#im still trying to make her more accurate

[valeisaslut]

Possibly cannon that collide Ellie draws some of her album covers?….. or even some of her singles😗😗

NONNIE. OMG. YOU JUST REWIRED MY BRAIN. I'VE BEEN ON PINTEREST FOR AN HOUR STRAIGHT. it’s SO canon now. also took a little bit of freedom and added so much more stuff!

COLLIDE ROCKSTAR!ELLIE'S SKETCHBOOK

collide ellie isn’t just a rockstar—she’s an artist in the most chaotic, sexy, VERY EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED way imaginable. like yeah she can shred onstage and yell into a mic, but she also stays up at 3am in hotel rooms with a pencil clenched between her teeth, sketching like her life depends on it.

her art style is raw and unhinged—scribbly pencil lines, charcoal smears, ink-stained fingers. it’s messy and moody and SO her. her sketchbooks are war zones. pages torn, corners bent. sometimes it looks like she attacked the paper in a blackout. other times it’s so delicate you feel like you’re intruding just looking at it.

she’s done some of the Fireflies’ most iconic album and single covers:

but here’s the real kicker: she’s got a private sketchbook. not the kind that gets left on the tour bus or tossed into her duffel. no. this one’s hidden. zippered into her guitar case or shoved between mattress and box spring.

and it’s full of you.

you think ellie’s moody and mysterious? babe. she’s sketching the curve of your spine, the indent of your hip, you mid-orgasm in obsessive, excruciating detail like she’s trying to exorcise it out of her system.

not just one drawing. we’re talking a series. a full-blown, chronological, positionally accurate collection of "you riding her into next week." some from memory. some from quick glances in the mirror. some from angles you don’t even remember being in.

her sketchbook is like if a horny Victorian painter had access to lesbian sex and insomnia. it’s less “study of the human form” and more like, “i’m losing my mind over this girl and the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth is compulsively drawing her bare pussy.”

she loves drawing your tits. like, spiritually. artistically. carnally. your thighs too. your eyes. the curve of your back. your collarbones. she’s got whole spreads dedicated to each. and in the margins? little notes. deranged notes. written in her messy handwriting around the edges like she's documenting rare wildlife:

“shaky hands here. she said my name when she came. HOT. why can't i sketch that.”

“draw this angle again but darker. deeper shadow. more tongue.”

“bite marks from earlier. left side deeper.”

“she bit her lip right here. fuck.”

“she always arches like this when i touch her there”

“don’t forget: her thighs shake right before”

“this one’s from that night. THAT night”

“do a side-by-side of the mirror reflection next time”

and the occasional pure chaos like “looks like a renaissance painting if you squint” or “god i’m so fucking in love with her KILL ME” or just "im so down bad."

sometimes they’re messy and fast, like she was racing to capture the memory before it slipped. sometimes they’re painfully detailed. shaded with love. and lust. and obsession.

meanwhile, jesse saw a single page once and practically had a religious experience. he didn’t even mean to. he was looking for a setlist, flipped to a page, and BOOM: a full-frontal, beautifully rendered graphite version of you doing...things. his brain blue-screened. he stared for 10 full seconds and went–

“jesus, your girl looks like THAT??”

ellie almost passed out when she saw it. tackled him to get the sketchbook back “GIVE ME THAT—IT’S FUCKING PRIVATE!! FUCK OFF!!!”

she didn’t speak to anyone for the rest of the day and jesse still won’t make eye contact with you in certain lighting. he's kinda traumatized. but very impressed.

you’ve never seen these. she won’t let you. and if you even joke about it she turns bright red and buries the sketchbook under some old band tees, mumbling “they’re not ready,”

the only ones she’s ever shown you are the soft portraits—your face in the morning light, your hand curled into a pillow, the crease between your brows when you’re asleep. they’re beautiful. you love them. but you know she’s hiding more from you.

and then there’s the other pages. the ones she won’t even talk about. the ones never meant for anyone to see.

they’re raw. brutal. jagged lines and too-dark shading, like she pressed the pencil hard enough to tear through the paper. fractured self-portraits that barely look like her—hollow eyes, clenched teeth, limbs twisted or missing. some of them look like they were drawn during a full-blown breakdown, like she was trying to bleed something out.

eyes. strangers. cameras. flashes. everywhere. watching her. judging her. lines scrawled in the margins like “it’s my fault” and “i will never be enough” and “i never stopped seeing it.”

drawings of joel. not always his face. sometimes just his boots, the outline of his shoulders. him playing guitar in the backyard. once, a pair of hands—his—holding hers. the page next to it was blank, but smeared with something darker, wet-looking.

there’s nightmare stuff too. scratchy renderings of dark woods. of hands reaching. of her own face split down the middle. of you, once, too far away to touch.

“can’t forget what it felt like,” she wrote next to a sketch of her alone at a table, head in her hands, white powder ghosting the edge of the frame.

sometimes, she draws her heart. anatomically correct, messy and weirdly delicate—and cracked. stitched up with tiny letters. your name. again and again. “hold it together,” she scribbled next to one. “don’t let her see.”

you found one like that once. just a glimpse. and she snatched it out of your hands before you could ask anything. just shook her head and mumbled “it’s not for you.” like it would hurt you if you saw it too clearly. like she’s afraid of what it means.

she writes her lyrics in the sketchbook, too—tucked in the margins, between drawings, like they just spilled out of her without thinking. half-finished verses. little poems for you. stuff she’ll never sing out loud but still needed to write down.

“you look at me like im worth something.” “you showed me what real love is.” “don’t know how to be gentle, but i try for you.” they’re raw and messy and heartbreakingly sweet. and they live right next to sketches of your body—like loving you is this chaotic, overwhelming thing she has to get out of her system by every means possible.

she posts her sketches on instagram sometimes, but never the real ones. just a hand in motion. a mouth caught mid-laugh. a silhouette. something cryptic. mysterious. artsy. the comments always go insane: “who is this??” “this looks like album cover material omg” “is that y/n??”

but you already know.

her art is another language entirely—one made of ink stains and graphite dust and pages warped from being clutched too tight. it’s the truth, stripped down and shaking. it’s everything she can’t say out loud. and through every smudged line, every fucked-up detail, every sketch she hides from you—

she’s still telling you.

IMPORTANT: all of these drawings are from Pinterest—credits and deepest respect to the incredible artists behind them. their work captures so much raw emotion and intimacy, and truly helped bring the vision of ellie’s sketchbook to life. nothing but love and admiration for their talent! <33

[crescenthistory]

HIHIHI CONGRATS ON THE 2K!!!

(am i late to the celebration? :( )

can i do an analyze.....like regulus having a nightmare and reader comforting angst to fluff.....theres not enough of him on this platform im afraid and your interpretations are OP

hi darling!! you just barely made the cut off, thank you for participating<33 i'm really happy you like how i write regulus, i always hope to do him justice:,)

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ANALYSE regulus black's nightmares

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: discussions of nightmares, references to abuse and typical black brothers trauma, black brothers angst (with a happy ending), panic attacks, hurt/comfort, light background prongsfoot, kind of implied sunshine x grumpy dynamic

regulus has struggled with awful nightmares his whole life

as a child, he had an overactive imagination and often fled from his turbulent life by hiding away in either his mind or a book, which unfortunately meant that his brain had extensive ammunition to wield against him at night

he would usually either re-experience something particularly traumatic he went through in an exaggerated, mythical remaking, or he would dream scenarios he was scared of having to go through

think walburga but her features are drawn out to the point of looking like a demon or a biblically accurate angel, completely dwarfing regulus as she scolded him

or a repeating one he had is being in his house with his entire family there, but no one could see or hear him

the kind where he runs around in increasing fear and frustration, trying to get anyone to look at me, just look at me!

it hurt more when his friends from hogwarts started making appearances in these dreams, treating him with the same complete disregard as he had come to expect from his parents

regulus never woke up screaming or gasping – if he at all could make himself wake up, it was always a slow thing

his biggest coping mechanism had always been to make himself invisible and unseen, leaning into what his parents expected from him

so even as he dreamed, he would sweat and have tears roll silently, but he wouldn't make a single sound, laying still as rock, only ever slightly trembling

as a very young child, he would have more physical reactions to it all, but sirius quickly helped him learn to discard that to prioritise his safety

sirius' bedroom was right beside regulus', while their parents was on a different floor, and the older boy slept lightly enough to wake at the sound of his baby brother's whimpers

terrified of what consequences reg would face if their parents inadvertently woke up, sirius rushed quietly into regulus' room and woke him up to calm him down

for a few years there, regulus and sirius co-slept more nights than they did not

it was those nights that made regulus cry the most whenever he missed his old relationship with his brother

one day, when regulus has gotten far enough away from it all, he will get to the point of his healing process where he is empowered enough to finally wake up screaming – from then on, he will be nearing the "final" healing stage where he manages to greet the nightmares calmly and get out of them himself

they will never quite stop, never end, but one beautiful day, they won't have any power over him

unfortunately, that day has not come yet

you, on the other hand, had come into his life, and that in itself was a significant change

regulus had never expected to make friends, but then barty, evan, pandora and dorcas changed that notion in him wholeheartedly

then, he expected never to trust anyone after sirius left home and regulus thought himself abandoned, but you came and changed his fate.

you met through the wider web of mutual friends as the slytherins and gryffindors grew closer – regulus couldn't really explain how, why or when, but somehow you quickly made your way into his group of close friends

it was easier around you

he couldn't put his finger on what "it" was. maybe it was talking and sharing, maybe it was living, maybe it was breathing

most certainly it was trusting, because he found himself trusting you just as much as his eldest friends

regulus had certainly never expected to fall in love, but alas; you again

as you held his hand through his reconnection with sirius, as you showed him immense patience in helping him unravel himself for you, as you made him and his friends laugh like no one else, regulus was doing nothing short of falling in love with you

the two of you moved out together after hogwarts and regulus found himself feeling incredibly nervous around you for the first time in a long time, uncertain about how to break the ice about his nightmares

he had been lucky enough to not have had them near you the few times you had slept over and vice versa while still at hogwarts, but when you were sharing your bed in your own flat, it was bound to happen

yet again, you turned his expectations upside down by already knowing

for a brief second, regulus felt a white fiery emotion somewhere between fear, upset and anger at the thought of any of his private information being shared without him knowing

(trauma response king)

but your explanation melted it away, albeit in the form of tears, as you told him how you had helped sirius through a panic attack after he a nightmare once and he had told you

sirius had them too – regulus felt ashamed that he didn't even really know

you told him of how you were a night owl walking around the gryffindor common room at night when you found sirius, who had slipped out of his dorm after a nightmare, only to curl up in a corner alone

you helped him measure his breathing until panicked breaths became painful sobs

you held him through all of it, and hearing that made regulus' heart ache both for your kindness and his brother's pain

as sirius cried, he had voiced how he used to co-sleep with regulus to help him combat his nightmares, but in reality, it had been a selfish indulgence for himself as well

after that night, you had helped sirius talk with james about being able to go to james’ bed after a nightmare or on nights that felt particularly prone

rumour has it the two of them never really stopped co-sleeping after that one conversation

sharing this with regulus helped facilitate a conversation of your own – you set on the kettle, the first kitchen equipment you unpacked, and the two of you settled between boxes

to talk of boundaries, needs, wishes; at first about nightmares and then it became about everything else, too

regulus had grown quite good at not being so unsettled by emotional conversations that he would neglect asking you about yourself; the smile on your lips when he checked in with you was enough to remind him to always ask

the first few nights in the flat were both incredibly rough and incredibly healing

anytime he was in a new place, his nightmares were triggered, which was made especially worse considering what a radical change this life with you was from what he had been raised to seek

his nightmares were vicious and long, he fought incredibly hard to wake up from them

but, with the advice from your heart-to-heart, you were able to gently help wake him up, help him ease his way out of it in a healthy manner

brushing his curls away and kissing his hairline, whispering to him quietly

"you're alright, you're alright, lovely boy"

despite never expecting romance in his life, regulus told you he loved you for the first time through small sobs as you woke him up from his mental torment the third night in a row

you had become the first person after sirius he could trust him to protect him, even from himself

within the first week, regulus sat down to write one of his more frequent letters to his older brother – to thank him for everything he had done and invite him over to visit regulus' new chapter in his new flat with you

[meredywist]

Leah has entered the villa.

