never come.

~•~•~•~

That song is a waltz, and waltzes always make me feel like writing heart-wrenching love stories, I'm sorry. No, I'm not, I lied.

The pure fucking devotion, people. Tim, who is okay with giving up just to spend the last minutes with Danny and Danny, who is okay with ruining the world just so he can make Tim happy. I'm in love with them.

[Also, my initial idea was to write a DarkHumor (Dick/Dan) spicy piece for this, but then Dead Tired took over my brain and ate it whole, so here we are]

[lechrts]

Hiii, can you do a angsty franco drabble if you haven't already ❤️

Worldwide. ✷ Franco Colapinto

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x reader

Summary: When you and him say your final goodbyes.

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer/s: angst,,,,, i fear…… I….

Vera’s Voice! i think this came out alright… kinda boof ngl…. i’m So iffy when writing angst because i cant. HOPE I DID U JUSTICE THO!!! thank u for requesting ^_^

The airport was a blur of noise and movement, the hum of conversations blending with the echoes of overhead announcements.

But in that moment, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. The world was moving around you, but you were frozen in place, standing in front of Franco with a heart that felt like it was being torn in two.

“You didn’t have to walk me in,” You said softly, trying to sound casual, but your voice wavered at the end.

“I wanted to,” Franco replied, his voice low and thick with something you couldn’t quite name. He shifted your duffel bag from one shoulder to the other, his hands restless, unsure of what to do with them.

It was as though every movement was an attempt to keep himself grounded, to stop from falling apart.

You had known this day would come.

You had known that the distance, the different directions your lives were headed in, would pull you apart eventually.

But even so, the reality of it—the fact that this was really happening—still felt like a punch to the gut.

You both walked in silence, past the shops and through the busy crowds, heading toward the international line for the security checkpoint.

There was so much to say, but the words got stuck in your throat. Every time you opened your mouth, it felt like you were going to break.

“I’m really gonna miss you,” Franco finally said, his voice soft, like he was trying to keep the sorrow hidden.

The words hit you harder than you expected. You had tried so hard to prepare for this moment, but nothing could have prepared you for the sting of hearing him say it.

“I’m gonna miss you too,” You managed to whisper, your heart aching as you forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He looked at you, his gaze full of unspoken emotion, and it nearly broke you.

Franco was always the one with the answers, the one who knew how to navigate the chaos of the world.

But right now, you could see the uncertainty in his eyes—the same uncertainty you felt swirling in your chest.

“I don’t want this to be the end,” He said, his voice rough. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Your chest tightened, the words he spoke pulling at something deep inside you. “You’re not losing me,” you whispered. “We’re just… we’re just in different places. Our lives are going in different directions, and we can’t keep pretending they’re not.”

The truth hung in the air, heavy and painful, like a weight that neither of you could escape.

Franco stopped walking, his eyes searching yours for something, anything that could change the situation. “I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But it’s hard. So hard to let go of you.”

Your throat closed up, and you forced yourself to swallow past the lump. “I know,” You repeated, your voice barely a whisper. “It’s hard for me too.”

But you knew deep down that this was the right choice, even though every part of you wanted to deny it.

The love between you was undeniable, it had always been there, but it wasn’t enough anymore. The timing was wrong.

The distance—both physical and emotional—was too much to overcome.

“I can’t ask you to wait for me,” He said quietly, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment.

“But I will.” You said quickly, stepping closer to him. You reached out, brushing your fingers over his arm. “This was never about you holding me back. You’ve always supported me, even when it was hard.”

“But it’s not fair,” He said, his voice thick with emotion. “You deserve someone who can be there for you all the time, not just when I have a few days off. You deserve someone who doesn’t disappear for months at a time.”

The lump in your throat grew, threatening to swallow you whole. “And you deserve someone who won’t make you feel guilty for chasing your dreams, Franco. You’re doing something amazing with your life.”

He reached for your hand then, his fingers brushing against yours, as if he was trying to hold on to you, to something that felt real before it slipped through his fingers.

He stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands, his thumb brushing away a tear.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t a desperate kiss, or a goodbye full of false promises.

It was soft, slow, and devastating.

It was filled with every ounce of love you still had for each other, with all the things you wished you could have said but didn’t have the words for.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours for a moment, his breathing uneven. “You’ll always mean everything to me,” He whispered.

You nodded, your hands clinging to his jacket as if letting go would make it all too real. “And you to me.”

He stepped back then, his hands slipping out of yours, and the absence of his touch felt like a piece of you had been torn away.

“So, this is it?” You ask. Tears welling in your eyes as he handed over your bag.

“This is it.” His voice confirmed although it sounded like he didn’t want to say it. His eyes were glued to you before he glanced up and gazed at the security line awaiting you.

“You should go.” He finally said. The tears in his eyes now falling.

“Yeah.” You nod, your lips trembling.

“I love you,” He whispered, the words so quiet, so raw, they felt like they were tearing him apart.

“I love you too,” You said, tears finally slipping from your eyes. It was a confession you’d known for so long, a truth you had carried with you through everything.

And with those words, he nodded and briefly smiled to himself before he looked at you again and watched you walk off.

Your figure grew smaller with every step.

He stayed rooted to his spot, your hands gripping your bag, as if that could somehow hold you together.

When you reached the line, you glanced back one last time. His eyes met yours across the distance, and even from afar, you could see the tears glistening in them.

And then he turned.

You knew this was the right decision, the logical choice.

But logic didn’t make it hurt any less.

Loving him had been the greatest thing you’d ever known.

Letting him go was the hardest.

And as you walked toward your gate, alone, the only thing you could do was hope that someday, somehow, your paths would cross again.

But that was sadly, not aligned for the foreseeable future.

likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated! ^_^ and just lmk if you wanna be apart of my permanent tag list!!!

tags! @planetpedri @halfwayhearted @wdcbox @freyathehuntress @iovepoem @piastri-vfx

[abusivelittlebunny]

wonder if u’ve seen this…would love to hear ur thoughts 😇

Explicit fic below (warning for dubcon & bdsm & daddy kink)

"Get in the car, now." Carlos' harsh whisper against his neck punched all the sanity out of Charles' mind in an instant. The command left no room for argument, nor did the grip on his hair at the base of his skull, already guiding Charles manually towards the exit. Charles would've stumbled to the ground multiple times if not for Carlos' hands, firm and steady and unforgiving to any mistakes now.

It always made him go boneless how easy it was for Carlos to manhandle him around, how he used his superior strength to show just who was really in charge between them.

"I let him go first like I'm holding the door open for a lady," Carlos once joked to an interviewer who asked him how come he's such a supportive second driver when he has proven he drives just as good if not better than Charles. "I'm a gentleman."

But there was nothing gentlemanly about how Carlos ripped the car door open and tossed Charles into the passenger seat, with a force that almost made Charles hit the window on the opposite side. Carlos didn't take any pity on Charles' pained yelp, just slammed the door behind him with much more strength than needed, the entire frame of the car shaking with it.

Charles was in big trouble now, he knew. Usually Carlos plays it sweet and harmless when there were paparazzi around them, but after tonight he can't keep the gentleman's facade any longer, to hell with the cameras.

What excuse would he take into consideration now? Was there anything Charles could say that would keep Carlos at bay? No simple "I'm sorry" will solve this, he knew much better than that. He was absolutely furious.

Charles didn't realize he was shaking until the door on the driver's side was torn open, and his entire body froze. He didn't see Carlos take his belt off and out of the loops of his neatly pressed trousers, so seeing it gripped firmly in his hand as he got in the car made Charles' stomach drop.

His heart was pounding in his ears as Carlos started the car without a word, driving through the gate of the villa much faster than necessary, but he didn't seem to care, all too focused on getting Charles and himself alone.

Charles was feeling dizzy, not just from the toss, but also just from the raw emotional rollercoaster he went through, and with no doubt the punishment looming in the air, ready to drop at any minute. He stared at the belt; folded, gripped together with the steering wheel by Carlos' big hairy hand. The veins on the back of his hand seemed more prominent now.

"It wasn't-, Carlos, please, it wasn't what it looked like, I swear-," Charles stammered, wincing at the squeaky quality of his own voice, betraying how he felt like a mouse caught in a merciless trap. "I didn't even know the man,-"

"Clearly you don't need to." Carlos snorted coldly as he took a sharp turn, avoiding the main road, no patience for traffic right now. "You'd take any dick that poked at you without even a second thought. Anything to prove what a good boy you are, right?"

That hurt too much for Charles not to speak up. "You know I'm not like that. You know,- you know better than anybody."

"Do I?" Carlos' amused tilt to his voice mocked him to his very core. "I remember you being a touch too eager every time you got to hop on another dick. Particularly when it comes to the celebratory gangbangs, you just become a brainless little cumdump."

"Because you asked those of me!" Charles knew he shouldn't be raising his voice right now but Carlos was just plain unfair now. "I only did that because you told me to, and would have never let anybody fuck me if it wasn't for your amusement! I-, you know I gave you everything. My virginity, my future,-" Charles held tightly onto the engagement ring on his finger, always quick to put it back on after a race, wanting to feel Carlos close at all times.

"Are you complaining about it?" Carlos' grip audibly tightened on the belt and wheel.

