#i need to like make a drawing or something

[wileys-russo]

leah, training, “can i sleep on you please?” or something like that

just one more II l.williamson

"oh no leah come on do we have to!" you groaned as your fiancé clicked into netflix and loaded up yet another season of the crown.

"yes! babe, this is educational and entertaining." the blonde patted your knee with a grin as you groaned even louder and slumped down deeper into the sofa.

"leah i hate to break it to you but as an australian i have zero interest in the royal family, or their arguments over tea trades and affairs!" you scoffed, you respected that the blonde had an illustrious interest in it however that respect lessened when she tried forcing it onto you.

the pair of you had been together for years now and somehow you'd managed to scrape by mostly unscathed, growing very able to block out her ramblings with hums and nods which seemed to appease her.

but then beth just had to go and get her into the crown, interrupting the calm and steady flow of your home routine and especially your once sacred movie nights.

no more would you be curled up together, sharing commentary and laughter and an occasional kiss, arguing over who got the last handful of popcorn, half of the bowl littering the ground where you'd been tossing it at each other trying to catch it in your mouths.

no now you had to try and stay awake through the gruelingly boring slow burned torture that was this show and leahs obsession with it, fighting to keep your eyes open and having to put up with leahs 'tests' that you were paying attention.

you'd tried to leave her to it, going to watch a movie or a show of your own in the bedroom but the moodiness and sulking and the pouts and the dramatic sighs that would echo out for hours from the living room just weren't worth it.

"okay baby, its eleven and we have to be up for the morning session at six, we can't be late again!" you decided for the pair of you, reaching for the remote and quirking an eyebrow when leah quickly snatched it back.

"leah-" "just one more! you can go to bed, but i have to finish this season." "lee there's three more episodes in the season! you may as well come to bed with me now, and watch them tomorrow afternoon when we get back." you tried to bargain but it was no use with the stubborn blonde who firmly shook her head, remote still held tightly to her chest.

"fine! you're a grown woman, you can make your own choices. one more leah, don't be stupid." you warned sternly as your fiance hummed with a firm nod. "just one more pretty girl, i promise."

"goodnight, your highness!" you mocked, pressing your lips to hers a few times as she squeezed your hips, nipping at your bottom lip for the teasing comment.

only as you woke suddenly around four in the morning needing to use the bathroom, you realised maybe you should have fought a little harder to get leah to come to bed with you, the defenders side still empty.

"for fuck sakes." you grumbled tiredly, wiping the sleep from the corner of your eye and swinging out of bed, stomping off to the living room where sure enough the blonde was hanging half off the sofa with her mouth wide open.

she choked on air and hit the floor with a thump as you smacked her in the face with a cushion, gasping as she sat up and found you to be glaring down at her.

"why the hell would you do that jesus christ woman are you trying to put me into cardiac arrest!?" leah clutched her chest and exhaled shakily. "leah it is four in the fucking morning, get your ass into bed right now!" you growled pointing behind you as the taller girl got to her feet, trudging off still grumbling under her breath.

"i swear to god leah you better get up when that alarm goes off tomorrow, if you refuse i'll leave you here and go by myself." you warned seriously getting into bed beside her and smacking away her hands which tried to draw your body into hers.

"seriously?" "seriously, goodnight williamson." "you know a few more months and you'll be a williamson." "well i haven't said i do yet." "hey!"

~

"nope!" your hand banged down on the table with a loud smack causing the blonde across from you to shoot upwards where her head had once been resting on the cafeteria table.

"i warned you leah." you took a bite of toast as the girl whined and buried her face in her hands. "long night then eh?" beth teased as she joined the pair of you, steph, lia and laura not far behind.

"this is your fault!" you poked at the girls chest accusingly who scoffed. "me? what did i do!" she frowned as once again your hand smacked down against the table causing leah to jolt and sit upright again.

"got her into that awful show that she stayed up until four in the morning watching. its taken over our house, our date nights, our dinner conversations, you're a menace!" you huffed, stabbing at your eggs and shoving them into your mouth.

"what show?" "the crown! she's addicted!"

"oo what season are you up to? i really liked-" steph started excitedly, falling short at the dirty glare you sent her in response. "stephanie you're supposed to be on my side!" you scowled making the older girl grin, reaching over to shove your head to the side.

"nah, where's the fun in that?" "traitor to your own country." "aw does it make you mad?" the brunette cooed pinching your cheek as you swatted her hand away, everyone finishing up their food as leah fought to stay awake, munching away on her toast.

"baby please, let me just take a little nap, i'll say i need physio or something." your fiance grumbled as you all filed out of the cafeteria heading for the change rooms, the air ablaze with chatter.

"nope, not a chance. i already warned them!" you shook your head firmly with a slight smile at the way your fiance threw her head back with a groan, moping after you into the change rooms where everyone was already swapping over their trainers to cleats.

"come on, can i sleep on you please? just five minutes." the blonde slumped over into you, grabbing onto your shirt and pressing her face into your neck.

"i love you. you're so pretty. and i'm so tired!" leah whined as you unhooked her fingers from the material of your training top. "well you should have listened to your pretty fiance when she told you to come to bed." you pouted mockingly, kissing her cheek and bending down to lace up your boots.

~

"oi watch it kyra!" leah yelped, ducking the ball which was booted at her head where she'd been leaning against the goal post in between drills. "sorry leah!" the brunette grinned showing she was anything but, alessia grabbing her in a headlock as you snickered.

"what did you do?" steph appeared beside you with a knowing look at the amused smile on your face, having seen it many many times in the years she'd known you and played beside you for country and club.

"me? nothing!" you gasped with mock offence, steph humming and staring you down as your grin widened. "i might have slipped kyra a little money to make sure leah stays...sharp, today." you admitted with a sly smile, steph shaking her head though it wasn't with disbelief.

"oh she's going to kill you, pest." "well she can't do that if she's asleep now, can she stephanie?"

"kyra i swear to god if you kick that ball at me one more time i'm going to shove it down your throat!"

[ghouljams]

That AU where Princess Reader kills herself because of her broken heart then gets reincarnated many many years later and gets to see her Ghost but now he’s a Lieutenant in the SAS and Reader is probably someone wealthy and in need of having a bodyguard.

Dreamily sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhs

The cycle continues, except this time Reader will not lose her Ghost again.

(I’m a sucker for reincarnation where only one remembers. The angst Ghost would feel if he was the one that remembered would be top tier too ughhhhhhhh I need to start writing againnnnnnnn)

Ghost sees you across the bar and knows you're meant for more than this. Meant for stone floors and sconces, for ivory towers and colorful banners, for satin slippers and floor length gowns, a crown on your head and tears staining your face. You shine like a beacon in the dimly lit pub, your smile like sunshine pulling at a long inescapable darkness, drawing him in like a moth to a flame before he can take a moment to stop himself. Something about the way your eyes find his makes him feel... unworthy.

You don't drink. The knowledge comes to him unbidden and true, despite the tall glass in your hand.

Your skirt is short, and there's a strange guilt that eats at him when his eyes drag over the bare skin of your thighs. Something else twists in his stomach, aches in his fingertips to touch such unfamiliar territory, to feel the softness of your skin just once.

A subtle sparkle against your chest, delicate jewelry that betrays your wealth to no one but Ghost. The kind of girl he could never hope to sink his teeth into, and yet all he wants to do is bury his face between your tits and lick the diamonds off them.

You blink up at him as suddenly as he finds himself in front of you, your lips parted around the end of an unfinished sentence. Your hair halos you just like he remembers, and suddenly a hundred faces flutter through his mind, gentle as the wings of butterflies and all of them you. Always you.

"Buy ya a drink." Simon offers.

"Oh," You glance at your glass, "it's just sparkling water and lime." You look back at him and he wants nothing more than to sweep you up and kiss you like you deserve, "I don't drink."

I know, Simon wants to say, I know you in every small way that doesn't matter, that's never mattered, and I've loved you in all the big ways that never came to pass.

"Dinner then," He asks instead.

"Alright," You agree with a smile.

This time. This time he'll get it right.

[vampire-connoisseur]

this has actually been pretty helpful in making me realize where the disconnect is.

it is true that introducing pasteurization significantly cut down on infant mortality, and that not all pathogens can be eliminated without pasteurization (which is just heating the milk up but not enough to boil it), AND that claims that pasteurization reduces the nutritional value of milk are, at best, exaggerated, but I still like raw milk. at least in the summer, it tastes a bit nicer. that's the only real benefit of it.

so the risk associated with drinking something kind of tasty has to be pretty low for it to be worth it.

a pretty anti-raw milk article here: https://www.popsci.com/health/is-raw-milk-safe/

explains that out of the 3.3 million Americans drinking raw milk (a number from 2022), an estimated 730 of them get sick (a number from 2017). that is a 1 in 4,520 chance. according to this: https://www.ddlawtampa.com/resources/car-accident-statistics-you-need-to-know-in-2021, out of the 243.35 million licensed drivers in the US, 6 million get into car accidents per year on average. That is a 1 in 40 chance. That includes minor accidents though. There are an average of 38,000 fatalities in accidents per year, a 6,400th of the number of drivers-- but this includes passengers, so this is harder to directly compare. additionally, I suspect people with drivers licenses average more time driving than raw milk drinkers spend drinking raw milk, and this is comparing an injury to a disease. this should give a general sense of the rate of actual sickness from drinking raw milk. it isn't a super-present part of life, constantly killing raw milk cultists, but it does occur.

still, car crashes are the leading cause of death to Americans, so if drinking raw milk is equally dangerous, that's still really bad. But it isn't, because as the same earlier source explains, healthy adults will probably just have a bad time for a few days and make a full recovery from milk-borne diseases, and most of the danger is to vulnerable populations such as immunocompromised people, pregnant people, children, the elderly, and so on. I am not in any of these categories, so I feel reasonably safe drinking raw milk.

...I mentioned before that research has not clearly supported any health benefits to drinking raw milk, so this is purely anecdotal, but people in my family who are mildly lactose intolerant say they are able to drink raw milk without pain, and switching to raw milk from regular milk seems to reduce eczema for some children- again, in my family, and not under conditions appropriate to draw any real conclusions from.

that aside, raw milk is definitely not viable on a large scale. industrial agriculture involves animals very close together getting minimal attention and investment. you CANNOT operate a CAFO (concentrated animal feeding operation) without introducing a serious load of antibiotics into animals-- so if you're avoiding raw milk to avoid these antibiotics, I would avoid grocery store milk altogether, even though it's pasteurized. animals in more spacious, sanitary (-ish.it's still a farm, there are limits) conditions with more monitoring and veterinary attention available have a lower need for antibiotics. Another fear regarding CAFOs is that the overuse of antibiotics in such an otherwise pathogenically sketchy environment will lead to antibiotic resistance among potentially very dangerous bacteria. plus, even with all the antibiotics they use, I would absolutely not drink raw milk from a place like this.

when I wondered why raw milk discourse was a thing, I was wondering why raw milk specifically has become this battleground issue when it's really just a slightly risky food item. I can't find statistics on how many people eat raw shellfish, but the CDC estimates that 80,000 people get sick every year from vibriosis alone, which is just one of the pathogens found in raw and undercooked shellfish such as oysters, and 100 people die from it: https://www.foodsafety.gov/blog/oysters-and-vibriosis

but for some reason raw milk specifically is seen as irrationally hazardous to consume. I personally as a healthy adult am comfortable eating raw milk, raw shellfish, and raw eggs depending on their sources, but a lot of people, including healthy adults, are not comfortable with one or more of these things.

to me it feels like a personal choice regarding the amount of risk you want to take just to have a tasty meal, keeping in mind your own health and history. I figured it was because of its association with science skepticism because Pasteur, the father of modern microbiology, invented it and it sounds scary enough that someone who also doesn't want to be vaccinated could start avoiding it, but the discourse around it isn't even educating anyone because it's just as full of misinformation-- albeit less dangerous misinformation-- as that of the Pasteur-fearing camp.

BY THE WAY, I might have gotten some of this information wrong because I'm not about to research and write a whole essay about milk. Also, I haven't had raw milk in years because it's pricier and sours if you look at it too hard, but I like it and still would if given the chance. It's a bit like oat milk actually.

[miyukisu]

A Trace of Body Paint .ᐟ

❤︎ Request | He's learning anatomy for his art class—you'll help him, right? 3.1k wc ╰ feat. artist!shidou ryusei (bllk) x afab!reader

tags - lots of tension and build up at first, p*rn with plot, college au, artist! shidou, he and reader are both experienced, FILTHY, dirty talk, unprotected smeggs, rough smeggs, face f*cking, creampies, overstim, no y/n, not beta read

MEGA MASTERLIST

minors do not interact

"Yeah! I'll see you next week for my next assignment. Okay?"