[arolesbianism]

Just remembered I actually got a decent amount of followers from isat art recently. Erm. Sorry for the nugget madness that still persists. It will continue to happen <3

[kwc-verlucrey]

Veronica update

My Limstella and Reyson recently found units to eat too... No it doesn't make them any easier to use against meta units

[horse-shit]

2019 me: fuck it heres some guys {oc's}

sometime later: oh even if the concept of regions is gone other than basics {northern, southern, eastern, western, middleton}, I should connect my characters to backgrounds as best i can so i have a better reference for what they'd look like for irl picture references! this'll be so much fun!

me now: ...fuck-- goodb.ye first names you've had since the beginning that are basic boring names... you will be missed....

[kenyummy]

✰ 04. the ballad of a bygone blight.

✰ ꒰ ⍣'ˎ˗ platonic yandere batfam / spider! reader ꒱

✰ 04. fantastic four.

SYNOPSIS : being spidey isn't easy. being transported into an alternate universe where you're nothing but a shadow in your house, makes sneaking around a little easier... until you find yourself the apple of their eye... kind of.

note: had to wrack my brain to remember what math i was learning in seventh grade LMAO . sometimes i forget damian is just a little guy in like seventh to eighth grade. crazy. and please let me know if there's any mistakes with pronouns/gender!!! i want to keep this open to everybody so im always trying my best ❤️

also ive realised how chopped harry is in the comics after taking my rose coloured lenses off. basically he and mj have their look in the ultimate spiderman TV show (in my eyes anyway, i kind of just described their appearance based off tgat lmaooo)

prev. ✰ masterlist ✰ next.

School has never felt so bland for you. Sure, it was never your favourite thing in the world—except for maybe biology—but you'd think that discovering a whole new world in your last year would make it a little more interesting.

It didn't.

It's been three weeks since you crash landed here in Gotham. The most you'd gotten from your family was an awkward "how are you" occasionally, and a lot of staring.

You'd only shown yourself as Spidey a few times to the public, but never stayed for those pesky news reporters shoving their microphones into your face. You'd never liked interviews, anyway.

The only highlight of your long days were MJ and Harry. You'd gotten over the initial shock of Harry being in love with you—convincing yourself that it really wasn't you he liked; it was this world's original you. (Though—that fact still lingers in the back of your mind whenever you talk).

Apart from that, school truly was uneventful. Your kooky art teacher was the only one of whom you actually liked, and it seemed the education here was rather lax. Uncaring. Not good for your future, surely—but you wouldn't have a future here, and you're sure this [name] Wayne will be just fine.

Speaking of schooling—the people here really seemed to hate the Gotham Prep kids. More than what a petty rivalry should be—it was pure malice.

Harry was especially adamant about this.

"They're all dumb, entitled rich kids who use daddy's money to get whatever they want, you know." He stabs his fork into a dry cut of chicken violently. Then points, accusatory, at MJ—who already presents a sneer to him. "And don't you start lumping me in with them—you know I'm not like that."

Her face twists, but soon she grins cheekily. "Okay, fine. Yeah, you're totally not, otherwise nobody here would like you one bit. And who doesn't love Harry, huh?"

"Oh, be quiet," But still, he smiles—damn his head is big. He glances over at you. You're picking around at your soggy broccoli with a frown. "Hey, [name]. Don't two of your brothers go to Gotham Prep?"

You look up at your ginger friend, head tilted to the side before it clicked. Oh, right. Tim and that young boy—Damian, if you remember correctly. Tim barely ever went to school if your diary was still accurate, and Damian had little choice but to.

(Doesn't seem like he'd be the social butterfly type, though.)

"Yeah, they do." You nod, still fiddling around with that vegetable.

"Not that I'm not glad that you're here—but why don't you go to school with them?" MJ leans forward in her seat. "I mean, isn't it easier for siblings to go to the same school?"

Your eyes widen for a second.

There's a few ways you can go about this.

One—you tell them everything you know about your other self. About how you never felt included enough to ask. How you never spent time with them. How it always felt like everything and everyone else was more important than you. How you suffered silently—begging for their attention for years like a house pet becoming a stray.

Two—you could tell them you have absolutely no idea because you have none of your memories of anything from the past years of this life—how you don't even remember all your siblings names half the time.

Or three, and your personal favourite—you can just lie.

It doesn't take a serial genius to figure out which one you chose.

"I guess I just didn't like the rich private school vibe they had going on." A smile falls over your lips. "Plus—you guys were coming here, so it gave me even more of a reason to attend, you know?"

You're not entirely sure that's true. But—if these two were anything like the Harry and MJ you know—then this would probably be right.

Judging from their smiles, your detective skills haven't failed you yet.

"Man!" MJ lolls her head back, groaning. "Can't believe I'm friends with two rich kids who get to choose which school they want—the beat down public or sleek rich private."

"Don't go dissing this school just because you're jealous of their uniforms," Harry snickers, pressing his index finger into MJ's cheek. She huffs and slaps him away.

"Silence, nepo baby. Your dad is basically Lex Luthor if he wasn't bald."

Harry looks more confused than offended at her comment, "Okay, but my dad isn't an evil mastermind plotting against a red and blue suited superhero."

You press your lips together thinly and look to the side, eyes focused on anything but him. Oh, Harry—if only you knew.

Damian Wayne had never truly seen the point of highschool.

Raised by assassains all his life—he had little room, time, and desire to learn about all this nonsense. While he enjoyed arts and fine literature—he couldn't find it within himself to care about the American Revolution, or whatever other ridiculous thing happened in history.

His maths teacher was absolutely, indubitably pathetic. Always on his phone as he assigns mountains of homework (because he never bothers to explain the complex materials they're given) on the latest subject—whether it be those blasted simultaneous equations, or to factorise useless monic trinomials. Even calculating tax and interest on the stupidest of cases.

Damian found himself sitting in the corner of his class in silence, staring down, bored, at the book in front of him. He truly hated math. There's so much real work to be done—crime to fight, plotting organisations to take down.

But his father, as always, is unmoving in his conviction that school is important. For Damian especially, anyway; Drake can skip as often as he likes because he's a senior already. Truly, ridiculous.

For Damian, and—oh.

You.

Bruce always seemed especially insistent on you two going to school. Even when everyone but him knew you skipped every few days and simply come home to wait.

Wait for what? For them?

His brows furrow. Suddenly, the black and white equations on the sheet blur and he zones out. Thinking.

You always did. From the day he'd walked into the manor, you were always there. Unconsciously, he'd notice it. A trait of a good assassin is that they can spot everyone in the room.

A trait of a great assassin is that they can spot everyone inside and watching.

Always, you were watching. Those pitiful stares. Desperate like a unloved pet. If he cared a little more (if any at all), he would've felt sorrow for your state.

Always wanting, but never asking. Never taking. Simply waiting for it all to come to you. He would never understand it. He would never understand you.

He would never understand how somebody could allow themselves to be so weak.

Like everybody else—when he first entered the manor, he proposed to fight you. Assuming—being the child of his father, like he was—you were worthy. That you were strong.

He doesn't know how he could've been so wrong. You immediantly reacted, gasping and clutching your face. He'd nicked it with the edge of his blade after he unsheathed it. You looked at the blood dotting your fingertips, then back at him, eyes wide.

Immediantly, Bruce rushed to his side and pushed him behind his larger, imposing figure—telling you to not interact with him because he's different to regular people. Different to you.

He watched you storm off from behind his father's legs; anger practically blaring off your figure.

Later—he happened to overhear you and Grayson talking quietly. Telling you to not be too hard on Damian, because he's troubled. That he's had a difficult life. At first—he was a tad offended—but that offence could not compare to the absolute fury burning in your eyes.

Though, it all melted away when Grayson's hand ruffled your hair. Like a little kid, you stared up at him, soft and starry-eyed as you unconsciously murmured you'd forgive your new little brother.

Damian dry-heaved. You were so goddamn weak.

So weak, and so normal. Everything you did was completely regular. You were on the same wavelength as the civilians he saved from burning rubble. The same as people who walked down the street, talking about their favourite Justice League member. Who cowered in fear in front of villains—to be saved by those heroes. By him.

You were nothing, and yet everything he could never have been.

(What child does not long for normalcy?)

Damian always thought you were rather helpless, regardless of how regular you were—and seeing you with that bullet lodged in your shoulder—he was right. Not being able to dodge something like a bullet—there was no wonder you never become a vigilante. There was no wonder you needed to be protected.

... Though—he began to think back.

Who did? Protect you; that is.

Whoever it was, they did a pretty awful job at it.

Damian strums his fingers against the hardwood table rhythmically. Face blank but mind running rapidly.

It couldn't have been Todd. No—he seemed to be in a frazzled state of mania when carrying your bleeding body in your arms. Perhaps he too, believed you were safe with the rest of his family.

(Oh how wrong Todd was—he looked livid.)

... Grayson?

No. When he's not in Blüdhaven, he is almost always with the other vigilantes within the family. Not here nor there, and certainly not close enough to protect you.

Not Drake. He never cared enough, despite everything. Not Cain, either. Though the silent protector type—she had too much on her plate to worry about you as well.

Gordon and Brown had their own families to worry about.

And his—your father? The Batman? There was no time for a regular child like you in the Batman's life of vigilantism. Whom he sworn to protect in his crusade now lay bleeding out in his great failure's arms.

...

Did you truly have nobody?

...

Damian couldn't really imagine it. He'd always assumed you had many friends to fill the void that yoir family left with their civilian clothes. ... Perhaps you did. He wouldn't know.

You are his only half sibling. In this world, only he is truly your brother, and you are his only older sibling. Does that not give him the slightest of responsibility?

He'd always been taught to keep everybody at arms length—even his own family. The whole world is out to get the Demon's grandson, then he must fight it. But his father taught him differently.

To protect those who cannot protect themselves—to keep those he cares about safe at any cost.

What of you? He does not care for you in the way an ordinary sibling should. Seeing you so weak, defenceless against him—must mean you trust him in some way.

(It's hard for him to fathom being able to feel so unprotected in a world he was taught was trying to extinguish him at every turn).

Regardless of how you don't belong—or how frosty you act toward your youngest brother—he has a duty.

No matter how hard you try—you can never sever the blood you two share. The others do not have this duty—but he does, because in the end, you are his. None of the others bothered, so Damian must.

You are everything he could never be, he has realised. But in the end, you are blood. It runs thicker in the veins than any water, and that is one of the most important things to Damian.

Seeing that same blood—his blood—spill out of you carelessly—that is a sight he will never bear witness to again.

Damian was the first one out the door as soon as the bell chimed in his ear. His bag slung tightly around his shoulders and textbook under his arm; he rushed into the familiar sight of a sleek, large car.

He shuts the door as he climbs into the backseat (Bruce said he was still too short to sit in the front, much to his son's displeasure). "Hello, Pennyworth."

Alfred glances back at him through the rear view mirror. "Good afternoon, Master Damian. How was school?"

"Same as usual. A waste of time." He clicks his seatbelt shut as the car begins to move. Alfred only hums, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

"I'm unsurprised to hear you say so. I do hope you understand why exactly, you are enrolled in school, however. And why Master Bruce is so adamant about your attendance."

Damian knows. He's always known, because it has been drilled into his head like a mantra. Talia and Ra's Al Ghul weren't math teachers—and most of his time really was spent training and sparring to be the best he could be.

He was not illiterate, nor stupid. Rather smart, actually. However, he didn't exactly learn algebra and chemistry with the League of Assassins.

He grumbles. "I know, Pennyworth. Father cannot seem to stop reminding me that all these things are far more important than stopping the endless wave of crime in Gotham."

If he weren't on the road—Alfred surely would've given him a nasty look. "Master Damian, please—your sincerity is positively slaughtering me."

Damian rolls his eyes, opting to stop this fruitless conversation and look outside the windows instead. At the outside world—the sky already paling to deep auburn shades as they drive through the endless roads.

He watched all the cars moving past; hurrying to get to their destination. Each with their own story and reason for being there. Every single one with their own thoughts and worries. Some with children, others with pets, and some with piles of groceries.

All with their own, individual lives. Including him.

A bus, too. It stops for a moment at a sheltered space, then drives away, leaving a few people standing under the shade.

