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enyaliuswrites · 15 hours ago

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➽ Just for Practice

Caleb x fem!reader Thank you @erensfeed for the idea and all the help she gave me!! Tysm nunnie! Hope this is a nice surprise for when you wake up <3 warnings: suggestive topics, mature, kissing (of course)

"Kissing? That’s what got you so worked up? Kissing is why you haven’t been eating my braised pork?" Caleb's lilac eyes fix on you like you’re crazy, a hint of something darker lurking beneath as he frowns.

"Ugh, I told you you wouldn’t get it." you groan, flopping onto your bed in frustration and avoiding his gaze, you didn’t want to see Caleb judging you.

Your high school graduation is just a few months away, but so far, every girl in your class won’t stop talking about the people they’ve kissed this year. Some have only had one kiss, others have had plenty, but out of all of them, you’re the only one who hasn’t had a single one yet. It’s not your fault—you’ve just never found yourself even a little bit attracted to anyone at school.

You didn’t even notice your appetite waning, your mind preoccupied with this. With graduation nearing, the last thing you wanted was to feel left out—missing out on bonding with your friends was the last thing you wanted.

“What’s so special about kissing?? It barely means anything.” his face twists into confusion and disgust, as if really trying to grasp why you’re making such a big deal out of this. Caleb silent mouths ‘kissing?’ before shifting his gaze back to you—just in time for you to throw a pillow straight at his face. But the pillow stops mid-air in front of his face, before dropping onto his lap as he leans back against the chair at your study desk.

“All of my friends have already had their first kiss. That’s like the only thing they’re talking about these days.” Your lips push up into a pout as you grab one of the stuffed animals nearest to you and hug it, allowing your head to rest on the plushie.

“And you’re jealous?” You choke on your saliva, coughing and hacking as your wide eyes meet his—one eyebrow raised and eyes heavy with disbelief. Caleb would’ve never guessed that his girl would grow up to be worried over something as minuscule as a kiss, especially a kiss with someone else.

“I’m not jealous! I mean like… It’s not like… Okay, maybe just a little?” your hands flail wildly all over as you try to defend yourself, but to no avail. Feeling a blush creeping onto your cheeks, you take a quick glance and see that Caleb's gaze has darkened.

“Do you even know how to kiss?”

“Caleb… That’s a stupid question,” you murmur, already knowing the answer. Caleb knew that too. “Why would I be so worked up if I—”

With his lilac eyes fixed on you, he tilts his head slightly, then leans forward. “Would you like to know how?” His words cut through your sentence, leaving your lips parted in shock as you prop yourself back up, still clutching the plushie to your chest.

“What? What do you mean?” your brain struggles to process his words, unable to fully make sense of them as you frown and watch him get up. Caleb's tall figure towers over yours as he steps closer, leaning casually against the wall, making you tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“I can teach you then, Pip-squeak.” His body lowers, closing the gap between you two as your grip on the plushie loosens. You try to back away, only to find your back pressing against the headboard just inches away.

“I… I mean… does this count as my first kiss?” His right hand reaches out, gently caressing your cheek before softly holding your chin, guiding it towards him.

“Hmm. Think of this as practice.” Caleb's grip on your chin is soft and gentle, completely opposite from his hazy, clouded gaze.

“Oh. Oh…kay then-” you draw the ‘o’ out but as soon as the confirmation leaves your mouth, his lips brush softly against yours. With your eyes closed shut and brows furrowed, he slowly moves, capturing your bottom lip between his own with a delicate pull.

Your body sinks further into the mattress, plush pillows pressing against your back. The bed groans under Caleb's weight as he closes the distance between you, one large palm placed on your hips while the other rests on the headboard. You kiss him back, or at least you try to. You move your lips in the same motion of waves as he does, but everything feels so awkward and off.

Feeling quite embarrassed, and out of air, your intended gently nudges on Caleb's tank top quickly turns into desperate grasps before the kiss finally breaks. You felt like you’ve just ran a marathon—body burning up and your lungs out of breath as you pant, trying to inhale as much oxygen as you could while avoiding eye contact. Though it was harder than you thought, because Caleb was now on top of you, his smirk haunting you as your cheeks flush.

“H-hey! Don’t look at me like that. I told you I don’t know how to kiss…” Your voice grows quieter each passing second as it somehow ends up as a tiny squeak. The sound of Caleb's laughter fills your ears as you turn back to him, his knee now finds itself between your legs as his face hovers just above yours.

“You’re overthinking this, Pip-squeak. Just follow what I do.” Though his words are reassuring, that husky tone in his voice throws you off as he quickly captures your lips into a kiss for the second time. Caleb's lips move against yours in a soft, sensual way as you try your best to mimic him. Remembering what he did to you, you trap the soft fullness of his lower lip and gently apply suction to it. His hums of approval catch you off guard as you feel a subtle rumble of his chest—Caleb's hand snaking down to the small of your back, before pulling your body flush against his.

As if a flip has just been switched, Caleb's lips move frantically against yours, biting your lower lips then soothing the sting with his tongue. Your lips part at the sudden pain, allowing his tongue to delve into your mouth. Soft whimpers escape from your throat as Caleb explores you, tracing every corner and leaving an odd-yet-pleasurable feeling as he does so. Surprised, and a little scared, you push his body off of yours as you cover your mouth in shock, the faint apple taste still lingering in your mouth.

“Your tongue… Do you still use that apple flavored toothpaste or something? Because that’s all I’m feeling? Tasting?” Caleb grabs your hands, lowering it as a light chuckle leaves his lips.

“You’re a natural, Pip-squeak.” Completely ignoring what you just said as his thumb caresses your cheek and he stares at your lips, as if capturing them in a kiss with his eyes, “But I think you need a little bit more practice. What do you say?”

“Oh….Um…” Your voice comes out as uncertain mumbles and murmurs while his face only inches closer to yours. That’s when you realize how Caleb's body is pressed against yours, radiating heat—how heat crept up his neck and spreaded to his ears. How his lilac eyes were still clouded with a hazy and clouded look.

“I think you need more practice.” Caleb already had a taste of you and now he can’t get enough. Your scent seeps into his senses, impossible to ignore—like an addict chasing his next fix. He took your first kiss and now he’s going to take your every first. He was going to make sure of it.

A/N: Ughhh, this was quite hard to write considering I’ve never kissed anyone before. BUT. I have read many writings about kissing so I hope that’ll make up for this. Stay delusional ya’lls! (*´∀`*) Dividers by @omi-resources

#caleb x reader #caleb x you #caleb x mc #caleb fluff #lads x you #love and deepspace #lads x reader #love and deepspace x you #lads fluff #l&ds #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb #lnds caleb #caleb love and deepspace #caleb lads #lnd caleb

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always1star · 2 days ago

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the time we were together

toxic!sukuna x fem!reader (although can be read as gn?)

tags: angst, college au, cursing, arguments, use of y/n, alludes to sex (but nothing explicit, i dont write smut), cheating, yearning, closure, happiest ending i could make tbh, no part 2 im sorry

a/n: i didn't mean to write this but for some reason it just happened so enjoy my first fic lol. also this is NOT PROOFREAD

WC: 2.7k

You and Sukuna have been going out for some time now, maybe about five months. You met him at some random frat party. You had just been broken up with by your boyfriend of two years, and so you went to a party and took anything and everything anyone gave you. You were feeling super sick and all you really wanted was solace. After a while of sulking in the corner of this random disgusting frat house, you decided it was time to go home, as at this point you were high and drunk completely out of your mind. You gathered your things and attempted to stumble your way to some kind of exit. On your way out, you accidentally ran into this huge hunk of a man with bold tattoos. You started sobbing when he caught you, tears staining and fists clenching his shirt. He was absolutely bewildered and as people had begun to stare, he grudgingly took you home. After that night, you kept running into this random man you sobbed to on campus, and the rest was history.

Although you and Sukuna have been going relatively steady for a while, you had hit a point in your relationship in which all you did was argue. And it is generally understood that after the honeymoon stage everyone often disputes with their partners, but Sukuna was terribly vicious. He often brought up how insecure you were, how it was your fault you were raised the way you were, how easily he could replace you. To say the least, Sukuna was an ass. He damaged your core like no one else could and it desperately hurt you to be with him. Still, you stayed by his side because you loved him, and hoped he felt the same way. You hoped because he would hold you as you cried, kissing away your tears, and whispering how sorry he was. You always forgave him, even if he did it time and time again.

During the first stages of your relationship, Sukuna welcomed your presence. You two hung out often, and although not ordinary dates (he often took you to race on his motorcycle or would take you to sketchy parties), you had fun and were happy because he was there with you. Sukuna never was really into speaking reassuring or affirming words, but instead showed his affection with his actions. His hands would always be roaming your body, and you liked feeling the warmth of another person. He did things without you asking, like buying something you mentioned you liked or holding you even when you swore you were ok. While you smiled brightly and thanked him, he would just grumble “it’s whatever.” You would always laugh and giggle with him, and even though he never really laughed back himself, he entertained it. Sometimes you would catch him staring, and there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite name. There was no doubt that he held a sentiment of adoration for you, maybe he even loved you. But now? His eyes only seemed to hold disappointment, anger, and annoyance.

You had known from the second you met him that it would not be easy to be with him. He’s got a difficult, harsh, and cruel demeanor. You had hoped that maybe he wasn’t really like that, and that maybe he just had this bad-boy delinquent front to cover his vulnerabilities. Well, you were right, to say the least. But is the Ryomen Sukuna really going to be vulnerable around you, some random girl he met a few months ago that he just likes to use as a bed warmer? Hell no. You meant absolutely nothing to him and he couldn’t seem to get that message through your head. All this time, you thought that maybe he was just being difficult but that didn’t change the fact that he still maybe held a passion for you.

One night, a particularly bad argument came up. It started as something that was completely meaningless. Him coming home a little late, you telling him you were too busy to cook dinner and that tonight you guys should just go get takeout, him mumbling that he was too tired to go out and that it’s nothing you can’t do on your own because you were a big girl and could handle these things. You apologized but said you, too, were too tired, and therefore did not want to cook. Sukuna’s temper just kind of blew up. “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t even do this one little thing? You aren’t fucking helpless, Y/N. I’ve spent all day studying and working for you, and how dare you still expect more shit from me? Haven’t I given you fucking enough?” He threw his hands up in irritance, shouting at you, the previous exhaustion in his voice seemingly gone. “I’m sorry, I was just busy tod-” you tried to reason, but he quickly interrupted. “Busy? You were fucking busy? How the hell do you think I feel, huh?” He was walking towards you, and you were being backed into the kitchen counter. “Are you useless? No! You can’t even do small shit like this. How unloveable can you possibly be?” He continued to ramble and yell into your face, but you stopped listening. You rapidly tried to blink your tears away and to calm your shaky hands. Did he really just say that? You’re unloveable?