Yeah right... next week...

You didn't peg Shidou as the type to flake on you, especially since he was the one who needed something from you. At first, you gave him the benefit of the doubt, then your mind wandered to impossible territory.

Maybe he found a different person to model for him.

Maybe you weren't good enough a model and he was getting low marks because of you...

But wouldn't that be his fault?

Maybe... he dropped out of class?

Every possibility crossed your mind, but not once did you think of actually asking him, "Hey, what's up with not calling me anymore to model for your art class? You know... THE THING WE DO WEEKLY?"

But pride does get the best of us. You are no different. Either the world ends or he grovels at your feet for ghosting you like that. Anyway, why did you care so much?

Shidou Ryusei only asked you to model for him for a few weeks for an art course he was taking. It just so happens you two were close and your schedules matched (and he thought you were really pretty). In exchange, he'd treat you after every drawing session. Ordinary stuff—that was until you slowly started to develop feelings for him.

There was something about the way he looked at you as he studied every minute detail—making sure they were all transferred to paper. He made you feel so... beautiful in ways you've never realized before. But most of all, you fell for such a creative and passionate spirit.

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon spotting a familiar hairdo across the quad. Your eyes met and you made sure not to waste this opportunity—glaring at him, making sure he knew how much he had pissed you off. Shidou looked left and right, possibly trying to find a way out of it. But maybe the intensity in your eyes worked because before you knew it—he was making his way to you.

"Hey..."

"Really? That's all you have to say after ignoring the texts I sent last week?"

"Eh... must've missed them," he lied.

"What about the time you saw me near your building? You missed me standing a meter away from you?"

"Guess so," he lied again.

His nonchalance made you want to rip your hair out. This hot-and-cold treatment was driving you up the wall. It was clear with the exasperated look on your face.

Though, his eyes never left yours—those same damn eyes that stared at you for hours. It was like there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't.

"Why did you even walk over here?"

He sighed like he didn't gave a shit. "You looked like you were about to murder me."

"Shouldn't you be running away then?" you countered. Shidou simply shrugged. "I'm not sure either."

You were about to unleash your fury, but he sighed loudly before continuing. "Fuck... fine. I've been avoiding you."

"Yes. I can clearly see that. The question is—why?"

"Look. I've been getting the highest scores in class because I have the luxury to have an actual person model for me... while everyone else relies on references on the internet or whatever," he explains. "But now... it's..."

"Isn't that a good thing then?" you asked—confused by his reasoning, but even more confused by his change in demeanor.

He shook his head. "Nah... it's just... I won't be needing you anymore."

Your jaw dropped. He said it so casually like it didn't just left a gaping hole in your chest.

"I mean," he backtracked. "We're gonna start drawing nude figures soon, so either you're willing to strip for me or—"

You cut him off. "Are you gonna draw my face with it?"

"Eh, all I need to draw now is the body since we're done with portraits and—"

You cut him off again. "Then draw me."

"Wha—" Shidou was cut off once more. "You heard me. Draw me," you say, as if challenging him.

It earns a hearty laugh from him—one you haven't heard in a while. "You're saying you're gonna stand butt naked in front of me while I stare at you for an hour or two? You know how that sounds, right?"

"It sounds like you're gonna stare at me butt naked for an hour or two."

You were so shameless, he thought. But it was one of the many things he liked about you. He chuckled, amused by the way things turned. Well... what kind of artist would he be to turn down such an enticing muse?

Shidou let out a low whistle as soon as the last article of clothing met the floor. You used to do these drawing sessions in the library—when all he had to observe from you were innocent things like your eyes, your hands, your hair, and so on.

But now that you have to bare everything to him, you figured the only place to do it was at his dorm. It was like what you imagined: cluttered but artsy enough that you could let it pass.

You stood awkwardly in the middle, feeling a bit chilly with nothing to protect you. But you posed, placing a hand on your hip while looking off to the side. That way, there wouldn't be any awkward eye contact.

Shidou sat down on a stool and quickly got to drawing. He said nothing as his eyes constantly flitted between the paper and your body.

The first few minutes in—you became hyperaware of everything. The fact that he was seeing absolutely everything. The absurdity of this entire situation. But most of all, the way your body was reacting to his gaze.

From your peripheral, you could see his gaze linger a bit too long at times. He'd bite his lower lip every so often and it made you feel conscious. Was he doing that because he could see your nipples hardening due to the temperature? Maybe he noticed the way you'd subtly rub your thighs together?

Whatever it was—it had him clearing his throat and shifting in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

Around 15 minutes pass, until he finally spoke. "Feeling tired yet?" he asked without looking up from his paper. You figured he was applying the final touches at this point.

"Yeah. A bit."

He hummed in response. "Get comfortable on my bed then."

"What? On your bed? Now?"

Shidou looked up from his paper. At this point both of you were desensitized by your nakedness (or so you thought). "Yes. Now. I have to draw you in at least 3 poses."

Three?

You gulped. But, once more, pride creeps up. You can't just challenge him to draw you naked so boldly—only for you to back down now. You gathered yourself and sat on his bed which was only a few steps away.

"Go on. You can get comfortable," he encouraged.

So you did. You lied down on your side, propping your head up on your hand. The scene that had unfolded reminded you of that one Titanic scene: Rose sprawled out for Jack to draw.

Knowing that, the moment felt too intimate. But you sucked it up... even though there was an unwanted wetness forming at your core.

Shidou shifted in his seat again, lowering his paper on his lap. "Alright, keep that position," he said, a bit strained.

In this position, you couldn't look off to the side. Your only option for the next few minutes was the wall behind him or Shidou himself.

At some point, your eyes met. There was something in his eyes you've never seen before. It wasn't the usual focus he had; it was something else. Something more intense.

But the 2nd pose passes soon enough and you were down to your last.

"What should I do now?"

He sighed, looking over his current sketches. "Lemme think. I'm having a hard time getting the details right."

"Maybe it's because you're sitting so far away," you commented—not thinking about what it implied.

His eyes zeroed in on you again—caught by your words. You want him to come closer with you like that and him slowly losing his composure? You were playing a dangerous game and you had no idea yet.

Shidou finally stood up from his chair, walking over to the bed. You weren't sure if it was just your imagination, but he was hard. His length strained against his fitted pants. The sight had your mouth watering.

He sat down beside you, eyes never leaving yours. The atmosphere seemed charged with the way you two found yourselves slowly leaning into each other.

"You look great," he whispered. It was something he always said in these sessions. It was a rather simple compliment. But it held more weight now.

"Thanks," you meekly responded. Neither of you realized how fast he inched towards you. His lips were a breath away. You showed no signs of backing away, so he went in.

He pressed his lips on to yours. The kiss felt hungry—needy almost—like he was fighting off this urge for so long. Before you knew it, his weight pushed you down on the softness of his bed. His scent enveloped every sense, clouding your judgement.

Shidou pulled away, breathless. "Pose like this."

He sat upright, eyes raking over your body. This time, he didn't hide the way his gaze would linger on certain parts. His hands ran down your legs, admiring the softness of your skin.

Then, without warning, he pried your legs open. But you didn't stop him. His pink irises trailed down to your core, seeing how wet you've gotten. Shidou thought he was drooling.

"Fuck... I wish I could draw this."

You feel your chest tightening. "Why not?"

"And let everyone see this?" his fingers ghosted over the skin of your inner thigh. "No chance in hell. I want to be the only one to appreciate my muse."

He let his thumb swipe through your folds softly before pressing lightly into your clit, earning a mewl from you. He kept circling the sensitive nub as if in a trance.

"I know what I want the last pose to be," he says. You moan a little louder as he rubs your clit faster. "Want your last pose to be you all fucked out... think you can do that?"

Words got caught in your throat. But it hardly mattered. It didn't seem like he'd take 'no' for an answer anyway.

Things escalated quickly because you soon found his finger plunging in and out of your quivering hole. He made sure to curve it in a way—relentlessly hitting that gummy spot on your walls.

He added another finger, wanting to hear more of your breathless moans reverberating throughout his room. To hell with it if his neighbors heard. This was music—it was art in its purest form.

"Shit... might just cum in my pants from this." He almost did after you clenched down on his fingers, cumming for the first time today.

Even as you coat his digits with your essence, he keeps pushing his fingers in and out until the fluttering died down a bit. He pulled his sticky fingers out before having a taste, savoring every last bit.

He made quick work of his belt, pulling down his pants and letting his member out. Your eyes widened. Not only was his size impressive, but his tip was incredibly swollen and leaky—like he couldn't wait anymore.

Shidou exhaled deeply, feeling the chill of his room brush over the sensitive length. He locked eyes with you again. "Care to take care of me a bit? My hand hurts from all that drawing... and... well, you know what else."

Normally, you'd bite back at his teasing. But your mind was fuzzy. All you could do was wrap your fingers around his length, slowly tugging it at first. The pleasure he felt after being so hard for so long took the strength from him. He almost fell on top of you if it weren't for his thick arms supporting him from either side of you.

"C'mon... do it fucking faster," he ordered. You obeyed—jerking him off as fast as you can without hurting him. It wasn't long before his own hand wrapped around yours as he continued to fuck into your fist. Next thing you knew—hot ropes of cum painted your stomach.

Even he was in a daze as he observed a part of him stained you in such an intimate way. He slowly leaned in, his breath fanning your face. "Hey, can I paint you like this? You look even better with my cum all over you."

You let go of his semi-hard member, slowly tracing his muscles up until you cupped his cheek. Gently, you pulled him down for a searing kiss. It was more than enough for him to know that you too wanted more.

He became rougher—biting your lip and fighting your tongue for dominance. As you pulled away for air, Shidou moved quickly to straddle your upper body. He shamelessly took his cock and slapped it against your lips a couple of times.

"Gonna have to help me get hard again, sweets. Help me out, won't you?"

Though he didn't really give you time to respond as he invaded your mouth inch by inch. One hand held the headboard while the other supported your head. He rolled his hips slowly, gauging how much you can take in at a time.

But, clearly, he underestimated you when you gripped his hips and pulled him in yourself. You felt his cock spring back to life steadily. He pulled out his hardened shaft, letting you breathe. It was only now you realized the grin that crossed his face. He was enjoying this way too much.

He went back to hovering over you, his cock bouncing at every move he made. Your body was jelly at this point—not even a bit of resistance as he flipped you over so easily. He licked a long stripe from your lower back up until your nape. The fresh saliva combined with the chilly air made you shudder.

He carelessly lifted up your hips. With your cheek pressed into his pillows and your ass up in the air, he only got harder at the sight. He leaned down to be eye-to-eye with this so-called masterpiece, your cunt.

His nimble fingers toyed around with your soaked folds, chuckling to himself. "Man, I don't think I could ever capture something so damn beautiful."

He gave it a quick lick to test. "Well, unless you let me get familiar with her long enough." Another lick. "Maybe I can capture at least half of its beauty." Another lick. "Don't you think?"

A muffled sound was the only thing he got from you. "Yeah? You're gonna let me get to know her? As an artist, I'm overjoyed right now. Maybe I should show you."

And show he did.

He lapped up at your arousal, tongue licking long stripes each time. Your legs threatened to give out every time he flattened the pink muscle against your twitching hole. It didn't take long before he started darting in and out. Helpless groans filled his small dorm room.

Big calloused hands squeezed the flesh of your ass, making sure you stayed in place for him to enjoy. He was so messy... so so messy. Shidou suckled on your clit—really trying to coax another orgasm from you.

It didn't take much more for you to cum again, but this time all over his mouth. He happily took in everything, reaping the fruits of his labor.

He gave your ass one quick kiss as if to show his thanks. But he wasted no time lining up his painfully erect cock against your entrance. "Fuuuuck, I need to be inside you already or I'm actually going to explode," he muttered.

At first, it was just the tip. But it stretched you out so good already. The needy whine that escaped you was a testament to that. It only made him grip your hips tighter, surely leaving a mark for you to see tomorrow. Carefully, he pushed in more of his length, feeling every bump of your pussy engulf him.

"Shit. This is the stuff."

But he got impatient, shoving in the rest of his length without warning. It was so tight, so warm—too inviting for him to handle. His hands left your hips, opting to find support on the mattress instead. His thick arms caged you as his chest pressed against your back.

He continued to whisper the filthiest things in your ear, kissing your neck occasionally. But for as slow and sensual his voice may seem, his hips snapped with reckless abandon. He wasn't shy about giving you your third and, maybe, fourth orgasm of the day while chasing his own.

"You finally understand why I didn't want to ask you?"

"Yeah... I knew I was gonna end up fucking you real hard."

"But this is so much better than what I imagined."

