#i need to stop looking at the mirror every now and then

[itsrlymine]

Stop Falling for “New Techniques” And Just Use Your Mind. It's Not Hard.

Stop listening to people who are coming up with new techniques for you to get into the state of having what you want every thirty fucking seconds and use your damn mind. No matter what new techniques start trending on TikTok or YouTube, you either have your desire now or you “don’t”. 

How many times are you gonna fall for the “oh try this out to help you get your desires” bs that people come up with every few seconds. Stop being a b*tch and just decide you have what you want now. Regardless of whatever technique you use, it doesn't matter because the technique isn’t what “works”, YOU ARE. Reality is a mirror. Do I need to explain how mirrors work? 

If you decide to sit there and have a conversation with the ai version of your sp or you want a search engine to make you feel better about whether or not you have something, those things won’t help you. No matter what anybody says. No matter what long ass post or 30 minute video someone on YouTube makes about how to use the next best technique to get what you want. They don’t have the power. You are the power. You are the damn search engine. 

You are born with your desires. You are born with everything you “need” to manifest so why aren’t you acting like it? Why do you still need the 3d to prove to yourself you can manifest something???

You don’t find funny that people will constantly tell you to go to the “next best thing” rather than to just go within yourself to get the answer you are looking for? Using outside sources for motivation rather than giving it to yourself…. You don’t feel the least bit pathetic? You don’t feel the least bit ashamed handing your power away to something that wouldn’t even exist without you being aware of it??

Stop creating excuses everyday for yourself as to “why” you don’t have what you want when you are the reason. You are the reason the sun shines in the morning yet you didn’t have to the 369 method or ask chatpgt if the sun will shine for you to know you’ll see it.

At the end of the day it’s just you and it’s only ever been you. Those things can work because you say they do but not because they have any inherent power. You are the power. You are the light. Fucking act like it. 

[mallowsweetmiri]

I am foaming at the mouth after Potter!Reader x Remus. Like I’m literally obsessed, perfect characterisation.

I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are, would you mind doing a part 2? Maybe more of them sneaking around or James finding out or something I don’t know.

Secret Potter!reader x Remus pt 2

Summary: Remus can’t stop thinking about you, you can't stop kissing him, and Theodore Pompous needs to hide from James

Warnings: smutty, mentions of consent, slight corruption kink

Word count: 3.5k

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Remus woke up the next morning and sat up in his bed for a full minute thinking, what the fuck have I done? He had fucked his best friend's little sister, and the worst part was, he wanted to do it again. Remus rubbed over his eyes as he got up to use the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and tried to justify what had happened. It wasn't his fault that you teased him all weekend- with a surprising amount of stealth considering James was almost always around the two of you- and then made him feel your soaking panties when he tried to ask for your consent.

"Jesus fucking christ," Remus cursed, grabbing the sink and looking at himself in the mirror. He had to get a grip. By the time he had brushed his teeth, showered, and gotten dressed, it was lunch hours. Remus and the marauders strutted cheerfully down to the Great Hall, despite being at a party the night before. This was routine. Soon they'd be scarfing their faces with toast and sausage and sandwiches.

You had woken up a few minutes later and ended up walking to the Great Hall with Marlene and a few other girls. You were mildly hungover, though by this hour, you were ready to eat. When you walked through the doors, you spotted Remus immediately. He was already watching you as you walked towards the table, sitting down next to James as you did every morning.

"Mornin'," James greeted you, smiling through a mouthful of toast. You raised your brows and tried not to laugh for two reasons. James was staring at you like an idiot, and Remus was staring at your tits.

"Good morning," you laughed, hiding the smile on your lips. You started to fill your plate, intentionally looking away from Remus. He seemed to be nervous. Then you felt James fingers pull back your hair away from your neck.

"Y/N, do you have a hickey on your neck?" James sputtered, moving in closer to stare at it. Your eyes shot up to Remus who was currently looking away from you and your brother.

"So what," you scoffed, fussing his hand away. "You're the one who reminded me of my crush on Theodore. Now you're mad at me for it?"

Remus had to admit, you were a quick thinker. James' face turned a violent shade of red as he shot up to locate Theodore Pompous at the Ravenclaw table. When Remus met your eye, the two of you almost burst out laughing at James' reaction before you sprung up to grab his arm.

"James," you scolded, trying to stifle a laugh. "Seriously, stop. You can't just berate Theodore. That's so rude and there's no reason to." James shook his head at you with an incredulous look.

"No reason-"

"James," Marlene shouted, standing up as well. "Stop it. All of us are tired of you being such a dick to Y/N. You don't see her reacting like this when you have a bit of fun." The other girls murmured in agreement as James' eye twitched.

"Yes, but thats different-"

"Why?" Marlene raised her brow, "Because she's a girl?" The was a series of oooh's and cackles from Sirius and Peter before James begrudgingly sat down and passed a dirty glance your way. At least he was settled for now. James wouldn't continue to press you with Lily and the other girls at your defense.

Lunch went on and Remus came to the conclusion that he was utterly obsessed with you. He wondered if you were still teasing him or if it was just your body taunting him as his eyes kept finding their way to your chest. You had always been drop dead gorgeous. This was fucked. There was no way he’d be able to keep his eyes from wandering to you, and there was even less of a chance that he’d be able to go to whole week without fucking you at least once. He tried to feel bad about it, but that wasn't the case. He wanted you, and there really wasn't anything that was going to stop him from seeing you again.

Remus decided to approach this logically. If he wanted keep fucking you, he'd have to court you. He wouldn't mind that. You enjoyed literature, you were funny, and you were one of the most talented witches in the school. And you were his best friends brother, if he wanted to fuck you today, he'd have to do it in secret to avoid an interfering and angry James.

That's why when he found you studying alone in the library that afternoon, he took the opportunity.

"Hello," Remus cleared his throat, approaching your desk. "Mind if I join you?" Your eyes peered up from your papers momentarily, just enough to acknowledge his presence.

"Sure," you hummed, dipping your quill in the inkwell. "As long as you don't distract me from my work."

Remus huffed out a laugh and pulled a chair up to your table. Even sitting down, his frame towered over yours. You tried to continue writing, but the task felt futile as his knee rested just inches from yours. You sighed and put your quill down, turning to face Remus. His face wore a smile as he threw his hands up in defense.

"Hey, I wasn't even doing anything," he chuckled, watching as you rolled your eyes. A smile crept up to your lips.

"Yeah, yeah, Remus," you grumbled. "Did you want to talk about something?" He huffed out another laugh and you felt his breath on your face, the close proximity making your stomach do a flip. In the low lighting, he looked heavenly.

"Yea, actually. I did want to talk to you about something," his voice lowering as he leaned in. You narrowed your eyes at him as the smirk on his face stayed put. He thought he was hot shit and maybe he was right about that, but you wouldn't let him play with you.

"Hmm, and what would that be?" you asked innocently, looking up at him with your signature doe eyes. He scoffed out a laugh.

"Well, love. To be honest, I can't stop thinking about you," he purred, his arm slinging over the back of your chair as he leaned in even closer. You stifled the urge to press your legs together as his hand played with the hem of your t-shirt, rubbing it in between his fingers.

"Can't stop thinking about how good the sex was?" You teased, leaning in with a mischievous lip bite. This made Remus laugh and you blushed at his genuine smile.

"Straight to the point then," Remus chuckled, looking around the library. "Listen, I don't want to be disrespectful-"

"Okay, let me cut you off right there," you said sternly, pushing your finger into his chest. "If you're going to be scared of my brother, then this isn't going to work. I'm looking for someone who will fuck me and not hold back. If you can't do that, then we shouldn't do this." You finished, turning back to sit properly in your chair. Remus' hand stopped you by the shoulder.

"Love, if I cared about your brother right now I wouldn't be here telling you how badly I need to fuck you again," Remus whispered quickly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second. Your face flushed immediately as the want between your legs throbbed again.

"Oh," was all you could make out. His smirk annoyingly made another appearance as he chuckled lightly at you, again. His thumb rubbed over the cap of your shoulder as you looked at him with a permanent blush, your lips parted slightly. The smirk slowly faded off his face as he stared at you. He couldn't focus while you were looking at him like that. With that blush on your cheeks, and those plump, pink lips.

"So what's your plan then?" You said, snapping Remus out of his trance. He sat up straighter.

"Meet me in the prefect's bathroom at 9:30," he instructed, his hand moving off your shoulder as he stood up. You smirked up at him as he moved his chair back to the table next to yours.

"I'll be there," you replied, turning back to your notes.

"See you then," Remus smiled, leaving before he lost control and bent you over the table.

Later that night

You padded lightly through the hallways. Curfew wasn't for another 30 minutes, but you tried to stay quiet. Your body buzzed with excitement as you padded up the staircase to the fifth floor. It turned you on that Remus was using his prefect privileges to fuck you in private, and it turned you on even more knowing there was a giant bathtub in the middle of the room. You chuckled lightly to yourself as you came onto the floor, Remus leaning against the wall near the statue. His eyes found your hips as you approached him.

"Hi," you whispered, stepping softly towards him.

"Hi beautiful," he muttered, pushing off the wall to come towards you. You weren't expecting him to kiss you, so a gasp escaped you when he surged forward to press his lips against yours. He grabbed your cheeks to deepen the kiss hungrily. You moaned into him as your fists clasped the front of his shirt, his prefect badge moving with the fabric.

"We should go inside," you gasped, pulling away from his irresistible lips. He hummed in agreement, not quite looking at you. His hands were gripping tightly on your hips like they did the previous night, as if he could barely contain himself. It took a moment but Remus led you through the doors and into the bathroom, dimly lit from the moon and enchanted colored lights. You bit your lip as you watched the water run from the faucets and into the bath, filling the room with steam.

