#like I shit you not when I first played as a child i just got stuck on the final boss and that was it

[luvs4matt]

clearing a few things up said by rory in this post.

first i am going to talk about this. when rose kicked them, it was because she noticed the mean behavior coming from the gc she was already in so she kicked everyone else that was also in that gc along with rory.

getting kicked from a gc is not that serious, it’s an oh well moment, but not for rory.

rose blocked her soon after because rory immediately went into her dms cussing her out which below is provided ss of their conversation. she was given the chance to speak to her and she did, just not in the way she should’ve. she did not have to take it to her blog.

next, this.

i was saying facts, not just being rude, that is not the person i am. i was stating that rylee has my same au word for word, 0 differences. i was also using that as my defense for rory sending much hate to my dilf!matt au.

coming to someones defense is actually defending and clearing their name on something when needed, not coming to a girls comments to start issues which becomes harassment, straight insults, and bringing up the girls other friend who had absolutely nothing to do with the situation that wasn’t even a situation before you got involved. (ss here of all reblogs made, all comments can be found under this blurb)

next.

so you and gen just so happen to be good friends and in the same gc while rose and gen had a very public friendship, but you had no mutual friends, nor did you know..? right..

“i was kicked before making the post” so you had 0 intentions of handling it privately! you planned to make a post and start more drama. again.

the jokes about fingering matts butt were not between an adult and a minor directly, and even if it was, that honestly isn’t bad, it is jokes people, not asking a child about their sex life.

you can be harmful to minors when harassing them and leading your friends to do it too! you started at 6pm and ended at 11pm, you ended after i tried to reach out to jules but i was blocked, i tried to reach out to rylee, i reached out to rory directly, i was going to reach out to jules through maria, but then genesis finally answered my message and that is what got you to stop.

i agree, i am not a baby, but my communication was not off. i was not disrespectful before i needed to be and that was shown in past ss which i believe i have now deleted if i remember correctly.

i will not dm you because i refuse to unblock you on any platforms, even if i do reach out, all you would do is try to argue, and quite frankly, i don’t have anything nice to say to you.

next.

this is the one thing rory didn’t lie about. she was not the one to say i was writing ddlg, it was genesis. the same genesis who was requesting a week before hand, and only a day before telling me how much they love and need dilf!matt. they said that because they wanted approval and wanted rylee to like them.

i do not believe i write ddlg because i have my storylines for many things but i do not get many asks actually asking about the au so i have not been able to explain it. or maybe i am just in denial because i get disgusted at some of the things involved in ddlg, idfk 😭.

none of her friends can come at me for ddlg content when the exact words, copy and pasted from rylee’ dilf!matt fic is “once i’m done with my work we can play, jus’ lemme finish first, okay baby?” and the context of this is reader riding him. that is some shit i would never write because that is literally something predators say to little girls.

next.

i never posted anything publicly about rylee until i started being harassed and rylee can tell you that herself. rory was the first to say anything publicly, and was also the one who made it drama, it was not any kind of drama before rory inserted herself.

i really don’t care if i name dropped first, i was trying to get my point across, and people would’ve figured it out anyways.

if coming at someone is politely asking someone why they removed my au credit then they get attitude with me, then i guess i came at her many times.

you did say hurtful things to me, if the things you did wouldn’t effect me at all then why would i go through everything i did after the fact? i will not get into all of these things because i don’t want it to seem like i am looking for sympathy.

i started the au before it became semi common on tumblr, i started it a year ago after searching for 6 MONTHS of anything close to my au on all platforms, no dilf!matt found, none of the same persona, so i made the au and assumed i made it. it came to my attention very recently that i did not fully create the au, but i do still believe i was the first to write him in that way, i was the first to start writing him multiple times instead of just once and making him an actual character, and popularized him on tumblr. it did become a “commonly used au” until recently, not a year ago when i started. i had every right asking for credit of an au that i was under the impression that i started because no one corrected me the whole year. after i was made aware of me not being the first, i reached out to everyone, besides rude bitches, about me no longer needing credit unless inspo was used.

to this anon, i did not respond earlier because i simply did not feel like it, and did not want to deal with anymore of your bs about me “dragging it and always posting about it”, but i will respond here since i bet you are reading this.

all of these posts have been made in the last week which was either only talking about the situation or mentioned it.

all of the apologies were half assed and didn’t mean anything. they either apologized that it was POSTED, copied and pasted apologies, used memes, or blamed others on tumblr.

my own personal notes.

everything with maria has been cleared up on all ends, but for her sake, please do not mention her in any posts or mention her in any of these drama posts. this is just a precaution so nothing of these sorts interfere with her mental health. if you have any questions, you can come to her yourself, but if you are not nice and don’t approach it correctly then you will be blocked and i will be fighting you 🩷 (i’m joking chat… but not really)

same thing goes for rose. please do not mention her in posts made, i don’t like seeing my friends mental health being ruined over tumblr so please do the same thing for rose as maria! if you have any questions regarding both of them, they are both open to answering if approached the correct way, if for some reason you do not have access to ask them said questions, then you can message me and i can ask for you.

tags — @cvnntagiouss @bernardsbendystraws @mattsmatcha @nickssidewitch @nickspennies @mattysangelgirl @y3sterdaysproblem @chrisspussygang @tripoutsweirdos

[cathy-histories]

HATE ME

Pairing: Jinx/female reader, Jinx/original character

Synopsis: Two broken girls under different circumstances. Jinx and Circe knew each other since childhood, but never liked each other, nowadays they both hate each other and enjoy their constant fights and arguments. If either of them were to develop romantic feelings.... they would never say so.

W.c: 3.3k

A/n: Hello, I hope you like my first publication! English is not my first language so I apologize if you see mistakes and feel free to point them out to me, comment all you want to let me know your impressions <3, I'll be there to answer you.

If you want more stories between jinx and circe let me know in comments, remember that now jinx owes her a date. 😏💖

---

The streets of Zaun were exactly the same. The constant twilight clung to every corner of the endless space. The natural light barely filtered through the structures of rusted metals and the industrial pipes towering above the heads of the people, casting a scene that was abandoned and unhealthy.

Jinx's robust black boots slid lazily. She wore a black hooded blanket, hiding her identity from the locals who immediately recognized her. Lately, she hated going out; she would have preferred staying at home setting up new explosive devices for Silco, but he had personally asked her to go see that girl she despised.

The girl hummed a song softly. She expected some action on the way, some idiot trying to stop her and start a fight, but this didn't happen, so she sighed in frustration and theatrically kicked open the rotten wooden door. The door easily moved and fell sideways with a dull thud, while the blue-haired girl let out a mischievous laugh.

"Oops, and I barely used any strength... what a piece of junk" she said, stepping into the dark place and removing her hood to release her long braids that fell behind her back. The girl, sitting a few meters away, used a candle to light a book she was reading on a long wooden counter, barely reacting. Her golden eyes landed on the intruder, and she emitted a half-surprised, half-recognizing groan.

"The crazy one with the braids" she whispered, and in just a few seconds, Jinx was already in front of her, putting her butt near the girl's face as she sat down on the table without permission, wearing a mischievous smile.

"The crazy one with the medicine... Silco wants the usual, Ciri Ciri... so be a good girl and hurry up, because I've got a rocket launcher to make. There are a lot of enforcers to blow up into pieces."

"Don't call me Ciri Ciri. And pay for the door before I shove one of your rockets up your ass" muttered the purple-haired girl in a dull tone, before putting down the book and grabbing the candle to head to the back of the house.

"It's your fault, you should get something better than that rotten wood. What will you do when someone tries to steal your work?" Jinx asked with a false tone of pity as she spun on the table to sit with her legs bent, raising her hands and admiring her painted nails. "Got anything to keep the dye from coming off so easily?"

"Sure, first you pour gasoline all over your hand and then light a match... that makes the polish stick" replied the girl, emerging with a square cardboard box in her hands, and the blue-haired girl burst out laughing.

"Thanks for the advice, Ciri Ciri... I will gladly follow in those footsteps with you close by my side to make us dust." 

"I told you not to call me that" repeated the girl with golden eyes, while she placed the box on the table with indifference, and Jinx now eagerly began to check the contents like an excited child, humming a nursery rhyme.

Medicines, potions, antibiotics, healing agents, and some substances that Silco's adoptive daughter had no idea what they were, but they were on the list, so that was fine for now.

"Have you been using more of that shit?" Circe asked while playing with a strand of her straight hair, not looking directly at her.

"You worried about me? How sweet... I'd kiss you, but I don't want you to fall in love with me, it's such a hassle having so many at my feet" the blue-haired girl laughed playfully, adding a touch of gravity to her tone, trying to sound sensual at the same time.

Circe let go of the strand of hair to look at those eyes that shone amidst the bluish-gray irises, but the dark circles under her skin, which was becoming more pale and almost sickly every day, didn't fool her, so the purple-haired girl laughed.

"You look worse than ever, so don't brag. Are you really Silco's adopted daughter?... because every day you look more like him physically... worn out, skinny, and with a sucked-in face... soon you'll be a skeleton."

"At least I get delicious food from Piltover and have a cool room, while you have to keep living in this hole like the insignificant poor thing you are, eating garbage" Jinx shot back. This was how it always went; once they started, they didn't stop.

"At least I haven't lost my mind or become a psychopathic killer who doesn't even know where she's standing."

"At least I have a father, unlike you, who's completely alone" Jinx smiled, knowing she had hit a very sensitive spot, and a grimace curved on Circe's lips.

"Oh, you have three fathers, don't you, Jinx? Which one do you brag about? The one the enforcers killed, the one you killed, or the one who took you in because he felt sorry for how pathetic you are to keep you as his bitch?"

Then the punch hit the purple-haired girl with enough force to break her jaw. Circe fell backward, and Jinx's gloved hand grabbed her by the neck, lifting her up and pressing the gun she had at her side to the side of her head.

She would kill her, Jinx would. All the pain and rage that had crossed her disturbed mind began to fade at the thought of erasing this girl from existence, a girl she had never tolerated, not even in her childhood, when they stared at each other and Vi invited her to join her group, but she always refused, believing that she was something special when she was just trash like everyone else in the suburban district.

She thought Circe, who was bleeding from the mouth and breathing heavily, would beg her. A cruel smile appeared on the braid-haired girl's face in anticipation, but she didn't get that. The purple-haired girl held her gaze coldly, with that expression of emptiness and resistance that made her furious.

Her index finger was on the trigger, but then Sevika's large hand pushed her just in time, and the bullet hit only a wall.

"What are you doing? You can't kill her. Silco needs the medicine she gives us."

"Another apothecary can be found... because this one is already dead" Jinx was about to shoot again, but Sevika insisted she leave her alone, grabbing her arm and practically dragging her away. The muscular woman with brown skin carried the box on one shoulder and, with her other hand, was dragging the furious girl.

Circe stood up from the floor and looked at Jinx, forming a defiant expression in her eyes, while blood dripped from her mouth down to her chin. 

"Go to your father... go to your master who whistles for you, like the trained dog you are" she whispered. She would have shouted that, she would have done it, fully aware that it would be the final nail in her coffin, but her tone deflated, leaving only a murmur.

Even she didn't know why they provoked each other to the brink of collapse. Circe didn't fear death, nor violence; she had seen too much of it to reject it. She had welcomed it with open arms, like every inhabitant born into this hell.

Perhaps deep down, she longed for it... for someone to kill her and put an end to her life, which lacked meaning beyond serving a man who barely cared for her. But she was obligated to do it, because otherwise, she'd be labeled a traitor. And Circe could be whatever she wanted: a bitch who couldn't shut up, an experienced apothecary who learned medicine and pharmacology from her dead parents, a girl who didn't know how to fight but didn't tremble in the face of blood... but a traitor, never.

That was what anchored her to life... the illusion that her existence still had value. And maybe that's why... she didn't want to die yet.

...

Jinx argued with Silco, who forbade her from killing the girl who was useful to him, and she, frustrated, unloaded that anger on the poor enforcers who were in the way of her plans, in the middle of yet another mission. It had been a delight to shoot them dead, every time she squeezed the trigger while nimbly dodging each burst from their weapons, knocking them down like sacks of potatoes, one by one.

Sevika scolded her for her excessive and unnecessary aggression, but what did it matter? They were enemies, and they were better off dead than alive. And she smiled, fantasizing that one of the people she had shot was Circe.

Sooner or later, she would end it her. They had known each other since childhood. She lived only a few blocks away from the home she had once known with Vi, Claggor, Mylo and Vander. She was the same age as them, but they always argued, and just the thought of looking at her gave Jinx a bad feeling. 

Though, if she dug deeper into her memories, memories perfectly blocked by the passage of time, she could swear that they did play in harmony when they were younger. They had shared food on some occasions, and she had even spent the night with them once when her parents had a violent argument, and she had slept next to the two sisters as if she were a third.

Vi always welcomed anyone in need, just like Vander... and Jinx forced herself to drown out those images, starting to talk to herself with the ghosts that haunted her mind, assuring herself that none of that had happened and that Circe was just an annoyance to eliminate.

However, if the girl with golden eyes was that... why had she kept breathing until now? How many times had she thought the same thing and still hadn't come to any conclusion? That was a mystery.

The next day, Jinx visited her old home, entering the play area where they used to gather to have fun in a warm past that felt distant on the timeline. The small space had been created by them, so everything was improvised and small. The light came in weak but welcoming, the surroundings were dirty from years of disuse; dust covered the boxes they used as tables, the worn mattresses on the floor, old toys, and the machine where Vi practiced her punches to make her fists stronger.

Jinx wandered with unsteady steps, her long braids hanging down her back, looking at everything with the weight of Circe's words entering her mind and exploding into a silent fury. But she soon looked to a corner where there were scattered newspaper pages on the floor. As she approached, she noticed scribbles and drawings made with charcoal. The blue-haired girl crouched down, her arms wrapped around her knees, her chin resting on them. Her hollow eyes were dull as she remembered that, in the past, she had drawn there. Circe had once found some stolen crayons that she had managed to get from her house, and the two of them, that time, had stopped their usual bickering and sarcasm to spend time together. Back then, the purple-haired girl had praised her drawings, and Jinx could even swear she had told her that she had a talent for art.