His words brought you over the edge, cumming again. But the overstimulation rendered you thoughtless. The only thing on your mind was how good he was dicking you down.

"Fuck... Ryu!" you screamed. His grin only grew wider.

"That's it. Scream my fucking name. Let them hear it."

Your wanton moans encouraged him to go faster, mercilessly pistoning into you. It wouldn't be a surprise if you came another time on his cock.

Shidou harshly grabbed your tit, hoisting both of you up into a sitting position. This way, his cock reached even deeper into you. He kneaded your neglected breast while keeping you steady by the waist.

He showed no signs of slowing—even reaching down to play with your clit. A tear was rolling down your face from how sensitive he made you. But he quickly licked the salty tear off of the curve of your cheek.

He whispered softly, "Cum with me."

Just like the obedient muse that you were, you did. You clamped down on him as he shot rope after rope of gooey seed into you. Finally, he slowed down a bit, letting him empty himself in your pulsing cunt.

As you calmed down and he softened, he gently laid you back down on the soft mattress of his bed. He watched as his cum oozed out of you, smirking to himself.

"My best piece of work yet."

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note WHAT THE FUCK DID I WRITE DAWG I WAS SO ON EDGE THE WHOLE TIME HELP WHY IS IT SO FILTHY

[ang3ltine]

𝐋𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬 ꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ - 𝖿𝗍 𝖲𝖾 𝗆𝗂 𝗑 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (18+) MDNI!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you were getting ready to meet up with friends who you've missed so much and haven't see them in a while, Se mi on the other hand became a little jealous.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, dirty talk, fingering , mean dom! Se mi, slightly bratty sub!freader and implications of angst

" You're the worst "

You were a breathless mess, with mascara stained tears streaking down your rosy cheeks. The pretty little lace dress was stripped from your body and was thrown next to your vanity.

"Oh...? Trust me sweet thing , we're only just getting started "

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

It was around 7am in the morning as you started getting ready for an important date with your friends.

Lotte World usually has a long line soon after opening , so you guys decided to arrive there early by 9 am sharp.

You hadn't seen them for a while, so you were pretty excited. Today, you picked out a white lace dress with a layered skirt and puffed long sleeves with cuffs. It had a corset like design, and you paired the dress with thigh-high socks with trimmed lace and pale lavender ballerina sneakers.

"Hm? Why're you getting dolled up so early in the morning?" a pair of arms hugged your waist, the voice hoarse from sleeping. Se mi rests her chin atop your shoulder. She had messy bedhair that fell over her eyes, as she watched you intently while you applied the final step to your makeup.

Your sugary pink lipgloss that smells of Strawberries and Vanilla.

"Oh uhh well I'm going out with some friends today. I thought you already knew?", Se mi hummed to yourself as she thinks back to yesterday.

"Nope," giving an emphasis on the p, "I thought we we're gonna sleep in today...".

"I'm sorry Se mi but I really miss hanging out with my friends, I haven't seen them in so long," you say gently while you turn around to cup her cheeks and gingerly kiss her lips.

The kiss awakened something within her and she wanted to taste more.

"Can't you cancel and go another day?", the finger that was tracing the shape of your hip came up to swipe at your bottom lip.

"There's no reason for you to not spend time with me right now..", her voice going an octave deeper and you can see the pools in her eyes darkened with desire.

She had already reached for the back of your dress,undoing the neatly tied bows. You swiftly caught hold of her hands before she could fully take it off.

"Look babe, I'm really not in the mood for your jealousy act right now. I can't just cancel my plans just because you wanna satisfied your needs."

You had no intentios of snapping at her but before you could apologise, she hauls you over her shoulder and plops you down onto your shared bed. Making you sink into the plush pillows beneath you.

"Shit, please, I didn't mean to-" , Se mi shuts you up by locking her lips with yours. Nibbling on your bottom lip, making you whine. Almost drawing out some blood.

She carefully hikes the hem of the skirt up, revealing your dainty pink underwear.

"Oh? What do we have here..?", she drawls as her slender fingers crept over your throbbing cunt. You're not sure when it happened but you only grew more wet just by her painfully hot touch.

She gathers your slick, making it act as lube as she glides over your clit. You tried closing your legs cause you didn't want her to win so easily.

But she was too quick and pried them open and then reached for you phone from the dresser.

" You can't seriously be cancelling my plans just because you're horny are you??", you managed to breathe out as she types with one hand and skillfully undresses you with the other.

" I can and I will," she simply states after sending the message with a ping.

At this point you were oozing of annoyance as you tried covering yourself. There was no way you were gonna let her have you after ruining your planned day out.

"Aww is the princess upset? I'm sorry your highness but nows not the time to be pouty", Se mi mused while trying to get you to look at her. Refusing to look at her.

" Hey I'll make it up to you ok? Just work with me here" Just barely giving in you gave her a 'get on with it' look. Honestly it turned her on seeing you so mad.

Only making her want to ruin you even more.

Slipping past your underwear she teasingly ghosts the hole of your cunt, making you shiver with anticipation. Deep down you want this. You wanted her.

She smirked as she noticed your facial expression contour into pleasure and finally stuck her index finger inside. Deep enough for an audible squelch to echo in your bedroom.

You mewl as she groans at the feeling of your walls squeeze around her, hitting the spongy part just right that makes you go absolutely insane.

"Not so poised now are you?", she snickers while you roll your eyes at her comment. You grab the hem of her shirt and pull her into a seering hot kiss. You couldn't let her have all the fun.

Tugging at the ends you asked for permission to take it off. She tuts and guides your hand towards the nape of your neck.

"Uh I don't think so. A spoilt little brat like you doesn't deserve to be rewarded..", her voice going an octave deeper as she only became more amused at your reaction.

God you hated her.

An hour into the session, she has you in her lap as you lay your head on her shoulder. Already becoming exhausted from the constant thrusting from Se mi's slender fingers.

"Fuck", Se mi hissed as the grip on your hip tightened. Almost certainly leaving a bruise mark on your supple skin.

"Do that for me again love", you didn't have time to react as she pulls out tantalisingly slow and eagerly shoves it back in.

You keen, long and guttural as she continues hitting at your g-spot. Your pelvis unkowngly bucks into her hand, wanting more than you could take.

Se mi nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving a series of dark hickeys all over down your bare chest. Your nipples perked as she has one mound in her mouth and the other between her unoccupied fingers.

After a while she let's go with a pop and grabs your ass making you rise up and slam back down on her fingers. You cried out and instinctively reach up and tangled your fingers in her raven hair

"I" slam "Still hate you", you sneer slightly despite being in a euphoric state.

"Oh, rude aren't we?" She snickered as your breath caught in your throat, you would've retorted had she not stuck another finger in. Twisting and going deeper than before to make you more dumbed out.

A dirty cheater for sure.

"Ugh...!! I-- did you have to ruin my dress too-?", you managed to hiss out while you peered down at the smug women beneath you.

You were an absolute mess, mascara stained tears ran down your cheeks. The curls of your hair unravelled and cascaded down your shoulders and your perfect pink lips, swollen and slightly bleeding.

"Don't worry babe, I'll buy you a new one", she cooes while she moves a stray strand of hair away from your face.

It was one thing to fuck a pretty girl, but another thing to have a partner so smart yet bossy as you, being desperate for her to ruin your cunt.

"Shit babe!! Right there--!"

She had you fucking on her fingers for so long you couldn't even check the time on the clock, your vision blurred from your tears. At last you finally burst, unleashing a wave.

Helping you ride through your orgasm until the only thing heard in the room was lewd , wet noises coming from your sopping cunt.

Se mi, was stuffing your own juices back into you at this point, you couldn't really tell if it was that or her fingers were just too filling.

You both were panting, one more than the other. Se mi lifted you up, carrying you bridal style. She softly placed a kiss on your damp forehead as she makes her way down the corridor, heading for the washroom to give you a nice warm bath.

Your beautiful lace dress, discarded and long forgotten.

" Let's get you cleaned up princess" ♡

[diorstarkey]

Good Graces | 01

Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader | series masterlist.

summary; Being the son of the President of the United States came with its fair share of responsibilities, but none as infuriating as this. To secure his father's re-election, Rafe Cameron was forced to spend weeks under the same roof as the Princess of England. Diplomacy, they called it. Torture, he thought. The last thing he needed was a spoiled royal ruining his summer. But between gala events, unexpected conversations, and stolen glances, Rafe realized the line between hate and attraction was thinner than he'd ever imagined.

warnings; no smut. reader is two years younger than rafe. english is not my first language. the images are for the aesthetic. 'forced marriage au' by @rafecameronssl4t inspired<3

author's note; this is my first series!!! hope you liked it, reblogs and comments are appreciated<3

The presidential ballroom was impeccably decorated, a display of luxury that Rafe found unnecessary and pretentious. He leaned against one of the high columns, watching the political and royal elite move like chess pieces on a board. Ward has talking to the King, your father, about something he wasn't paying attention and didn't bother to pretend to care about.

The ride over had been torturous enough. For the thousandth time, Ward lectured him on how to behave in front of the Royal Family, reminding him—again— not to embarrass him in front of "the most powerful allies we could ever have."

Now, as he stood there, arms crossed and mind elsewhere, he saw you enter to the ballroom. Your entrance was impossible to ignore, your dress shimmering as if the stars themselves had been woven into it. Everything about you was poised, practiced and perfect, from the tilt of your chin to the way you greeted the room with that ever–diplomatic smile.

When your gaze finally met his, your expression shifted slightly, and an eyebrow arched. You approached with purpose, the polite smile on your face as cold as the champagne being served.

"You should bow", you said, your British accent cutting through the noise around them.

Rafe didn't move, instead crossing his arms tighter. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I'm royalty" you replied matter-of-factly, through your smile remained polite.

"And I'm the President's son" Rafe shot back, his tone dry. "I'd say that makes us even, wouldn't you?"

Your smile tightened ever so slightly, but you didn’t back down. “Are you always this charming, or is it just when you’re forced to interact with people far more important than you?”

"Only when those people are wearing a crown and an attitude." he countered, smirking.

Before you could retort, a voice interrupted.

“Ah, there you are, Rafe!” Ward’s tone was overly cheerful, drawing both your attention. “Why don’t you and the Princess take a photo together? A perfect opportunity for the press, don’t you think?”

You exchanged a quick, reluctant glance with Rafe, silently agreeing on one thing for the first time: this was going to be a long night.

Rage groaned internally, but this well-practiced fake smile was already in place. He extended an arm toward you in mock politeness, his smirk sharp enough to cut glass. "After you, Your Highness. Don't want to break royal protocol now, don't we?"

You rolled your eyes, but your own diplomatic farcade never faltered. "How thoughtful of you, Mr. Cameron."

As you both moved toward the photo backdrop, flashes from cameras already began to light up the room. Rafe leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “Smile big, Princess. The world’s watching.”

“I'd rather choke and believe me,” you replied through gritted teeth, “I’ve been smiling through worse company than yours.”

The photographer barked instructions as if posing next to someone you couldn’t stand wasn’t awkward enough. “Closer, please! Let’s see some warmth!”

Rafe, ever the troublemaker, slipped an arm lightly around your waist. “Anything for the press,” he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You stiffened at the gesture, your eyes shooting daggers at him. “Get your hand off me before I make you regret it,” you hissed quietly, though your face maintained an air of perfect grace for the cameras.

“Relax,” Rafe replied, his grin widening. “I’m just playing the role your family paid for.”

“Paid for?” you echoed, your smile faltering for just a fraction of a second.

“Sure. Isn’t that what this is? A transaction? You play nice with us so my dad looks good, and in return, we keep your little kingdom relevant.”

Your eyes narrowed dangerously, and for a moment, you wondered if anyone would notice if you stabbed him with your heel. “Your arrogance is truly astonishing.”

“And your entitlement is truly exhausting,” Rafe shot back, his voice just low enough to keep your verbal sparring private.

“Perfect!” the photographer called out, breaking the tension. “You two have such natural chemistry. Just lovely.”

You stepped away from Rafe the second it was socially acceptable, smoothing down the fabric of your dress as if even proximity to him had somehow wrinkled it.

“I need a drink,” you muttered under your breath.

“Make it a double,” Rafe quipped, already heading toward the bar.

A few minutes later, you found yourself stationed next to Rafe at a small table as your families chatted about alliances, trade agreements, and other topics that seemed infinitely dull. You weren’t listening, of course. You were too busy internally debating whether it was worth the scandal to excuse yourself entirely.

Rafe, meanwhile, was stirring the ice in his glass with a look that screamed disinterest. His posture was casual, legs stretched out slightly under the table as if he were deliberately trying to take up as much space as possible.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Immensely,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. “I especially enjoy sitting through conversations about ‘strengthening ties’ and ‘mutual benefits.’ Thrilling stuff, really.”