Eventually, Sukuna left the apartment with nothing but his coat and his car keys, mumbling something about how this is fucking unbelieveable under his breath as he slammed the front door shut. Your ears were ringing due to the newfound silence, the only thing being heard was your staggered breathing.

A couple of days later, Sukuna still had not returned to your apartment. You assumed he had gone back to his. Neither of you had spoken a word to each other in two days, and you were becoming restless. You had to apologize to him, whether you were at fault or not. You texted him you were on your way as you started your car. You noted that as you were on your way, he never replied to your message. You approached his front door and rummaged through your purse to find the spare key to his apartment. As you unlocked the door, you took a deep breath in and recited your apology in your head.

When you opened the door, the apartment was relatively cleaner than it usually was, save for the clothes littering the floor. Your brows furrowed as you noted a pink camisole and bra on the floor. Those definitely weren’t yours. Your heart was rapidly thumping, the sound filling your ears. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, and stormed off to find Sukuna.

You burst through his bedroom door to see a naked Sukuna and some girl you’ve never seen before. You watched as her eyes widened and as she scrambled to find some way to cover herself. She ran out the door past you. You were still standing in the doorway, frozen in shock. You held your mouth slightly agape, unsure of what to say or do next. Unperturbed, Sukuna sighed as got up from the bed to find his shorts somewhere on the floor. He ran his hand through his sweaty, almost drenched hair. Wasn’t he being way too casual about this? You found the strength in yourself to speak up. “How could you do this to me?” you weakly spoke, sounding as fragile as your now shattered heart. Sukuna put on his shorts and looked at you without shame, an agitated look painting his face. “I don’t owe you an explanation.” He continued to find his shirt. “What? We’re dating Sukuna. You can’t just-” you stammered, and he stopped you right there. “I’m not your boyfriend and you’re not my girlfriend,” he articulated every word like it was the most obvious thing ever. Your heart dropped. “And clearly, you didn’t think that. I liked what we had, Y/N. But if you’re going to be all possessive like this, then we should end things.” What was he saying? “What? Suku-” He deeply sighed and his voice began to rise. “Get out! Don’t make me say it again.”

Ryomen Sukuna had broken your heart. Really, he stole it from your chest and smiled at you as he crushed it in his hands. The next week after the “break up” for you was absolutely terrible. You skipped all of your classes, meals, and sleep. You just wallowed in bed, wondering what could possibly make you so unloveable. To think that he never really loved you – wait, did he really never love you at all? You recalled that you never said I love you. Those three words held a heavy weight, but you were thinking about how you didn’t need to say it to prove your devotion to him. It kinda made sense now. You should have never assumed your place in a man’s heart who didn’t have room for anyone, let alone you.

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

Five months later…

Sukuna found it nice to be freely sleeping around again, finding himself at parties, clubs, bars, always having a girl on his side. Sukuna always woke up next to a new girl every morning (girls he never remembers the names of), quickly kicking her out so he didn’t have to deal with whatever she thought was between them. He would go on late night rides with his friends (that you never really liked) and would come home to drink a cold beer wearing only his boxers. Life was good to him.

But as Sukuna came home one night after a thrilling night out, he thought it just wasn’t as fun as it used to be. He plopped down on the couch and cracked open a beer and turned on his TV. Still, he felt something was missing. Maybe he missed the thrill of making it home and spewing lies to the girl in his bed. Maybe he missed the heated arguments and sorry's just to repeat the cycle. . Maybe he missed coming home to a home-cooked meal. Maybe he missed the warmth of another person. Maybe he missed hearing a certain voice. Maybe he missed waking up to a familiar face. Maybe, he missed you. Wait, what? That’s not true. He shook the thought away, thinking that he just missed having authority over someone.

He was obviously lying to himself. Sukuna wondered what could fill this odd feeling in his heart. It was evident that the sex, drugs, and alcohol was no longer doing its part for him. He stopped going out and now spent his time in silence and solitude. He began to think about you, and he wondered what you were doing. He wondered how you would react if you saw him again. He wondered what you did after you lost contact with him. He wondered what you looked like now, if you were just as beautiful.

He needed to find you, whether it was for the closure for his flaming conscience or that needed to know if you still felt the same in his arms, he didn’t know. What was he feeling bad for now? Sukuna was never one to have genuine apologies or have feelings of guilt in shame. What was it about you that made him feel this way? Sukuna wanted – no, needed to put a label on this aching feeling, and then throw it out.

It was a new semester, and Sukuna hadn’t seen you around campus. He realized that he still really wanted to see you, but he knew you wouldn’t react well. He didn’t care too much though, he just wanted to fix whatever was wrong with him.

One day, Sukuna saw you on campus in the courtyard that was in front of one of your major’s buildings. You looked the happiest he had ever seen you. A smile was plastered on your face as you laughed with some friends. The same smile that he struck off your face. Sukuna used to think he liked your crying face more than anything, he thought your stupid smile was childish, but now he thought you looked so beautiful smiling. He silently watched you, something holding him back from approaching you.

Sukuna often spotted you in front of your building, and he longed to talk to you again. If he was watching you so often, of course you were going to see him too. One day, you spotted him. He tried to play it off by clearing his throat and looking away, but when he looked at you again, you smiled. You… smiled? Even after all the humiliation and suffering he put you through, you smiled at him. You seemed to wave off to your friends and began to speed walk to him. He panicked a little.

“It’s nice to see you again! I hope you’re doing well,” you greeted and waved to him. It hurt him to see that you were still kind and genuine even after all that he did to you. “Hi, um… it’s nice to see you too… How are you doing?” he awkwardly replied. Sukuna was always one to hold pride and confidence, but upon seeing you he seemed to lose all of it. “I’m really good! This semester is kind of kicking my ass but I’m still trying to stay positive, haha,” you beamed. He nodded once as a reply and a silence enveloped the both of you. He stared at you, and you really did look happy. He sighed and spoke up, “Y/N, I never really got the chance to say sorry. I know that I have done so much wrong to you, but please, can you forgive me? I feel like what I did to you is burning a hole through my heart, and I just can’t bear to think that I could do that to someone as pure as you,” Sukuna began to beg. It was odd to see a guy who never bent down to anyone, who put himself on a pedestal ranging miles higher than anyone else, beg.

You thought for a second, taking in the unfamiliar sorrow gracing his strong features. You eventually spoke, “Sukuna, I loved you, did you know that?” His eyes slightly widened and he nodded slowly. You continued, “The whole time I was with you, I wasn’t sure if you loved me too. It hurts to be around you.” He nodded again, breaking eye contact to stare at his shoes. “I can’t quite forgive you for what you did to me, but I want you to know that if you find your happiness, then I will always be cheering you on for it. Don’t mess up next time.” Although your words held the heaviness of your feelings, you still smiled at him. Sukuna felt a throbbing in his chest. God, what did he do to you? What had he done? He desperately wanted to say, “my happiness is with you” but he felt that he didn’t have the right to. Sukuna felt tears in his eyes, all an unfamiliar feeling to him. He nodded once again to you, whispering a thank you. Not because you were offering your understanding, but because he wanted to thank you for being there for him, even when he couldn’t be there for you. Sukuna went off apologizing once again, clenching his fists to resist reaching out and hugging you. And, as if you read his mind, you quickly pulled him into your embrace. The two of you held each other, tearing brimming your eyes. The feeling of closure the two of you longed for was gained, and for a second all the resentment and pain was let go of, all that was left was love and understanding for each other.

Sukuna watched you from afar sometimes. He had been hearing around that you were in a relationship… good for you. He hoped that whoever that weird tall white guy haired guy you were dating was, was treating you with all the love and respect that you deserve, all the love and respect that he couldn’t give you. And as he watched you laugh with some guy that wasn’t him, smiling ear to ear, he realized that happiness looked so good on you. To pay his repentance and to pay his final act of love to you, he gave a small somber smile at your radiating face for the last time, and turned around and walked away, now truly realizing the weight of his mistakes.

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk fanfic #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #sukuna angst #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #jjk sukuna

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jscrawls · 2 days ago

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Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, brief mentions of violence, poor writing, possible ooc,

Part 10: rough patch

🔹🔹🔹

Breakfast is peaceful enough, you changed rooms last night and got a decent by your standards sleep. Damian's half asleep in his cereal and dukes speedily trying to finish a test between bites of his egg sandwich. It's weirdly domestic to you as Bruce gives you a cup of coffee and your medication and then takes a seat by you. Once again you feel out of place, like you've stolen something from someone else. but you don't show it. Weakness is not tolerable.

Unfortunately, peace never lasts.

“heyyy look who's alive and kicking around the place again!” To your absolute horror, you're dragged out of your chair and hugged tightly from behind by some loud mouthed-

“Dick we've talked about this…let em go chum.” Bruce quickly stands and tries to separate you from the hug, thank God, you could almost kiss the man when you're released. Suppressing a shiver at the unprompted affection, disgusting.

Duke Snickers into his food while Damian tries to cover up a snort by clearing his throat and shoving a bite of cereal in his mouth, traitorous children. You suppress a scowl as you turn to face your attacker - your hugger.

“come on I'm just happy they're still kicking and recovering, how're you doing operater?” Dick sets his hands on your shoulders as he speaks, he's far too touchy for your taste, but his words catch your attention more than his body language.

“operater?”

The room goes quiet for a moment, dicks hands tensing just a touch before he smiles and pulls you in once again. “It's a nickname you had, cuz y'know, you helped operate Wayne charity foundations like you were running the Navy. It's a lil inside joke.”

This time you're the one wriggling out of the hug, what part of ‘you're a stranger to the amnesiac’ does he not get? “You're telling me i was running those events? Why would i do that and not just hire a planner.” You sit back down in the chair, hopefully it'll discourage anymore cuddle attacks.

“I've actually said the same exact thing to you, guess you liked being the boss?” Bruce snorts beside you as dick speaks, Dick tosses himself into a nearby chair and starts making grabby hands at Damian's cereal.

“I'm going to pretend that didn't just come out of your mouth, right in front of my coffee. thanks.”

You grab the hot coffee and down a few sips before popping your medicine, that sounded a little too much like an innuendo to not royally piss you off. This entire…. Thing is gonna test your patience like never before, you swear.

🔹🔹🔹

Bruce went to his office and Mr pennyworth left to drop the two boys off so you're alone in the manor, having shaken Dick off enough times until he himself had to leave back to whatever it is he does, you bet he's a cop or a gym teacher or something.

With free reign, you start snooping. First thing you note is how clean the place is as you wander from the kitchenette towards the event hall, props to the old man where it's due, The place is relatively spotless from floor to ceiling.The second thing you notice is all the damn hidden cameras.

your hand drags across piano keys in the otherwise silent hall, it's dust free and even tuned, for some reason the perfection of the place angers you just as much as the lack of privacy. Makes you think the Wayne's are too…superficial, the avengers tower wasn't even this perfect. There's a tiny blinking red dot in the eye of the gargoyle sculpture nestled in the corner of the room, letting you know that the mask can't slip even when you're alone. someone's watching. you close the fall board and wander to the next area.