An elderly lady with a man, presumably her son, walking away with her. A woman with frizzy red hair and freckles dotted over her nose. A few schoolkids—some his age, some older. Clearly from the public school on the other side of Gotham, if only to judge from the scantily clad clothes some of the older students wore—

Wait, is that you?

He sits up—the car slowly coming to a stop at a red light. His eyes don't leave your figure as he presses his nose against the window; observing.

You look around at the people that pass by you—gripping your bag close to your side and rushing into the nearest alleyway.

He waits for a few moments. This red light feels rather long—but what feels longer is watching and waiting for you to come out of that alleyway.

You never do.

Even as the car begins to move once more, driving past the intersection, he crawls as far back as possible to even get a glimpse—but you never show.

Just today, he had decided to be the one to take up the mantle and protect you. Just today, during a boring math class, he has decided that since you are his blood, he must keep a helpless civilian like you safe.

And now you're gone. Are you dead, or something?

(Deep down, his stomach twists at the thought.)

"Pennyworth, pull over." Hid voice is more taut than he had imagined. "Now."

Alfred looks back, glancing at the streets around. He doesn't question the young boy, simply doing as he is asked and pulling over to a deserted parking area.

When he has parked the car, he turns around and sees Damian slipping his Robin mask on—somehow already fully suited up.

His eyes widen, "Master Damian, what—"

"I have something to do. Let Father know I will be back home late."

Opening the door, Damian rushes out and pulls out his grappling hook, swinging onto the nearest building's roof and looking around.

He spots the alleyway you'd run into. It is still. Absolutely no movement nor any looks from passer-bys. He rushes across the roves towards where the dark side seeped into the crack of the buildings.

Maybe you'd taken another way out?

But looking at the alleyway now, it's more like a dip between the buildings to stand in more than anything. It was blocked off on the other side.

So where...???

He drops down, landing on his soles and squinting as he stares around into the dark. There's nothing.

No people, nor bodies, and certainly not anything to indicate anybody was ever here.

Except...

He glances at the wall. Theres a white cocoon-esque oval webbed to the wall. Those same webs he'd seen all that time ago—from that spider. That would show up then leave immediantly. Never staying for longer than they had to.

Dodging all of his and Batman's attempts at asking who you were, and what you were doing in Gotham. Always swinging away into the distance before they could be subdued.

Now, he stares at their ball of webbing and wonders if it truly is an arachnid he's dealing with.

He pokes it, looking it up and down. Then, he sees it. Through the small holes in the webs and the translucent, silk-like material—he finally sees it.

Your bag.

He tears off the webbing faster than he can think, getting the sticky substance stuck to his gloves and clothes; he barely even notices it. He grabs your bag and stares it, swallowing hard.

His mind buzzes with an unfamiliar staticky feeling and he suddenly feels sick to his stomach. Despite all the noise in his ear—his brain is able to comprehend one singular question.

... What did that arachnid do to you?

Clothed fingers digging deep into the leather fabric of the bag—clearly worn down and fading. Old. He would get Father to purchase you another. ... When he sees you next. Because he will.

His jaw clenches hard.

Damian throws the bag over his shoulder and grapples up—swinging onto a building roof and running across.

Running for what, he isn't sure. But what he is sure of, is that once he gets his hands on that arachnid, it will not be kind.

To find out what happened to you—that is his duty as your blood sibling.

He decides that in this life, he will be your protector. In the next, if he is ever given a chance to be normal like you—he will become a doctor. Or perhaps a painter. Or a poet. Maybe he will ask you to help him decide when he finds you and that arachnid.

... Yes, that sounds good.

You cut through the cool wind as you swing through the city. Grinning widely underneath your mask—you don't think you've ever been so happy since you landed here.

You're sure nobody will take your stuff. Even if they do, you could always just get whatever else you needed again. You were far too excited to dwell on the small stuff right about now.

Landing on a rooftop, crouched—you walk down the wall of the apartment complex, and look around for civilians. As he told you—the streets around the back of the building were practically deserted.

You count the amount of rooms from the side, up and down.

"Row 5, Apartment block... 2..." You hum, and nod to yourself.

You tap your necklace and the nanobots all crawl off your body, leaving you in your regular clothes. You land safely on the balcony of the room you were given.

You smooth out your flared jeans and take in a deep breath. Then, you bring up your knuckles, and knock.

The glass screen door opens before you can say fantastic.

A small pair of arms wrap around your torso and knock you backwards—you fall on your ass and let out a loud laugh.

"Spidey!!! [name]!!!"

"Is that who I think it is?!" You tease, eyes squinted upwards and the young kid buries into your stomach. His giggles are muffled by the fabric and he squeezes you so tight you'd be inclined to choke—if it wasn't you. "Frankie!! How's my favourite Richard?"

"I can't believe you'd say that, [name]. That hurts." A familiarly sweet voice speaks.

"Sue!" You grin, taking in the sight of the blonde and her husband by her side. You get up—Franklin stumbles behind you—and crash into her arms.

She chuckles, patting your back and smiling down at you, "I missed you too, [name]. You always manage to find yourself in the strangest situations, don't you?"

Reed cradles his chin, "Well, we were technically the cause of this distortion in reality, Susan—"

But seeing the expression on both your and his wife's face; he stops himself. Only smiling sheepishly. "My apologies. It's great to see you again, [name]. I didn't think we'd find another familiar face in a different universe."

"You're getting better at this, Reed." You lift yourself from Sue's comforting cradle and grin brightly up at him. "I didn't think I'd see all of you guys again, either. When you all disappeared for so long—I was wondering if something bad happened."

"Hah! Ta us? You kiddin'? Ya more bug-brained 'den that spider that bit ya!"

"Ben!!!" You go flying toward the rock-encased man and wrap your arms around his comfortingly tough neck. He spins you around and lets you down with a loud laugh.

"'Ey kid, how're ya? Heard ya tackled ol' matchstick 'ere outta the sky!" He slaps his rocky chest laughing—in the corner of your eye, Johnny stands behind him, unimpressed.

He walks up beside you, swinging an arm around your neck and snarks, "Yeah—well, Spidey's always been known for catching people off guard, huh? Creepin' up when you least expect it."

"You're making [name] sound like a villain, Unc!" Frankin, who had found himself attached to the side of your shirt, sticks out his tongue.

Johnny recoils, face falling in pure horror as he dramatically points at the young boy, "UNC??!! I... I'm an Unc now...??? I'm not even 19! I can't be an Unc!!!"

You burst out into laughter at the genuineness of Johnny's expression, watching as he freaks out about being "old". Sue and Reed roll their eyes—while Ben is there with you, laughing his ass off like he'd just gotten a home run on Yancy Street.

Franklin looks at your laughing expression and starts giggling along—jumping up and down beside you with sparkling eyes.

"Stop laughing, [name]! We're the same age!" Johnny points, accusatory. "If I'm an Unc, you're a...!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm cooler than Uncle Johnny anyways, right Frankie?" You grin, picking up Franklin as he cuddles into your neck.

"Mhm!" He nods eagerly.

Johnny sends you a blazing glare, lips pouted out. "You and me. We're—" He gestures to the two of you. "—gonna have some issues, here. Okay. Everyone knows I'm the cool Uncle."

"No, that's Benny!" Franklin points to Ben.

The look on Johnny's face shifts into utter disbelief—Ben falls out of his chair laughing wildly.

"Gosh, I missed you so much, kid." You pull at one of Franklin's cheeks and chuckle. He stares at you in awe for a few seconds, before hugging the side of your head and giggling.

"I missed you too!"

That same warmth fills each crevice and pore of your body, as you huddle close to your dear friends and let yourself feel at home for this small moment.

Meanwhile, in the dark of night, a pair of azure eyes watches, sharp and unnerving in the back of your skull.

You notice it. Of course you do. Your mind is tingling with that buzz—but you want to enjoy this night of nothing but home, even if only once.

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[starkeynation]

Is it casual now?

Content : angst, a bit similar to the scene where Sofia overheard Rafe saying she’s not his girlfriend, inspired by the song Casual by Chappell Roan (may or may not be accurate)

a/n : sorry in advanced i know Chappell is for the girlies also idk if im proud of this but your likes and reblogs will always be appreciated🤍

Part 2

── ⋆⋅˚ʚ♡ɞ˚⋅⋆ ──

It has been exactly 4 months since you met Rafe Cameron, the kook king you never knew you would fall so deeply for. The first time you met him, you were nothing but a blur in his world. A passing figure and a random pogue that was at his party. But Rafe, you saw something in him the moment you met his sparkling blue eyes. You couldn’t exactly tell what it was. Maybe it’s the fact that he looks so handsome even under bad lights, or the way you could listen to him forever every time he speaks. At that moment, you were ready to risk it all.

You made your move that night. The way you charmed him may have made him realize you both were something more than strangers passing through each other’s lives and ever since then, you were both inseparable. Although he said “No attachment,” the first time you both hooked up, you still went along with it, hoping it could be real one day.

Sometimes when you’re hanging out with your friends outside, you would hear some rumors saying you’re just a girl that Rafe bangs on his couch. The pogues call you a loser for still hanging around him but you ignore them and the rumors because most of the time he treats you as if you were someone he couldn’t lose. Just two weeks after knowing each other, he invites you to dinner with his whole family. The way he fucks you in the bathroom while his parents are still at the table, the way he brings you to the country club and shows you off, the way he’s eating you out in the passenger seat, and mostly the way he talks to you, so gently and sweet that got you thinking maybe this isn’t just some dumb love.

You’re at the pub where you agreed to meet Rafe. The sky on the way there was already turning a heavy blue slate, signaling that rain was on the way. You enter the pub and recognize Rafe’s back immediately standing on the other end accompanied by Topper and his foul girlfriend Ruthie. As you are about to approach them, you hear his voice, “She’s not my girlfriend okay, it’s just…casual. No strings attached.”

You freeze. The words land like ice in your chest, sharp and cold. If that isn’t enough you then hear Ruthie say, “You sure about that Rafe? How do your parents feel that you’re living with a pogue,” she smirks, her eyes gleaming with sarcasm.

“I’m not fucking living with a pogue okay,” he says annoyingly.

You have to steady yourself. You could feel your stomach churn as you’re processing what you’re hearing. You can’t believe it. You both never had a “talk” about being exclusive, but you thought you were starting to matter to him and close to making it official.

You hide behind a column in the middle of the pub, trying to decide what to do. Part of you wants to walk away, leave without saying a word, and let him figure out what he’d lost. But you couldn’t just let it go. So you make your way to the table, keeping a neutral face, and try to hold back your tears.

“Hey, there you are,” Rafe smiles, as you approach him.

“Hey,” you say, your voice steady, though it takes everything you have to keep it from shaking. “We need to talk.” Before he could say anything, you grab his hand taking him outside the pub. As you stand outside, it’s already drizzling.

“Whoa, what’s wrong? Can't we talk inside? It’s raining,” he asks, his voice full of confusion.

You let go of his hand and go silent for a moment. He looks at your face that is now about to cry, “Baby what’s wrong?” he says.

“Don’t call me that if you don’t mean it Rafe,” you mutter.

He blinks. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you,” your voice loud now. “Telling them we’re not dating? No strings attached? Seriously Rafe? After these past few months? Is it casual now?”

Rafe’s face shifts, the unease creeping into his features. He clears his throat, trying to smooth over the tension. “Look, I thought we’re on the same page here-“

“Same page? What same page are we talking about?” You cut him off. “I thought you were starting to look at me differently now Rafe.” You fluster. “Oh and not to mention calling me a pogue? I thought we’re WAY past that..”

He sighs, scratching the back of his head. “Ok about that I'm sorry kay’. I didn’t mean to call you a pogue just, you know…Topper and Ruthie, they caught me off guard. And you never really talked about anything more serious, so I figured we’re just not together.”

You could feel the heat rising in your chest. “I never talked about it? Oh so now I’m the one to blame? Are you serious?” Your eyes narrow.

He pauses, trying to find the right thing to say. “I just…I’m happy with the way we are right now. I’m not-“

“Not what? Not ready to be in a relationship? That’s bullshit.” You cut him off again, not wanting to hear any excuses. “How can you stand there and say you’re okay with this? After all the plans we made, the endless nights we spent?” you continue, meeting his gaze that looks unbothered. “You know what…I can’t…yes, I tried to be the chill girl who holds her tongue and gives you space but not anymore. No, I’m done,” you say, trying to walk away.

