#no but her battery life is horrible

[lyzaxoxo]

me omw to take batteries from the drawer for the second time this month for my “remote”

[starstruckgrrl]

MORE TAMAKI🙏🙏🙏

who am i to deny you 🫡

ꕤ*. synopsis: tamaki doesn’t do so well at hero events, but he’s grounded with you there. not to mention you give him the perfect motivation!

↳ ♡₊˚.warnings: smut, car sex, he says “i love you”, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, sub!tamaki, pet names, established relationship, lil bit of edging, cute tamaki naps for aftercare :3

a/n: sorry if the way i capitalize some stuff has changed, i want to make it easier to read!! i really hope you like it, give me some feedback or suggestions pls!!

ever since he’s met you, tamaki has been doing a lot better at handling any event that comes his way. his friends take notice, praising him for sticking around “this long!”

he owes his success to you, who he will often scamper off to. you’re always with him at every event, keeping him grounded and confident(ish).

usually, he’ll take you everywhere with him, making you become his bodyguard against awkward conversations or slightly passive aggressive behavior. however, you know that it is good for him to do some things on his own so he won’t feel so horrible when you’re busy and can’t escort him everywhere.

so the pro-hero Suneater is here, after several minutes of you gently pushing him, at a table with Deku, Dynamight, Lemillion, Red Riot, Nejire Chan, and a few other names from high school. while he does feel much better that nejire and mirio are there with him, the potential comfort he might have had is ruined when everyone delves into questions about his personal life.

tamaki mentally curses mirio, who asks first, “Suneater! i haven’t met that girl you’ve been parading around yet? when will i get to meet her?”

“her name is ——, and you can meet her soon, i guess? she said she would follow me over soon.” tamaki replied.

“she’s very nice, Lemillion! i met her once while getting a drink at an event a week or so ago, and she was nothing but kind!” Deku shot out, happy to have met a nice person.

nejire never passes up an opportunity to talk about something happy, so she began her rambling, “she’s so preeeetty! can you ask her about what products she uses in her hair? does she have extensions? does she wear wigs? if so, where does she get such natural ones?”

the indigo-haired hero you cherished began to sink in his seat, visibly overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions that had begun after the mention of his date, but felt better when he felt your hand pat him on the shoulder.

“hi, baby. are you doing okay?” you asked, loud enough for people sitting near him to hear, but to him nonetheless.

he began to sit up in his seat, the pet name being comforting enough to help him regain some composure, “yes, i’m okay, how are you?”

you gave him a small smile as you sat in your spot next to him, confirming that you were feeling alright.

mirio was the first to speak to you, “are you ——?! i’ve heard so much about you!! well, pieces about you, tamaki is kind of private about your relationship, but pieces nonetheless!!”

“yes, that’s me! it’s lovely to meet tamaki’s best friend!” you replied, recognizing tamaki’s description of his grade-school friend.

“AWWW, Suneater, you’ve told her about me!” mirio shouted.

tamaki smiled up at him, how could he ever think that he wouldn’t tell everyone about the person who motivated him so much?

~

as the evening went on, you had been asked plenty of questions, mainly by nejire. you had no complaints, as you found everyone thoroughly entertaining and sweet.

the whole time, you were keeping physical contact, even in small ways, with tamaki. it was the best way to make sure he knew you were still there for him and thinking about him, even as you conversed with the others.

over time, your small touches turned into something else. clasping his hand turned into rubbing his thigh, slight pokes turned into tracing soft circles on his bicep. the little things meant the world to this man, so you knew he was getting your idea.

about 3 hours in, tamaki’s social battery had been completely sucked dry. he gave you a special look and squeezed your hand twice to let you know he wanted to go, a signal the both of you had come up with.

you cleaned up your area at the table, stacking your used dishes neatly for a waiter/waitress to pick up with ease, and stood up. you patted yourself down as your lover stood up, and you all exchanged goodbyes as the both of you walked out, your arm wrapped around his.

the both of you walked out to the car, and tamaki slid his hand down to your waist and pulled you closer. you were stunned, he rarely initiates things, especially in public.

“tama” you cooed in his ear.

tamaki led you to the backseat of the car, opened the door for you, and sat next to you. he kept the door slightly ajar for what he would call “ventilation” when you questioned him later.

you kissed him first, a small but sweet kiss. your partner, however, kissed you again. longer, deeper. he grabbed you and held you close to him, and he leaned against the back of the seat. he began to unzip his pants when you stopped him.

“are you sure, baby?” you asked, knowing his fear of having all eyes on him.

“yes, i love you too much, please.” he replied, asking you to please continue.

you nodded at him, and got on top of him. you gave him kisses on his neck and bit him softly as you pulled down his pants to let his cock spring out.

you flipped up the dress he bought you special for this event, and moved your underwear to the side. tamaki brought his hand down to rub small circles on your clit, getting you wet for him.

you softly pushed his hand away, then brought yourself up, then down onto his dick. he let out a small whimper and you shushed him, “shh, baby, we don’t want anyone to see, do we?”

tamaki swallowed thickly, and stuttered out, “n-no”

“maybe you’d like that, dirty boy.” you teased, and he whined in response.

you bounced up and down softly on him, the friction of the base of his cock teasing your clit.

then, suddenly, you heard voices outside, a mere 10-15 ft away.