"What? No, no, of course not. I love you, mon amour. You and only you. You own me entirely, no one else can have me except for you." Tears have been welling in Charles' eyes since he first felt Carlos' threatening grip on him, - yanking him out of the study he found Charles in, - but they now finally spilled over as he shakily asked. "But you can't say the same thing, can you?"

Carlos grinded his teeth together, sighing loudly. Denying it would be futile, they both knew.

"I know about Lando. How you still-, you still fuck him when I'm not around. And not just him. He told me what a joke I am; "the devoted little lovesick wannabe-wife to a man who can't keep his dick out of half the grid," that's what he said."

"He's just saying that to rile you up, you can't take that puta seriously-," Carlos started, even though from his quick dismissal it was obvious Lando was far from lying.

"What about Franco?" Charles actually snarled as he said his name; he had nothing but venom for that homewrecking tart. "He told me how Williams won you over with him. How you got to... take him on a test ride to make sure you got a good deal. The car might be shit but the boy that came with it was worth it, huh? He said you found him better than me. Younger, prettier, tighter, and fully in your service."

"And you believe him?" Carlos scoffed, eyes were fixed on the road since the beginning, not sparing a single glance to Charles since he dragged him away from the gala. Meanwhile Charles could only look at him, entire body turned in his seat so he could stare up at Carlos like a pitiful puppy.

"I didn't at first but then he-, he started sending me things. Pictures and videos of you with him. Some when you're asleep, with your hands around that- that boy. Both of you naked if he's not in your shirt." Charles bit his lip, watching Carlos' eyes darken further and his Adam's apple bob in rage. "And even some where you're fucking him. Heard you like it when he calls you Papi."

"That's not-, that fucking-" Carlos almost barked, absolutely livid as he got into a traffic jam despite his best efforts to cruise through the city at a breakneck pace. He hit the steering wheel and cursed a bountiful bouquet in Spanish, half of which Charles understood, thanks to how much he tried to adapt to his husband. He was cursing Franco, saying something about wringing that stupid little slut's neck.

"It's over, Carlos." Charles shook his head solemnly, finally turning to face the road ahead, red lights criss-crossing in his vision, blurred by the tears.

Funny how Carlos could only look at him now, once Charles was faced away, unable to meet his eyes.

Charles gave a chuckle that was more of a sob than anything. "I tried to tolerate it, turn a blind eye to how you treated me, treated us, our relationship, thinking if I keep being nice, do as you say, be a good boy, maybe you'll finally choose me." Charles wiped at his eyes, sniffling. Turning the ring on his finger over and over again.

Carlos proposed shortly after Lewis announced he was coming to Ferrari. It terrified them both, knowing what it meant. They could keep their secret romance as steady as they wanted but not sharing a team, not sharing a garage, put them in a difficult position. They wouldn't be able to see each other as easily in private as before once the new season starts. They'll officially have to be rivals unlike ever before.

There was no room for a Romeo and Juliette romance when it came to the grid.

But Carlos said fuck them, he doesn't want to end it, no matter what anyone says; he loved Charles as Charles loved him, or so he said when he got down on one knee and presented him with the ring. Pure gold with a gorgeous red ruby sitting in a bed of crystal clear diamonds.

They were to marry in December. End of the year. But start of a new chapter. A confirmation that Charles meant more to Carlos than all the boys he had before. That he saw their future together.

He was meant to end his little fooling around with those other boys on and off the grid long ago; he said he would be all his once the wedding is done. They'd become official.

"But if you wanted to choose me, you would have by now. I'm not going to waste any more of either of our time. I'm tired of being nice, letting you have whatever you want at any time. It keeps biting me in the ass. "

"Charles, don't start now. Listen to me-," Carlos dropped the belt in his lap and tried to touch Charles' face only for it to be slapped away. Carlos froze, caught off guard by the retaliation.

"I think we should break up."

The silence that followed echoed within the car and it felt like time stood still like a moment before a life changing tragedy struck. The deafening void of a horrid crash if their worlds. Worse than any accident either of them got into on the grid. Charles could only hear his own blood pumping in his veins, his thick swallow; not a single sound coming out of Carlos. It took all his power to turn around and meet his gaze.

People often joked about how when Carlos is hyper focused his big beautiful brown eyes get a sort of manic, madman quality to them, the facade peeling back a bit. If before that gaze seemed intimidating, now it was downright terrifying. Carlos looked insane, like he could rip Charles' heart out with his teeth within a second. Bathed in the red lights, his face chilled Charles to the bone.

And he knew.

That was the match that lit the dynamite.

Charles whipped around to reach for the car door but his yanking proved futile, Carlos pressing the lock the moment he made a move. Before he could even think about turning around, the belt was thrown over his neck, and Carlos pulled.

Carlos has choked him before, quite a few times actually, but never this hard, and Charles clawed at the leather strip around his throat, head thrown back to Carlos' shoulder and kept there by his other hand gripping his jaw.

"Cah-, Carlo-, Ch-," Charles coughed and whined and scratched and kicked, body trashing weakly as he struggled for breath. He scratched at his own throat and at Carlos' hands, choking on a sob when Carlos snarled against his temple.

"Easy there, easy, calm down Charles, calm down." As if he was trying to soothe a jittery horse, not choking his fiance to near blacking out; he only eased on the belt's tightness when Charles' movements started to subside, his vision plagued with black spots.

The minute his throat got the space needed to fill his lungs again, Charles violently started coughing, tears, sweat, and saliva freely flowing down his red hot face. He was a right fucking mess, croaking and whining, trying to rub at his sore neck as he collapsed against Carlos' solid frame.

That will definitely be leaving a mark he won't be able to hide, too above the line of his collar.

"That's it, good boy, good boy, easy there, I got you, I got you." Carlos breathed roughly into his hair, more of a threat than a comfort, while kissing the side of his face, wherever he could. He did not mind the wet mess, tilting Charles' head by the jaw to press their lips together even as Charles was still fighting for breath, panting into his mouth. "You didn't mean that, no, no you didn't. You're my good boy, and you will be my good little wife, mine, mine, all mine. I got you."

"Cah-,Carlo-," Charles was dizzy still, eyes unable to focus on his fiance's face or actions, only vaguely registering his kisses before he collapsed fully into Carlos' lap. His head would've hit the strong thighs beneath him hard if not for the belt tightening on his throat instantly, softening the impact but at the same time taking Charles' breath once more.

"I know you didn't mean what you said, cariño, but still, you have to watch your pretty mouth more or you'll make daddy angry." Carlos tutted at his open mouth gaping and his fingers weakly trying to pry some space between his neck and makeshift collar. "You need to learn some discipline, cariño. Always so bratty, you keep getting into trouble for it. You won't say something so silly again, will you? No, you're going to be my good little wife aren't you? You'd never leave me, right?"

Charles' feet kicked at the passenger window, and he could barely make out the older man's words over his own choking noises but he managed to nod weakly, eyes rolled back into his skull and completely blurred from tears. Carlos took a torturous second to ease up on the strangulation once more when he deemed his answer satisfactory.

Charles turned his face to the side to suck in some air and not choke even more on his own saliva as he coughed. He whimpered like a kicked puppy, felt like one too, not even noticing how he buried his face into Carlos' tummy to muffle his pitiful sobs until he felt a gentle hand pet through his hair, Carlos cooing above him adoringly.

"There we go, there, that's my good little wife, so good for me." Carlos smoothed the messy brown curls out of Charles' eyes, humming at the puddle of drool and tears Charles was making on his lap. He unbuttoned his trousers and pulled the zipper down like a threat. "Let's put that unruly mouth of yours to better use, baby."

"Carlo-," Charles started to whine but got caught off by the belt again. It never left his neck and Carlos made sure Charles remembered that.

"Show me you're my good boy, cariño. Or daddy will have to give you a tighter leash." As if to confirm, the light illuminating Carlos' face turned blue-green from the traffic light. Carlos loosened the belt around his throat again, but didn't let go of it; Charles was able to feel it move together with his steering as he began to drive.

Charles reached for his zipper with a trembling hand and pulled it aside to press apologetic wet kisses to the bulge lying beneath the dark cotton underwear. He was already half hard; seeing Charles in pain always turned him on but the aspect of a breakup probably kept him from fully enjoying the situation.

Charles sniffled as he pulled the gorgeous thick cock out of his confines and kissed along the length. His hot breath and gentle, worshipping touches had Carlos' member stiffen to its full size fast enough.

He remembered how much practice it took as a virgin to learn how to properly serve Carlos; he had his work cut out for him, Carlos was very polite at first about his clumsy, sloppy efforts, but he was used to Max's incredible deepthroating technique and Lando's eager efforts and wouldn't come as easily as Charles would have hoped for. And he had no chance of tapping out either, no matter how much his jaw would ache for the week that followed, Carlos wasn't the type to let him leave the job half finished.

But once he got the hang of it he kept on practicing, fueled by the urge to beat Max in this area at least; he wanted to be the best Carlos has ever had. Max might have had his gag reflex annihilated at an early age, but Charles was far more passionate when it came to blowjobs and knew worshipping a dick was far hotter than just getting it off as efficiently as possible; or at least that's what Carlos reassured him about.

Charles now breathed out a shaky moan as he took Carlos down deeper and deeper at every drag, slurping on it as he came up, not letting a single drop of precum go to waste and dove right down when he felt a hand on the back of his neck.