The rain is getting heavier now, and both of you are soaking wet. “Wait,” he calls out your name. “Just wait okay…I’m sorry I hurt you, yes I would be lying if I said this doesn’t mean something but just give me time okay, I just…I can't do relationships right now,” he says, grabbing your wrist trying to stop you.

“No Rafe,” you shake your head, a tear runs down to your cheek. “I’m done waiting. It’s hard Rafe…It’s hard being casual when my favourite bra lives in your dresser and it’s definitely not casual when I’m always on the phone talking to Wheezie like I’m her sister,” you swallow, biting your inner cheek trying to keep your emotion in check.

He gives a small dismissive wave, like I’m overthinking things. “Well I did warn you no attachment, y/n,” he says, with such cold detachment, as if his words are nothing more than a simple fact, devoid of any emotion.

You look at him with disappointment crawling up to your throat. He isn’t even trying to make it work, not even pretending to care about how you feel. You hate the fact what he said is true, he did warn you not to get attached and you hate yourself even more for dragging this on for so long. You stare at him for a moment longer, “Fuck you, Rafe,” then you turn and walk away to your car. There is no use in arguing with someone who has no intention of changing their mind. If this is how Rafe sees you, then he is not the guy you think he is.

Maybe he is okay with keeping things casual but you deserve more than that. Rafe Cameron can go to hell.

[tothosewhoyearnforit]

am i yours or are you mine - chaewon

-im back. might edit this later

-trying to finish my drafts so maybe have hope im posting more.

-2373 words. student-teacher relationship. daddy kink. oral. deepthroat. pussyeating. unprotected sex. breeding? creampie. happy bday chae chae !

Am I yours or are you mine?

Chaewon asked that question right before she was bobbing her head up and down on your length, a mixture of drool and precum trailing, dripping down onto her skirt.

You look at the neatly decorated bed, the work of none other than you. Illegal as it is for a professor to be in a student’s dorm room without any prior permission, any risk is worth fucking Chaewon. It's even riskier considering the fact that her roommate, Yunjin, shares the same room as her, could waltz in at anytime.

But you know she won’t tell. After all, you're dicking her down too. Gosh, her lips, so meant for dick sucking.

You look at the gorgeous slut squatting for you obscenely, her legs spread as she slobbered over your meat, dressed in her school girl outfit, feeding even more to your ill desires.

Was it really her birthday? Or was this “present” for you?

She unsheathes your raging erection, and rests your cock on her right cheek, stroking your length while staring at you.

The sheer size of your cock against her face was feeding into your size kink way too much, it was almost like one of those porno pairings where a burly buff dude fucks the brains out of the tiniest pornstar.

“Aren’t you unusually hard today professor?”

“I- You’re just so hot today Chaewon…”

“It’s the student outfit isn’t it, you sick pervert.”

She chuckles at your stammering.

“Looks like my reward is about to be a big one.”

And with that, she goes back down on your length, this time wrapping your arms around the underside of your thighs and increasing the pace at which she gobbles your length up. The amount of sticky, viscous liquid that's dripping down from her chin secretes at an even greater rate and your mind is practically going wild at the mere sight of your student slutting herself.

“Oh, fuck, Chaewon…”

Toes curling, head thrown back, it’s only been a week since you both last fucked, yet it felt like forever.

“Are you close daddy?”, she asks as she takes your shaft out to take a breath. Her pearly round eyes stare up at you and you realize the innocence you're destroying. She then sucks on your tip for a good few seconds, that tongue of hers being used to lick so accurately at your slit that you feel a prickly sensation rush down to your toes and fingertips. Then, she pushes her head down all the way and hollows her cheeks out, her tongue now making lazy, sloppy movements on the underside of your length. Her hands peel yours off from your awfully tight grip on the bedsheets and place it at the back of her head, gesturing for you to push her head down.

“Fuck, Chaewon, gonna shoot my load so deep down your throat…”

You push her head down till you feel her tiny nose on your pelvis and your balls rest on her chin. She’s so ready to choke on your cock. So ready to accept your load. In her warmth, your cock is throbbing like mad.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking cumming down your throat Chae!”

Her hands tighten their grip on your legs as she braces for your load. And as if saying a prayer, all your lips mumble out are feeble mentions of her name.

One spurt.

After another.

And another, as she slowly removes herself from your cock, her suction never ending.

She opens her mouth while cum is still spurting out of your tip and a splash of the pearly white liquid lands on her cheek. Inside her mouth, a pool of potential kids get sloshed around by her playful tongue before she gulps it down and savors the taste with a resounding “ahh”.

“Thanks for the thick, warm load daddy.”

She uses her finger to swipe the cum on her cheek into your mouth.

“But I’m going to need a rough fucking tonight.”

She peels her thin black thong off and places it in your palm. It's full of moisture and warmth, the naughty student is oh so ready for her private tutoring.

After climbing out of her shirt and skirt, she lies on the bed and spreads her legs and with two fingers, spreads her pussy lips. She’s inviting you in, like a deer on a barren flowery field and you’re the wolf, ready to pounce.

“Come give your favorite student a nice hands on lesson, professod.”

“Such a disobedient student, always teasing the professor.”

You climb onto the bed, and dive your head right between her inviting legs. Her legs instinctively close up on you, like those of a Venus flytrap, but you use your hands and push them away, spreading her legs even further than they were before.

“I just shaved yesterday, just for you, sir.”

“Such a good girl, but a bit of hair isn't against school rules you know…”

You place gentle loving kisses on her inner thigh before running your tongue against her slickening heat.

“I’ve missed my favorite student's top tier pussy so much…”

“Oh, fuck…That’s it daddy. Ravage my pussy.”

Chaewon is just like how you were not too long ago, a whimpering mess, at the mercy of the one giving head.

She tastes so good, a complete diorama of flavors hitting your palate at once. Sweet like a sakura with a hinge of bitterness reminding you how lewd and taboo this very act of eating out your own student is.

You feel the vibrations she sends as her hands are unable to support her anymore as you probe your tongue deeper and deeper into her slick, causing her to lie back onto the hotel bed while her hands find your head, her fingers running through your hair.

Looking up at her, you can see her toned body, her abs, her perky tits, it seems like basketball is doing its magic in keeping her fit. You look at her hard nipples heaving up and down as a result of her heavy breaths and you can't resist bringing your hands up and giving those nubs a pinch.

“Fuck, wait, sir. I’m so sensitive right now.”

She’s moaning more and more now. The walls of the dorm room might not be thick enough, and a professor leaving the student dorms so late at night? Surely someone is going to suspect something.

The next dorm room definitely won't say anything, that's for sure. It belongs to another two of your cock slave students, the Japanese duo of Kazuha and Sakura.

Heck, you’re even banging the milfy dorm keeper, Tiffany.

Maybe to escape, you’d just have to fuck your way out of the dorm building.

You’re probing your tongue even deeper now, sucking on her clit as well. Every drop getting past your lips is so damn addictive that you can't detach yourself for anything other than to inhale.

“Fuck, daddy! I’m gonna fucking-!”

Her back arches further than it ever has, as she climaxes. Her body convulses due to the stimulation she’s received, and instinctively, her legs close around you, thighs squeezing your head shut, the flytrap of Venus herself secreting the sweet substance for the poor fly (you) to be devoured by.

Akin to the fly, you're sucking in all the precious Chaewon juice, her little “ahhs” and tiny aftershocks showing how good of a job you're doing.

“Oh… That felt so good.”

She’s heaving sighs of relief, slowly calming down from her high. But you. You fucking rock hard, as if you didn’t just shoot a pent up load down her throat.

You flip her over to doggy style in a horny hurry and she yelps in surprise.

Running your finger between her pussy lips, you trace your way up to her puckered asshole.

“Since it's your special day, I let you choose which hole gets destroyed first. Your tight little pussy getting a fresh load shot straight into your womb? Or this tight fuckhole that’s sure to leave you unable to sit properly?”

She looks back at you.

Both are new options to her. She hasn't felt a warm load all the way in her womb since you always keep a pack of condoms in your drawer at the staff room. And anal always requires lube which neither of you want to bring around.

“I’m feeling dangerous today, prof. How bout I take the pill tomorrow morning, but you empty all the cum you have into your favorite student pussy?”

“I would love nothing more, my top slut.”

Lining yourself up behind her, you give that perky little butt a cheeky slap.

“Such a cute butt, always teasing me as you walk into class.”

“Is it really teasing if you pound it senselessly afterward?”

Chaewon deprives you of the chance to savor the initial penetration, slowly pressing her hips into your pelvis as your tip parts her folds. Your hands find their way onto each respective ass cheek, holding on for stability as you inch your way into her tight pussy.

“Always so fucking tight and warm for me. Feels exactly like a virgin’s pussy. That’s why you're my favorite cocksleeve.”

“Thank you professor. Kazuha kept saying you liked her pussy more. I found that so hard to believe.”

“In terms of folding her into the lewdest positions possible, nobody is beating her. But your pussy is so tight that you don't need any positions.”

The way her walls of muscles wrap around your cock makes you dreamy as you pick up the pace and thrust your hips even more in her.

“Ah, fuck! So fucking big daddy!”

Soon, your hips are donning a mind of their own, thrusting mercilessly and harshly as the slapping of skin on skin becomes more and more frequent. Your mind is sending messages to your mouth, but all you can make out is “fuck” and “ohh”.

When she looks back at you, she has a face full of bliss and lust, a small indication that you can go faster, destroy her pussy with less hesitation.

It really begs the question again.

Am I yours or are you mine?

You give her right ass cheek another slap. The red hand print becomes more and more prominent, just like how loud her screams are becoming with each slap. There’s no need to worry if she’s feeling hurt or not, because you know for sure that her mind is in a state of only euphoria, drunk on your cock moving in and out of her pussy faster than she can think.

“Such a good slut. Willing to spend her birthday with her perverted professor rather than her friends.”

“Nothing beats your cock daddy. Nothing.”

Those words fuel your engine even more, giving you renewed energy to go faster.

“DADDY!”

She screams ever so obscenely. Anybody studying or sleeping would be sure to be in a state of shock.

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum so hard over daddy’s dick.”

You put both her hands together behind her back, handcuffing them with one hand of your own, then pulling her towards you till your face is buried in her neck and you can whisper against her neck.

You can feel the sweat that has collected on your two bodies, a result of your hot, intense lovemaking session.

“Then cum baby girl. Cum as much as you want.”

You make your thrusts as fast as you can possibly go, and the sounds she makes sound like a jackhammer go ham on the ground.

“Yes, daddy, yes, yes, yes, yes. Fuck your slut stupid daddy so you can teach me all again.”

You feel her muscles tense up for that brief moment as she finally cums. Her core is no longer even trying to keep her in that kneeling position. She is squealing, squirting, spraying her slick juices onto the walls and onto your cock as you hold onto her to keep her upright.

But your thrusts never cease, as you can feel the throbbing of your cock once again, a huge climax on the nigh.

“Cum in me please daddy. Shoot your load deep in me daddy.”

You’re so fucking close.

“Think about how you might get your favorite student pregnant, sir. We could become fuck partners for life.”

And that about does it for you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”, you growl, the intensity of your voice matching how hard your hips are thrusting, smacking her butt.

You don't even make it back in fully before the cum starts shooting.

Your thrusts are now timed according to your spurts of cum, Chaewon moaning with each lazy thrust of warm semen that she feels getting pumped to her womb.

“iloveyouiloveyouiloveyoumylittleslutstudent” is all you can muster into the crook of her neck while Chaewon replies with whimpers and heavy pants.

The throbbing finally subsides, and every fiber of your being finally registers how vigorous you have been fucking your student and fatigue kicks in. You let go of your grip on her hands and let her slump on her bed, before you eventually join her.

“Feels so fucking warm daddy…”, she mutters in between heavy breaths.

She sits up as you stay lying down, body completely exhausted. She gets into the same position she did when she first got onto the bed and spreads her pussy lips for you again. The fresh, warm cum that you just deposited, slowly spilling onto the sheets.

Chaewon pushes two fingers into her creampied pussy and scoops some baby batter up and licks it off her fingers, before scooping any spillage and pushing it back into her pussy.

It’s such a lewd sight that you feel your cock twitching back to life.

“You might have just knocked me up, professor.”

She looks briefly at the digital clock on the wall.

“It’s Thursday, meaning I have no lessons tomorrow.”