“oh, hey, someone’s car door is open. should we close it?” said one of the voices.

tamaki’s eyes widened, but he never stopped bucking up into you, and you never stopped riding him. he whimpered quietly, and you put your thumb in his mouth to silence him.

“nah, let’s just leave it. someone might be coming back to it in just a minute.” said another voice.

the both of you heard their footsteps trail away, and you looked at each other. tamaki leaned up to kiss you, and you could tell he was getting close. he was rutting into you from below, and it made you giggle.

“don’t cum until i say, tama!” you reprimanded.

he nodded quickly, confirming his submission.

you were also getting close, and tamaki always knew that you should cum first. you slammed down onto him harder, making his tip kiss your cervix every time. his cock was rubbing against a sweet spot inside you the deeper you went, and you came with a moan of his name.

as you were going through the aftershocks of your orgasm, tamaki began to beg.

“please, can i cum? please.” he whimpered out, his legs shaking slightly.

you kissed his forehead and gave him permission, and his cock twitched as he finally let go of the orgasm he had been holding. his cum warmed your insides and gave you an extra, satisfying feeling as it began to leak down.

“i’ll drive us back home, sweetheart, you rest. i know you’re tired” you told him as you slowly got up, grabbing a blanket that rested in the back pocket of the car seat, special for any sleepy car rides.

you laid tamaki down in the backseat and covered him in the fluffy blanket. you adjusted his pants and his underwear to make him as comfortable as possible.

you got out, adjusted your dress, and closed the car door. you got into the front seat and turned the car on and the heating up so your partner would be cozy on the ride home.

~

[meazalykov]

wrong number

bayern munich frauen x reader

1/6, 2/6, 3/6, 4/6, 5/6, 6/6

"who are you, and why do you have my number?"

you've been preparing for this move for what feels like forever.

the idea of leaving your small hometown in virginia to live in munich is both exciting and terrifying. you’ve spent weeks packing your things, saying goodbyes, and trying to mentally prepare yourself for the massive change that’s about to happen. 

sure, you’ve dreamed about studying abroad for a long time. now that it’s here, the reality of it feels overwhelming.

you’re going to be thousands of miles away from home, from everything you’ve ever known. your family is supportive, and your friends have been hyping you up nonstop. yasmeen, your closest friend, has been particularly great about helping you stay grounded, always there to distract you from the “what ifs” when the anxiety gets a little too intense. 

today is one of those days.

the two of you had planned a mall trip—something normal and fun before the whirlwind of final packing and travel arrangements takes over. well, yasmeen says that you need a new closet for munich and you don’t disagree.

it feels good to be doing something so ordinary, especially when you know that soon enough, everything in your life is about to be not-so-ordinary. 

you’ve been to this mall a hundred times with yasmeen, today feels a little more special though. maybe it’s because you’re hyperaware that you won’t have moments like these once you’re in germany.

will you make friends in germany? what if germany turns out horribly? are the people nice? is there xenophobia you might experience due to yourself being american? these thoughts plagued the back of your mind. 

"you’re gonna miss me so much, you know that, right?" yasmeen teases as the two of you walk through the mall’s food court, eyeing the chick-fil-a counter but opting for chipotle instead.

you roll your eyes playfully, nudging her with your elbow with the arm that's carrying your aritzia bag. 

"i’ll miss your constant harassment, that’s for sure."

"constant harassment? i’m literally the best thing that ever happened to you!"

"okay, sure," you laugh. 

honestly, yasmeen has been a huge part of your life for the past few years. she was the first person you clicked with back in high school, and now it feels weird to think about going through the next few years without her by your side. 

you’re trying not to dwell on it, though. you’ll still have facetime, you tell yourself. 

after grabbing and eating your rice bowls, you both head toward the stores. it’s one of those days where everything feels easy—there’s no pressure to buy anything. you did though obviously.

at one point, yasmeen holds up a bright red kit with a smirk.

"ouu a bayern munich kittt. you should totally buy it, you will fit in with the munich community."

you tilt your head, laughing. 

"what is that? i don’t even watch soccer."

"woah! you better once you hit germany– i heard soccer to them is like how the nfl is to americans."

you shake your head but decide to try it on anyway. yasmeen snaps a photo and tells you that you look like you’re about to cheer for some random german soccer team. 

you don’t think much of it and put the jersey back, moving on to the next store.

as the day goes on, you feel a strange mix of contentment and anticipation. it’s nice being here, with your best friend, doing normal things, but there’s a part of you that’s itching to start this next chapter of your life. 

it’s like you’re stuck in this weird limbo between your old life and the new one that’s waiting for you on the other side of the world.

eventually, after several hours of shopping, you realize your phone had died. you don’t even remember when it happened. 

you’ve been so caught up in the moment with yasmeen that you didn’t notice the battery draining.

"ugh, my phone’s dead," you say, glancing at the blank screen.

yasmeen shrugs. 

"mine’s still good. if anything, i can call you an uber."

"nah, i’m good. i’ll just charge it when i get home."

you both grab shoes at birkenstock before say your goodbyes outside the mall. yasmeen gives you an extra tight hug. 

"don’t get caught up with your european friends and forgetting about me, okay?"