"Good job, so good for me, cariño, fuck-," Carlos let out a satisfied sigh, his short nails scratching Charles' scalp appreciatively. "Daddy loves your clever little mouth so much, sweetie."

Charles preened from the praise, doubling his efforts even with tears still dropping from his lashes at every bump the car drove over. His throat hurt with every move of his tongue, every swallow, but that didn't stop him from going down until it slipped past the gag reflex point and his lips kissed the base. Charles sighed out a trembling breath through his nose, face buried in the musky pubic hair. It felt so good down there. Carlos knew he liked it deep too, like the thick familiar length was hitting a hidden sweet spot in the back of his throat.

"You love it so much, don't you?" Carlos slapped his cheek softly, leather wrapped around his palm still. "Charlie baby, the golden-mouthed prince of Monaco. Fucking fantastic, sweetheart. How could I want anyone but you, honey?"

Charles whined, fingers curled around Carlos' suit and thigh in ecstasy and he gulped around his cock, saliva overflowing in his wanton mouth.

Whether it was intentional or not, Charles had to refrain from basking in victory shortly after as Carlos hit the brakes a bit too hard.

Usually he'd pride himself in being trained better, but because of the ache from the choking, the pain made him instinctively gag and he was pulled off by his makeshift collar before he could choke too hard or give more than a hint of teeth.

"Messy puppy." Carlos hissed as he watched Charles cough, and try to catch his breath. "And here you were doing such a masterclass in cock-sucking. Don't you want to show them how good you are for me?"

Charles could only whimper out a dumb sound in answer inbetween coughs, his fucked plump lips unable to form a coherent word, letting drool flow past them uselessly. He didn't understand exactly what Carlos meant until he tugged a bit on the belt around his throat again, making him look up and out the window on the driver's side.

They were being watched by a few men in the car standing still in line right next to them. Carlos had a very big cock, they must have seen his mop of brown curls go up and down in Carlos' lap as he took him down his throat and came back up to suck on the tip.

They were hooting and hollering in amusement, the guy on the passenger side had his phone out to take pictures or a video even, the ones at the back scrambling to do the same.

This was going to be all over social media in a matter of minutes. Charles Leclerc, with his fucked-flushed face drooling helplessly on full display, a belt around his throat giving roadhead to his soon to be ex-teammate like a two penny whore.

"C'mon, cariño, you don't want to disappoint your fans, do you?" Carlos chuckled into his ear and tugged lightly on the belt, making tears well in Charles' eyes again from the humiliation. Carlos kissed at his temple and pet his hair in a condescending manner. "Show them who's my little champion, hm?"

Charles was frozen for a second, all thoughts completely evaporating from his head before he turned to Carlos.

Was this revenge? Ruining his reputation for finding him with another man in a peculiar position? After all that Charles has swallowed for him over and over again?

Not today.

Charles swallowed thickly against his makeshift collar and made his move. He turned to kiss Carlos in a chaste manner, hand cupping his strong jaw tenderly so he couldn't pull away. He could see the camera flash even with his eyes closed, and he knew it bounced back on the engagement ring like the sun.

Carlos was first caught off guard but kissed back with more passion out of reflex, fingers tightening in Charles' hair, the simple golden ring Charles has put on him after the proposal as a promise on display for all to see.

"I am your little champion." Charles breathed with a weak voice but a triumphant smile as he pulled back, lashes fluttering in delight as he saw the realization dawn on Carlos' face.

Charles very quickly changed the headlines from deranged slut Leclerc blowing ex-teammate Sainz in his car to try to keep him loyal to secretly engaged and hopelessly in love Leclerc and Sainz seen sharing a tender moment in car after gala. Charles even made a show of holding his hand up with a big smile for the camera as if the engagement just happened.

Carlos couldn't have stepped on the gas pedal harder as the traffic light turned green and Charles giggled as they sped past the neighboring cars.

"Honey, you're going to get us pulled over-," Charles drawled before he got his face shoved back down into Carlos' lap by a merciless grip in his hair.

"You only worry your pretty head about making me come in your sweet little mouth, baby." Carlos snorted spitefully. "Maybe I'll go easier on you then once we're back home."

"Didn't I do as you asked me to, daddy?" Charles licked playfully at Carlos' erection and got choked again for it. But by now the burn of the belt diminished next to the satisfaction in the forefront of his mind.

"Oh, that you did, darling. That you fucking did."

Carlos did not go easier on Charles even when he made him come down his choked-tight throat three minutes before they arrived back to their home. He made sure to decorate not only Charles's throat but his back, his ass, and his thighs as well in quickly purpling bruises from the belt all through the night and into the morning.

Charles woke in the afternoon sorer than he has been in a very long time, pained winces leaving his chapped lips as he tried to heave himself up in a somewhat propped-up position to gulp down the still-warm cappuccino on the bedside table.

A plentiful bowl of creamy peanut butter porridge topped with uniformly cut bananas and a dusting of roasted nuts sat beside his mug, right next to a jar of honey and a jug of water. On the other side of the bed the healing balm, the Vaseline, the sore-throat drops already prepared.

One could call Carlos a particularly vicious dom, but he never skimmed out on the aftercare; he knew what his boy needed after what he put him through.

Charles smiled to himself and kissed his engagement ring.

He was doubtful about this plan at the start but reading the headlines of the news on his phone while he munched away on his oatmeal put his mind to ease.

CARLOS SAINZ PROPOSED TO CHARLES LECLERC AFTER POST-CHAMPIONSHIP CELEBRATIONS AT MONACO ROYAL ESTATE

WILL THE LOVELY COUPLE BE SPARED BY THEIR TEAMS DECISIONS? DID SAINZ GET BOOTED FOR HAVING SECRET RELATIONSHIP WITH LECLERC? FERRARI UNDER INVESTIGATION

DID LEWIS HAMILTON TRY TO BREAK UP THE COUPLE? WILL HE BE FORCED BACK TO MERCEDES?

SAINZ SEEN TRYING TO BE SEDUCED BY WILLIAMS' ROOKIE FRANCO COLAPINTO! WANNABE HOMEWRECKER ALERT!

"We couldn't be happier, honestly," SAINZ REPORTEDLY ANSWERED QUESTIONS THIS MORNING WHILE OUT ON ERRANDS. IS HE HURRYING TO WILLIAMS HEADQUARTERS OR TRYING TO FIND WEDDING VENUES?

SAINZ DENIES ALLEGATIONS OF AFFAIR WITH LANDO NORRIS, FRANCO COLAPINTO, OSCAR PIASTRI, AMONGST MANY OTHERS.

"I have loved Charles since the moment I met him, I just wasn't allowed to come clean about it in public because of our management. Now we're hoping this will change and give us the opportunity for a future we both hoped for." Carlos chuckled in a video taken only two hours before Charles woke up. He was surrounded by paparazzi like a bleeding man in a pool of sharks.

"Fans are incredibly supportive of your relationship, but will it last the test of time now that you're in separate teams? Or will you be breaking the heart of Ferrari's favorite prince?"

Carlos smiled nervously and nodded to himself before making the crowd around him shake with laughter by declaring: "Absolutely not. I know I wouldn't survive if I ever dared to. I will be a good husband for him regardless of our contracts, you will see."

"What about allegations that you were choking him with your belt?" Another reporter piped up. "Is it true Charles has suffered domestic abuse from you in the past?"

"Those are all made up, I can assure you, I'd never lay a finger on Charles," Carlos winked cheekily at the camera, "not in a way he didn't like, that's for sure."

Charles rolled his eyes with a snort as he kept on reading the news regarding their engagement. No one gave a fuck about who won the championship at that point, all eyes in motorsports and out of it turned towards the ring on Charles' finger.

He owed Max now for giving him this brilliant idea and snatching the limelight from him.

"What if he calls off the engagement?" Charles sobbed on Max's couch a couple weeks ago, hugging a pillow tight to his chest that Max eyed like he wanted to burn as soon as Charles let go of it. He probably wanted to burn the whole couch the way Charles littered it with dirty tissues since he began his dramatic breakdown that evening.

"Then you're better off, honestly." Max rolled his eyes and scooped another spoonful of ice cream in his mouth; the price Charles bribed him with to hear him out on his latest Carlos issue.

"No, he'll be better off with that stupid fucking whore!" Charles wiped at his eyes and threw his phone across the room onto the bed. He was in full tantrum mode at that point. "That fucking slut couldn't wait to get his hands on my Carlos, if he had his ring too I'd tear his fucking face off-"

"You can't even breathe an impolite word to that child, let alone do that. Besides, don't think a pretty pair of green eyes is all it takes for Carlos to pop the question." Max really was the best friend to have around in these dire times for Charles. He has always been a no-nonsense type of advice giver and now as he was heavily pregnant he cared even less for pointless melodrama.

Besides, he knew Carlos better than anyone, even better than Charles. Their history ran bone-deep. That's why he wasn't out to snatch Carlos away probably.

"I can't let him choose that bitch. I can't-, I-," Charles gasped for words, too far in crying to make a coherent sentence so Max waved his spoon like a conductor as if he tried to put a spell on Charles to make him calm down.