“Perhaps if you paid attention, you’d learn something,” you countered, keeping your voice neutral as possible.

“Perhaps if I wanted to listen to lectures, I’d go back to college,” he shot back.

You arched a brow. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? The prodigal son of the President, gracing the Ivy League with his presence. Did you even finish?”

Rafe’s smirk returned, though this time it was edged with something more genuine. “Touché, Princess. I did, actually. But I guess the finer details of my resume didn’t make it across the Atlantic.”

“Oh, I’m sure the tabloids covered it thoroughly,” you said. “Right next to your exploits at frat parties and your extensive collection of speeding tickets.”

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve done your homework. Impressive.”

“Unlike you,” you shot back, taking a sip of your champagne.

“Touché again,” he said, tipping his glass toward you in mock admiration. “You’re sharp. I’ll give you that.”

The conversation, sharp and biting as it was, didn’t go unnoticed. Across the room, Ward exchanged a glance with the King, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Is this really going to work?

DIORSTARKEY — do not plagiarize, translate or copy my work.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[stellerfly]

hi i want to actually add my own personal tidbit now so people stop thinking im some asshole. hi im tuna im a lesbian im 17 i am disabled and my favorite color is olive green. i really like to draw. my legs dont work right, and it can cause me serious back pain. i also have serious fatigue problems, wether from depression or something physical we aren't sure yet. Also i have hypophantasia which makes it difficult to draw from memory but idk. reference image.

i have a brother who has hands that don't work very well for a multitude of reasons, and he has more passion and drive for art than like anyone ever. every day they simply live and draw and it is amazing and i love them.

i don't like being told i don't know anything about disability or im ableist or i am a fake activist. i got told to go to a protest one time on this post, which was kind of funny because i recently couldnt go on a march because i couldn't walk far enough without my legs giving out. also im not an activist. i am an artist who is disabled and exists. i dont think i *need* to engage seriously with bad faith jerks.

nobody can draw exactly how they want to. that's the whole thing. but we try anyway. and i think it's awesome. i don't think art has a strict definition, because frankly, i don't care. i like art history a lot also, and i enjoy a lot of contemporary art (commonly referred to as "modern" art even though that's not what it's actually called), so im used to a lot of "well that's not art." and i think it's stupid every time. no exceptions. anyway. i don't know go create something no matter how small. or don't that's up to you.

"ai is making it so everyone can make art" Everyone can make art dipshit it came free with your fucking humanity

[demonic0angel]

DcxDp

Danny, after some encouragement (read nagging) from Jazz, decides to find a way to vent his trauma without it leading back to him. He's a bit hesitant about therapy due to Spectra, and there's only so much Jazz can do, especially since she's often busy with her classes over at Gotham University. So Danny decides to write a book under the pen name Danny Nightingale. The book quickly becomes a series of three so far called The Lab Accident Chronicles. He makes them about a boy named Neil who gets super powers in a generic lab accident and goes around fighting other super humans. The second book is about coping the trauma the ultimate enemy caused with changes, like Dan being Neil's superpowered older brother named Felix, Dani being a younger sister named Katey in the icu as a stand in for her destabilizing. There's also the older sister character based on Jazz named Amy. The third book is about coping with the trauma of the GIW vivisecting Danny with the stand in being an agency called The Anti Meta Foundation. The books become best sellers in a bunch of different cities, and the Justice League immediately can tell these books are trauma vents and are concerned.

Superman frowned at the books. “Is there a reason you believe that this is… real?”

Batman growled, “The level of detail within the novels are too… they’re too realistic. Something like this can only be written as a first hand account with personal experience.”

Green Lantern lifted the book with his ring, flipping through it rapidly. “I’m not too sure about this, Spooks. How are we sure that it’s just not someone with a good imagination? I mean, some of the things that happen in this novel are pretty… out of there. Like some sort of inter dimensional being capturing an entire town and being defeated by a teenager? His genocidal future self from another timeline coming to this world to kill him? Said teen also having a romance with almost all of the girls in his high school? Not that he described a lot but still…”

Batman pinched his nose. The first time Green Lantern actually read all of his needed materials and it was this…

Wonder Woman coughed and said, “Well, I believe you, Batman. If you think that there is a connection we can look into, it is no problem for us to give a quick check.”

Batman bowed his head to her. “Thank you.”

Superman nodded and said, “I agree. I trust you, Batman. So… where do we start?”

Batman flipped one of the books over and pointed to the name written under the drawing of a green, swirling portal. “Here. I say we start with the author. Daniel J. Nightingale.”

[p0orbaby]

I Feel Alive in the City That You Like

summary: who doesn’t like a bit of gossip?

warnings: none !

a/n: something short for our fav actress, with a little cameo from ale

word count: 1.5k

part 1

-

The bar is tucked away in a side street that smells of sea salt, diesel fumes, and hot pavement—the kind of place you only find by accident or through someone who’s “been coming here for years.” It’s called La Mala Vida, which feels pretentious in an almost charming way, like it’s trying to convince you it’s grittier than it actually is. Inside, the walls are painted a deep crimson that almost glows under dim lights. The ceiling is low enough to feel oppressive, and every table is crammed with people leaning too close, talking too loud, the air thick with cigarette smoke despite the supposed indoor ban.

Your friends are already at a corner booth when you arrive, practically shouting over the music—something vaguely Latin remixed with techno—and you spot Frances first, her sharp red lipstick and a blonde bob so precise it could have been cut with a laser. She’s dressed for drama, as always, in a vintage YSL blazer so cropped it’s practically a shrug, paired with leather trousers that look like they might have been painted on.

“We’ve been here for an hour,” she announces the moment you approach, her tone loud enough to carry over the din of the bar. “I thought you’d forgotten about us.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you reply, pulling off your jacket—a lightweight cashmere thing that you’d brought only because the evening forecast had mentioned a breeze. You hang it over the back of the chair, careful to keep it away from what looks suspiciously like a puddle of spilled sangria.

“She thought you were avoiding us,” Georgia chimes in, already halfway through her first glass of wine. She’s dressed in an oversized white button-down that she’s knotted at the waist, paired with frayed denim shorts and silver hoop earrings big enough to be used as hula hoops. The effect is effortlessly cool, though you know for a fact she spent 45 minutes in front of a mirror before leaving her hotel room.

“I don’t avoid people I love,” you say, sliding into the seat between them.

“Except Alexia,” Frances says, her grin razor-sharp. “When she’s too far away for you to stalk”

“Frances,” you warn, though your voice lacks any real edge.

“Oh, please. Don’t pretend we haven’t all read the headlines. ‘Football Star’s Mystery Lover’—that was my personal favourite. Or was it the one about how you’ve been jetting between continents like a lovesick heiress?”

“Stop,” you groan, but Georgia is already laughing, her wine glass wobbling dangerously in her hand.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “We didn’t fly all the way to Barcelona just to interrogate you. But we will be taking the opportunity since we’re here”

“You didn’t fly here to see me at all,” you point out. “You’re here for Georgia’s ridiculous ‘self-discovery retreat’”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Georgia protests, though her tone suggests she knows exactly how ridiculous it is. “It’s wellness. I’ve been stressed”

“You live in a Soho loft and do Pilates every morning,” Frances deadpans. “What could you possibly be stressed about?”

“Life,” Georgia says, as though this explains everything.

Frances rolls her eyes, but before she can respond, the waiter arrives to take your drink order. You glance at the menu briefly before asking for a vodka lime and soda.

“Make it a double,” Frances adds for you. “She’s going to need it”

As soon as the waiter disappears, Frances leans forward, her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands like a particularly nosy house cat.

“So,” she says, drawing out the word. “How’s Alexia?”

“She’s fine,” you reply, keeping your tone deliberately neutral.

“Fine?” Georgia echoes, clearly unimpressed. “That’s all we get?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” Frances says, her grin widening. “Something juicy. Like how she’s already convinced you to move here and start a life of domestic bliss”

“Or how she’s secretly awful in bed,” Georgia adds.

“She’s not awful in bed,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, and both of them pounce on the admission like hungry wolves.

“Ah-ha!” Frances crows, pointing at you. “See, now we’re getting somewhere”

“Stop being so tight-lipped,” Georgia says. “You’re glowing. Look at you. That’s post-orgasm skin”

“Stop it,” you hiss, though your face is already burning.

“Don’t be shy,” Frances says, leaning back in her seat with a satisfied smirk. “We’re your friends. We’re just curious.”

“She’s curious,” Georgia corrects. “I just like making you uncomfortable”

“Why do I hang out with you?” you mutter, though the question is purely rhetorical.

“Because we’re fabulous,” Frances says.

“And because we rescheduled our chemical peel to spend time with you,” Georgia adds. “Now, come on. Give us something. What’s she like when the lights are off? Or on, we won’t judge”

“Jesus Christ,” you groan, covering your face with your hands.

“Fine,” Frances says, waving a hand dismissively. “If you don’t want to talk about that, tell us what you two do when you’re not shagging”

“Normal couple things,” you say.

“Like what?” Georgia presses.

“Like… cooking together,” you offer.

“Boring,” Frances declares.

“Or watching TV”

“Also boring”

“Taking her dog for walks?”

Frances sighs dramatically, as though your relationship is personally offending her. “You’re no fun”

“I’m plenty of fun,” you argue.

“Prove it,” Georgia says.

“How?”

“Call her,” Frances says, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Right now”

“She’s busy,” you protest, though your hand is already hovering over your phone.

“She’s not too busy for you,” Georgia says in a sing-song voice, grinning like the devil.

Frances leans back in her seat, folding her arms. “Prove it. Call her. Right now. Or we’ll start making assumptions, and you know we don’t hold back”

“Fine,” you snap, swiping your phone off the table. “But if she gets annoyed, I’m blaming both of you”

“Blame away,” Frances replies, looking positively gleeful.

You don’t bother stepping outside for privacy—this is what they wanted, after all. The bar’s music fades to the background as you scroll for her name, your thumb hesitating for a brief moment before you press call.

She picks up on the second ring.

“Hola,” she says, her voice warm and slightly hushed, like she’s leaning in closer to the phone to hear you better.

“Hi,” you reply, already feeling the tension ease at the sound of her voice. “What are you doing?”

“Dinner with the team,” she says. “What about you?”

“Out with Frances and Georgia,” you say, shooting them a look across the table. “They’re being infuriating, as usual.”

Alexia chuckles softly, and even though the distance between you stretches across an ocean, it feels like she’s right there. “What did they do now?”

“They’re insisting I call you so they can be nosy,” you admit, ignoring the way Frances pretends to yawn theatrically beside you.

“Well, I hope I’m living up to the hype,” Alexia says, the smile evident in her tone.

Frances immediately leans forward, practically yelling into the phone. “She’s not doing you justice, Alexia! We’ve heard nothing spicy”

You slap a hand over the phone’s speaker. “Frances!”

Alexia’s laugh is louder now, melodic and unrestrained. “Is that Frances?”

“And Georgia,” you say, glaring at them both as they descend into a fit of giggles.

“Hi, Alexia!” Georgia shouts, waving as if Alexia could somehow see her through the phone. “How do you feel about long-distance frustration?”

“Ignore them,” you say, lowering your hand from the speaker, though Frances has already leaned halfway across the table.

“Alexia, quick question,” she calls into the receiver. “On a scale of one to ten, how insufferable is she as a girlfriend?”

“Frances!”

“Eleven,” Alexia replies without missing a beat, her voice warm with amusement.

Frances clutches her chest in mock offense. “A woman with taste. I approve”

Georgia’s cackling now, practically falling off her chair. “She’s funnier than you. I like her more already”

“Okay, this was a mistake,” you mutter, though you can’t help the way your lips curl into a smile.

“You’re handling it well,” Alexia teases. “And you haven’t hung up yet, so maybe you secretly enjoy it”

“Maybe I just like hearing your voice,” you counter, softer this time.

There’s a slight pause, just long enough for Frances and Georgia to exchange exaggerated ooohs like a pair of primary school children.

“I miss you,” Alexia says, the sincerity in her voice cutting through their antics.

“I miss you too,” you reply quietly, forgetting for a moment that you aren’t alone.

Frances doesn’t forget. She leans so close you can feel her breath on your shoulder. “Tell her you love her!” she stage-whispers, loud enough to draw stares from the next table over.

You shove her back, pressing a palm to your forehead. “I’m hanging up now”

“Coward,” Frances mutters, smirking.

“Goodnight,” Alexia says, and you can hear the smile in her voice.

“Goodnight,” you reply, the word carrying more weight than usual.

When you finally set your phone down, Frances and Georgia are watching you like vultures circling a carcass.

“Admit it,” Frances says, taking a triumphant sip of her drink. “You’re smitten”

“Completely pathetic,” Georgia adds.