"never," you promise.

when you get home, you immediately plug your phone into the charger and head straight to the shower. 

the hot water feels good against your skin, washing away the stress of the day. you’ve got so much on your mind—packing, travel plans, what your life is going to look like in a few weeks—but right now, standing under the stream of water, you feel calm. 

you let your thoughts drift away and focus on the simple rhythm of the water hitting your shoulders.

when you finally get out of the shower, you feel refreshed, like maybe you can tackle all the things on your to-do list without getting overwhelmed.

when you grab your phone and take it off of your charger, you notice something strange. 

it’s blowing up with notifications. you squint at the screen, trying to make sense of what’s happening. 

there’s a new group chat, and it’s filled with numbers you don’t recognize.

confused, you open the messages. the chat is already deep into a conversation about something, but none of it makes sense to you.

+49 176 1234567: pernille you’re AMAZING wtf was that!!!!????? 

+49 171 7654321: arsenals defense during this match had nothing on you or syd holy shit

your brows furrow. arsenal? match? what are they talking about? you know absolutely nothing about this conversation. 

hell, you’re not even sure what country arsenal plays for. the confusion only grows as you scroll up to see more of the conversation.

you: hi?

almost immediately, your message is met with a flood of responses.

+49 171 7654321: giulia! finally! where have you been?

+49 178 1233567: we’ve been trying to reach all day, i know we had no training but are you okay?

your heart skips a beat. giulia? who the hell is giulia? you’ve definitely never gone by that name.

you: uh, i think you’ve got the wrong number. i’m not giulia.

for a moment, the chat goes silent. you stare at your phone, wondering if you should just leave the group.

before you can, a new message pops up.

+49 176 1234567: wait, what?

+49 171 7654321: did we add the wrong number again?

+49 171 11122222: sydney, you’re an idiot. you added the wrong number!

there’s a pause before a new number is added to the group.

+49 152 3334444: you guys finally added me.

you assume this is the real giulia. still, no one seems to be kicking you out of the chat, and before you know it, the conversation picks up again.

+49 176 1234567: giulia, you missed our whole debate about the arsenal match.

+49 171 7654321: yeah, and we were saying bayern needs to keep it up for juventus.

you stare at your phone, more confused than ever. arsenal, bayern… these are clearly soccer teams, but why are they talking to you? you don’t even watch soccer. eventually, you decide to chime in.

you: um?? i have no idea what any of you are talking about. 

this time, the chat explodes with messages.

+49 171 7654321: what?!

+49 176 1234567: how do you not know bayern munich?

+49 175 7778888: do you watch fusball? 

+49 171 1112222: okay, who are you?

+44 177 9900000: ok guys that makes me feel better about this not being a crazy fan.

+49 170 4479173: i agree with georgia 

you explain your situation—that you’re a 21-year-old college student from virginia, and you somehow got added to this group chat by mistake. 

you tell them about your upcoming move to munich for your study abroad program, hoping to clear up the confusion.

+49 152 3334444: wait… you’re moving to munich? like… munich, germany?

+49 171 7654321: that’s insane omg we all live in munich.

+44 171 9900000: wtffff 

+49 176 1234567: this is such a weird coincidence.

you blink at your screen. this is getting stranger by the second. what are the odds that you’d get added to a random group chat full of people who live in the exact city you’re about to move to?

+49 171 1112222: okay, but how do we know you’re not some creepy dude pretending to be a girl?

+49 172 4567389: LMAO LENA 

+57 170 9193831: wait… 

you roll your eyes at the suspicion but understand why they might be cautious. so, you send them your instagram handle to prove you’re real. 

you: ew, i am not some old dude. @ y/n.l/n is my insta, just me out for yourselves.

after a few minutes, messages start pouring in again.

+49 152 3334444: yep, she’s legit.

+49 176 1234567: okay, cool. she seems sweet.

+49 171 9718193: guys laura would love her photography skills

you: who’s laura

+49 171 9900000: someone from the german national team. she plays in frankfurt

+44 177 9900000: this is so cool idky why.. usually i’d be freaked out

a few new followers pop up on your instagram notifications, and you open the app to check. you almost drop your phone when you see that some of the accounts following you are verified. 

*sydneylohmann is now following you*

and another 

*georgiastanway is now following you* 

*tuvahansen is now following you* 

and more.. 

*leaschuller is now following you* 

*lenaoberdorf is now following you* 

*kathi.ng is now following you* 

*pharder10 is now following you*

*guzman013_ is now following you* 

*sarahzadrazil25 is now following you* 

now it seems like the whole team is catching on.. 

*buehlklara is now following you* 

*magdalenaeriksson26 is now following you* 

*magou_doucoure is now following you* 

*dahmannlinda is now following you* 

it's until you do a quick google search that you realize who they are.

they’re professional soccer players.

you sit there, staring at your phone, completely in shock. you’ve somehow stumbled into a group chat full of actual women’s soccer players. 

trying to play it cool, you decide to treat them like normal people.

after all, you don’t even know anything about soccer, so it’s not like you’re going to fan out over them.

you: so, what are your names? i want to save your numbers because all of the unsaved numbers are overwhelming haha 

they go around introducing themselves, and you quickly type their names into your phone, saving each number under the name they give you.