Climbing over you, facing away from you such that her ass is staring right at you, she spreads her cheeks apart, showing you her asshole clench and release. She looks back and smiles.

“You’ve completed just 2 out of 3 of the lesson module daddy. Time for the final teaching right daddy?”

It’s bout to be a long fucking night.

[imnotkaizer]

BRAT p.b x reader II

summary : after a love and hate intimacy with paige, your stuck between confusion, in a situation where your resisting each other. PARTI

warning : suggestive, unsolved feelings, degration, reader is a big ass brat, paige is pissed. jealousy. boys😔

Having paige knuckle deep inside you was not on your list, you never expected it assuming the hate deamenor the both of you have shown each other. and the forced attention for her since past was something you never took a big deal for.

While at lunch, the both of you stole glances towards each other, the lingering sensation of your shared intimacy last night still deep in your body. the sudden sex you guys had made you confused, especially since shes kinda giving you a silent treatment for no reason at all.

"you have grown so much, beautiful lady" paige's mom commented and you smiled looking over at her "thank you maam" she laughed and continued eating, as the situation was already worse, your dad decided to make it more worse.

"why are you and paige so quiet?" you tried not to roll your eyes and huff, not wanting to give out more attention. paige looked over at you and smiled "just sleepy, we didn't sleep that much last night" the double meaning of her words made you want to slam your head in the table.

"yeah...we made it home super late.." you breathed out trying to explain more for no further questions.

lunch has finished and you followed paige in the kitchen while she was washing dishes, she volountered on washing the dishes earning a praise from your family making you gag.

paige turned her head to look at you her eyebrows raised. you walked closer crossing your arms giving her a dirty stare which made her frown. "the hells your problem?" your jaw dropped putting your hands up. "woah." she rolled her eyes. "just checking" you shrugged and paige clicked her tounge. "im clearly doing fine." she hit back and your shocked, i mean you have never felt someone talk to you this way and look how the miror changed.

she wiped her wet hands on a small towel crossing her arms looking directly at you with an attitude. "whats wrong with you?" you quickly snap frowning and she smirked. "whats wrong with me?" she walked closer to you. "yes! you left me last night and now your ignoring me!" she shaked her head and leaned down to your level. "you really think i was gonna let you cum?" her expression was firm and you clench your jaw.

"thats not my fucking point!" you shouted making her flinch. she backed away and let her hands rest on her waist. "whats your issue then?" you walked closer to her "your ignoring me." she stopped for a second and laughed. "seriously? you know thats the issue with you, all the fucking attention you want them all on you huh? is that it?" her words hit straight to your heart she called you out and it was accurate, you felt a guilt and anger, mad from the fact that she was right.

"shut up!" you shouted and she was quick to grab you jaw giving you a shot glare "shouting at me?" she bit her lip "didn't i tell you to stop being a brat last night? or should i fuck you again for that shit to go through your head?" you stayed quiet swallowing all the words you want to let out, right now she was taking control.

"yes.." you breathed out, she raised her eyebrows squinting her eyes trying to fully comprehend if she heard you right. "what did you say?" you felt her warm breath on your face and you squeezed your eyes shut. "i said fuck me again.." you whispered out and she laughed shaking her head "open your eyes, look at me directly while you say that." she state tapping your chin and you opened your eyes focused on the way she was looking at you up and down. "fuck me again..." you managed to say this time it was quieter. " you really have no shame dont you?" she looked at you mocking a judging tone. "if you beg i'll consider-" she was cut off by my mom walking in the kitchen. "girls! i have been calling the both of you! go pack up and we'll go the beach." you raised your eyebrows groaning "mom the beach is so fucking far!" you shouted and paige pinched the side of your waist making your squirm.

"we have reserved a hotel dont worry, pack up you two." she left clearly not taken aback by your bratty attitude. you looked at her up and down rolling your eyes running to your mom. she promised her self she will defienately do something about this later, you saying that you want to be fucked by her again was all clear.

you finished packing up, and you sighed looking at yourself in the mirror, wearing a red bikini a black crop top and a black short on top. you just put on a lipbalm since you already looked like a snack anyway 🤭

looking over at your luggage big as hell, you shaked your head "im not fucking carrying this." you scoffed "dad!" you shouted and few minutes, paige walked in your room. and you swallowed your saliva. "what?" she walked in closing the door and you frown "your my dad now?" you crossed your arms and she leaned to the door. "your dad is fixing the car right now. tell me what you want." you shrugged and carried your luggage. knowing paige, she wont let this slide, she knew you hated carrying things and at this moment she knew you expected your dad to carry your luggage.

she opened the door for you and you muttured something once you passed her, which she clearly heard "what was that?" you shaked your head looking at her. "norhing." she nodded and followed you, your prayes have been answered when paige's dad saw you "oh little girl, let me carry that" you let out a pout and paige scowled. you followed her dad while he carried your luggage to the car.

once you and paige are in the back of the car, while her dad drived, throughout the drive paige's hand caressed your thighs, you would move it closer to your core but she would quickly pull away and glare at her dad to check if he saw but was defienately focused on the road.

once you have arrived, you wasted no time and jumped on the pool on the hotel both you and paige are staying, your mom has reserved a hotel just for the two of you, paige plopped herself down at the queen bed looking over at you, with only just a bikini. paige cursed under her breath watching the sunlight hit your skin.

she decided to go out leaning on the glass door. you looked over at her, and it really looked like she was checking you out, your smirked getting out of the pool walking towards her. "you look like you wanna jerk your self off right now" you laughed looking at her. "do i? shit sorry tried really hard to hide it though" she let out a chuckle lookig at you up and down licking her bottom lips.

you walked closer to her your warm breath hitting her face. just as she was about to lean in for a kiss a knock on your door distracted the both of you. paige's mom smiled at the both of you.

"come down at the booth, we will be eating there, omg! you look so good!" she exclaimed when she looked over at me. earning a laugh from you.

Time has passed and all of you have already eaten dinner. it was already night but the moonlight was so bright. there are few people whos around you, most of them are some people who's a close friends.

you sat down by the scorching fire feeling the warm heat. you still had your bikini, paige was sitting down infront of you talking to some of her siblings while taking glances towards your way time to time, giving you small smiles, bit that smile immidiately faded when some group of boys have invited you to play volleyball, since there was a big light displayed in your area, it was easy to play.

you decided to play to pass some time completely ignoring the way paige was glaring at you.

While you played, some boys are very touchy with you, when you moved back slightly a hand will reach your waist, but being too focused on the game you payed no mind to it. but paige defienately mind it too much. when it came to the point where they became too touchy to bare for paige's sight, she yanked your hand and dragged you back to your hotel room. your taken back from her actions also causing the boys to stop and look at the both of you. once both of you have reached the elevator she grabbed your jaw making you look at her. "what the fuck was that?" she tilt her head. eyebrows furrowed teeth gritting, she looked seriously mad and all you could do was raise both of your eyebrows because you seriously didn't know. "what did i do?" your eyebrows furrowed and she shaked her head looking down.

once the elevator opened she was quick to drag you to your hotel room, swinging the door agressively and shutting them loud enough for the whole building to hear. she pinned you to the door her grip on your was seriously tight her eyes having a scary demeanor as you bit your lip.

"acting like a total slut out there? lets see how you'll be acting now."

A/N : LMK if you guys want part 3 for this (gotta beg for it tho) 😋 jokeeeees 🤭 part 3 may lead to angry sex.

TAGLIST

@janaelalfysloml @gabbyygoo @brenwritesss @addl0vee @sharksmom69 @bellaprintz25 @leiyanzyves @belsouza21 @apbueckers @loviingsunflower @luldejamleer @simpf0rriddle08 @paige05bby @scarrr5 @shootingstarrrrr @rosemariiaa @leslienjazzy @liviyy

[satkru]

੭* ‧₊° ichigo kurosaki x male reader

*๑♡՞ . rough sex , enemies to lovers , barely legal adults , little to no respect for one another during sex , raw sex , public sex

p.s . i have literally little to no idea how accurate my writing abt ichigo will be as i've really only watched the series until like ep 8-9(??) i'll probably pick it back up once i find the motivation to but rn im freeballing this 💔

ichigo and y/n had a rivalry known throughout the entirety of the whole school. a rivalry so bad that the administration of the school had to put them on two different floors with two different schedules in order for them to not engage with one another, otherwise it would end in an intense scrabble of sorts.

but that still didnt stop the two from sharing nasty glares at one another from time to time, no one really knew how they started such a rival-ship, but some just say that they stepped on the wrong foot and never recovered from it.

the true reason for such an intense relationship is that they both had an eye for the lovely lady known as Orihime. Her gorgeous orange eyes paired with her flowy ginger hair was a match made in heaven. Both of them could not keep their eyes off of that girl.

but one faithful day, after school had ended and the halls were empty. the two were set up to clean the rooms, with a teacher on the scene of course. Each time they came close to the others proximity, it was like watching two territorial dogs growling at each other, waiting for the other to strike.

but that strike never came as long as the professor was around. Eventually, the period of peace had to come to an end, as the teacher exclaimed they needed to use the restroom. "dont you two dare lay a hand on each other while im gone, or else you two are suspended for the rest of the year", the words burned into the nerves of the two.

"so, do you still like orihime" y/n asked as he swept the remaining dust on the floor, "why is that any of your business" ichigo spat out, a hint of anger laced his tone. "just wondering, you know. she has been looking at me twice now".

ichigo gripped onto the handle of his own broom, trying to contain his anger. "shes been getting quite.. close, to me" y/n said with a chuckle, he knew what he was doing was ticking off his rival, but the sensation of pissing someone off just called to him.

"she asked me to go to her house today, but dont worry, i'll make sure to save some space for you" kurosaki couldnt hold his jealously anymore, although he knew y/n was bluffing, the thought of him with his crush agitated him. and with that, he found himself throwing the broom across the room, almost hitting y/n in the process.

the man grinned, an annoying feature ichigo had always hated whenever he and y/n got into disputes. "uh oh, did i make sweet kurosaki angryy" y/n said with fake innocence in his voice, pouting his lip and laying a finger on his chin to enhance his "sweetness".

"shut your mouth already" kurosaki growled, his hands clenched into fists as he watched y/n continue to piss him off. "you'll never be with such a girl, soon enough, she'll be begging for me and my dick soon, her pussy will remember the shape of me and make enough room to fit me. she'll never think of you again after i go over to her house."

each word out of y/n's mouth pissed ichigo more off than before, his eyes were glued to the floor to not meet eyes, otherwise, the situation would get out of hand. the teasing man began walking towards kurosaki, his face still in an annoyingly smug expression.

"c'mon kurosaki, look at me, remember my face for the rest of your goddamn life. remember that i'll be the one taking care of who you thought was going to be your future wife." ichigo couldnt take the amount of disrespect he was experiencing, causing him to throw an unexpected punch towards y/n, making him fall to the floor with blood dripping from his nose.

although it was sudden, y/n expected such a reaction, this was all apart of his plan of course. ichigo reached down and grabbed y/n by the throat and pulled him up so they could be eye to eye. "you fucking bitch, youre getting me all riled up for what? huh? do you get off of this?" y/n chuckled dryly, "and what if i do?". such a response threw ichigo off guard, causing him to receive a heavy punch to his cheek.

"dont tell me youre gonna kink shame me, kuro" ichigo steadily hoisted himself up with the help of the desks, his breath more heavy than before. "god do you ever stop talking" the ginger haired man whispered under his breath, barely audible but still loud enough to be caught by y/n's hearing. "dont be so mean ichi-" before he could finish his sentence, kurosaki lunged forward and managed to grab a hold of y/n's hair, twisting his hair enough and slamming his face into the desk.

"i can see you've gotten a bit more intelligent when it comes to fighting now, is that black haired girl training you?" kurosaki froze, how the fuck did he know about rukia? ichigo tumbled over his words, trying to make up excuses and babbling on about stories that made no sense. "you know, there is a way to keep me from outing you" y/n said, his voice drenched in hunger and lust. the ginger sneered, "oh fuck it"

and with that, ichigo hurriedly unbuckled his belt and shuffled his boxers down. leaving no room for hesitance, "god, all of your teasing has made me rock fucking solid.." kurosaki said as he watched his own cock puylse and twitch. y/n hummed as he too began to undress his lower half, slipping ichigo's hard on between his ass.