You don’t even bother denying it. Instead, you flag the waiter down for another drink, shaking your head as they burst into fresh fits of laughter.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

“jay—” 

the sentence you somehow thought you could form dies in your throat as your breath shudders in your lungs. 

“yes, my love?” your roommate, jason todd, looks up from where he’s happily situated: between your thighs. his attention now divided, you’re mercifully granted a break. you gulp for air, your hands over your face. 

“i just need—” 

“what? what do you need?” he cuts you off, impatient that you’re pulling him away from what he’s been so dutifully working on for probably an hour..if not more. “you want me to stop?” jason teases, rubbing a warm, calloused hand over the meat of your thigh. “does it feel too good?”

“w-what?” confused, you shake your head. “i don’t—”

“i think you need someone to worry about you for once, huh?” he raises an eyebrow at you, causing your cheeks to heat as your hands fly back up to your face. “what, you don’t agree?” 

you open your mouth to argue, then close it. then open it again, thinking. 

“mm. that’s what i thought.” your roommate smirks at you, turning his gaze back onto the part of you that’s still pulsing with heat from his ministrations. his chin’s slick from how much time he’s spent tongue deep in your pussy. 

but he wants more. 

wants to feel your hands in his hair again, gripping as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you. wants to feel your thighs tight around his head, your self-control wavering as your back arches off the mattress, again and again. 

wants nothing but to breathe you in as he presses feathery light kisses to your puffy clit, watching you squirm from the barely-there pressure of his lips. 

wants you, all of you, the happy, sad, messy, angry, loving, caring, beautiful you,

—but jason: dead and revived, beaten and bruised, silent and steadfast, your jason, can’t always put that into words, can he?

so he wants you to feel it, really feel it:

in the way he pats your thigh lovingly as he runs his tongue through your folds, over and over. 

in the way he carries you to bed when you fall asleep on him in the living room. kisses your forehead as he tucks you in.

in the way he brushes your hair out of your face before he grabs you by the cheeks and your lips meet. 

in the way he knows your favorite, well, everything. 

in the way he’s always holding your hand when the two of you walk anywhere.

in the way his pupils always widen, huge and blown out, when he looks at you, making your heart pound in time with his as he holds your gaze. 

in the way he washes your hair in the shower, 

makes your coffee in the mornings, 

buys and arranges flowers for you,

wears that cologne you like,

knows the sidewalk rule, 

kisses your forehead,

laughs with you,

smirks at you,

loves you.

and yet you two are.. 

you two, and you both worry. 

of course, you both worry. 

he worries he’s not enough for you—

his lifestyle, his history..how could he ever be what you need? how could he give you the life you deserve?

—and you worry you’re a little too much sometimes. 

a man like that? with his past, his present? and yet he takes care of you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. like he could do it in his sleep. 

all you know is that he doesn’t have to worry, shouldn’t have to, because whatever, or however much he thinks he wants something, you want it just as much..if not more. 

and what you want next? to make it official? to really, truly, make him your jason?

well. 

how could he refuse you?

[contact-guy]

okay I wanna talk about writing this a little bit!

-In the last lines of the comic, Holmes is recalling this conversation.

-There's a part in Granada Holmes (The Hound of the Baskervilles) where Holmes takes off his glove to shake Watson's hand. There was something so intimate about it, I wanted to capture that when he writes the letter.

-For that drawing of Watson standing looking out at the Falls, I kept thinking of a line from Lord of the Rings. It's when Samwise thinks that Frodo has died. He leaves the body, determined to carry on his mission, but stops for a moment to look back. "He peered out at that high stony place where all his life had fallen in ruin." There may be one or two commonalities between the things I like okay?!??

-Also for that drawing, that canon line "who was to tell us what had happened then?" shook me to my core when I first read this story. I knew I had to work it in somehow. What happens to the narrator when his protagonist dies?

-More canon lines - Moriarty talking about an "engine tearing itself to pieces" and "the days of the great cases have passed" are things that Holmes says himself.

-There's an instinct to drawing comics that makes me love making them more than any other medium. When a character is going to go through something complex, first I make sure that I can draw them experiencing that emotion. If I can't draw it, then there's probably something wrong and I need to write a bit more. Here are some sketches I did as I was ideating (which ended up being used in the comic):

-I was agonizing a few months ago about how to do this story, how to bring Holmes to the brink of the cliff and then bring him back. Sometimes when I'm stuck I just freewrite to see what comes up, trying to step through things from the character's perspective and see what makes sense. Here's some of this that I kinda think slaps:

When he survives…

He didn’t expect it. He was fully prepared to die. And he almost steps over that cliff, he does. Because he’s written himself into the end of the story. He’s written John the perfect ending.

But he doesn’t. Some animal part of his starved and neglected body, the part that kept him from falling in the first place, that kept him fighting. Is it the part that was loved and nurtured by watson? Some lingering love keeps him from following Moriarty. Hands that touched him in tenderness and love, now holding him back.

So everything since then has been trying to portray that in the most effective way possible. thank you for reading!

THE FINAL PROBLEM - part 9

This update comes with a content warning, which you can read here if you're so inclined.

THE FINAL PROBLEM - part 9 of a few more - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6 - part 7 - part 8.

This is in the Watson's Sketchbook series!

[meazalykov]

pick a side

gio queiroz x uswnt!reader

summary: you feel forced to pick a side during the national break

warnings: swearing, google translated language

this match has been fast-paced.

the stands in this los angeles stadium are packed, the crowd yelling with excitement as the game nears its conclusion. you’ve kept your head down for most of the match, focusing on your role, finding your rhythm, and working to break through brazil’s backline. 

the banter on the pitch has been light, even playful at times. you’ve exchanged a few teasing smiles and glances with gio, your girlfriend of eight months, but nothing that would draw attention… at least, that was the plan.

it’s the 87th minute now, and the game feels like it’s teetering on the edge. tied 1-1, neither side is giving an inch. the sun has dipped low, painting the sky a hazy orange as the stadium lights flicker on. the ball pings around midfield, and then lindsey charges in, her presence commanding, as always for someone who needs to fulfill a captain role. 

gio had the ball, but lindsey steps in hard on gio, winning the ball but making contact that’s just a bit too aggressive. you see gio stumble back, not falling but she almost did. the brazilian’s face twisting in frustration as she plants her feet.

lindsey straightens, turning to walk away, but gio isn’t letting it slide. 

"que porra é essa?" gio snaps, her voice carrying just enough to draw a few heads. you recognize the tone immediately.. sharp, challenging. your eyes widen from forty yards away. 

lindsey pauses, pivoting back to face her, jaw tight, eyes narrowing. 

"you got something to say?" lindsey shoots back, her voice calm but laced with that signature edge. she’s keeping it together.. for now. you can see her fingers curl slightly, her composure fraying just enough to be noticeable.

gio waves her hand dismissively, a clear gesture for lindsey to back off. 

"fuck off," gio mutters, shaking her head. the motion isn’t aggressive, but the intent is clear, and you know lindsey well enough to know it’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

lindsey takes a step closer, her head tilting slightly, her voice dropping lower but losing none of its sharpness. 

"what’s your problem?"

you instinctively start to move toward them, but trinity’s hand stretches out across your chest before you can take a step. 

"don’t," she warns, her voice quiet but firm. 

"i think you should stay out of it luv."

you glance at trinity, your brows furrowing in silent protest, but you know she’s right. lindsey doesn’t need you stepping in, and gio doesn’t need you choosing sides.. not here, not now. 

that doesn’t stop the unease curling in your stomach as you watch the exchange unfold.

gio plants her hands on her sides, her expression unwavering, meeting lindsey’s glare with equal intensity. they’re inches apart now, voices rising just enough for the crowd closest to the pitch to pick up on the spat.

this is when sonnet, and angelina from the other team start to run up and break things apart before they go too far. your heart pounds as you stay rooted in place, the tension crackling like static in the air. 

your position at striker suddenly feels miles away. you can’t hear every word, but the tone is unmistakable.. neither of them is backing down. of course not, gio had never broken down from a challenge. even when you played against atletico madrid in barcelona, your club, she was the last person to accept defeat for the sake of her own ego.

you feel your hands ball into fists at your sides, every instinct screaming for you to step in, to diffuse this before it escalates further. 

trinity’s hand presses against your shoulder again, her voice barely above a whisper. 

"i know you want to help your girlfriend and linds but it’s not your fight." you nod reluctantly, your eyes flickering between lindsey and gio. 

you just hope neither of them crosses a line they can’t step back from.

your hopes go to waste. one second, lynn is stepping in, arms raised in a gesture to calm things down, her voice steady as she tries to play the mediator. the next, gio jerks back, her expression shifting sharply, mistaking lynn’s approach as something hostile or aggressive. 

“don’t touch me!” gio exclaims, her voice cutting through the noise, and it’s like a spark to dry grass. the reaction is instant. a few of the brazilian players rush in, their protective instincts kicking in as they misinterpret lynn’s movement. 

your eyes widen, heart pounding in your chest as the tension erupts into chaos. voices overlap, sharp and heated in english, portuguese, and even a bit of spanish. players from both teams converge, trying to either escalate or diffuse the situation. you see gabi arguing with lynn, their gestures animated. lindsey steps forward again, her captain’s armband visible as she squares up, shouting something you can’t quite make out.

the ref’s whistle blows, shrill and piercing, but it barely cuts through the commotion. she rushes into the fray, trying to separate players, her face stern and authoritative, but it’s clear she’s losing control of the situation.

you feel rooted in place, torn between stepping in and staying back. trinity’s hand is still lightly on your arm, a silent reminder to hold your position. beside you, sophia jogs up, her brow furrowed in confusion. 

“are they still upset about the gold medal game?” she asks, glancing toward the brazilian players who seem particularly agitated.

trinity lets out a soft, almost incredulous giggle, but you shut it down quickly, your voice firm. 

“no, they’ve moved on.” you mean it, mostly. gio and the others had congratulated you last year, telling you the better team had won, and there was no lingering bitterness.. at least, none you’d picked up on.

watching the scene unfold, it’s hard not to wonder if the loss still stings, if the weight of that match lingers in moments like this, where tempers flare and emotions run high. your eyes dart to gio, who’s still gesturing animatedly at lynn, her voice raised, though the words are lost in the noise. 

a minute after lynn came through and.. attempted.. to break things up, the collective retreat is almost comical, like someone hit an invisible pause button. players from both teams step back, hands raised or resting on their hips, the tension diffusing in unison as if they all silently agreed this wasn’t worth escalating further. 

the ref stands at the center of it all, her whistle still gripped tightly, her face a mix of frustration and exhaustion. 

you watch as she raises two yellow cards, one in each hand..one for lindsey, one for gio. it’s not exactly shocking. both of them are fiery, unafraid to stand their ground, and, honestly, it could’ve been worse. 

still, you can’t help but roll your eyes, letting out a soft exhale as you shake your head. you mutter to yourself, “of course.”

as you jog back to your position, your gaze instinctively shifts to gio. she’s standing about twenty feet away, her expression unreadable at first. then, she meets your eyes, and you see it..a look that’s part curious, part questioning. it’s subtle, but you know her well enough to catch it: 

are you on my side?

you bite back a groan, unwilling to let her pull you into whatever narrative is brewing in her mind. instead, you mouth the words, exaggerating them just enough so she can catch them from the distance: 

we will talk about it later. 

you emphasize the later, hoping she understands there’s a time and place, and it’s definitely not here.

gio smirks faintly, her head tilting as if to say, fine. 

the game resumes, but not without a sigh from almost everyone on the pitch. the board goes up at the 90th minute, signaling 8 extra minutes. you don’t even have to ask; you know those minutes are for the chaos lindsey and gio stirred up. 

"unbelievable," you mutter under your breath, repositioning yourself and shaking off the lingering tension. this match just couldn’t end quietly, could it?

finally, the final whistle comes which brings a sense of relief for you, the tension melting away as both teams fall into the familiar post-match routine. 

players exchange handshakes, some linger to chat with club teammates, and there’s an easy camaraderie between many of the players despite the earlier chaos. you weave through the crowd, smiling and greeting a few friends, like angelina and gabi, catching up briefly before your focus shifts to the stands.

you’re about to walk over to greet the fans when a hand gently catches your arm, stopping you in your tracks. the touch is familiar, as is the soft voice that follows. 

“can we talk? i don’t think i’ll be able to wait until we’re back in spain.”

you turn around, meeting gio’s eyes. there’s a softness there now, a sharp contrast to the fire she showed on the pitch earlier. you give her a small smile, trying to keep things light. 

“can we swap?” you ask, tugging lightly at her jersey… her lips curve into a smirk, but she doesn’t let you off that easily. 