The bedrooms aren't that interesting, the unoccupied ones all look the same, smell the same, beige walls and dark bedding. The occupied ones look like stereotypical teen boy rooms, messy bedspreads and posters on the walls. video game consoles, paint supplies, old films, at least these rooms look lived in, imperfect. The next bedroom makes you freeze in your tracks, the familiar vanity and ballet flats makes unease churn in your gut, how'd you see the exact setup in your…. You close the door quickly. The dreams are meaningless and you won't ponder on them for longer than necessary. You take mental note of the large computer set up in one of the other rooms and move on to a different area.

You're back in the library now, your legs are starting to ache from all the walking you've done, you'll have to work on your agility and stamina in this body for sure. Plopping down on a leather sofa you grab at one of the books on the table in front of you and flip it over to read the title, realizing this is the book Jason was flipping through yesterday when the bookmark slips out of it, guess he's a fan of Mary Shelley. The grandfather clock against the wall chimes loudly and you scowl at it before hauling yourself up and slowly leaving the dusty room, you could use a nap right about now.

🔹🔹🔹

It's late when you're woken up, the butler knocks loudly on your door until you answer him.

“Master Wayne? You missed dinner. Would you like me to bring it up to you?”

You grunt as you rub at your face, before remembering that that doesn't count as an answer.

“No, I'll come down myself…. Will anyone else be there?” the silent ‘is my husband waiting?’ goes unsaid, but not unheard.

The butler doesn't answer for a moment, the creaking of floorboards telling you he's shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“…no, the children are at friends houses tonight, Cass is at her dance practice and master Bruce is dealing with an emergency at work. It is just us two tonight.”

“Oh, alright. I hope it's not a serious emergency…is everything good at work?” you act concerned, curiosity bleeding into your voice as you untangle yourself from the sheets and go to open the door.

“Nothing of the sort, there is just an issue with an incorrect filing mishap and mismatched records. Nothing worth worrying about.” Alfred steps out of the way when you open the door and turns to lead you to the kitchenette.

You know for a damn fact that Bruce's position in the company doesn't have him dealing with paperwork issues, your best guess is an affair partner that pennyworth is covering up. Of course the rich guy is cheating on his spouse, at least you don't have to entertain conversations with him over dinner…. Though it would have been nice to have a buffer between you and the butler. He definitely doesn't trust you as much as your husband seems to.

🔹🔹🔹

“anything new you can tell me about the phone.” barbara turned towards bruce when she heard him speak,the glow of her monitors casting her in a greenish glow as she turned her wheelchair.

“well, i don’t have access to their files or their systems anymore. just their location when it pings off cell towers.” barb leaned back and picked up her bag of chips while speaking, eyeing bruce up while he paces her floor, his cape swishing quietly behind him. “the decoding technique you saw before the shut out?” bruce doesn’t look at her as he speaks, his gaze focused on the stained glass above their heads.

barb loudly crunches on a chip as she turns her chair back towards the monitors, wiping her hands clean before she pushes her glasses up her nose. “strange, for them i mean. they didn’t go through the standard coding channels or even the normal hardware wiping techniques, i’ve been doing some research on the dark and back channels and i still haven’t seen anything quite like it.” she offers him a chip.

bruce walks closer to her and wordlessly takes the offered snack, glancing down at barb as he digests that information.

“so…they’re not associated with any known hackers?” barb gives him a sharp look. “B, are you thinking your spouse is a plant?” he shakes his head slowly, glancing away from barb before he continues. “no, no not at all. i just….can’t ignore something strange in my home, even if it’s *them.”*

barb looks down at her lap with a pensive look on her face for a moment, glancing back up at him with thinned lips as she bites her inner lip.

“i’m still scrubbing through the dark, you’ll be the first to know if i find anything that sets off alarms.”

bruce nods once, turning with a dramatic flair of his cape as he turns to leave.

“B.” barbara called out to him before he disappears, turning her wheelchair around to face him again as he pauses midstep. “just don’t get too caught up in your theories yet, they’re still the same person that walked into that gala with you.” bruce resumes walking after barb speaks, disapearing into the darkest part of the clocktowers room.

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: ruh roh readers jumping to conclusions about Bruce's late night disappearances. Wonder how that'll go 👀👀👀

Taglist: @cxcilla @mercuryathens @dind1n @redsakura101 @ninihrtss @let-me-dance @ladykamos @one-piecelover @cuntiesweet

#dc x y/n #dc x reader #batman x reader #batfamily x reader #batman fanfiction #bruce wayne x reader #black widow reader

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atleastpleasetelephone · 17 hours ago

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Elvis who absolutely just loves eating readers pussy and fingering her and can't get enough and whines everytime he can't have it. Sorry if this isn't good it's my first request lol

A/N: I got another similar request so I've grouped these together. I thought 1950s E was best for this one.

Picture You

Pairing: 1950s!E x reader

Word count: 840

TWs: Public sex, Elvis is pussy-eating-obsessed, kind of exhibitionism, dirty photos, smut.

“Whaddya mean, no?” Elvis is looking at you with big, puppy dog eyes and his voice is particularly whiny.

“The opposite of yes, El.”

“But why?”

“Because we’re going out with my friends in five minutes, and I know you’re good, but you’re not that good.”

Elvis humphs. “‘S’not fair, honey.”

“It is too. You ate me out last night and this morning.”

“But y’look so pretty in this dress…” he weedles, fingering the fabric.

“You just wait until tonight,” you try to tell him, but suddenly he’s on his knees and pushing his head under your skirt. “ELVIS!” You squeal, backing away while his fingers do their best to get into your panties.

“Honey…” he pleads, following you on his knees, head still under your skirt.

You’re in the process of pushing his head away from your thighs when you both hear Gladys shouting up the stairs. Your friends have arrived.

***

You spend the day around Beale Street, drinking ice cream floats and listening to the live music in the bars there, since you turned 21 last week so now you’re allowed in. Elvis loves every minute of it, and insists that you come back after dinner to see when things really get wild. You nod and giggle, cuddling up to him in a corner for a while. Some time in the late afternoon the pair of you come across a photobooth. None of your other friends are interested, saying they’ll meet you back at A Schwab for more floats, so you get in together, laughing and giggling. As you fiddle with the settings, trying to make sure your chair is in the right place, Elvis has an idea. He gets down on his knees between your legs, pushing his head under your skirt again. You squeak.

“Elvis!” Your heart is beating quickly and you’re flushed. It might be a booth but it’s still kind of public. The curtain doesn’t quite touch the floor, for a start.

“Let me, honey. Wanna photo of that lovely face ya make when ya cum for me.”

You squeak again. “Elvis! People might see!”

“Cum quickly then.”

He pulls your panties to the side and starts to lick your clit furiously, feeling it harden under his tongue. You moan softly, looking down at the bulge his head has created under your skirt. The boy has a problem. You were the first girl he’d ever licked, down there, and it had gone from something that disgusted him to a full-on addiction in a matter of days. He wanted your pussy all the time, to lick and finger until he made you scream. You’d had sex once or twice, but this was his preferred method of getting you off, and it seemed to make him crazy too. More than once he’d cum in his pants, or against the mattress as he lay on the bed with his head between your legs. You kept trying to tell him to wear underpants so he’d stop ruining his slacks, but he wouldn’t listen.

His long middle finger slips inside you and curls to hit the perfect spot. You let out a shuddering moan and hit the button to take the photos. Sucking on your clit now, he slips another finger inside and pumps them quickly, knowing what will get you there. The camera flashes once, twice, and then you feel the tide of your orgasm wash over you and murmur his name. Two more flashes and he licks you through it, kitten licks to your sensitive clit that almost make you yelp.

“Come on!” Someone yells from outside. You freeze. There hadn’t been anyone else around when you’d come in, but now there must be a line.

You sit up and mumble something to Elvis about getting out, and he emerges from your skirt, hair ruffled and lips glossy with your arousal. He grins, sheepishly.

“Can’t wait to see the photos, baby,” he murmurs, as you try to get him to stand up so you can both leave. “Think I might haveta go home now though.”

Tugging on his wrist, you turn back to look at his face questioning. ‘Why, El?”

He giggles, pressing his lips to your ear as he follows you out of the photobooth.

“Made a mess in my pants.”

You blush as you pull him behind you, waiting outside for the photos to come out as the girls waiting tut and look at you like they know exactly what you’ve been getting up to in there.

“El! What did I tell you about wearing underpants?” You whisper, shame making your face even redder.

He wraps his arms around your waist, hiding his crotch from view. “Sorry, honey.”

“Won’t let you have it any more if you don’t wear some,” you tell him, as the photos drop into the slot.

He whines into your neck. “But honey, I need it.”

“Then get your mama to buy you some underpants,” you chide, picking the photos up and pushing them into your purse. “No underpants, no pussy.”

***

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#elvis #elvis presley #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis smut #elvis fanfic #elvis presely smut #elvis presley fanfic #elvis imagine #elvis x reader #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley x you

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m00nchildwrites · 1 day ago

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Rafayel if you got a kitten- headcanon

If you got a cat, 100% Rafayel would act absolutely betrayed at first. However, after the cat Butler event, we know that he is capable of being around them, getting along with them, and even in his own way, liking them. Although he would absolutely die before he ever admitted that.

So I have a headcanon. If you were to get a cat at first, he would say that it was a betrayal - that you were choosing cats over fishies. He would be super dramatic about it, an absolute pouty baby. When you ask him if he can watch the kitten while you are on missions lasting more than 1 day, at first he acts as though you're taking advantage of him and his soft spot for you and inviting in a dangerous monster into his home without any care for his safety or Reddie's safety. When you say never mind, you'll ask someone else. He scoffs and says, of course, he'll watch the little beastie ( the nickname he's taken to calling it). He is your boyfriend, after all. You can rely on him, but tells you which flowers to lay on his grave and what song to play at his funeral. And that you owe him extra cuddles for the trauma.

But after the first week, you catch the cat sniffing his fingers, and this time, instead of pulling away in revulsion, he freezes cautiously, and let's it happen.

You lean against the wall, a small smile playing at your lips, "Caught you in 3D, Raffie."

He jolts as though caught doing something scandalous, which to him, you guess he had.

"What! No! Now hold on, cutie," he stands brushing himself off, "Let's not get any wild ideas. I was merely testing Beastie to see if he'd take a bite if tempted."

You sigh shaking your head before going to press a kiss to your silly boyfriend's cheek, "Raf, I am not naming my kitten Beastie."

He leans into your kiss before pouting as you pull away to lean down and give your kitten pets hello. Rafayel crosses his arms, "I don't see why not. It fits the little beast."

"Raf."

The next week, you witnessed the same thing unfold, but this time hesitantly, slowly, cautiously as if approaching a wild beast that might snap at any moment, his long slender fingers extend and carefully, gently, just barely graze the top of the cat's head. Barely enough to be considered a pet, but the cat closes its eyes and purrs happily either way. Rafayel freezes, and then let's add a little snort and moves away as if offended or disgusted, but you know, it's just a front. You caught the tiniest of smiles on your boyfriend's lovely face before he remembered himself and went back to his act.