"Let's take this off," Remus purred, coming from behind to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh of relief as he sucked down on your sweet spot, his hands running under your shirt to lift it over your head. You happily obliged and felt Remus groan into your neck as he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You knew this would drive him crazy, and hearing him groan in your ear made you pool between your legs. He pulled your shirt off and spun you around, leaving no time before dipping down to kiss you again. You could hardly think as Remus wrapped his arms around your body, burying into the kiss like he didn't need air. It was mesmerizing, the way your body fit against his. The two of you kissed like that for a while, the steam eventually pooling over both of your skin. It took a few minutes for Remus to stop kissing you, humming multiple times into your mouth before he finally pulled away.

"Rem," you groaned, tugging on the buttons of his shirt to take it off. He was practically soaking through his shirt anyway.

"Let's get in the water."

The two of you stripped and sunk slowly into the bath, Remus' hands pulling you into his lap. When your backside made contact with him, you gasped. His length pressed against you and you were suddenly reminded of how he stretched you out last night. You were glad to be soaking in a hot bath. You barely had time for another thought when he connected his lips with your skin, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as he massaged your thighs.

"Fuck," you groaned as his hands came up to grasp your breast. He hummed in response and bit your earlobe, earning a roll from your hips. His fingers slipped down between your legs, teasing you gently.

"Y/N," Remus breathed, pausing his kissing and earning a hum from you in response. "I want to eat you out."

He didn't wait for your response as he lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the tub, dropping down to his knees and moving between your legs.

"Remus- oh," you moaned as his mouth connected with your clit. You instantly gripped his hair, your head thrown back in an intense wave of pleasure. Remus was making you feel good, and by the way he was groaning into your core and wrapping his hands around your waist, you were pretty sure he was enjoying himself too. You couldn't form words and ultimately found yourself on your back. Remus shifted up higher to kiss your clit deeper, his tongue licking and dipping into your core. His hands stayed put on your hips, his mouth working overtime to send you over the edge.

"Fuck, please Remus," you gasped, you legs locking over his shoulders and bucking up into his face. He only huffed in response as his hands snaked under your back, pulling you deeper into his mouth. You twitched in his grasp, an orgasm teetering as his tongue swiped over your clit.

"So close, Rem," you whine, gripping his curls tighter. Remus could feel you pulse under his tongue, and it took every ounce of control for him to pull away. "Wh-what?" you whine, immediately sitting up to see Remus. He sat there with his arms linked under your legs, his smirk covered in slick down to his chin.

"You want to come for me, Y/N?" Remus teased, leaving wet, open kisses on the inside of your thighs. You whined and he chuckled, looking up at you wickedly through his kisses. "Do you?" He prompted again, moving to the other leg. You groaned with desire.

"Yes, Remus. Please," you cried, tugging on his hair to come towards you again. He hummed out a chuckle into your skin.

"Tell me how badly you want it," Remus challenged you, moving his kisses closer to your center.

"Please, Remus. I want you so badly. I need you. So badly, Remus. Please," you whined, falling on your back and continuing to grasp at his head. You felt the vibrations of his chuckle next to your clit.

"Such a good girl," he mumbled, planting a kiss right onto you. You let out another guttural whine as he continued to tenderly lap at your clit and your entrance, slowly savoring your wetness. You felt your orgasm building once more, sending jolts through your body that increased in force with every movement of Remus' tongue. Your hips were bucking badly, and Remus tightened his grip on you to bury himself once again.

"I'm going to come," you gasped, barely lasting a second longer before spilling into his mouth. The intensity felt doubled this time, and Remus ate you up graciously. You were almost embarrassed by how hard your orgasm had hit you, but Remus didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was moaning into your core as he finished you up.

"You taste so fucking good," Remus groaned as he climbed over you, his tip pressing against your entrance and slipping in momentarily through the slick. You gasped and felt yourself clench around him, still sensitive from his mouth. Remus' hand found the back of your head as he pushed himself into you fully. You gasped and whined simultaneously, digging your nails into his biceps. "Fuck, Y/N. You feel even better." He began to move in and out of you at a torturous pace, his tip burying deep within you. Just when you thought he had bottomed out, he bucked into you with force and moved even deeper inside of you. You let out an unprompted noise which seemed to please Remus as he started pounding into you, forcing noises out of you that were uncontrollable.

"F-fuck, R-remus," you said, your words bouncing with the pace of his thrusts. It was unrelenting, but you were so soft from his mouth that you started to near another orgasm. Your fate was sealed when his thumb came down to find your clit, the pressure of his cock adding to the pleasure immediately.

"So pretty, Y/N," Remus moaned, dipping to press a kiss to your lips. You hungrily returned it, the two of you moaning into each other's mouths as Remus' thrust slowed and deepened. "So. Fucking. Beautiful." He pounded into you, clenching his jaw as he fucked the life out of you. You were tightening, and tightening, and tightening until the coil in your stomach snapped and a rush of release pulsed through your walls. Remus groaned loudly as you felt him collapse into you, his thrusts deep and followed by spurts of warmth inside of you. He thrusted into you lazily, kissing you and rubbing your hips with his thumbs. Like much of the night, the two of you stayed kissing unhurriedly like this. It was only when someone knocked on the door that the two of you moved from your position.

"Thank Merlin you locked the door," you muttered, pulling on your pants after casting a dryer spell over you.

"Heh, I actually didn't. It's just common practice after prefect rounds," Remus laughed sheepishly. "It must be the end of the next shift." Your eyes widened at this as the two of you finished pulling on your clothes and drying off perspectively. You kept close to Remus' back as the two of you moved to leave the bathroom. You heard Remus say something to the other prefect but you didn't look up as you followed Remus out. He ushered you towards the staircase and muttered in your ear, "That was Theodore Pompous." You stifled a laugh as the two of you climbed the stairs. Remus was grinning at the coincidence and teasing you about your old crush. The two of you laughed and blushed and talked quite comfortably next to one another as you neared the Gryffindor tower.

"Do you think anyone will be in the common room?" you asked, lowering your voice and letting go of his hand. Remus shrugged and walked behind you, guiding you to the portrait hole.

"I don't think so. There's an early quidditch practice tomorrow and it's already past curfew," he muttered, giving the fat lady the password and climbing through to the common room. Remus' face hardened when he saw James sitting on the couch, his head turned towards them. He stood up when he saw you enter behind Remus.

"Y/N, what were you doing out past curfew? I was worried. I waited up for you," James frowned at you, his eyes filled with genuine concern. You felt your face flush red, realizing why you were out late. You might as well have been wearing a sign that said we just fucked. Thankfully Remus was exceptionally good at drying charms. 

"I found her sneaking around Ravenclaw Tower," Remus said with a nonchalant nod of the head. "Thought I'd bring her back." 

"Wasn't your shift done thirty minutes ago?" James questioned, stepping closer to Remus who showed no signs of embarrassment or concern.

"Yes, but I told Theodore I'd take his shift in exchange for him doing mine on Sirius' birthday," Remus shrugged. Your mouth formed a straight line as you looked at him. Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? James looked at Remus incredulously.

"Why would you trade shifts with him," James hissed, narrowing his eyes towards him. You started to walk towards your dorm.

"Well, I'm back," you dismissed James with a yawn. "Goodnight, Jamie." James huffed and stepped in front of you, grabbing your hands.

"Y/N, you know I love and respect you," he stared, causing you to roll your eyes by instinct. "But I just want you to be safe. Don't stay out late for some prat who you've hardly even talked to before." You sighed as he looked at you with those James Potter eyes that reminded you of home.

"I know. I'm sorry I worried you," you apologized, looking sympathetically to him. "I'm gonna go to sleep now. Okay?" James let out a sigh of relief as he gave you a hug.

"Goodnight," James called as you went up the stairs.

"Goodnight," you called back, sending Remus a wave. Remus waved subtly back to you before sighing and rubbing his eyes. He hated lying to James, and he hated even more how much he felt like he was corrupting his best friend's little sister. He knew it wasn't true though. You had shown him how badly you wanted him, how much of a slut you were for him... Fuck. Remus wanted you for himself and he wanted you for a long time. He made a vow to ask you out by the end of the week, and to do it with James' blessing.

"Sorry I got a little heated, Moony," James said, turning to face Remus. "I just can't stand the thought of her alone with some random git. Thanks for bringing her back." Remus hummed and nodded.

"It's no problem."

The two of them went up to their dorm and crashed respectively onto their beds. Sirius and Peter were already asleep. Remus laid awake again thinking about you. He thought about your face when you came, and the way you blushed when he teased you. He fell asleep dreaming of you during the summertimes when you would read outside with him and woke up the next morning with a plan. 

[wxwrites]

Lightning Bolts

Sevika X Reader, angst & fluff. (f!reader)

While she can recognize her own strength in certain aspects, sometimes she really struggles with recognizing it in other places. You catch her frowning at her own appearance in the bathroom mirror.

Sevika has always kept herself guarded and closed-off, rarely ever displaying vulnerability or affection. In her mind, all of that made her weak, and that was the worst feeling she could ever experience. She has always been the protector, the one who sacrifices herself for Zaun and those she’s loyal to. Due to her irrevocable nature, that is what led to one of the most traumatic moments of her life. 

So, now she has to cope with one of the biggest insecurities that she has ever had to deal with. And it’s not her new arm, she actually really appreciates the look and how it makes her feel. The men that used to intimidate her as a kid, now cower in fear as her loud boots clank through each building she enters and every street she walks on. She finds the new strength dependable, fascinating, and addicting. 

However, she catches herself staring at the deep scars that streak across her cheek and down her neck. But she’s not just looking, she’s criticizing how the blue glares beneath her skin, causing a different kind of rage to bubble beneath her skin. Her jaw clenches as she watches it glow and fade in little ripples across her dark skin, nearly fracturing the mirror in front of her. Always her own critic, always feeling like she could just be better. The only thing that stops her downward spiral is your sweet voice, calling towards the bathroom. “‘ Vika?” She hears, and immediately drops her fist the ceramic sink, cracking the corner slightly. You swiftly step towards her at the sound of the commotion, pressing a soft hand onto her shoulder.