Jinx's thin fingers with black-painted nails touched the cover of those pages. The drawings were still partially recognizable, although the mold from the humidity had blurred and dimmed some of the details. She had always drawn her monkey bombs, at a time when she still couldn't make them explode.

Then, the abyss of her thoughts was disturbed by the sound of something. Her eyes widened with the expression of a hunter about to take down her prey, as her hands — clad in fingerless gloves — grabbed one of her two pistols and pointed it at the intruder to find Circe standing in front of her. She had her straight hair tied in a high ponytail, her bangs combed forward, but her gaze was as absent as Jinx's had been just moments ago.

"I came to apologize" she said in an indifferent tone, standing completely still with her chin held high.

Jinx's eyes dilated as she stood up to circle her like a wild animal about to capture its prey, taking a few slow steps while continuing to point the gun at her head.

"I don't forgive you"

"I don't forgive you either... Don't play the victim, you were the first to mention my father" she said without moving, showing no emotion. And this bothered the tattooed girl more: seeing someone who wasn't afraid of her. That wasn't fun.

"Are you aware of who has the weapons here, right?"

"I'll make you a proposal... I'll invite you to lunch. After that, you decide whether to kill me or not" suggested Circe, her golden eyes fixed on her former neighbor... her possible childhood friend and, lately, mortal enemy. Neither of them even knew how to name what they were.

Upon hearing that, Jinx burst into laughter. Her cackle echoed through the place as she stepped away and let herself fall onto the remnants of an improvised couch, not letting go of the gun and no longer aiming it. Now she scratched her temple with it, and against all expectations, Circe felt a slight pang of fear, worried that the crazy and stupid girl might shoot herself. It would be a ridiculous and laughable death, but either way, there was concern. Plus, the most likely outcome was that Circe was involved through no fault of her own, and Silco would kill her

"Do you want to move that thing away from your face?"

"Why?... Does it make you nervous?" this time she brought the mouth of the gun under her chin with a twisted smile "Russian roulette"

"In Russian roulette, you only put one bullet in the chamber. Yours is full, idiot"  Circe shot back, and Jinx maintained the good humor that was coming to her.

"How do you know how many bullets I have?"

There was no response. Circe rolled her eyes with a huff, and Jinx sighed before springing to her feet, lowering the weapon for now.

"i told you, I'm too refined to eat the crap from here... Besides... would that be a date?" she mocked, crossing her arms but unable to keep her feet still with her swaying, and Circe tilted her head with a smile.

"Take it however you want... just don't fall in love with me, remember, you want to kill me"

"No problem, I can fall in love and kill you later... you know I don't have a heart. I killed my own family, so why not do it to you?" the girl with gray-blue eyes insinuated with dark humor, but Circe's lips stopped curving into a smile, now showing a more serious expression.

"I already told you, I apologize for my words" she said brusquely, and Jinx burst into laughter.

"You're the least convincing person to apologize, you sound fucking fake"

"You know how I am... besides, I never apologize to anyone" she huffed with pride.

"Well, neither do I" smiled the braided one before putting her weapon back in the holster at her hip and walking alongside her, grabbing her chin that was swollen from the blow yesterday. "Alright, let's eat... let's see if you can make me like you, little vermin." 

The touch hurt the girl with the ponytail, but she endured it well while smiling at her, and they began walking together. Deep down, Circe wanted to return the insult, like she was always used to replying to everything Jinx threw at her, calling her rat, ugly, skeletal, crazy, drug addict, murderer... There was a whole arsenal of vulgar words in her mind that made her tongue itch to throw them like cobra venom, but she kept them to herself.

The bar at The Last Drop was the most appropriate place to go. Both girls sat on stools, leaning against the bar. After Vander's death and Silco's rise, the place had become darker and gloomier. The people who entered sent chills down anyone's spine, and danger was palpable everywhere.

The girls had distilled liquor alongside a plate of meat stew. They had no idea what the meat was — they usually used rats — but Circe still ate it eagerly. Jinx on the other hand, was just playing with her food, not looking at it with disgust — not that it bothered her, it always brought back memories of her past, when this was a delicacy — but she observed it with indifference as she went for the liquor.

"Rat meat... ideal for you" she whispered with a smile, but the girl with golden eyes didn't pay attention, devouring every last bit of broth from her plate.

"Really, I'm in the presence of Piltover's elite... I've seen you eat worse things, so go show off to someone else, but not with me" she said before asking for a chili soaked in vinegar, eating it like a delicacy.

"What a fucking disgust" Jinx whispered before taking another sip of liquor, "All that spicy and sour stuff will tear your stomach open."

"Well, at least I don't consume Shimmer... worry about your own health" Circe shot back after finishing it all and looking at her guest's plate, "I'm paying for this, so eat it."

"Forget it... I won't eat rat meat from the sewers when my palate has already tasted the delicacies from the city of progress... spiced meat, fish fillets, poultry... nothing like this" suddenly, Jinx grabbed the plate and spat on it. "Well... it was a nice invitation."

"You bitch" growled Circe before standing up and trying to slam the full plate into her face. Food was sacred, and the purple-haired girl wasn't going to let it go. The two struggled, and with a kick to the stomach, Jinx sent Circe flying back, the plate flying and landing on the head of a man who didn't look friendly... and he wasn't alone.

The two girls exchanged a glance before running out of there, with the gang following closely behind. The girl with yellow eyes wasn't good at running and didn't have much agility; she almost lost her balance at an intersection until she felt Jinx's hand grip her wrist, pulling her into a hole in the city wall. The space was very narrow, but Circe pressed her back against the wall while Jinx squeezed in front of her, feeling their breaths sync up. She could feel the despicable girl's body pressed against her front torso, and they looked at each other, realizing they were very close. Too close.

Before Circe could open her mouth, Jinx's hand covered it, stopping her from making any sound, while she pressed a finger to her lips with a "shh."

Circe didn't even know why she felt heat, or why they were working so hard to hide when Jinx was armed and could easily repel the gang. Yet, here they were, closer than they ever expected. And when the sound of their pursuers' heavy footsteps faded, Circe pushed Jinx away with force, getting her off as if she had burned her, not even realizing her cheeks were flushed.

"Idiot!"

"You started it... you threw the plate, food is sacred, you don't do that" the blue-haired girl excused herself with a laugh, and the other girl's hands clenched into fists at her sides.

"Why didn't you show them your weapons? They would've figured out you work for Silco."

"Because that wouldn't have been fun... instead, this... this was fun" Jinx mocked, feeling satisfaction at seeing Circe's flushed cheeks from indignation and her eyes shattered with fury. No longer did she see emptiness, she saw emotion. And with that, she felt avenged, "The invitation was great... next time, I'll invite you... see you later, Ciri Ciri."

One of Jinx's lined eyes closed in a mischievous attempt that made Circe give her a disgusted look. The silence was only broken by the adopted daughter of Silco's laugh as she walked away, and the girl with golden eyes watched her disappear into the constant mist of the city. Then she put a hand to her chest... and only at that moment did she realize.

How much her heart was beating... and she hated it. She cursed herself to the bones for it.

[orhelponefaintingrobin]

Can I be honest?

I found the approach to the villains in The Interstellar Song Contest to be kind of frustrating. In this current climate - around several marginalised groups - 'members of a marginalised group treated by much of society as an inherent threat despite just wanting to get on with their lives' is quite a disappointing choice of villain for an episode like this, and especially in an episode written by the first trans person to ever write for Doctor Who.

And especially when they pulled the exact same 'technically sympathetic motivations undercut by making their actions comically evil' shit that people criticised The Falcon and the Winter Solider for. Like, especially if we're trying to sneak something in about Eurovision's tacit endorsement of the Palestinian genocide in there, you could definitely have written Kid in a way which made that work well. Perhaps the assumption is that he's trying to hurt people, that the plan was only ever to hijack the broadcast to expose the brutality of what happened on Hellia but something went wrong and dumping everyone into space was actually an accident, but everyone just assumed they were trying to do something big and evil because, well, 'they're Hellions, that's just what they're like!' Instead, we get a plan in which they want to murder a comical amount of people, for nothing but revenge. And to top it off, the episode has Kid basically confirm that he is actually just in it for the sake of the killing (even if Wynn ends up a little more sympathetic by the end).

Last week, we got The Story and the Engine. That was also an episode by a writer, like Juno Dawson, from a background hugely underrepresented in ALL writer's rooms, let alone in Doctor Who, who, also like Dawson, is demonstrably a proper life-long fan of the show. In that, we got a story that felt like a story only Inua Ellams could tell, as well as a story that could never have been told without a black Doctor. And it did so while also seeming to understand at a pretty basic level who the Doctor is as a character; someone who is pretty fucking scary when they're angry, and he definitely gets angry in that episode, but also someone who ultimately has a huge capacity for mercy.

I wish that the first episode by a trans writer could have done the same. The Doctor is a character whose experience of gender is certainly not cisgendered, who has swapped back and forth at least three times between male and female if you include that original Timeless Child incarnation, and who is now played by a queer actor (albeit a cisgender one, as far as I'm aware). I wish we could have had an episode that leaned into and celebrated queerness, and the DOCTOR's queerness, in the way that The Story and the Engine celebrated the Doctor's blackness and the cultures it's connected him to.

Instead we got an episode where a member of a marginalised group, distrusted by everyone around them purely because of who they are, with members of the society who actively hide who they are to gain a fragile acceptance, tries to carry out the mass murder of three trillion people, and who is ultimately shown to simply accept that he is in it for violence's sake.

Don't get me wrong, it was a very fun episode, I had a great time with it, I was expecting it to be kinda cringe and it definitely managed to avoid that. The shots of everyone getting sucked into space were a brilliant rug-pull with the tone, and it even managed to get me mostly on-board with what they're doing with Mrs Flood. I actually do have far more positive feelings about this episode than negative ones. But god, this feels like it was a missed opportunity.

[iwtv-theories]

“Real- Rashid” isn’t who we think he is : how the show may adapt , ‘Tale of the body thief ‘(theory/ analysis) :

So we all know, canonically Rashid is a talamasca agent who was undercover as a servant for Armand & Louis.But, in ‘the tale of the body thief’: A vampire switches bodies with a human + the body thief takes possession of an unnamed British-Indian man (similar to Rashid’s actor who is British-Punjabi). So although different from the novels. I believe there’s already been a body switch that’s happened offscreen (and a vampire is in agent Rashid’s human body). It’d be ironic , cause he’s LITERALLY NOT “REAL-RASHID”!!!! Plus, there’s the fact that “Rashid” is probably just an alias he chose while undercover . Daniel to a talamasca agent: “got a real name ?” So if Rashid is just an alias… which vampire is “Rashid”?? It’s going to sound crazy . So please- please let me cook .

Rashid is Marius (secretly watching over Armand via taking over a talamasca agent’s body) !!!!

Don’t forget during the fall of Rome, Marius was friendly with a child-vamp named Rashid ! Given, Marius questionable track record with young boys- I could totally see him pick a name of one he fancied (as an alias). Side eye. Daniel: “How many Rashids, Rashid?”

If he’s Marius I’m convinced when Daniel said this next statement he was initially sweating bullets wondering if there was some innuendo in his statement…

Daniel : “You know, REAL RASHID. I’m pretty good at my job. And if they’ve got something to HIDE (pans to Rashid in front of the Marius painting). They always start with some sort of disguise. Not literally, not some dumb Halloween costume (gloves, contacts lens). He wanted to be close to it , right, REAL RASHID? I mean, hey, whatever it is they’re trying to HIDE (pans back to Rashid in front of the Marius painting). I’m probably not going to crack it.”Rashid side eyes the f out of Daniel (as his face obscures Marius’).

Also … not the first time , in the show, a poc stood in front of a painting of a white-guy (and ended up being the same person depicted in the painting)!!!

Daniel: “ looked up at the painting to see Teresa’s (Armand’s) dead husband (Marius) was actually Roberto (Rashid) ! “

And people say Raglan James (the body thief in the books) taking about 'swapping bodies' is on the nose . But it could be a misdirect since Daniel himself was skeptical of Raglan’s name . And this convo is interrupted by - ‘Agent Rashid’ (as sinister music plays as he re-enters the room)! It could be a hint he’s the actual body thief. And (in the books) the body thief has swapped bodies with a vamp before.

Or in the show, a powerful vampire (like Marius) is inside of ‘Rashid’, and is the actual entity that has the ability to swap bodies.

Honestly , the show may go a more realistic route and give that ability to a supernatural entity rather than a random human . Plus, Marius going into/controlling people’s bodies without their consent also just feels like a metaphor for shit he’d pull. Not to mention , the weird fact an old white guy steals/takes over an “Anglo indian” guy's body in the books (this could be recontextualized in the show as a colonization metaphor ,especially given how white Marius previously treated the Indian-Arun).

Plus,If some random human ,in the books, has such strong telepathy that they can switch consciousness/bodies (why in the show , can't a super powerful ancient vampire with telepathy not be able to theoretically do the same thing too )???? He could be impersonating ‘Rashid’ while the talamasca is oblivious .

There’s also the fact that that in the books,David (who was the last person to permanently steal the body of the young Indian man) may not be in the show. And his long storyline probably will be split among several show characters . (we already see some of David’s attributes given to Daniel: a 70y vampire who becomes Lestat's confidant , comforts Louis about his grief for Claudia, and interviews and writes biographies about different vamps , and he even previously denied vampirism but admitted he secretly wanted it all along post-turning). And David (a white dude in a Indian man’s body) also has similarities to Marius: both are vampires into little boys/girls (yuck), and they both proclaim they “LOVE” Armand and fetishize his youthful appearance .

Other possible hints “Rashid” is Marius:

Louis describing Santiago (the vampire) as the camera focuses on Rashid: “ Santiago's failure to protect his coven. How quickly he ran (Rashid runs out) to save his own flesh , filled him with unworthiness.” Daniel interjects: “He brought a cloak” -another word for “disguise “ .

It's possible that in the show Marius did burn but ‘ran to save his own flesh' from burning and left his 'coven' (aka Armand and all the boys at the palazzo to fight for themselves). Which similar to Santiago's coven that went up in flames - the palazzo was set ablaze and the boys were all forced to jump into a fire and be burned alive (while Armand was kidnapped ,tortured, and indoctrinated into a cult ). Marius may feel "unworthy " due to this "failure' , so can't actually face Armand. And just uses a "cloak"(disguise) to do so. Daniel also says " He brought a cloak to a knife fight'. If you use 'cloak ' as a verb. Cloak can also mean 'to cover with ", and Rashid does 'cover the talamasca script with a newspaper' (leading to the loumand breakup). He may have wanted Louis /Armand to fight/break up , and he used multiple forms of cloaking to do so.