Then, as though suddenly overnight, you come to pick up your kitten, only to find it purring happily at Rafayel's feet as he stands or walks about his studio. Or you find it sitting on a ladder that he pulled up next to his as he paints on a large canvas, purring as it watches his brush move across the canvas. You catch him talking to it, asking it advice on colors, and then scalding its reply in an imaginary conversation. Your beloved boyfriend gesturing animatedly, flinging flecks of paint from his brush as he does, as your kitten sits next to him and slow blinks. Rafayel freezes, arms midair, and stares a strange mix of scandalized and touched all over his face. He drops his arms and stares back at the cat and then slowly, blinks back. When the kitten then let's out a happy chirrup before noticing you and running over, Rafayel runs over to you too eyes lit up.

"Do you realize what just happened, cutie?" He asks as he picks you up slightly and spins you in a hug in greeting. "I read in a book that slow blinking is a cats way to say they love you. I'm a real hero for fishies everywhere, cutie. I've gotten a cat on our side. He is practically a cat-fish now, yeah? Our little beastie loves me, cutie."

You giggle, arms wrapping around his neck as his excitement fills your with warm, "But I thought all cats were evil monsters? Are you sure the fishies will think you are a hero and not a traitor?" You tease.

He scoffs and sets you down, "I'm the God of the Sea. If I say Beastie is okay then he is okay."

The following week you finally had a few days off. Packing up your things you and Beastie (yes the name stuck) headed over to Whitesands Bay for a few days spent with Rafayel. Upon arriving, you grabbed the few boxes that had been delivered and dropped at the door and headed inside with Beastie walking obediently on his harnessed behind you. Rafayel had been especially proud of harness training you're a little kitten. After all, he needed a way to safely let him have walks on the beach without risking his safety.

Upon entering, you were swept into a hug by your excited boyfriend, who showered your cheeks and face with kisses, "Finally, cutie! I thought I was gonna dry up like a starfish left out in the sun before you got here."

You give him a loving kiss on his lips with a giggle, "Silly Fishie, I told you I had to finish laundry first. But we are here! Oh, these were on your steps." You hand him the small packages.

Rafayel's eyes light up, " Oh, excellent, they came in just in time. Grab Beastie and come in here," he leads you both to his couch. "I got these custom made!" Opening the smallest package, he takes out a small blue collar. It was lovely. The material looked like repurposed kimono silk, and the little golden tag dangling from it was shaped like Reddie. On the tag read, Beastie, in a beautiful font.

"Oh Raf! It's so cute!"

"Of course it is, I designed it," he preens under your praise.

Beastie seemed to enjoy his new collar very much, as well as his scallop shaped pillow bed that had been in the other package.

"Just wait until the rest arrives!" Rafayel grins.

The following day, you and Rafayel and Beastie were in the front yard of his studio home letting Beastie play in the grass when a delivery guy arrived. You watched in dumbfounded amazement at the sheer number of packages and boxes he was struggling to unload. You could hear his grumbling from the flowerbed where your picnic blanket was laid out.

Rafayel stood to help the poor soul who was fighting with the Gate and now walking up the path to the door. He failed to see the pair of you apparently, because when Beastie ran up to him and meowed a greeting, the delivery guy kicked out his foot pushing him away with a snarl, "Get back you pest!"

Rafayel was there in a second, eyes blazing and dangerously sharp as he scooped up Beastie, cradling him to his chest protectively, "Don't talk to my fur son that way."

As the delivery guy bowed and rained apologies, you don't think you've ever been more in love with Rafayel than at this moment.

"Fur son, huh?" You grin as the three of you snuggle into the couch a mid an array of opened packages, cat trees and treat and toys.

He huffs, head resting in your lap, Beastie asleep on his chest, your hand in Rafayel's hair and his hand scratching gentling behind the purring sleeping kittens ear, "Obviously. We are a family, cutie. Might as well get used to that."

You smiled, butterflies let loose in your stomach, "I think I can get used to that."

#lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel fluff #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x mc #rafayel headcanons #This started out as a small idea and snowballed.

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scary-grace · 6 hours ago

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#3 for roommates to lovers!! :D

Hi! Thank you so much for this prompt! As I alluded to, I went through two other versions of this fic before settling on this one, so if this ends up not being your speed, that's okay -- let me know and I'll post one of the others.

Prompt: “i’m guessing that the fact you’re already home will tell me everything i need to know about how your date went.” No quirks AU, female reader, Shigaraki and the reader are roommates, approximately 3k. ANGST. But with a happy ending.

CASUAL

You hear the key in the lock on the front door and try to scramble up off the couch, at which point the four shots of vodka you’ve taken announce their presence. The first thing to go is your balance, and you bump into the coffee table before tipping backwards onto the couch again. The next is your dignity, when you realize that your roommate and his Valentine’s Day date are about to walk in and see you, on the couch in your pajamas and totally trashed. The third is your control over your emotions. Your face heats up and your throat goes tight and your eyes start to sting, and that’s all before Tomura even opens the door.

Tomura snagged himself a date for Valentine’s Day. A really hot date, Spinner took pains to tell you, like it was something for you to be excited about. Some cosplayer whose DMs he slid into, who dresses up as the slutty version of all his favorite video game characters, who flirts with guys and girls alike but never seems to settle down. Tomura’s friends are all amazed that he was able to pull it off, but you aren’t. You’ve been roommates with Tomura long enough to know that there’s more to him than meets the eye.

And you know he’s got some degree of game. You’d have to, since it worked pretty well on you.

Or maybe your game, as weird and offbeat as it is, worked pretty well on him. However it happened, you’ve been fucking him for the last six months. It started as hooking up to blow off steam, because neither of you had been on a date in forever and you were both too lazy or bad at dating apps to find a booty call. Just a roommates-with-benefits thing. A little recreation. Casual.

You’re not sure where it went off the rails, but over the past six months, you’ve slid from not hanging out except when you’re fucking to hanging out all the time, from bitching about your friends and their love lives to trading loaded glances when it comes up, from texting each other hey you up from your rooms to sleeping in the same bed. It started out as casual, but it’s not casual anymore. At least not to you. You were trying to think of how to raise the subject with Tomura, and thinking maybe of doing it tonight, until he announced out of nowhere that he’s got this date.

You didn’t find out until a couple days ago, and since then you’ve been seething, or at least you tell yourself that the throbbing ache in your chest is seething instead of heartbreak. You’ve played it cool around Tomura, razzing him over the restaurant he picked, offering to let him borrow your hair products if he wants to do something special with it – except then he took you up on it, the bastard, and he left for his date smelling like your leave-in conditioner. Part of you is pleased by that, by the thought that his date might catch the scent and wonder if she really is the only one he’s into. The rest of you thinks about her getting close enough to smell his hair and decides to throw up about it.

You lock your jaw and swallow hard. As terrible as this is going to be, the only thing worse than them walking in on you in the midst of a single-woman cringefest is if they walk in on you throwing up. What’s taking them so long to walk in on you, anyway? Tomura’s still trying to unlock the fucking door. You picture his date pressed back against the door, the two of them unwilling to stop kissing long enough to get into the apartment, and a surge of disgust and anger and hurt hits you harder than the vodka did. Fuck this. You’ve had enough.

This time you’re more careful as you get off the couch, and you’re steady enough on your feet as you cross the room to the front door. Deadbolt off, latch turned, two seconds to brace yourself, and you wrench open the door. You’re expecting the two of them to fall over onto you, so wrapped up in each other that they barely notice the shift from vertical to horizontal. But you don’t see any cosplayer in the hallway, or smell anyone’s perfume. The only person there is Tomura, still dressed for his date, trying to unlock the door with the wrong key.

The two of you look at each other for a moment. You can’t speak for him, but your mind’s gone totally blank. Except for one thing. “That’s the laundry-room key. Not the apartment key.”

Tomura keeps staring at you for another few seconds, then looks down at the key like he’s never seen it before. “They look the same.”

“Yeah. And you’ve lived her for two years. When are you going to suck it up and label them?” Your frustration is starting to spill over, and it gets worse with every second Tomura spends looking at you. Why is he looking at you like that? Like he’s hurt – like you’re being mean to him for no reason, when you’re not even being that mean. You could be meaner. He’s the one who went out and got a hot date without even telling you, when – “Wait, what time is it?”

Tomura glances at his watch, then holds it out to show you. Seven-thirty. Huh. “You’re back early.”

“Yeah.” Tomura takes off his watch and drops it into his coat pocket. “Are you going to let me in or what?”

You stand aside, the wheels turning in your head with painful slowness. Tomura’s date was supposed to start at six. He’s back at seven-thirty. He’s back alone. That’s not what happens with a Valentine’s Day date where things go according to plan, and everything about the way Tomura’s acting right now says that things went off the rails. The last three days, you’ve been proceeding under the assumption that Tomura’s Valentine’s Day would be fuck-on-the-first-date good. It never crossed your mind that it might go badly.

“Are you going to close the door or just stand there like that all night?” Tomura sounds tired, but there’s an edge to his voice. “I guess I don’t have to ask what you’ve been doing. You can’t hold your liquor for shit.”

“And I guess since you’re back already, I don’t have to ask about how your date went,” you return fire without thinking. You shut the door, maybe harder than you meant to, and turn to face Tomura with your arms crossed over your chest, doing everything in your power not to cry. “Want to tell me about it?”

“Do you care?” Tomura picks up the vodka bottle, uncaps it, and takes a long sip. “I don’t think you give a shit.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t,” you snap on autopilot, but the longer you think about it, the more confused you get. “What have I ever done to make you think I don’t care about you?”

Tomura doesn’t answer. He’s too busy drinking half your vodka in a single swallow, unnerving you even more. “Hey. Stop. Whatever happened on your date, it’s not worth a hangover. I’ll help you, but –”

“Don’t worry about that. You’re off the hook.”

“What?” You’ve always helped Tomura with hangovers, way before you started sleeping together. His body reacts to alcohol like it’s actual poison, and there’s no point since you met him that you’ve ignored him when he needs help. “I’m not on the hook, Tomura. I do that stuff because I want to.”

“So stop wanting to,” Tomura says, but at least he puts the bottle down. “It shouldn’t be that hard for you. You’re good at not doing things you don’t want.”

“What are you talking about?” You can’t wrap your head around it. Tomura’s pissed at you. He’s the one who went on the date. Even if it didn’t go well, he still went on the date, so where does he get off being mad at you? “If you’re going to do this, say what you mean. It’ll be a lot faster, and after what you put me through –”

“What I put you through?” Tomura’s laughter goes jagged. “What do you tell your friends about me?”

“Nothing –”

“Right. Because it’s casual,” Tomura sneers. You’d believe it a lot more if you didn’t see his shoulders go tense, see the tendons in his neck stand out, hear the catch in his breathing. “Because I’m just some loser who’s still hanging around.”