“What’s goin’ on, baby?” You ask gently, rubbing over the tense muscle with your thumb. “Nothin’, I’m okay, sweetheart.” She replies, fighting every urge in her mind that is screaming at her to push you away. She huffs lowly and slumps over the sink, bowing her head slightly, subconsciously leaning into your soft touch.

“Talk to me, yeah?” You coax gently, scratching the tips of your fingers through her new undercut, smiling at her softly as you admire her new look. She shakes her head briefly before sighing, and muttering a quiet, “I’m just not a fan of… y’know.” She gestures to the deep scarring on her cheek and neck. You give her a sympathetic smile and move your hand from her neck to her cheek, gently soothing it over the marks. She flinches initially and wants to jerk her head away, and she does for a split second. But she eventually leans back into your touch, letting you thumb over the scars.

You cock your head in confusion as you look at her pretty face, “You’re so beautiful, Sevika.” You compliment, standing up on your toes to press a kiss to her cheek. “They’re like… little lightning bolts.” You say, trailing your fingers down her cheek, to her jaw, and then to her collarbones. They continue further down her body, but they’re greatly concealed by the shirt and vest she’s currently sporting. “Beautiful, and bright, and so lovely.” You continue, pressing your lips to her collar softly, chuckling against her skin as she shivers at your touch. “I wish I could help you see yourself the way that I see you.” You mumble against her skin, keeping your lips and hand attached to the glistening cracks. 

She sighs deeply at your comment and rests her forehead against yours, tilting your chin up with her hand as she presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “I’m getting there.” She replies quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “I know, I know.” You repeat, smiling against her neck. “And I’ll be here for whenever you need me, yeah?” You state, reaching down to lace your fingers together. 

[star2fishmeg]

https://www.tumblr.com/star2fishmeg/765609602916204544

Sorry but this picture made me think about Luke’s long fingers plunging into you while he relishes in how good he’s making you feel

Back pressed against Luke's chest, the Lego flowers you were building abandoned on the coffee table along with your bra he'd skilfully slipped off you, his legs spread apart and yours mirroring. Your head lulled back on his shoulder, huffing hot air into his ear while his palm found its way under his your shirt, engulfing and groping at your tit, fingers pinching and toying with your nipple just as he loves to do. He can't help it, he loves playing with your breasts, you always make the cutest sounds when he has them in his hands, or tongue swirling around them, maybe nipping at the skin while moaning just to send those vibrations along your skin.

Meanwhile, his other hand has its fingers circling your clit with perfect pressure, he's done this hundreds of times, enough to know exactly how you like it and he's rubbing slowly, teasingly and you buck into him, whining out his name in the hope it'll drive him to give you what you need.

"Ten minutes ago, you were too busy building those flowers to listen to my begging and look at you now, baby." He murmurs, pressing his lips to your cheek with a sweet facade, running his middle and ring fingers through your sopping folds, "Now look at you, my pretty girl begging me to touch her. Mmm, such pretty noises too, too bad she's too quiet to hear well."

You're unsure where to put your hands but eventually, they naturally settle with one winding around Luke's head, fingers automatically gripping his curls and the other grabbing his forearm.

"Lu...please," you whimper out, louder than you have been knowing it will encourage him. A low, rumbly chuckle, long, wet kisses along the column of your neck with his hair brushing against your cheek as his lips rise to your ear, middle finger slipping inside your cunt easily, welcomed into a warm hug by your walls and he's languidly thrusting. His cock strains against his shorts, rutting into your lower back and you're reminded how he's spent the moments before this dry humping you.

"That's more like it," he chuckles, deep voice reverberating and sending goosebumps up your neck, "such a cute face when you concentrate, couldn't help myself. You thought I wouldn't catch you staring at my fingers either? Baby, I know how much you love my fingers."

His ring finger joins his middle, plunging into your pussy and sliding in its arousal. Your hands grip him tighter, back beginning to arch away from him but Luke's pulling you back into his chest, squeezing your tit, groaning softly into your ear when he curls his long fingers. Your mouth falls agape, airy whines spilling with his every stroke and calling his name in a mantra, excitement fizzling in his chest like sparklers and a wild glaze over his eyes the faster his name fills the living room.

"Don't stop, fuck," you sob, eyes screwed shut and tightness in your stomach, "feels so good, Luke, so fucking good."

You feel his grin against your neck, not his loverboy grin that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, a grin laced with cockiness like his ego's been stroked. He's leaving open-mouthed kisses against your neck, nipping at the skin and setting wildfires through you while his fingers sink into your cunt, curling against the sweet spot, washing waves of fervour over your body.

[psycheandmind]

Just assume it’s done, and stop searching for proof like some detective trying to solve a case. Every time you’re out here looking for signs, checking to see if it’s “working,” or scanning your life to see if it’s changed yet, you’re screaming to yourself, I don’t have it. And guess what happens? You keep not having it. Congrats, you’re manifesting lack.

Here’s the thing: when you look for it, you’re reaffirming the exact opposite of what you want. You’re saying, “I don’t believe it’s done, so I need proof to feel secure.” That’s the fastest way to sabotage yourself. Manifestation isn’t about waiting for something to show up. It’s about knowing it’s already yours and moving on like the boss you are.

Let me be blunt: stop checking the mirror. The physical world is just a reflection. You wouldn’t stand in front of a mirror and yell at your reflection to smile before you smile, right? Same deal here. You don’t wait for your life to show you proof before you decide it’s yours. You assume it’s yours first, and the reflection follows. That’s how it works. Period.

When you assume, you don’t beg. You don’t hope. You don’t even care if the world looks the same right now. You’ve already claimed it, so why bother? The moment you assume and actually stick to it, it’s done. The rest is just noise. Stop reaffirming lack by looking for something that’s already yours. Act like you have it because guess what? you already do.

[decaffeinatedcupcakekid]

If I had to change something about Boruto, it’d be the characters. Not that they don’t have a good basis, it’s just that their potential was absolutely wasted. They feel soulless. Like they have no personality whatsoever.

And I know that factually they’re all very unique like Chocho, Sarada and Kawaki, they all have the potential to be very motivating characters in their own right.

Except they aren’t.

Kawaki is a mirror to Sasuke, we’re meant to see him as Boruto’s rival with a tragic backstory. A brother, a sun and moon narrative that’s a complete replica of Sasuke and Naruto.

And that’s where the problem lays. They’re all just replicas of someone else. The og series also had this issue of making new characters like old ones e.g. Sakura & Rin, Sasuke & Madara etc. but those were actually well done. This is just a cash grab trying to replicate the previous series.

The Boruto series should stop trying to be something it’s not and actually embrace itself as a new idea while also NOT ruining previous characters. Ame was left in ruin, something Naruto never would’ve stood for, the boy we grew to love in the previous series is unrecognisable. And I get it, people change, which would’ve been cool and all to see if it wasn’t so poorly done.

For what reason does Naruto genuinely have to act like this? Yeah, he has a village to run that’s been booming ever since the war, except he has advisors in Ino, Shikamaru, Sakura and literally every clan head is on his side. His village is best friends with every other village. There is hardly any conflict. And you’re telling me he can’t come to his children’s birthday party? Mr ‘I want to be Hokage so people won’t look down on me’? But also he wants that because he has no family so he wants the villagers to love him. And he forsakes his family, who’ve loved him since the beginning, so easily?

They ruin old characters to the point where they may as well be from another universe because if they were half the people they actually were, that’d stop the conflicts before they start. And yeah, maybe the previous main character overshadowing the new one is a bad thing, I get that.

But if they were going to character assassinate Naruto as a way to solve this, I’d rather they have him killed before the main Boruto series started. That’d cause conflict. The pillar of peace just dying. Or like, anything else. There was no need to ruin Naruto for a soulless series like Boruto that only focuses on power ups.

And I know there’s going to be people who think the power ups are cool, that the two blue vortex is actually kind of cool. But that’s because literally every other character from the Naruto series is gone so that they can’t overshadow Boruto.

Naruto and Hinata? In another dimension. Kurama? In Himawari and weaker. Sasuke? In a tree. Gaara? Also in another dimension. Everyone is gone, and yeah, it’s tragic, but the shock effect wore off after Sasuke, it’s overdone now.

Every single character with depth is gone or hardly in the series. Sakura gets to stay because she’s a medic ig but as soon as Sarada needs a more dramatic route to her story, I guarantee she’s getting sealed off too.

The authors are scared to kill off actually important characters from the og series but are more than willing to ruin them. Everything is about them. Not Boruto.

No one was going to be happy with Boruto, I get that, people hate sequels. But the genuine apathy radiating off of that work kills me. The shock factor is over, move on.

I have so much more to rant about but I’ll end it here or I’ll never stop.

[srslyblvck]

the devil you know, avengers

pairing: avengers x fem!reader

synopsis: the avengers seem really desperate as they come to you—the person who went under their skin like no one else to help them win against hydra. while they are walking on eggshells around you, you are having fun causing chaos.

warnings: mentions of y/n (maybe), blood, violence, gore, sexual assault

word count: 3.9k

chapter: 10/?

series masterlist

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE SUN WAS SETTING, casting long shadows over the quiet, empty road as you and Bucky drove on, the old Cadillac’s engine humming as it sped down the rural highway. The landscape was sparse, fields stretching on either side of the road, with only the occasional farmhouse breaking up the horizon.

As the car rounded a bend, you spotted two figures up ahead—a couple standing by the roadside, looking a little worse for wear and waving their hands in an attempt to flag down a ride. You instinctively tensed, narrowing your eyes as you watched them. Something about it felt… off.

“Keep driving,” you muttered under your breath, eyeing the couple suspiciously.

But Bucky slowed the car, giving you a sidelong glance. “They look stranded. It’ll be fine.”

You let out a quiet huff, still watching them closely as the car slowed to a stop. “Fine,” you muttered, reluctantly. “But keep your eyes open.”

The couple hurried over, expressions of relief plastered across their faces as they climbed into the back seat, each settling into their spots with quick, grateful smiles.