I know everyone thought Armand was the one who dropped the 'Stein' photos into the pile ( and it wouldn't surprise me if he did). But, what if he was actually telling the truth, and it was Rashid (Marius) trying to subtly sabotage the relationship? just like the finale where he slips some papers to Daniel- trying to blow up the relationship. Marius canonically sabotages most of Armand's relationships (even when they're not together). And it was Rashid who was in charge of organizing the photo-archives from the 1940s, after all. Rashid enters the room with photos and Daniel even says : “what weirdness have you brought to us tonight , real Rashid?”

There's also just other things Rashid does that I feel like could be evidence he's Marius.

We have the fact Marius used to say bs to Amadeo like 'I'm your slave.' NOPE, that's NOT TRUE! You bought Amadeo ; he was LITERALLY YOUR SLAVE (who you whipped bloody, groomed, and donated to others) ! But , I could see Marius (later revealing his identity to Armand) saying all this time he tried to do “penance”: by living as a human who resembled Amadeo and "serving" him. But, what he did to Amadeo is still 1000x worse than vampire-Armand paying a 'human' to be his butler. It's not the same thing!!! But A+ for creativity, I guess...

It'd be so ironic if Daniel called out Armand for 'playing' the role of Rashid. When it might be Rashid (Marius) trying to play Amadeo/Armand. Also, both Rashid/Armand really give off a similar vibe: poised, quiet, formal speech, and hard to read.

(fake) Lestat describes raising Claudia (cough similar to how Marius raised Armand). And for no narrative reason, (totally real) Rashid interrupts . And he is also placed right in front of the painting called 'slave auction' (1982).

And the meaning of the artwork does seem to describe a lot of Armand's experiences: "adults and children being shipped away on a boat to a foreign land to be slaves for the rest of their lives.The painting also features a tall black figure that represents the power responsible for taking slaves and selling them." hmmm.

Another detail is. Armand considers vampirism a curse and (in TVA) Marius debated with him that humans are just as evil as vampires. Which is a similar sentiment to what Rashid debates to Daniel, when defending Armand . Armand looks annoyed - and says Rashid can leave. And Armand states , Rahid gave a "romantic answer" (could be some hidden symbolism there).

Again if Rashid's just a talamasca agent (he still seems to focus more on observing/serving Armand). To be fair, he is stronger/older than Louis so he may just get more focus from the organization. In qotd graphic novel: David talbot (who was in the talamasca) pointed at a painting Marius made of Amadeo and said to watch him . Talamasca already planted Sam to spy on Armand's coven, back in Paris. And they have been literally spying on him since he was a human with marius. But , yeah if Rashid was Marius (the actual reason for being more interested in Armand is for a different reason)...

Also , you know the people in the writers room would be laughing their asses off at the idea of somehow pulling off the same twist twice. “So, what if the human Rashid was later revealed to be a super important ancient vampire from the book series ...again!" 🤣

I’m also super aware this is just a crazy crack theory. But in the very very small chance I’m right- I want bragging rights for predicting it :P. The more rational explanation could be Rashid was just undercover in the talamasca and worried his cover could be blown: so got nervous with molloy’s 'disguise' and “real-Rashid’ comments. And he simply acted like a kiss-ass about the ethics of vampires (to keep his cover). Sam (a talmasca agent) was also roasted by the coven for being a kiss-up to Armand. Then Rashid just “ran to save his own skin “ cause the talamasca warned him to get out , just like they warned molloy and Sam. The Talamasca is also technically founded by elder vampires- so who knows maybe he’s technically working for Marius who has power in the organization (aka why he’s in front of the Marius associated paintings ). And sadly like the novels, due to Raglan James- “Rashid” may get his body stolen by David talbot . Booo (if he's innocent , I don't want that)! Plus, I really don’t see the point of having David in the series- they could give a lot of his plots to other characters instead.

But, I'm still just so suspicious… I feel like there’s ALREADY more to Rashid than meets the eye (and he may have more importance in the future) . “It’s just Rashid.” Suuuuure buddy you’re just Rashid … I totally believe that.

Bally James (real-Rashid) also won an Ian Charleson award for best stage performer under 30y. And he’s known Assad Zaman (Armand) for like 7 years . So not giving his character more substantial scenes to work with (whether with Armand or others) seems like a waste.

[forestlovesyou]

I got hit by a huge wave of nostalgia and fell back into the Undertale rabbithole and I just couldn't resist the urge to make a Handplates skeleton lore accurate oc who I am pretty proud of ngl :] adawd

[mrfoox]

Like class differences is always so painfully obvious to me at times...

[racke7]

Huh. I actually managed to finish Divinity 2 for once.

[radrobotz]

i miss the minecraft comes alive mod one time i sent my kid out hunting and they never came back no death message like its supposed to give if one of your family members gets killed i just waited for days and days and days but nothing. i dont know if there was a limit to how many days your kid could go out but it was definitely way past whatever it could have been. that was kind of too real

[tqlepatia]

⋮ ⌗┆FA$$HION KILLA .ᐟ ( PART I )

— OLDER ! RICH ! SEVIKA × MODEL ! READER ( HCS ) —

౨ৎ - 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒': " was walking back home and started playing fashion killa , one of my fav songs .ᐟ.ᐟ , so why don't I put my fav things togheter ? , Sevika + rap . Here it is , should I make a part two , more domestic life ? "

𖹭 - Sevika meet you at a runaway after party, She wasn't supposed to be there, she hated those kinds of events but she came to fund a new sponsor and left with you instead.

𖹭 - You thought she was security at first... until you noticed the vintage gold Rolex, the custom cigar case, and the tailored suit.

𖹭 - You kissed her in the back garden. Lipstick on her jaw, smoke curling from her cigar, and didn't stop thinking about it for a week, that leading for a relationship barely 1 month after

𖹭 - Her credit card has no limit. But she only uses it to buy things she knows you'll forget you said you wanted, you smile like a child who just got a candy when she come home with a fur coat you watched on your phone last week and complimented it.

𖹭 - She has 2 Polaroids of you in her wallet, one of you almost glowing in the sun in the pool, smiling at her, and another of your naked after a long fuck, your hair spread on the sheets, body covered with sweat and... sticky substances, eyes shut, you dont know about the second picture.

𖹭 - Your perfume is custom. She commissioned it in Paris. The bottle's engraved with your initials and a date, her first night with you. You wear it when you want her undone.

𖹭 - She never talks to her stylists. Only yours. And only if they show her options for matching sets.

𖹭 - The first time you got cancelled after throwing a drink at the paparazzi, she brought the media not to talk about that and make people forget.

𖹭 - When you tell her you feeling with zero privacy, She start paying off paparazzi just so you can have one damn lunch in peace.

𖹭 - Her driver knows to bring you roses every Friday. Different color each week, per her order.

𖹭 - She keeps your favorite perfume in her car, your scent trailing even when you're not there.

𖹭 - Her password is your anniversary, and her wallpaper is your back in arch on the bed, naked.

𖹭 - You once fell asleep in her lap after a long show where you changed clothes at least 24 times, She didn't move for at least two hours.

𖹭 - She can't use Instagram for shit. Don’t have a profile picture or a bio, and barely post anything, and when she does, it's probably a new magazine you were. But she follows at least 10 fan pages of you.

𖹭 - She asked if you wanted kids. You said yes. She hasn't stopped looking at baby clothes since.

𖹭 - She buys you gowns you'll never wear. "For our daughter to inherit one day."

𖹭 - Your wedding? Private. Dare I say the most private of all, people just discovered when you started walking arround with a big ass ring in you finger.

𖹭 - till today, you always melt by her touch, just like the first night you both met, the night that both of your souls felt complete.

𖹭 - Since your marriage, she has always been clear that, wants to retire with you in one of her big and glamorous houses in italy

— NSFW

𖹭 - She wakes you up with her mouth. Tongue lazy between your thighs, arms wrapped under your legs. You're dazed, half-asleep, hips already rolling up. She murmurs "Good morning, baby," into your skin, like it's the most natural way to start the day.

𖹭 - She keeps a private video of you tied up, begging, overstimulated and broken from too many orgasms.

𖹭 - Morning sex with espresso breath and tangled sheets is her favorite ritual.

𖹭 - She has a breeding kink, bad. It hits her hardest after high-fashion shoots where your waist looks extra small in gowns. She'll bend you over the bed, push in deep and growl, "Should fuck a baby into you, fill this perfect little body up until it's mine forever."

𖹭 - She's fucked you on the balcony of her penthouse with people below. "Let them hear you. Let them know who fucks you like this."

𖹭 - She fucked you with her strap while holding your vibrator on your clit. Didn't let you come until you called her "Mommy" with tears in your eyes

𖹭 - She's obsessed with your womb. Presses her palm over your belly, fucks deep until she feels the bulge. "This is mine too."

𖹭 - She almost cum in her pants when you degrade yourself.

𖹭 - She fucked you so hard the bed broke. Laughed after. "Guess we need sturdier furniture for this pussy, right baby, mhm?."

𖹭 - " shhh i know baby, momma got you so fucked, dont i? Look at you... m~mhm.. fuck! u can barely speak "

𖹭 - She's sent you videos of her stroking her strap slowly. Caption being "Waiting for you."

𖹭 - She fucks you like she hates you, holds you like she'd die without you

౨ৎ - 𝐓aglist ; @prettyinpink69 , @abbysdollie , @marieeeluvsyou , @littlelovelunette , @madzorwhatever.

[redflagshipwriter]

Snitches the cat and his favorite bat

I wrote up dpxdc fics based off of prompts I happened to see in the last day to add to the reading pile for anyone who didn't prep for the archive down time today.

EDIT

The idea for Danny as a cat came from @shycorvid, thank you so much for correcting me and letting me play in your sandbox!

Snitches the cat comes from @garbagewith-a-cherryontop (I think??? I couldn't find a definite first post!) but the fantastic linked post is the one with how I think Snitches the cat looks here.

Word count is 1053.

Tumblr reference

masterpost for my AO3 downtime fics

“Ugh- that's not- did we just summon a demon cat?”

“It's so messed up looking. Ew.”

Danny blinked and swayed on his feet. He'd had a tail a minute ago, speeding across the GZ to check in on Walker. There had been an unpleasant lurch in his stomach. And now he was on his feet. All four of them.

Wait, what?

“You fucked this up.”

His ears twitched at the sound of a slap. Danny swiveled towards the sound and then got distracted by the feeling of his ears swiveling back. Whaaaaat?

He looked down at his precious little feeties. They were adorable paws.

“Oh, you motherfuckers,” he said. It came out as a conversational yowl.

The humans looked at him from about ten feet away and five feet up. “Annoying…”

He was pretty sure they were high schoolers. There were five of them, two girls and three boys. They were all bigger than him. High schoolers were usually bigger than he was, but this was just ridiculous.

“Count yourself lucky, dimwits,” one of the older kids said. He took a step towards Danny. Danny pressed his ears flat against his head and hissed at the approach. “If you managed to sacrifice Patches to a demon, your Mom would straight up murder you.” He laughed when he said it, like anything about that was remotely funny.

Uh- what now?

Only now, Danny noticed a very distressed calico cat underneath a laundry basket on the other side of the room. There was a stack of textbooks weighing the basket down. A large rug had been rolled up and- he sneezed rapidly, eyes watering. Chalk! They'd drawn on the floor with chalk!

‘This is some incompetent summoning,’ Danny realized, way too late. ‘Did they- how did they turn me into a cat?’ He looked at his unfortunate brethren under the laundry basket. Her ears were flat against her skull and she looked scared.

He remembered the word “sacrifice” and his blood flushed hit with fury. They'd wanted him to eat her! They'd wanted something to eat miss Patches!

The teenagers froze and looked at him, aghast at the angry sounds that were coming out of his throat.

“Shut up!” One hissed. She took off her shoe and threw it at him. Danny dodged and then threw his head back to yowl even louder. Sonic attack! Aural damage, you big jerks!

“The neighbors are going to- make it shut up!”

Danny had to run, dashing over furniture and tearing his way across a crowded table to avoid being grabbed. He screamed the whole time, eager to alert whoever they were so afraid of. Someone should see!

The window burst in.

Danny stopped running, shocked. He hadn't actually expected-

Someone snatched him up from behind and smacked him on the face with a palm. His jaw exploded with pain. It cut off his yowling.

Stunned. He was still for a moment and then he struggled for his life. The grip on his ribs was way too tight-

He looked over at the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath. Holy shit, that was bomb as hell. His eyes went wide at the sight of a heavily armored small child crouched on the windowsill. The boy's eyes were covered, but Danny could still see him look at Danny and the poor calico under the laundry basket. He sneered.

“Unhand the cat or lose your hands at the wrist, you wretch.”

Danny loved him.

The teenager dropped him. Danny caught himself with a stumble. He let out a sad mraow before he could stop himself.

Fight club baby was enraged. “What have you done to this animal?” He hopped down into the room, revealing he was at least a foot shorter than the smallest girl in the room.

Danny trotted to him and started winding around his ankles admiringly. What a good kid! He purred.

“I will be taking both of your cats with me. If you ever harm an animal again, it will be your head that is found in a chalk-”

“Robin.” A hugeass grown man squeezed himself through the window that the kid had broken. Danny craned his head up, up, up, to see him case the joint.

The older man radiated incredible judgment. “I see that you require education on animal welfare and demonic summoning. Go on, Robin.”

“That's my Mom's cat!” One of the teenagers protested. “You can't take her!”

Robin growled at her. Danny jumped in his skin at the sound.

“Then we shall return it to your Mother and her alone, when we explain what you've done.” Danny let murder baby scoop him up and purred at full volume. Hell yeah. He looked at the cowering teenagers with condescension.

“Not that fugly thing.”

Danny blinked. He ended up making an inquisitive mraow. Why was a finger being pointed at him? He was baby.

“That thing showed up, you can get rid of it. But Patches is Mom's cat, and you can't steal a cat because-”

“Batman can steal any cat!” Robin bit out, gathered up Patches, and jumped out the window with both cats in an expert grip.