+49 152 3334444: i’m giulia

+49 171 7654321: sydney

+44 177 9900000: georgia s 

+49 179 7777777: lea 

+57 170 9193831: ana g. there’s two ana’s so i’d add the last name letter to tell the difference 💜

it’s surreal, somehow you find yourself chatting with them like they’re any other group of girls you’d meet in a random group chat. 

they even start to warm up to you after a few days, especially after you tell them more about your move to munich. 

a few of them offer to show you around the city once you get there.

georgia: honestly, munich’s great. you’re going to love it.

sydney: we can help you find all the best spots.

lena: i can definitely ☺️

lea: lena you just moved here from wolfsburg.. 

lena: lea shushhhh 🙄

pernille: ??? 

you smile at your phone, feeling a little less nervous about the move. it’s strange, but you’re actually starting to look forward to meeting these girls in person. 

sure, they’re professional soccer players, but they’re also just… normal people. and they seem to like you.

as the chat continues, you get the sense that they trust you. maybe it’s because of your instagram or the way you’ve been honest with them from the start, but whatever it is, they don’t seem to mind that you accidentally got added to their group. 

in fact, they seem to enjoy having you around.

klara: you seem chill. i know its been a week since you’ve been added but do you promise to keep our secrets safe? 

lena: ^

you: i promise. i like you guys! 

it’s not every day you accidentally make friends with a group of famous athletes, but somehow, that’s exactly what’s happened. 

as strange as it is, you’re kind of excited about it.

part two here

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I’m absolutely obsessed with your writing! I was hoping I could request a one-shot where Daryl and fem!reader are married. They are working on separate outdoor projects but Daryl can’t stop watching the reader throughout the day. The dirtiest thoughts cross his mind as he watches her. Later that evening when they are home and finally alone he recreates all those thoughts with her throughout the night. Daryl has a pleasure and praise kink, includes oral, Daryl loves going down on the reader!

*Set during later Alexandria or Commonweath era (Daryl never goes to France!)

STOP IT RIGHT TF NOW ANON CAUSE WHY HAVENT I THOUGHT OF A PLEASURE KINK. DROOLING RN

Heres me admitting im only on season 9 of TWD so this takes place in Alexandria 😿

A/n: Thought I’d actually title this bc reading it again months later I just think it needs one 🥸

gif creds @daryl-dixon-daydreams

BUSY BEE

Daryl was going to simply pass away and die.

He hated his own mind for it’s never-ending thoughts, even more so when he had a literal job to be doing. His racing thoughts had been distracting him the whole day, occasionally using the wrong tool, knocking something over, and even almost spilling all the oil at one point.

It was just the way your hips looked, so well rounded in those jeans, shirt clinging to your body as you walked quickly with your own tasks in mind, not noticing your husband’s hardcore staring.

His mind was bursting with thoughts of what horribly dirty things he wanted to do to you. Sometimes he physically can’t wrap his head around how he ended up with someone like you. All Daryl could think about was just how bad he wanted to fuck you, cock already stirring to life in his pants.

No. No. He had to stay focused. He couldn’t be seen not doing his task and also now needed to hide the tent forming in his pants. It was worse that he was out in the open, having been assigned to work on the cars to keep them running longer.

You had been assigned to ask around to see what was needed for the next run, only for some reason you had timed yourself to get to everyone in under an hour, hence your quick pace and focused gaze. Daryl had seen you walk past at least three times, each time you sped past while furiously scribbling on a notepad. He felt like a teenager watching and obsessing over his crush.

God, he was so ready to blow himself up, staring down at under the hood of one of the cars used for runs. He forced his mind to focus on fixing shit instead of wandering off. Rick had been saying that the brakes had been failing, only Daryl couldn’t exactly do much without a jackstand.

He decided to test the car battery instead since it had been having trouble starting. Stepping around the car to the toolbox, he almost tripped as you bumped right into him. “Bulky bitch!” You yelped as you fell down onto your ass, dropping your pen and paper. Daryl gently but quickly pulled you to your feet, picking your stuff up. “Tha’ hell ya runnin’ from girl?” He stepped closer to you, sliding a hand to your waist. “I’m a very busy woman with places to be and times to beat” You rolled your eyes, yet smiled softly at Daryl. “Too busy fer me now?” You nodded, leaning up as if to kiss him but going for his ear instead. “Very busy” You whispered sweetly, placing a faint kiss on his cheek before speeding away again.

Daryl simply stood there with his cock straining harshly against the fabric of his pants, cock pulsating as he could feel himself leaking pre-cum. He should just blow his goddamn brains out, now.

He slammed the hood of the car shut and climbed inside, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. It felt like his head was about to fall off with how many filthy thoughts were flooding in. You were the biggest tease and absolutely knew it, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to silence his brain, hands gripping the steering wheel. He wasn’t about to jerk off inside a car with the clearest windows ever, at that point he might as well do it out in the open.

While Daryl was suffering silently, you were simply serene as you rocked on the porch swing of your house, turning in the list to Rick right before your timer hit fifteen minutes. You toyed with the ring on your finger, smiling down as you thought of how Daryl refused to get you something small. He had found a jewelry shop out on a secret run and spent an hour overthinking and questioning himself before finding the perfect ring. It was a sliver band with clusters of smaller diamonds around a larger one that so happened to be the shape of a skull, matching the one he wore every day. He smashed the glass without a second thought.