"i cant take anymore of your games" ichigo growled as he then thrusted himself into his once rival, earning a loud moan from him. each thrust was ravenous, filled to the brim with both anger and frustration. "youre so tight.." kurosaki groaned, his hand intangled with y/n's hair strand then sharply pulled back, earning another ear piercing moan.

"yes..! just like that ichigo! fuck me harder!!" y/n screamed as he reached back to spread his ass more, helping ichigo's long and hard cock reach more places y/n didn't even think could be reached. both kurosaki's and y/n's loud and lustful noises could be heard throughout the entirety of the hallway.

"you never were actually after orihime were you.. fuck.. you were after me" ichigo said with a strained voice, his time was ticking and he knew it. y/n's obnoxiously loud noises never quieted down, instead, they grew louder, more hungry for action. "use me ichigo! use me as if im your sweet orihime! fuck my ass as if its her pussy!" y/n yelled on the top of his lungs, his body was becoming heavier and sweat drenched him entirely.

"im cumming..! goddamn your tight ass feels too good!" kurosaki exclaimed as his grip on y/n's hip grew tighter, and his hand incased in the locks of his rival began to waver in strength. "youre going to take my cum.. like the slut you are. do you hear me?" y/n eagerly nodded, feeling the knot in his own stomach begin to untie.

with a few more ass-reddening thrusts, ichigo's load quickly filled y/n's hole, traveling deep through his guts. as ichigo was dumping his cum into y/n's ass, the once smug and arrogant man was at his own witts end. spreading his own cum across the desk in front of him and crying out in pure bliss.

the two men stood in silence, the only thing heard being heavy breathing and the squelching of cum escaping y/n's ass. "dont think.. that im done with you yet y/n.. meet me at my house tonight, 10pm sharp.. got it?" ichigo said between huffs. "got it..!" y/n said with cheerfulness in his tone. he'd finally gotten what he was hoping more, good for him.

[butterfly-ribbon]

still in disbelief about how mizu5 genuinely captures the subtleties of transmisogyny so accurately like nothing else i've seen before especially with the nuances with which mizuki's story is told … all it takes is a single sentence, a few words … i love that the classmates saying that shit don't even … realize how cruel they are, bc that's how it /is/ and bc "oh no, we said something weird to a Normal Girl, that makes us look bad" - transmisogyny is just a punchline to a joke for them, that's how detached they are from their own cruelty and it's really not any different from the 'average' misogyny and how that tends to be a joke amongst boys. what ena ended up being exposed to is really just the classmates' 'boy's locker room talk' leaking out, so to speak? ena's probably heard jokes from people about how unfeminine her behavior is in the past and she quickly spits out "that's not funny" bc ena and mizuki are both "pretty girls" who like fashion and dolling themselves up, and hearing them talk about how mizuki's cute in this way … i'm sure it reminds her of her own experiences with being an 'influencer' - people like her when she shuts up and makes herself cute and appealing and ena must've absolutely received her fair share of comments and messages from weirdos for posting selfies of herself online, but i think what drives this home to me as such a fantastic narrative is the way that they call mizuki "attractive as long as she's not making any trouble and being a pain" bc it really speaks to how trans girls are objectified and only deemed 'acceptable' as long as they make themselves into limpless dolls who are acceptable targets for any form of abuse and misogyny instead of trying to claim their own subjectivity as women, so there's so much crossover in how mizuki's experiences work alongside ena's? but also mizuki faces so much more constant and direct criticism, all her actions and choices so closely under scrutiny.

mizuki loves and appreciates the attention of girls and when she first met ena she saw herself in the art that ena made - ena draws a girl in pain and mizuki goes "she's me". in the scene where mizuki gets outed, ena is speechless not bc she thinks mizuki is "gross" or bc she's mad mizuki "tricked" her? she's just horrified that she just got degendered /by association/ and then had to listen to these boys speak about the girl she's in love with in this /aggressively/ violent way, especially since mizuki has a meltdown, knowing, apologizing for hurting, even as ena would absolutely say "no, i'm sorry, im sorry, please don't hate vourself" bc mizuki feels like she's the one at fault for feeling like ena would assume the worst of her, but mizuki also feels like she doesn't have the right to be angry at people … this is the first time we get to see mizuki's rage and it's so palpable … i love so much that she hates the idea of niigo's kindness being born out of her 'abnormality' as a trans girl … she hates everything about this. she hates the idea of coming out, she hates the idea of having a question attached to her girlhood..

mizuki logically knows that niigo are going to accept her bc they've also gone through so much turmoil themselves and understand what it's like to be on the fringes of society, but she still can't shake off all those intrusive thoughts about how they might only accept her out of pity or consideration bc they feel too bad for her rather than a genuine understanding and the idea that things might change between them bc of that is too terrifying to embrace… such patronizing 'kindness' burns too much for mizuki to accept, so she'd rather run away and shut herself out completely… for mizuki it's like being stuck on a bridge where the only two ways out are ones where nothing changes and this hurts in its own way bc she can't tell how much of it would be genuine and how much would be an act and the other way is them /trying too hard/ to be considerate and this can easily become alienating bc mizuki truly just wants to be "one of the girls" in the most natural sense? she doesn't want to be made to feel like she's being accommodated, but there's also all the guilt that she's been internalizing for being "deceptive" and not saying the truth sooner that further complicates things and makes her feel like she's undeserving of any kindness that she may be offered… even though she genuinely was going to tell ena the truth herself, it doesn't matter anymore bc someone else told her before she even got the chance to do so herself and that's something she actually wished would happen in the past, so is there anyone to blame but herself? mizuki's entire thing is that until now she's been "writing" a fictionalized cis girl version of herself when she's with niigo and obscuring her own transness bc she doesn't want to be treated as an Other or have an asterisk attached to her girlhood bc she just wants to be treated as one of them instead of having to explain herself or prove anything but she has her facade violently stripped away from her in the most traumatic way imaginable and now she's entrapped within dysphoria induced suicidal ideation...

[lovableapocalypse]

over and over

andrew "pope" cody x female!reader

wc: 3.6k (longest fic ive published lol)

summary: pope is let out on parole and seeks you out after 3 years

warnings: cursing, not canonically accurate, suggestive content (but no smut), mentions of canon level violence, childhood best friends/sort of established relationship

a/n: reader has a catherine vibe; but pope's affections fall to reader obvi. this takes place in the season one timeline/early episodes but still isn't 100% accurate. ik im so late to this show/fandom but i love pope and this idea was brewing for like 4 days so hope you enjoy! love u guys

Andrew Cody. Pope. A name you hadn’t spoken in years, but a face you would always remember. One that was ingrained in your mind since the age of 12. As a kid, you had found yourself wrapped up in the Cody family. Janine kept her house open to her children’s friends, and when you met Julia in the 6th grade you attached yourself instantly. 

Julia was a year older than you, but she treated you like an equal, like her best friend. But where there was Julia, there was also her twin brother Andrew. Andrew was quiet and hard to read, even as a young teen, but he was kind to you. The three of you would spend countless hours together, but when Baz began living with the Codys, Julia spent most of her time with him. That left you and Andrew. 

The two of you grew close and he became your closest friend in the matter of weeks. He looked out for you at school and protected you from your rough home life. He was there no matter what. You loved him. In a deep and integral way. He was a part of your life and a part of who you were becoming. 

Janine knew you weren’t stupid. She knew you knew about their jobs. But you never mentioned it. You knew they were criminals, but it didn’t matter. You brushed what you saw and heard under the rug, clinging to the time you spent with Pope.

As you got older you grew more wary of Janine, or Smurf as the boys called her. She asked more and more of Pope and you knew it wasn’t your place to say anything, but you could see the effects it had on him. Her boundaries were almost non-existent with her sons. She asked and they did. 

You wanted no involvement in their crimes. Their “jobs.” Pope never talked about them and you didn’t ask. You’d come over and his face would be bruised, knuckles scabbed, and body scarred. You distracted him. Gave him an escape. 

Growing into an adult you tried to spend less time at Smurf’s. You would see Pope at his apartment or out in town. You wanted to distance yourself from her and she knew it. Despite knowing you since you were barely a teen, she became short with you. More harsh. And you let her. 

When Pope was arrested, everything changed. 

You had only been to Smurf’s once since. Right after you heard. You had rushed to the house, slamming your car door shut and banging your fist on the front door. 

Baz had let you in and you silently followed him to the kitchen where Smurf was- head in her hands. Baz leaned against the fridge and you stood across from her, staring. 

“You let him get arrested.” Your voice was quiet but cold. 

She looked up and shook her head. You knew her words would sting and she would try to make you feel stupid, just as she always had as you got older. “He let himself get arrested. He knew better than to wait. It’s nobody’s fault but his.”

Your jaw clenched and it took you a minute to respond. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night, Smurf.” 

She laughed humorlessly. “You don’t know anything. You’re upset Andrew got himself thrown into jail and you blame me. I get it. You’ll understand in time.” 

Her dismissiveness only frustrated you more and you shook your head. You saw no point in arguing with her. You glanced at Baz, whose head was down, avoiding eye contact. Your scoff was loud as you turned on your heel and left them behind. 

That was the last time you saw her. You tried once to contact Pope in prison, but Smurf put a stop to it. You don’t know how, but you knew it was her. That was your last straw. You loved Pope and always had, but with his mother and brothers standing between you- you were losing hope. Your anger took place and you saw no reason to contact the Codys again. 

With the exception of Deran stopping by to crash periodically, you still don’t know how he found your apartment, you estranged yourself from the Codys. Including Pope. You didn’t write to him or visit him. You convinced yourself that it was over. You didn’t want to be a part of their lives anymore and it hurt more than expected. 

You tried to move on- or so you told yourself. You got a new job. A new apartment. Even went on a few dates. You convinced yourself this was better. 

It was late one evening, already dark outside, when you left work. The office building behind you locking up for the night. You pulled out your keys and crossed the parking lot to your car. The breeze was cool and the street lamps were dim, needing replacing. As you approached your car the silhouette of a man leaning against it caused your steps to falter. You froze, your heart rate picking up. 

You moved the keys between your fingers and took a step back as he pushed off the car. His hands were shoved into his pockets and your breath caught when the figure stepped into the yellow light.

He wasn’t supposed to be out yet. 

Your lips parted and your voice was barely audible. “Andrew.” 

He stepped closer again. He was right in front of you now. He looked older, but stronger. His hair was cut close to his head and his face was stony. 

“Nice outfit.” His voice was hard, unreadable.

You tried not to let him affect you, but you felt embarrassed at his words. You were in nice, business casual clothes. Things you never would have worn before. 

 “I didn’t know you were out.” You respond.

He ignored you. “New job? Looks fancy.” He glanced at the building behind you that you had exited from.

“Andrew-“

He spoke over you. “They let me out on parole.” 

Despite your history, you feel on edge. You didn’t know he was getting out. Or that he’d come find you. 

“When?” Your voice is small. 

“This morning.”

You nod and search his face, but find nothing. You can’t tell what he’s feeling and it irks you. The boy you used to be able to comfort without words, knowing what he needed, looked like a stranger. 

There’s a pause between you two. Three years worth of words and life unknown to the other. 

“Julia’s dead.” His voice sends a wave of nausea through you. 

“What?” 

“She OD’d.” 

You swallow harshly and take a moment to blink away your emotions. “I’m- Andrew, I’m so sorry.”

He just nods and runs a hand over his mouth, taking in your expression. 

“What about her son?” You whisper. 

“Smurf took him in. He’s at the house.” 

You don’t reply. That’s the last thing Julia would have wanted. You remember when Josh was a kid, when Julia would still come around. After Smurf all but exiled her, she kept her kid far far away from their life. 

Before you can respond you see his jaw clench as he stares at you. “You didn’t write. Or visit.”

You don’t speak for a moment, steadying your breath. “I know.” 

He doesn’t reply. 

You continue, “I didn’t want to be near your family anymore. I thought it would be better if I stayed away. I’m sorry.”

It’s a half-truth, but you see no point in blaming Smurf for not contacting him when you didn’t try very hard either. 

He only nods. 

You stand across from him, frozen. Waiting for a reaction or response, but that’s wishful thinking and you know it. Pope had been like this since you knew him. It used to be something you loved about him, but now it scared you a bit. You didn’t know what he was like now, what had happened in the years he was locked up. 