That didn't sound right, but Danny just enjoyed the night air as a line pulled Robin up to where yet another masked vigilante was waiting, cackling himself to tears.

“Batman can steal any cat,” he wheezed. “Brilliant. Good detour, Robin. Can I hold one?” He held out his blue-striped palms expectantly.

He faltered when he saw Danny, visibly surprised.

Danny… was starting to feel bad. He curled into Robin, hurt. He wasn't ugly. Why did people keep reacting to him weird?

“No,” Robin said curtly. “You have damaged his pride, and Patches is still reeling from her shock.”

The man let out a sigh but let the topic go. “That's Patches, and this is…?”

Robin hesitated. “He is the Snitch.”

That unlocked cooing. “Snitches? Snitchy Snitch Sni- ow!”

Danny snapped at the hand that came way too close and he let out a warning growl. No baby talk!

Robin seemed very pleased. He rubbed behind Danny's ears. “Snitch… I suppose that Snitches will suffice. We are taking him home.”

“....Maybe, just for fun, we should take him to get treated for mange first!” The guy made jazz hands to go with his statement.

Robin and Danny both growled that time.

[cathnospam]

Continuing from This Drabble about you and your BF Katsuki answering sex questions about each other<3

Black Female Reader x Katsuki Bakugo , mentions of panty stealer bakugo, slight smut???

“Okay uh, how do you rate your partners kisses 1-10.”

“9”

“9?! Muthafucka I taught you how to kiss—-“

“You always push back first like you can’t handle it, it pisses me off.”

“I like breathing.”

“So.”

Rolling your eyes, “I was ganna say 12/10, but since you’re being a bitch—“

“So, 12/10 got it. Next.”

“Does your partner have any dirty secrets?…oooh.—-”

“M’going to bed.” Bakugo immediately gets up to take off his tank top seeing as he was going to sleep in your dorm tonight, but as the shirt clung to his semi flexing biceps you grab him, “No, y/n.”

“Oh c’mon boy are the secrets THAT bad?! I’ll tell you mine at least—-fuck.” He considers for a moment. Curiosity weighing heavier than his will to sleep at the moment, “You ass.”

“What did you call me—“

“I think…” You place two fingers on his soft lips, “One secret is that……….one time, when you were out on work study you left your black tank top in my room….and….i missed you….and i was ovulating so i….put on your tank top and ….played…with myself.”

The air was thick, it’s as if Bakugo took it as he grew closer to you while speaking, there wasn’t much to make him speechless but dammit that’s a new one.

Fuck. That’s actually more sexier than he wants to admit right now. He crossed his legs, hoping a tent won’t form in his grey sweats and noticed your eyes wandering at every part of your room but his eyes.

“I…moaned your name too.”

“You…you damn….pervert fuck—-“ His voice almost broke into a groan, looking away also embarrassed you knew he didn’t mean it in a malicious way from how he looked back at you, Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down, “Stop acting fucking weird. You did it. Who cares. As long as it was MY name you moaned.”

“Of course dumbass. I only want you…”

Bakugo felt his ears burning, already annoyed he was flustered once he groaned, “I took your panties once.”

“What?”

“Why the hell would you wear that lacy frilly shit during class in that short ass skirt? It’s like you want those idiots to see you.”

“That CANNOT be the reason—“

“IT IS. If you’re ganna wear ‘em wear them IN OUR dorms you dumbass.”

“…well.”

“Well what.” He pouts.”

“Well where the fuck are they I like wearing them after I get waxed.”

Bakugo hesitates, not wanting to actually answer mainly because he doesn’t just have ONE pair of panties. But a few. “I’ll show you later.”

“Tch.” You mock his sounds, “Ever use ‘em to masturbate?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You giggle, you can only imagine what his perverted ass has done with them. And the last time you seen them was in your hamper so you assumed they got lost somewhere in the laundry. Honestly it’s kinda….interesting he’s telling you this.

“Does your partner have any no’s during?”

“I’m not calling you a bitch.”

“Aw.” You sarcastically sigh, “Why.”

“Why the hell would I call you out your name—“

“You called me your slut yesterday.”

“…Slip of the tongue.” He crosses his arms like a child, making you giggle. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize it was hot.” You say adjusting yourself closer to him, you could actually feel the heat from his body rise as you kept speaking, “It’s fine. Degrading isn’t something I’d need from you anyway.”

“I don’t get that kink, who the hell likes to be disrespected by someone they…are y’know with.”

You shrug, you understand why certain people have kinks, but it’s hard to put in words for someone like Katsuki. He’s a very simple man when it comes to relationships. Almost traditional and old fashion which is what charmed you the most about him. He never even called you a bitch before in any sense nor has he ever told you anything that would genuinely hurt your feelings, “Some people are just into that.” You concluded, your boyfriend looks at you with an unresolved look, but accepts it anyway. Weirdos.

“I wouldn’t hit you either. Like in the face or anything. Only on the ass”

“Good because my face is too pretty for that.” Katsuki smirks at you, you’re absolutely right you’re too pretty for him to hit.

“Nobody else.”

“Hm?”

“…Nobody else is allowed to join us.”

Squinting for a moment his statement clicks , “OH! No threesomes and stuff. Oh yeah of course not. If I see you with any other girl I’ll kill you and her.”

Katsuki swallowed his laughter, masking it with a clearing of his throat, your eyes not tearing from his making sure he knew you were serious. You don’t scare him typically, but he knew the moments when you genuinely had an aura about you that screamed “Fucking try to play with me.” And this was one of those moments. “You look at me like I didn’t just fucking say —“

“I know.” Your voice cracked a little trying to cover up the jealous tone you were about to spew out. Just the thought of Katsuki touching another girl had you upset.

Little did you know it was the same for him with you.

“Anything else?”

“I won’t do race or age play.”

“What the hell…?—-“

“Well I am black so obviously no and then you have age play which is just a cute way of saying you like children—-“

“WHAT?”

You pause to cover up his loud mouth with your small hands, “SSSHH! Before we get in trouble again!…anyway moving on!”

Not wanting to argue, he takes your laptop and smacks your hand away, “What is something you DONT like that your partner does during sex.”

“Take my laptop away from me.”

He strikes you and look, he doesn’t say anything verbally but he says “quit fucking around” with his eyes, admitting defeat that he won’t give you back your laptop you sit back and think for a moment.

“Eh…Oh! I don’t like that you won’t let me ride you.”

Damn it.

He had a feeling you’d say that too. Bakugo scratches the back of his neck roughly while letting out a groan. Throwing his head back a little he side eyes you, “Why do you wanna be on top so bad. I’m the man I should—“

“It’s not even about dominating you or anything you can still fuck me from below, ‘Suki. You’ll still have all the power.”

Bakugo has seen porn videos where the guy fucks up into the girl. Even some where the man is straight up holding the girl up and pumps her full. It’s so erotic he couldn’t even finish the video, but even though he enjoys vanilla sex, he is quite certain riding him isn’t too far off from what he likes.

Besides he loves having your tits bounce in his face and feeling your nipples practically bounce into his mouth makes up of great reason.

“…Fine. But when I’M ready.”

“Yaaaayy mkay….now what is something YOU don’t like about me.”

“You’re ganna be pissed.”

Your smiles immediately transforms into a straighten line, “Uh oh.”

“I don’t …like when you cum too fast.”

It was a bit embarrassing yet confusing to hear. Clearly that means he’s doing a good job so why —

“Because I want to keep fucking you.” Bakugo speaks up as if he read your inner thoughts, all you could do was blink a few times at him, and he continued more, “Even though I don’t cum until after you do which isn’t that long, sometimes I wanna keep going. I’ve timed it, the moment I start fucking you sex only last about 6-8 minutes.”

“That’s average. Some people are 2-3 minutes.” You spoke with an unimpressed and deadpanned voice mostly because this sounded ludicrous to you and Bakugo seen it in your expression causing him to sigh in annoyance. “Shouldn’t your ego be filled knowing you make me cum fast?”

“Yeah, but —-fuck sue me for wanting more. And don’t say some shit like I’m a nympho or some shit because that’s fucking disgusting and those freaks are usually only in a relationship to fuck—-“

“OKAY OKAY CALM DOWN, BOY!” His voice kept getting louder and louder and you refused to have another write up because you have him in your dorm past curfew…again. “I get it though.”

“You want to be overstimulated.”

What? Bakugo scrunched yo his eyebrows. He never heard that term before used when talking about sex.

“Overstimulated means …well… showing you is actually better than telling you.”

In an instant Bakugo’s furrowed eyebrows soften, his gaze transitioned from confused to darker and subtly lustful. You felt the vibe of the room change so quickly you practically had to clear your throat to make him focus again.

“So the next question…”

“Nah, show me.” He firmly shuts your computer and places it on your nightstand. Arms still crossed, “Show me what that word means or should I look up a video and figure it out myself.”

“….y’can.”

It wasn’t ideal for your evening to end like this with him, but it’s just you and your slightly horny boyfriend watching porn videos.

What’s the worse that can happen?

[no-144444]

Hiyaa there!! Can I pls request a scenario with Oscar. Reader never had her first kiss (and that makes her nervous) and they talk about it and he's being really patient and gentle with her like hugs her closer kisses her and it's really cute and fluffy😊 that would be adorable and it's so Oscar. Thank youu!!!

first kisses- o.piastri

summary: being jack wolff's nanny is a pretty sick gig, especially when your old friend is an f1 driver and is interested in you...

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

part one part two part three

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

23 with no romantic prospects probably should’ve made you feel worse about yourself than it actually did. Yes, you occasionally wondered what it would be like to have someone to love and cherish, but you knew it wasn’t exactly realistic. You were extremely busy, like, all the time. Being Jack Wolff’s live-in nanny was quite the chore, despite him being only one child. Don’t get me wrong, he was well-behaved and sweet, but he still had a packed schedule of going to F1 races every now and then. When he wasn’t spending his weekends in the Mercedes garage, he was busy spending them in his own garage. Jack was in the beginning stages of his karting career, and he was damn good at it too. He loved the rush of trying to go as fast as he possibly could through every corner, every chicane, every straight. When he took his helmet off after a race and ran straight to you, it was one of the best feelings in the world. You loved Jack like a little brother, he adored you like a second mother. 

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Why did we have to get up so early?” he yawned as you walked through the Harry Reid airport, just after landing in Las Vegas. Due to the fact that Jack was two public figures’ son, you two always got the craziest flight times to avoid crowds. 

You smiled, picking him up and placing him on his suitcase so he could sit while you pushed him. “Because your mom and dad missed you,” you explain. “And they want to see you as soon as possible.”

“I could’ve waited a little longer,” he mumbled. 

“Das ist nicht nett,” (that is not nice) you chuckled. “They miss you, and you haven’t exactly been very good at texting them back.” 

“But we could’ve had a race this weekend,” he whined. 

“We do, you’re just not racing in it,” you smirked as he rolled his eyes. All 7 year olds really were sassy. 

“Do you want me to ask your dad if we can go to a track for a little bit of the weekend?” you offered after watching his sad face.

The frown on his lips instantly turned into a smile. “Yes please! You’re the best!” 

The kid knew how to play you, you’d give him that. 

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

It was 7am when you finally got checked into the hotel, and it was finally time for Jack to go see his parents. As much as he pretended he didn’t, most nights than not he would sneak into your bed and ask you to call one of them, so much so that you’d just made a time where you called each of them so he could talk. He had been getting better at the whole ‘long distant parenting’ but it still hurt him sometimes. Sometimes, he just wanted his dad, but his dad was 3,500km away at a race where their car was a piece of shit. 

You knocked on the door of their hotel room and it immediately opened to reveal a very excited Susie. “Jack!” she cheered, picking him up in his arms and hugging him tight as he giggled. Toto wrapped his arms around the both of them as they all reunited. 

You 4 have breakfast together where you popped the question about going to a kart track at some point over the weekend and they begrudgingly agreed, upset that they’d miss out on precious ‘Jack time’, but understanding of his want for more track time all the same. You had agreed to join them in the garage for the morning though, since seeing everyone again was nice. 

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“God, I’ve created a monster,” Toto joked as you both sat and watched Susie showing Jack around the garage. 

You chuckled. Jack was obsessed with anything to do with cars. He loved his kart more than anything, and h e couldn’t wait to move up into single seaters. He also had a mechanical engineer as a nanny, which probably didn’t help all that much. “We’ve created a monster. I’m the one teaching him about tire temp and degradation,” you chuckled as Toto just put his head in his hands jokingly.

“How are you?” he turned to you. “Any news?”

“Nothing new, just Jack’s news, I guess,” you shrugged. To be honest, you loved your life. You loved nannying Jack, you loved living in Monaco, you loved being at a kart track every single weekend, but you knew that wasn’t the typical experience of every young adult. 

Toto squinted his eyes. “How are your friends?” 

“They’re good, we went over to London the other week to go see them, since Jack had a race there on the weekend,” you explained, knowing what Toto was trying to say. “Don’t worry about me, I’m taking care of myself just fine.” 

He nodded. “We worry about you too,” he shrugged. “You’re like another daughter to us, we want you to be happy.”

You smiled. “I am.”

“And any boyfriends-?”

“Shut up!” you playfully hit him to stop the awkward conversation that would follow. “Enough Toto.”

“What?” He feigned innocence. “I can’t be interested in your dating life?”

“Nope,” you shook your head. “No you can’t.” 

“Y/n!” Jack shouted as he ran over to you. “Can we go to the track now please?” 

You looked to Toto, who nodded, then off you went to go grab Jack’s things and get into the car. When you pulled up to the track and got him stretched and warmed up, you watched as he circled the track while Toto and Susie went over strategies for the weekend in the cafe of the place. Toto had booked it out for Jack (mostly so he or you wouldn’t get papped, but also because that’s how Jack likes tracks when he’s practising), or so you thought. About 40 minutes into you being there, half of the McLaren garage showed up in papaya, apparently ready to race.

“Hey Toto,” Zak smiled. “Jack’s looking fast out there.”

“Hi Zak, what’re you doing here?” 

“Racing,” he chuckled. 

“We’re supposed to have it booked out for the day,” Toto argued. 

You came in as the two men started getting heated (which didn’t take much) and pulled them away from each other as Susie went outside to keep an eye on Jack. “What’s the issue?”