You smile fondly, also remembering that the same man was probably struggling to do his work. Getting him super worked up was your favorite thing to do as he basically melted in your hands the second he stepped foot inside.

Speaking of inside, you had stepped in earlier to change out your underwear, switching into a black thong you found. You could practically feel Daryl’s hands roaming your body, shivers running down your spine at the tingling sensation.

Whilst you were enjoying yourself, Daryl was still sitting in the car, staring down at the steering wheel as he tried to focus his mind on anything else, aside from the cocky sway of your hips, and the ghost of your lips against his ears.

He needed to get off badly. The only thing really stopping him were these shitty windows, however he proceeded to begin rubbing his hand on his clothed cock, letting out a shaky moan. Daryl slammed his hands back onto the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as he tried to recenter himself. He thought for a moment, sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

The car door swung open and he kicked it shut behind him, walking quickly to avoid anyone who might wanna talk, quickly making his way back home. He passed Carol, who was sitting out on her swing. She waved and he gave a short wave back, trying his hardest to keep his hard-on concealed as he sped past.

He stepped heavily up the stairs, the wooden porch creaking under his weight as he opened and shut the front door. It was remotely quiet as he kicked his shoes off next to yours, tearing his shirt off as he stomped upstairs to your shared bedroom, where he found you in one of his shirts lying on your stomach reading a book, closing it at the sound of your husband's arrival. “Already stripping nude for me, Dixon?” You pushed yourself onto your knees and he approached the bed, grabbing your face rougher than intended and crashing his lips onto yours.

It seemed like in that moment, Daryl’s hyperactive mind finally shut itself down, his shoulders relaxing as his hands held your soft face, licking into your mouth desperately. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers splayed out on his upper back as he moved to join you on the bed, readjusting you so your legs rested comfortably on either side of his hips. There was a burning desire in his gut as he sucked harshly on your skin, grinding against you as he did.

Daryl’s hands stayed locked at your hips, massaging and groping the flesh as he continued marking up your whole body, practically eating you. He reached your boobs and ran his tongue over the right one and started to suck deep marks into the sensitive flesh.

His hips picked up speed, becoming erratic before burying his face in space between your boobs, shaking as he literally came in his pants. It was the hottest thing you’d seen. “Feeling better?” You whispered breathlessly, watching him groan and lift himself sluggishly off your chest. “M’not done yet” His words were slightly slurred as he leaned back on his knees, hands fumbling to undo his pants.

You eventually reached down to unzip his zipper, and he was back on you instantly, shoving his boxers down enough to free his hard and dripping cock, precum pouring from the puffy tip. “God, Daryl, you’re so needy tonight” You moaned as he pulled down your pajama shorts, eyes staring down at the black thong. “Yes tha’ hell I am” He whispered, hands sliding up your sides and he slid down, cock pulsing as he got a look at your cunt even with the thong on. There was just so much he wanted to do to you that it was overwhelming his senses.

He ran his tongue up and in between your folds, tasting you through the measly garment. He rubbed circles in your clit as his tongue explored every inch, slipping past the thong and into your entrance, causing your brain to short-circuit as he worked you to release, especially since his own was drying in his underwear. Alongside his tongue, Daryl eased two fingers in, stretching and scissoring you open, his tongue going in much deeper and curling. “Fuck yes, baby just like that” You bit your bottom lip harshly, sliding your own fingers down to stimulate your clit, knowing how to push yourself off the edge quicker. He got so fucking hard at the sight of you playing with yourself, even more so that it was your ring finger, the diamond skull standing out as your fingers sped up. Daryl pulled his tongue out, continuing to move his fingers as he licked your clit, a strangled sob coming from you as you came.

Daryl settled for unleashing another attack on your torso while you recovered from your orgasm, licking, kissing, sucking, and biting at the smooth flesh of your stomach, one hand holding your thigh over his shoulder, and the other resting right by your boob, his thumb teasingly stroking the skin under it. He felt every curse, moan and gasp you let out, licking right in between your already marked boobs, kissing the junction of your throat all the way up to your lips. The head of his cock nudged your pussy slightly, and the heat of the kiss had you dizzy. “C’mon handsome, I can’t wait much longer” You batted your lashes at him, running your hand down his one of his big arms, your ring shimmering in the dim lamp light.

Your other hand slid in between your bodies to shift your soaked thong to the side, pulling him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. He used one hand to steady his cock, and gripped the headboard as he slammed in, two of you moaning in unison. Daryl’s cock was more sensitive than ever, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he readjusted himself, pounding roughly into you as you gripped his bicep.

Daryl’s thrusts were relentless as he kept his pace up, bed creaking and headboard slamming as he panted like a dog, watching the way his cock was sliding in and out of you, a giant wet spot forming on his jeans as he showed no signs of stopping. “My big strong man, always fucking me so good with your fat cock” You bit down on your lips as one of your hands came to rest on his cheek. He turned his face to the side, kissing your palm while staring into your eyes with a lovingly lustful gaze. “M’all yers, m’gon always give my woman wha’ she wants” His voice was raspy and breathless against your hand before he locked your fingers together, pinning your hands onto the mattress and dipping his head down to press his forehead against yours, simply panting into each others spaces.