His eyes trace over your form one last time before he stalks past you. His body brushes near yours and you feel his heat for a second, smell his familiar scent. You turn to watch him move through the lot. When he’s out of sight you release a shaky breath. 

It takes you longer than normal to get home that night. Your thoughts are running wild and your feelings larger than life. 

You spend the rest of the week on edge. You move through the days expecting to see him again and it surprises you when you don’t. It’s hard to admit that it hurts. Your past was complicated but completely intertwined. So when you don’t see him for another week, you have to remind yourself you wanted this. You don’t want to be near him- or any of the Codys anymore. 

It’s a Friday evening when you see him again. You park your car at your small apartment and sluggishly move up the stairs outside. 

You freeze when you see him. He’s sitting at the top of the stairs, right in front of the door. 

He looks up, not surprised. He’s expecting you. 

“You’re late.”

“What?” Your brows furrow and a deep confusion runs through you. 

“This is the latest you’ve been home all week.”

You know you should be scared or concerned that he’s been watching you, but all you feel is anger.  

“You’ve been stalking me?” Your jaw is tight. 

He stands and he’s closer than he has been in years. His face is inches from yours and you can feel his warm body heat. 

“No.” 

“You don’t call this stalking?” You huff, voice raising. You continue before he can respond, “Pope, what the hell!”

He shifts awkwardly on his feet. “I wanted to know where you lived.”

You take a deep breath before responding, “I don’t want you here- any of you.”

“Smurf said you haven’t been around since I left.”

“I haven’t.”

“Why?” He sounds genuinely curious. 

You push past him to the door, giving him your back. You feel him turn to face you. 

“Because I don’t want to be a part of that life.”

“You’re not. You never have been.” 

You struggle with the keys in the door. “I don’t even want to be near it- associated with it.”

“That never bothered you before.” 

Keeping your back to him you respond, “Times have changed, Pope. I don’t- I don’t want to be near a bunch of criminals.”

You hope your words will push him away. Offend him or build his walls up far enough to keep you away. 

“Criminals? Jeez, is that what you really think now? No more ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’” 

You know you should just go inside, but you turn to face him. “I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m trying to do something with my life- get a grip on things.”

His face is neutral and he’s silent. Finally, he just gives you a firm nod. 

You quickly step inside before you can say anything else. 

The next morning, after a restless night of sleep, you go for a swim at the beach. Coming out of the water you walk back to where you left your towel, but it’s gone. You glance around but it’s missing, along with your discarded clothes and flip-flops.

You glance around the beach angrily. Someone stole your fucking clothes. You spin and move towards the sidewalk when you spot a familiar green truck. Cursing under your breath, you walk towards it. 

Still dripping and standing only in your swimsuit you approach the car. You notice the surfboards and a bike in the truck bed and glance around for the inevitable owners. 

“Look who it is.” 

You can hear the grin in Craig’s voice as you turn to face him. 

“Give me my stuff back.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You take in his appearance for the first time in years. His hair and beard are longer, his body more filled out. 

He does the same to you, eyes tracing over your figure and face. 

“I’m not joking around, Craig-”

A younger boy walking up next to Deran catches your eye and your words get stuck in your throat. Joshua. Julia’s son. 

You feel your lips part involuntarily as he gets closer. He looks just like her and it throws you off kilter. 

Deran smirks and reaches into the truck, pulling out your towel and clothes. “Looking for these?”

You ignore him and continue to stare at the teenager beside them. You glance at the Cody brothers, “Is that-”

Craig confirms, “In the flesh.” He smiles and claps Joshua’s shoulder. “J, you remember Y/n, don’t you?”

The boy looks uncomfortable and you shake your head. “Leave him alone.” You turn back to Deran and snatch your things back, shoving on your shorts. 

“And don’t steal my shit off the fucking beach.”

As you shove your t-shirt back on you can hear the older boys chuckle. You glance at the young boy again, before turning to leave. 

Deran calls after you, catching your arm. 

“Don’t-”

“Come back to the house with us.”

“Are you crazy? No.” You pull your arm back. 

He huffs and releases your arm, pushing his hair back. “Please. I think it’d be good for Pope.”

You give him an incredulous look. “I’m not going over there. I've barely seen any of you the past three years and I’m not changing that now. I don’t want any part of this, and Pope being home isn’t going to change that.”

“C’mon.” He sighs. 

You glance at J again. “No.”

“He isn’t sleeping.” You know he’s talking about Pope. 

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Deran, drop it.” You snap. “And don’t bother me again.”

Craig sighs dramatically from the truck. “Just get in the damn car, princess.”

You scoff at the nickname, but before you can respond Deran speaks again. “Just come over for a little. See if you can talk to him.”

Your jaw clenches. “I don’t want to see her.”

“Smurf?” Deran raises a brow. 

You nod. 

He laughs softly. “C’mon that’s all water under the bridge. Smurf would be happy to see you.”

“Are you fucking joking?”

He shakes his head and grabs your elbow gently, leading you to the car. Despite yourself, you climb into the back seat next to J. 

When you arrive at the scarily familiar house, your anxiety is at an all-time high. You hop out of the backseat and linger in the driveway as the boys wander into the backyard. You swallow down your emotions and step into the garage, looking around. 

The door to inside the house opens and Baz steps out, jacket in hand. He stops in his tracks when he sees you. His eyes roam over you and your wet clothes and hair. 

He whispers your name, unblinking. 

You return his stare. “Baz.”

“You’re here.”

You nod, trying to keep your features schooled. 

He clears his throat. “The guys, uh, they said they were gonna try and bring you over. I didn’t think it would work.”

You glance away and shrug. 

He nods and steps closer. “It’s good to see you. Really.”

When you don’t respond he continues. “Pope’s out back. He’ll be glad you’re here.”

He stalks off and you watch him climb into his car. 

Taking a moment to yourself before you enter the lion’s den for the first time in years, you take deep breaths. 

You step out of the garage and tuck your drying hair behind your ears, pushing the back gate open. 

It’s shocking how similar it is to the last time you were here. Almost eerily. 

Pope’s back is to you. He’s shirtless and taking a sledgehammer to the firepit at the edge of the yard. You watch his back muscles tighten and move as he swings and breaks the bricks. 

Steeling your back, you move closer to his oblivious form. 

He takes a moment to catch his breath and you speak up. 

“Andrew.”

His body visibly tightens, but he keeps his back to you. He turns slowly, dropping the hammer. 

You keep your breaths calm and take in his appearance. He looks tired, exhausted even. 

“You’re here.” His voice is rough. 

You nod. 

His eyes flick to your wet clothes, before moving back to your face. 

“Baz said he’d fix this while I was locked up.” He gestures to the fire pit. 

You nod and hum in response, crossing your arms. 

After a beat of silence you cut right to the chase. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

He huffs an annoyed laugh. “Did Baz call you?”

“Deran.”

He blinks. “The kid is in my room.”

“J.”

He nods. 

“Then go to your place.”

“They sold it while I was gone.”

You feel bad for him, even though you try to convince yourself you don’t. 

“Can’t you get a hotel or something?”

“I’ve been staying at a motel.”

“And not sleeping?” You raise a brow. 

He shakes his head. 

“Pope.” Your voice is soft and your arms fall to your sides. 

“I thought you didn’t want anything to do with us anymore.”

You shift on your feet. “I didn’t. But then I saw J at the beach, and all I could think about was Julia. When we were all little.”

His nod is tiny but you notice it. 

“You should sleep, Pope.”

You notice his eyes shift behind you and you turn. Smurf stands in the doorway to the kitchen, watching. 

You feel your jaw tighten and you turn back to Pope. 

“Take care of yourself, okay?” You move to go back to the gate, keeping an eye on Smurf. 

You’re halfway up the driveway when Pope calls out to you. You turn and see him exiting the garage, a dark t-shirt thrown over his chest, sunglasses on, and keys in his hand. 

“I’ll drive you.”

Too tired to argue you follow him to the dark truck and hop in the passenger seat. He rolls the windows down and turns the radio up loud. You feel like a kid again. Pope driving you wherever you needed, blasting his CDs with the sunroof down. 

You keep your eyes out the window, watching the familiar town pass. He arrives at your apartment and you unbuckle silently. 

“Thanks.”

He throws the truck into park and pulls his sunglasses off. You watch him for a moment and feel your heart crack. You had missed him, and it hurt now that he was right in front of you again, yet so far away. 

You were an open book to him, it seemed. He opened his door and hopped out and you followed. He walked up the stairs to your apartment and you followed. You even let him take the keys from you and followed him inside. 

He shut the door and you glanced away from him quickly. You moved to your bathroom and turned the shower on. You could see him in the mirror behind you, still near the door but watching you. 

Watching him back, you pulled your t-shirt over your head and stepped out of your shorts. The damp clothes fell to the floor and you reached behind you to undo your swimsuit. You kept your eyes on Pope as the fabric joined the other clothes. After a beat, you stepped into the warm spray of water. 

You knew what you were doing. He knew what you were doing. And just like a bad habit picked up for the one-hundredth time, you heard him enter the bathroom. You heard his clothes join yours on the tile and you relished in the spray falling over you. 

He pulled the curtain back slowly, stepping in behind you. You kept your face under the spray, eyes closed for a moment. His rough hand met your waist gently, tracing almost. You spun around to face him. 

This was all too familiar. A scenario that had happened countless times, but it felt different. More raw. More sensitive. 

His touch was feather-like against your waist. Soft and controlled. Your breaths were airy and erratic. You had spent the last three years convincing yourself that this man was not good for you. That you were better off without him. But you were wrong. Pope was everything to you. He was a part of your soul and livelihood, and you were surprised you had made it this long avoiding him. 

You let your hands fall to his shoulders and move over his chest. His breath caught and his eyes sought yours out. 

His face moved closer to yours and his lips found yours in a familiar, soft way. He kissed you and you felt your heart give in. 

Your lips moved against his and it became more urgent. More frenzied. You hadn’t seen each other in three years. Touched each other. Loved each other. 

His hands found your hair and yours gripped his waist. His lips were hasty against yours and his tongue slipped into your mouth as he pressed you against the cold tiles. You moved against him urgently, a heat spreading through you almost as much as your emotions were. 

You missed his touch. His taste. His attention. 

You moved against each other in tandem. A long-lost dance. Pope was a rough man. He didn’t ask questions. But when he was with you, his armor fell. Even with your bodies clashing and teeth hitting he was somehow gentle. In his own way. 

You let him touch you and re-explore your body. Your movements were familiar yet new all the same. His hands touched and traced and you let yourself fall into him completely. 

After, when the water ran cold and your emotions ran rampant, you stepped out and handed him a towel. He watched you dry off and followed you to your bedroom. 

You lay next to him, tracing his features and counting the scars on his face. Some new, some old. He held you close, his grip almost painfully tight, but you didn’t mind. You found comfort in it- in him. 

His breathing slowed and his eyes fell heavy and you watched as he finally fell asleep. A feeling of nostalgia washed over you, quickly followed by longing. You couldn’t escape him, and you were starting to remember that you didn’t want to. 

[rayroseu]

You know what's sick as hell about the design of the Briar Senates??? It's that their design mirrors the weapon of the Draconias 😭✨

I know they're getting flak rn bcs they feel like "boomers who's against any progress because they value toxic tradition" but i don't really think they're like... entirely evil lol or the root of every bad thing that happened in Malleus'/Lilia's life (though im side eyeing them as one of the perpetrators still lol)

Tbh, removing them would also cause more harm (just some social issues inside the fae society tbh) than good imo, (I know many ppl say this bcs they think removing the Senates would make it possible for the peace between human and faes, but the thing is, the Senates aren't the only group that thinks this way, almost the entirety of Briar Valley does lol so forcibly removing them now would only come off as "Malleus forcing "human ideals" on the faes just because he has spent 4 years with the humans"(plus is the understanding between humans and faes truly achieved if you try to silence one group(even if that group is kinda disagreeable with anything human related lol), plus realistically the faes would trust their fellow faes first rather than some humans,

so for me, Briar Senates doesn't give off the vibe of toxic old people who drags others down in their toxic practices (while that can be an accurate description i feel like it generalizes too much about their behaviour), rather than that, Briar Senates feels more like thorns, like thorns that surrounds Briar Valley, they're not exactly harmful unless you go against them, but ultimately they're still protection for Briar Valley.