“Thanks so much!” the guy said as he jogged up to the car. “Our car broke down a few miles back, and my phone’s dead. We just need a ride to the next town.”

“Sure, hop in,” Bucky replied, giving you a reassuring nod as they settled into the back seat.

As he pulled back onto the road, you leaned back in your seat, watching the couple through the rearview mirror. They were sitting a bit too straight, their eyes darting to each other every now and then, like they were keeping up a silent conversation. Something about their body language felt… practiced.

The guy noticed you staring and gave a polite smile, but there was a glint in his eyes that didn’t quite fit the friendly image. You smirked to yourself and casually unbuckled your seatbelt, causing Bucky to give you a sideways look.

“What are you doing?” he muttered under his breath.

Ignoring him, you turned around in your seat, eyeing the couple with a grin that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “You know,” you began, voice low and calm, “for two people hitching a ride, you sure seem pretty unprepared for this.”

The woman’s eyes flickered with a brief flash of recognition. But the guy kept up the innocent act, looking at Bucky as if for support. “I—sorry?”

“You heard me,” you continued, your voice dangerously calm. “Two ex-Hydra soldiers with a knack for sniffing out trouble. One’s a super soldier, the other one controls shadows.” You leaned forward, your gaze sharp. “So, why don’t you tell me who sent you?”

The couple exchanged a quick, fleeting glance. Bucky frowned, clearly baffled by your sudden change in tone. “What are you talking about?”

“Just drive,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on the couple.

The man’s friendly smile melted away, replaced by a smirk as he leaned back, letting out a dark chuckle. “Our boss said you’d figure it out. Knew you’d recognize us.”

At that, Bucky’s jaw clenched his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Your boss?” he repeated, his voice low and cautious.

The woman beside him grinned, pulling a sleek handgun from her jacket pocket and aiming it at you. Her partner did the same, two barrels glinting in the low light as the car kept moving down the desolate road.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, shadows coiled around your fingers as you reached out, controlling their shadows as they twisted up from beneath them, wrapping around their necks like tight, black tendrils. The guns fell from their hands, clattering to the floor, as they struggled against the suffocating darkness.

Your smirk grew wider. “Tell your boss to go to hell,” you whispered, grabbing one of the guns.

Then, without hesitating, you pulled the trigger twice, silencing both of them in an instant. Their bodies slumped, and the eerie silence filled the car, save for the low, continuous hum of the engine.

Bucky glanced back, face a mix of shock and confusion as he stared at the two bodies in the back seat. He looked at you, mouth slightly open as if trying to find the right words but coming up empty.

You wiped a stray speck of blood from your cheek with the back of your hand, giving him a look that was part exasperation, part amusement. “Did you really forget how Hydra plans things? They’re not just going to let us walk away without trying to stop us.”

Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head as he struggled to process what had just happened. “You could’ve warned me,” he managed, voice barely above a whisper.

You shrugged, slipping the gun into your bag. “Thought you could use the surprise. Besides,” you added, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth, “I didn’t want to ruin the fun.”

Bucky let out a sigh, finally finding his voice, though it was edged with disbelief. “There are two dead bodies in the back seat.”

You met his gaze, eyes glinting with that familiar hint of mischief. “Guess we need to find a new ride.”

After a good half-hour of driving in silence, with the two bodies stiff and slumped in the back seat, Bucky pulled the Cadillac off the main road and toward an old bridge that spanned a shallow creek. The bridge was rusted, the wood on the sides splintered, and no one else was around for miles. Bucky parked and cut the engine, giving the car one last, almost regretful look.

“Alright,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and glancing at you. “Let’s dump the car and get out of here.”

You nodded, grabbing the bag of supplies you’d picked up at the gas station and stepping out of the car, breathing in the cool, night air. The two of you pushed the Cadillac until it was just teetering at the edge of the bridge. With one last shove, it tipped over, crashing down into the creek below with a splash.

“Well, that’s taken care of,” you said, brushing your hands off. “Now, let’s find a way to blend in.”

A few minutes of walking brought you to a slightly rundown McDonald’s, its faded sign buzzing faintly. It wasn’t much, but the thought of greasy fries and a stolen vehicle to get back on the road was a relief.

“This place might be even sketchier than that car we just dumped,” Bucky muttered as you both approached.

You snorted, glancing around the empty parking lot. The one saving grace? No cameras. That was a small miracle. “Perfect. All we need now is a set of keys.”

As you walked into the McDonald’s, your eyes scanned the patrons, looking for anyone with a half-decent car and, ideally, someone who wouldn’t notice they’d been robbed until you were long gone. Then you saw him—a lanky, thin man sitting alone in the corner, scrolling through his phone and sipping from an oversized drink. His car keys were lazily dropped on the table beside him.

“That’s our guy,” you murmured to Bucky. “Stay put. I’ll take care of it.”

You strolled over casually, taking a long route around the tables before “accidentally” bumping into him, your hand brushing the keys off the table in the process. “Oh, sorry about that!” you said, offering an apologetic smile as you snatched the keys up in a swift motion.

“No problem, sweetheart,” the man replied, looking up with a grin that immediately sent a chill down your spine. He looked you up and down, a little too long, his gaze landing on your waist as he leaned in closer. “Though, maybe we could make it up to each other?”

Your polite smile froze, and you stepped back, already disgusted, but his hand darted out, resting on your lower back as he leaned into your ear. “You came over here for a reason, didn’t you?”

You fought the urge to shove him, trying to stay under the radar. “Back off,” you said, keeping your tone low but firm. When you tried to step away, his fingers closed around your wrist, holding you in place.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” he murmured, his grip tightening. “You wanted something from me, didn’t you?”

Just as your patience snapped and you were about to clock him across the face, a hand gripped the back of his collar and yanked him out of his chair, sending him sprawling onto the floor. You looked up to see Bucky standing beside you, his eyes dark with anger as he stared down at the man.

“Touch her again,” Bucky growled, his voice low and lethal, “and you’ll regret it.”

The guy looked up, stunned, and wisely kept his mouth shut as he scuttled back, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Bucky. Meanwhile, Bucky turned to you, his hand unconsciously resting on your waist as he guided you away from the scene. You barely noticed, too busy glaring at the guy as you left him to nurse his bruised ego.

Once you were clear of the crowd, you turned to Bucky, feeling a mixture of irritation and relief. “I was handling it just fine.”

He rolled his eyes, releasing his hold on your waist. “Oh yeah, you were doing great. Right up until he was about to assault you.”

You huffed, looking away. “Fine, thanks. Or whatever.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, softer than you’d intended. You didn’t mean for him to hear, but he did, and he stilled.

Bucky gave you a curious look, his brows furrowing as though trying to process the fact that you’d actually thanked him. But you quickly averted your gaze, pressing the button on the stolen car key fob to find the vehicle. Somewhere behind you, Bucky was still standing there, half in shock.

The sound of the car unlocking drew both of your attention to a sleek, black Jeep in the back of the lot.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about,” you said, raising an eyebrow, satisfied.

The black Jeep rumbled along the desolate road, the landscape gradually shifting as you and Bucky crossed into Michigan. You’d been driving for the past hour, much to Bucky’s visible discomfort, as he occasionally clutched the edge of the seat like it might save him if you veered off course.

“Relax, Barnes,” you muttered, smirking as you glanced at him. “I’ve got this.”

“Sure, because that last turn didn’t almost kill us,” he replied, his tone dry as sandpaper.

You waved him off, turning your attention back to the road. The tension eased slightly as the first signs of civilization began to dot the horizon—a tiny, rundown tourist shop with a weathered sign boasting MAPS, SOUVENIRS, AND SNACKS. You pulled into the gravel parking lot, killing the engine and hopping out.

“Alright,” you said, stretching your arms over your head. “Let’s get this over with.”

Bucky frowned as he followed you toward the shop. “What are we even doing here?”

“Mapping things out for the others, obviously,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “I can’t have them wandering around like clueless tourists. Well… not that they’ll find this place easily even with directions.”

Inside, the shop was as rundown as the exterior suggested. Dusty shelves lined with expired snacks and faded postcards greeted you, along with an elderly man behind the counter who barely looked up as you entered. You made a beeline for the map stand, grabbing three identical folded maps of Michigan.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as you grabbed a red marker from a nearby display. “What’s with the marker?”

“Watch and learn, old man,” you said, plopping the maps onto the counter and spreading one open. With quick, precise strokes, you drew a route leading to your safe house, marking each map with a red circle at the final destination. “Now everyone gets their very own DIY treasure map.”

“Very thoughtful of you,” Bucky deadpanned.

“Right?” you said with a grin, folding the maps and tucking them into your jacket.

As you walked outside, you scanned the area until your eyes landed on a red trashcan far enough from the shop to seem inconspicuous. With an exaggerated flourish, you dropped the maps inside.

“There. Done,” you said, brushing your hands together. “Now, all we have to do is wait for them to catch up.”

Back in the Jeep, you grabbed the walkie-talkie and leaned back in your seat, your voice cutting through the static.

“Hey, everyone. Just thought I’d point out that none of you seemed even slightly concerned about where the safe house is. Not a single word about it. Kind of hurtful, really.” You smirked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “But since I’m a generous and very nice person, I’ve left you all a little present.”

The walkie crackled before Steve’s voice replied, cautious as ever. “What kind of present?”

“Oh, nothing major,” you said, dragging it out for effect. “Just some maps. You’ll find them in the trashcan at the tourist shop right after you cross into Michigan. Red trashcan, can’t miss it.”

Tony’s voice cut in, sharp and skeptical. “Wait, you made maps? And put them in a trashcan?”

“Yes, Stark,” you said with mock patience. “And I even used a red marker. It’s very professional.”

“Professional?” Clint chimed in, laughing. “You’re sending us on a scavenger hunt!”

“It’s not my fault you guys didn’t think to ask where the place is,” you replied, feigning innocence. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Natasha’s voice came through next, calm but clearly amused. “I’ll admit, this is better than wandering aimlessly.”