“We have the track booked out, and they want to race,” Toto scoffed. 

“We also have the track booked out,” Zak explained. “Also hi Y/n, nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too,” you smiled at him. “So just let Jack go until they’re done getting ready, they do a session, Jack does a session, and so on. We need to get out of here at 3 anyway, and you and Susie are leaving earlier.” 

They both pondered the deal, feeling rather stupid for not being able to compromise on their own. 

“Sounds fair,” they both said at the same time, then they went back to their respective groups. 

You went out to tell Jack, who agreed quickly, wanting to watch what the F1 drivers would do in a kart. You two watched at the sidelines as they went around the track, Jack literally taking notes beside you as you watched one kart only. Oscar Piastri. 

Oscar and you had been friends in boarding school, and you’d always had this inkling he liked you, but he never acted on it before you left school, so nothing ever came of it. You had definitely liked him back though. He was so nice to you, so sweet, so funny. He was just… Oscar. 

As Jack got back on track, Oscar came over to sit with you. “Hey,” He smiled. 

“Hi,” you smiled back, scooching over so there would be more space for him. On track was Jack v Lando, and Jack was winning. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

“I’m good, thanks, you?”

“Great,” he smiled. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

“It’s really nice to see you again.”

“I thought I’d seen you around the paddock but then I realised how strange that sounded so I just chalked it up to my imagination, which is an even weirder thing but, yeah. It’s nice to know you’re not just a figment of my imagination,” he chuckled, awkward and shy, just how you remember him. 

You laughed. “Yeah, not a figment of your imagination, just Jack’s nanny.” 

“Cool,” he nodded. “He’s a good driver.”

“He’s very good,” you agreed. “Every weekend we’re at tracks, it’s madness.”

“Where are you living now?” he asked. 

“Monaco,” you explained. 

“Me too,” he smiled. “We should meet up sometime.”

“I’d like that,” you nodded, and you couldn’t help but feel the charged air between you two. 

“I’d like that too.”

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

Asking for a night off was a nightmare. Both Susie and Toto had their noses stuck into your business no matter what, so they begged and pleaded to be told why, but you somehow kept your kind-of-date-not-really-a-date under wraps until you got to the restaurant. 

And it was nice. Oscar was just as sweet and funny as he was when you two first were friends. He even walked you back to the apartment, stopping before you went upstairs so as to not be seen by Toto or Susie. 

“I really had fun tonight,” he smiled, the cold Monaco air making his cheek red. 

“Me too,” you smiled. “It was really nice to catch up.”

He stepped closer, a nervous smile on his face. “Tonight was a date, right?”

“I-I’m- I don’t- I…” you trailed off, looking away from him as you both chuckled. 

“I’d like it to be,” he admitted. 

You nodded. “Me too.”

“So I can kiss you, right?” He smiled. 

Your heart slightly stopped, you’d never been kissed before. How did you even do it? Would he think you’re awful? Would this end the entire relationship?

“I don’t have to, I’d just… I’d like to,” he smiled understandingly. “If you’re not ready for that then that’s alright.”

“I just… I’ve never been kissed,” you admitted, deeply embarrassed. 

His jaw dropped. “You’ve never been kissed?” He asked despite himself. “Sorry, that sounded rude I-“

“It’s alright Oscar,” you shook your head. “I get what you mean.”

“No, I mean I’m just shocked, you’re so amazing and… yeah. It’s just surprising,” he chuckled. “I’m kind of honoured that I get to be the first.”

You chuckled. “Shut up.”

He chuckled. “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, much too nervous to actually speak. He placed a hand on your cheek and leaned in, his lips softly meeting yours. 

And it felt good. It felt really good to kiss him. His other hand circled your waist as you tentatively placed your hands on either side of his face. When he pulled back you felt your heart stop once again. 

“You’re sure that was your first time?” He teased and you laughed. 

“Pretty sure,” you chuckled. 

“When can I see you again?” He asked, bashfully smiling.  

“I’ll be at the next race, or here,” you explained. “So whenever it works for you.”

“What about-”

“OSCAR?! You picked Oscar?!” Toto shouted, making both of you jump apart. “Absolutely not! Y/n get up here!” 

You sighed. “Text me about the date? Yeah?”

He nodded, laughing (trying to hide his terror of Toto) as he watched you go upstairs and start trying to explain to Toto.

⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[ijustwannabecool]

Moments You Wish You Caught on Camera

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary... Six strangers. Six ordinary places. One unforgettable couple. This is a collection of short, cinematic glimpses into Max Verstappen’s life with the woman he’s loved since high school. Seen through the eyes of strangers who just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

A/N: Happy reading. I loved writing this piece and I hope to write more pieces like this, with Max and other drivers. You guys let me know who you wanna see next. As always enjoy it and have a beautiful day!!!

If you enjoy this story don't forget to like, reblog, and comment your thoughts and feedback.

---

The Pediatric Waiting Room

— Sofia, a tired new mom running on a lukewarm oat milk latte, not expecting to witness a world champion be a world-class dad.

It was 8:07 a.m., and Sofia was already regretting not canceling the appointment.

Her youngest had just started cutting teeth and had been up at 3:15, 4:52, and again at 6:01—each time with a cry like she was personally offended by the universe. Her toddler was whining for screen time, the diaper bag was short one essential wipe packet, and her phone had just died after playing Cocomelon on repeat.

The waiting room was mercifully empty. Cold, quiet, sterile. Just her, a too-small chair, and a little boy whose nose was running like a faucet.

Then the door creaked open, and in stepped someone she almost didn’t believe was real.

First, the man. Tall. Athletic. Messy hair tucked under a cap. Hoodie. Sweat shorts. That kind of effortless “I’ve got my shit together even though I definitely haven’t slept” vibe.

Then the baby carrier.

A tiny girl inside, swaddled in a soft floral blanket, a yellow pacifier in her rosebud mouth. Peaceful.

Then the toddler on his hip—grinning around a banana biscuit, curly hair tousled like he’d rolled straight out of bed and into a Gap ad.

And then her.

The woman.

Clearly postpartum. Puffy eyes, leggings, nursing tank, hospital socks still peeking from her sneakers. Yet… radiant. And holding herself like she was used to being loved out loud.

Sofia couldn’t look away.

They settled into the opposite corner. The man gently set the baby carrier down first, then lowered the toddler into a seat with a whispered, “Remember our agreement? Sit quietly until snacks, yeah?”

The toddler gave a dramatic thumbs-up.

Y/N approached the check-in desk, voice low and melodic as she confirmed their appointment for baby girl’s six-week weight check.

Max—because now Sofia realized that’s who he was, Max Verstappen—leaned over the carrier, adjusting the pacifier and brushing a finger over the baby’s cheek. His hoodie bunched at the elbows, revealing the black-and-gray ink on his forearm.

“She’s still got those hiccups, huh?” he murmured to her, voice so soft that Sofia almost didn’t hear it.

“She’s just dramatic like you,” Y/N teased, returning to sit beside him.

“You say dramatic, I say expressive.”

She rolled her eyes affectionately, curling into his side.

Sofia turned her gaze back to her own child, who was gnawing on a toy giraffe like it owed him money, but she couldn’t help but steal glances at them.

There was a rhythm to them. An unspoken choreography. Max peeled open a pouch of applesauce, offered it to the toddler with practiced hands, and even remembered to wipe the crumbs off his chin without missing a beat.

Y/N shifted the baby, cooing when she stirred. “She’s getting fussy.”

Max was already unzipping the diaper bag. “Bottle?”

Y/N frowned. “Shit. I think I forgot it. I—” Her voice cracked with guilt. “I thought it was in the side pocket. I triple-checked. God, I’m so tired, Max.”

“Hey,” he cut in immediately, warm and gentle. “She’s fine. We’ve got options. We always do.”

“I didn’t bring a cover either,” she added quietly. “I’ll go feed her in the car.”

“No,” he said firmly, already pulling his hoodie over his head and handing it to her. “You stay here. We’re good right here.”

He used the hoodie to drape over her shoulder while she adjusted her top and helped the baby latch on.

“There we go,” he murmured, rubbing small circles into her back. “You’re doing great.”

The room was still, silent, except for the suckling sounds and the cartoon jingle still stuck in Sofia’s head.

After a few minutes, Y/N whispered, “I just… I don’t know if she’s getting enough milk. She pulls off a lot. I think I messed up something with my supply.”

Max shook his head. “Babe. She’s got cheeks like brioche buns and arms like croissants. She’s fine.”

Y/N huffed a laugh, resting her head against his. “Croissants?”

“You heard me. That’s pure Dutch baby chub. I know quality carbs when I see them.”

When the nurse finally called them back, Max scooped up the toddler, hoisted the carrier with his free arm, and glanced at Y/N.

“You okay, mama?”

She nodded. “As long as you’re right here.”

He grinned. “Always.”

Sofia watched them go, still stunned by what she’d witnessed: a world champion who didn’t care about being recognized, a mom who looked like a goddess in leggings, and a love that looked like it was built on inside jokes, sleepless nights, and endless grace.

She pulled out her phone to text her husband:

"We’re trying skin-to-skin tonight. And also, maybe don’t complain when I forget wipes. Just tell me I’m doing great like Max Verstappen did.”

---

The Tiny Café in Tuscany

— Luca, travel writer, espresso enthusiast, and recently dumped romantic.

It was a sleepy café tucked on the corner of a side street in San Gimignano—one of those blink-and-you-miss-it places where the tiles were chipped, the espresso machine screamed like an old woman in a mood, and the overhead fan wobbled dangerously every time someone opened the door.

Luca had been coming here every morning for a week, hunched over his laptop, pretending to update his travel blog while actually stewing over a messy breakup with a man who said things like, “I need freedom” and “You’re too intense.”

It was on day five, as he swirled the last bitter sip of his third espresso and stared blankly at the same paragraph for the sixth time, that the door jingled behind him—and he looked up.

The couple didn’t match the usual tourist aesthetic. No clunky cameras, no loud American voices. Just a man in a navy hoodie and black shorts—tall, relaxed, with sun-kissed skin and a quiet sort of confidence. His hand rested lightly on the lower back of the woman beside him, who was wearing loose linen pants and a tank top tucked in with no effort but all the grace in the world.

They were talking softly in a strange blend of Dutch and English—Luca caught pieces of both as they approached the counter.

“No, Max,” she laughed, gently elbowing him. “You had two yesterday.”

He mock-pouted, a hint of an accent curling around his words. “That’s called balance. Two yesterday, one today. I’m growing.”

The barista, clearly familiar with them, didn’t even ask for names. Just smiled and went to work preparing their usual: two cappuccinos, one extra hot, and a slice of fig-and-honey tart.

They slid into the table directly in front of Luca—angled just enough that he could pretend to be focused on his screen while secretly watching them over the rim of his coffee cup.

“I had a dream last night you forgot our anniversary,” Y/N said as she took the first sip of her coffee. “You gave me socks.”

“Were they at least good socks?” Max asked, pretending to be offended.

“They had race cars on them.”

He grinned. “So… on brand. What’s the problem?”

“You told me they were on sale.”

Max placed a dramatic hand over his heart. “Discounted love. Brutal.”

She leaned in, nudging her shoulder into his. “You know what’s worse? I still said thank you in the dream. Like a chump.”

“You’re a very polite chump.”

They laughed—quiet, unassuming, private laughter that made Luca feel like he was seeing something he wasn’t meant to.

He watched Max tear off a piece of tart and offer it to her on his fork. She opened her mouth with the same ease someone might accept a kiss.

The domesticity of it all—the comfort, the familiarity, the rightness—ached in Luca’s chest.

They weren’t checking their phones. They weren’t documenting the moment. They were just… being.

Max leaned his elbow on the table, fingers threading lazily through the ends of her hair as he spoke. “Do you remember that café in Bruges? The one with the green door?”

“The one where the waiter spilled a whole espresso in your lap?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, eyes soft. “I think that was the first time I realized I wanted this with you. All of it.”

She blinked, caught off-guard. “Because I laughed at you?”

“Because you didn’t care about the stain. You just said, ‘Well, now you match the chair.’ And I remember thinking… fuck, this is the person I want next to me when things go wrong.”

Y/N’s expression crumpled slightly with affection, her hand reaching to curl around his wrist. “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t have the words then.”

Luca was still staring when Max glanced up, eyes locking with his for a brief second.

Not in a confrontational way. Just a knowing look. Like he knew Luca had heard everything. Like he didn’t mind, as long as it made someone believe in something again.

He turned back to Y/N, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“You still get this little line here,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over the corner of her eye. “Right before you cry. You’ve had it since we were seventeen.”

She swatted at him. “Stop making me sentimental, Verstappen.”

“I’m serious. It’s my favorite wrinkle.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Wrinkle?”

“Expression line,” he corrected immediately, grinning like he was proud of himself.

They finished their cappuccinos slowly, not rushing, like they had all the time in the world.

And when they stood to leave, Max held the door for her—let her step out first like it was second nature—and tucked his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose without releasing her hand.

They disappeared around the corner.

Luca stared down at his blank document for a moment longer before finally typing:

“Sometimes love doesn’t need to be loud to be heard. Sometimes it just needs a morning, a fig tart, and someone who remembers your first wrinkle.”

And for the first time in days, he meant every word.

----

The School Fundraiser

— Camille, 27, first-year teacher, very overwhelmed, very underpaid, and absolutely not ready to witness Max Verstappen handing out juice boxes like a literal dad dream.

Camille had been teaching first grade for exactly four weeks and seventeen hours.

And she already knew that if one more parent tried to explain why their child didn’t need to follow “standardized discipline guidelines,” she would fake her own death and move to Spain.

The school fundraiser was supposed to be a “light lift,” according to her ever-optimistic vice principal.

Which was, apparently, a lie.

Because nothing about organizing a bake sale, a bouncy house, three food trucks, a dunk tank, a raffle, and a very temperamental face-painting volunteer felt light. Her hair was frizzing. Her shirt was stuck to her back. A juice box had exploded in her tote bag.

She was stress-sorting Capri Suns when she heard the murmurs.

“Is that…?”

“No way.”

“Wait, that is Max Verstappen.”

Camille looked up—half expecting it to be a false alarm or some dad who just looked like him. But no. It was him.