Which makes it fitting that their design has a similarity with the Draconia's weapon, they're the thorns that protects the Draconias, even if it means sheltering them.

And, tbh, if the Senates other job is to ensure Draconias lives, they're kinda doing a "decent job"??? If we can assume through Maleficia's (and Malleus' case), since we didnt hear about her leaving the Senate's side, she managed to survive for so long, unlike Meleanor😭 Also could explain why they're so enraged when Lilia arrived with the news that Meleanor died and why they hated the weak bcs what would weakness could protect JJDSJD Kinda wish their hatred against Lilia wasnt that he was a weak bat fae, but rather they doubled down on the fact he failed protecting Meleanor, imagine if Gen. Lilia wasnt as great in magic as the fae nobles were, yet he still managed to earn a position beside the Princess, all that hard work only to fail at the most crucial time, it wouldve make sense in the Senates' side to say, "Meleanor shouldnt have appointed him" (because "he's weak from the start")

oh additionally, this is just my assumption, bcs I felt like the way the Senates recoiled when Lilia hatched the egg was kinda... random?? so this is my made up reason lol Remember, the Senates were adamant that Maleficia should only be the one to hatch the egg because she's a Draconia, but Lilia did it and he's not a Draconia, What if because Lilia hatched the egg, it also affected the development of Malleus?? Like maybe for instance, it affected Malleus' lifespan, maybe he still lives more than one thousand years but he won't live for another thousand years like a pure Draconia because he's been hatched by Lilia as opposed to who they wanted it to be, which is Maleficia, OF COURSE Lilia hatching the egg is heaps better than Malleus dying before being born, but this is just my auto thoughts regarding the random hate reaction the Senates did when Lilia hatched Malleus lol

Interestingly, the placement of the stone of Draconia against the thorns (of the Senates) can also be hinted at their relationship with them??? In Meleanor's case, her stone is on top of the thorns, which may indicate that she's not under the Senate's commands or that its just telling she just lived distantly from the Senates, most importantly her stone is bigger than the thorns which may tell the fact that the Senates worships her because she's powerful and greater than them, and she's not someone who can be trapped/ordered around within the Senates. But, tragically, in Malleus' case, his stone is under the thorns, like its telling that he's under the Senates protection at all cost and his stone is little compared to Meleanor's because he's still young.

I also have a theory that the Senates are part of Briar Valley's land, like its been canonically said that they're the dead faes of Briarland, which makes think that their death is similar to the death of Conall from Maleficent 2, when Conall was buried, his body literally morphed to the land, which makes me think this is how the Senates used to be buried, when they die, they become one with the land, that's why you can't just remove them, when they are literally the Lands of Briar Valley,,,, get it lol

Though this is making me think that if this is the case then Maleficia's city,,, if the Senate's presence are the strongest there bcs that's where they're nearly buried, does that mean around Black Scale Castle is just lowkey a graveyard.... Is that why Halloween is special for Briar Valley bcs they have close ties/respect for the dead and Halloween is essentially about honoring the dead 😭✨

Off topic, but maybe the thorns part of the Draconia's staff may also tell about their age. Notice how Meleanor's staff has 3 twists which may tell that she's atleast 300~ years old, (if each twists signifies a century), while Malleus' staff only has one twist on its thorns which is accurate considering he's only 178 years old (one century).

If this is true, I'm kinda curious about Maleficia's staff... does that mean hers will be convered in thorns (she needs at least 7 twists (7 centuries~ and more) there on her staff 😭✨)

[fleshunger]

helping vi with her t-shots :3

vi x reader, established relationship, fluff, crack (?), masculine titles for vi (boyfriend), idk man i wrote this in 10 minutes, was thinking abt using he/him for vi in this one but decided against it idk how the crowd feels abt that, this is just cute n short silly okay?!!! layout inspired by kitguts and cowgirlvi

a.n: no way I posted after 400 years ok anyway this fic is not supposed to represent an accurate process of a testosterone shot please do not try to recreate at home i have never given myself or someone else a testosterone shot and im not entirely sure how the process works so if this isn’t realistically depicted please excuse me for I am inexperienced

You’re curled up on the side of the couch, mindlessly watching a random episode of Gossip Girl while occasionally scrolling through your phone.

It’s already dark out, and Vi still isn’t home. You know she likes to take her time at the gym, but you’re starting to wonder where she is and what she’s doing since she hasn’t come home yet.

As if on cue, the lock to your shared apartment clicks open, and in strides Vi, slightly out of breath, with her gym bag in one hand and what seems to be a pharmacy bag in the other. Her tan skin and bulging muscles glisten with a thin layer of sweat, making her all the more attractive.

“Hey, I’m back!” she huffs as she tosses her keys to the side, dropping her duffel bag to the floor and running a hand through her damp hair. She’s been growing it out, and you think she’s the handsomest she’s ever been. She lets out a loud sigh before heading to the fridge to chug an ice-cold bottle of water like a man parched.

“Hey yourself, what took you so long?” you ask, your attention entirely focused on her—especially on her moving back muscles. God, she’s so broad…

Vi snaps you out of your trance with her reply. “I got held up,” she says, taking another gulp of water before holding up the pharmacy bag. “Had to pick up my T from the pharmacy.”

“Oh, cool,” you say with a small hum and a slight nod, keeping your eyes on your boyfriend as she walks over to the couch and plops down next to you, stretching out her strong limbs.

“Gonna force me to give you your shot again?” you grin lightheartedly. Vi knows you actually don’t mind at all—on the contrary, you love helping her.

Vi raises a brow and nudges your side with an amused smirk. “You bet your ass I am,” she retorts playfully, making you roll your eyes.

You get up to gather everything you need for Vi’s shot: an alcohol pad, a clean needle, and, of course, her newly picked-up vial of testosterone.

“C’mere,” you command.

“Whatever ya say, Doc,” Vi quips as she lays herself over your lap like a little kitten, clearly getting comfortable.

“Butt again this ti—?”

“Yep,” Vi cuts you off before you can even finish the sentence.

You exhale softly as you grab the small vial. “Why don’t you let me put it in your leg or something normal? It’s like you want me to inject your butt,” you mutter while carefully filling the syringe with the hormone.

“Nah, butt’s funnier,” she says with a cocky grin, clearly enjoying the fact that she’s making you inject her ass.

You flick the syringe to get rid of any air bubbles. “Alright, alright, pants down, weirdo.”

“Someone’s eager to see my ass,” Vi teases as she shimmies down her sweatpants. You have to hold yourself back from giving her a slap or a pinch for that comment. She stops when she’s revealed enough skin to give you room to work with.

You gently grab the soft skin and carefully insert the syringe into her cheek, injecting her with the T.

Vi balls her hand into a fist, one eye squeezing shut. Despite doing this plenty of times, it still comes with a little pinch.

“Ow…” she huffs, her face scrunching up for a second.

You make sure to fully inject the dose before pulling the needle out, giving her ass an appreciative pat. “Alright, there’s your T-shot, big boy,” you say with a smile.

Vi rolls her eyes and pulls her pants back up. “Oh, shut up,” she groans sarcastically, readjusting herself into a more comfortable position.

You continue rubbing the curve of her ass—she sure is blessed in that department, after all.

“Have you noticed any symptoms?” you hum, genuinely interested in your boyfriend’s hormone journey.

“Hmm… well, my acne’s a bit worse, my mood’s kinda short at times, and I’m hairier,” she says with a yawn, looking up at you lovingly. “But my voice is deeper, I’m bulking easier, and there’s definitely an increase in strength, so there’s that.”

She grins, clearly enjoying those two aspects in particular.

“Oooh~! Lemme pop your pimples,” you leer, already wiggling your fingers.

Vi scoffs, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “No way in hell!”

try my recipe boy

[oceanwithouthermoon]

I like your saiteru posts but I can't shake the idea that Teruhashi only loves the idea of Saiki and not actually Saiki, especially since she hated when he gave her a glimpse of himself when he was competitive during their date.

ive seen this take floating around a few times, this whole "teruhashis mental image of saiki is wrong" "teruhashi wouldnt love him if she got to know him" "teruhashi hated any time she saw his REAL personality" and i just dont get it because like...

this scene?? the scene where hes being inconsiderate, rude, not taking her feelings into account, making her play games she doesnt even want to play, acting like a gooner, etc? THIS is the scene you thought was him showing her a glimpse of what hes really like??? where did you get that from?/genq

hes competitive, yeah, but this… isnt being competitive, its just being an asshole. thats not what hes like when hes trying to win. him wanting to win games and show off with his powers is not equivalent to being an inconsiderate tryhard who wants to make everyone do what he wants with no thought to what they want…

but youre ALSOOOOO forgetting that she actually did end up being like… “hehe i still wuv him 😚” after this…

so.. on THAT note, i need everyone to pay really really close attention to what im about to say…

she loves him when hes rude, inconsiderate, pushy, competitive…

she loves him when hes open, popular, kind, powerful, reading her mind…

she loves him when hes gloomy, monotone, boring, quiet…

she loves him when hes a GIRL.

so why is the conclusion here “she wouldnt love him for the real him”? the logical conclusion here seems to be “she would love him no matter what”

WHAT ABOUT THAT DOESNT SCREAM “LOVE”?

and regarding her "only loving his persona the same way people only love teruhashis", i think everything above disproves that anyway but i have to go more into it because not only have you misunderstood me but this also implies you think none of saiki and teruhashis friends truly love them at all 😭

saikis quiet, boring self isnt completely not him. its still him, just a different side of him than you might be used to as a viewer. you guys have to understand that although, yes, he is masking and putting up a front, that doesnt mean EVERY part of him that people see is fake 😭 its the same with teruhashi, she doesnt have a single tangible "true" self entirely on the inside and a single tangible "fake" self entirely on the outside, its NOT completely black and white! PEOPLE arent completely black and white!

youre forgetting that me saying those guys (the kokomins and all those gross ew men) dont love her because they dont know and see her was accompanied by a picture of them literally asking her to continue validating them immediately after she woke up from passing out 😭 they quite literally dont love or care about her, not even about her image, they just like the idea of her image and want her to make them feel good. the whole "nobody sees and knows and loves her" doesnt apply in the same way to yumehara and their other friends, they may not truly see her with the same depth that saiki does but that doesnt mean their care for her is fake, because they DONT care more about her image than just her and being in her company even if they do still see the parts of her that ARE fake.

you cant just take the idea that they fake a lot of themselves around others and morph that into "every single thing people see of them is fake and every single thing they dont see is an accurate representation of their true selves", it just doesnt work like that 😭 regardless of saikis power and silliness and sweetness and competitiveness, hes still a quiet guy with a gloomy face. and regardless of teruhashis cuntiness (lol) and competitiveness and obsessiveness and silliness, shes still a sweet girl who enjoys making people happy. they can be BOTH and thats okay!

this misunderstanding is like youre hearing someones thoughts and thinking "oh what a blunt person" like well... no because not everything in your head defines your personality or is something youd ever want or need to say aloud. everyone thinks crazy things, had wrong initial impressions, etc, do you see my point?? am i getting this across properly??? saiki still enjoys sitting in his house and doing nothing but eating coffee jelly and playing video games and teruhashi still enjoys when she makes people happy, those things arent fake just because they contribute to their fake personas... saiki also would not have been singing and doing standup or whatever the hell people are convinced he wouldve been doing at the mixer with someone hes "more comfortable" with, he doesnt do that shit around anyone 😭 not around his family and not around the psychickers, so im not sure where people got the idea that her thinking he would sit there and do nothing was her not understanding him or that the way he was making the guys act was how he truly wants to act 😭 he can sing and crack jokes but he never has around anyone so we dont know if thats what he wants to do, i dont even remember him making jokes aloud to the psychickers other than being a little sassy ☠️ the most i remember is him making short silly jokes to tease his dad or toritsuka... you guys just assume that hes the type of guy to stand up and sing and yell and make everyone roll over laughing because idk... maybe you cant stand the idea that your fav might not be a sexy loud confident alpha male and might actually be a little guy who loves video games and watching people and being a little brat on occasion ☠️

i feel like this take is just you guys taking both their insecurities SUPER seriously, because what else could be making you think that ANYONE who doesnt know about his powers doesnt truly love or care for saiki??

anyway... it clearly just doesnt matter to her how he acts because she just loves him and enjoys his company no matter what. thats love.