From how tightly you were holding hands, your rings dug into one another’s fingers, and it only turned Daryl on more. You were his and he was yours. “M’so proud ta call ya Mrs. Dixon. Gon fill ya up w all my kids” He whispered, bumping his strangely cold button nose against yours. “Let’s just start with one?” Your voice sounded foreign to your ears, and by the way Daryl’s hips had sped up you could tell he was close “Not one now!” You shrieked, nails digging into his hands as he railed your sweet spot, orgasm already hitting him incredibly hard as he practically laughed in your ear from how hard he came, pulling out just a little too late.

He fell on top of you, but recoiled when something wet touched his navel, eyes flickering down to see his cum soaking into the black fabric of your thong and seeping out your hole. “Gonna clean that up for me?” You winked suggestively at him, and he lowered himself to be eye level with your messy cunt, massive hands spreading you further apart as he licked his lips. “Yes ma’am”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I made myself very horny writing this but I also kept falling asleep as I was writing

also I based both rings off Normans ring :3 (he should put his finger in my body)

[goldsbitch]

Right? p3

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

part 1, part 2

"Y/n!"

You slowly turned. The plan was to leave with the rest of the team, not staying behind with Lando - alone.

"I just have few ideas for the next phoshoot, if you'd like to talk about it," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Professional. "Of course!" And with that, the last person left the room and closed the door.

The media meeting room was one of the few rooms without glass doors or windows. The only light present was from the projecting screen, still showing a big photo of Lando fucking Norris.

He was leaning on the table, light reflecting in his face while he was observing the picture.

"Narcissist much?" you teased and also leaned next to him. It's like his body was sending magnetic signals to yours.

"Always. " He paused for a moment. "If I recall correctly, these were all shot in the forest." You chose not to react. He gave you a questioning look. "Where is the rest?"

You should have expected this. Wishful thinking was not working in your favor. Or was it?

"I'm missing the car pictures, the ones where you stood above me and perhaps even those where you sat on me. Am I right?"

You turned and looked him straight to the eye. If tension was a fog in the room, you'd be able to see at arms-lenght only.

"I guess the battery gave out sooner than I noticed," you replied nonchalantly.

Lando stepped into the projector light. "Yes, that must be it...Or, there is a reason why you don't want to show them."

He was standing way too close. You had no defense for his charm. The damn scent again. The only thing you had on mind was burying your face in his neck and leaving your own mark on him. Would he be the one to moan? How would that sound?

"You know, I also like to take photos."

"Is that so?"

He was facing you directly. With a noticable hasitation, he put his finger on your chin, tracing the lines of your jaw. He ended up with him finger and his eyes on your lips.

"I would love to be on the other side of the lens. Take photo of you for once."

We are sorry to inform you, that all traces of professionality have left the room.

He slowly traced your lips with his finger and while remaining direct eye contact, you opened your mouth and licked it. It was slow, with a little pause and then suddenly the mouth that kissed yours, like he had once in real life and several times in your dreams. .

Almost as if he had read your mind, he proceeded to kiss your neck, softly not to leave a mark, but enough for him to find out you in fact do moan. His hand, wrapped around your hips, squeezed you as a direct response to the soft sounds coming out of your mouth.

"Lando," you whispered.

"Yes, baby?" his voice was shivering as well. This should not make you proud. You should stop now, anyone could walk in. You managed to break out of your paralysis, even if it was the last thing you wanted to do.

"Lando, stop."

He stopped kissing you promptly. Your foreheads pressed together.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. You almost laughed. The only thing he should feel sorry for was the fact his mouth was not exploring your body anymore.

With heavy heart, you pulled away. This was probably a silly game for him, one with potentially horrible consequences.

"I can't risk my job like this."

He nodded. "I understand. I guess. I mean, I think the times are changing a bit."

"Like having an affair with essentially your boss is not bad anymore?"

"I'm not your boss."

Oh maybe he should be.

"You know what I mean. For me it's not just a job."

He took a moment to think. "That's probably the hottest thing about you. The passion. I can understand that."

Your stomach spun. Lando called you hot?

"It's impossible for me to keep passing you around as if it's nothing. Been too long." You remained calm, knowing well enough you'll have many night to think about this sentence.

"Do you say this to all the female staff?" you joked, but tiny part of you had a legitimate worry. You were not going to be one of many, too proud for that.

"I'd have to quit if there were even only two like you, one is enough to handle."

This time you approached him and kissed him first. A little bit slower than you kissed before. It was quick, as you heard some steps on the hallway.

"Let's go on a date. Privately. So we can think clearly," he insisted.

"I don't think other people are the reason why I'm not thinking clearly."

"Come on, say yes."

"Yes, let's."

Lando stepped away, becoming more of his work self again. You went to turn on the lights again. "We can either go and take photos of you for this time, or you can show me the ones you hid from others."

The door opened and you were relieved it didn't happened a minute ago.

"Yes, let's do another photoshoot," you smirked at Lando.

part 4

______________________________________________________________

@i-wish-this-was-me

[bodegadulac]

So, people liked my review of phase 1 of the WCU, so let's review phase 2:

This movie is baffling to me. You bring the CUI, set up Shen yu as the main fucking villain...