“See? Nat gets it,” you said smugly. “Anyway, maps are there. Don’t lose them, or you’re on your own.”

“Noted,” Steve said, his tone dry.

“And hurry up,” you added, smirking as you leaned back in your seat. “Bucky and I might finish all the snacks before you get here.”

There was a pause before Sam’s voice came through, chuckling. “If you don’t kill each other first.”

You grinned, setting the walkie down and glancing at Bucky, who was giving you his usual unimpressed look.

“What?” you asked innocently.

“You really put the maps in a trashcan,” he said, shaking his head.

“Hey, it adds character,” you said, starting the Jeep again. “Now, let’s go. We’ve got bonding to do.”

Bucky groaned, leaning back in his seat as the Jeep rolled onto the road again. “This is going to be a long day.”

The Jeep rolled along the bumpy countryside road, the faint glow of the setting sun casting warm hues across the fields. You had your hands firmly on the wheel, the hum of the engine the only sound filling the quiet. Bucky, sitting in the passenger seat, looked out the window with his usual stoic expression, but his fingers tapped absently on his knee—a telltale sign of his irritation.

It wasn’t until the silence stretched into something a little too long that you decided to break it.

“So, Barnes,” you said, throwing him a quick glance, “you got any favorite road trip songs? Or do you just sit in silence, brooding like a moody teenager?”

He turned to you, eyebrow raised. “Brooding?”

“Yeah, brooding,” you repeated with a grin, keeping your eyes on the road. “You know, arms crossed, staring out the window, thinking about your tragic past or whatever.”

Bucky sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t brood.”

“Sure,” you said, drawing the word out. “You don’t brood. You just sulk in a very manly way.”

He gave you a pointed look. “You talk too much.”

“Thanks. I try.”

You reached forward, flicking on the radio, and immediately regretted it as static filled the car. Frowning, you twisted the knob, cycling through channels until you found something halfway decent—a peppy pop song that instantly clashed with the rugged energy of the Jeep.

“Oh, this is perfect,” you said, cranking up the volume.

Bucky looked at you like you’d just committed a crime. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” you asked, feigning innocence as you started bopping your head to the beat. “You don’t like it? I think it suits the vibe.”

“The vibe of what? A clown car?” he muttered, reaching for the dial.

You smacked his hand away. “Hands off. Driver picks the music.”

“Driver also nearly killed us twice today,” he shot back.

“Oh, relax,” you said with a laugh, swerving the car slightly just to mess with him. His hand immediately shot out to steady himself on the dashboard, his eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of something lighter in his expression—a hint of amusement he didn’t bother to hide.

After a while, the two of you pulled into a tiny rest stop—a place that looked like it had been forgotten by time, complete with peeling paint and a vending machine that seemed more decorative than functional. You stretched as you stepped out of the Jeep, glancing around.

“Well, it’s not exactly five-star, but it’ll do,” you said, heading toward the vending machine.

Bucky followed, watching as you squinted at the dusty selection of snacks behind the scratched glass. “What are you even trying to get? Those things are probably older than I am.”

“Funny,” you said, pointing to a packet of chips. “I bet this bag’s fresher than your jokes.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue as you fished some coins from your pocket and punched in the number. The machine whirred, the chips moving slowly toward the edge before stopping halfway.

“Are you kidding me?” you muttered, crouching down to glare at the stubborn bag.

Bucky crossed his arms, watching you struggle. “Karma.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, shaking the machine. It didn’t budge.

With a sigh, you stepped back and gestured to him. “Alright, big guy. Time to put those super-soldier muscles to work. Get my chips.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you said, crossing your arms. “Come on, Captain Metal Arm. Impress me.”

Bucky let out a low chuckle but stepped forward. With one casual push, he tilted the vending machine just enough for the bag to drop. He grabbed it and handed it to you, his expression unreadable.

You took the chips, opening the bag with exaggerated flair. “And they say chivalry is dead.”

“Next time, you’re on your own,” he replied, but the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, betraying his amusement.

As the two of you sat on the hood of the Jeep, sharing the chips and watching the sun dip below the horizon, the tension of the day began to melt away.

“You know,” you said after a while, tossing a chip into your mouth, “you’re not as bad as I thought.”

Bucky glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. “Gee, thanks.”

“No, really,” you said with a grin. “You’ve got this whole brooding, tough guy thing going on, but deep down, you’re just a big softie.”

He shook his head, but there was a trace of a smile on his lips. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Never,” you replied, smirking as you held up the bag of chips. “Want the last one?”

He reached for it, but you pulled it away at the last second, popping it into your mouth with a mischievous grin.

“Child,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Grump,” you shot back, leaning back on the hood with a satisfied sigh.

The quiet between you was lighter now, the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled. For once, the weight of everything—the mission, Hydra, the constant running—seemed to fade, if only for a little while.

The Jeep creaked as it rolled along the uneven dirt road, kicking up small clouds of dust in its wake. The countryside around you gradually began to shift into something more picturesque—open grassy fields stretched endlessly on either side, dotted with wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. The sky above was a brilliant shade of blue, unmarred by pollution or city haze, and in the distance, you could see small cottages scattered across the rolling hills.

You pulled the Jeep to a stop near the edge of the village, cutting the engine. For a moment, neither of you moved, both taking in the view before you.

Bucky was the first to step out, his boots crunching against the gravel as he surveyed the area. His expression softened—confusion giving way to quiet amusement, and then to something almost admiring.

“This is it?” he asked, his voice low.

You stepped out, standing by the Jeep as the breeze ruffled your hair. “This is it,” you said softly, your tone carrying a hint of nostalgia.

Bucky turned, looking around with a kind of cautious curiosity. The place was nothing like he’d expected—serene, untouched, almost too peaceful for someone like him, or even for someone like you. He caught sight of a small group of children running across a grassy field in the distance, their laughter rising above the whisper of the wind.

“It’s… nice,” he said, his voice almost hesitant.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you stood there, your gaze fixed on the horizon, where the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting golden light over the landscape. The breeze shifted again, and for a moment, Bucky was distracted—not by the scenery, but by you.

The way the sunlight framed your face, softening the usual sharpness of your features. The rare, peaceful expression you wore, as if this place had pulled you into a memory too distant to touch but impossible to ignore. Your hair moved gently with the breeze, and the faintest trace of a smile played on your lips—one that was neither sarcastic nor guarded.

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly, his confusion mingling with something he couldn’t quite name.

“This place… you’ve been here before,” he said, more a statement than a question.

You glanced at him, the momentary warmth in your expression replaced with your usual mask of indifference. “Yeah. A long time ago.”

He didn’t press, sensing that whatever history this place held for you wasn’t something you were ready to share. Instead, he looked around again, letting the calmness of the village settle over him.

“This is a good spot,” he said finally, nodding to himself. “Safe. Quiet.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, your gaze drifting back toward the horizon. “It’s the kind of place that makes you forget the rest of the world exists.”

The two of you stood there for a while, the silence filled with the sound of the wind rustling the grass and the distant clamor of life in the village. It was a rare moment—one where neither of you felt the weight of everything chasing you.

After a while, Bucky glanced at you again. “How long do you think it’ll take for the others to get here?”

“Knowing them?” you said with a smirk, leaning against the Jeep. “Probably long enough for you to fall asleep waiting.”

Bucky huffed a soft laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back against the Jeep beside you. The two of you waited, side by side, as the peacefulness of the village continued to wrap around you like a cocoon, keeping the chaos of the outside world at bay.

dividers by @dollywons

[extinctlesspains]

Uhmmm you can’t just post sensei wolf and not put out a fic 😭🤚 pretty please ma’am he’s to hot to not have one

A/n: IKKK I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR IDEAS FOR HIM AND I FINALLY GOT SOME 😭😭

𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡: 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑥 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝. 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠:𝐹𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛.

■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■

The Sekai Taikai tournament was alive with the sounds of determination—punches landing, kiais echoing, feet pivoting on the mats. The air held the scent of sweat and effort, but beneath the surface, an unspoken tension simmered. You felt it in every sideways glance, every lingering silence between you and Sensei Wolf.

The rivalry on the mat wasn’t the only battle being fought.

You paced the perimeter of the building, correcting stances, offering encouragement, pushing your students harder than usual. Their success in the Sekai Taikai was non-negotiable, and you couldn’t afford distractions. Especially not him.

Wolf mirrored your movements on the other side of the room, his voice cutting through the air as he barked commands at his own team. The intensity in his eyes, the unwavering authority—it was the same confidence that had once drawn you in, before everything fell apart.

Memories pressed at the edges of your mind: late-night training sessions that turned into shared confessions, quiet moments of understanding, and then... the fallout. Harsh words, misunderstandings, pride. It was easier to pretend none of it mattered, but each passing day made that facade harder to maintain.

When the session ended, the students filed out, their chatter fading into the evening air. You stayed behind in the training room. , running through drills alone, the rhythmic movements a welcome distraction. But you felt his presence before you saw him.

“You don’t have to stay late every night.”

You didn’t turn around. “Neither do you.”

Wolf’s footsteps were soft but deliberate as he approached. He stopped a few feet away, the silence stretching like a taut wire between you. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but steady.

“I messed up.”

The words hung in the air, unexpected and heavy. You turned to face him, arms crossed. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

He met your gaze, eyes searching yours for a flicker of the understanding you used to share. “It’s not supposed to mean something. It does.” He hesitated, then continued, his voice softer. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened... between us. I didn’t handle it right.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “That’s an understatement.”

Wolf sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not too proud to say it—I’m sorry. I let my ego get in the way. I thought I had all the answers, but I didn’t.”

You wanted to hold on to your anger, to the walls you’d built around yourself, but his words chipped away at him.

“Why now, Wolf?” Your voice was quieter than you intended. “What’s changed?”

He took a step closer, the vulnerability in his eyes catching you off guard. “Everything. This tournament, these kids... they need us. And I need...” He trailed off, the words hanging between you. “I can’t do this without you.”

Your heart clenched. There it was—the raw honesty you hadn’t seen in so long. “You think saying sorry fixes everything?”

He shook his head. “No. But it’s a start.”

The training room felt smaller, the space between you shrinking. Memories of what you’d built together, both on and off the mat, flooded back. The arguments, yes, but also the laughter, the trust, the shared dream of making these kids stronger than either of you had ever been.

“I don’t know if I can just forget, Wolf.”

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking for a second chance—to prove that I’ve changed. That we can fix this.”

Silence stretched again, but this time it felt different—softer, filled with possibility. You studied him, the sincerity in his eyes, the weight of the words he wasn’t saying. Finally, you sighed.

“One chance, Wolf. Don’t waste it.”

A rare, genuine smile broke across his face. “I won’t.”

As you both stood there, the tension between you shifted, the first cracks appearing in the walls you’d both built. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start—a fragile truce built on hope and shared history.

The real fight was just beginning, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were facing it alone.

[baekhyunsbestie]

expanding on baekhyun beating it to his so's pics to say imagine him facetiming her in the middle of it cuz he needs to really see herrrr and ur like hi bby wait why is ur face so concentrated and also why is ur arm moving up and down underneath the camera and OH o_o

omgggg i can picture this sooooo vividly it hurts 😭😭😭😭 i literally had to write about it!!!!

18+/MDNI!! | wc: 1.6k+

you and baekhyun have each other’s locations shared, as couples and loved ones often do these days. he’s currently out of the country for a packed schedule and won’t be back for a few more days. you’ve both adjusted to the chaos of his life, as hard as it can be. but the bond you share? unshakable, no matter the distance or time apart.

tonight, though, he’s lying alone in his hotel bed, missing you more than usual. he knows you had plans with your friends, a rare night out you’ve been needing for a while. he checks the time: 11:30 p.m. back home. too early for you to be back, and he knows it.

still, he can’t help himself. he checks your location.

still at the bar.

he exhales, sinking deeper into his pillow. he doesn’t want to bother you. you deserve this—an escape from the stress that’s been weighing you down. he’d rather you enjoy yourself than feel guilty for being out late.

so instead, he unlocks his phone and opens instagram, likely to doom-scroll through endless posts, letting the minutes slip away as he waits for you to get home safely and for the comfort of your nightly goodnight call.

but then, your story flickers onto the screen, pulling him in, a sudden spark in the otherwise dull scroll.

the first post is a mirror selfie: hair falling just right, effortlessly perfect, makeup soft yet glowing, and that simple black dress—one of his many favorites—clinging to your curves in all the right ways. when he notices the timestamp, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. you sent this to him first. it’s a small gesture, but it makes his heart swell.

the next slide is a quick clip of you and your girls, all glammed up, drinks in hand, raising your glasses with laughter as the music blares in the background. your happiness is so tangible, so infectious, and it warms him to see you this carefree.

then, there’s a repost from your friend. it’s a grainy but adorable video of you and her dancing, swaying in sync with the beat. the way you playfully twerk on her, both of you giggling uncontrollably, is far from suggestive—just two besties reveling in the moment.

but baekhyun is a man. and men? they think with their dicks.

his mind wanders, lingering on the way that dress clung to you, the way your body moved. and now, no matter how much he tries to focus on how happy you look, he’s suddenly cursing the miles between you, wishing for the kind of proximity that doesn’t involve a screen.

he checks the time again: 11:37 p.m.

the urge to reach out to you—text, call, anything—burns hotter with every passing second. he’s jittery, restless, the kind of edgy that leaves his leg bouncing uncontrollably. would you even answer if he called? the thought gnaws at him. god, he misses you. he misses the nights you’d stumble out of bars, dialing him with drunken, slurred words. how you'd insist you weren’t done drinking because the only thing left on your menu was him.

shit. the memories alone have him stiffening in his bed, blood rushing south faster than he can stop it. the sound of your drunk giggles, your uninhibited honesty spilling out between hiccupped words. the way your hands would roam without permission, needy and brazen. he exhales a shaky breath. the ache in his boxers is unbearable now.

he can’t take it anymore.

his fingers unlock his phone, navigating to the photos app to access the hidden folder only you know about. his secret stash. a digital gallery of you: alone, with him, under him, and on top of him. his free hand drifts to his leaking cock as his thumb swipes through the memories.

you knew about this folder, of course. you had your own—filled with matching treasures. you both had this shared indulgence, a mutual obsession. pictures and videos from every angle: your hands clutching the sheets while he buried his face between your thighs. you straddling him, his camera catching the perfect view of your curves. shaky, raw footage of backshots, his hands leaving fiery-red imprints on your skin as you moaned his name into the mattress.

you needed these to survive the nights apart, a remedy for the distance that stung like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

truthfully, even if you saw each other every day, you’d still keep these folders. you both had a thing for cameras, for the thrill of capturing your rawest moments together.

his fist wraps around his length, the other clutching his phone as he presses play. it’s a video of you riding him, your hips grinding against him in a slow, torturous rhythm. the camera shakes slightly—it’s shot from his perspective, the faint tremble of his arm betraying how badly he was already losing it then.

his lips part, breath hitching, and his heart pounds loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. but it’s not enough. it never is. he needs more.

he needs you.

he taps the screen, fingers shaking as he hits 'facetime.'

you answer on the second ring.

it’s 12:55 a.m.

your face comes into view, filling the screen with a teasing smile as you nudge open the door to your shared penthouse. the faint hum of city lights spills in behind you, but all your attention is on him. one glance is enough—his brows are knitted together, lips slightly parted, the cool glow of his phone illuminating his face and glistening off his glossy lips. you know exactly why he’s calling.

“hi, baby,” you slur, voice syrupy with just enough bite, “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too, my angel,” he exhales, his voice barely more than a whisper, chest rising and falling in measured, aching pulls. from where you stand, you see everything—the way his shirt clings to his body, damp in all the right places, the faint quiver of his lips holding back words he’s too desperate to say. the sound of his breath, uneven and needy, fills the air between you. his gaze burns, molten and consuming, pouring his hunger into every inch of your skin.

you giggle, a sound light and teasing, as you saunter toward your shared room. "i can tell, lover."

his smile is shy, almost boyish, but not enough to stop the slow, steady stroke of his hand over his aching length. "home already?"

you nod, a quiet hum slipping past your lips as you step into the closet, the soft shuffle of your feet muted against the carpet. your fingers trail over the familiar fabrics until they find your favorite pajamas. as you pull them from their place, you cross the room to the dresser, propping your phone against its edge. the glow of the screen bathes the space in muted light, capturing him on the other side—his hand moving with practiced rhythm, his flushed face a picture of unguarded bliss, every gasp and twitch drawing you deeper into the moment.

"ya looked so beautiful tonight. fuck—" his words falter, the shaky gasp making your thighs press together. "y’know i love that dress on you. can’t believe i wasn’t—hah—there to fuck you in it."

you grin, a wicked curl tugging at the corners of your lips. “i could keep this dress on a little longer for you if you’d like me to, baekhyunie,” you purr, your voice a delicate weave of honey and innocence, teasing just enough to leave him craving.

his breath hitches, a sharp exhale breaking free as his head falls back, throat exposed in a display of surrender. “hah— fuck, s-say that again,” he rasps, eyes clenched shut like he’s bracing himself against the tidal wave you’ve unleashed. his hand moves faster now, the slick sound of his strokes filling the space between you.

you tilt your head, feigning naivety, your eyes wide and sweet like sugar dusted cherries. “huh? say what, baekhyunie?” your voice lilts with mock innocence, the act so it’s almost cruel.

as you shift, the delicate strap of your dress slips, baring your shoulder and collarbone—a canvas of temptation. soft, lickable, and oh-so-bitable. baekhyun's gaze sears through the screen, his mind unraveling with reckless fantasies, aching to bridge the distance and claim you, over and over again, losing himself in you until the sun rises.

the sight of you, the way his name drips from your lips—it’s his undoing. his rhythm falters, the once-steady motion of his hand becoming erratic, desperate. he’s unraveling, and you can see it in the furrow of his brow, hear it in the staggered cadence of his breath. you lean closer, your voice dropping into a sultry whisper.

“gonna cum f’me, baekhyunie?”

the way your voice softens his name, rolling off those plush lips, breaks him into pieces. the sensation crashes over him, an overwhelming rush that leaves him shaking, the heat of his release spilling in thick, white streaks across his toned stomach, splattering his shirt in wild, chaotic lines. your name escapes him in a breathless murmur as he rides the last tremors of his high.

you smile, satisfied with the mess you’ve made of him, the power you wield with nothing but your voice and a knowing glance.

as he comes down, his chest heaving, baekhyun peels his ruined shirt off, using it to clean himself up. when his face reappears on the screen, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, a wicked curve to his mouth.

“your turn, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice still rough with pleasure.

[vienna-fiore]

I’m putting on a smile, but inside, I feel like I’m unraveling. I can’t sleep, not really. Every time I try, my mind races with every “what if” imaginable. What if Sunny’s blanket shifts? What if she stops breathing and I don’t notice? So instead of sleeping, I watch her. I sit by her bassinet in the dead of night, straining to hear every little sound she makes, barely blinking just to make sure her tiny chest keeps rising and falling.

It’s like I’ve forgotten how to eat, too. Food feels pointless when all I can think about is Sunny — when she’s awake, when she’s asleep, if she’s okay, if I’m doing enough. I nibble here and there, but nothing feels appetizing. It’s like my body is in a constant state of tension, like I’m holding my breath all day long.

I haven’t left the house since her newborn check-up, and even that felt like stepping into a minefield. Every cough, every stranger who got too close — it all felt like a threat. The idea of taking her out again is unbearable. What if something happens? What if someone touches her, or if the world outside is just too much for her tiny, fragile body?

My roots are growing in, and I can’t bring myself to care. I used to take such pride in how I looked, in keeping myself together. Now, I barely recognize myself when I catch a glimpse in the mirror. My hair’s a mess, my skin looks dull, and I’m still in the same sweats I’ve been wearing for days. I know I should care—I know this isn’t me—but the thought of doing anything for myself feels impossible.

And yet, I can’t let anyone see this. What would they think of me? A bad mom? Weak? Ungrateful? Lorenzo’s been so good, so supportive, and I smile and tell him I’m just tired, but the truth is, I feel like I’m going insane. I can’t tell Nicola or Gemma or Chiara. I can’t tell anyone. They’d say I need help, but all I need is to get through this.

I just have to survive the newborn stage, right? It’ll get better. She’ll get bigger, and I’ll sleep again, and I’ll remember how to be me. It has to get better. Until then, I’ll just keep watching her, making sure she’s okay. If I can keep her safe, then I can handle this. I have to.

[elephantlovemedleys]

.

[shoveitevil]

i high key think my paretnrs might be getting divorced :((( they have been fighting basically every night since i can remember but they always fought so i just accepted it but they started to go sleep at other people’s houses more and mum went away for almost a week and dad keeps going on work trips and tonight is the first time this has happened for two times in a row dads car is just missing and they keep fighting always always always i sometimes can’t go to sleep bcs they are always talking and mum is always crying now even though the entire time before i was 10 she cried only once in front of me and that was when grandad died. my mum literally had to take my therapy appointment (which i really really needed bcs ive been feeling like absolute shit lately) for herself because she was feeling awful. its all dads fault i really dont like my dad anymore he was never emotionally present when i was younger and he’s still barely emotionally present now. i think there is a very good reason his first marriage went badly and i think there’s a very good reason that for almost 2 years all my stepsisters hated my dad and i think there’s a very good reason why the girls stopped coming over for weekends but its not like my mum is perfect she always defends my brother im always in the wrong when i get in trouble and shes very generous with school and stuff but she enables josh and his awful behaviour i feel like i cant have shit in this house i cant wait to move out

[scientia-rex]

When I was in ninth grade I wanted to challenge what I saw as a very stupid dress code policy (not being allowed to wear spikes regardless of the size or sharpness of the spikes). My dad said to me, “What is your objective?”

He said it over and over. I contemplated that. I wanted to change an unfair dress code. What did I stand to gain? What did I stand to lose? If what I really wanted was to change the dress code, what would be my most effective potential approach? (He also gave me Discourses on the Fall of Rome by Titus Livius, Machiavelli’s magnum opus. Of course he’d already given me The Prince, Five Rings, and The Art of War.)

I ultimately printed out that phrase, coated it in Mod Podge, and clipped it to my bathroom mirror so I would look at it and think about it every day.

What is your objective?

Forget about how you feel. Ask yourself, what do you want to see happen? And then ask, how can you make it happen? Who needs to agree with you? Who has the power to implement this change? What are the points where you have leverage over them? If you use that leverage now, will you impair your ability to use it in the future? Getting what you want is about effectiveness. It is not about being an alpha or a sigma or whatever other bullshit the men’s right whiners are on about now. You won’t find any MRA talking points in Musashi, because they are not relevant.

I had no clear leverage on the dress code issue. My parents were not on the PTA; neither were any of my friend’s parents who liked me. The teachers did not care about this. Ultimately I just wore what I wanted, my patent leather collar from Hot Topic with large but flattened spikes, and I had guessed correctly—the teachers also did not care enough to discipline me.

I often see people on tumblr, mostly the very young, flail around in discourse. They don’t have an objective. They don’t know what they want to achieve, and they have never thought about strategizing and interpersonal effectiveness. No one can get everything they want by being an asshole. You must be able to work with other people, and that includes smiling when you hate them.

Read Machiavelli. Start with The Prince, but then move on to Discourses. Read Musashi’s Five Rings. Read The Art of War. They’re classics for a reason. They can’t cover all situations, but they can do more for how you think about strategizing than anything you’re getting in middle school and high school curricula.

Don’t vote third party unless you can tell me not only what your objective is but also why this action stands a meaningful chance of accomplishing it. Otherwise, back up and approach your strategy from a new angle. I don’t care how angry you are with Biden right now. He knows about it, and he is both trying to do something and not doing enough. I care about what will happen to millions of people if we have another Trump presidency. Look up Ross Perot, and learn from our past. Find your objective. If it is to stop the genocide in Palestine now, call your elected representatives now. They don’t care about emails; they care about phone calls, because they live in the past. I know this because I shadowed a lobbyist, because knowing how power works is critical to using it.

How do you think I have gotten two clinics to start including gender care in their planning?

Start small. Chip away. Keep working. Find your leverage; figure out how and when to effectively use it. Choose your battles, so that you can concentrate on the battle at hand instead of wasting your resources in many directions. Learn from the accumulated wisdom of people who spent their lives learning by doing, by making mistakes, by watching the mistakes of their enemies.

Don’t be a dickhead. Be smarter than I was at 14. Ask yourself: what is your objective?

[euno11a]

it is proven that majority of women can’t orgasm from intercourse alone. So imagine reader who can’t make herself cum, no matter how she touches her swollen little bud.

it’s becoming more annoying as you keep trying, different speeds, pressures, and angles, but nothing seems to work for you! It’s gotten to the point where you’ve quite frankly given up on even touching yourself. You’ve tried for so long, yet always get nothing.

so imagine telling Simon when he asks you, oh so kindly when on deployment, to touch yourself with him to make you both feel good. The silence over the phone when you say you can’t.

“What?”

“I just can’t. I’ve tried, but it just doesn’t work for me.”

“‘Ave ya-?”

“I’ve done everything, Simon! I can’t, okay?”

it was clear that this was something that you weren’t comfortable with talking about. It made you upset that you didn’t “function correctly” like other women. So the night Simon came home, he greeted you with a soft kiss. There wasn’t any harsh underlying emotion, just soft and sweet love. His large and calloused hands would cup your cheeks and look at your eyes, watching the slight confusion slip into your gaze.

now laying against his sturdier chest, looking at yourself in the mirror with him behind you, you knew what was happening. He gently pulled down your sleeping pants, taking his time to let his fingertips brush against every inch of your thighs, all the way down to your ankles. And soon enough, off came your panties too. He started by admiring the slight glistening of your slick right by your entrance, using his fingers to gently dip into the fluid that he loved. Dragging his fingers upwards, he brought his fingertips to the side of your clit, letting your slick be the lube for his fingers.

Simon looked at you through the mirror, keeping eye contact as his fingers pressed onto your clit. The gasp that left your lips was sudden, almost reaching down to grab his wrist, but stopping when he gave you a stern warning look. Everything felt different - his touch felt electrifying, while yours felt like watching paint dry. Why was it so different? Your eyes fluttered shut, head resting on his shoulder when he started speeding up his small circular motion. Your thighs spread a little more, shuddering when you felt a build up in your lower tummy. That burn you never felt unless you used a toy, the burn you got before you were clouded with euphoria; it was coming. You let out small squeaks and whimpers as your hips lifted and you came undone. Usually that’s when you’d stop, let your body just relax, but Simon kept a firm hand across your torso, using his leg to keep yours pinned down so he could still rub you till complete satisfaction.

once his movements slowed and he was panting along with you slightly, he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, looking at your eyes through the mirror again.

“I don’t care what time of day it is, if ye need t’cum, y’tell me and I’ll help, love. Alrigh’?”

you mustered a small nod, droopy eyes falling to the wet and sticky mess between your thighs, and the lovely hands that helped you along the way.

[yorkscoffee]

persona 3 reload is pretty good aside from an apparent lack of proofreading, but i cannot get over them just telling you the answer to the love hotel puzzle

WHY are you taking game out of my game? it's not even a difficult puzzle???

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: what do you do when your boyfriend cheats? you go to his house and look for revenge, and you get it by fucking his dad! NSFW

contents: fem!reader. age gap, blowjob, praise, degradation, use of slut, slight dumbification, dirty talk, and possibly more. 2.6K words.

you should've known that dating a rich boy came with more than just the money—it came with a shitty boyfriend too. 

as you walk to his house, rain falling in your eyes, you curse every time he had you do his homework, his bills, even his fucking laundry. that's what you get for dating the spoiled heir to the massive gojo fortune.

you step onto the gojo estate's porch, wondering what possessed you to come all the way here in the middle of the night without an umbrella. thank god you still had the key your ex had given you, since he was too stupid to remember to take it back after he dumped you.

hands shaking from the cold, you slip the key into the lock and turn, a small smile dancing across your lips when it opens as easily as your ex's legs. he was probably out fucking another girl right now, if the pictures on his instagram story were any hint of his whereabouts.

you push the door open with your shoulder and dry your feet on the doormat. his parents are never home, and it's late enough for the staff to have all gone back to their quarters. besides, even if one or two were still here, they probably didn't know you weren't their spoiled brat's girlfriend anymore.

humming the post-breakup revenge song you'd been listening to for the past hour, you tie up your hair and look around. the only reason you walked all the way here in the middle of a dark, stormy night was for revenge, and you weren't leaving without it.

on the way to your ex's room, you stop in one of the bathrooms to dry off. rainwater slides off your body as you wring out your hair in the sink, water dripping down your wrist as you do so.

you walk the familiar path to your ex's room, rolling your eyes when you see a bra on the floor that definitely isn't yours. funnily enough, you aren't surprised. there's no hurt, no sadness, just disgust. your suspicions were right—he was fucking other girls while the two of you dated. 

a sigh slips through your lips as you look around his room. it's messy, even with the help from the gojo estate's numerous staff. they say bigger rooms naturally look cleaner, and yet your ex's room still manages to mirror his mind—filthy.

you're so immersed in the thousand ideas you have to ruin your ex's life that when a deep, sleep-ridden voice asks you what the fuck you're doing in his house, you nearly jump out of your skin.

you spin around, words caught in your throat when you come face-to-face with satoru gojo, your ex-boyfriend's dad and the infamous head of the gojo family.

it's more than shameful that the first thought you have is that shit, he's hot. you've met before, but it was only in passing. satoru's never around, and the extent of your relationship was a brief nod as he passed you in one of the many passageways in the gojo estate. in fact, you aren't entirely sure if he even knows who you are.

satoru gojo's well-known in japan—not only is he the reason the gojo family has its reputation, but he's made quite a name for himself by being the most affluent and handsome of them all. 

you've heard stories about him back in his prime. most sound too far-fetched to be true, but the photos of him in his twenties that resurface from time-to-time make good material for your late-night fantasies. 

and satoru's even more intimidating in person. he's easily over six feet tall with well-defined muscles, and he's the definition of a dilf. he's probably twice your age, but the glint in his eyes and casual arrogance in his stance makes him all the more attractive.

it's a shame his son is such a dickhead.

"are you one of my son's whores?" satoru asks dryly, eying the bra on the floor. you scowl and kick it away, a soft huff slipping through your lips.

"no, i'm— wait, he never told you?" you cut yourself off with the question, a hint of incredulous disbelief in your tone. 

satoru shrugs, reaching up to ruffle his hair. his shirt slides up just enough to expose his abs, which are really fucking hot by any standards. "if you're asking about my son, he thankfully leaves me out of his sex life," he says amusedly. "so, who are you? and what the hell are you doing in my house this late?"

"i—" well, you couldn't just say you were here to ruin his son's life. "uh, i'm his... girlfriend."

satoru barks out a laugh, looking down at you through his long, white eyelashes. "really? you sure you're dating my son?"

you narrow your eyes and nod. satoru shakes his head, slipping one of his hands in his pocket and gesturing to the bra on the floor with the other. "either you aren't his girlfriend or you just found out he's cheating. which is it?"

well, you tried. "both." satoru raises his eyebrows at that and takes a seat on the chair across from his son's bed, exhaling as he does so. 

"so, sweetheart, what's the story?" he asks, a bored expression on his face. he leans back and spreads his legs enough for you to wonder what it'd be like to be in between them. 

not sensing that you really have a choice, you sit on the corner of his son's bed and start explaining. at first, you sugarcoat his son's actions, not wanting to sound like a whiny brat, but at one point he interjects with a sigh.

"i know my son," he says dryly, brushing his floppy white hair out of his eyes. "and i also know a liar when i see one."

"s' that so?" you mutter under your breath, ignoring the way satoru's eyes narrow at your side comment. from then on, you list every detail of just how shitty your ex was to you. you tell satoru how his son made you fold his clothes, how he dragged you to parties even when you swore you had homework, how he'd make you fu—

you stop there, not wanting to divulge every detail of your sex life. sure, your ex forced you to fuck him every night in every way he knew existed from watching porn, but that wasn't for his dad to know.

satoru, who's been listening intently for the last five minutes, studies your irritated expression thoughtfully. rather than comment on the way you suddenly stopped ranting, he asks, "so you're here for revenge?"

you nod, crossing your legs. satoru eyes you for another second before placing his hands on his knees and standing up with a soft grunt. "do whatever you want, but i want you out of my house in fifteen minutes. and whatever you do stays in this room. no fire."

satoru looks down at you and raises an eyebrow. "is that clear?"

it would be easier to agree if satoru wasn't looking down at you with an expression like that on his face. it's somewhere between mild irritation and disgust—whether it's directed at you or his son, you're not sure, but he probably has better things to do than listen to some girl's breakup story. so you nod, and satoru starts to leave.

just before he steps out the door, you think of a really fucking insane idea—one that would absolutely shatter your ex. and for some reason, you say it out loud.

"you should fuck me."

oh my god.

satoru turns around slowly, hand clenched around his phone. "the fuck?"

you swallow, eyes wide and a stupid grin plastered on your face. "shit, i—" you were ready to apologize for just about every word you've ever said, but satoru holds up his hand before you can start, cutting you off.

he scoffs, blue eyes glimmering with either amusement or annoyance. "you really are a piece of work, aren't ya?" satoru narrows his eyes, surveying you critically. his gaze settles on the way your shaky hands, and you hide them behind your back self consciously.

"you want me to fuck you on my son's bed?" he says dryly, stifling a laugh. when you force yourself to nod, he grins. "not bad, sweetheart. not bad at all."

"i-is that a yes?" you hate yourself for stuttering, but it makes satoru laugh.

"sure, why not?" he says, walking over to where you're still sitting on his son's bed and resting a hand on your shoulder. satoru rubs the side of your neck with his thumb, cerulean eyes fixed on your lips. "might be about time to teach my son a lesson anyways."

satoru's agreement surprises you enough to make your mouth fall open, and soon enough, his dick replaces the empty space between your lips.

"shit, you're takin' me so good, baby," satoru groans, hand tangled in your hair as he pushes his dick deeper into your throat. "yeah, that's it, jus' like tha— fuck," he cuts himself off with a breathy laugh as you nearly choke.

he's big, way bigger than your ex, and you wonder how his dad's big dick gene skipped him. and even better, satoru's skilled too. he knows how to fuck you good, and you can tell that it's from experience, not from watching porn—unlike his lame excuse of a son.

"tell me, sweetheart," satoru drawls, looking down at you with a cheeky smile. "was my son half as good as i am in bed?"

when you shake your head no, satoru clicks his tongue in disapproval. "shit, now y're gonna expect every guy you fuck with to be as good as me. well, sorry 'bout that, because they aren't."

at least you know where his son gets his arrogance from. 

it's getting a little hard to breathe, especially since you have ten inches of dick shoved down your throat. despite all satoru's talk, you can tell that he's getting close to cumming down your throat—his eyes are twitching and his breaths are starting to become more and more shaky as you suck him off. soon enough, the coil in his stomach snaps and he cums, cursing and praising you as he does. satoru's grip on your hair tightens, and it's borderline painful as he tugs you deeper by the hair.

"shit, that was the best head i've had in a while," he groans after his breathing starts to go back to normal. satoru grins at you, shaking his head and pinning you on your back on the bed.

"you've already been fucked by a gojo here, haven't you?" satoru cooes, tracing your jawline with one of his fingers. "tch, i'll fuck you better than my shithead son ever could. show ya the reason we gojos have a reputation for our dicks."

and fuck, he does. after quickly making you cum on his fingers with the excuse of loosening you up, he roughly shoves his dick in your already-throbbing pussy with a grin. he's so fucking big that you've convinced he's gonna rip you in half.

"g-gojo, i can't—"

"sure y'can," he cuts you off, jaw tightening as you tighten around him. "fuckin' hell, you're just tight as a virgin. my son must be shit in bed, yeah?"

"mhm," you hum, tilting back your head and gasping for air as you feel your body heat up. "shit— right there—"

satoru grins, dipping his head and meeting your tear-lidded eyes. he's far from gentle—it's barely been a couple minutes and your back is already in the highest arch of your life, and it's hard to form coherent thoughts as satoru continues bullying his cock into your pussy.

you lose track of time easily—fuck, you forget there's even a world outside of whatever this is. at some point your tongue falls out of your mouth, lolling to the side as your eyes roll back—just a dumb slut for satoru; or at least that's what he calls you.

as you approach what must be the hundredth orgasm of the night, satoru asks you to say his name. it's almost embarrassing how much effort it is to say—he's fucked you dumb enough to the point where you're a babbling mess.

"shit, you can't even talk," satoru says with a grin, flicking your forehead playfully. "cute." he rests his elbow by your head and shoves his hand over your mouth, amusement dancing in his eyes. "you talk too much anyways, princess. take a break."

you whine against his hand and satoru shakes his head, a faux pout on his face. "c'mon, it's not like you can talk anyways," he tsks. his next thrust is particularly rough, and you can't seem to remember who the name of the dickhead who got you in this situation—what was your ex's name again? does it matter?

"yeah i can" you mumble, voice muffled by satoru's hand. when his pout deepens, you can't help but giggle, a sound that soon turns to a squeal when he pushes the side of your face into the mattress.

"what's so funny?" satoru grumbles, dipping his head and pressing his lips against the hand seperating your mouth from his. satoru's glimmering eyes are fixed on yours as a cheeky smile spreads across his face. "fine then."

he pulls out, cursing under his breath as he presses his back to the headboard. satoru ignores the hm? that slips out of your lips and removes his hand from your mouth, resting it on his dick instead and stroking it with a smirk. "what is it, princess?"

"wha— why'd you stop?"

satoru lifts his other wrist, studying the watch on it and turning his hand so you can see too. your vision is still so fucked up that the numbers look like swimming otters, but you can vaguely make out the time.

"it's been fifteen minutes, kid. time to go."

your mouth falls open and you sit up, still breathing heavily. one second you're having the best sex of your life, and the next your ex's dad is calling you kid and telling you it's time to go?

"not fair," you mumble, pulling your legs into your chest and resting your head on your knees. "that was a stupid time limit," you huff, chest heaving. "i couldn't have done anything to him in fifteen minutes anyways."

satoru snorts, stretching his arms and resting his hands behind his head. "i'd say we did something in those fifteen minutes," he says dryly, white hair falling into his eyes. 

"hmph."

satoru raises his eyebrows, biting the inside of his lip as he continues stroking himself. you notice the way his abs flex and tense the closer he gets; something that shouldn't be as attractive as it is.

"can't believe my dumbass son fucked up so badly with a girl like you," he groans after a minute, back resting against the headboard as he continues stroking his dick. "won't be seein' you around here again, huh?"

you blink, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as satoru eyes you intently. "what d'you mean?"

before satoru can answer, the two of you hear footsteps, and before either of you can do anything, standing in the doorway to his own room is your ex, a giggling girl on his arm. the faint scent of alcohol floods through your nose as they stumble in, and it's all you can do to stop yourself from laughing when your ex sees that his bed is already occupied.

"why the hell is my dad in bed with my ex-girlfriend?!"