"Charles, we talked about this before, first with me, then Lando, then Piastri, then Liam, and so on it goes; you know this won't end by itself. It's not a question about who he will choose. He can't choose, that's his issue. He will keep sticking his dick wherever the wind blows." Max grimaced as he thought about something for a second before burying it in another caramel-fudge spoonful. "I even heard he took George to bed but I'm sincerely hoping his taste didn't stoop so low."

"Are you trying to make me feel better with this?" Charles glared above his tissue.

"I'm trying to make you realize that you gotta rethink your strategy here, because for a lack of better word, it's very Ferrari." Max raised his brows comically and shrugged. "Doesn't really work, does it?"

Charles wanted to object but Max was right; Charles has been bending over backwards to try to please Carlos for a while now, did everything the way he told him and Carlos still slipped out on occasion to "let out his pent up frustrations" on some other boy.

Most of them were more discreet about it, like Piastri, desperate to stay on Charles' good side even with his man's come not yet dry at the corner of his mouth. Or there was Liam, outright avoiding him with a flushed red face after stumbling out on unsteady feet after Carlos pulled him into the closest lockable room. Or there was Lando, taunting Charles with threats of Carlos seeing reason and coming back to him to resume the fairytale relationship he believed they had.

And there was fucking Franco sending him a picture of Carlos sleeping on his chest, arms wrapped around his scandalously tiny waist. The caption, placed right below where Franco had his cheek resting against Carlos' messed up hair read:

"Papi got a bit too excited for my blue panties tonight. He must be a bull that prefers blue over red. Don't wait up for him tonight."

Just the fucking cheek of it all made the hair on the back of Charles' neck stick up.

"He has done enough to drive you mad with jealousy, now it's your turn." Max pointed at him wisely with his spoon. "You just get him to catch you with some other guy and boom. His focus will be very much back on you."

"But what if that just makes him discard me completely?" Charles huffed. "Being one of his... his boys I can deal with, but him dropping me for cheating I could never-,"

"Oh, that is the polar opposite of what will happen, trust me." Max chuckled knowingly. "When he first caught me with another man I couldn't scrape him off of me for months. And that was after I already told him I couldn't do anything serious because my father wouldn't let me. He said he was cool with it, he had plenty of options lined up. But those options seemed far less exciting when something he thought belonged to him was getting fucked by another man."

"You... think that would work with me too?" Charles mumbled after a minute, seriously thinking it through.

Max shrugged, not keen on taking responsibility over Charles' fate and risking another hysteric yap session. "I think he's far more into you than anyone I've ever seen him with, truly. I was tempting to him for being Redbull's miraclebaby but you're different. You're Ferrari's golden boy, Charles, you're special or whatever. You're a gem any man would die to have as his crown jewel. You should live with that privilege. Remind him you are the hottest commodity out there."

So Charles did; finding a sponsor who was eager to try to get him alone in a study at the villa was easy enough, playing coy until he had the man grinding against his ass and hurrying to take his clothes off was simple.

He was thinking stretching it out perfectly so Carlos found him while the man was still hard inside of him would be the challenge because he seemed like a two minute wonder but he misjudged Carlos' attention on him. Charles could barely breathe the first moan as the man pulled his shirt open and kissed at his neck and Carlos was busting down the door, not waiting a second more to drag him out like an unruly puppy.

Max warned him of the painful consequences, but they would all be worth it in the end. Carlos couldn't possibly break up their engagement now, not with the media pressure, and this little stunt had Charles back in his sole focus for good. He couldn't visit his boys under such scrutiny or hurt him too much, or his reputation would go down the gutter.

Charles caressed at the painful bruise on his throat and giggled to himself.

Who had the leash on who now?

[ryescapades]

hii rye!! happi 1k follows, for the event, can i have prompt 10 (lyhfmb) with a jealous! nrm gen please!! nsfw ofc!!! luv ya soo much <3

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 10 - “lift your hips for me, love.” characters: ex!narumi gen (kn8) x afab!reader contents: nsfw mdni !! oral (f! receiving), marking, slight possessive + jealous!nrm, sparring as an euphemism, possibly exes to lovers, implied nrm having past hookups, tiny bit of angst if u squint, ooc i think? somehow ended up being a bit of a character study.. wc ~ 900

a/n: thank you for participating anon !! <3 i’m kinda killing two birds with one stone here bcs there’s an old req in my inbox asking for a nsfw nrm piece (supposedly) inspired by lana’s serene queen :’>

you have absolutely zero idea how you got yourself in this situation.

it was a normal day for you; you woke up, did your morning routine, checked in with your fellow coworkers and spent a whole lot of your time on the training grounds, especially with your closest friends, shinonome and tachibana. everything would’ve been perfectly and routinely mundane, if not for the sudden private invitation to spar, ordered requested by your very own division captain.

the way those roguish hues darken at the sight of you straddling tachibana’s hips during training, the deep frown on his lips, the clear displeasure marring on his face, the scrutinising stare he sent towards his platoon leader… for a second there you would’ve thought that he— you shake your head to disperse the thoughts away.

no way in hell, right?

it feels weird. doing a one-on-one with captain narumi without other people watching really gives you the ick, an irksome itch that you couldn’t quite scratch away. you know full well that you could pack a punch or two, know that your skills are just as good as any officer from the first division, but you are also aware that narumi gen is not just any man.

he’s a man who was born with such exceptional strength and yet had his childhood ripped to shreds by those monstrous kaiju, a man who would occasionally lash out if something ever triggers the fragility of his inner child, a man who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders, a man who was still on pins and needles when it came to affection, a man who is also your ex lover.

but just because you’re exes doesn’t mean he had any reason to pull his punches on you. and because you’re exes it makes no sense that the exchanging blows and jabs would suddenly turn to a different kind of clash altogether.

your unfocused eyes can barely make out your surroundings, but you at least know that it’s already late into the night, long into the after hours. a soft moan breaks free from your lips, eyebrows deeping into a furrow. “we shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathe out.

you wince just as narumi’s teeth nip on the tender flesh on your collarbones, soothing the pain with a swift lick of his broad tongue. the discolouration blooms red on your skin, another mark accompanying the similar ones on the span of your neck.

he doesn’t reply, opting to slide his hands underneath your shirt to trail wet open-mouthed kisses down your stomach. he then starts fidgeting with the hem of your sweats, lifting his head up to look at you.

your body burns at those hooded gaze of his rosy eyes.

the million rational thoughts of denial and object are immediately turfed out, your body going pliant under his familiar touch as you close your eyes in relent. narumi gently slips his fingers beneath your pants and underwear to pull them both down simultaneously. “lift your hips for me, love.” he murmurs, the petname smoothing out of his lips like silk.

a shiver runs through you as you oblige, your lower part now exposed to his wandering eyes. he shifts down, his head now leveling with the space between your thighs.

the first swipe of his tongue against your folds nearly sends you reeling and narumi can feel his pants getting tighter by the second. “god, i missed your taste so bad. no one could ever compare,” he quietly groans before eventually diving in, eating you out like a man starving for days.

“fuckin’ sweet… this pussy’s mine, yeah?” he mutters as his tongue slides into your dripping hole with ease, licking up your arousal as more of it trickles down to your ass. it’s wild, full of hunger and intent as narumi buries his face between your thighs to consume your very essence into his own.

“f-fuck, hah—” your chest stutters as his arms wrap around your quivering thighs to keep you in place, his tongue thrusting in and out of your cunt just as desperately. loud slurping sounds and your moans can be heard throughout the training room, though neither of you have the mind to care about that as narumi intensifies his efforts, sucking on your swollen clit between his lips before dipping down again to your hole. 

he knows you’re close; he’s painfully familiar with the way your legs jerk beside his face, breath whiny and hitching in your throat as you teeter on the brink of ecstasy. narumi laps at you so greedily that it’s becoming messy and wet and rough and downright filthy.

it’s only when he growls against your flesh, the almost possessive sound vibrating against your sodden pussy that it finally pushes you towards the edge, coming undone on his tongue with a lewd cry. narumi hums, eagerly drinking up your slick and eyes closing in content as his face glistens with your sticky wetness. “nngh - gen…” nerves now oversensitized, you let out a whimper and weakly push at his shoulders to get him to stop. “gen!”

the man finally yet reluctantly pulls away from your cunt with a faint pop, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before he languidly plants kisses on your thighs, eyes still hidden by his ashen bangs. the both of you are breathing hard, and somehow the post-orgasm clarity decides to hit you then.

‘seriously, what are you doing?’ you throw your head back against the mat below you and squeeze your eyes shut as those same conflicting thoughts invade your mind again. “gen— narumi, sorry… i-i should—” you try your move your legs away from his shoulders but he cuts you off, leaning his forehead against your stomach as he rubs random figures on the side of your hips.

little do you know he’s actually tracing the kanji of his name on your skin.

“stay,” narumi whispers. with me, he means. “...please.”

and how can you ever say no to that?

thinking abt this nrm the whole time i write this :]

tbh i kind of had a different idea for the song inspo but i don’t think i’d be finishing that anytime soon (i’m just lazy). i could share like a little rough draft of it if anyone wanna tho

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[emswritingsstuff]

Idk if you’d feel like writing this(I’d probably end up short if you did bc I can’t brainstorm much of what would happen but I still love the idea)

when Daryl punched Negan, instead of killing Glenn(rip man) he killed US instead, Daryl’s lover 🤭 I love him sm and he’s been through so much pain, but he needs to suffer more 🫶 fem or gn reader, idm :)

The Lineup (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

warnings/notes: pretty self-explanatory. HEAVY angst, reader death, gorey violence. also the "he needs to suffer more" is CRAZY. this has been living in my drafts since august so i'm excited (ig?) to finally post this.