AND THEN THE MAIN VILLAIN IS FUCKING VICTOR?!?!?!?!?

What the fuck man.

But at the same one you have Colin becoming Defiant, showing character developement.

But also fuck you, Gwinneth Paltrow was a vague interpretation of fucking Ash Phoenix.

The dragon's teeth are fucking awesome.

But most of the movie is Dragon who crashed bonding with a little girl.

??????

I like that Dragon finally gets a gynoid body, it shows that she is now sure that she is human, even if she is a machine.

But thats the thing with this fucking movie. There are a lot of great fucking ideas weighted down by horrible studio decisions.

Also the new dragon suit is fuckinv over-designed lol.

6/10

I fucking love this movie.

I love Hannah's arc trying to find Mel, and how she discovers she has become murder rat.

I love the plot of Gesselchaft infiltrating the PRT.

This really sold me on Scarlet Johanson as Piggot tbh. Even if i'm iffy on her ship-bait with Hannah.

I liked how Miss Millitia recruits Vista from the Brockton Wards. I think they are great foils of each other.

Just, overall a great movie with great coreography.

But really? Nobody suspected Juntin Nazheer was just a nazi?

9/10

Underrated and Overhated in my opinion.

Yeah, it's kind of a mess with too many plotpoints. Like Jack is there and that goes nowhere, Theo has to balance his new membership to the chicago wards, dealing with his dad and the folk.

Topsy was a forgetable villain but i have high hopes for mockshow.

I liked raymancer, tecton and annex. Hope we see more of them.

Natalie portman as cuff was... a choice.

6/10

Give it a chance man.

Just give James Gunn a group of unknowns and he will give you gold.

What a good fun fucking movie, man.

The crew has such a good dynamic.

I like the implications of a larger thing with the C tattoos.

The whole asylum breakout sequence was very entretaining.

This movie was really really fun. But with a heart. And thats the best a movie can be.

I heard most people tought that Gavel was a forgetable villain (or anti hero) and that him joining forces with Burnscar made no sense. It doesn't make sense but it gives us some great sequences.

I loved the silly cameos of some of the weirder Wildbow characters like the Snail, Chubster and Trainwreck.

ALSO THE MUSIC! I boight the soundtrack as soon as it came out.

Please watch it. It's very fun.

10/10

It starts strong with the raid to the heartbroken, also helps set up Regent and Cherish. Damn those twins are creepy.

I really liked the earlier slice of life esque scenes in the rig.

The whole scene of the three blasphemies emerging and taking over the dragon's teeth to make a machine army was very very well animated.

Why is Colin Armsmaster again? I feel like we get robbed of his character developement... but the Lungbuster armor fucks so much.

Also, Flechette has a secret girlfriend she told nobody about. Lol. But i really like her new purple costume :}

I wonder what all the visions of the future mean. Will the slaughterhouse 9 kill everybody? I mean they have been teasing the shit out of them for years now.

Also we need to talk about how the studio bounces Piggot as a love interest for any other team member, like it feels so out of place man.

The final battle was neat, the fact that they finally reveal Scion as he kills the blasphemy's "BEHEMOTH" was surprising, cool, but it kind of killed al the tension lol.

How can i take anything seriously if thid golden man can appear and end the threat?

Also Regent dies i guess. We hardly knew ya.

Let's see what they will do with Cherish tho.

It's an okay movie.

6/10

And to round this phase up we have a funny heist movie, Assault.

Velocity as an older mentor figure works.

I hope his daughter becomes Battery in the sequel lol.

Assault's crew is funny.

Madcap is a boring villain but the "let's free everyone in the birdcage" was an interesting premise.

Go see it if you have the time.

7/10

[lovekz]

dumb dick!

syn -> taiju’s bike isn’t the only thing you wanna ride of his.

warnings : smut, rough sex, p in v, oral (male receiving), squirting, use of the nickname mama and baby, overstimulation, taiju has a big dick, creampie

-

you stood inside of the fast food restaurant, waiting on you and yuzuha’s order.

the two of you decided you should have a sleepover to catch up with each other, as college work has been keeping you two apart.

however, you don’t think this was a great idea anymore, because nothing was going right.

your car had broke down so you had to take the bus, and you were stranded.

the walk to the shiba’s house would take pretty long and you don’t want the food to get cold.

taking the bus wouldn’t shorten the time either.

not to mention your horrible experiences with ubers and lyft.

so you called yuzuha and asked if she could pick you up.

“sorry babe, I can’t. I gave hakkai my car so he could take it to his friend to get it fixed.” yuzuha frowned, feeling bad.

she had the same problem as you, but hers had broke down only after she got home.

you cursed quietly, contemplating on what you should do.

you could risk it and get a uber (and possibly have to stay on the phone the entire time and drain your phone's battery) or risk your legs and walk.

neither sounded ideal.

“i can pick her up?” you hear a voice in the background catch your attention.

it isn’t a voice you've heard before, and you don't think yuzuha got a boyfriend during the times you haven't spoke.

"that would be amazing, tai. can you please? i'll send you 50 for gas." yuzuha immediately says, opening her phone.

"no it's fine. you don't have to." the alleged 'tai' had responded, before you heard a door close.

yuzuha had a big smile on her face, and you looked at her with a bit of a smug look.