“you’re avoiding the conversation,” she says, the teasing lilt in her voice clear.

“i am,” you admit, not bothering to deny it. 

“because that moment was ridiculous, gio.”

she chuckles softly but doesn’t argue as you both swap jerseys, the smooth motion practiced after years of playing. you pull on her green brazilian home kit while she slips into your blue popsicle-colored away jersey, your name standing out boldly on the back.

“i’m sorry,” gio starts, her tone quieter now as she rubs her hand gently on your shoulder.

 “i just thought you’d be on my side. you saw how your captain pushed me right before.”

you sigh, meeting her gaze evenly. 

“i know. it was a wrong move, but you know it didn’t have to escalate that far.”

gio nods, her head dipping slightly.

 “i know, and i’m sorry, baby.”

the corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk, though you try to keep it stern. 

“gio…” your tone is warning, but playful. “there’s a time and a place.”

she exhales dramatically, though her smile doesn’t falter. 

“again, i’m sorry. i know you’re on her side—”

“i’m not on lindsey’s side,” you cut in quickly. 

“in fact, i think she might talk to me about this since, you know, i’m your girlfriend and all.”

gio winces slightly but recovers with a sheepish grin. 

“again, i’m sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” you tell her firmly, your tone light but sincere.

“there’s nothing to apologize to me about.”

“fine,” she relents, her smirk growing as she steps closer and pulls you into a hug. the warmth of her embrace melts away any lingering frustration, and just as you’re starting to relax, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“i know you’re on my side, as much as you don’t want to admit it.”

masterlist

[littlelamy]

𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓵𝔂!𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓼𝓴𝓼 𝓳𝓳 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓽𝓸𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓮𝓻

credits to @parfaitsinsatiable for the photos 🥰 and @rafesplaymate for inspo 🤭💗

The night wrapped the world in its fervent, pulsating energy that buzzed against the skin. JJ lounged like sin itself, the golden tips of his tousled blond hair gleaming under the last blush of the setting sun. His battered lawn chair creaked beneath him, a half-empty beer dangling lazily from his fingers. When you approached, his eyes flicked upward, a slow smirk tugging at his lips—hungry, cocky, and just shy of dangerous.

“Got a minute?” you murmured, halting within arm’s reach. Your sundress swayed around your thighs, teasing glimpses of soft skin with each shift of the breeze. His eyes swept lower, a flicker of heat sparking in his gaze before it returned to your face.

“Depends,” he drawled, voice heavy with mischief. “What’s the catch?”

You arched a brow, stepping closer, your perfume wafting between you like a promise. “You trust me, don’t you?” The words slipped from your lips honey-sweet, but with a razor-sharp edge that made him sit up a little straighter.

“Not even a little,” he shot back, though his grin widened, his tongue brushing the corner of his mouth. “What’s this about?”

Leaning down, you let your lips hover near his ear, the heat of your breath ghosting over his skin. “I need your help,” you whispered, low and silken, the kind of tone meant to tangle thoughts and dissolve resistance. “With something only you can do.”

His cocky demeanor faltered, intrigue darkening the blue of his eyes. “What kind of something?”

You let a small, calculated pause hang between you, biting your lower lip just enough to draw his gaze. “I want you to take pictures of me,” you said, your voice dropping into a whisper that left no room for misunderstanding.

“Pictures?” He blinked, straightening in his chair. “What, like for your Instagram?”

“Not quite.” You let the words linger, watching his brows knit as realization crept in. Then, with deliberate slowness, you ran your hands down your hips, drawing attention to the way the fabric clung to your curves. “Something raw. Something... sensual.”

His jaw dropped, and for a moment, he just stared, torn between disbelief and the unmistakable pull of desire. “You’re fucking with me,” he finally muttered, though the words lacked conviction.

You laughed—a soft, teasing sound that had him shifting in his seat. “Dead serious,” you said, stepping forward until the space between you was a whisper. The neckline of your dress dipped as you folded your arms, pressing your chest forward ever so slightly. His eyes flickered downward before snapping back up, the tips of his ears turning a satisfying shade of red.

“It’s for a magazine,” you continued, your voice steady, dripping with daring. “An amateur feature. I need someone who can make me look... unforgettable.”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair as if trying to ground himself. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re scared,” you taunted, letting the corner of your mouth curl into a wicked grin. “Come on, JJ. I’ve seen the way you look at me. Don’t tell me you’re not dying to see what’s underneath.”

He groaned, the sound low and guttural, raking a hand over his face. “Fuck, princess. Fine. But if this gets me killed—”

“It’ll be worth it,” you cut in, already turning to walk away. The sway of your hips, the whisper of your dress brushing against your thighs—it was an invitation he couldn’t refuse.

The air in the bedroom was molten, heavy with the charged tension between you and JJ. His camera hung from his neck, momentarily forgotten as his eyes roamed your body, drinking in the sight of you sprawled across the bed. The sheets beneath you clung to your curves, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin catching the soft light you’d set up just right.

You arched your back, letting your legs fall open slightly, enough to tempt but not enough to reveal everything. The barest glimmer of slickness was visible between your thighs, and you caught the way JJ’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, the camera in his hands trembling just enough to betray him.

“Focus, JJ,” you teased, your voice low, throaty, the kind of tone that crawled under the skin and settled in the gut. “You’re supposed to be the professional here.”

He muttered something under his breath, shaking his head as if to clear it, lifting the camera to his face. But the viewfinder didn’t hide the way his hands shook, the way his breaths came faster, harsher.

You adjusted your pose, running a hand over your stomach, up to your breast, fingers brushing your nipple until it hardened visibly. “Come on,” you whispered, your voice dropping to a sultry purr. “You can’t capture this kind of heat just by watching.”

“Y/N,” he growled, his voice strained. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Am I?” You bit your lip, shifting your hips slightly, letting your thighs part further. The faint scent of your arousal reached him, and his breath hitched audibly. “I thought you were supposed to direct me. Tell me what to do.”

His grip on the camera tightened. “I... Fuck. Fine. Arch your back more. Turn your head—yeah, like that.”

You obeyed, but the look in your eyes as you glanced back at him wasn’t submission. It was challenge, fire, daring him to go further. You trailed your fingers down your body again, letting them slip between your thighs this time, brushing over your clit with the lightest touch that had you shivering.

“JJ,” you murmured, your gaze locking on his. “Come here.”

He hesitated, his jaw tight, the camera nearly slipping from his fingers. “This isn’t—”

“Do you trust me?” you interrupted, throwing his own words back at him. When he didn’t move, you pushed yourself up slightly, propped on one elbow, your fingers still teasing slow, lazy circles over your swollen clit. “Come on. I know you want to. Don’t make me beg.”

Something in him snapped. He set the camera down, his movements jerky, almost frantic as he crossed the small distance to the bed. His hands hovered uncertainly over your thighs, his eyes darting to your face for permission, for some sign he wasn’t stepping over a line.

You tilted your hips up slightly, pressing your hand against his, guiding him. “Here,” you whispered, breath catching as his fingers brushed against your slick folds. “Rub me, JJ. Right here.”

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, his fingers finding your clit, tentative at first, then firmer as he watched your reaction. Your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips as he circled the sensitive nub, his touch unsure but oh so eager.

“That’s it,” you breathed, your hand gripping his wrist, urging him to keep going. “Don’t stop. Just like that.”

His free hand gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white as he worked you with an intensity that left no doubt how badly he wanted you. His breaths were ragged, his eyes glued to the way your hips bucked against his hand, your arousal coating his fingers.

“Jesus, baby,” he murmured, his voice rough and reverent. “You’re so fucking wet.”

You let out a low, throaty laugh, your eyes half-lidded as you met his gaze. “This is what you do to me, JJ. Now keep going. Don’t you dare stop until I’m shaking.”

JJ’s fingers moved with growing confidence, the pads of them slick and gliding over your clit with an addictive rhythm that sent sparks shooting through your core. Your breaths grew heavier, more ragged, a soft gasp escaping every time he hit just the right spot. He watched you intently, his face flushed, lips parted as though he could feel every tremor coursing through your body.

"Faster," you whimpered, your hips arching off the bed, chasing the pressure that built steadily inside you. "Don't hold back, JJ. Give it to me."

His jaw clenched, a curse slipping past his lips as he obeyed, his thumb pressing against your clit now, working it in small, precise circles. He slid his other hand up your thigh, gripping the soft flesh as though to anchor himself. The room filled with the slick, obscene sounds of his fingers against you and your increasingly desperate moans.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this," he muttered, his voice rough, almost hoarse. "Completely spread out, soaking wet for me. Christ, pretty girl, you're gonna kill me."

Your body tightened, the coil inside you winding so tightly it was almost unbearable. You reached out, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and yanking him closer until his face was just inches from yours. His breath mingled with yours, hot and heavy, and the raw hunger in his eyes was almost enough to tip you over the edge.

"Then die happy," you murmured, your voice trembling but still commanding, your nails digging into his arm as his fingers worked you harder, faster, dragging you to the brink. "Make me cum, JJ. Make me scream your fucking name."

And he did.

Your orgasm tore through you, a white-hot explosion of pleasure that left you crying out, your back arching violently off the bed. "Fuck, JJ! Oh my god!" Your thighs clenched around his hand, trapping him there as your body shook, wave after wave crashing over you. You were vaguely aware of his low groan, his fingers still moving, drawing out every last tremor until you were a trembling, breathless mess beneath him.

When the intensity finally subsided, you slumped back against the bed, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your skin flushed and glowing. JJ sat back on his heels, staring down at his slick fingers like he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. His gaze shifted to you, his expression torn between awe and pure, unfiltered desire.

You reached out, catching his wrist and bringing his hand to your lips. Without breaking eye contact, you licked his fingers clean, tasting yourself on him, watching as his pupils blew wide with lust.

"Your turn," you whispered, your voice still shaky but dripping with mischief. "I think it's only fair I get to make you scream next."

part 2

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Family x Fem!OC

You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (aged up), Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Selina Kyle, Kate Kane, Helena Bertinelli, Jean-Paul Valley & Terrence McGinnis

Jason Todd aka. Red Hood

- You never considered yourself clumsy, not until Jason Todd entered the room. The moment your eyes lock on his, it’s like gravity shifts, pulling you toward him, and your focus narrows to the way his leather jacket hugs his broad shoulders or the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips. He notices everything, and of course, he notices when you trip, your foot catching on seemingly nothing. His reflexes are quicker than your embarrassment, and his arm snakes around your waist before you can hit the ground. “Careful there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice a mix of amusement and something softer.

- Jason’s protectiveness is as much a part of him as his defiant streak. You’ve seen it in the way he shields innocents during fights, his body a barrier against danger, and you feel it now in the way his grip lingers on your waist. There’s a flicker of concern in his blue eyes, hidden behind his teasing tone. He’s rough around the edges, sure, but his heart—scarred and bruised as it may be—beats fiercely for the people he cares about. It makes your own heart race, knowing he might feel the same for you.

- Later, when you’re alone together, he teases you relentlessly. “Couldn’t take your eyes off me, huh?” he says, leaning casually against his motorcycle. His words are laced with that trademark Jason bravado, but his gaze betrays him, searching your face for something—confirmation, maybe, that he’s not imagining the spark between you two. You blush, stumbling over a response, and he chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. It’s moments like these where you catch glimpses of the boy behind the Red Hood, the one who yearns for connection even as he tries to keep the world at arm’s length.

- When the teasing subsides, Jason’s honesty takes you by surprise. “You’re different,” he admits, his voice quieter, more vulnerable. “Not many people can look past the... damage.” He’s staring at the ground now, his usual confidence momentarily absent. You reach out, your hand brushing his, and he looks up, startled but hopeful. “I see you,” you say softly, and it’s enough to draw a rare, genuine smile from him—a smile meant only for you.

Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing

- There’s a certain grace to Dick Grayson that makes it impossible to look away. He moves through the world like it’s his stage, every step purposeful, every smile dazzling. So, when you find yourself watching him during one of your shared missions, it’s no wonder you don’t notice the uneven pavement beneath your feet. You stumble, arms flailing, but before you can fall, he’s there, his hands steadying you as if you weigh nothing. “Whoa, easy there,” he says, his tone light and teasing, but the way his hands linger on your arms tells another story.

- Dick has always been the heart of the Bat-family, his warmth a stark contrast to Gotham’s cold. You feel it now in the way he checks on you, his blue eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. “You okay?” he asks, his voice softening. You nod, unable to speak under his intense gaze, and he smiles that brilliant, boyish smile that’s made countless hearts flutter. “Good,” he says, his thumb brushing briefly against your arm before he steps back, giving you space but not before stealing another glance.