WC: 1.2k

--

The air was cold, but tensions were hot. Everyone's breaths were obvious in the dark, but also brightly lit area they found themselves in. 

Knees on the ground, everyone frozen but somehow shaking. Daryl was in rougher shape than most but not wanting to admit it himself. Opting to play up the tough face he always seemed to have. More so now than usual. He could see the way you were trembling in the corner of his eyes, quivering like a tiny dog. 

There’s been moments he’s seen you terrified, but this wasn’t like any other. When a psycho with a barbed wire bat was making you pay for your wrongs, it was hard to remain calm. Nothing the man, Negan, had said had really processed in Daryl’s brain, just silent rage and fear brewing inside of him. 

The sick game Negan played fell on deaf ears. Everyone silently watched as the bat made its way around. As Daryl watched the bat cycle through the group, he felt himself tense involuntarily every time it landed near you. He didn’t care what happened to him, but if a single scratch landed on you, Negan would be a dead man. No doubt. 

Once the bat eventually landed on Abraham, a sense of relief washed over him, but only for a moment. 

But every calm feeling he had in his body soon escaped as he saw the bat swing down. 

The events before him had become a blur. A red messy blur. Not only from the blood splattered all around the ground but also from the rage Daryl was feeling. Your heavy breaths could be heard in one ear, Rosita and Sasha’s sobs in the other. With all of it accompanied by wet cracking noises as Negan’s bat kept swinging down. 

As Abraham's now mutilated body laid twitching, Daryl was attempting to think of a solution to get out of this. To get you, and everyone out. 

As the cries got louder, Negan terrorized the group more. More specifically Rosita. As he brought the bat up to her face and flung Abraham's blood on her, Daryl felt something in him snap. 

Like he was controlling himself outside of his body. All the pain he had previously felt fading away into adrenaline coursing through his veins. 

He sprung at Negan and tried to take him down. Only to be quickly pulled off him and pinned down by his men, Daryl’s own crossbow being pointed to his head by Dwight. 

“No! Oh no. That? Oh my, that…is a no-no. The whole bit, not one bit of that shit flies here,” Negan’s act paused for a minute as he spoke, only for him to lock back into it. His bat was pointed at Daryl, looking like he was ready to end him right there. Daryl caught a glimpse of you, a terrified expression with glistening cheeks. 

Daryl felt the crossbow move closer to his head, Dwight getting ready to pull the trigger. “Want me to do it? Right here.” Dwight’s tone sounded eager, which Daryl sees makes you tense up even more. 

Even with your obvious fear, Daryl found himself not caring if he lived or died. Only thing he cared about was doing his best to protect you, and the family he had grown fond of all these years. If he was to get an arrow to the head right there, he wouldn’t mind. He would die knowing he had you, and that was okay with him. 

As if saved by the bell, Negan scoffed with a slight laugh. “No, you don’t get to kill them, not until you try a little.” Negan ordered the men to put Daryl back in the lineup, much to Dwight’s disappointment. Daryl could sense you relax, content with himself that he managed to get out of that situation even if he didn’t fight his way through. He was too focused on you though, only to be brought back to reality once Negan opened his mouth. 

“And anyway, that’s not how it works…” Negan paced around after he spoke. A long silence piercing the air. All until Negan started to speak again. 

“So,” he pauses for a beat, “back to it.” As he spoke, he subtly readied his bat. Enough to where no one saw his next move coming. 

In a blur of a motion, Negan lifted his bat and swung it down. Right onto your head. 

A cracking sound caused Daryl to look over, horrified with the sight before him. Your body laid limp on the ground, unlike Abraham, the blow had knocked you down instantly. Red blood shined and sunk into the ground. It wasn’t a lot, not yet at least. 

Daryl was frozen, unmoving. He felt his stomach churn. This was his fault. If he had just stayed in line, this mess would’ve blown over. You’d be safe. 

You’d be alive. 

As the bat swung down again, Daryl felt himself jump. The wet whacking sound made him feel even more nauseous. He was attempting to think of things to make the moment go by quicker, just wanting the Hell he was stuck in to end. But it was really never going to end. 

His mind flashed back to when everything had first started, when everything was still so uncertain. Back when he had lost Merle, you’d stuck by his side. 

He was scared to let you go, even if his stubborn personality would never make him admit it. The constant pushing away and cold hearted facade he had never seemed to phase you. Never once had you given up on him, even at his weakest moments. 

Having you around always gave him hope. A sort of hope that everything could be normal, hope that he would never have to suffer alone again. 

A simple “I’ll never leave you,” you had once spoken to him rang in his head. Of course you held true to that, how could you not? Nothing he could’ve said or have done could have made you go. 

And he’d never forgotten that. 

A third whack brought him out of these thoughts. Glancing over, all he managed to see was Negan’s silhouette and the bat. Blood dripped from the wire, as well as soaked the wood. Daryl tried to convince himself that what he was seeing was some sort of hallucination. Something that he had conjured up in his head due to all the blood he had lost. 

But Negan whipped his bat in Daryl’s direction, causing the blood that coated the wire to splatter on his face. Confirming it was real, too real. 

Looking at everyone’s trembling figures, his face softened up but only for a moment, “I am sorry, I truly am. But I did say, no exceptions!” He again brought the bat down onto your mangled, driving home the fact that there was no saving you. 

Whack after whack Daryl disassociated more and more, begging and even pleaded to be freed from the Hell he brought upon himself. But once again Negan's voice brought him back to the harsh reality. 

“You all are a bunch of pussies, I’m just getting started,” he stated as he paused for a moment, quickly returning to beating your body senselessly. All Daryl could feel was the now cold blood on his face and arms. He couldn’t take it.

You were gone because of him. That was all his fault, and he had to live with that. Forever. 

And for him, that’s a fate worse than death.

[shineon3]

Winter Warmers, Day 31

Prompt: NYE Countdown (kinda) & (just a smidge of) Mpreg / Word Count: 541

Once again big thanks to the lovely @33max for this event, I had so much fun writing these little ficlets

“Maxy?”

Daniel walks out on the porch, hands on his hips. He had just said goodbye to all their new year’s eve dinner guests, and he was now looking for his boyfriend, who had disappeared earlier. He had looked all around the house to no avail, so he decided to check the garden. And, sure enough, the blonde was there, curled up on the swinging love seat with one of the cats on his lap. Daniel sits down next to him. 

“Baby? You okay?” 

Max just hums, shifting so he's curled up against Daniel's side, and Daniel instinctively wraps an arm around him. They stay like that for a while, the silence only broken by Sassy’s soft purrs while Max pets her. 

“It’s been a long year, huh?”

The younger’s voice is a soft whisper, so low that Daniel almost misses it. When he looks at him, Max is staring at something far, far away, seemingly lost in thought.

“It has, yeah. But I’m happy, ya know?”

Silence again. Max leans a bit more against him before looking up. Their eyes meet, and Max’s lips slowly curl up in a smile.

“I’m glad you’re happy. And I’m happy too, of course. Even if I do not usually like change, I can tolerate it if it's with you.” 

Max's whole face goes soft, eyes crinkling as his smile widens, and the lights above them make him shine like the prettiest person Daniel has ever seen. He pulls the blonde in a kiss, pressing their foreheads together when they separate. 

“You're super cheesy tonight, Maxy,” He teases, cheerful. “You sure you didn't get replaced by aliens or something?” 

Max pulls back, lightly punching his shoulder and laughing. Offended by the sudden movements, Sassy hisses before jumping to the ground and retreating back inside. It makes both of them laugh even harder, and they struggle to compose themselves afterwards. 

“Okay, wait, wait, let me speak,” Max interrupts him just as Daniel opens his mouth. “I- there is something I wanted to tell you. But please wait till I'm done before reacting, okay?” 

Daniel takes Max’s fidgeting hands into his, squeezing them, and gives the blonde a patient smile. 

“I'm all ears, baby. Hit me. Or don't, you know what I mean.” 

Max smiles shakily, and takes a deep breath.

“I- I have… a little joey in the pouch.” 

He stutters over the words, face cherry red, and Daniel almost doesn’t understand the words with how fast Max strings them together. And when he does, his eyes go wide, immediately filling up with tears. He pulls Max in a hug, holding him tightly against him.

“Maxy, fuck, that’s-...” He barely manages to not choke on his words, the sound he lets out a mix between a laugh and a sob. “Maxy, baby, that’s amazing, oh my god-”

“You’re-” Max clears his throat. “You’re happy…?”

“Sweetheart, of course I’m fucking happy, I’m gonna be a dad! We’re going to have a baby, Maxy!”

Max’s arms wrap tighter around him, and they sit there for a while, giving each other time to process the news, happiness practically radiating from their bodies. 

Up in the sky, fireworks explode, loud and colorful, celebrating the start of the new year.

[mythals-whore]

Solas & the Flood

I made a post the other week with some of my thoughts on Solas, (the solas arc?) and genuinely this man haunts me. No matter what you think about his motivations or whether he was right, he is deeply complex and extremely well written. I love him, he frustrates me, I want to punch him in the nose and then give him a big hug.

That’s my disclaimer.

Now.

I’m going to get biblical (a bit) bc I cannot stop thinking about Solas as a god.

My last post was talking about the trolley problem and how the ancient elves or more specially, the world/culture of the ancient elves is dead and buried and Solas is trying to resurrect it.

But I was thinking, and I think the actual BEST analogy to what Solas is trying to do is the story if Noah and the Arc. And now that I’ve had the thought in my brain, I’m sure this has come up in fandom before, I actually cannot imagine I’m the first but I haven’t seen it so I AM MAKING THE POST.

Solas is playing god (sorry, this is indisputable to me. Argue if you want but I will not be swayed). He woke up in a world that was fucked up, to the point where he didn’t view anyone as a real person.

AND YES: there’s less magic in the world, mages are locked up for literally existing, spirits have suffered, the history of the ancient elves is forgotten, elves are enslaved and mostly live in poverty. etc. etc. The world he wakes in is a bad place.

So he decides to do what God does in the Bible(essentially):

“The Lord saw how great the wickedness of the human race had become on the earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. The Lord regretted that he had made human beings on the earth, and his heart was deeply troubled. So the Lord said, “I will wipe from the face of the earth the human race I have created—and with them the animals, the birds and the creatures that move along the ground—for I regret that I have made them.” (Gen 6:5 -7 NIV gets bonus points for regret)

And decides to flood the whole thing. Bonus points for the writers who kept giving Rook the line “drown the world in demons”. Yes, some people will survive (Noah and his family/elves, for sure I guess? unclear) and we’ll just make a new world (/restore the old world) bc this one sucks. And this one will be better because I say so.

Solas woke into the world he created and decided it was wicked, and he had to fix it by destroying it (sorry, won’t argue this, it’s in the text). He knows he’s destroying the current world/their way of life. He’s trying to remake it. I do genuinely believe he thinks that is the right thing. And he’s just so tragic to me because he (unlike God in the Bible) lives among people. Learns that they are good, and worthy. He makes friends and, in some cases, falls in love. But instead of allowing himself to live and experience the world, and try to fix it in small ways, he forces himself into “i am god so I can fix it” mode.

And it breaks my heart, (and it breaks his btw) because, yes, there is so much evil in the world, but that doesn’t mean we should destroy it and just try again because there will ALWAYS be evil in the world. It’s unavoidable. But in trying to remake the world, you will unavoidably destroy the good in it as well.

GOD literally acknowledges this after the flood.

“The Lord smelled the pleasing aroma and said in his heart: “Never again will I curse the ground because of humans, even though every inclination of the human heart is evil from childhood. And never again will I destroy all living creatures, as I have done.” (Gen 8:21).

Which to me, begs the question: even if we were given the option to let Solas tear down the veil, wouldn't the world just be fucked up in a new way?

Lots and lots of people would die, but he's done it. The veil is down, the elven gods are gone and for arguments sake, the Blight is no longer an issue. And say Lavellan lives, as do most of Solas's friends. But that doesn't just fix all the injustices in the world.

Not all of the Tevinter magisters are dead. The ones who know how to bind spirits and demons and use loads of blood magic? Those guys are fine. But Solas probably just accidentally killed a bunch of Shadow Dragons and, inadvertently, the slaves to those magisters who probably use them for blood magic. The raw magic will probably set off some artifacts in Arlathan, likely killing a portion of the Veil Jumpers, who are the only modern elves to even attempt to learn how to use all this technology. Bringing down the veil will not make matters for southern mages better. They're so scared of their own shadows that they're just as likely to fight the spirits they see as accept their help. southern Templars (assuming they still exist in your playthrough) will probably start killing mages on sight if they even survive.

He brings the veil down, but everything is still bad. Or even if it's not, it will get there. Eventually. Unavoidably. And maybe, just maybe Solas would realize that he’d made a big mistake AGAIN.

Regarding my last post, because I suppose i would like to amend it somewhat in hindsight: it’s not about whether you think he’s right about the world being fucked up. Solas is right. The world is fucked up, but I fundamentally disagree with him on how to fix it.

(This is where we get into some real world feelings and why this feels so important to me that I’ve written this whole ridiculous thing)

You don’t fix a fucked up world by destroying it. You do the work. You look a the world and you go “this is really fucked up” and you find ways to fix the things that are broken. You join advocacy groups, campaign for a candidate you believe in. You spread kindness in your community where you can. Be a light. Which, by the way is basically the Shadow Dragon slogan. You know, those guys both running the underground railroad and working in the imperial senate to try to abolish slavery in Tevinter?

I could really get into how this complaint I keep seeing about everything being too sanitized and how potentially it's just the world healing and people trying to be better (Isabela, hello?) but I digress.

TL;DR, I think this whole thing frustrates me so much because I think that fatalistic take is just so sad, but also I understand it but also I just feel like he could have found a better way if he was willing to put in the time and effort.

Also, some stuff about being God, I guess?

[thebest-medicine]

I ‘christ’Miss Our Little Talks

Happy Squealing Santa 2024!!!!! Didn’t it start in like 2014? Is this the 10th squealing Santa???? Dang-a-rang!

A/N: Happiest of holidays! Merriest of Christmasses! And a Happy New Year to thee my giftee @kawaiipeacemusic!!! Hope you had a good holiday season and have a wonderful start to your new year! And all the same to the wonderful, lovely @cantsaythetword!!! Thank you for hosting this year’s fabulous @squealing-santa event!! 

Prompt(s): “we’ll talk” with lee!deku ler!shinso, lee!todoroki ler!bakugo, or ler!todoroki x reader (I went with the first option!)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Summary: Shinso and Izuku are working on a class exercise together, but Midoriya spends more time muttering to himself rather than strategizing and analyzing with his classmate. When Shinso tries to get Izuku’s attention, he finds a much more effective way to get his classmate on task. Words: 2.4k [read on ao3]

...

“You have the rest of this class hour to complete everything in the assignment. Remember your post-training analysis at the end of the combat section.” Aizawa explained with little enthusiasm.  ��Pairs have already been decided, let’s get to it, 2-A.” He waved his class off and turned from the training grounds, walking to find himself a space along the sidelines and observe the young heroes.

Their assignment was a paired exercise focusing on teamwork and communication. They had a checklist of tasks to complete, and a combat training test of how their quirks worked best both together and against each other. Excited chatter began to flood the grounds, everyone pairing off with their respective partners. 

“Looks like it’s you and me, Icy Hot.” Bakugo leered, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s go!” 

“You realize most of these tasks are collaborative, right? We aren’t just fighting..?” Todoroki asked, raising an eyebrow at his assigned partner. 

“Yay! Yao-Momo!” Ashido cheered. “We’re gonna do so good!” She sped over toward Yaoyorozu and lifted her into a spinning hug. 

Laughing, they both made their way through the training grounds as Momo began, “I’ve already started analyzing the list and I think we can…” Her voice faded out to the others as she and Mina carved out their space and started to plan.

Hitoshi Shinso, newly integrated into U.A.’s hero course, was paired up to train with none other than Izuku Midoriya. Shinso, at times, still felt a little unsure of his place in the hero course —like today. Well, maybe today it was just that feeling of being out of sync with Izuku’s unrelenting enthusiasm —well, that and the constant muttering.

Their dynamic felt…well, a bit awkward at first –but functional. He knew Izuku’s heart was in the right place, even if he got caught up in his head a bit when he got too focused on something.

Some pairs of students had run off to complete some of the tasks in the woods or further away in the grounds, while a few other groups, including Bakugo and Todoroki, stayed near the large, outdoor mats and to start out with the versus combat section. 

Izuku, and his overthinking, added a minute or two on to the time it should have taken them as he debated, muttering to himself about which space would be the perfect area for training. 

Hitoshi rolled his shoulders, loosening himself up a bit, and pulled up his mask. “Ready, Midoriya?”

Izuku just nodded back. 

Shinso brought out his capture weapon scarf with a practiced ease, and the two of them began to spar. He narrowly but gracefully avoided a kick and a punch—kindly not done with Deku’s full power. It was hard for Shinso to use his quirk while trying to fight one-on-one out in the open. He would have to try to think of something else to tilt the battle to his advantage. 

Calling for a break, Shinso made his way to sit along the side. He took some sips of water as Izuku paced back and forth, muttering to himself. 

“Midoriya… want to share what you’re thinking?” Hitoshi asked, glancing up at him. 

“Hm?” Izuku made a slight sound of acknowledgement, turning as he continued to pace.

“I’d love some feedback, suggestions, tips.. and to work with you on some of the same.. This is supposed to be a partnered project, after all.”

“Oh, uh, sorry!” Midoriya grinned sheepishly. “Was I muttering to myself again?” He brought a hand to the back of his neck, cheeks pinkening a bit. 

“Yes.” Shinso sighed, reaching his arm out to Midoriya’s side to pull him in closer, help him focus.

Izuku squeaked at the unexpected touch, jumping a little away from Hitoshi. “Ah–”

“What was that?”

“Huh? Nothing!” 

“Nothing?”

“Yes!” Izuku said quickly.

“Then…are you ready to get back to our schoolwork?”

“Y-Yeah! Exactly.” 

“Hm.”

Midoriya started to move himself away from Shinso’s hand on his side, only for the fingers there to reach out further and poke-poke-poke-squeeze. 

“Shi-hihihih-in- whohohoahahaha–” The unexpectedness of it all had been what hit him first—what had really put him off guard—a sudden, playful touch that sent his nerves alight and left him gasping for air between unbidden giggles. Shock turned into pure, unfiltered reaction as Izuku realized he couldn’t stop the laughter that seemed to take on a life of its own. 

Shinso’s eyes sparkled with an inquisitive awe. “So you are ticklish.” He said quietly, mostly to himself. 

“Nahaha- I’m not!” Midoriya squealed, protesting despite the obvious evidence to the contrary. His knees buckled as he crumpled forward onto the dusty mat. 

Shinso followed him down. “Whoever you partner up with, it’s important to be fully honest with one another, isn’t it?” He lamented, teasing as he pinned the other hero-in-training to the floor. “How else will we ever work together?” Shinso grinned then put on a faux pleading look. “C’mon. Talk to me?” He poked along Izuku’s sides, prompting.

Izuku grunted, shaking his head as he tried with all his might to fight his urge to laugh desperately.

Shinso sighed. “Oh, we’ll talk.” Then he dragged one of Midoriya’s arms behind his own back, pinning it bent up against his shoulder blade. “Sooner than you think.” He wrapped his scarf around Izuku’s arm in a few places, then around his chest and neck, securing him in place.

Now, Shinso had him pinned face down, one strong leg over him half straddling his body, one of his arms wrapped down at his side in the capture scarf and the other now half-chicken-winged behind his back. Izuku could probably get out of this with a little concentration, but then… A jolt raced through his mind as he felt a feather-light touch reappear against the side of his ribs, his mind struggling to process the sensation. This wasn’t a quick jab or poke, this was soft, deliberate, giggle-inducing tickling. It started as just a faint, tingling pressure. While his mind was still catching up to what was happening, his body betrayed him, jerking instinctively to the side as the sensation spread like wildfire. His chest ached as he held his breath. 

The realization hit him—he was being tickled—Shinso was really pinning him down and tickling him—and he wasn’t stopping. 

A squeal of helpless laughter blurted out before Izuku could stop it. His breath hitched when he managed to get a breath in, and for a split second, he froze, caught between the uncontrollable urge to squirm away and the disbelief in what Shinso—quiet, brooding, mysterious Shinso—was doing to him (and during class, of all times!). 

He managed to twist his head to the side enough to get a look at his purple-haired classmate, only to see a devious half-smile on his face. Surprise rippled through Izuku—he would have expected something like this from.. honestly almost anyone else—and the shock quickly gave way to a wave of chaotic, fluttery sensations that had him twisting and wriggling without thinking. Shinso upped his tempo, tapping his fingertips along his classmate’s ribs and grinning. “Thought this might help you talk..”

Fingers pinched up and down Izuku’s ribs, whose eyes widened as his mouth curved up in a wide, wobbly smile. It was as if Izuku’s whole body lit up at once, the gentle, teasing contact making it impossible to stay still, his laughter spilling out in uncontrollable bursts. “Nononono Shihihihinso wahahahait!” He giggled helplessly, trying to muffle the sound. “Nohohoho no wahahaha! Hehehe not t-tickling ehehehehe! Peheheheople will seehehehee!” 

His arms struggled against Shinso’s scarf as his legs kicked out against the floor, flailing aimlessly each time Shinso brought his hands up higher along Midoriya’s ribs. 

“C’mon. If you don’t want them to notice, keep it down. Control yourself, Midoriya.” Shinso teased quietly, a smug little smile on his lips. “C’mon, does it really tickle that bad?”

“Yehehehehes! It- ha-ah—” Izuku stopped struggling all at once, his eyes going blank as he slumped against the large mat. 

“Got-cha.” Shinso half-sang, teasing. 

Izuku stared blankly, fully under the grip of his classmate’s quirk. Hitoshi flipped him over onto his back and untangled him from his scarf, adjusting his limbs and spreading his arms out to the sides.

“Now. Let’s see how long you can keep those arms up.” Hitoshi ordered, crawling over his classmate’s body to straddle him, expecting his quirk to be quickly overcome with the desperation brought on by tickling. 

Izuku just laid there after bringing his arms straight up over his head, otherwise unmoving. Somewhere in his mind he was blushing ten thousand shades of red and giggling in anticipation. 

“Good job.” Shinso smirked. “Now… Just in case.” He wrapped the strong scarf around Izuku’s wrists, keeping them together where they laid over his head. 

Inside, Midoriya whimpered.

“Ohh. You know what I want to try, Midoriya?” 

Izuku simply stared blankly up at him. 

“I’ve been working more and more on expanding my quirk and making people talk.. I wonder if I can get you to…” He paused, considering. “Tell me where you are most vulnerable to tickling.” 

No! Somewhere in Izuku’s mind screamed as his mouth opened and he heard his voice answering his classmate with almost no intonation. Like it didn’t belong to him. ‘Hips.’ Dammit dammit dammit! What was he saying now? ‘Stomach. Feet. Armpits.’ Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

“Now we’re talking!” Shinso appeared happier than his classmate had ever seen him. “Alright, now. Stay still for me.” He smirked, adding. “Not that you have much of a choice.”

Shinso wriggled one finger gently under each of Izuku’s arms. 

His expression stayed neutral all of 5 seconds before a smile morphed its way onto his face and he broke out of the quirk’s hold, tearing his bound wrists down in a futile attempt at protecting himself. He giggled loudly, squirming wildly back and forth as Shinso’s now-trapped fingers danced their way across the hollows of his armpits. 

“Plehehehehease!” Midoriya squeaked, kicking his feet into the air. “They’re gonna seeeeheheheheheheee!!!”

“Yeah they might if you don’t quiet down, do you think they’d help me?” 

“No!” Izuku gasped, panicking at the thought before his expression and most of his mind went blank. Caught again. At least the tickling stopped for a moment. 

And then it’s arms back up. Eyes blank. Shinso’s hands closing in… 

“Where else did you say, stomach, right?” As Hitoshi drew his fingers over Midoriya’s vulnerable middle—one that used to be soft and gentle but was now hardened with muscle—he wiggled them like a sluggish spider crawling over his belly. 

He felt the body tense underneath him and saw the corners of Deku’s lips almost start to twitch into a smile. But, it seemed that as long as he remained gentle, didn’t overwhelm, he might well be able to keep his mental hold on the other boy longer. 

On the path back over his shivering stomach, Shinso’s sluggish spidering fingers slipped into Izuku’s belly button, and he hiccuped-laughed his way right back into consciousness. 

“Okahahahay, ohmygosh- Shihihihinso—” Izuku batted weakly with his joined wrists at his captor’s still-tickling hands. “Plehehease—” 

The tickling stopped then, but something in Shinso’s eyes told Izuku it wasn’t quite over yet. 

“Now… I’m not gonna tear off your shoes in the middle of class but I will be testing those out another time.” Izuku gaped at him as he spoke. “But, I did want to try one more spot you mentioned…” Shinso wiggled his fingers slowly toward Midoriya’s middle. 

“Wait! You can’t—” His eyes bugged out wide.

“Oh, can’t I?” 

Izuku shook his head, biting his lip to keep from answering again.

“You know I can just tickle you again anyway, quirk or not, right?”

“Nohohoho!” Izuku whined, he couldn’t help it. 

A beat later, his eyes and face returned to what seemed to be their common state—blank.

“There we go…” Hitoshi smiled, having Izuku reposition himself with his arms over his head. His fingers wiggled menacingly and dramatically slow as they approached his lower waist. And just when they made contact—

Izuku shrieked, breaking free from the hypnotic hold mere moments after Hitoshi’s fingers squeezed into the divots of his hips through his uniform. “WahahahaHA-NOT THERE!”

Shinso chuckled, sounding pleased, as he backed up a bit and stopped pinning the other boy down.

With a quick roll onto his side and a kick into the ground with a small percentage of his power, Izuku jumped to his feet and scrambled away before he could be further caught up in the capture scarf or hypnosis again — or worse, even just pinned from how weak and dizzy he felt with laughter. “Ahahahalright! Don’t we have-have work to do?” Izuku whined, putting his bound hands up between them defensively. 

“Couldn’t help but keep talking to me, even though you knew it was making it worse for you..” Shinso smirked at him affectionately, reaching out to ruffle his hair. 

Izuku flinched away with a sheepish grin. “What? I couldn’t help it. I- you were- you kept-”

“You know… You never actually told me to stop either.” Shinso smirked as Midoriya turned bright red. 

“I- what? No, I- I did.. I mean, well, I couldn’t even–” 

“We’ll talk about that later.” Shinso waved a hand dismissively.

Izuku buried his face in his hands, mumbling into them. 

“Don’t be so embarrassed.” Shinso wrapped an arm around Izuku’s shoulders. “Your reactions were pretty cute.” 

“Ohmygodshutup.” Midoriya whined into his hands, cheeks still burning. “We.. we have an assignment to get done.”

“You’re right. Maybe we can use some of what we learned here in our analysis report?” Hitoshi smiled, still a hint of teasing, as he began to unbind his classmate’s wrists.

Izuku brightened, already overcoming his embarrassment by thinking about how the impacts of an outside stimulus can affect those affected by Shinso’s quirk. Could it be tested further? They stood, discussing ideas, before they continued on with their assignment.