Walking across the school field in a white linen shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows, sunglasses pushed back into his hair, a backpack slung over one shoulder… holding hands with his toddler.

Behind them was a woman holding a baby strapped to her chest in a linen wrap, her other hand gripping the shoulder of a little boy in a Lightning McQueen hat who was dancing along the pavement like the ground was lava.

They looked so normal. And yet, not.

Max squatted down to fix the toddler’s shoe, glancing up at his wife. “Did we bring sunscreen?”

Y/N patted her tote. “Already did them before we left.”

He nodded. “That’s why you’re the boss.”

The baby squirmed in the wrap, and Y/N bounced instinctively, her voice light. “You’d think we’d remember to bring the pacifier.”

Max reached into his pocket and pulled one out. “Already ahead of you.”

“God, marry me.”

He glanced up, deadpan. “We are married.”

She smiled. “Marry me again.”

They made their way to the games area, Max lifting the toddler up so he could see better. “Where to, kleine muis?”

The little boy pointed at the duck pond game with such confidence that Max saluted. “Duck game it is.”

Camille tried to focus on organizing the juice cooler, but her eyes kept trailing back to them—especially when they came to her table.

“Hi!” Y/N greeted. “Can we grab some waters?”

“Of course,” Camille replied, fumbling a little. “They’re… they’re cold-ish.”

“Honestly, cold-ish is perfect,” Y/N said with a warm smile. “We’ll take four.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think the kids will go straight for the soda?”

“They can try,” she said, already tucking the bottles into her tote.

Max turned to Camille with a grin. “Let me guess. First year?”

Camille blinked. “How did you…?”

“The look of despair. I had the same one during my first press conference.” He said.

She laughed despite herself. “I wasn’t aware that despair was that universal.”

“It is. But you’re doing great,” he added sincerely. “This all looks amazing.”

Y/N nodded, reaching into her wallet. “Can we donate directly to your class?”

Camille’s heart skipped. “Oh—you don’t have to—”

“We want to,” Y/N insisted gently, tucking a folded bill into the donation jar.

Camille glanced down after they walked away and nearly choked.

A hundred euros.

Who just casually dropped that into a fundraiser jar?

The answer: apparently Max Verstappen’s wife.

—

An hour later, Camille was managing the chaos near the dunk tank when she saw them again—this time sitting on a picnic blanket beneath the shade of a tree. The toddler was in Max’s lap, licking an orange popsicle with sticky fingers. Y/N was lying on her side, her baby curled up against her chest as she wiped her son's mouth with a napkin.

“Easy, liefje,” she murmured when he got too excited and nearly dropped it.

“He’s trying to break his own record,” Max said, biting into his own popsicle and wincing. “Brain freeze. Why do I do this to myself?”

Y/N chuckled, tucking her bare feet under his thigh. “Because you never learn.”

He looked at her for a second too long.

Then, with all the gentle devotion in the world, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I’m glad we came.”

She closed her eyes for a second, as if just letting herself feel the moment. “Me too.”

Camille tried not to stare. But it was like watching a scene from a movie that somehow escaped into the real world.

No drama. No noise. Just… partnership. Parenting. Love.

When the toddler reached up and touched Max’s cheek with a melting hand, Max just kissed his palm and said, “Sticky boy. My sticky boy.”

Camille went home that night and told her roommate, “Max Verstappen came to our fundraiser and made me believe in love again.”

And she wasn’t even exaggerating.

---

The Supermarket

— Zoë, 35, single, newly heartbroken, and very much just trying to buy oat milk and not cry in the produce section.

Zoë wasn’t in the mood to see anyone that day.

She’d cried in her car for twenty minutes in the parking lot, then sat scrolling through TikTok about “healing energy” while pretending she hadn’t just been ghosted by a man who once wrote her a poem about her freckles.

All she wanted was to get through her grocery list and be home before the sobbing resumed. The universe, however, had other plans.

Because as she turned into the snack aisle—debating between regular sea salt chips and the fancy truffle ones that cost way too much—she saw them.

Not in a tabloid. Not on TikTok.

In real life.

It was Max Verstappen.

Pushing a slightly scuffed shopping cart, baseball cap backwards, hoodie on, brows furrowed like he was solving a math equation instead of comparing two different brands of oat milk.

Next to him was a woman who could only be described as… anchored.

She didn’t look like a celebrity’s wife. She looked like someone who smelled like vanilla and fresh laundry. Her hair was tied in a messy bun. Her leggings had a juice stain near the knee. A toddler sat in the cart seat, happily munching on crackers.

And trailing behind them—barefoot inside Spider-Man crocs—was a little boy in a Red Bull jacket, holding a box of waffles like it was treasure.

“Did you write down whether it was the almond milk or oat milk that made her stomach weird?” Max asked, waving the carton slightly.

Y/N squinted at her notes app. “It just says ‘milk (weird tummy?)’ — which is completely useless. This is past-me setting us up for failure.”

Max sighed dramatically. “She’s going to be gassy for three days and we’ll never sleep again.”

“We never sleep anyway.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Zoë tried to duck behind a display of pretzels but ended up knocking a bag off the stack. It crinkled loudly. Mortifying.

Max glanced up — not with irritation, but mild curiosity — and when their eyes met, he gave her a small, polite smile. Then turned back to his wife like the world had narrowed back to just them.

“Do we have enough diapers?” Y/N asked.

“Define enough.”

“For two nights away and three ‘blowout emergencies.’”

Max tilted his head. “So… a hundred?”

“Give or take.”

He smirked and offered her the oat milk carton. “We’ll gamble. She’s had worse.”

Zoë followed them — not intentionally, just… coincidentally — into the produce section.

They were standing by the bananas when the toddler in the cart dropped her snack container and immediately began to whimper, tears bubbling up in her big blue eyes.

“Oh no, don’t cry,” Y/N cooed, reaching for it—but Max was faster.

He picked it up, brushed it off, and crouched so they were eye-level. “Hey, kleine prinses. Look—it’s back. Just a little floor spice. Builds immunity.”

The baby blinked at him, then gave a hiccupy giggle before popping a cracker into her mouth.

“You’re so weird,” Y/N said fondly, watching him rise.

“You married me,” he shot back, brushing his hands off on his sweats.

“And I’d do it again. But only if you promise to stop saying ‘floor spice’ in public.”

“I make no promises.”

The little boy—Ezra, they called him—was tugging at Y/N’s sleeve, holding out the waffle box.

“Can we get two? One for home and one for the car ride?”

Y/N crouched down, eyes level with his. “Do you promise not to eat them all before dinner again?”

“I pinky swear on Daddy’s racing helmet.”

Max gasped. “That’s legally binding. Now you have to behave.”

Ezra beamed as his mom kissed the top of his curls and stood back up.

They wandered past Zoë again near the bakery, Max now balancing a bouquet of tulips awkwardly in one hand.

“Who are those for?” Y/N asked, amused.

He shrugged, adjusting the flowers. “You. You’ve been in a mood lately and I like it when you smile.”

She blinked at him, stunned for a moment. “I’m not in a mood.”

Max raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, I’m maybe…slightly overwhelmed.”

“You’re allowed. But flowers still help.”

They shared a look so full of unspoken history that Zoë had to look away.

Later, while unloading at self-checkout, Max gently peeled open the baby’s fruit pouch and helped Ezra scan his waffle box. Y/N was half-asleep on her feet, leaning against the cart as he gently nudged her shoulder.

“Go wait in the car. I’ll finish up and load it.”

“You sure?”

He kissed her forehead. “Always.”

She left with the kids, and Max packed the groceries methodically, organizing by category.

Zoë stood frozen in line behind him, cradling her oat milk and sadness like a broken promise.

And then Max turned, caught her staring again, and—once more—just smiled.

Not like a celebrity. Not like a man who thought he was better.

Just a tired dad, happy husband, and guy who clearly lived for the people who called him home.

As he walked out of the store with a bag in one hand and tulips in the other, Zoë opened her Notes app and typed something new.

“It’s not the big gestures. It’s someone remembering oat milk, wiping cracker crumbs off your mouth, and handing you tulips in aisle seven because they just want you to smile again.”

---

The Train Station

— Matteo, 19, pizza delivery guy, chain smoker, and hopeless romantic against his better judgment.

He didn’t mean to stare.

But the girl was crying, and the guy was arguing with a vending machine, and somehow both things were happening like they’d done it a hundred times before.

Matteo was sitting on a bench at the Eindhoven train station, waiting for the 3:15. He was sweaty, out of cigarettes, and coming off a breakup where his girlfriend said he was “emotionally dense” because he forgot their six-month anniversary.

Whatever.

He wasn’t eavesdropping. He just… noticed things.

Like how the girl in the jean jacket had smudged eyeliner and messy hair twisted into a bun with a pen. And how the guy in the Red Bull hoodie kept slapping the side of the vending machine like it had personally insulted him.

“You’re not eating M&Ms for lunch,” the girl said, sniffling.

“I wasn’t going to. I was going to eat them for comfort,” he muttered, still jabbing the buttons.

“You literally have a race tomorrow.”

Max turned, grinning. “And if I crash, I want to know I died with peanut chocolate in my bloodstream.”

“Max.”

He sighed like it physically pained him, turned, and held out his arms. “Okay, okay. Come here, crybaby.”

She glared at him but walked straight into his hug. He wrapped his arms around her like he’d done it a thousand times.

Matteo watched her melt instantly.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled against his chest.

“You’re allowed to be upset. Your parents were unfair.” He leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. “But I’m proud of you for coming anyway.”

She wiped her eyes. “I look disgusting.”

“You look like my future wife.”

Matteo blinked. He hadn’t expected that.

She shoved him lightly. “You’re such a liar.”

“Nope,” Max replied, tone light but his eyes serious. “I’ve known since the first time you wore that ugly jean jacket.”

“Hey!”

“You looked like someone who’d ruin my life.”

“And?”

“You did. And I love it.”

They were quiet for a minute, sitting on the bench beside Matteo. Close enough for him to smell her cherry chapstick and his cheap cologne.

Max reached into his backpack and pulled out a chocolate croissant wrapped in a napkin. “Didn’t get your M&Ms. Got you this instead.”

Her face lit up like a child on Christmas. “You remembered?”

“You always want croissants when you’re sad.”

“I do.”

Matteo saw it then—saw the whole damn thing. The beginnings of forever.

They were too young. Too reckless. A little dramatic. But there was something magnetic about the way they looked at each other, like they were already writing the rest of their lives in real time.

As the train pulled in and they stood, Max laced their fingers together like it was automatic. She leaned her head on his shoulder, still holding the croissant.

They walked onto the train like two people who didn’t know how rare that kind of love was. Who didn’t need to.

Matteo pulled out his cracked phone and wrote a note he’d forget about until years later:

“Sometimes forever starts at a vending machine. And the person who buys you a croissant instead of saying the right thing is the one who actually gets it.”

---

The Airport Lounge

— Helena, 42, business consultant, solo traveler, professional people-watcher, and casual believer in fate.

The Zurich airport lounge was surprisingly quiet for a Friday afternoon.

Helena had parked herself near the floor-to-ceiling windows with a glass of pinot and a half-read book she was pretending to finish. Her flight to Madrid had been delayed, and she was nursing the rare, delicious silence that came with noise-canceling headphones and no Slack notifications.

Until she noticed them.

They weren’t loud or dramatic. Just… still.

The woman sat curled up in the corner of a leather armchair, knees tucked beneath her, oversized hoodie swallowing her whole, damp curls loosely braided down her back. She had a book open on her lap but wasn’t reading it.

Instead, she was watching the man beside her — Max Verstappen, though it took Helena a moment to place him without the racing suit, the cameras, or the speed.

He looked softer like this.

He was seated slightly sideways in the chair, legs stretched out, thumb stroking lazy lines into her ankle where it rested against his thigh.

Her sock had a tiny embroidered mushroom on it. He was focused on it like it held secrets.

They weren’t speaking. Not really. Just occasionally exchanging glances, faint smiles, little movements that spoke volumes.

Max reached into his backpack and pulled out a tupperware container. “Eat,” he said simply, handing it to her.

“I’m not hungry,” she murmured.

“You always say that and then eat half of mine.”

She squinted at him. “Is it the good pasta?”

“The good one. From that place near the ferry.”

“…I hate you.”

He grinned. “You love me.”

“I do.”

Helena didn’t mean to watch. But it was hard to look away from something that looked so much like home.

After a few quiet bites, the woman reached over, tugging the hem of Max’s sleeve with childlike gentleness. “Do you have to go today?”

Max hesitated. “Yeah.”

He said it softly. Not coldly. Like he hated the truth of it just as much as she did.

She nodded, lips pressing into a tight line. “It’s just a few days. I’ll be fine.”

He didn’t try to talk her out of it. Instead, he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Open it after I leave.”

“Is this a love letter?”

“It’s a maybe-you-won’t-murder-me-for-being-gone-so-long letter.”

She smiled, but Helena saw the way her fingers tightened around the paper.

“I left little notes in your bag,” Max added. “One in your book, one in the snack pocket, and one in your makeup bag.”

“That’s excessive.”

“That’s love,” he shrugged.

Helena found herself blinking rapidly.

She wasn’t used to seeing people who still made space for each other like that. Who weren’t rushing, glued to their phones, or distracted by other people.

Just present.

After a while, Max stood, stretching slightly. His flight had been called.

He reached for his carry-on, then paused and knelt in front of her.

“C’mere,” he said softly.

She leaned down, and he kissed her — not rushed, not showy, but full. Her hands slipped into his hoodie, his thumb brushed her cheekbone, and Helena knew she wasn’t the only one watching now.

But neither of them cared.

When they parted, Max rested his forehead against hers for a beat. “See you Monday.”

“See you Monday.”

She didn’t cry. She didn’t cling. But as he walked away, she held that letter to her chest like it was armor.

Helena watched her breathe in slowly. Then she tucked the note into her book and picked up her phone—not to scroll, but to open the photos app.

She was scrolling through pictures.

Ones of Max. Their kids, probably. A dog, maybe.

Every one made her smile in that quiet, half-wistful way that meant: I’ll be okay, but I miss you already.

Helena turned back to her wine thinking about how beautiful of a relationship they had.