- The moment doesn’t end there. Later, when the mission is done, he finds you, his usual playful demeanor tinged with something deeper. “You know,” he begins, leaning against the wall beside you, “you could’ve just asked for my attention. No need to risk bodily harm.” His words are light, but his expression is anything but, his gaze lingering on you in a way that makes your pulse quicken. He’s always been a flirt, but this feels different—more genuine, more vulnerable.

- “You have a way of distracting me, too,” he confesses after a moment, his voice dropping to a near whisper. It’s a rare moment of honesty from someone who’s so adept at hiding behind charm. “I don’t mind, though,” he adds, his smile soft, almost shy. Your breath catches, and for a moment, it feels like the world fades away, leaving only the two of you. It’s in that moment you realize that behind the acrobatics and the bravado, Dick Grayson is as captivated by you as you are by him.

Tim Drake aka. Red Robin

- Tim Drake is observant to a fault, which is probably why you don’t realize he’s already noticed your lingering stares. You’re too caught up in the way his brow furrows in concentration or the way his lips quirk up when he figures something out. So, when your foot catches on a chair leg and you stumble, you’re caught off guard—not just by the fall but by how quickly Tim reacts. He’s at your side in an instant, his hands steadying you with surprising strength. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

- Tim’s attention to detail extends to the way he cares for you. “You should be more careful,” he says, his tone gently teasing but his eyes betraying his worry. He helps you sit, insisting on checking for any sign of injury despite your protests. It’s endearing, the way he fusses over you, and you find yourself smiling despite your embarrassment. “What?” he asks, catching your expression. “Is it so strange that I care?” His words are casual, but the way he avoids your gaze suggests there’s more behind them.

- As the day goes on, Tim seems more distracted than usual, his glances toward you lingering longer than necessary. You catch him staring once or twice, his cheeks turning pink when you meet his gaze. It’s a rare vulnerability from someone so often in control, and it makes your heart ache in the best way. He doesn’t say much, but his actions speak volumes—the way he holds doors open for you, the way he offers you his jacket when the air grows chilly, the way his hand brushes yours when he thinks you’re not looking.

- Later, when the two of you are alone, he finally speaks. “I noticed you staring earlier,” he says, his voice hesitant. Your heart races as you scramble for an excuse, but he cuts you off. “It’s okay,” he says quickly, his cheeks still red. “I… I was staring, too.” His confession is quiet, almost shy, and it makes you fall for him even more. In that moment, you realize that behind Tim’s sharp mind and analytical exterior lies a heart that beats just as fast for you as yours does for him.

Damian Wayne aka. Robin

- Damian Wayne is sharp, composed, and always in control—except, apparently, when you’re around. You notice the way his eyes follow you, the way his demeanor shifts ever so slightly, though he’d never admit it. So, when you trip while staring at him, it feels like fate has played a cruel joke on you. Before you can hit the ground, his arms are around you, strong and steady. “You should watch where you’re going,” he says, his tone clipped, but the slight flush on his cheeks betrays him.

- Damian doesn’t let go immediately, his hands lingering on your arms longer than necessary. “Are you injured?” he asks, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. You shake your head, too flustered to speak, and he nods, stepping back but not before giving you one last, lingering glance. It’s rare to see him this unguarded, and it leaves you breathless. Despite his usual stoicism, there’s a tenderness in the way he checks on you, as though your well-being matters more to him than he’s willing to admit.

- As the day goes on, you notice Damian stealing glances at you, his expression unreadable but his gaze intense. He’s quieter than usual, his sharp remarks softened, his focus split between whatever task is at hand and your every movement. It’s endearing, seeing him like this, and you can’t help but smile when his composure slips just a little. “What are you smiling at?” he asks, his tone defensive, but there’s no real bite to his words. If anything, he seems flustered, his eyes darting away when you meet his gaze.

- Later, when it’s just the two of you, Damian surprises you with a rare moment of vulnerability. “You… distract me,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze is fixed on the ground, his usual confidence replaced with something more hesitant. “I don’t know what to do with these feelings,” he continues, his cheeks tinged with pink. Your heart aches at his honesty, and you reach out, your hand brushing his. “You don’t have to figure it out alone,” you say softly, and his eyes meet yours, filled with something raw and unspoken.

Barbara Gordon aka. Oracle / Batgirl

- Barbara Gordon is as brilliant as she is beautiful, and you’ve always admired the way she carries herself—with confidence, grace, and a touch of playfulness. It’s no wonder you’re caught staring, your thoughts too preoccupied with her to notice the uneven ground beneath your feet. You trip, a small yelp escaping your lips, and before you know it, she’s there, her hands steadying you. “Careful,” she says, her voice warm with amusement. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt on my watch.”

- Barbara’s smile is equal parts reassuring and teasing as she helps you regain your footing. “You okay?” she asks, her green eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress. You nod, your cheeks burning, and she chuckles softly. “Good. Though, next time, maybe try staring a little less obviously?” Her words make you blush even harder, but there’s no malice in them—just that playful charm that makes her so undeniably captivating.

- The rest of the day, Barbara seems to take every opportunity to tease you, her wit as sharp as ever. “Do I have something on my face, or are you just that distracted by my brilliance?” she asks at one point, her grin widening when you stammer out a response. Despite the teasing, there’s a warmth to her actions—the way she stays close to you, the way she casually touches your arm or shoulder, the way her laughter seems a little brighter when you’re the one who caused it.

- When the teasing subsides and the two of you are alone, Barbara’s tone shifts. “You know,” she begins, her voice softer now, “I noticed you staring because I couldn’t stop staring at you.” Her confession takes you by surprise, and she laughs at your stunned expression. “What? You didn’t think I’d let you have all the fun, did you?” Her eyes meet yours, her gaze steady and filled with something deeper than humor. In that moment, you realize that beneath her sharp wit and confident demeanor, Barbara’s heart beats just as fiercely for you as yours does for her.

Stephanie Brown aka. Spoiler

- Stephanie Brown has always been a whirlwind, her energy and humor filling every room she enters. It’s impossible not to be drawn to her, and so you find yourself watching her, captivated by the way she laughs or the sparkle in her eyes when she’s teasing someone—usually Tim. You don’t even realize you’ve tripped until the ground rushes up to meet you. But before you can hit it, she’s there, quick and steady, catching you with surprising strength. “Whoa! Someone’s got it bad,” she says, grinning as she helps you back up.

- Stephanie doesn’t let you live it down, of course. “What were you thinking about? Or should I say who?” she teases, wagging her eyebrows. Her tone is playful, but there’s a softness beneath it, an unspoken warmth in the way she holds onto your arm just a little longer than necessary. Despite her jokes, you can see the flicker of concern in her eyes. “You didn’t twist anything, right? Because if you did, I’m totally making you a ‘Danger to Yourself’ badge.”

- As the day continues, Stephanie finds every opportunity to bring up your little stumble. “Careful now, wouldn’t want to lose your balance again,” she says with a grin as she hands you a cup of coffee. Yet, for all her teasing, you notice the way her gaze lingers on you when she thinks you’re not looking, her expression softening in a way that makes your heart flutter. You realize that for all her bravado, Stephanie feels just as much as she jokes.

- Later, when the teasing dies down, Stephanie’s vulnerability peeks through. “You know,” she says, leaning against the wall beside you, “I tease because… well, it’s easier than saying what I really feel.” Her voice is quieter now, almost hesitant. “But if it wasn’t obvious, I think you’re pretty amazing.” Her words catch you off guard, and for once, she seems at a loss for what to say next. You reach out, taking her hand, and her smile returns, brighter than ever but now tinged with something deeper.

Cassandra Cain aka. Orphan

- Cassandra Cain moves like a shadow—silent, deliberate, and utterly mesmerizing. You’re so captivated by her fluid grace that you don’t notice the uneven ground beneath your feet until you stumble. Before you can even process what’s happening, Cassandra is there, her hands catching you with ease. Her dark eyes meet yours, concern flickering in them as she helps you steady yourself. She doesn’t say anything—she doesn’t need to. Her presence alone is enough to make your heart race.

- Cassandra’s communication is subtle, her touches and glances saying more than words ever could. She gently pats your arm, her expression softening as she looks you over for any sign of injury. When she’s satisfied you’re unhurt, she tilts her head, her lips curving into the faintest smile. It’s her way of teasing, a silent acknowledgment of your flustered state, and it only makes you fall for her more.

- Throughout the day, Cassandra stays close, her quiet presence both comforting and electrifying. She doesn’t say much, but you can feel her eyes on you, watching, protective. When she catches you looking at her, her cheeks flush ever so slightly, and she quickly looks away. It’s a rare vulnerability from someone so composed, and it makes your chest ache in the best way.

- Later, when it’s just the two of you, Cassandra surprises you by reaching out, her fingers brushing yours. “You… you make me feel different,” she says, her voice soft and halting but full of meaning. It’s a rare moment of verbal expression from her, and it leaves you speechless. She looks down, then back at you, her gaze steady despite her nerves. “Good different,” she adds, and her shy smile is enough to make your heart soar.

Duke Thomas aka. Signal

- Duke Thomas radiates warmth and light, even in Gotham’s darkest corners. You’re so drawn to his presence—the way he smiles, the way his laugh lights up a room—that you barely notice you’ve tripped until it’s too late. Before you can hit the ground, Duke catches you, his strong arms steadying you effortlessly. “Gotcha,” he says, grinning down at you. “You okay?” His tone is teasing but kind, his concern shining through even as he chuckles.

- Duke doesn’t let the moment pass without a little good-natured ribbing. “Didn’t know I was that distracting,” he jokes, his grin widening as your cheeks flush. But there’s no malice in his words, only a playful affection that makes your heart race. He keeps a protective hand on your arm as you steady yourself, his touch warm and reassuring. “Seriously, though,” he adds, his voice softening, “are you okay?”

- As the day goes on, Duke’s teasing continues, but so does his attentiveness. He seems to find every excuse to stay close, his easy charm masking the way his gaze lingers on you when he thinks you’re not looking. You catch him once or twice, his golden-brown eyes filled with something deeper than humor, and it makes your pulse quicken. For all his jokes, there’s an honesty to Duke that’s impossible to ignore.

- When the teasing fades and the two of you find a quiet moment together, Duke surprises you with his vulnerability. “You know,” he says, his voice lower now, “I don’t usually get this nervous around people.” He laughs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “But you… you’re different. In a good way.” His confession catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his gaze makes your heart swell. You smile, reaching out to take his hand, and his grin returns, brighter than ever.

Selina Kyle aka. Catwoman

- Selina Kyle is intoxicating—a mix of elegance, danger, and charm that makes it impossible to look away. You’re so entranced by her presence—the way she moves, the way her voice seems to purr—that you don’t notice you’ve stumbled until it’s too late. Selina catches you, her reflexes as sharp as ever, and her lips curve into a knowing smile. “Careful, darling,” she says, her tone playful but tinged with genuine concern. “Falling for me already?”

- Selina’s teasing is relentless, but it’s impossible to be mad at her when she’s so effortlessly captivating. “Really, you should watch where you’re going,” she says, her emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. “Although I can’t blame you for being a little distracted.” Her hand lingers on your arm, her touch light but deliberate, and it sends shivers down your spine. She knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s enjoying every second of it.

- As the day goes on, Selina finds every opportunity to tease you, her wit as sharp as her claws. “You’re lucky I was here to catch you,” she says, her smile equal parts affectionate and smug. But beneath her playful exterior, there’s a warmth to her actions—the way she subtly shields you during a tense moment, the way her gaze softens when she thinks you’re not looking. It’s a side of Selina few get to see, and it makes your heart ache with longing.

- Later, when the two of you are alone, Selina drops her teasing facade for a moment of honesty. “You’re different, you know,” she says, her voice softer now, almost wistful. “Most people see the thief, the troublemaker. But you… you see me.” Her gaze meets yours, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before. “And maybe that scares me a little,” she admits, her lips curving into a small, bittersweet smile. You reach out, your hand brushing hers, and she lets out a soft laugh. “But I think I like it.”

Kate Kane aka. Batwoman

- Kate Kane’s presence is magnetic, her strength and poise captivating in a way that leaves you breathless. You’ve always admired her, but today, as she stands across the room in her sharp suit, confidence radiating from every inch of her, you can’t take your eyes off her. That’s precisely why you trip, your foot catching on the edge of a rug. Before you can hit the ground, she’s there, her hands steadying you with practiced ease. “Careful,” she says, her voice low and warm. “Distracted by something?”

- Kate’s smirk is sharp, but her eyes soften as she looks you over. “You’re okay,” she says more to herself than to you, her hands lingering on your arms. It’s a rare tenderness from someone so guarded, and it makes your heart race. She steps back quickly, her usual stoic demeanor returning, but there’s a flicker of something in her gaze—something unspoken. “Try to watch your step,” she adds, her tone teasing but not unkind.