“Because I don’t want to hear them tell me it’s a bad idea!” Your voice pitches upwards, fraying at the edges in a way you hate. “I don’t want to let them take something that makes me happy and ruin it. But maybe I should have, because I hate that I let this drag on so long, and if they’d told me it was a bad idea and I’d listened, then I wouldn’t be –”

“If it’s such a bad idea, then –”

All at once you’re fed up with this. Tired of pretending it’s fine. Tired of listening to him tear into you over something that isn’t even close to true. “I wouldn’t be losing my shit because you went out with someone else on fucking Valentine’s Day!”

Tomura blinks. “What?”

“You heard me.” You can’t look at him right now. You slump back against the door, your arms crossed over your chest, eyes averted. “Don’t come after me when you’re the one being casual. I’m not the one who went out and got a hot date.”

“That’s what you’re mad about?” Tomura demands. You nod, your eyes stinging. “Were you ever going to say that?”

“And out myself as the one who caught feelings? Are you joking?”

“No!” Tomura explodes. You look at him and find him scratching at his neck, hard. “That’s what I wanted you to do!”

It’s your turn to stare blankly, and Tomura’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. He spins away from you, still scratching. “I haven’t slept in my own bed in a month and a half. I can’t fall asleep without you anymore. You make tea for me if you’re the one who wakes up first and I kiss you goodbye if I leave before you do and even the stuff I hate doing is fun if you’re doing it with me. Except it feels like that because I’m in love with you. And you’re only doing it to blow off steam.”

The stinging in your eyes hits fever pitch. You blink and tears slip down your cheeks. “Tomura –”

“I thought if I told you I had a date, you’d say something. So I’d know one way or the other.” Tomura’s scratching slows, from frantic scrabbles to hard digs. “But you acted like you didn’t care at all. So I went on the date and she could tell I wasn’t into it and she gave me a hard time for leading her on –”

You hated his date on principle up until a few seconds ago. Now you’re actually starting to feel bad for her. Being on the other end of Tomura’s disinterest feels awful. “If you liked me, why didn’t you just say it?”

“I didn’t want to out myself, either.”

You both caught feelings. Neither of you wanted to admit it, but now you both have, which would be really nice except for how you got here. “So we’ve been yelling at each other over nothing.”

“I guess.” Tomura’s hand slows still further, the scratches lightening again. “Now what?”

“Uh –” You try to think, but you’re coming up sort of empty. “We just ruined our first Valentine’s Day together. Should we have make-up sex or something?”

Tomura snorts. “There’s not anything to make up. We were both stupid and we both hurt each other. We’re even.”

“That’s not exactly a no on the make-up sex.” You lever yourself off the door and cross the room to him, reaching up to pull his hand away from the side of his neck. The first time you ever tried that, he got mad at you, but ever since he’s let you do it. He lets you do it today, and you kiss his hand. “I just want us to feel better. It doesn’t matter how we do it.”

Tomura’s fingers curl and uncurl, like he can’t decide whether he wants to hold on. “I said I love you. Do you love me, or did you just catch feelings?”

You had that one coming, probably. “I love you,” you admit, and his grip on your hand tightens. “I should probably have warned you before we started hooking up, but I’m kind of shit at this casual thing.”

“Same.” Tomura leans back against you ever so slightly and you plant your feet in a hurry. “What movie were you watching?”

“Something dumb. We can watch something else.”

“Yeah. When we get back.”

“When we get back?” you ask. “From where?”

“It’s still Valentine’s Day,” Tomura says. “And you’re my girlfriend, so I should probably take you out.”

You’re his girlfriend. You’ve never had a shorter define-the-relationship talk in your life, and part of you can’t think past what a relief it is. But you and Tomura have never gone out, anywhere – whatever’s going on with you has stayed here in your apartment, barely even referenced when you’re outside of it. And you’re not exactly at your best. “I’m in my pajamas,” you start, only to realize how dumb it sounds. “I can change. It won’t take long, and I’ll be ready to go.”

Tomura’s grip on your hand tightens for a brief second before he lets you go. “Wait here.”

He disappears into his room, and you take the opportunity to cap the bottle of vodka and wipe your eyes. You never really got into it with the crying, and you can feel it lurking somewhere in the background, ready to ambush you when you least expect it. It’s been a hard night. Maybe it’s okay if you cry a little bit. Crying in front of your roommate-with-benefits is one thing. It’s probably okay to cry in front of your boyfriend.

The door to Tomura’s room opens. “Okay,” Tomura says, and your jaw drops at the sight of him. “Now we can go.”

You didn’t think much about what he was doing in there, but you assumed he was changing out of his fancy date clothes into something more casual. But Tomura’s skipped straight over casual. He’s wearing pajama pants and the League of Legends hoodie you got him for his birthday last year, and you can see the hem of a comically oversized t-shirt sticking out beneath it. As you watch in shock, he tucks his keys and his phone into the front pocket of the hoodie and heads for the door. “Are you coming?”

“Um, yes.” You find your own phone and wallet, detouring to your room to grab a sweater. “Tomura –”

“You look good like that,” Tomura says. He looks you up and down in a way that makes you think that make-up sex might not be entirely off the table. “I was just getting on your level. Where do you want to go?”

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Let’s figure it out on the way.”

There are other things to figure out on the way, too. Like whose room is going to be your room together, and what you’re going to do with the other one. Like what you’re going to tell your friends, or how Tomura’s going to explain blowing his date with an objectively hot cosplayer so he can go out with you. Like holding hands – which way you like better, and how tight is too tight to hold on, and how fast is it acceptable to grab each other’s hands back after you have to let go.

“This is what got me in trouble,” Tomura says, inspecting your laced fingers as the two of you wait for the train. “Holding hands.”

“How did it get you in trouble?” you ask. “We never really do that at home, except –”

You trail off, your face flushing, and Tomura elaborates. “It was like the third time we hooked up or something. You probably don’t remember.”

You do. It was the fourth time you hooked up, the first time it was spontaneous instead of planned, and you were blowing him on the couch, whichever movie you’d been watching completely forgotten. Tomura was being himself about it, twitching and squirming and making all kinds of pretty sounds that he kept trying to hide, and you glanced sideways at one point and saw his hand, scrabbling desperately at the couch cushions. You had a free hand, so you reached out and held it. You remember being startled at how tightly Tomura held on, surprised at how quickly he stopped trying to be quiet, and when you finally drew back, you were surprised again at how reluctant he was to let you go.

It was weird, but you wrote it off, until the next time you hooked up with him and he went for your hand while he was eating you out. Then it was your turn to hold on too tight.

“I was probably reading into it,” Tomura continues, snapping you out of a set of memories that you’d really rather not be wandering through on a train, “but you doing that – it didn’t seem all that casual to me.”

“Maybe it was never that casual,” you admit. You don’t think you’d have started hooking up with him in the first place if you hadn’t already liked him at least a little bit. “I think I’ll be fine if I never hear the word ‘casual’ again.”

“Casual.”

“Shut up.”

“Casual,” Tomura says again, and you nudge him with your shoulder a little harder than necessary. You’d elbow him, but you’d have to let go of his hand. “We’re going out on Valentine’s Day. Is it casual now?”

He’s joking – mostly. You can tell by the way his grip on your hand tightens, the way his red eyes search your face with a little more urgency than before. “No,” you say, and you kiss him, feeling his lips curve into a smile against yours. “It’s not casual at all.”

#asks #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #a bisquared production

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ameagrice · 13 hours ago

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Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-nine | liar, liar

You were beginning to understand how the ancient Romans enjoyed watching people fight to the death. Because although Percy is literally fighting for his life in the arena dozens of feet below against a being much bigger, and much stronger, than he, there’s something alluring to watching the fight. Something about the crowd yelling, the way your heart speeds up and drops down again every time something gets too close for either of them.

Yeah, the ancient Romans had the right idea.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” Rachel mutters down your ear, just as the crowd goes up in cheers again.

You’ve got your hands clasped together sweaty and squeezing tightly under your chin. Rachel might just be right.

Next to you stands Kelli. The Kelli. The monster Kelli from the high school. Of course you’re never lucky for long. Whenever she hears Rachel talk, she takes a good swipe at her with her talons, or threatens to shut her up in a way that includes blood. Disgusting, honestly. Monsters are in general utterly disgusting.

The floor of the arena and the stands seemed entirely made of packed dirt. You had the best view point in the house, directly in the middle, looking over the arena. Once or twice, Percy casted a look to your height, but he had been quickly drawn away by the ongoing fight. Around the arena were skulls, stuck on to the edge of the seats, and around the ceiling, where chains dangled down. In the middle of the opposite wall, right above the throne Luke Castellan took up, hung a giant banner with the trident of Poseidon in the centre. When you first arrived, the giant thing sitting next to Luke had simply been a spectator. Now, Percy was fighting him. For a few minutes Percy had only managed to confuse him, going this way and that and taking mad dives out of the way. But if he wanted to make it home, Percy would, frankly, need a miracle. Antaeus, a distant son of Poseidon. He declared this arena a ‘temple to the Earthshaker’ and demanded Percy engage in a fight.

Now, you’re trying to send him messages with your eyes whilst being totally enthralled in the fight itself. The Ancient Greeks had the Olympics, and the Romans their Gladiators. Sometimes you thought you might have been a better fit for the past. And then you thought about your rights, and decided you’d be alright where you are.

You’d been sending him ideas with your eyes the whole fight time. Finally, Percy got the hint, with one singular glance in your direction. He’d made it up to the chains, climbing further and higher so Antaeus had no choice but to follow the fighter in order to win. If Percy got away, what sort of show would that be? Thankfully, Antaeus followed Percy’s—your—idea, climbing up the chains, yelling. By the time he’d reached the top and become tangled, Percy slid back down the chains, all the way to the ground, panting and sweaty in the face.

“Get me down!” Antaeus demanded.

Luke, from his makeshift throne, was absolutely furious. He got to his feet, angry as hell. “Free him! Now.”

Percy, a tiny dot in the arena, pulled the pen from his pocket and pulled the cap. Riptide materialised.

“Oh, I’ll free him,” said Percy. Something about the way the arena was constructed had his voice echoing around it. Annabeth would know what it was. He stood on his toes, ever so slightly, and raised the tip of Riptide to Antaeus’s stomach. With the point, he touched the giant’s skin, and sand began to pour out. As a being of the earth, Antaeus would struggle to regenerate without touching it, hence your idea to have him off the ground. Sand poured into a pile as the giant roared in anger, the crowd watched in disbelief, until there was nothing left of Antaeus.

And Luke…

“I should have killed you right at the beginning.”

You could vaguely hear your friend hum in amusement. “You tried. And failed. Let us go, Luke. We had an agreement with Antaeus; I’m the winner.”

“Antaeus’s oath dies with him. Since I’m feeling merciful today, I’ll have you killed quickly. Save the girls for last. I’d like them to watch their little hero die. An example.”