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 5 of the Danny is a clone/reincarnation in DC au. Tw: discussions of sa and child sa

[Part 4 here]

Danny is not sure how he got talked into this. Sure, he's been steadily getting better at "normal" interactions over the last 2 and a half years, and he's met or is family with everyone here, but it's still a lot. It's Dick, Wally, Kori, Raven, Jon, Damian, Kon, Bernard, Tim, Jason, Roy, and him all camped out in the second largest family room for a sleepover. Sort of. As overwhelmed as he feels, it's still rather fun.

They have movies playing in the background while they all play different games. At first, different groups split off to play board games or card games, but Dick decided they should play something all together. It was hard to find something that accommodated so many players, so they decided to play never have I ever.

Danny could even play honestly because everyone here knows about his "second set" of memories. So there's no questions if he puts a finger down to something he hasn't technically done from their perspective. But it does mean they hone in when he hesitates.

"Never have I ever lost my virginity." Damian said it because he knew Tim, Jason, and Dick would put their fingers down, but his eyes widen when Danny debates if he should. "Seriously?"

"I'm not sure it counts.." Danny shifts uncomfortably.

"Oh-ho! You lose it to someone Before?" Jason teases, "Who was it? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?"

"Jason.." Dick scolds while staring hard at Danny. He's clearly pieced it together. There's this look on his face that isn't sympathy, but empathy. Danny feels sick knowing his eldest brother knows exactly what he means because he's also been through something similar.

"I've actually never made it past kissing with a romantic interest." Danny can see the exact moment his very specific wording clicks. He starts trembling as a bunch of ugly emotions make themselves known.

"Shit."

"Danny-"

"I don't think it counts." Dick cuts everyone off, his sunshine smile nowhere to be seen. "No more than my assaults should be considered cheating."

The way Kori flinches leads Danny to believe that's exactly what she accused him of at some point. He knows they're exs, but didn't know the details. The guilt written all over her over this topic is reassuring, though.

"Sometimes things happen outside of our control." Dick gives a small sad smile. "Which means we can't blame ourselves. We just figure out how to live in the aftermath."

The fact Dick has been sexually assaulted seems to be news to everyone, but Wally and Kori. The anger on both of their behalves is heartwarming, but Danny just feels the need to scrub his skin raw. The images of the pedophiles pretending to be scientists flashing before his eye and their phantom touches making him feel dirty.

"I'm never going to escape what that lab did to me.."

"You already are." Kon pipes up. "Look around you, kid. Even just a year ago, you wouldn't have agreed to be part of this hangout. Sure, the scars will never go away, you'll have moments where you feel like nothing but an experiment or a tool, instead of the kind and bright person you are, but that's okay-"

"Whenever you forget. The people who care about you will just have to remind you!" Jon's bright grin has sadness mixed in it.

"Danny?" Tim shuffles closer. "Can I hug you?"

Danny doesn't verbally answer, just nods and crawls into Tim's lap. Danny curls up tightly and whispers. "I think I'm done playing for now."

"Alright.." Tim hugs him close, rubbing soothing circles on his back. A glance towards Dick reveals Wally and Kori have him sandwiched between them, giving him comfort.

"How..." Jason starts slowly, clearly still recovering from the information that his eldest and youngest brothers have both been assaulted. "How about we play Uno? We have 3 packs worth, so there should be enough."

Danny knows this won't be the last time the topic of their assaults are brought up, but it's a weird sort of painful healing to even just acknowledge it happened. It'll probably also stop them from trying to push him into relationships like they do with Damian. He can't stomach the thought of dating currently. He's happy just sticking to platonic affection for now.

[lovepotionsz]

Mark & Mark Variants x Viltrumite GN!Reader (Mohawk-No Goggles) (Suggestive)

CW: Minor pet death (not caused by you, mark or variants) , dubious consent from reader on the variant parts.

WC: 2.9k

You were sent to earth by the Empire as a child, to gather intel and return to Viltrum when you hit 25 in human years. You did as you were told, you did your best to be this cold-hearted, brutal strong viltrumite, but you couldn’t be what they wanted in the end. Your family was so loving, your friends were too precious, you got to learn what compassion and empathy felt like. You cried, you smiled, you felt your heart drop to your stomach, you laughed with your friends drunk out of your minds near a 7/11 at 3 am, and laughed so hard you threw up. You felt your heart get torn to pieces when you saw your first crush kiss another person, you grieved when your family cat passed away, and you felt anger at the drunk driver that took your precious cat — no, friend. 

You felt more alive than you ever could back in the Empire. You didn’t care about that selfish mission anymore, couldn’t give two shits about conquering and ruling, earth was amazing as is. Yes, it was full of corruption and suffering, but it also harbored love so undoing you never even thought to fight back. That’s why, when you were offered to protect the beauty of this world, you agreed instantly. Your parents were apprehensive, worried about you, but you convinced them after a heartful crying session on the family couch– the same couch that your parent had wrapped a bandage around your ankle so worriedly, not knowing your twisted ankle had already healed. You didn’t tell them that it did. Your canvas of this world was already full of colors of all the emotions you have lived through.

Though, somehow, the colors on the canvas shined brighter than any sun the day that you met him. 

“Hey, name’s Invincible, let’s do some good together, yeah? God was that– was that too corny?,” he awkwardly rubbed at his neck, you could sense his body temperature rise up without skin contact – viltrumite genes – you had chuckled at his awkwardness, introduced yourself and you two hit it off that day. Your missions together always went well, your quick wit and strategies plus your durability complimented his agility and strength– dancing with you as defense and him as offense, a powerful, impenetrable waltz to any enemy.

You went to shitty fast food places after missions, ate melted ice creams at 3 am close to that same 7/11, he stayed at your place until sun rose up playing video games and reading comics – you learned he was a huge seance dog fan as well – you went to huge comic cons, helping each other get into cosplay.

He looked deep into your eyes as you applied a tiny bit of blush on his cheeks, he honestly looked stunning, however the eye contact wasn’t helping your fast beating heart, and you’re pretty sure he can hear it. You don’t know where his powers come from yet, but, you just know he can hear your heart leaping from your ribcage every time your eyes catch his.

“I know I’m gorgeous, but you’re staring, Grayson,” you managed to roll out with a sarcastic tone, you watched as he blinked himself out of a trance– did he even know he was staring that hard?

“I’m so– so sorry, I just- I uh,” his eyes going everywhere but your eyes now, caught and too embarrassed to admit he was staring. 

“You can keep going, sorry uh– for the staring,” you chuckled softly at how red the tips of his ears had gotten, feeling a warm sensation envelop your whole being as you add the finishing touches to his makeup, you got your face closer to his so close that you saw how his eyes widened, and his pupils dilated just a bit– that made you smile softly, “you can look as much as you like, pretty boy,” you laughed despite yourself at how red his whole face was now despite the makeup, stopping yourself and apologizing softly as you heard him grumble. You teased him all day about it though, after all, the feelings you’ve harbored for months were not unrequited, for the first time since meeting him, you felt elated once again. 

After that, he asked you out after a particular rough mission where your comms were broken, and you couldn’t talk to him for almost the entire mission– he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you to a freak accident on the job, and he really couldn’t lose you to his cowardice by not asking you out and watching you slip out of his hands. Your first date went as you’d expect– fighting a titan like being as you flirted with each other and stole a kiss or two in the air.

You both decided that you deserved a cheap, sugary and salty meal and grabbed food from burger mart, eating on the rooftop of a skyscraper, watching the sun set.

You laughed as he tried to stuff the fries into his mouth before they went cold and soggy, you let him have a sip of your soda– he drank from the same straw you used – your hands inching closer with each passing minute before they connected together with your lips, the sun was just setting, his mouth tasted like cheap burger and soggy fries, his lips soft and inviting as he followed your lead. The kiss was clumsy, filled with awkward chuckles and giggles, trying to angle yourselves properly, but it was yours. The moment, the kiss, each other's touch, it was all yours, he was all yours, the man that mad every hour of training and fighting villains worth it was finally yours.

Then he opened that stupid – pretty – mouth, 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you this, but– are you a Viltrumite?”

You felt boiling water spill on your head, down to your whole body when your brain registered his words. 

He knew! He knew and he–

“How– How do you even know that?”

Without realizing, your entire body went rigid, your eyes wide and your heart was beating so fast it threatened to burst Mark’s eardrums, “I… guessed? Your powers are so similar to mine, the way you use them, the way your body moves in battle– and uh a gut feeling, you could say,” his explanation only made you realize how sloppy you had gotten around him, something a Viltrumite should never be, it’s all your fault, they’re going to find you, you need to get away now. 

You hadn’t realized how frantic your breathing had gotten, how much your body was shaking as your brain took a few seconds to realize you were being hugged and Mark was trying to talk to you. You took a breath and pushed him away, watching as his face contorted in worry, his eyes frantic as his mouth opened to say something, but you interrupted him,

“Are you going to take me to them? Why did you even let me kiss you if you knew– why did you let me so close if you knew? Oh god, I need to–”

“I’m a Viltrumite too!” 

His voice rang in your ears, his words ricocheting around in your brain as you finally process them, and you look into his eyes, “You… are?” you saw his form relax, and he shifted his body closer to yours, taking your hands in his as gentle as he could– god he’s so warm – “yes, that’s why I wanted to know if you were one as well, I’m not going to tell anyone if you don’t want me to–” he exhaled a shaky breath, “I could never allow anything to hurt you, and if you think this information is dangerous I will take it to my grave,” he pulled your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “you’re safe with me, baby, always,” you couldn't form words, you could only let him hug you as your body shook with each sob escaping from you, his soft words and gentle touches comforting you as you feel the weight of the world release from your shoulders.

He knew, he didn’t care, he still loved you. 

His face held such a gentle expression as he kissed you again, you felt like your body would shatter then and there.

Yet, your newly blossoming relationship wouldn’t have peace for long as they were here, the so-called Variants. 

Mark warned you to hide, that surely they would target you. However, you had a family to protect, a lover to defend, you simply couldn’t stand still and do nothing.

You leaped through the air like a bullet, your sight zoning on the variant not far from you as you took a deep breath and leaped down.

Mohawk Mark

His cackle as he was stomping some guys head in got cut short with a pained groan as you your feet landed on his back, the momentum from your leap making the hit more affective.

You squinted as the dust and the debris hit you in the face, along with the variants blood, your face scrunched up in disgust as you leaped back when you felt him move. He grunted as he got up, you turned your eyes to your back for a second to confirm that civilians were being evacuated. Good. You could fight properly, then. Your attention snapped back to him as he exclaimed your name with an astounded shout.

“Holy shit! You’re on Earth!?” 

When your expressions turned to a puzzled one, he sighed and put his hand on his hip– like you were the stupid one between the two of you.

“Y’know, you’re from the Empire, you never left, and you were sent to stop me but fell in love with me instead, duh!” 

“What the fuck are you talking about, spiky?” 

He barked a laugh at the nickname, “as foul-mouthed as always, aren’t you? Fuck, I missed that,”

You rolled your eyes, using the ground to gain momentum, bending your knees, forming an X with your arms in front of your face before leaping at him with full force. You both grunted in effort– well you did, his was from was pleasure unbeknownst to you – as you both went through the prison, concrete, debris, and the glass had you closing Yorubas to avoid damaging said organs, you really need them right now.

You coughed a few times while your eyes adjusted to your surroundings, breath ripping from your throat as you feel him kick you right on the stomach, which sends you violently flying through the building to the outside of it once again. You shake your head as you get up, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would, this fucker was holding back, he was underestimating you. Your eyes locked on his with as much anger and spite you could muster as he whistled with that damn fucking smirk on his face, taunting you.

“Damn, you look as hot as I remember when you get angry like that,” 

You huffed, trying not to let his taunts get to you as he stepped closer, taking one, two as he sped up, and you blocked the incoming kick with your arms, hissing in pain as you got pushed onto your back to the ground, you planted your hands on the ground on the either side of your waist as you willed your body to get up, god your arms were burning– a gasp left you as the variant sat on your pelvis, planting himself there, unmoving even as your legs kicked. 

You finally looked up at him, his cheeks were dusted the faintest shade of pink as he looked down at you, his breathing hard as his chest moved up and down, pupils blown as wide as they could while drinking up your expression and how your body was twisting and turning to get away from him– he pinned both of your arms above your head with one hand, making you finally look at him fully instead of around him to look for an escape.

Fuck, “you look so fucking hot like that, I could get off just like this, what do you think hm?”

He cackled when he felt your entire body go rigid, “what, you a virgin?” he joked as his gaze never left your eyes, when your expression turned to one of shock and embarrassment, he felt his cock throb inside the spandex suit, “shit, you are!” he cackled once again when you looked offended but didn’t retort. He was right.

His face got so close to yours, your lips a breath away, “well, that dumbass should’ve been faster, then,” your eyes widened as he closed what was left of the distance between you as his lips latched onto yours. This wasn’t sweet, soft, or gentle like your Mark, it was rough, it hurt, it felt like he was tearing you apart in the best ways when his fang nipped your bottom lip– you groaned in pain as you felt him licking the blood seeping from the injury he made, your lips moving on their own as the smell, presence, and voice of Mark enveloped your brain, put a curtain over your judgment as said brain turned off, and your body took over.

You exhaled a breath when you felt his tongue enter your mouth, your body arching closer to him as you felt his chest rumble with approval. Your teeth and lips crashing into each other as your legs still kick at him as much as they can, he groaned every time you managed to hit him, the fucker likes it.

He chuckled breathlessly at your stupidly cute expression when he broke the kiss, he didn’t need to breathe but feeling your lips on his again felt so cathartic he didn’t give two shits about what Angstorm wanted from him anymore. You were as submissive, pliable and adorable as he remembered, with a lot less rough edges, but he could never complain when it came to you.

He’s taking you home.

No Goggles Mark

He squeaked in surprise as he felt your kick, hissing in pleasure as soon as he smelled you, disappointed when you bounced off from his back and landed in front of him with that expression that looked so sexy on you– he hasn’t blinked yet and that’s freaking you the fuck out. 

You watched in absolute confusion as he started giggling, biting down on his bottom lip so hard that it started bleeding, he didn’t seem to care about it though, getting up from the ground as those wild eyes never left yours. Okay, yeah, you were freaked out.

“Why the hell are you looking at me like–”

“How could I not? God, that was so fucking good, c’mon! Again! Again!”

You blinked a few times,

“You’re just gonna let me hit you–”

He groaned with impatience, “yes, yes I am! Fuck, come ooonnnn!” 

Well, if that’s what he wants.

You ran up to him and landed a kick right on his chest, he didn’t even blink, just watching you with as much attention a living organism could muster. It went on like this for a good 5 minutes, you hit, he moaned – which, hearing Mark moan that whiny did something to you that you do not want to unpack right now – you punched he begged for more, god you just looked and felt so fucking good. Your hits hurt so much, you actually broke a bone or two and the noise of them made you cringe, but they just made his cock throb and leak even more pre-cum inside the spandex suit.

You finally stopped to catch your breath as your foot planted him to the ground, his chest heaving and his body trembling with pleasure when you press your foot down harder on his chest, arching his body to get closer to yours. He looked down right mad, his face was bloody – his own, per his request – his hands now holding onto your leg, trying to reach your thigh as he slid himself up to get away from your grasp, he wants something more than this, and he wants it now. 

He yanks you down by the leg he was holding, – his heart rate spiking as he hears a sharp breath escape from your lungs – then, he does something that has your brain in alarm and your sex interested as he nuzzles your crotch with a groan. You try to push his head off of you, struggling to find words to make a retort or say something, as he pouts while looking up at you. 

“Whaaat? Don’t I get a reward for letting you have your fun?”

His fingers went to your waist, his nails digging in as you hiss from the sting and see him smile with those wide eyes looking up at you–

“The you from my world always let me have my fun when they were done with me, so c’mon,”

You swallowed thickly as you bit down on your lip, thinking of anything to say as you heard him huff and bit down a scream of pain when he dug his nails in to your sides and rake them down so he could see you bleed as he went down on you–

“Hmm, your body was always more honest,” he giggled as you hissed in pain when he dug his nails in the freshly made – by him – scratches, as he lapped on the crotch of your spandex suit like a dog. His eyes never leaving yours, just like how you’re never leaving again. Angstorm could go fuck himself, he got what he wanted, he’s taking you back after this.

[axetivev]

— Summary: Childhood friends with the strongest sorcerer. But high school separates you, but oh! When you two became older, you met again. You thought Satoru was still Satoru. But guess, you are wrong!

— Warnings/Tags: Yandere!Satoru, Reader is older than Gojo (2 year gap), Ooc Gojo (?), Childhood friends to lovers, smut, semi-public sex, marking, Mentioned multiple rounds, Mostly Vanilla lol.

— Words: 2.4k

— A/N: yeah, perhaps this isn't one of my best works,, writerblock and work really drains the living shit out of me. but really, i enjoyed writing this. requests are now open btw! I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as I enjoy writing this !! <3 (spoilers, a new oc is coming up !)

— Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Male!reader.

You’ve known Satoru since practically diapers. From your childhood, you remembered vividly that you were known to eh the energetic one while Satoru was more of the quiet one.

You remembered that day you met with his blue eyes, informations about his curse technique, everything. Your parents, well. They expected you two wouldn’t be so close, in their eyes, you were two years older then him and you too were weaker then him. They thought Satoru wouldn’t even want to play with you or even took a glance. But they were very very very wrong.

Despite that you were older then him. Somehow, you were more like the child then Satoru. Satoru himself? He was like the older one. Even if people doesn’t know much about them, it’s was so easily mistaken between who’s older and who’s younger. Not to mentioned, Satoru was also slightly taller then you.

“Gojo!!” You were giggling as you showed the white haired boy the frog in your hand as the frog let out a small sound. “I found a little frog!! Take a look!!”

Satoru looked at you, titling his head, slowly inspecting the certain “frog”. “...That’s a toad.”

“But it’s cute, right!” You smiled brightly at him. He can practically saw small stars inside of it, thought he doesn’t say it. Satoru loved it that you were smiling at him.

Only at him. No one else. Only him.

However, when highschool roles around. Specifically in Tokyo Jujutsu, it’s somewhat difficult to believe that you and Satoru was somehow, separable. You were close with Kento Nanami and Yu Haibara. Personally, in your eyes. Satoru already had his own friend group. Seguru Geto and Ierie Shoko. So why would you bother him so much since he already had more friends? Besides, in Tokyo Jujutsu, he was practically famous! Even once, you saw one of the teachers got embarrassed simply by looking at him.

But that decision might be the stupidest thing you’d ever do.

When you went to a mall with Nanami and Haibara. Time really messed with you, the first energetic child now become more of the calm one. You were looking at Haibara who was eagerly running around while Nanami, who was beside you kept pinching the bridge of his nose. Muttering about something you cannot really heard since the mall was rather filled by many.

“He has too much energy...” Nanami rubbed his face, you just chuckled beside him.

“Guys!!” Haibara eagerly walks up to you, grabbing your hands as he squeezed it. “I founded a photo booth right around the corner! Wanna check it out?”

“Yu—” Nanami was about to capture Haibara’s wrist, only for him to run away quickly. Nanami groaned as he followed the brown haired male’s steps.

You were just laughing to yourself seeing how funny and amusing the scene is to your eyes. Really, it’s fun to see both of them almost like tom and jerry whole you were just trying your best to not make a bigger scene. After your laugh, you were about to follow both Nanami and Haibara.

“[Name].”

You stopped mid track, your eyes widened and you felt your body tensed up. That voice... sounds so familiar. You immediately turned your head, you saw... no one. Nobody. Where you hearing things or that was actually someone calling you? You don’t really know, you were still puzzled by who’s voice it was—standing alone though many people were walking around you. It felt weird... you stood there long enough for Nanami and Haibara to go up to you. Their face was showing clear concerned. But you brushed them off.

“Just! Hearing... things. Nothing to worry!” You shrugged to both of them. Trying to act calm. But you knew; someone was watching you.

Time sure flies fast.

You lost Haibara. But still having Nanami, that’s now becoming more quiet from the past years. You can’t blame him, you also grief a lot since Haibara was the sunshine, with him not being around. Soon enough, you and Nanami slowly grew apart. Making you feel lonely most of the time.

You also heard about what happened to Satoru after years of basically silence. Honestly, you had your own urge to talk with him, but your parents wanted you to focus on school. Even so, that same voice that called you, the first time you heard it in the mall was played repeatably in your mind. Or what it actually that same voice kept calling you? You don’t really know, you just kept your mouth shut since there’s practically no one you can speak with.

And years of work, you now, found yourself to be a sorcerer. Working in the same high school you use to attend, a lot of students love you, and some hated you. The students who loved you said that though you’re strict, you were kind to them. Having actual effort in teaching them, while those you hated you? Yeah. The strict part—but some also had respect on you. Some saying you were better then a certain teacher that many girls in Tokyo Jujutsu often say was “too-handsome-to-be-a-teacher”.

It was a normal day in your class, you taught some of the students about basic stuff, and training. As the bell rang, before you could dismiss the class, a tall male came to the class. All of the students were gasping as they stare at the sorcerer who was standing with a stupid grin in his face, white haired, blindfolded eyes… Wait. Satoru—!?

Students already rose from their seats. Running to Satoru as if he was like an idol who would hiatus for a very long time after their first appearance. You just stood in your desk, he was like you remembered, his features were like you remembered. He’s just taller now, maybe—even taller then you. Satoru greets the students, like they were friends since forever, until that covered eyes of his stared at you, straight to your soul. It… hah?

“[Name].”

That voice… Satoru’s voice was similar—no, identical to that voice that often called you. Making you froze, slightly tensed up. You saw him walked up to you, you just looked at him, it was clear he was taller then you. Some of the students, who looked at both of you actually surprised to saw you being somehow shorter then you, when they knew you were older. But they didn’t really expect that you were shorter then him—now, that doesn’t really matter for your current position.

Satoru’s hands both clamped over your shoulder, you flinched. “Goj—”

“Let’s make out.” His voice was loud enough to be heard by every student in your class, your eyes widened, heck. Even some sorcerers took a peak from the door, Satoru doesn’t care probably, because you were literally being thrown to his shoulder before he dashed with a blink—!

“GOJO—HEY! PUT ME DOWN!!” You were practically yelling while you turned your head back. But the male seemed to be stubborn, unwilling to let go.

“Satoru, [Name]. I didn’t call you by your last name.” That was all he said, before he found an empty room, immediately locking the door. How did he even get access to the key…?

You were practically manhandled by Satoru, his hands, surprisingly bigger then yours, grabbed your hips before giving it a squeeze, you swore it will bruise later on. Satoru’s right hand, originally on your hip moved to your chin. You were now face to face with the man once your childhood best friend that grew apart, Satoru sighed as he pulled his blindfold. You then met with his blue eyes, your eyes widened for a second, your hand slowly tried to reached his black cloth.

“Ah, Goj—Satoru, your—" “I know, [Name].” Satoru held your wrist, giving it a tight squeezed that make you yelp. He led your wrist to his lips, placing a kiss—almost hesitant.

“[L.Name] [Name], finally… I got my hands on you. Again,” he empathize that word, you slightly titled your head. Satoru leaned forward, his teeth slowly contacting over your skin. Not enough for blood to flow but enough to make you gasped. “It’s been painful seeing you around him.”

Your legs tightened around his waist, you tried to said something, but Satoru pushed his index and middle finger to your mouth as he licked the place he had bite. He then slowly unbutton your shirt—placing wet kisses and some bite marks along the day. Your hands moved to his hair, as you yelp from the pain, but it felt good. Fuck, or were you just horny?

“Seriously, you were distant when we were in highschool,” Satoru let out a bitter laugh, his free hand moved down, almost urgently trying to unbuckled your belt. “Especially when you’re with them.”

“Sa–Satoru…” You whimpered, Satoru’s breath reached your ears. You gasped when your crotch, clearly show a tent forming was squeezed by him. A smirk played on his lips the moment Satoru unzipped your pants, letting it fall to the ground.

A whine escaped your lips when Satoru bit your ear. You haven’t or couldn’t see it, but you swore there’s a lot of marks in your body at this point. Satoru crashed his lips against yours, a moan escaped your lips as his tongue easily dominating yours. Such of a heated kiss that you failed to notice that fact Satoru already ripped your boxers as he continued to kiss you breathlessly.

The kiss wouldn’t end if you haven’t pulled his hair, a thin thread of saliva connecting between yours and Satoru’s lips. For a moment, you two just stare at each other. It felt a little… uncomfortable, to say the least. Just him, staring at you slowly ticks you off.

“…What?” You broke the silence. Satoru playfully rolled his eyes.

“Admiring you, but it seems you’re impatient,” Satoru let out a chuckle, you raised an eye brow—soon enough, you felt a fingers, specifically three, entered your hole. “You barely changed…”

His fingers thrust right into your prostate. Almost immediate, you thought at least he would go slow. But he doesn’t choose that route—his fingers opening you up—scissoring you so much as if he prepared you for war. You wrapped you wrapped your arm around his neck, resting your head over his shoulder as you let out a quiet whines. You don’t even know if this room was able to muffled you voice.

You felt your orgasm was close. Your hands clutched over his backed clothes, your cock already spitting precums but Satoru pulled his fingers away with a grin, while a disappointed whine escaped your lips. You were about to protest—really, however it never happened when you felt something already rubbing your hole. You looked down as your eyes turned from weariness to horror.

How big was that!? 9 inches!? It’s also thick… who the fucks need a penis that big!?

“It’s big isn’t it?” Satoru rested his head on your chest, with a grin that you’d gladly slap him. For now, you couldn’t. “Hit my back five times if necessary.”

You felt his cock entered your hole—fuck, he haven’t even moved a single inch but you already felt your own dick twitching. Honestly, you can lie that it felt weird that you were about to get fucked by your own childhood best friend, and you also can’t lie that it also excites you. Satoru’s hand tightened around your hips, letting you adjust abit before thrusted his cock. A moan escaped your lips as you met with your climax. Your cum stained your shirt, it felt humiliating thought no one was watching.

Even so, Satoru smiled, he rested his head over your shoulder—taking your right hand and intertwining them with his—his pace was unforgiving. Your arms tightened around Satoru’s neck, your hands clawing his still cloth back. And your moans spilling out, you tried to remind yourself—mentally scolding yourself that there’s a chance people could hear you, now, it’s too late to think about it. You just kept on moaning like an animal in heat.

“[Name]…?” Satoru placed a kiss over your shoulder, making your dick twitched. “I’m close… can I fill you? Pretty please?”

“Fuck, damnit fine—fine! I’m—I’m coming!”

Soon enough—you were met with another orgasm, a loud moan escaped your lips. Begging no one would hear you, Satoru continued his unforgiving pace—your toes curled, you’re still sensitive after all. Satoru then paint your asshole white, it felt so warm—too warm for cum. A disappointed whine escaped from your lips when he pulled his cock out, your hole was dripping. With Satoru’s cum. You looked up, meeting with the blue eyes from your childhood. Seemingly dark with something—you swore you see hearts as his pupils.

“So? How was it?” Satoru’s eyes were back to normal when he spoke.

You sighed at his words. “It’s my first time, and you just went out and—”

“You’re a virgin!?”

“…Yeah?”

Satoru smirked, you saw those similar pupils resurface—he held both of your wrist and put them on top of your head as you felt his tip rubbing your rim. “You’re so innocent… I promise I’ll be gentle this time.”

Every part of your body was sore as you come out from that room you’ve had multiple rounds with Satoru. He was beside you, holding you so tightly, almost as if you’d go by a blink.

Not with this jelly legs—!!

Just right the moment the two were out, Yaga Masamichi. Was patrolling around the halls and saw you, giving a wave.

“[L.Name]!, it’s rare to see you coming home late.” He came up to you, giving Satoru a nod.

“Wait, what time is it?” Your voice coming out raspy. You swore you’d beat the living shit out of this dumbass so called “strongest”

“It’s currently… ah, 6:45 P.M.” Masamichi said casually. Your eyes widened, Satoru in the other hand, held back a chuckle.

“I— 6:45!?” Your voice was practically echoing around the halls. Satoru smirked, guiding you to go out from the school. Not even giving Masamichi a glance. His eyes were just on you. Before he carried you—your body in his arms while your hands on his chest.

“Rest.” Satoru told you, you should of just refuse. But you nodded, you make yourself comfortable as sleep slowly taking over you when your head was on his chest so prefectly.

“Mine.”