- Throughout the day, Kate stays near, her sharp eyes flicking toward you more often than usual. She doesn’t say much, but her actions speak volumes—the way she silently offers you a steadying hand when you’re navigating uneven ground, the way her body angles slightly toward you as if to shield you from harm. You catch her looking at you once, her gaze lingering longer than it should, and she quickly looks away, her cheeks tinged with pink.

- Later, when the two of you are alone, Kate finally drops her walls, if only for a moment. “You make me feel… different,” she admits, her voice hesitant. She leans against a nearby wall, her arms crossed as if to protect herself from the vulnerability she’s showing. “I’m not used to this—caring about someone like this.” Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see the woman beneath the armor—the one who’s just as captivated by you as you are by her.

Helena Bertinelli aka. Huntress

- Helena Bertinelli exudes a quiet intensity, her every movement calculated and deliberate. You’re so caught up in watching her—admiring the way she commands a room with nothing but her presence—that you don’t notice the uneven sidewalk beneath your feet. You stumble, but before you can fall, she’s there, her grip strong and sure. “Watch it,” she says, her voice firm but not unkind. Her dark eyes scan you quickly, making sure you’re okay before she lets go.

- Helena’s concern is understated, almost brusque, but it’s there in the way she steadies you. “You should be more careful,” she says, her tone softer now, though her expression remains serious. There’s a flicker of something in her eyes—worry, maybe?—that she quickly masks with a teasing smirk. “Distracted by something—or someone?” she asks, her voice dipping into a playful lilt that sends a shiver down your spine.

- Throughout the day, Helena keeps her distance, but you can feel her eyes on you. She’s always been protective, even if she doesn’t like to admit it, and it’s clear she’s keeping an eye on you now. When you catch her staring, she quickly looks away, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly. It’s a rare vulnerability from someone as guarded as Helena, and it only makes your feelings for her grow stronger.

- Later, when the two of you are alone, Helena surprises you by speaking first. “I don’t do this—feelings,” she says, her voice low but steady. She crosses her arms, her gaze fixed on the ground. “But you… you make it hard not to feel something.” When she finally looks up, her dark eyes are filled with something raw and unspoken. “Just don’t make me regret this,” she adds, her smirk returning, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. You step closer, brushing your hand against hers, and her smirk softens into a genuine smile.

Jean-Paul Valley aka. Azrael

- Jean-Paul Valley is a paradox—a man of faith and fury, strength and vulnerability. You’ve always found him fascinating, but today, as he moves with quiet purpose, his golden hair catching the light, you can’t take your eyes off him. That’s why you trip, your foot catching on a step. Before you can fall, his strong arms are around you, steadying you effortlessly. “Are you all right?” he asks, his voice deep and filled with concern.

- Jean-Paul’s worry is genuine, his hands lingering on your arms as he looks you over. “You need to be more careful,” he says, his tone a mix of chastisement and tenderness. His blue eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the world seems to stand still. “You’re not hurt, are you?” he asks, his voice softer now. You shake your head, your heart racing, and he nods, releasing you reluctantly but not before offering a reassuring smile.

- Throughout the day, Jean-Paul seems more watchful than usual, his gaze flicking toward you often. He doesn’t say much, but his presence is grounding, his protective nature shining through in the little things—the way he subtly positions himself between you and danger, the way his hand brushes yours as if to reassure himself that you’re okay. When you catch him staring, he quickly looks away, his cheeks tinged with pink, but the intensity in his eyes lingers.

- Later, when the two of you find a quiet moment, Jean-Paul speaks, his voice filled with hesitation. “I’ve always believed in a higher purpose,” he begins, his gaze fixed on the ground. “But lately, I’ve found myself questioning… everything.” He looks up at you, his blue eyes filled with vulnerability. “You make me feel things I don’t understand, but I think… I think I don’t want to let it go.” His confession is raw, unpolished, and it makes your heart ache with affection. You take his hand, offering a small smile, and he exhales, his tension easing.

Terry McGinnis aka. Batman II

- Terry McGinnis is all charm and quick wit, his confidence masking the weight of responsibility he carries as Gotham’s newest protector. You’ve always admired him, but today, as he stands in the Batcave, the glow of the monitors casting shadows across his sharp features, you can’t help but stare. That’s why you trip, your foot catching on a loose cable. Before you can hit the floor, Terry’s there, his reflexes honed by years of training. “Gotcha,” he says, grinning as he helps you up. “You okay?”

- Terry’s grin is teasing, but there’s genuine concern in his eyes as he steadies you. “You sure you’re not concussed or something?” he asks, his tone light but his hands lingering on your arms. His blue eyes flicker with something deeper—worry, maybe, or something more vulnerable. “You’ve got to watch your step,” he adds, his grin softening into a small smile. “Can’t have you getting hurt on my watch.”

- Throughout the day, Terry’s usual banter seems more pointed, his jokes tinged with affection. “You know,” he says at one point, leaning casually against the Batmobile, “if you wanted my attention, you didn’t have to trip for it.” But his eyes betray him, their warmth belying his teasing tone. When he thinks you’re not looking, you catch him staring, his expression soft and unguarded in a way that makes your heart flutter.

- Later, when the teasing subsides, Terry surprises you with his honesty. “I’m not great at this—feelings, relationships, all of it,” he admits, his voice quieter now. He rubs the back of his neck, his usual confidence giving way to something more uncertain. “But you… you make me want to try.” His blue eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the weight of his responsibilities seems to lift. “Just… don’t give up on me, okay?” he adds, his voice almost pleading. You smile, taking his hand, and he exhales, his tension easing as he smiles back.

[peppermintprism]

Hello fellow ADHDer, may I interest you in some management tools?

Option 1: goblin.tools the AI tool that breaks down tasks for you. (Note: if you don’t want to use AI, you can skip to Option 2)

You can delete sub-tasks that don’t apply to you, or click the 🪄 icon to break down sub-tasks further. I often find that I’m not overwhelmed by the number of steps, but instead by trying to hold all those tiny steps in my glitchy working memory.

Option 2: Domestic Labor & Dragons. This strategy originated on TikTok, and most citations trails lead back to @this.isjules but I was unable to find the original video. Here’s my version of it:

1. On a day when you have a brain cell, make a list of the chores in your house by room or section. Number each item, try to make your list lengths correspond to standard dice numbers so that you can roll on them as tables later. Your options are: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, and 20. 🎲

3. Assign point values to each chore. The number of points doesn’t matter, but I like using 5pts for easier tasks, 10pts and 15pts for medium tasks, and 20pts for especially hard tasks. I made two lists for some unintelligible reason. You can just put the points on the same page, just like write them in another pen color or something.

4. Make your monster. Draw it badly. Use a randomizer website or pull from the monster manual if you want, just don’t get too precious with it, the monster’s purpose is to be defeated and we’re gonna scribble on it. If you want to do a big cleaning day, tally up your total possible points for doing every chore in your house, then divide that by two. (For me, all chores add up to 400pts so I make most of my Big Monsters 200pts)

5. FIGHT! Most of the time I really only end up needing to use the Roll for Chores sheet and the dice, but it’s really fun to scribble on the monster as they take damage and your house gets cleaner. You can optionally assign some reward for defeating the monster, but I just like the dopamine hit of defeating my Blorbo. Mine reset to baby mode upon defeat as seen with Bitey above. Final note: if you refill the same chore twice, take a break!! Get food!! The people who tell you to never stop moving are on their way to burnout!!! You can get momentum again by rolling the dice “just to see” what the next chore would be.

More options: Body Double with a friend, Roleplay that you’re Cinderella or your favorite character, put on a dance music album and only clean until the music stops, invite a friend over to have a reason to make your space clean when they arrive, put on videos of professional cleaners helping people get their space in order, hide shelf-stable snacks at the bottom of piles of clutter and only eat them once you’ve reached the bottom of that pile. Do whatever works! Throw shame out the window! If it works for you it’s not dumb!

(Note: this acronym is also sometimes called INCUP or FOCUS. I just like PINCH best.)

Good luck out there, friends! Now I have to go do the cleaning that I procrastinated by making this post. 😅

Sincerely,

A fellow ADHDer ♾️🦋

Clean home checklist:

"Do the laundry" as if doing laundry doesn't have 27 individual steps that each require other tasks to get done. Each task runs the risk of starting additional secret tasks.

"Organize kitchen" my brain has malware and it's overheating. CPU at 100%. There are no executives at my function

[cybrasigilism]

Could I request a nsfw fic of soft dom thanos x reader reassuring them because they feel shy during intimacy? (I’m such a sucker for soft doms☹️) btw I love love your work ur one of my favorite writers :3

aww i’m so honoured! thank you so much for the love 😘

Judge Judy (Thanos/Player 230 X Reader)

warning: smut (omg someone sound the alarm bells) | not proofread | lowercase intended | ooc thanos? (writing him a lot softer than i think he would be) | protection not specified (don’t rely on the pullout method pulease) | praise | soft dom!thanos | reader has female genitalia | PiV

character: thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: it lowkey felt strange to write thanos super soft n’ sweet? i can get behind a gentler version of him, don’t get me wrong! and thank you so much again for your kind words :) hoping i did your request justice! (+ the title of the fic is taken from a Tyler, the Creator song title, please check it out Judge Judy is really good)

MDNI! 18+ content under the cut, reader’s discretion is advised

─────⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ─────

you were beyond ashamed of yourself.

here was your boyfriend, putting down his all for you, and you still couldn’t escape your mousey state, still hiding away as much as possible in that shell of yours. even as he had his hand between your thighs, working absolute magic, you couldn’t muster up a moan. you were absolutely horrified of making any noise. sure there was the occasional gasp for air and slight moan but you held back as much as possible; gripping the sheets, biting your lip, anything to stop that voice of yours coming out. you almost slipped up when he started kissing your neck, leaving hickeys anywhere he spent a particularly long time on.

it got to a point where enough was enough for thanos.

he was desperate to hear you, he wanted so badly to draw moans and whines from your lips, but you were positively petrified. before he moved forward to the actual sex part of the ordeal, he pulled away, now looming over you as you laid there, wide eyed and just so quiet.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he asked, looking you up and down. you exhaled sharply, looking away in shame. “i’m sorry, i’m just..nervous, that’s all.” he cocked his head to the side, eyebrows crinkling upwards in a look of concern. “nervous? for what? we’ve done this before..” he had every right to be confused, you knew that. if you could get naked in front of him, why was your voice where you drew the line? “was it something i did?” he wondered, and you felt your heart break into a million pieces.

“no! god no, i just..” you started, feeling your shoulders tense as you found yourself scavenging for words that should have come all too easily to you. “i don’t want to be obnoxious..?” the look of concern on thanos’s face slowly let a smile creep through and he chuckled a bit, you felt your cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. “don’t laugh!” you cry out, covering your face. “i’m sorry! i’m sorry, i just wasn’t expecting that, that’s all.” he explained, calming down. he grabbed your hands, moving them down from your face, able to make eye contact once more.

“be obnoxious all you like,” he started, his gaze had become softer than you’d seen it before, “you don’t understand how badly i need to hear you.” you gulped, grasping his hands in return. “i don’t…i don’t think i know how…” you felt your eyes shift again, you didn’t know how? he took your chin to redirect your line of sight once again. “if that’s all it is, i can help you.” he assured, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease. “just follow my lead, okay sweetheart?” you nodded, leaning forward to initiate a kiss, to which thanos happily accepted.

this time, you weren’t gonna hold back. you were terrified, sure. but you were not gonna hold back.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

and hold back you did not. fuck, you didn’t even know you were capable of such sounds. from the moment he thrusted into you, you were more vocal than either of you knew possible. thanos was certainly not disappointed, he had gotten more vocal in response too. you know he had told you to follow his lead, but now it seemed you had taken the role of leader.

“there ya’ go, that’s my girl.” he praised as he bottomed out once again in your tight cunt, maintaining a steady pace as he pumped in and out of you. you couldn’t imagine forming words at this point, he consumed all your thoughts, ridding you of the ability to form intelligible dialogue. “god, you have such pretty moans, fuck.”

his relentless praise caused you to clench around his cock, which made him make sluttier sounds than you, which was currently saying a lot. with your newfound voice, an endless cycle of pure ecstasy laid ahead, and it was better than any drug in that cross that thanos wore.

─────⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ─────

apologies that this one is shorter than the others, but i felt it was best short and sweet! thanks for reading and for the recommendation! as always, any advice/constructive criticism on how to improve my writing is appreciated and requested!

have a good rest of your day/night lovelies!💋

Tags: @gongyoosgf @kvstjwonnie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga