#i played around with a couple other ideas

[drgnflyteabox]

something to remember you by

pairing: soap x fem reader summary: your boyfriend wants some memorabilia of you to take on his deployments. only, he wants his superior officer to take the photos. w.c: 3.7k tags/warnings: dubcon, cucking, mild degradation, oral (m + f, rough), hair pulling, un-negotiated kink, dom!soap, clothed man naked reader, teasing scent kink (m + f), one (1) pussy slap, crying, squirting, unprotected sex, some anxiety, reassurance mid-fuck, overstimulation, some aftercare, abrupt but open ending, reader has some internal shame around sex/kink, reader doesn't rlly like her bf

At first, it’s nothing. Dirty talk, suggestive texts, passing comments while he’s on his second deployment with a hand around his cock and you pretending to be into it.

"Think about it, babe," he’s panting, but it’s less sexy when you can tell he’s deepening his voice on purpose like Christian Bale Batman. "Don’t you wanna give me something to remember you by? While I’m out here fighting for you?"

Corny. So fucking corny. Your feet are kicked up on your coffee table, fuzzy-socked, face schlopped with a cooling gel mask. Quarter past 8 o’clock, and he’s trying to sell you on letting one of his army buddies fuck you and take pictures of you. The absurdity makes you almost laugh.

"…babe?" Oh, shit.

"Yeah honey, I’m here." You’d kind of feel bad, if it weren’t for the ick factor. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, he was fine, it was just that since he’d joined the army he’d inched closer and closer to picking up a mic and dictating which body counts were okay to women over podcasts. That, and he’s gotten hornier. Kinkier.

Which is fine, really. Only you don't consider yourself adventurous. Sex is like a chore, something to put you to sleep, to relax the muscles. Relationships are quid pro quo - I suck your dick, you make my parents think I’m succeeding in life, deal?

Not to mention, you've never even considered stepping outside of the idea that sex is between committed couples only, sequestered away and hidden in the closet like old clothes.

"So, are you picturing it?" Schlap schlap schlap. He must’ve added lotion. "You can say no obviously, ughnnn, but I know this guy really well. I'd, ahhh fuck, sit in the other room."

"Thanks for being so considerate," you sound dry, but you’re honestly intrigued. Life has been monotonous since graduation, the transition from study to office… rough.

You aren’t adventurous. But you’re so fucking bored.

"Can I see him first?" On the TV in front of you, muted, Matthew Macfayden confesses his love tearfully in the rain. You want to be bewitched, body and soul. To feel something.

"So you’ll do it? Oh, fuck-" Not what I said, you think. His voice goes high, reedy, trembling with his orgasm. "See how fucking hot this makes me? I’ll send a pic, give me a sec."

It’s a group photo. He’s dressed in his uniform, head shaved, standing next to a group of a dozen or so men. Outlined, at the far corner with a group of guys big enough to dwarf a good third of the rest, is a man with building biceps and a smarmy grin and a confident, wide-legged pose. Hips jutted out. Fuck, he’s hot. You can see his bulge through his pants, through the picture, under a heavy tac vest.

"Get in, get in!" the apartment is clean for once. At least, clean without you getting sick of his clutter and playing maid. Did he do it himself to impress his friend? That makes you snort, but he doesn’t catch it, too preoccupied with his phone.

"Um, woah-" you start, taken aback. It looks like a porn set. There’s a plastic sheet on the ground in front of the couch. "I thought this was supposed to be casual?"

"It is, babe," he’s brushing you off, same as he did the few days leading up to this. You’d gone through some minor confidence and judgment crises, anxiety building like a balloon about to pop. All of which he’d brushed off.

It’s all fun and games, babe. Plus he’s done this before, he’s like a pro, showed me some videos - that was something you hadn't agreed to, just some pictures for him to take on deployments.

Still, trepidation makes you sweat, makes your thighs stick to the brown leather couch when you sit and try to sip water. Your socks crinkle the sheet.

You don’t turn when he arrives, still too nervous, knees stuck together and hands slipping on the glass from condensation when they start talking behind you. There’s too many what ifs - all reasons you’d used to avoid hookups in college, all reasons you wanted to break through your shell now.

Plus, you’re sick of hearing "did you finish?"

"This must be her," says an accented voice, gruff and maybe amused, "ye feelin' shy?"

No. You’re just nervous. Exposed. One of the only conditions you'd pushed was no cuck chair, but now you weren't sure how to feel to be left alone with him soon. This man is so big, so imposing.

"Hi," you say smartly. He looks just like his photo, only bigger. Bulging muscles and the same wide stance when he comes to stand in front of you. It’s only because you can’t stand sitting face-to-face with his crotch that you stand and hold your hand out to shake.

"And polite!" Loud. He introduces himself as Johnny, which makes your boyfriend's eyebrows raise. "So cute." he takes the liberty of bypassing your hand and grabbing your waist.

Oh fuck, he runs hot. His hands burn, even through your shirt. You feel self-conscious, plain, looking up at his probing blue eyes. They’re so intense, captivating, distracting you from the feeling of him getting closer and closer, till your tits are pressed to his.

"Hey-"

The moment breaks. Your boyfriend is looking at you both, unreadable expression on his face. Is he regretting this? Feeling emasculated, maybe? Hard to feel much sympathy when you’re the one about to get fucked.

And it was his idea.

"I’m gonna go to the bedroom," his eyes squint, flitting between the both of you before he scurries away, pants tented.

"Now that that's outta the way," Johnny grunts. "C'mere." And sits down with a grunt, pulling you to him.

You try to pivot, to sit next to him, but he's strong and coordinated so you wind up in his lap, back touching the arm of the couch and your legs slung over his, bum on one thigh.

"That's more like it, no?" there's that wolfish grin again, so close. One hand rests on your knee, possessively, while the other wraps around your shoulders and plays with your shirt. "Why don't we introduce ourselves?"

The hand on your knee moves to your face, gripping your cheeks in a grip hard enough to push your lips out into an embarrassing pout. You struggle a little, pulling at his wrist, but he doesn't budge.

He pulls his phone out, aiming the camera at your face, recording a video through a text-app. You can that it's a groupchat, assured by your boyfriend before that it was totally private, babe. This is jut between us.

"Now say hello," he puts his stubbly cheek next to yours, rubbing like a cat. "And introduce yourself."

"H'llo," you struggle through it, muffled by his grip. Your name is almost unintelligible, and your jaw starts to ache a little.

"Say, can I please suck your cock, sir?"

Your stomach tightens, right down to your pussy, which gushes a little into your panties.

"Cn'I please suck your cock, sir?" he's so fucking forward, just jumping in headfirst. The loss of control, your being told what to do, makes your clit jump. Sex has never been like this - you've never been so acquiescing.

"Of course you can, bonnie!" you're almost tossed to the floor, no gentleness as he pulls you toward him by the hair so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He scoots to the edge of the couch, leaning back against it, and uses that strong arm to rub your face on his bulge. "Get me hard."

He puts his phone on the arm of the couch.

You flounder, hands finding his knees and trying to pull back. He doesn't let you.

"Use your mouth, kiss me," his hand finds a firmer hold on your hair as you start mouthing against him, tasting denim, smelling his musk, letting it get to your head and make you dizzy. "That's right, kitten."

His cock starts to chub under his clothes, and you almost wish you could feel it in your mouth. Oral isn't your favourite, but the way your pussy clenches around nothing and drips into your panties is making you think maybe you were wrong about yourself.

"Up, up," your face is rubbed a little raw by the time you sit up, looking at him. Waiting for instruction. "Everything off, except your panties."

You obey, stripping your shirt and bra and then your shorts. Your nipples tighten in the cool air of the apartment, goosebumps dancing along your arms and your belly. Self-consciousness almost has you reaching to cover yourself, until Johnny grabs you by the shoulders and twists you just enough that you're back to facing his phone.

"Look at these," he grunts in your ear, fingers finding your nipples. Pulling them, pinching them. It's not for you, it's for the camera. You feel like an object, an accessory, secondary to getting the shot of the rough pads of his fingers teasing you into whimpers.

You've never been more turned on.

"Nice, eh?" he pulls them up and out, which hurts, but draws a line of pure electricity from your nipples to your clit. "Whatd'ye think, L.T?" the name doesn't register. Army stuff, you assume.

You're turned back around sharply again to face his actual cock. He's pulled it from his fly, thick and leaking, while you were getting undressed. It's unfair, really, nice and long and curved.

"Ask me again," a statement. A command, phone discarded.

"Please can I suck your cock, sir?" the words make your cheeks burn, your body quiver, your clit jump.

"Ye can," laughter this time, worsening your embarrassment. His hand finds your hair again, pulling you down when you're too slow to touch your lips to the head of his dick. "I'm gonnae fuck your face, alright?"

Without waiting, he lifts his hips up and thrust into your mouth. It's not as deep as it can go, but you almost gag, unprepared. The next thrust is deeper, quicker. He's letting you build up to it, letting your hands rest on his knees for balance.

Your nose touches his pubic hair, inhaling the scent of him. Any attempt at hollowing your cheeks, sucking, licking, is futile. He's so quick that the best you can do is hang on for the ride, keeping your teeth in check.

Drool builds and spills past your lips, making wet sounds compete with his frankly pornographic moaning. He's a man possessed, using you while you squeeze your eyes against overwhelmed tears.

Finally he yanks you off of him by the hair, holding you up while you splutter from the unexpected change. Your hands go to your face, trying to wipe.

"None o'that, now," he bats them away, giving you a shake when you keep trying. "Leave it." like you're a bad dog.

Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to his cock, thin and gooey, that fall to your bare chest when he sits up.

You're turned, stood up and then guided to the couch to sit. Johnny slaps your thighs to get you to open them, lifting your feet for you so that your heels rest on the edge of the couch cushions.

"Awe, look how wet she is," he holds your legs, exposing your wet panties to him and to his phone, where he takes a few pictures. Again, you wonder about the appeal of this for your boyfriend. It's hot for you. Degrading, but hot. Or maybe more hot because of the degradation.

"Oh god," you say out of shock. You've never been so fucking wet in your life, and god forbid he sees how swollen with arousal you are underneath.

"Naw, just me," Johnny says, rubbing his knuckles over your pussy through the fabric. "She all wet and frustrated?"

You don't answer, hands keeping you sat up, chest heaving. You're still a little dizzy.

Johnny licks over your panties, mouthing over them not unlike what you did for him only a few minutes before. It's nothing, really, but you're so worked up that it startles a long, drawn-out moan from you.

He continues like this, never actually making contact with where you need it, with your skin. Every one in a while he turns his head to the side and grins, taking a picture or a videoclip while you tip your head back and resist begging him to just get on with it.

His nose presses on your mound, where he drags it down to your hole and sniffs.

That's what breaks your resolve.

"Please," you whine. Your voice is rough from taking his cock in your throat.

"Please what?" he opens his mouth and puts his teeth on you, not biting, just letting you feel them. Gnawing gently.

"Please do it," you look down at him, and even though he's on his knees you know you aren't the one in control. "Please lick my cunt."

A laugh, mean and condescending. Your eyes close in shame, pussy burning for attention.

"This cunt right here?" he pulls the gusset aside, whistling. "This desperate little cunt?"

"Yes, please," you curl your toes into the couch.

Something shifts in his eyes, some unrecognizable flash. It feels like danger, like you're in over your head. Johnny takes two fingers and rubs them over your clit, slowly at first, and then quickly when he feels how slippery you are.

Somewhere, a volcano erupts and it isn't comparable to the heat or the feeling of your clit finally getting attention. It zings through you, making you squeeze your muscles, taught and trembling.

The pads of his fingers are a rough sensation on your swollen skin, the worlds best vibrator, ribbed for your pleasure. All he does is rub, up and down over your clit, quickly and until your face starts to scrunch together in orgasm, trembling hard.

Then he pulls back and slaps you so hard on your pussy you scream.

You almost come from it, shocked, legs kicking out, skin burning and clit pulsing with desperation, back bowing. You keep making sound after, a long and drawn out aaaaaahhhhh while he grins like the cat that got the cream. Takes another picture, the click of the camera loud in the face of your disappointment.

The intensity of it almost brings you to tears, looking at him with betrayal and vulnerability in your face. You feel weak all of a sudden, cored, devoured, pulled apart as soft as slow cooked meat.

Your panties fall back over your skin, a minor comfort against the sting.

"Poor girl," Johnny says with false sympathy. "Let me make it up to ye."

Then you're up again, pulled and pressed against Johnny's chest until he pulls your underwear down and rearranges you to sit on his lap over his spread legs, yours dangling on either side.

"Gonna bounce ye on my cock, alright?" you nod. "Sit on it."

You lift your hips, using his knees for balance, and he guides the head of his cock to your hole. Stops you from sitting back right away with a hand on your hip, squeezing the soft flesh there, and holding you there.

"They're kissing," he laughs. You feel it, your cunt mouthing at him like a conscious being, separate from you. "Ye think they want tae meet each other?"

"Can I?" you don't fight to keep the whine out of your voice. You want to come, you want this aching and this emptiness to end.

"Can ye what?"

"Sit on your cock, please."

"Well, since ye asked so nicely," and then he notches himself properly again, and forces you down with two hands on your waist. You shout, arching, head thrown back. "Bounce on it now, kitten. Show me how badly ye want to come."

And oh god, you do. You rock forward, shaking at the feeling of him, no technique to guide you just pure intuition, brain and cunt and body as one. Distantly, the sound of the camera registers, but it only makes you move faster.

He spreads your cheeks, exposing where you're connected, putting the camera close to the wet clench of your cunt around his cock and - oh, he's filming it. There's no click, just the wet sounds of you riding him.

"Thas'right," he murmurs lowly, maybe for show. "You wanna come?"

"Yes!" you lean back, then, sweat slicked back sticking to his shirt, forgetting where you are and why you're here. Everything narrows down to your pussy, but you feel compelled to keep your hands off your clit even though you know it would make you come quickly.

You want to listen to him, to wait for permission. The thought is searing heat through your core.

Fingers find your face, slipping into your mouth. Your lips wrap around them, sucking like you would've his cock.

His other hand lifts his phone in front of you both, snapping shots of your unfocused eyes, your tits pushed into the air, his smarmy expression. He hooks his fingers then into your cheek, pulling back like a fishhook.

"Good girl," his lips against your ear, stubble scratching the hot skin of your neck. "I'm gonna fuck you for real now, alright?"

You nod, desperately. He pushes you up and off of him, face down in the cushion. He's still clothed, for gods sake, jeans rubbing against the backs of your thighs when he drags your ass back toward him.

The mushroom head of his cock finds your cunt again, pushing in, driving you nuts. You're moaning helplessly, letting him take your boneless arms to hold them behind you.

He fucks you like a man possessed, in a short strokes, barely leaving the hot clutch of your pussy. The sounds, if they were bad before, are worse now, wet and humiliating.

Every thrust feels like he's slowly inflating a balloon inside you, like something pulling taut, like pressure about to burst.

"Fuck, wait!" you shout and turn your head. The pressure is insane, mixed up with a building orgasm, twined together. He hasn't even touched your clit, and yet you're on the precipice.

Johnny leans down, lips on your ear. He slows, but doesn't stop.

"What is it, bonnie?"

"I have to pee," you'd have mumbled it before, but the feeling is so strong you can't help but whimper and cry. "Please let me up."

"Ye aren't gonna pee," he laughs. "Trust me, just trust me." Then keeps pistoning into you.

You feel like jello, like mush, the only solid part of you is about to burst and somehow it makes you feel real anxiety, dampening your enjoyment.

"Johnny-" you whimper, emotion clogging your voice. You feel vulnerable, held down and bared.

In need of reassurance.

"You're alright," he leans back down and nuzzles your wet cheek. "Ye can let go, kitten, I've got ye."

You gasp, pulsing hard around him, the feeling back again, before you gush around his cock, a spray so intense you cry as it forces him out of you.

"Good. Fucking. Girl!" he slaps your ass once, twice, on both cheeks. Rubs your flank like a horse and then plunges back into you when you finish dripping down your legs.

This is purely selfish, him fucking you hard now, jackrabbiting his hips into yours. You hear the phone again, just barely, as your ears ring.

You're raw from coming without any touch to your clit, a weird limbo between being on-edge and oversensitive.

"Gonna give me another," he's growling now, getting impossibly faster. You actually really cry when he reaches around to twist your clit, thrashing under him, not sure if you want to leap off the couch or crawl right back into him. "Come for me!" he shouts, pulling up the hood of your clit to really get at you, rubbing rough circles around your beleaguered little nub.

The second orgasm melts your brain out of your ears, so long and drawn out that you're still shivering with the aftershocks as he pulls out of you and paints your back with his release.

You pant, arm one arm dangling over the edge of the couch while you the other covers your eyes.

Johnny rubs a hand on your thigh, light and gentle, patting your bum as he stands. You move your arm just enough to squint at him.

His jeans are soaked.

You laugh, uninhibited, delirious. He laughs with you.

"All you, darlin'!" he takes another shot of you, pulls your legs apart and takes a picture of your wet, sore hole.

"Is she good?" ah, your boyfriend. He has his own wet spot on the front of his pants.

"She's good," Johnny confirms. "Ye need to take care of her now, right?"

Something in his voice changes. A different kind of authority to the one he used on you, one reserved for soldiers. For men beneath him. At that thought, your pussy makes a valiant effort to clench.

"Yeah, yeah," you hear. Your boyfriend has his phone out, his cheeks flushed with excitement. "These are great man, thanks."

You start to sit up, still shaking, but not wanting to have him see you that way.

"Man, you weren't kidding!" he goes on. Johnny frowns and steps forward to clap him hard on the back and grab his nape.

"Run a bath, do it now. Ye got granola bars?"

"Uh, yeah. Hold on."

You're touched by his concern, and wind up soaking in warm bubbles after he leaves. You wonder about the photos, about what you look like. If your boyfriend is satisfied, if Johnny is.

If you were good.

Feels like you were, but somethings changed. Johnny found a soft spot knife-deep inside you and dug himself in, made you fly and made sure you were brought back to earth after, tenderized and then wrapped in comfort.

Beneath the water, you touch your pussy. Not to masturbate, just to feel the soft sore flesh, to remember the feeling of fullness.

Maybe, after his deployment, your boyfriend will want more pictures.

Fresh material.

Beneath the water, your finger curls into yourself and you sigh, satisfied.

[girlgenius1111]

close to you

alexia putellas x leila ouahabi x jenni hermoso x reader a third installment of the orgy fic: rush by @vixwritesagain [all chapters + all OOYG chapters linked on her masterlist] the group takes a trip to ibiza. alexia and r are too stubborn for their own goods mostly fluff, small angst, no smut in this part but still; 18+ note: there isn't much left to say about vix that i haven't already said but i love her brain and i LOVED writing this with her. different to any of the previous fics in this little universe, which was so much fun. give her all the love <3

—

You were carrying both your water bottle and Leila’s. There was nothing you could do when you felt the faintest brush of someone’s fingers on your neck, which you sure was the intention. 

“Jenni,” you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest as your bikini top fell limply down your front, now only held up by the string across your back.

The brunette laughed loudly in response, taking advantage of the fact that your hands were full and you couldn’t chase her around the pool deck like you’d done an hour ago, when she’d done the same thing. Instead you glared at her through your sunglasses, stomping over to the pair of loungers you and Leila were using. Setting the water bottles down, you quickly pulled the swimsuit back up, hands fiddling with the strings. 

Behind you, Leila cleared her throat, and you turned to see her looking purposefully between you and Alexia, who was sprawled across her own chair, just a few feet away. Her eyes were obscured by her sunglasses, but you got the strange feeling that she was watching you. Knowing what Leila was getting at, you shook your head, sitting on the edge of her chair. 

“Tie it for me, please?” You requested. 

Always one to take your comfort seriously, Leila did as you asked, pressing a kiss to the side of your head once she was done. She lingered there for a moment, her arms wrapping around your midsection and pulling you back into her. 

“You have to start somewhere, bebé.” She whispered. “Leave it off.” 

You scowled feeling your face heat up. Stealing another glance over at the blonde, who was now taking a sip from her own drink, the condensation sliding off the bottom of the cup and down the tan skin of her very bare chest. 

If Alexia felt your gaze on her, she didn’t say anything. You weren’t sure why you expected anything else; it was already the 2nd day of your trip and though you were sharing a villa with Alexia, eating meals with her and swimming in the same pool, she had remained indifferent towards you. No more than polite words and greetings, just like she’d given you in the weeks since your last… thing. 

Alexia could talk about football for hours at work, but the second you got involved, things quietened down. Sometimes you’d try and play around with her to tease out the softer side you’d caught glimpses off in the past. Instead of returning your playfulness, Alexia would stare until you were uncomfortable enough to walk away. 

Alexia was borderline cold with you, yet she was the polar opposite with both her girlfriend, and yours. 

Leila knew better than anyone that it was driving you insane. 

When Leila had brought up the idea of a joint trip with the other couple, you’d jumped at the chance. There hadn’t been much time in recent weeks to get as… acquainted… with them as you’d been in the past, as you hoped to get again. Time away from work felt like the perfect place to pull her out of her shell. And though the sexual tension around the villa could have been cut with a knife, Alexia continued to treat this like some kind of professional business trip. And so you did too. 

“No.” You whispered back to Leila. “Leave it alone unless you want to help me.” 

Leila just sighed, pulling you back to rest against her even though it was much too hot. Her silence told you the conversation wasn’t over, but you were again distracted by the sight of Alexia getting up off her chair and walking tantalizingly slowly over to the steps of the pool. 

If you weren’t going to be having sex with her on this trip, why couldn’t you have gone somewhere cold, where she would have been bundled up. That way, the miles of tan skin and legs and muscles would have stayed safely under wraps, and you wouldn’t feel like tearing your hair out in a horny nervous breakdown every time you walked out onto the pool deck. 

—

It wasn’t until later that Alexia breached the subject of you with Jenni. She was tired of waiting, annoyed that everyone seemed to be waiting on her to make the first move; so much so she wasn’t sure anyone else actually wanted it. 

“I want them.” Alexia hummed before taking another bite of her toast. 

“Again?” Jenni replied as she closed the fridge. “Hung up on them, aren’t you?”

The captain twisted around, eyeing her girlfriend with suspicion. “You don’t want..?” 

“Of course I want to. More than once this time.” Jenni shifted closer, reaching out to push herself up against Alexia’s back. Hooking her chin over her shoulder, she took a moment to appreciate the scantily clad couple in the distance. 

Alexia carefully watched the approaching figures, too wrapped up in one another to really notice. “She doesn’t. She won’t even look at me.” 

“You won’t look at her. Especially not when she’s paying attention.” 

“She doesn’t want me to.” 

Jenni chuckled softly, turning to press her lips against Alexia’s neck. “That’s not true. Maybe if you replied with more than one word answers, you’d see how much she wants you.” 

Alexia huffed dramatically, taking another chomp of her snack instead of humoring her girlfriend with a reply. 

Well used to Alexia’s unspoken insecurities, Jenni kissed her once more before unwrapping herself to fix her own lunch. 

–

Maybe it was because she hadn’t touched you yet, or seemed even mildly interested in doing so, that you were so desperate for her. Leila, and Jenni to an extent, were obtainable. A few words, a few kisses, you knew they’d be on board. Alexia, however, remained like a statue. She’d barely spoken to you in the 48 hours you’d been on holiday, and it was as confusing as it was annoying. 

Weren’t you both passed this, by now? Apparently not. You had brushed behind her in the kitchen earlier in the day, and she’d frozen completely, before bolting out of the room and back outside, her snack forgotten on the counter. 

“Does she not want me anymore?” You mused, laying with your back pressed to Leila’s bare chest. It was late, dark in the room except for the glow of the moon bouncing off the nearby water and through the window. Though you couldn’t see your girlfriend’s face, you had the distinct feeling that she was rolling her eyes at you, but with nothing to back it up, you let it go. 

“Bebé, just ask her.” Leila told you, arms tightening where they were looped around your abdomen. 

“Ask her.” You scoffed. “She won’t look me in the eye, she’s barely said two words to me since we’ve gotten here. I can’t just ask if she wants to have sex.” 

“It wouldn’t be completely out of nowhere, you’ve slept with her twice.” The brunette reminded you, her eyes flicking over to her phone, where the screen lit up just barely with a text.

Jenni: This is getting ridiculous. I think we should lock them in the bathroom together or something.

Holding back a snort, Leila refocused back on you, rambling away about how annoying Alexia was when she was being so standoffish. Leila knew you meant hot, but were too proud to say so. She hummed along, reaching for her phone once she was sure you were suitably distracted. 

-

Leila: With a vibrator or something. And no clothes. And me! 

Jenni rolled her eyes, casually pushing her phone back under her pillow with one hand, her other continuing its motion through Alexia’s hair. 

“I had her screaming and begging for me and now she’s pretending like it never happened.” Alexia ranted, sighing loudly when she got no response from her girlfriend. Tilting her head up, she frowned when she was met with a small grin on Jenni’s face. “What? What are you smiling about?”

Jenni just shook her head. “You know what I’m going to tell you, Ale.” 

“I don’t want to ask her, Jennifer. I want her to want me.” The midfielder grumbled. 

“Well, maybe she wants you to go to her.” 

“I don’t beg.” Alexia sighed, her face heating up when her girlfriend fixed her with a knowing look. “Okay, I don’t beg for her, she begs for me. And she will. I don’t care how long it takes.” 

Jenni let her eyes trail down to where the t-shirt Alexia had definitely stolen from her suitcase had ridden up, tan skin covering thick muscle.  “But it could be so much faster if you just started it.”

“No. If she wants it, she’ll come.”

Jenni tried to ignore the hint of insecurity in Alexia’s voice, opting instead to stroke back her baby hairs. “She already comes, thinking about you, remember?” 

Reveling in the tiniest upturn of her girlfriend’s mouth, Jenni bent down for a kiss. “And if you ask me, she’s crazy for not jumping on you today. I’ll be dreaming of that little bikini tonight.” “I can put it back on for you?” Alexia offered, sitting up a little to stay close. She giggled at Jenni’s theatrical groan. 

“But then you’d have to take off my clothes.”

“Sí. Or you could do it for me?” The way Alexia boldly grabbed Jenni’s hand, dragging it lower and lower on her body until the striker’s long fingers could toy with the waistband of her shorts, made up her mind. If Alexia wouldn’t take the first step, and you wouldn’t either, then there was nothing left to do but meddle. 

With a quick series of kisses, Jenni grabbed her phone and slipped away to the bathroom, promising to finish what Alexia had started when she came back. Once the door was securely shut behind her, she replied to the defender. 

Jenni: This is going nowhere. Plan B tomorrow. 

Leila’s reply came through quickly. 

Leila: Can we get more of that chocolate ice cream while we’re out?

Jenni sighed, for what felt like the 5th time that evening. No wonder her plan had been failing so miserably, what with her accomplice being so easily distracted. Leila could have all the ice cream in the world if that’s what it took for her to remain subtle and let the two of you start yourselves. 

—

“Amor! Jenni and I are going to the store!” Leila shouted, just barely poking her head out the door. You looked up from your book, eyes wide. Your girlfriend was dressed, not in the swim suit she’d had on earlier.

“You and Jenni and… Alexia?” You asked, sitting up fully and attempting to fix Leila with your most threatening stare. 

Leila bit at her lip, something she only did when she was trying to hide her smirk. “No, just me and Jenni. Bye, I love you!” She shut the door behind her before you could say anything back. You had the very distinct feeling that you were in the middle of some kind of plot, one that had Jenni written all over it. 

As Leila disappeared into the house, you made out the outline of Alexia, just barely visible through the glare of the sun off the glass. Even the mere sight of her silhouette was erasing every thought from your head, and you cursed the woman for looking so good all the time. It would have been easier, honestly, if you knew for sure that you couldn’t have her. This awkward, stunted dynamic between the two of you was driving you insane, and now you were going to be all alone with her. 

Inside the house, Jenni was wishing she’d followed Leila’s lead and told her girlfriend she was leaving from a safe distance away. Instead, Alexia stood right in front of her, jaw dropped in horror.  

“What do you mean you’re going to the store with Leila?” Alexia frowned. 

Jenni snorted, leaning in to kiss her girlfriend’s cheek even as she began to tease. “Well, Leila and I are going to get in the car, and then drive to this place that sells food. And then-”

“Jenni, take me.” Alexia interrupted, an unusual amount of panic in her voice. “She’s in a bikini. I’m going with you.” 

The striker chuckled, detaching her girlfriend’s hands from where they were clutching onto her shirt. “No, you need rest after last night. You should go out by the pool, take a nap. Or tire yourself out more.” 

Alexia glared back at her girlfriend, fighting to keep her focus on the brunette and not let it drift over to where you were spread out on a lounge chair. Just over Jenni’s shoulder, you were staring at the door, skin glistening with sweat, long legs extended in front of you… 

Alexia shook her head but Jenni was already moving towards the front door. “Jennifer Hermoso, do not leave me here.” The midfielder hissed, fighting the urge to jump onto her girlfriend’s back and tackle her to the floor. 

“But you won’t be alone, amor!” Jenni grinned, turning around to face her girlfriend, yet continuing to back towards the front door. “And put that red bikini on. It’ll drive her crazy.” 

“I am going to kill you.” Alexia vowed through gritted teeth. 

“Maybe she can put you in a good mood first. Ciao!” Jenni sang, slipping out the front door and shutting it behind her. 

__

For a while, the villa was far quieter than you were used to. As hot as it was outside, you were set on remaining right there, baking in the sun rather than facing whatever frosty reception was indoors. After a while, the choice was made for you. 

The sliding doors opened, and as much as you were trying not to look, it was impossible to ignore firetruck red. 

Alexia closed the door silently, shuffling her way into the sun before pulling her sunglasses down and stretching out face down over the lounger. Not once did she glance in your direction. 

There was silence while you took in the perfect curve of her ass, hardly covered. 

“I like your swimsuit.” You called gently. 

Alexia shifted a little before grumbling. With her face away from you, it was a struggle to understand. “Gracias. Jenni likes it.” 

Of course. Jenni, her girlfriend. The person she actually wants to talk to. 

Silence fell once more. 

“She has good taste.” You hummed, sitting up quickly to gather your things. It was too hot, your water bottle was empty, you needed to freshen up before Leila got home. Whatever rationalization you thought through, none felt completely true. 

You were both quiet as you retreated back through the doors, into the safety of the kitchen. 

For a while, you sat at the island, sipping cool water and trying to think of anything beyond Alexia. No matter which path you took, from Leila to work, family to future plans, somehow your brian would always find its way back to her. 

You flinched when the sliding door opened, then came the soft pads of her footsteps until swaths of tanned skin stepped into your eye line. 

“You can..?” Alexia trailed off, holding up a bottle of sunscreen. 

Finally you looked at her, schooling yourself to ignore the way the peak of her nipples could be seen through the thinly stretched triangles of her top. It took the raise of her eyebrows for your brain to catch up. “Me? I can. Yeah, of course.”  

In a few short days, you’d seen Jenni take full advantage of Alexia’s love of sun safety. You’d tried not to stare at the striker’s wet hands dragging over every inch of her girlfriend’s body, kneading tight muscles until Alexia would moan and melt into her.  

Slowly, you slid off the chair and closer to her. Slipping the bottle to your hand, Alexia turned and pulled her ponytail out of the way. 

It wasn’t often you got to freely admire your Captain’s back. Bare skin dotted with tattoos and tiny freckles all the way down to where her bikini (hardly) covered her ass. After squirting a little too much sunscreen onto your hands, you pressed them against her. Her skin was already hot. 

You could feel the thick muscle of her back under your fingertips as you committed to the task, meticulously ensuring that every centimeter was coated well. The top half was straightforward, bar having to dodge the ties of her top. As you moved downwards, your brain started to go into overdrive. The tiniest sigh from her as your thumbs stroked over her lower back made you shiver. 

Lower still, until one hand had to curve around her hip to steady her when you dipped your fingers just underneath where her bikini covered. 

Alexia was still and silent. 

Perhaps it was selfish how you lingered, stroking over and over in the hopes that maybe something would make her crack. The tiniest sign that she wanted more was all you needed, but even as your hands stroked back to safer spots, nothing. 

“Was there anywhere else?” You murmured. 

“No!” Alexia said immediately, twisting to pick up the sunscreen bottle and step away. “Gracias.”

“Anytime.” You replied, but she was already taking fast steps towards the door. 

-

Jenni and Leila reentered the house, both frowning at the quiet they found. Jenni was disappointed at the thought that no progress had been made. Leila was less discouraged. 

“Maybe they are outside!” She said hopefully, depositing the several bags of groceries she was carrying on the counter, before spotting Alexia, alone, out on the pool deck. 

“Your girlfriend is stubborn.” Jenni sighed, opening the freezer to unload the three entire pints of chocolate ice cream she’d been conned into buying. Her girlfriend looked tense, even as she lounged on a chair. 

Leila turned from where she was headed to search for you, looking affronted, but before she could say a word in response, the bedroom door creaked open and you darted out, grabbing onto Leila’s wrist and yanking her back into the room with you. 

“Bebé! There you are!” Leila began, flashing you with a sunny smile and attempting to lean in to kiss your cheek. She paused, though, finding your cheeks flushed red, a sheen of sweat visible on your forehead. “Have you had too much sun?” 

Even your girlfriend’s sweet concern couldn’t distract you from the problem at hand. “No! I have had too much Alexia. She’s wearing this bikini - and the sunscreen on her back, and her skin is so warm, and-”

“You and Alexia?” Leila asked excitedly, dragging you over to the bed. She caught the way the sheets were slightly crumpled, and how you were wearing a different pair of swimsuit bottoms than before, taking it all to mean something that it absolutely didn’t. “Tell me about it!”

“She asked me to put sunscreen on her back.” 

Leila blinked, wondering if that was some kind of English euphemism she’d never learned. 

“Sunscreen on her back… like the… you… what kind of sex is that?” She asked, an adorably confused look adorning her features. 

You glared at your girlfriend, ripping your hand away from hers and beginning to pace around the room. “That is no kind of sex Leila! I complimented her bikini, and she barely replied, so I went inside and she followed me, just to ask me put sunscreen on her back!” 

“Did you?”

“Oh yes. I put sunscreen all over her back. Everywhere. I lingered and I touched her and nothing!” 

“Nothing?” 

“No. And now I’m all…” you trailed off, waving your hands around in the air wildly. “And it’s all your fault for leaving me here with her.” At this, Leila had the decency to look mildly guilty, reaching out her hand to lace her fingers with yours. She drew you in, closer and closer, until she could wrap her arms around your midsection, and pull you into her lap. 

“I would have enjoyed you putting lotion on my back. It would have been very hot, bebé. Irresistible.” Leila’s words were soft, but held an undertone that had the feelings you’d been trying to shove aside flooding back into you. 

You shifted so you could look at her face. “Yeah?” 

“Sí.” Leila nodded earnestly, leaning up to gently peck your cheek. She had barely pulled away before you were moving around to straddle her lap, pressing your lips urgently to your girlfriend’s. If Leila was surprised at the turn of events, she didn’t show it, her hands settling on your hips as she allowed you to press her back down onto the mattress. 

The act of dominance wasn’t unusual for you to put on at the beginning, and Leila knew very well that it would only be a few minutes before all you wanted was to be underneath her. Still, she laced her fingers through your hair, giving a soft tug. The low whine you let out gave her an idea. 

Technically, it had been Jenni’s Plan C, but Leila decided to take initiative. 

---

the first part of... five? 17k words and counting 😅

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Radio Dream - Alastor x Reader (platonic or romantic)

"Do you think I can go into that Radio Tower?" you said

"Not unless you want to die again." Husk responded with a grunt.

"Why would you wanna go into dat thing anyway?" Angel said, leaning his cheek on one hand while the other held his drink.

You were sitting at the bar with Angel and Husk, just chatting about random insignificant drunk topics. Then your curiosity of the radio tower mounted on the hotel caught up to you. Leading to the conversation read not too long ago.

Alastor stood around the corner, just out of sight of the bar patrons. His ear flicked and his grin strained when you asked your foolish question, but Angel Dust's question had him pause before he could flay you.

Why did you? Sabotage? Vandalism? Just to be annoying-?

"I was just remembering how much I wanted to be radio show host when I was a little kid." You said in a sigh.

...Ooh?

"Oh? Really? Aren't ya... y'know, not ancient?" Angel said. He took a sip so you could respond. Husk was paying attention to you now as well, giving you a side-eye as he cleaned whatever glassware needed to be cleaned.

You sighed again, long and drawn out. There was a bit of dreaminess to your tone, a bit of longing. "Yeah, that's why I never really pursued it. My folks were like 'that's nice and all but that's going out of style and you can't make a living off of it, be more realistic.'" You snorted a bit in agitation at that, taking another slow sip of your drink. After a moment you continued.

"I used to have such a good time playing radio host. I'd sit in the living room or dining room, wherever people were, and make like a box fort or something with my cd player with me. I'd talk into a stick or spoon or whisk or something and talk about random topics or play music. Sometimes I'd 'take phone calls', which were mostly just me pretending to give myself a phone call." You chuckled "I would start a lot of 'drama' like that. Sometimes my family members would give suggestions and I'd play it up and play whatever song they asked. Assuming it was on one of the three CDs I was allowed to use."

"That's cute." Angel hummed "Other than the CDs and stuff, your show doesn't sound that much different from Alastor's."

Husk snorted "Nah, they're show sounds MUCH less annoying."

You barked out a laugh- clearly intoxicated "How dare you! I'm sure I could be a LOT more annoying!" You devolved into a hysterical giggle fit, your face hitting the bar counter in front of you.

"All right, I think you've had enough." Husk grunted, taking what was left of your drink from you.

"fair." You said into the counter.

The conversation carried on from there, and Alastor slinked away to his tower. He stood there a moment, his arms crossed behind his back as his eyes did a brief scan over the room.

When he was young, he did something similar. Granted it was a record player, not a see-dee or whatever you were rambling about. His mother would play along and encourage him, pretending to send letters in or be a guest on his show.

Hearing your story gave him a bit of a warm feeling in his chest. It was good knowing someone out there still appreciated the medium, even if it was likely unrealistic.

Well... Alastor supposed there was really no harm in it, assuming he was there to supervise...

A couple days later and Alastor trotted up to you, offering a tour of the radio tower.

For a brief moment, your eyes practically lit up - shining in delight. The expression did something to his chest, as it suddenly felt far too tight. But not in an...unpleasant way.

However, the next moment you looked downright terrified.

Not as pleasant. Not even funny. He had no idea why.

"Are you going to kill me or whatever?" You said, slowly taking a step back.

Alastor laughed "Not at all, my dear! I simply overheard your drunken conversation the other night and decided to indulge your childhood fantasy."

You snorted "Yeah I'm not selling you my soul for that."

Alastor waved you off, scoffing "Oh heavens, I wasn't asking for your soul." He gave you a bright grin- one that seemed less like a grin and more like a soft smile. "I simply ask you don't, how do people say now a days... 'wreck my shit'."

You giggled a bit into your palm. Apparently Alastor had said something funny.

"...Really? You'll just...let me look?"

"Certainly!" He put an arm across your shoulders, guiding you down the halls in the direction of his station. "Why it's been- unfortunately- quite some time since I heard such a passionate speech for the radio!"

Your face flushed a bright red "Well, hold on, it wasn't a 'speech'-"

"Nope! More like a couple sentences. But you know how it is," He used his free hand to do a jazzy motion "In show-business!"

You snorted "Mmm.... I guess so. Though, really, i've never been a very 'show business' kind of person."

"Nonsense! Once you have it, my dear, you never truly lose it. It just needs a little spark and then you'll have the flames all over again!"

"Are we talking about showmanship or arson?"

"Why not both!"

You laughed. His chest did that pleasant squeeze again. Maybe he'll allow you to sit in on a broadcast one of these days....Well, that was a future question.

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

Hi it's me the writer. I actually did the things that the reader talked about in this. It was a lot of fun for me and my attention-hungry existence. My parents didn't really dissuade me from it though. But. Uh. I think it was more like a 'entertain the child's whims' kind of thought. Which was fair, because I didn't exactly pursue that long. Though I still had fun playing it and figured i'd write something short about it. The three CDs I used were "Wicked", "Pokemon", and "The Shrek Soundtrack". Favorite songs to play from them, in order "No Good Deed", "The Pokemon Rap", and "Accidentally in Love" That info isn't important to anyone but me so i shared it anyway lol.

[liahaslosthermind]

~ 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝑩𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅 ~

Past Rhysand x OC (Adelaide), Eventual Azriel x OC Part 4 of Betrayal Summary: What becomes of a family so fractured? Warnings: Suicidal thoughts and ideology, Attempted murder of family, Hurt/No Comfort, Death of a loved one, Grief, Cheating, Betrayal.

Shadows cover his vision, taking away the pleasure of seeing Rhysand's face as Azriel wrapped his hands around his brother's neck, intending to not let go till he is long gone.

Azriel couldn't even think at the moment, nothing on his mind but the seer hatred he feels for his oldest friend. Nothing on his mind but Rhysand's continued betrayal to Adelaide, even as her body lays still in its eternal resting place.

If she couldn't get revenge for the betrayals right now, Azriel would be her warhorse, having gotten good at the art of revenge over his long life.

So filled with anger, Azriel forgets to leave the walls around his mind locked up tight. It usually wouldn't have been a problem, even at their weakest, breaking into Azriel's mind was no easy feat. But the fear Feyre felt for her mate was enough to fuel her abilities. Suddely, Azriel went slack on top of Rhysand, having been knocked out by Feyre's daemati powers. She hadn't meant to fully knock him out, but she was far too worried about her mate to care all that much right now.

Cassian grabbed Azriel, restricting his arms and legs so he wouldn't be able to attack his brother if he woke up, but not tight enough to hurt him.

The room was silent apart from Rhysand's heavy panting as he caught his breath and Feyre's cooing as she tried to comfort him.

"Are you stupid, boy?" Amren asked, but everyone knew it was rhetorical. "In what court would it be a good idea to tell your grieving and suicidal brother that you made the woman you left his best friend for, the dead best friend he is grieving still, your wife and High Lady?"

Again, it was posed as a question, but Rhysand knew better than to try and answer it.

"We had talked about this, brother. Until we saw that he was better, we couldn't tell him. You may have had more reasons that just wanting to make Feyre your High Lady, but Azriel won't care for the politics of it."

"He was going to kill himself, Cassian! He isn't going to get better. I didn't mean to tell him like that, gods know I can't blame him for what he just tried to do, but we all need to get it into our heads that he is not who he was, that he won't ever be. We lost him the day we lost her." Rhys' voice broke at the end as he said the quiet part out loud.

Truly, as well as he could, Rhysand did see Azriel's side. Love had made him stupid and blind and he knew he did things that the man Rhysand was a few years ago would have also killed him over, but love had changed Azriel too.

Not wanting to partake in the difficult conversation, everyone seemed to disappear, leaving the High Lord alone with his brothers. One unconscious and the other wishing he was so he wouldn't have to talk about what they were certainly about to talk about.

"You had told Addie time and time again that you had no wise for marriage, no wish to tie her to all the responsibilities you had, no wish to put a target on her back. Had I been in slightly worse state of mind when you first told us, I would have tried to kill you too over your hypocrisy, so would most of us."

It was true, the entire family, sans the Archeron sisters, wanted to kill their High Lord for his stupidity, for his continued betrayal. Once Nesta had been filled in on the details behind why it was brutal for him to make Feyre his High Lady, Nesta ran to her sisters to tell her, disgusted that he would continue to hurt his late lover like this.

Only her sisters didn't bat an eye. They knew. They didn't care.

They had their own reasons for their dislike for Adelaide. In Feyre's mind, Adelaide stood between her and her mate, playing the role of the evil mistress trying to break the happy couple apart, even if Feyre easily fit the description too.

For Elaine, it was more skewed. She blamed Adelaide for taking Azriel from her. While the girl had been alive, she had tried to bring the two together after Elaine confided in her about her feelings for Addie's best friend. When Adelaide gushed about how happy she was to hear that, how she had noticed the way the Shadowsinger looked at the youngest sister, Elaine felt as though a boulder had been taken off her chest. Addie never mentioned Elaine's mate, never made her feel bad for not having feelings for him, for wanting another man.

But a few months before she died, Azriel stopped with all the flirtation. He closed himself off from Elaine, remained only by Adelaide's side, and Elaine had assumed it had been her doing. That Addie had gotten jealous when they almost kissed and commanded her best friend forget about Elaine. It made her so mad she wished the stupid girl was dead.

Then when she did die, Azriel was a ghost. No matter what Elaine tried, he just wouldn't get over his misery and grief. So she blamed Adelaide for dying, for closing any opportunities she would have had to get the Spy Master back.

Rhysand didn't reply to what Cassian had said, didn't even give any indicator that he heard the male. Standing up and brushing himself off, he spoke as much as he could with the damage Azriel did to his vocal cords, "Put him in her room. Not his, he doesn't sleep there anymore. I'll call Madja to check on me, and then him. Maybe its time we keep a closer eye on him and if we must, get him help that isn't us."

Cassian was surprised at Rhysand's command. Despite the High Lord knowing he was fully to blame for most of this, Cassian hadn't expected his brother to be so forgiving of his other brother's suicide and murder attempt. But he did as the High Lord said.

It was the first time the General got a good look at Azriel in a while. He had spent the day before with him, but even then Azriel was closed off, hiding his emotions. When he was asleep, Cassian could take in his gaunt face, his pronounced eye bags, and the wrinkle lines that had yet to smooth down from his constant frowns.

He was still beautiful, nothing could take away the Shadowsinger's unnecessary handsomeness, but he wasn't the same as he had been the past 500 years. Cassian had seen him through some of his hardest moments, seen most of his brother's scars form, but he had never looked like this. He looked more lifeless than Adelaide did in her casket.

Gods, what a mess this already disfunctional family has become.

[gothamite-rambler]

This is my headcanon for my fanfic, Jim Gordon discovered Batman's civilian identity at this point and him arriving with a third Robin makes him finally tell Batman he knows he's Bruce Wayne. You don't have to agree with this, it's just my headcanon plus I like the idea he figured it out and just kept quiet.

Commissioner Gordon waits on the roof for Batman, but he can sense something crazy is about to happen.

Batman: Commissioner Gordon.

Gordon turns around and immediately looks at the new Robin (Tim Drake) that is next to him.

Gordon (jaded): You gotta be kidding me.

Batman: I'm aware how odd this looks. I can acknowledge the weridness at this point.

Gordon: He looks the same age as the other kid. Hey kid.

Robin: Sup Commissioner Gordon I met your daughter she's pretty cool.

Gordon (accepting all of this): I raised her well, thanks.

Batman: I'm aware that I said I would not have another Robin but... this one came to me. I can tell by your expression that that didn't help the situation.

Robin (hands on hips): I earned this roll nothing weird about that.

Gordon: Batman, at this point I'm not even shocked that you have a new Robin but um... Um... Do you have a specific preference for short, black haired boys?

Batman looks directly at Robin then shrugs because he can't think of a good response.

Robin (shocked): Why did you phrase it like that?!

Gordon: I have dealt with this man having three robins at this point and yes I know it was three because the first one had a different skin tone and was adorable, the second one cussed me out at random and you are very pale, but all of them have had black hair... what is going on?!

Batman: Honestly, it's a very weird coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless. That is the least of the questions you really need to ask me at this point.

Gordon (sighing): What's his story?

Robin: I stay with Batman so he doesn't kill himself or kill anybody.

Batman (exhausted): Yup, yup, yup, that was what you should tell a police officer. Thank you!

Gordon: Nah, that's the best answer he could have given me in this situation. Can I talk to you in private real quick Batman?

Robin: I can't really stand still for long periods of time so I'm just going to spin around my bo staff while you talk to Commissioner Gordon.

Batman: Sure. I'm kind of accepting of this part of my hero life. Robin, um, stand here and don't eavesdrop on our conversation.

Batman: That works for me.

Batman walks off with Gordon to a good distance from Robin while on the roof.

Batman: Honestly people call me odd for wearing a bat suit but that is the thing that makes the most sense to me nowadays. Plus I look awesome so you can't even critique the suit. I already know you're going to ask me some type of evasive question so go ahead.

Gordon clasps his hands together and takes a deep breath.

Gordon: I've known you for a fairly long time and I'm going to cut to the chase... when were you going to ever tell me that you're Bruce Wayne?

Batman (shocked): What? No ... No I'm not.

Gordon: Bruce, don't play dumb, I figured out you are the same person a while ago, but just be real with me. I'm not going to arrest you or anything, your secret is safe with me. I promise.

Batman groans, burying his head in his hands.

Gordon: That confirmed it. I became suspicious after Barbara got shot but Jason Todd, your adopted son, turning out to be the Robin definitely verified it. The rest of Gotham has bought the story that your adopted son somehow became Robin and you weren't Batman because "Why would someone like Bruce Wayne be Batman?" Freaking Gotham news, you're lucky that they're so believable.

Batman: You're not going to tell anyone are you? I'm going through a lot right now!

Gordon: As I said, your secret will remain that. We've been through these couple crazy years together, you were there for Barbara when she got shot, wasn't too hot about the fact that it was the Joker, but I got over it and much like when my daughter told me she's batgirl I'm fine with it. You're my friend don't worry about it.

Batman: Oh... you still see us as friends... I'm... Huh, not really used to this, am I?

Gordon: I go through the same struggles. Do you want to go over the case with him in front of us or I don't know how to handle this, this is like your third Robin.

Gordon laughs as Batman groans embarrassed.

Batman: Yeah this kid is pretty smart so he can be listening in- Barbara told you she was Batgirl?!

Gordon: Oh yeah, but I figured it out a year and half before she had told me. You guys got to remember, I'm a detective.

Batman: This might sound rude, but I did not think you were that good at your job the police here are very corrupt.

Gordon (nods in agreement): Fair enough, let's head back to the kid and get this case started.

Gordon walks back over to Robin along with Batman. Batman looks dejected but Gordon pats him on the back to give him some type of sympathy.

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch (SOTUS) 3/5

I'm making my way through the blacklisted shows I was supposed to watch during Pride. I already watched Love in the Air but paused The Untamed so I could deal with my sworn enemy, SOTUS. I'm watching it in five parts (first, second), so now I'm starting on episode seven and have decided 1) Kongpob x M are the perfect ghost ship, 2) this show feels much older than 2016 due to the language and style, and 3) this is a story of a masochistic dom looking for a sado sub.

Since I can't remember anything about this show, I'm actually excited to see all the ways Kong seeks out punishment warmth from P'Oon in the second half of this series.

Prem and Wad aren't going to be a couple, are they? I want them to be because Prem going instantly soft after they fought another faculty together and now being worried about Wad's wounds is the whole purpose for men to fight! Punch each other, then kiss the bruises!

I have no Photoshop skills, so I would never criticize someone else's work, but there are times when I see that this show was made with a budget consisting of two pennies rubbed together, and this is one of those moments because who added those people into the scene?! And why are they layered ON TOP of each other?!

For the people who hated Tae and Mee in The Trainee and the sports day episode in The On1y One, those people would be pissed watching episode seven of SOTUS because it's focused on the hets, capturing the flag, and nothing else. Someone could've at least passed out on that field, so this could be entertaining for me and the juniors, damn.

The man who played Deer has only acted in one other show, and I'm mad about it. The fact that a senior has to be on that field to answer these ridiculous questions from the freshmen is nonsense, but at least I get to see this man with his gorgeous hair.

Arthit says everything to Kong in the gayest way possible in front of all his homies and God without any sense of irony.

And Kong matches that energy every damn time! I'm already sick of them.

Forming a circle around Arthit to say thanks is kinda creepy to me, which is why it makes perfect sense that this was Kong's idea since these two continue to declare their love for each other indirectly while making everyone within two miles witness.

But this moment reminded me of Lisa's "Rockstar" music video, so Thailand stays consistent.

Kong is begging to be punished! Asking Arthit if anyone else knows he cries and likes pink milk is not small talk, and I know Kong just wants to feel like the most special boy for knowing all of this, but I also fully believe he wants Arthit to slap him.

M came on this trip so he could make heart eyes at Kong, and I will not be convinced otherwise. If I forget May exists, my ship is untouchable. M loves Kong, and it's canon to me.

Arthit is a Ken! He made all the boys go out to the water, so he could make the girls listen to him play a song on the beach. Someone needs to ask Greta Gerwig if she has watched SOTUS. Greta, if you're in the room with us right now, blink twice.

"If I tell you to die, will you do it?" YES! What the hell do you think this kid has been trying to tell you?! He wants you to choke him? He wants you to slap him? He has been instigating a fight with you since the first day because he wants your hands on him in the most violent ways. Baby is a masochist and needs to be kept!

I stand by the claim I made in an earlier post that the crew doesn't seem to like Krist because these title cards in-between parts of the episode do him sooooo dirty. There is no need for this to be the image, but here we are. This is rude.

I could never hate M. He is so kind and so dumb. I love those qualities in men.

And I love these qualities in women! (Sidenote: Let Jan kiss more homies, GMMTV!)

GMMTV's 2024 Outing, is that you player?

Since Love Sick and Addicted Heroin have been remade, when SOTUS is remade, M and Kong should be the main couple, and May should ship them while also trying to date Prae. Friends-to-Lovers, fifteen episodes, and make New and Singto play the characters again.

This is the biggest "hell nah" from me because I would not have that many people WALKING ON ME barefoot as some form of initiation. Walking on people is reserved for sex stuff! Just walking on people to walk on people is not normal, and should stop immediately!

I can see the wheels spinning in Arthit's head, but the pieces are not connecting for him. Your man likes when you yell at him. Kong likes when you get upset at him. The kid likes pushing your buttons because then he gets all your attention. Now say it with me, "Kong is a masochist"

Kong is practically begging to be slapped, and if Arthit doesn't do it soon, I will.

This scene hit me so hard I had to pause because it woke me up like I was sleeper agent. I NOW REMEMBER THIS SHOW! Nine episodes in and I finally remember this damn show!

I am white-knuckling my way though this show now because Kong is dressed for a date, Arthit is late and looking like a mess, and Kong is telling Arthit he will do whatever Arthit wants him to, he will like anything Arthit wants him to like, and he will be anything Arthit wants him to be. I do not know how Arthit is experiencing all that Kong is throwing at him, and not realizing that Kong wants to be his pet.

"Call Me by My Name Number: A Boy's Journey to Become a Pet" Where's Mame when you need her?

And now Kong is eating a meal he didn't want, AGAIN, simply because Arthit told him to eat it! I'm not even joking anymore; this shit is kinky, and in this exact moment, I don't hate this show solely because of this reason.

Fuck going to sleep! I'm staying up and watching episode ten, NOW!

[girlsneedff]

NSFW- Minors and Ageless blogs please dni

Nepo-baby!Gojo x f!Reader, Gojo’s a loser/desperate, Modern AU, Masturbation (Gojo), slight public masturbation (tbh it’s just Satoru being down bad)

Word count: 4.5k

Author’s yap: Ok ok ok so- I started this when the lack of AC in my dorm was frying my brain, and it gave me an idea. Now I’m freezing my ass off and fantasizing about the heat. This isn’t too smutty, but if I’m still into this, I might expand… Enjoy pooks <3

Dive In!

It’s hot as shit outside, and you know what that means: the college rec center pool’s gonna be packed.

Every god-forsaken year, the Earth teeters a bit too close to the Sun just around the time that students are moving those obnoxious highlighter-colored carts up and down the streets carrying their belongings. Everyone’s wiping their foreheads, a content sigh when they step into the lobby of the dorm building. This doesn’t last too long, unfortunately. Because as soon as you step onto a resident floor, let alone an actual dorm room, it’s like Satan pulled apart his ass cheeks and sandwiched you right in between ‘em.

Hot as shit and there’s no AC, so for the very unlucky majority who didn’t bring a fan (as instructed by housing, who don’t live under these conditions, mind you), they’re stuck sizzling in their dorms, hopelessly opening their dusty windows for wishing for any semblance of a draft to come in.

It’s miserable. But luckily, there’s a solution! And no, it’s not fighting someone’s mom for the last desk fan in Target.

It’s the university’s recreational pool! Open to all students, it’s like a gift from Heaven (or a college alumni). Everyone, and I mean everyone, is there.

It’s like a big pool party (albeit indoors)- everyone’s got some sort of appendage in the water, trying to cool off. A few girls have their towels set up on the side, lying on their stomach as they scroll on their phone or read a book. A couple of people brought a beach ball- tossing it around. You're sitting on the side chatting with your roommate, Shoko, kicking your feet into the water, as she leans on the rim of the pool, hair up in a clip.

“I don’t get why they haven’t installed any AC units- or even central air.”

“If they even think about renovating, G. Hall will literally fall into smithereens.”

Shoko jokes, resting her chin in her hand as she looks up at you, tiredly.

“As if the Gojo clan wouldn’t be able to donate more money for a renovation. That’s pocket money for them.” You yawn, drained too. The heat is tiring. Especially after the two of you just finished setting up your dorm together for the third year in a row- this time, without your parents to help y’all. Y’all were burning up, and you needed to cool down- real bad.

You do a scan of the pool. Some familiar faces, others not so much. The school’s big as shit, and you keep to yourself and your group- you don’t need to know everybody. Yuki’s in the water with her boyfriend, playing chicken with some other people. She’s got a death grip on his pigtails, almost as if she’s steering him around, smothering his face between her thighs. A guy named Kento- your study partner from last year- is over by the stairs to the pool- wanting to be in it, but not completely submerged. He seems to be enjoying his time by himself. Ino and his boys are the ones hitting around the beach ball, splashing around in the extremely crowded pool.

“Look at all of our sorry asses…” You mutter, sighing as you sip on a drink you brought.

“When I didn’t want summer to end, I wasn’t talkin about the heat. But whatever. 2 more weeks being in the 8th circle of hell, and it’s back to our regularly scheduled progra- oh my-” Shoko stops mid sentence, her eyes glued to something as she hits your thigh profusely.

“What- what? Yaga in a jock strap?” You finally turn and see him (Shoko side eyes you- why would you want to look at Yaga in a jock strap). The man, The myth. The… nuisance.

“I thought he was too good to come here and hang with the common folk.”

“Maybe he wanted to cosplay as a broke college student like the rest of us for a day.”

Satoru Gojo- ultimate legacy, trust fund baby, nepo spawn, and just all-around spoiled brat. And he’s proud of it. Wearing blue Versace swim shorts and his sunglasses indoors, which only works for him with his scary ass eyes, he saunters into the place, expressing unbelievable childlike wonder at the sight of the pool.

“So this is what a public pool is like!”

“You don’t have to sound pretentious.” Suguru quips, walking in front of his best friend to scan the area. It’s crowded as a bitch in this place.

“I’m just- amazed, that's all. And you come here by yourself?”

“No. With other friends. Because I’m likable.”

Satoru frowns at that, shifting his beach chair under his arm uncomfortably.

“And it’s not like you’d come.” This was true. Under normal circumstances, Satoru wouldn’t step foot in this place. The water wouldn’t be good for his skin. But, when his pool’s getting renovated, he figures that he has no choice. He thought that there would be 5, maybe 10 people there. Well, he now knows he was wrong; almost all of JJU: Tokyo is here. And he’s now also made aware of the fact that most students don’t have AC.

He follows behind Suguru as he leads them through the crowd of bodies, the heat radiating from them all damn near breaking Satoru out into a sweat.

“Here- and lean that chair up against the wall or something. It’ll take up too much space.” Suguru says, as he hunkers down on the floor, scooting up to the clearing at the rim of the pool. He smooths the back of his hair up, readjusting his ponytail, sighing when his legs hit the water.

Yea… Satoru’s not doin that. He brought this chair, and he’s gonna use it, spatial awareness be damned. Ignoring all of the dirty looks he gets from people, he sets his chair right next to his friend (who is pretending not to know him) and sits, reclining with a dramatic sigh that only Satoru could argue was authentic. He crosses his legs and puts his hands woven behind his head, looking up and basking… in the industrial light.

“You can’t tan under this IKEA lighting.” Suguru says, not even bothering to look in Satoru’s direction.

“Yea- well, what do you propose that I do?” Satoru can feel himself getting slightly irritated with this public pool shit.

“Get in the water. That’s what we came here for, right.”

Satoru clumsily folds up his chair, not even bothering to go lean it against the wall in fear that he’d lose his sliver of access to the water (he doubts that Suguru would save it for him right now to be honest). Slowly but surely, he eases himself down into the water, holding his breath. He can already feel that he’s goin to need several bubble baths (extra bubbles) after this. He even closes his eyes, wading in the water and trying to get comfortable.

And then Satoru jumps into something. With a slight jolt, he looks over his shoulder and he’s gobsmacked seeing you look back at him, glasses threatening to fall off his dripping face.

He quickly gathers himself, pushing his glasses up then running his hand through his hair. And then he subtly recoils, realizing he just let that filthy shit in his scalp.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Shoko’s got a shit-eating grin on her face, as you look at this man, somewhat horrified. Never did you think that you would ever meet this man face to face, but here he is- back to leg. And he’s hot- I mean, not in the physical way (well, you don’t think he’s bad looking but-) he’s quite literally hot to the touch. It’s abnormal- his body temperature’s like magma.

“Sorry.” He gives you a faint smile, the right dimple he has showing slightly.

“No worries.”

There’s a period of silence, and you take this opportunity to try and turn back to your friend, but he pipes up.

“I’m Satoru, by the way. What’s your name?”

You turn to look at him, gears turning in your head as your decide whether or not you want to give him a fake name or-

Yuki calls your name from the center of the pool and you almost curse at the timing.

“Wanna hop in this round?” She calls, Choso’s hands on her thighs to steady her while her hands are cupped around her mouth, calling out to you. Choso brings them closer.

“No, I’m ok. I don’t have a partner-”

“I’ll be your partner.” Satoru practically has stars in his eyes. "If... you want me to be, though. I'm a stranger, so- so stranger danger…”

Oh brother, he’s rich and a fuckin loser.

"So you wanna play, rich boy?" Yuki asks him, completely neglecting the shudder that both you and Satoru do in response to his whack ass comment. Shit, even Choso winces in response, trying to regulate his usually very expressive face just in case Satoru sees, tells his clan, and Choso’s scholarship ends up revoked.

Satoru manages to stammer out a yes, though followed by him saying he understands if he wasn't invited to play.

"This is not kindergarten- you can play with the big kids." She jokes, hopping off her boyfriend's shoulders and into the water.

"I'll be your partner for this round, if that helps. I’m good at it, don’t worry." You're absolutely elated that Yuki offered herself- you're not sure if you would have been able to team up with Satoru. You and Choso are cool, exchanging a grin as you hop off of the ledge of the pool, plowing through the water over to him.

"Ok...."

"..."

"How do you play chicken?"

Good grief.

“I’ll teach you, then.” Yuki wades over to Satoru, and his lips contort into a nervous grin. He just prays that he doesn’t embarrass himself (anymore than he already has) in front of you.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Satoru ain't shit at playing chicken.

“I’m best friends with a bubble boy…” Suguru mutters under his breath, running his hand painstakingly over his face as he watches Satoru look like a cat in water.

Any splash to his face, and he's completely selling, allowing Yuki to fall off (much to her dismay) or giving you and Choso enough time to make y'all's way over to them to attack. It was to the point that your body was completely dry, save for your feet. Slowly but surely though (after like, 5 rounds), he begins to get the hang of it, getting over his disdain for this rancid water touching his face and accepting the fact that he'll have to do several deep cleanings of his pores when he gets home.

He's actually starting to have fun- settling more into the atmosphere and letting his competitiveness show. And you're not minding it. You were dreading having to interact with him at first, let alone play a game with him because you thought that he would be a dick, but you were wrong. Well, not exactly wrong- but he was less dicky than you thought.

“Ok- time to switch for the next round!” Yuki says with a smile (which looks slightly elated, in your opinion) as she hops off of Satoru’s shoulders.

“Hm? We don’t stay with the same partners every round?” Satoru asks- something you were also thinking. For once you too seem to be on the same page about this game.

“No! We switch every round.” What a goddamn liar. She’s just tired of losing because the pretty princess is scared of getting his face wet.

This means that you’re stuck with the pretty princess. Fuck.

You slowly climb down Choso, who is simultaneously welcoming his girlfriend with open arms. Satoru’s mind is moving a mile a minute with every little ripple of water to inadvertently send in his direction.

You make your way over to the ledge of the pool, hoisting yourself up, and by Heaven- Satoru can see your ass jiggle out of his peripheral and he almost seizes. You turn around, and sit on the ledge, just looking at him. And he swears he’s getting closer to going into cardiac arrest with every second of him being the center of your attention.

“Come here-” You beckon, motioning for him with your hand. He nods helplessly, trying not to look too desperate with how fast he’s moving to you.

“Now I’m not as good as Yuki, so if we lose, it’s not entirely on you this time.” You smile, scooting up, placing your legs over his shoulders. Good lord does this man smell… expensive. It’s good. I’m not talking played out Dior Savauge, I’m talking Hermès, Dolce and Gabbana. You’re a sucker for a good smelling man. Even if this one is quite literally the most dramatic man on Earth.

“I’m not good at all, so anything you do I’ll watch with awe.” He places his hands on your thighs- jeez, his hands are big.

You laugh, thinking he’s joking. He’s not.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You shift nervously on Satoru's shoulders, while Satoru is quite literally in Heaven- though, he would prefer it if his face were the other way. He has never been this close to a woman outside of his family, so this entire interaction was rocking his small little world. He's keeping his hands on your thighs while his mind is completely mush, his ears are flushed. It’s like as soon as you got on his shoulders, his ability to comprehend anything said to him was decimated.

“Satoru- Satoru!”

You call to him as Choso and Yuki splash towards you, Yuki’s face wearing a huge smile now that she’s got the upper hand. You call him again, and all this bumbling buffoon can manage to say to you is “Uh-huh, u-uh-huh.”

(Shoko runs to the bathroom, almost peeing herself from laughing too hard.)

Fuck it- thinking quick, you grab a hold of his hair, trying to Remi-Ratatouille him around. And surprisingly- it works!

Left you go!

Right- to the riiiighhhhhhhhttttt-

Satoru has no fuckin idea what’s going on right now. He’s just happy to be here, a grinning mess while you pull him around the pool, narrowly avoiding Yuki, who’s maniacal laughter trails behind the two of you. 

It’s like riding a horse the way he thoughtlessly follows your pull.

“Satoru- are you ok?” You ask, looking over your shoulder at your opponents. You’re hoping that your teammate will stop being so useless, gain back consciousness, and help you the fuck out.

Getting desperate, you palm the side of his face, shaking it. Suddenly, he stops moving, and it’s like his breath is caught in his throat- a sound was caught in it? You don’t know what happened, because the next thing you knew, Yuki and Choso came crashing into you, causing you and Satoru to fly into the water. 

Gasping for air, you paddle in the water, eyes burning profusely. Satoru comes up soon after this, and you glare at him. 

His cheeks are flushed, as he lets out deep, heavy breaths. “Sorry..” Is all he could seem to muster out, giving you a nervous grin.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

Satoru’s starting to get the hang of it. Ok maybe not really- but he’s more active at least. You appreciate that, as well as the banter he’s contributing. His socially inept demeanor is slowly dissolving, and he’s flinching less and less at the water.

You’re actually having a lot of fun with him.

“You guys can’t keep running forever!” Yuki yells, getting kind of frustrated from how the two of you keep slipping out of her grasp.

“Oh really? watch us.” Satoru’s grip tightens on your thighs as he splashes around to put more distance between y’all, causing you to squeal. 

“Satoru if I fall- go slow!” You say in between laughing fits. 

“Just hold on, and you won’t!”

Maybe you too had a fighting chance with this. Actually- you think you might win at least a round or two.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

You two lost. Miserably. Yuki’s a fucking beast, and Choso’s the definition of an immovable force. You guys could only get away from them for so long- let’s not forget the pool’s crowded as shit. Y’all didn’t stand a chance. But hey- Satoru’s not too bad. Maybe he was just having a rough time adjusting to talking to people who don’t have a networth of $1 million+. But it was fun, you can not lie.

Satoru’s laugh is airy while he allows you to get off of his shoulders, listening to you teasing him for his performance. You shuffle yourself back onto the ledge of the pool next to Shoko, who seems to be in deep conversation with Suguru.

“I never thought that someone could be that bad at Chicken.”

“Hey- I prefaced this entire thing with the fact that I didn’t know how to play.” He laughs again- he’s so giggly right now, removing himself from between your legs and going to the area next to you, places his head in his hand while he looks up at you.

“Yea, but that bad?”

“Mention it again and I’ll have a meeting with Financial Aid about you.” 

The both of you crack up.

…He’s kind of pretty- somewhere in the game he pushed his sunglasses up onto his hair, wet strands of white sticking to his forehead.The sight of his smile warms you up a bit inside. When he’s down here with the common people, he’s a pretty cool person to be around.

“I can see why you don’t come here often, then.” You say, tiling your head towards him.

“Ah, well, I usually just go to my par-” Satoru’s voice dies off. How about he doesn’t talk about his privilege for a bit. Cosplay a normal college student for a little- at least with you. He wants to relate to you- to get to know you on all levels- as much as humanly possible. 

“I… just didn’t see a purpose for it before. But this was fun.”

“A sign for you to come more often, then.”

“Will you be here?”

You smirk. “Why, so you can get our asses whooped in a game again?”

He grins, right dimple once again making an appearance.

“Just asking- the poop- pool- pool. Fuck. The pool’s nice.” He sighs- covering his face in embarrassment, cheeks swelled up with blood. 

“Sorry. Waterlog.”

You burst out laughing- his slip up and awkward responses are starting to grow on you. It’s cute.

“Well I’m sure that you have AC, so you don’t have to worry too much about being hot and sticky in a room.”

“Mmmwell,” He takes a breath, “I wouldn’t mind being hot and sticky with- hm.”

He pauses, letting his embarrassment settle in. “I’ll stop trying to talk now.”

This gets another giggle from you. “You could just say that it would be nice to see me again.” You adjust your bikini bottoms (haha) up on your hips, and then place your hand to your side to lean closer to him.

“It would be, yes.”

“I guess it wouldn’t be too bad to see you, either.”

“Satoru. We gotta go-” Suguru stands up from the ledge with a stretch. “We needa go grab groceries for the apartment.”

Satoru groans. He swiftly hoists himself up out of the water effortlessly (he hopes that you were watching, thanking the lord that he constantly worked out at the apartment gym) and quickly grabs his chair, holding it in front of himself.

“I’ll see you- and the pool again.” 

“Mhm.” You wave him bye while he trails behind Suguru out of the pool room.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

He came in the pool.

He. Fucking. Came. 

Sperm swimming in the chlorine.

He doesn't even know how it happened. With every tug of his white tufts, his dick throbbed and twitched, rubbing against the fabric of his swim shorts in a way that was driving him mad. He was already fighting for his life with having your pussy pressed up against the back of his neck. And the way that you called his name- Oo, it was dizzying for him.

Next thing he knew, your hand was on his face, and he was biting the shit out of his tongue trying not to moan, knees buckling while he shoots into the water.

And you smiled at him!

He practically talked Suguru’s ear off (nothing new) in the car about it while on the drive back to their apartment. Besides the cumming in his pants part- nah, he’s taking that to the grave. He was just so giddy about the day. His first flirtatious interaction with the opposite sex! How exciting!

“Yea yea I get it she’s so pretty, you get hard thinking about her, and you come in your pants just thinkin about her. Can we get out of fantasyland and go into Trader Joe’s now?”

Suguru rolls his eyes, looking out the passenger seat window, his arm hanging out. Satoru flushes.

“Why would anybody cum in the pool?”

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

But yes, where was he? Oh yea, his hand’s fisting his cock.

He doesn’t know how his hand ended up there.

Oh, he was so pathetic today. He couldn’t even speak normally to you, let alone touch you without short-circuiting. And the way you looked at him. Like he was an absolute idiot- he’s never had anyone look at him like that before… except Suguru but it’s not the same. In a weird way, it turns him on. At least he redeemed himself slightly in the end, while he was subtly rubbing himself against the pool walls, the small dips in the tiling making the friction so much more enjoyable. 

What a fucking loser, getting off to the sound of your voice- and in a public place? Your pretty little laugh did wonders to him. And to be under your gaze with such scrutiny- ohmygod he was so happy he brought that chair, using it to cover his hard-on as he smiled at you like an idiot, following behind his best friend like a preschooler going back inside after recess.

He loved seeing how you adjusted your bathing-suit, nipples becoming erect as soon as you got out of the pool. The way that your pussy was a flimsy cloth away from coming into real contact with him- he is swimming in his thoughts right now.

And you smelt so good- it’s definitely nothing he’s ever smelt before (because he’s been close to any woman that’s had a scent worth below $200). The smell is just so- you (he plans on driving to every single fragrance store to pinpoint said scent so he can spray it on his pillow to smell while he plays with himself).

There’s nothing he wouldn’t give to have you splayed out on his bed with his head between your thighs, eating you out until you’re frantically calling for him, a tight grip on his hair the way that only you can do. Fucking his hand while you moan, for him- he’d go bankrupt to hear it. He would make you feel good- he knows it- he’ll make it his life’s mission. The little stutters and quivers you’d make when you would get close, pleading for him to make you cum. And don’t even get him started on how he would feel when his cock sinks into you. He’s confident that he wouldn’t last any longer within five minutes. As soon as he pushes past the rim, he’d be shooting ropes. So he’d have to eat you out first to save the little slivers of his dignity that he has left.

He wonders- would you think he was big? Would you struggle taking him? Fuck, seeing you whine and moan, begging him with cute little “slow down”s and whimpering about how good he’s stretching your cunt. 

He’s so stuck up in the way that your hands entangled themselves into his hair- fuck- he lets out a helpless whine as he continues his fuck sesh, moving his hand upupup, the ring of precum chasing his hand with each stroke. You used his body with little regard to how he would feel- not like he cared. You could use him however the hell you’d like. Fuck, his dick was aching with each tug. 

And you got in that water. 

He’s filthy- just so- so depraved for the way that that makes him harder, causing him to stroke himself faster. You were practically bathing in his cum, albeit unknowingly. How fucking nasty is that? He pictures you accidentally swallowing it- what would it be like watching you actually take it? Would you replicate your teary, chlorine-stung eyes while you were on your knees for him, throat fucked-out, tongue lolled, and waiting for his cum?

With that, he’s seeing stars, shooting comets onto his satin sheets, utterances of “Oh fuck”s and “I’m cumming”s, and finally, with a sigh, says your name while his lower torso twitches from the sensitivity, accompanied with the cool breeze his fan is blowing onto his handless cock.

•───────•°•❀•°•───────•

“The amount of emails we’ve been getting about the heat is starting to get a bit concerning, I must admit.” One of the chairs of the university says, mouth full of food. 

All of the important figure heads of the college are sitting at the Gojo family’s long dinner table, conversing like the old buddies they are. It’s a usual thing for them to do, where they chat about stupid, unimportant uppity-rich people things, like school funding or whatever.

“What do you think we should do about this?” The housing chair directs this question to Satoru’s father, who opens his mouth before his son interrupts quickly, voice booming in the confident air that he learned to develop with people in (or slightly below- not too far below) his tax bracket.

“My friend’s in the dorms say that the dorms are pretty cool- It’s cold in there, even.” Satoru says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders while he pushes his wagyu around on his plate. 

What a fuckin liar, but it’s the cross he’s willing to bare in order to see you again. Bikini covering the parts that make his mouth water, fanning yourself from the heat- hot and bothered, just like him. It’ll be worth the possible pimples he’ll get.

With this, the big-wigs frame their decision around this.

“Oh, really? It’s already so cold…”

“it would also mean that we would have to expand the budget.”

“The students should be fine without AC. If anything, the pool is open.”

Satoru looks down, smiling to himself.

If the students of Jujutsu University: Tokyo knew that the only reason they’re not getting AC units is because Satoru Gojo, all-around nepo-baby, spoiled brat, and pussy-whipped loser wants to have a chance to see the girl he fucks himself to at the pool again, they’d barbeque and skewer him alive.

[tsbs-shipfessions]

Well... Since I visited, I might as well leave my confession.

I'm obsessed with Eclipse x Ruin.

Ruin and Eclipse being two sassy villains, that act all flirty around each other.

People look at them and be like: "Are they a couple or something?"

And they just deny the accusations, meanwhile, they were kissing minutes ago.

I can also imagine Ruin being all touchy and Eclipse being touch-starved. Ruin is always hugging, kissing and petting Eclipse. Meanwhile, Eclipse just melts into the touches. The only form of physical touch Eclipse gives to Ruin, is putting his arm around his lover.

Ruin tends to throw himself dramatically at Eclipse, because he knows they'll catch him. He also looks taller, because Eclipse is always holding him.

Or they being in a doomed relationship

They both fall in love with each other, but can never be together. They don't even know what love feels like. And when they noticed that, they were scared of the feeling. Especially Ruin, since, most of the time, the only thing he has control over is his emotions.

I'm also liking the idea of Puppet x Foxy x Sun. They are so cute!

I imagine they all cuddled up on the sofa, drinking wine, mostly Sun and Puppet, and watching anime or just playing games. Just relaxing after a stressful day.And since Puppet and Sun tend to overwork themselves sometimes, Foxy just manages to convince them to take a break. He always succeeds.

All of this was adorable, with a hint of tragedy. Lovely.

[lexirosewrites]

This is general omegaverse but what are your favorite headcanons for courting rituals?

oooh yeah i have lots of ideas about courting! every one of my fics that involve courting rituals are also a smidge different because it’s such a fun thing to play around with

personally, i think there are a lot of “optional” steps in traditional courting that then get adapted in modern AUs, but some key steps tend to stay the same

1. gifts: flowers, poetry, baked goods

i think tokens of affection being given is so sweet and such a great initial step to show interest in a potential mate. extra points for the pursuing partner tailoring their gifts to something their giftee loves

2. exchanging scent tokens: scarf, jacket, blanket

this step involves both parties because they get to mingle scents via swapping scented items. they start to plan for a life together and make sure that both they and their scents are truly compatible. scenting symbolizes trust and pack!

3. official proposal: rings, bites, first knotting

tying the knot! i love the idea of a marriage/mating being a variety of things bundled into one. while omega/beta couples (and other non-traditional pairings) may not be able to mate, their tradition of exchanging rings for unity is shared to alpha/omega couples too! exchanging bites or reserving their first knotting for when they’re going to mate makes it official!

[canmom]

Animation Night 191 - Yuzuru Tachikawa

this is what it's like to play jazz.

OK, so, you know Mob Psycho 100? Maybe I don't even need to say more than that...

Yuzuru Tachikawa! If you're a sakuga type, perhaps a familiar name... if not, let's take a moment to rewind the clock to the strange ancient times of 2013, where there was a certain something called the Young Animators Training Project. Which was a project to train young animators. More substantially, as kvin writes here, it was a project designed to address the collapsing training processes of the anime industry... a project which fell rather short of its aims in many ways.

But in its earlier days, it did fund a couple of very interesting, unique short films. One of them was the original Little Witch Academia, which went on to expand into one of Trigger's flagship series. And the other... was Death Billiards, directed and written by a certain Yuzuru Tachikawa, rising episode director star, at Madhouse.

The premise of Death Billiards, and the later expanded esries Death Parade, is that the dead find their way into bars whose bartenders judge whether they should be reincarnated based on 'death games'. What's a death game? Well, standard bar stuff: billiards, darts... the title is in fact very literal. And it slapped. kVin writes:

Death Billiards was nothing short of a passion project for Tachikawa, who wrote, directed, and storyboarded it all. It was his opportunity to make a stance. To prove he wasn’t just a great ally for other creators, or even a suitable second in command, but rather someone deserving of helming his own titles as he pleased. In his second showing as director—the one fan of the 2012 multimedia project Arata-naru Sekai happens to be a friend of mine and he’ll kill me if I don’t mention it—Tachikawa held nothing back. Death Billiards’ exploration of ambiguity and moral failings that had always intrigued Tachikawa stuck with people all around the world too, and its presentation was so stylish that not even Yoh Yoshinari’s dazzling LWA managed to overshadow it. The OVA immediately put Tachikawa on the map, but truth to the told, that’s far from the extent of its success.

And indeed, Tachikawa - and producer Takuya Tsunoki - went on to do many great things, building up a strong gang of animators around them, many of them associated with the young Studio NUT. Of course, their best known project is Mob Psycho 100, a popular comedy-shōnen manga by One (same mangaka as One Punch Man) which plays around with chuunibyou (in the original sense) ideas of psychic powers in, ultimately, a very grounded, affirming way - and to this Tachikawa et al. brought a slightly sketchy, experimental style which led to some pretty crazy action animation. Mob was a crazy hit; later came their long-term passion project DECA-DENCE, a very fun scifi piece about humans trapped in an elaborate physicalised game, rebelling against the system and staging prison breaks, full of slick zero-g action sequences...

Course while we're talking about NUT, we gotta mention their first work Youjo Senki, perhaps the most outright loathsome anime I've ever seen. Not to beat this dead horse. I can only imagine that the staff working on it were like... somehow oblivious to the blatant nazi barely-even-subtext of what they were adapting? (In keeping with the unfortunate ways that otaku culture plays with nazi imagery.) I just can't square it with any of the other stuff they've made, Deca-Dence in particular. Tachikawa at least was only peripherally involved in that hot mess.

We're not actually here to talk about Mob or Deca-Dence though - they're both way too long for Animation Night. Instead we'll be rolling the clock forward to Tachikawa's most recent project at NUT: an adaptation of Blue Giant, about boys playing jaazzzzzz.

also eating burger.

Blue Giant follows Dai, an aspiring saxophonist, as he grows up and toots despite the hostility of the patrons of his local music shop. The film adapts some of the later volumes of the manga, in which Dai has already made some progress in his playing. Dai falls in with two other jazz players: the experienced and arrogant Yukinori and novice drummer Shunji as they form a band. Before long, conflict brews over just how hardcore you should go.

The film is, naturally, a celebration of jazz, full of elaborate scenes of performance, described as being like "a full-blown music video" to really sell you on how moving and awesome jazz movie can be. Jazz and anime can be a great combo (just ask anyone who's seen Cowboy Bebop or Gundam Thunderbolt) and I am pretty curious to see what they come up with here.

Honestly, while I've enjoyed Mob and Deca-Dence, I definitely feel like I'm sleeping a bit on Tachikawa - so tonight I hope to remedy it by checking out where he came from and where he's currently going, with a night of Death Billiards and Blue Giant! NUT's animation is always lively and stylish - they're also the studio where the master of anime-industry animation tutorials, Dong Chang, works - so I think we'll surely see something cool.

Animation Night 191 will be going live shortly at twitch.tv/canmom, I hope to see you there! And apologies for the late start - without going into too much of what's happening behind the scenes here, we should (touch wood) soon be able to get back to an earlier schedule, but for now we're still on witching hours.

[one-fancy-flapjack]

Hey guys guess what ?? It came to my attention we're lacking some Wolf Jackson content around here, so here are a few random hcs !

I've never done this before so please be nice !

Random Wolf Jackson Headcanons

🔫- Okay so first thing first, this man gives me major bi vibes.

🔫- You'd think he's dating his assistant Janet but they're just besties! I can picture them gossiping together when it's a very slow day.

🔫- Speaking of, Janet's probably the one keeping the Afterlife Crime Unit together. Wolf's not that great at his job.

🔫- Speaking of his job, actual detectives that have died have to nudge him into the right direction to close his cases.

🔫- You've seen that shot with the bin FULL of coffee cups ? I like to think he actually hates coffee and Janet just keeps on bringing him more because she thinks it's funny. (And also because Wolf thinks it "matches his aesthetic")

🔫- Loves karaoke. Will hog the stage/mic and sing Frank Sinatra songs until he's dragged off the stage.

🔫- He may or may not have had a crush on Beetlejuice at some point.

🔫- I feel he might have those broadway makeup mirrors at his place. Actually you know what, I feel like this man still has a full on skin care routine. As an actor I feel he might have had one and it stuck to it even in the afterlife. "Gotta look the part!"

🔫- I don't think I've seen children/young teens in the afterlife in both movie / musical but I for sure know this man would be great around children and try to make their afterlife less bleak. Organizing movie nights & playing cops and robbers with them.

🔫- Huge romantic, in his own, cheesy yet serious kind of way.

🔫- Rehearses his pickup lines in the mirror.

🔫- He died somewhere around the 1970s. Absolutely does not understand modern slang. He has an old Deskop on his desk and he keeps on trying turning it on like a tv.

🔫- Would rather die than be seen outside his office without his trench coat.

🔫- His gun is a prop. It cannot be used to fire at someone. He died with it and now mostly uses it for intimidation. Same thing goes for smoking fake cigarettes. Aesthetic king.

🔫- Another genre he likes other than crime/detective movies is ✨ reality tv✨. That man lives for the drama and gets way too involved into it. Tries to guess which couples will form/break, and who's the traitor with the help of his "detective abilities".

(I'm running out of ideas, I might write more later. Hope you liked these !)

[b0r3dtod3ath]

Could I pls request smth a bit more dark/angsty? Ben Shelton x tennis player!reader where reader is dealing with a break-in from a stalker? And how Ben reacts and deals with reader experiencing some trauma and wanting to protect/care for her?

Inspired by “The Diner” by Billie Eilish

♡ navigation / request info / tennis masterlist

♡ warnings: none

♡ a/n: thank you for the request! i like this idea a lot and here's how it turned out. i may rewrite it in future tho

You signed as you stepped out of an uber. It had been a long tournament, every match you fought hard and managed to get into the semis. But now, all you wanted was to collapse on your couch and relax. 

Walking up the pathway to your apartment building, you reached into your pocket for your keys, feeling the familiar weight of them. As you approached the mailbox you braced yourself for the usual collection of bills and junk mail. But as you flipped open the mailbox, your stomach dropped. There, amongst other letters, was an envelope with your name scrawled in messy handwriting. 

You froze. This wasn’t just any letter. You could recognize this handwriting anywhere. You’d seen it before in the disturbing messages that had been arriving sporadically for the past few months. Messages you tried to ignore, hoping they were nothing dangerous. 

With shaky hands you closed the mailbox and looked around you for any potential people. You grabbed the envelope and hurried up to your apartment. Fumbling with your keys, you unlocked the door and immediately knew something was wrong. 

As you walked inside your cautious eyes darted around the scene. The living room was in chaos - drawers pulled out, many items on the floor, bookshelves emptied. 

The kitchen was a mess - plates and glasses laid shattered, the refrigerator door was open, its contents scattered all over the countertops and floor. A chill ran down your spine when you noticed an empty slot. A knife was missing from its usual place.

You slowly made your way into your bedroom. And then you saw it: the picture frame on the ground, shattered glass glittering in the sunlight. It was a photo of you and Ben, taken at a tournament months ago. In matching outfits, both of you smiling from ear to ear, having just played your first doubles as a couple. But something was horribly wrong. The part of the photo where Ben had been standing was ripped out, leaving only you. His side was torn to pieces. 

Your breath caught in your throat, when you started checking other photo frames. In every single one, Ben’s face was gone, either cut out, ripped off or scribbled over with a pen. 

You forced yourself to breathe, to focus. The letter was still in your hand, its edges crumpled from your grip. You didn’t want to open it, didn’t want to see what was inside. But you felt the need to know what was inside.

You tore the envelope open and pulled out the contents. A chill ran down your spine as you unfolded several printed photos of yourself. Candid shots of you in various places: walking to practice, grabbing coffee, even through your apartment window. Your hands shook as you flipped through them, each one a violation of your privacy. On the back of each photo there was a date has been messily scribbled. 

And the letter. Tears ran down your cheeks as you read the words. “Don’t be afraid. I’m what you need” , “I know, we’re meant to be” . But the last line made you drop the letter “If something happens to him, you can bet that it was me”. 

Without a second thought you grabbed your phone and dialed your boyfriend’s number. It rang once, twice, and then his voice, calm and steady, came through the line. "Hey, you back already?". His tone opened a flood as you started hiccuping and crying even more. “Are you okay? He.. he was in my apartment..” you choked out. “What? I’m coming over. Don’t touch anything, I will be there soon”. 

You stood in your bedroom, amongst all the mess, and cried while Ben was still on the line with you. You heard someone walking into the house. Once Ben found you he immediately pulled you in a tight hug, comforting you as his eyes darted around the room. 

After a moment he broke the hug but his arm still rested on your body. As he called the police he noticed a letter on the floor and picked it up. His brows furrowed as he briefly read the message. 

For the next hour, the officers moved through your apartment, taking photographs, collecting samples, and documenting the scene. You sat back down on the couch, Ben’s arm around your shoulders, keeping you anchored as you watched them work.

One of the police officers recommended staying somewhere else while they look for the offender. Somewhere safe. 

The days that followed were filled with tension and sleepless nights. You stayed at Ben’s place, he refused to leave you alone even for a second. He could see how scared you were all the time. He wanted to do more, to fix everything but all he could do was be there for you, to try and bring back some sense of security.

Ben took care of all the practical things. He called the police for updates. But every time he came back to you, his focus shifted completely to how you were holding up.

Some days were harder than others. But nights were the hardest. You couldn’t sleep alone. Every sound, crack or light made you jump. He noticed your state, he stayed up late, stroking your back. “I’m right here” he’d whisper into the darkness whenever you woke in a panic. "No one's going to hurt you. Not while I'm here”. 

You started going out less, avoiding any public places. He didn’t push you, instead he bought your favorite places home. He brought your favorite foods, organized dinner dates and movie nights in his apartment.

He knew you missed the court, but he also knew you needed time. He made sure your practices happened on very private courts with no one else there. He was always with you. 

You were grateful, but you could see the toll it was taking on him too. There were mornings when he looked as exhausted as you felt, dark circles under his eyes. He put on a brave face, never letting you see how worried he was, but you knew. Even with death threats from the letter in his mind he was trying so hard to be strong for you, to keep you safe while pushing his own fears aside. 

Gradually in the span of weeks you started going out more. Short walks first, occasional stops at small coffee shops. With time you felt better and better. The nightmares still haunted you but with Ben by your side everything was easier. 

september 21, 24

[tameila]

Do you have a royalty AU for pikelan???

I apologize for the delay! I see Pikelan, as a couple and individually, being rather antithetical to the role and circumstance of royalty. So, I needed some time to rotate a couple ideas around in my head until I found one that felt right and, even so, it's more royalty-adjacent. Still, I hope that you enjoy! also, this idea was inspired, in part, by The Cry of The Icemark. no formal knowledge of it needed. i was just heavily influenced by a scene from it for this idea so wanted to give credit where credit is due.

After an inexplicable haze befalls the royal family of Whitestone and much of their royal guard, locking them in a magic stasis, Ser Pike Trickfoot – saved from the spell by her touch from the divine – must defend her home and friends from the approach of the Briarwoods and their undead army.

At her side is the traveling singer, Scanlan Shorthalt.

In better times, the two were better acquainted as drinking buddies. Despite being a noble knight by occupation, Pike is a simple, country girl at heart. There is only so much pomp and circumstance and royal idiosyncrasies that she can stomach before she must take a night off to mingle with the people. Scanlan made frequent stops to Whitestone. (Even more so after he first spotted Pike). And it only took a couple shows and a few drinks before the two found themselves engaged in a reoccurring game of flirtatious chicken. Neither of them ever caving.

Now, with the kingdom in disarray, Scanlan arrives with news of the approaching darkness and an offer of his help. An offer that Pike initially refuses – not wanting a civilian to put themselves into danger, no matter how charming they may be – until Scanlan reveals that he is no simple singer but a purveyor of the lost arcane arts, a true bard, in the flesh!

Together, the two travel to seek allies and guidance – appealing to the druids, the roving giants, and even the dead.

It is with the druids’ help that they receive a book of the ancient arcane. Within it may be a spell to undo the curse upon the kingdom but, first, it must be translated from the long dead language in which it was first written.

As Pike rallies their gathered troops, Scanlan sets to work.

Meanwhile, the approaching darkness creeps ever closer.

The night before it crests upon the kingdom, Scanlan – wild-eyed and sleep deprived – bursts into the war room where Pike (tired-eyed and sleep deprived) is and announces that he has uncovered the spell. To celebrate, the two descend into the city. In the tavern, despite the eve of war, the hodgepodge troops drink and revel and sing. Scanlan and Pike join them. Their familiar game quick on their heels. They spend the night, dancing on tables, hands grasping hands and shoulders and waists, body seeking body, spinning, laughing until they fall asleep under a table, so tangled in each other that it just made sense to stay that way.

In the morning, they untangle. Hands and gazes linger, just a moment, long enough to swap hushed reassurances, before they move grimly to their tasks.

Scanlan locks himself in the throne room with the cursed royal family, spell book in hand, and begins the recitation.

Pike dons her armor and rides to the front lines. Following in her wake are the giant Grog, Keyleth of the druids, and the ghastly Vax.

At dawn, darkness descends.

Deep in the castle, Scanlan sets his jaw and tries to block out the noises of war. Pike left a troop to guard him should the worst come to pass and the enemy breaches the city walls. He knows that Pike would die before she let that happen, and that knowledge sits like a clawed thing in his gut, digging its talons ever deeper, as the fighting seems to grow closer and closer.

Pike’s in trouble, the thought hits him, sudden and fierce.

His focus wavers. The spells only needs another hour more, but what does it matter if Pike’s not here in the end?

Scanlan throws down the book and runs for it.

Outside, a storm rages unlike any that Whitestone has ever seen. Rain lashes at Scanlan’s skin as he races to the city wall and climbs the tallest tower on the battlements.

There, despite the rain in his eyes and the chaos of the battlefield, Scanlan’s gaze focuses on Pike amongst the fray. She is badly wounded, a heaviness to her steps, but she fights on as relentless and fierce as the storm. She would never go down without a fight, but Scanlan refuses to let her go down at all. As lightning strikes in the distance, lighting the battlefield and followed by a stone-shaking crack of thunder, Scanlan remembers another spell from that book. It’s dangerous. Stupid. Reckless. Certain death for him, that’s for sure, but –

Pike slips in the mud, barely shielded from an incoming attack by Grog, and Scanlan moves without another thought. Using himself as a conductor, Scanlan calls down lightning. He holds his concentration long enough, even as his skin smokes and boils from the inside out, to sweep the spell through the enemy’s front line. Then, it all goes black.

The enemy retreats, the storm subsides, and the first sight of sunlight through the clouds finds Pike on the battlements with Scanlan’s ruined, charred body in her arms.

In the aftermath, the druids secret Scanlan away deep underground to recover. It was only by a spark of the divine that he survived, but it will take old magic, far older than even the arcane that he wields, to heal his body.

Pike rarely leaves his side.

It takes nearly a month before he finally wakes. Laid bare across a stone table, only a sheet thrown across his lap to protect his dignity (though Scanlan will joke later that the effort was appreciated but fundamentally pointless), his conscious sharpness on Pike’s tearful face. His immediate response is to comfort her, to raise a shaky hand and wipe away her tears. Pike, just as immediate, bundles him up in her arms and squeezes him so tight that the surrounding druids all wince and make halted attempts to stop her.

Scanlan apologizes for leaving his post that day. He just – He couldn’t let anything happen to her. He’ll return to the spell as soon as he can, if they haven’t already found someone else.

Pike calls him stupid and impulsive and – Doesn’t he know? His spell worked. The royal family and the other afflicted were freed and waiting for them at the resolution of the battle. The crown wants to offer him a knighthood or title and a piece of land, as soon as he recovers, of course. Scanlan laughs. He didn’t do it for the accolades. Well, a little appreciation might be nice, maybe a fancy title to whip out at parties…but, nah, as long as he still gets to see her, he’s happy.

Scanlan realizes then that he’s naked. Well, except for that sheet that’s shifted greatly since Pike jumped into his arms. He cracks a joke about how he didn’t expect that this would be how Pike saw him naked for the first time.

Pike laughs – “Me neither!” – and kisses him.

Going forward, Pike returns to her position at the palace. While the King and Queen insist upon her receiving her due accolades and decorations, Pike is happiest when the festivities and celebrations subside, and life settles once more. Scanlan got his recognition – a title and a modest appointment at the castle where he can continue his arcane studies – but most nights still find him at the tavern, singing and dancing with his dear Pike.

[crossbackpoke-check]

Dysprosium, Mary Soon Lee

dysprosium, AN 66, is a silvery-white rare earth metal. its name is derived from the greek dysprositos, meaning “hard to get at”, owing to the difficulty in separating and isolating this rare earth element. dysprosium is used to measure neutron flux, to fuel reactors, and to activate phosphors. terfenol-d is a magnetorestrictive alloy, meaning that it changes shape when a magnetic field is applied, and is used to manufacture underwater acoustic systems.

jason “robo” robertson, dallas stars #21 for @simmyfrobby’s nhl periodic table poems <3

[kate-apologist]

i am begging for someone to canonize a little more info about kate's other kid because a deep dive into the wiki revealed the potential they're in the 3-6 age range when she has to go dark (assuming it's around the 2017-2018 time span) which......

the implications??????

to be fair it's based in an aside by kate's half-nephew who might not have been aware of her second kid (unlikely considering him and gordy are besties but hey who knows) that places the potential span of time from 2011 to 2014, when the line in death in heaven about kate being a divorcee is canonized. and of course doctor who canon is more malleable than playdough, so all of it can be taken with grains of salt but still!

i love stories that have kate's second kid being a young adult, i think it's fun (and i've done it all the time) but now i want to see a 2024 return to power kate trying to rebuild her relationship with an at most 13 year old at youngest 10 year old who hasn't seen her for around 6 years. like her grappling with her own terrible relationship with her parents while trying not to do the same to this kid who already probably resents her a little bit for up and abandoning them

i'm pleading i'm begging for more kate content at any given point but cmon that's the same around age that her mother breaks up with the brigadier and they fully separate the parallels-

[ceruleanvermillion]

Okay what if Zhongli was a Siming/Arbiter of destiny because he's all about gold and suns and suns are stars and stars are constellations, and constellations are fate.... what if fate is a kind of contract. What if this is the Hu Tao parallel that Zhongli has all along. Maybe thats why he works in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor. I'll get back to this Arbiter of Fate Zhongli theory I think I'm obsessed