“This is, like,” you pause for a moment, thinking. “This is…”

“Are you gonna say something stupid?”

You nod slowly, glancing up. “Might do, yeah.”

“Please do. I’d like to laugh at the dumb shit coming out of your mouth before we die.”

You roll your eyes. “Pfffttttt. We’re not gonna die, Rachel! We’re just gonna suffer for a little bit. We’ll live. Totally.”

Rachel snorts heavily, and Kelli retaliates by hissing down her ear like some possessed rattlesnake. “Well, as long as we suffer, eh?”

You hum. Percy begins backing up in the arena. “As is the life of a demigod.”

“I’m not a demigod!” Your companion complains.

“As is the life of…someone with bad luck? The two go hand-in-hand, really—” you trail off, standing back to observe the situation at hand.

Rachel laughed almost mockingly. Drawing back, a little hurt, you frown heavily. “What are you supposed to be? A child poet?”

Then, shrugging your shoulders, unable to back down to embarrassment, “You never know. There’s time yet. And I’m not a child, Rachel, I’m nearly sixteen. You’re younger than me!”

She eyed you up and down. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”

A shrill scream, like nails on a chalkboard, rang from behind. Both yourself and Rachel jumped violently, stumbling aside as Kelli, who had been keeping guard, was suddenly lifted in the mouth of a giant, black Mastiff and thrown over the edge of the arena. She screamed as she hit the ground, your stomach churned with the sight, before she promptly exploded in a puff of golden dust, sent right back to Tartarus.

For a moment, you stand, jarred, overlooking the arena, hands perched on the rail edge. Chaos has broken out below.

“Come on!” Rachel snatches up your sweater, yanking you away from the overview. “Let’s go!”

Sliding across sand-dusted ground, you find Percy waiting impatiently at the bottom, looking left and right anxiously. The giant hound, Mrs O’Leary, is leaping in your direction like she’s had too much sherbet and chocolate, tongue lolling, eyes bright.

“Hurry up!” Percy urges with an impatient and nervous look on his face. “Go, go, go!”

The three of you take off out of there, following the path the whole way through with the assistance of Rachel, guiding the way.

"Left!" She'd shout, taking a dramatic turn down what looked like the chute for a body bag to be thrown down. At the bottom stood a set of rusty metal doors, and when you reached them, they flung open with monsters waiting on the other side. Trying to run back up the chute in complete darkness, with horrific noise catching up from behind, had to be up there with the worst experiences of your life. To put it into perspective; imagine getting up in the night for a glass of water, not turning on the light in the hall, and knowing there is something waiting for you in the dark, only you can't run fast enough away. Pretty terrible.

Later on, at a New Years Eve party, you chewed Rachel out for that for that incident, and would continue to do so for the rest of your lives.

Despite the heart attack you experienced as you made your getaway up the body chute, you found the energy somehow (and the breath) to acknowledge the extra member of your group, tagging alongside Percy, like a lost puppy. A slender boy a teensy bit older than you, whose sword carried some sort of essence providing a little bit of light, bouncing off of his silk-like ebony hair, and the patch covering his left eye. Lights lit your path in the dark, running down the hall toward two new sets of doorways.

"The far right door!" Gasped Rachel, holding on to the wall for support. "That's the right way. I promise this time!"

The mysterious new guy barrelled on through the right doorway first, a good job, since you didn't fancy being that room's experiment. As he flung the door open, daylight blinded you, and a horrible sense of deja vu overcame you. Disorientated, you stumble out to the sidewalk, throwing aside an old couple into the path of the cab rank. Cars blare their horns, and the old couple are looking at you like you've killed their dog or something. As the feeling fades, you're left with what you can only describe as horror, like some sickness is lingering under your skin, rotting from the inside out. You stumble over the edge of the sidewalk, directly into oncoming traffic, and find your eyes drawn up to the clouds of smoke from an industrial site across the street, billowing into the sky at a hundred miles an hour.

"Hey!"

Turning your head, you find Percy gripping you by the wrist, confused and his eyes swimming with concern. "I've been talking to you. Didn't you hear me?"

You shake your head no. "Sorry," you breathe. "Must've...missed you."

He looks back and forth between your eyes. They sting, for some reason. "I've been standing here for ages."

"Well, nevermind that, then. Just got confused. Did we not come out of the same place or something? Where's Rachel, anyway."

There’s no sight of the redhead on the streets, not even when you spin in a circle four times and shout ‘RACHELLLLLLL!’ with no shame, while Percy ducks his head and avoids all eye contact with the public. Thunder cracks high above, and a couple of tourists tip their cameras to the sky to take pictures.

“Damn,” you shrug your shoulders. “She must be lost to the Maze. Shame. Let’s go home.” You spin on your heel. Percy grabs you by the collar and pulls you back across the sidewalk.

“We’ll go back in,” he decides firmly.

“Huh?!” Outraged at his suggestion, you plant your feet solidly into the concrete. You throw your hands out around the pole of a streetlight. “With that lot still in there? Fat chance!”

Percy flaps his hands around like he’s losing patience, and then waves one at the doorway you ran out of. It’s a thin sheet of metal, with bullet holes all over.

“We can’t leave a mortal in the Maze!” He exclaims, and stresses a line between his eyebrows.

“But she knows the way!” You emphasise. “She can see it, apparently, which I think is a load of bull. If she could see her way in there, she can see her way out, can’t she.”

“Fine,” he turns his back on you. “Stay on the streets.”

“Well you can’t go back on your own!” You fume, running to catch the door before it shuts without you. “I mean come on, Percy, use your brain.”

You see him smirk for a split second, before the door slams shut behind you, casting you into darkness. It’s so dark you can’t see your hands in front of your face, or Percy, for that matter.

“Are you still there?” You ask. He hums. A warm hand slaps your nose. “Ow!”

“What is that?” Percy laughs. It feels stark when you’ve lost a sense. “Is that your eye?”

“My nose!” You hmph!. “Do my eyes usually stick out directly?”

“When you don’t get what you want, yeah.”

“Liar. What now, anyway? You got a flashlight?”

“Yeah, let me just pull it out of my a—”

“Aaaaaaalright, that’s a no.” You sigh through your nose. “We’re back to the hand on the wall, I guess. Hold my shirt?”

Percy’s fingers find the space between your shoulder blades, before you set off, following the maze around with your hands out on either side, touching both walls. It’s incredibly claustrophobic in here. When you call for Rachel every few metres, your voice barely echoes thanks to the small confines of where you find yourselves. You’re not keen on Rachel, but knowing she’s lost somewhere down here isn’t comforting. You’d be terrified on your own here, so you can’t imagine how’s she’s feeling.

“Do you think she found her way out?”

“Huh?”

“Rachel,” you add. “D’you think she found her way out?”

“Careful,” Percy flicks your back. “You sound like you care.”

You scoff heavily. “I don’t like her. Doesn’t mean I want her to get hurt. I’m not that bad of a person, Percy.” And then… “Am I?”

He sniffs. “No. But to answer your question, she said she could see the way. I believe her. I think she would have found her way out by now, at least.”

You nod, but he can’t see you do it. “Right. Right.”

You continue on in what is mostly silence, besides the sound of your breathing, and footsteps. That is, until a sensor light suddenly flickers by your feet, lighting the way. Paused, you hesitantly stick your foot out and watch the next one light up.

“Who needs Rachel, huh?” Nervously, you take the plunge to keep going. It was almost better in the dark when you couldn’t see what waited up ahead. You look up. And roll your eyes, abruptly stopping. Percy kicks the back of your ankle, pulling your foot from your shoe. “Oh, for gods sake, it’s a dead end. Turn around, go back.”

“Geez. Fine. Fine! But can I remind you—hold up!”

“What?” You snap, but stop trying to shuffle around him.

You scarcely see him when the light is by your feet, but you can make out enough to see him squint his eyes. “Don’t you see it?”

“What?”

He raises his hand and presses to your side, raising his pointed finger directly in your line of sight, landing on a thin strip of warm light, barely there. The dead end is in fact a doorway.

“Oh,” you mumble softly. “Should we—?”

You didn’t need to ask, really. Percy slid past you and headed straight for the doorway, raising his hand to slide across what sounds like wood until it lands on the handle. No sound besides the two of you was audible before he opened the door, but the second he did so, it was like stepping into a whole other world. The hum of mechanical things roared, like a presser and iron, and steam. A radio came next, classical music floating to your ears.

“Wait!” You hiss, taking off after him. Not only because you were scared with nothing behind you, but because you were scared of him going alone.

Behind the door lay a room as big a school gymnasium, containing bronze statues half-finished covered with wilting white dust sheets. One of them resembled your mother. The other was a small wood nymph. Looking past the statues, the mechanics and the tables, a huge window making up the majority of the wall opposite looked out over some sort of wilderness. It was raining, but the sun shone. No rainbow, though.

Percy choked. Stepping inside, closing the door, you jogged over to the table he stood before, admiring sets of literal wings. The feathers almost shone gold. Trailing the tips of your fingers across them, they might just have been the softest things you’d ever felt in your life. Although not symmetrical to a T, they were pretty damn close to being. You walked in a circle around them and admired the way light beamed off of the feathers, as if liquid gold had doused them. On the other side of the table, Percy stood mesmerised, and his face was bathed in golden light cast from the wings. His gaze dropped and lowered, landing on you.

And then neither of you were caught by the wings, but by each other. Your hair dusted your lashes and your cheeks and from the corners of your eyes it had changed shade, somewhat glowing gold and warm yellow on its own. The silver in Percy’s hair turned luminous, kissing his brows. His freckles were highlighted across his cheeks and nose, as if he’d been kissed by an angel. For some reason, a swell of unknown emotion came over you and struck you right in the chest.

Why did you feel so…sad?

Someone slurped from a cup, way behind you. “Welcome to Colorado Springs!” A man’s voice called. Turning to the source, the sound came evidently from the figure on a spiral staircase, overlooking the workshop from the second floor you hadn’t noticed right away.

“I know you,” said Percy with plenty of distaste. “Quintus. Where’s Daedalus.”

“I like your confidence!” He began to descend. “You’re very sure this is his workshop?”

“What else could it be?” You say dryly. “What have you done with him?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to meet him.”

You lean your hip on the table. “I didn’t come all this way just to be told no. And I didn’t come all this way just to see you. I want answers. We want answers.”

Quintus came down the stairs. He had a sword at his side like he had been expecting you to turn up.

“You think that I work with Luke and Kronos.”

“I don’t think. I know.” You didn’t really. But he didn’t need to know that.

“You’re a smart girl. But you’re very wrong. I only work for myself.”

“So Geryon mentioning you was, what, a coincidence?” Piped Percy. “And Luke?”

Quintus laughed. “Of course! I’ve been everywhere.”

“Stop playing around,” Percy turned cold. “What have you done with Daedalus?”

“My boy,” Quintus stared. Rounding the table to near Percy, he said, “use your brain. I am Daedalus.”