[happyendingsong]

mina's on live <33333 mariah came into the comments just as someone asked 'are you single?' and mina said yes.

mariah got annoyed with her ("😠"), and mina walked it back like hi mariah, yes i am single for you 💞💞 . and mariah agreed with "yes mariah's mina," then mariah signed off for the night. they're so cute.

[dailykugisaki]

Day 117 | id in alt

I think Kugisaki would like to hold Maki's hand again idk tho.....

[creativesplat]

That scene from A Tale of Two Stars, from Stan's perspective.

[1980ssunflower]

LOOK at my FUCKING husbands BOY!!!!!!!!!!!

[silverselfshippingchaos]

the way she looks at him here... goodness...

[mrsbarnesblog]

just us

masterlist

summary: a situation between pogues and kooks at the beach made Rafe rethink his priorities

word count: 1.8k.

warnings: season 4 spoilers, established relationship, mention of the dead turtle, that hoe Ruthie, protective Rafe

a/n: i'm obsessed with season 4, y'all. absolutely in love with everything that's going on and especially with Rafe being in a better place with a girl that he actually likes 🥹 this scene at the beach with turtles just made me sob, so I really need someone to drag that bitch by her hair. sorry not sorry.

Your heart was beating with adrenaline from the scene that just happened at the beach, with Topper’s girlfriend almost running over the pogues and being the usual insane bitch that she was. Rafe stood beside you, silent but shaking his buzzed head in disapproval.

Kie was standing on her knees on the sand, in shock, with juice still dripping down her face and hair. She brushed off the help of her friends, instead standing and picking something up from the ground, without hesitation, going towards the group of people around you. They seemed absolutely delighted by the whole situation, laughing, fist bumping each other, and making you want to punch every single one of them in the face. 

You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, not with a bunch of people with whom you shared mutual hatred towards each other. Rafe was your only connection with them, and it seemed like even for him it was a bit too much. A fun day at a beach with a little surfing competition, where even Topper and JJ seemed to have some fun together, took the wrong turn way too quickly.

“Look what you did! Is this okay?” Kie stopped in front of Ruthie, reaching out her hand to show something that you weren’t able to see, but by the look on her face it was obviously serious to her. “There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it!” Your stomach twisted at the realization, and you took a step closer to see it yourself. 

“Oh my God.” You whispered, catching a glimpse of a tiny dead turtle with a crushed shell laying in the palm of her hand. So little and harmless that the picture of it brought tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t look, baby.” Rafe’s deep voice mumbled near your ear, with a warm hand sprawled across your back to try to distract you, but you shook your head, unable to take your eyes off it. 

“All right, but it was only one.” Ruthie said with her usual attitude, nonchalantly pointing to the rest of the turtles that, luckily, were perfectly fine. Your mouth opened in disbelief, and you looked at Rafe to see him uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head. 

“I’m so sorry, Kie…” You whispered to her, stepping further away from the kooks, eyes drifting again to the dead animal in her hand. No matter how hard you tried to fit in with Rafe and his friends, you could never be one of them if it meant to be a bunch of pompous and cruel rich kids. You thought that, maybe it was time for you to finally admit that. 

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” She briefly looked at you, because despite not being friends, there never were any arguments between you and the rest of the pogues, always keeping cool and friendly with each other. “There’s something wrong with you, people.” Kiara looked back at the kooks with disgust written all over her face. 

“I’m leaving, Rafe.” Barely holding back your tears, you looked back at your boyfriend, before picking up your beach bag from the sand and turning around. “I’m sorry again for them, Kie.”

“No, wait, Y/N.” He pushed through the crowd, wide-eyed, quickly approaching you and grasping your wrist. “This is not—“

“I don’t want to be here. I didn’t sign up to hang out with your friends when I started dating you, okay?” You groaned in frustration, attempting to move, but Rafe stopped you. “I don’t even know why we’re here, why you are here, when you clearly don’t enjoy it anymore.” 

“Listen, this is not so easy, okay?” He rolled his eyes, but you knew it was not fully directed at you; Rafe was already struggling with trusting those around him, and the fact that you slowly but steadily made him reconsider his current surroundings did not help. 

“You are not like them, they are not your friends, don’t you understand it?” The pure desperation was speaking in you, searching for the answers in his eyes. You overheard some people laughing at you, as they were too confident that Rafe would never listen to someone like you, someone from the cut, not even realizing the war that was currently going on in his head. 

He was silent, thinking, making his already overwhelmed mind go hundred miles per hour to figure something out, because you were right. The more time had passed, the more the two of you were together, the less Rafe found himself enjoying the presence of his old friends, the less he wanted to do that childish bullshit. 

“This dumb fucking bitch almost ran over people and killed an innocent animal because her big ego got hurt, do you understand?! So I’m leaving. Alone or with you.” You almost whispered the last part to him, too scared that he'd not choose you. At the end of the day, you were a pogue, and no matter how much you tried, you would never be good enough for Rafe. 

“What did you just call me?” Ruthie arched a brow, now shooting daggers at you. 

“I called you a dumb fucking bitch, didn’t you hear me?” You spat, finally having a good enough reason to tell the truth right in her face. “Or are you too stupid to get that through your thick scull?” 

“That’s rich, coming for a pogue. It’s just a cycle of life. And if you, losers, are so offended by that, it’s not my problem.” 

“A cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not a cycle of life.” Kiara pushed Ruthie with her hand, and it nearly turned into a fight, with JJ standing by his girlfriend's side. You turned away from them, too frustrated and drained to bother listening to the rest of the conversation, your gaze shifting to Rafe, who still held your hand.

“I want to leave. Stay here if you want to, I don’t care. I’m done with them, Rafe.” Your teary eyes met his blue ones, and he shook his head, pulling you closer with your forearms. The mere thought of you leaving him, angry and upset, triggered a whirlwind of panic within him.

“Hey, no, I’m not staying, okay?” Rafe's hands, now much gentler and delicate, touched your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that you could not keep back. Rafe had never been too comfortable with the display of emotions, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time he had actually seen you cry. And he knew how much you had always carried for animals, how you petted every stray cat or a dog on the street, and how you hated any form of violence against them. 

The pulsating and aching feeling in his chest at the sight of your tears made him want to drop everything, or rather, eliminate everyone who had upset you, and just hold you in his arms. 

“Aw, look at you.” You heard that annoying voice behind you back again, pulling you out of the bubble in which you fell, and turning around, you saw that Kie and JJ were no longer there. Your eyes instantly rolled back as Ruthie looked at you with her usual fake sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go back to your side of the island, you’re not one of us. Don’t even know why Rafe bothers to bring you here when you’re just another dirty toy to—“

Rafe left your side before she could finish her sentence, looming over her with the most furious expression you had ever seen on his face. Everyone and everything seemed to fall silent for a moment, and you held your breath, unsure what he would do. “Wanna say some bullshit about her? Try to do it right in my face and see what happens.”

“You’re not seriously protecting the pogue. She’s not on our side.” Her smile faded, her eyes now nervously looking between Rafe and Topper, who was standing behind her back. 

“C’mon, Rafe…” He started, but quickly shut his mouth as soon as Rafe turned his head towards him with a silent threat. You felt your heartbeat quickening as the atmosphere started to get even more intense. Everyone around you also started arguing and saying God knows what, but Rafe was awfully calm, and it frightened you even more. 

You moved closer to them as you made your way through the warm sand, until you were able to place a comforting hand on your boyfriend's back. He was so tense under your touch that it amazed you how the hell he was not shaking because of it. The only times you had ever seen him behaving that way was when people whispered something about his father behind his back.

“It’s okay, Ray.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down his back to take a hold of his bicep. 

“You’re lucky that I don’t hit women. But if I hear a single word about my girlfriend again, you will regret it, I promise you." Your stomach flattered from the way he protected you, from the way his friends opened their mouths in shock at his words. Even Topper and Kelce were too stunned to speak, sending each other weird glances. “Control, your crazy bitch, Top.” 

As if nothing had happened, Rafe stepped back, throwing a protective hand over your shoulders and guiding you away from the group. He was silent for a whole walk towards his truck, only stopping near the passenger door and turning you to face him. 

His worried blue eyes were almost shining under the bright and hot sun and you saw words forming in his head and sitting at the tip of his tongue. You waited another minute, while Rafe was focused on your necklace, thinking. His hands found a place on your waist, rubbing circles into your skin, until he finally took a deep breath and looked up. 

“You’re right.” He said simply. “I’m not this person anymore. That shit with racing with pogues was fun and all, but I didn’t like what happened today.” You half smiled, nodding and encouraging him to talk. “If—if I want to be like my dad, I need to have my priorities straight. No more of this bullshit, no more fake ass people, yeah? You’re the only one who's been here for me for a long fucking time. You’re the only one who I can trust, baby.”

His hand cupped your cheek, eyes focused solemnly on you, before he lowered himself closer to you to place a kiss on your lips. 

“This is the right decision. You’ve overgrown them, you’re a better man now. And i’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I promise. I guess it’s just us now." Your body sagged against his, too wrapped in the comfort of his presence to even care about anything else. Your lips brushed against his, making Rafe groan.

“Just us, baby.”

[thedevotionaltour]

this is literally the year of the matt toy.

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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