Narrowing your eyes, you looked him up and down twice, for any indication that this man was in fact the man you’d been looking for. All you could see was a liar and a scumbag.

“Where’s your proof?” You jerk your chin at him.

Quintus grinned and tilted his head. “What, you don’t believe me?”

“Does it sound like we believe you?”

“At camp,” began Percy, “you were just a swordsman. Not an inventor. Or a crafter. You don’t seem a thing like Daedalus. You’ve probably kidnapped him and hidden him someplace back there.”

Quintus took the last sip of his drink and slammed the cup down on the side. “I am many things. An artist. A swordsman. An inventor. You live for so long…eh, you pick up a couple things along the way.”

“But you don’t even look like Daedalus!” Cried Percy. He waved a pointed hand to him. “I saw him in my dream. But you don’t look a thing alike.”

Something twisted at the base of your spine. Leaning forward, one hand on the table and the other rubbing the spot on your back, you had a sudden idea. “Daedalus would make himself a new body. Somebody capable of making a maze could easily do that. So that’s what you’ve done, if you are him, anyway. Am I right?”

Quintus winked, smiling with glee, now you’d connected the dots. “Right you are, my dear.”

You wrinkled your nose. “How’d you do it, then? How’d you transfer a human soul, a living spirit, to a machine? That shouldn’t be possible. It can’t be. Not really.”

“Did Hera curse Echo? Did Apollo turn Daphne? All of these things should cease to be made possible to the ordinary mind, and yet they are very much real.” Quintus lowered his gaze to the cardboard cup and flicked it, so it went rolling off the edge. It bounced once on the ground, and rolled to your feet. You looked at it and up again to Quintus.

“Quintus quite literally means ‘the fifth’, in Latin. My fifth body. I mean, come on, sister, you’re smarter than this! It’s been right in front of your face this whole time!”

You gagged. “Don’t call me that. I’d never be related to something as unnatural as you.”

“If you really are Daedalus,” input Percy. “Why did you come to our camp? What’s the point?”

Quintus shrugged, not bothered. “To see if you were worth saving.” Your eyes widened and hardened. “Luke had given me his version. I wanted my own.”

Percy laughed without any humour. “So you have talked to him. Luke.”

He hummed. “Many times, yes.”

“So what conclusion did you come to?” You butt in. “Save innocent people or let the world burn?”

Quintus smirked, and rolled his shoulders. He whistled loudly. “Wow! A poet in the making.” Your cheeks burned. “If you must know, I didn’t come to any conclusion.”

“Then let us persuade you instead. Don’t let Luke through the maze. Don’t let Kronos take over.”

Daedalus hummed and twirled his sword at his side. He watched the glow of the wings bounce off its surface. “The maze cannot be controlled.”

You scoffed heavily, and sidled slowly around the table, closer to Percy. Close enough that your sides were touching totally, you reached your hand around his back while Quintus wasnt looking, and dug your fingers into Percy’s front pocket, at his hip. His sword, in pen-form, sat waiting for you.

“So you can’t control your own creation?” You drawled. “What sort of inventor are you?”

He hummed a short laugh, low in his throat. Raising his eyes, Quintus stilled, an expression on his face like he’d been caught out, but sly. “An old one. I’ve cheated death for over two-thousand years. Don’t get me wrong, children, I want to help you. I feel, what you might call, guilty, even.”

You grit your teeth.

“Then help us,” Percy demanded. “Give us Ariadne’s string. Don’t let Luke have it.”

“Yes, that. I told Luke, I told him. I said, the eyes of a clear-sighted mortal are his best bet. But he didn’t listen. Insisted on having it. And it works,” he nodded. Quintus leant his hip on the table. “Oh, it works. Perhaps not as well as your red-headed friend out there, but it is effective.”

Percy pleadingly held his hands out, taking a step forward. “Then, let us have it.” He asked. “Please. Don’t give it to Luke.”

Quintus then sighed, but he didn’t sound particularly guilty. “I’m afraid you’re too many hours too late.”

Riptide materialised at your side, the tip of the sword just touching the ground where your hand bumped your thigh, grip tight. You shook your head, and laughed mirthlessly.

“See,” you kissed your teeth. “That’s not what’s happening here. You’re going to get it back. Because what else did we take this quest on for?”

“What would my reason have been for preventing this? Besides, I never agreed for you all to do this.”

“You didn’t object to it!” You exclaim, raising the sword swiftly in Quintus’s face. The sharp tip of it lands on his cheek, cutting a straight line vertically. Oil poured from the wound, gold. “Back at camp, when you agreed to let me lead this quest. You didn’t object. And I think that it’s because, deep down somewhere, there’s a part of you that wants this all to end. That’s why you agreed to let me come down here in the first place. Otherwise, what was it for? You don’t want the Titans to take over, you just want it all to end. You’ve gotta be pretty tired after two-thousand years. If you just let us stop this! You’re going to let Luke and Kronos kill thousands of people all for the sake of peace and peace of mind?! You’re going to let them take over everything, end the gods, and for what? You’re going to bring down the whole world to get what you want? Well, I’m sorry—I don’t let selfish, bigoted men rule, here.”

“Here’s the thing. Kronos has offered me freedom. I don’t have that at the moment. Allowing the two of you to get what you want would set back so much. Understand this; sometimes, what we want isn’t always the right thing. The Gods have ruled for too long. Ignored things for too long. Kronos is going to fix it all. Mark my words. When he comes to power, I can be with my son again in the afterlife. Kronos will banish Hades. And I will no longer be running from death.”

“Death is the most natural part of life,” you shake your head. “There’s no avoiding it, for anyone. You’re really going to let millions of people die just to get what you want? The whole world.”

He nodded. The point of the sword dug into his cheek, though he scarcely noticed. “Your cause is doomed. End of. There’s no way anybody can fight off Kronos, even if we wanted to.”

“Pessimist,” muttered Percy.

The floor suddenly began to shake. Lightly at first, and then violently enough for the tables to begin to shake. Quintus threw a lazy look at the upper level.

“I would be on my way, were I you. They’re coming. And you are ill-prepared.”

You slowly lowered Riptide but held it between yourself and Percy, and Quintus. “That’s it. You’ve made up your mind.”

He nodded firmly. “I have.”

“You’re a disappointment to the world.” Percy snapped. “We won’t forget that.”

Quintus waved his hand to another door on the opposite wall, to your right. “Well,” he said. “It’s a good job you won’t be around for long enough to care. Enjoy the rest of your days, demigods.”

So what else was there to do, you wondered. Percy took you by the hand and led the way, gritting his teeth and not looking back. Was it the thought of your wasted journey, perhaps? The losing little Nico in a maze of whose creator couldn’t give a shit? Or maybe, the thought of impending doom.

You wandered through the dark for a few seconds, until you missed a step and free-fell in the dark, screaming. You let go of Riptide to grab on to Percy’s other hand, a mess of limbs in the darkness, until that darkness turned into a stream, and you found yourself heading straight for a lit tunnel that opened up to the Hudson. Percy tried to take the brunt of the fall, trying to turn you midair, but ultimately failed. Winded, you fought your way to the surface with Percy’s help, until you came up coughing on the bank, freezing cold.

“What now?” Percy pulled himself from the water, shaking his head like a dog. River water struck your face. You glared at him.

“Sleep on it?” You thought, angrily. “It’s late. Got to be. But if we leave it another night, things’ll only get worse.”

Percy sighed, digging his hands in his pockets. It didn’t look comfortable. His hair was stuck to his face. “We can’t go around the city like this. Let’s sleep on it. We’ll go back to my place. I’ll find out where Rachel is. She might know how to help us.”

Rachel. You didn’t say anything, sure your face was telling all, but nodded your head.

Sally Jackson had the most normal reaction to your situation. As a mom to a demigod, she’d probably seen and heard more than she let on in her life. Upon answering the door, and Percy’s incessant knocking, you watched Sally’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before softening, and sighing.

“Come on,” she yawned, stepping back and rubbing her eyes. “Get in.”

Admittedly, despite the warmed-up cookies and a warm spot on the couch, you couldn’t fall asleep. Dressed in an old pair of Sally’s pyjama shorts and tee, wrapped around a spare duvet in starry sheets, you found yourself blinking with sore, tired eyes at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. There weren’t many left up there; glue residue telling tales of fallen plastic stars. They made you think of Zoe Nightshade, and so you rolled over, curled up, and listened to the hum of the refrigerator until you fell asleep.

this is short. and overdue. short and overdue. short and…you get the idea.

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hubba-hubba1 · 2 days ago

Text

I’m so glad that the women and girls who discover radical feminism and 4b are finally waking up about the lies they were told by the degenerate toxic patriarchal society who tries to groom them into being vulnerable and exploited housewives or worse. I saw on reddit and other platforms how former tradlife, conservative, liberal, or ‘pick me’ girls realized a male’s attention wasn’t worth it after torturing theirselves about their appearances or being criticized for every single thing by male peers and other female peers who want male validation. A middle aged former conservative lady told about how she was the “perfect” wife and went to church and took care of the kids and house even dressing/looking the part, but her ex husband still ended up cheating on her for a younger woman and she was left with almost nothing after the divorce. There is hope for women and girls after all if they spread the word and avoid messes like these.

On another note, women and girls in the global south or others who are in a similar situation where they come from poorer areas are more prone to violence from the men in their communities because they have less resources to deal with them. One lady told me how her uncle and aunt tried to abort their baby once they found out it was a girl and they got away with it at first even though that was illegal in their country but thankfully she eventually told on them to the police. More women are taking back their power and showing the same energy by supporting other women and girls financially or being there for their sisters in other ways, adopting or having girls and teaching them radfem values, aborting males which saves other girls and women from future violent criminals, focusing on their careers or having a good means of income, and avoiding those vermin manifesting itself as right wing/conservative men and boys with brain damage, and performative liberal men. I have seen different women and girls from every walk of life in the radical intersectional feminist community and I admire how it tackles how cruel the world is to us while having resources to help other women and girls without babying men + boys irrelevant feelings like any other community would.

What’s alarming is that many disgusting and demonic rich men and their hell spawns/family (rich women that are like-minded and associated with them are not our allies) hold power and spread misogynistic, racist, classist and homophobic right wing propaganda luring in insecure + pathetic boys and men who think they will get a chance to be like them when they’re just disposable peasants in the twisted rich men’s eyes. They also make it harder for the average woman to get better jobs in stem (science, technology, engineering, and math) careers and universities. Notice how women make up the majority of the education and healthcare workforce but are struggling with living costs because they aren’t paid enough? They see that women try to improve theirselves and come up with ways to tear you down. Greedy rich men destroy and exploit women’s countries in South+central America, Asia, and Africa for profit and the average men carry out their dirty work (war crimes, sexual tourism/trafficking) while seeing how those women are living in poor conditions then try to coerce them into sexual and financial abuse. In a better world, both of these groups of oppressors would pay for their crimes against half the population and go extinct, but since this is reality women and girls will need to make it hell on earth for them like how they have been doing to us and stop falling into the soft life propaganda which never worked for your mothers and grandmothers in the past and now.

#radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radblr #feminism #radical feminist community #4b #get yourself a self defense weapon like bear mace or a gun #intersectional feminism

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w2soneshots · 3 days ago

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omgg i’d love to see like youtuber!reader and bach, maybe like a silly little q&a? or even one of those cute but kinda cringe couple challenges from like 2010 loll ( like the chapstick challenge or smth ). obviously don’t feel pressured to write this if you don’t want to!! love ur work btw 🩷

Q&A -Italian Bach

words: 0.7k+

warnings: suggestive content.

summary: you and Bach answer his fans weird and funny questions about your relationship.

notes: hello lovely!💗 Thank you so much for your request (I apologise for posting it so late🙈). This was actually so much fun to write and it’s also my first fic for Italian Bach, hehe. I hope you enjoy!!✨🫶🏼

"Hello m' lady," Isaac greeted me at his apartment door, stepping aside to let me in. I giggled before softly pecking him on the lips.

We were both quite new to the whole youtuber thing just eight months ago. We met through a friend and decided to film a video together. The fans started shipping us, as they do, and something else ended up blossoming between us.

"Ready to film?" I asked, after we'd spent a little while chatting on his sofa. "Yup!" He jumped up and then reached for my hands to pull me up and off the couch.

He brought another chair into the spare bedroom so we could both sit at his desk, then he turned the camera on and we got started.

"Hello, my little gremlins," he began in a strange voice, I didn't bat an eyelid since I was fully used to his antics. "Today I have my girlfriend here to answer some of your questions. So get comfy and maybe get some popcorn or something."

I shuffled in the chair as he pulled out his phone. "Okay... Jacob asked, do you guys fuc-" he faked a gasp and I raised my eyebrows. "Jacob that is absolutely disgusting, you little virgin man... ew, but the answer to your question is yes. Anything to say on the matter y/n?" I breathed out a laugh. "Nope. I think you covered all bases."

"Next! Lillian, ah... can never trust a Lillian," I furrowed my brows. "What why?" "I have my reasons. Okay, she asked when did you realise you loved y/n?" "Aw, that's cute!" I smiled.

"Umm... probably when I got some of that poosay!" "Isaac!" I playfully slapped his arm. "No no, I'm joking! It was after we'd just finished filming a video and we ordered dinner and I realised that even the boring, simple things I always enjoyed doing it if it was with you."

"Oh my god, that was actually such a sweet answer, the tiktok editors are gonna eat that up." He chuckled as he knew I was right.

"Do you wanna read this one?" He asked. I nodded and took the phone. "Wolfman57 asked when we want kids," my eyes widened as I read the message. "First of all, I love your username, secondly that's a big question to ask, wolfman." Bach stated.

"Why don't we get back to you in a few years?" I opted. "Yes, we shall do that," Isaac seconded. "Moving on... oh lord, Sam asked, what's the biggest animal you think you could fit up your ass?" "Woah Sam, that's crazy," Bach grimaced.

"Why don't you take the phone back?" I said and he quickly took it. "I'm sorry your eyes had to witness that my love," he joked.

After quite a few interesting questions we were onto the last one. I leaned my head on Isaac's shoulder so that I could see the phone. "Okay... finally, Laura asked, what's our favourite thing about each other?"

"Ooo, I like this!" I grinned. "My favourite thing about you is your ability to find the good in any situation. Though an honourable mention is that fat ass," he answered.

I scoffed. "That was sweet and you know what... I'll take it. Okay, now yours, my kind sir, would be your funny little jokes and the way they make me belly laugh. Along with the mullet," I smirked as I ran my hand over the back of his hair.

"Thank you for watching till the end, obviously y/n will be back soon so put any requests of things you want to see us film in the comments!" "Nothing dirty," I added. Bach chuckled before turning the camera off.

"That was perfect." "You're perfect, now let's go get some lunch," he responded, standing. "You know... if we order something, that usually takes like twenty minutes to come..." "ah... what do you suggest we do while we wait ma'am?" "I don't know, a lot can be accomplished in twenty minutes," I replied with a cheeky smile.

In and instant he'd grabbed me and flung me over his shoulder. I let out a shriek and giggled as he ran with me into our bedroom.

#italian bach #isaac smith #italian bach x reader #isaac smith x reader #youtuber x reader #tiktoker x reader #british youtubers #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #x fem!reader #x female reader #x y/n #x you #x reader #youtube #fluff

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tuliptiger · 23 hours ago

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Bro I hate Silco so much. Bro. And don't get it twisted right. He's a good character, he's well written or in THE VERY LEAST incredibly interesting and compelling. To me I guess. I still can't stand him, I hate him and I think he embodies every human flaw a person can have. And every bad decision we make at our lowest points.

And for that I can't stand him in the purest way and I think that's kind of awesome. Get him out of my face though lol fuck that guy. Great presentation of what I feel a lot of people in the world are like or have the potential to be like rn.

For what he was meant to be, having just found out the original plan for him which I really shouldn't consider. Or maybe I should in favor of him, as a little grace for him. I guess Jinx and him were supposed to be like romantic. If that's your thing go for it I guess but I'm not going to talk nicely about it and it disgusts me as a heads up. Fair warning.

I'm forever grateful they didn't pull a Joker/Harley Quinn but because jesus christ I think I actually would've hated Arcane for that. For all you people complaining about Arcane, sure that's your right and it's all personal tastes anyway but it could've been actually, sincerely awful. It would've ruined Jinx as a character and undercut all of her nuance, her autonomy as a real, deeply thought out character. Her struggles, her mental health, her trauma, it would've fucking sucked.

I hate Silco for even the possibility of that and unfortunately i think it explains a little bit about some things. But anyway, back to hating Silco.

1.) He betrayed every single thing he's ever cared about in his life. He betrayed Felicia by trying to and knowingly kill her children. He betrayed the promise he made to not JUST Vander but to Felicia and himself.

Because what? Vander betrayed him first? Because he tried to kill him? Because he probably does feel genuine regret about maybe enacting the event that got Felicia killed? We never get the story but I think it's implied. Either that or Vander really was just deep in grief and rage and put that on Silco. I think they both fucked up for the record but Vander didn't CONTINUE that for the rest of his life.

What did any of that have to do with Vi and Powder/Jinx though? He's the reason everything bad happened, maybe you could blame Viktor since he went back to give Jayce the rune but every bad moment after that is almost exclusively Silco.

2.) He bribed Marcus contributing to the corruption in Piltover and Zaun. He fed drugs to Zaun for the point of nothing in my opinion. Because he couldn't come to terms with his grief, he couldn't make Piltover pay the way he wanted them too? He justified his own terrible actions for some idea of an independent Zaun for what? For who? Piltover may have taken from him but he actively chose to burn whatever he had left by trying to kill Powder and Vi.

3.) He's the reason Vi and her crew lost their loot, and their lives NOT Powder. He's the reason or at least the means for Singed to create more fucked up abominations and shimmer.

4.) He IS A HUGE SOFTIE he's soft as fuck. He loves and he loves deeply but he could never get over himself to do better. And this is possibly the main reason I hate him, he sincerely loved Vander and Jinx and Felicia and Zaun. People get hurt all the time, and it isn't the same as the trauma he faced but I DON'T think a reasonable series of decisions is to betray everything you are and have worked for to fuck over literally everyone around you. He is the scorched earth method, he wanted to hurt everyone and everything for what he felt and experienced. He's so incredibly selfish I cannot stand him.

5. A close contender, maybe even tied because I love Jinx so much. I hate that he is directly related to all of the hurt Vi and Jinx have experienced. I hate, I loath, I detest what he did to Powder and to Jinx. I feel so fed with season 2 episode 7, we DIRECTLY see what happens when Silco doesn't decide every day to hurt the world around him and hurt everyone in it. What happens to Powder without his fucked up influence.

I never thought anyone made Jinx specifically, like there isn't someone to blame because it felt diminishing to Jinx herself. But I'm rethinking it, I would say with certainty Jinx wouldn't have existed without Silco. I don't give him full credit, not in the creation of her and not her herself but the REASON she was reborn into a different person. Powder and Jinx created Jinx, but she created her because she had to, because Silco brought her into a fucked up world where she had to be different to survive.

Silco didn't support her, he enabled her, made her fear the world, fed her insecurities and projected himself into her. And because he does love, he really really did love her I think, that was what she felt she needed as a TWELVE year old girl. She needed a guardian who had her best interest at heart and not just love. Whatever support she had before, he ripped it from her and shredded it, and from that pile of rubble and ash Jinx had to find herself and emerge. But she picked herself up and chiseled herself into who she is in the series not Silco.

She's smart as a whip, she's so incredibly clever. She knew to some extent the reality of what was happening. But reality didn't have any real gravity anymore for her without something to hold her to it. Silco, at any time, could have stopped what he was doing. He could've seen her hurting and said, this isn't it. This isn't worth it. But he didn't, and she didn't need a reason to change because she had someone who fed her love when she had no one. When she thought it was all her fault and where Silco tried to convince her Vander and Vi weren't good people and that they didn't love her, won't love her.

I could go on, I fucking hate Silco. Once again, I think he's the weakest character emotionally and mentally but certainly not writing wise. He's spineless, he can kill sure, but in the main universe he couldn't get over his own feelings of guilt and hurt to do better. Nobody is satisfied with the slow progression of equity, of freedoms and peace. Silco wanted to take it all violently, take it all and take everything around it down with him.

In another universe, he's better. He makes better decisions because a different set of events led to reconciliation between Vander and him. Because Piltover made the first move of peace after Vi had to be sacrificed. Because Marcus saw a dead Zaun child in the arms of her younger sister. Because a lot of things, Silco is a better man and I think he's stronger for it.

The main universe Silco was wrong about everything he did, he made every possible bad decision on purpose over and over and over again.

The fact that I just wrote what feels like an essay on this bastard should at least show how I hate him, in the way I don't like hate hate him. I hate him in the way good art makes you hate it in just the right way. I think he's interesting enough to think about. I don't hate the alt universe Silco, I just hate the main one. He's multifaceted, he's a villain, he just kind of sucks, he moved the story in permanent ways. He forever changed the world by facilitating the events that led to Jinx as a person in Runeterra.

Anyway Yeah I really really hate Silco. Thanks for reading lol If you have some good points or different interpretations of events with Silco I would genuinely love to read them especially if they are different. I'm the first to admit I don't fully understand all the subtleties in Arcane and I love it for that, but I miss things. Changing my view on what actually happened in scenes is one of my favorite things to do right now. I crave the richer and fuller offering of a closely inspected Arcane provides tbh.

#words #arcane #anti silco #character hate #technically #I did like #warn people at the top #although the comment was rude I did remove the other character tags #it is a lot of negativity #but once I do hate him but not because I think he's a bad character #if he was a real person he'd suck 🤷‍♀️ at least in the main universe

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