"didn't know you had a boyfriend." you teased, grabbing your orders and sitting at one of the seats.

yuzuha scoffed, rolling her eyes and leaning back into the comfy couch that she bought.

"hell no. that's just my older brother, taiju." yuzuha replies, tucking a hair behind her ear with a hum.

you nod, not knowing your best friend had another brother considering you only see hakkai.

maybe he doesn't live with them or maybe he isn't really their brother at all.

who knows.

after a few minutes, you walk outside and see a guy on a cool ass motorcycle.

you recognize it being the one that's usually in the shiba garage, but no one ever touched it before.

probably because it was his.

the man looks at you approaching him, and you try not to cream in your panties.

he was so fine.

he had this piercing gold gaze with a scowl resting permanently on his lips, hair blowing wildly behind him.

he wore a turtleneck that hugged his muscles perfectly and a pair of dress pants, dior belt holding them up.

not only was he fine, but he had money just like his siblings.

"you must be zu's friend?" the man begins to speak, leaning back to rest on his bike.

his voice came out gruffer than it had sounded over the phone, fitting his intimidating look.

you couldn't bring yourself to speak, offering him a nod as you got closer to get on the bike.

he stops you, getting off and taking the bag of food from you and resting it on the handle.

then, he lifts you up into the air and places you onto the bike properly, making you even more flustered.

he doesn’t say a word to you, just gets on the bike himself and wraps your arms around his waist.

you hold on tightly as he starts up the bike, before driving off.

the wind in your face actually feels amazing, makes you feel like you have a a lot of freedom in the world.

not only that, but you were offered a ride on a really hot guy’s motorcycle with him on it!

you wonder if he’ll get mad if you just…

you begin to let your hands fall a little lower from his waist, waiting for any reaction.

when there was none, you press a delicate hand on his bulge.

you feel his breath hitch just a bit, before he stops at a red light and turns to you.

“playing with your life gorgeous. can't wait till we get home?” taiju teases quietly, giving you a little smirk.

you smile at him, letting him pull your hands back up to where they originally were.

“sorry. just testing the waters.” you joke, getting a bit closer to him.

you feel him chuckle from his back as he looks back at the street when the light turns green.

you hope he stays so you can ‘test’ more waters on him.

he doesn’t seem to mind.

-

four hours into the movie marathon, yuzuha is knocked out on the long end of the couch.

taiju was upstairs in his own room, probably asleep as well.

the two of you had finished some of your food and had some more to share for hakkai and taiju.

so now it was just you and the movie.

it was growing to be late, but you don’t really feel tired at all.

maybe it’s because you were used to staying up so late to do homework and projects.

so you stayed up until the movie was over, woke yuzuha up to go in the room, and then laid on the air mattress wide awake.

of course this would happen.

you sigh to yourself, before going back downstairs to grab something to drink.

when you get to the kitchen, taiju is sitting on the counter with a mug in his hand.

shirtless, with only a pair of sweats that hang loosely on him.

you catch his attention almost immediately, him give you a little smile in result.

maybe he forgot about what happened earlier.

“hey.” you greet shortly, before grabbing one of the cups and getting some water.

he raises a hand to you, before looking back at his phone.

you lean against the counter yourself, typing away at your phone.

it’s silent for a while, besides the sound of things crashing and booming coming from his phone.

you wouldn’t take him for the type, then again, the shibas are pretty unpredictable.

“how come you’re down here so late?” taiju questions, not looking away from his phone.

you look up from yours, before taking another sip from your glass.

“can't sleep. you?” you reply shortly, placing your phone down onto the counter.

he does the same, wanting to engage in a conversation with you.

“same as you, really haven’t slept here in a while.” taiju explains, nodding his head.

you nod along with him. so he did use to live here, but he doesn’t anymore.

probably just visiting.

it grows silent once more, and you finish your water quickly.

it’s thirty minutes before two, and you don’t feel like staring up at the ceiling in yuzuha’s room.

taiju must’ve caught onto that, and he hops of the counter and moves in front of you.

“if you’d like, you can come keep me company in my room.” taiju whispers in your ear, before making his way upstairs.

you’re flustered now, and he probably knows it.

but you won’t let him get away that easily.

-

when you make it into taiju's room, you notice how well done it is although a bit childish.

he has drawings of what are supposed to be sharks with hakkai and yuzuha's name scribbled on it.

the year at the bottom left had read about 10-13 years back.

his bed sheets were perfectly a deep blue with fluffy dark grey covers over the bed with a clean smell.

they must be fresh out of the dryer they had in their laundry room.

he had a comfortable little couch there too, it was where he was sitting right now.

also where you were kneeling in front of him, between his big beefy legs that could suffocate you if he wanted.

as of right now, you were trying to fit half of his cock into your mouth with a whine.

"you want it baby? gotta get it wet first." taiju encouraged, bucking his hips into your warm throat.

you gag around him just a bit, holding the base of his cock with both hands as you look up at him.

he's looking back at you with a shit eating grin, knowing you can't take more than the four inches you have down your throat.

taiju was a pretty big man, you should've expected him to have a big dick as well.

after a bit more of you struggling, taiju lifts you off of him and brings you closer to his face.

"breathe mama, s'okay. you'll have more practice." taiju whispered, cupping you through your panties.

just from sucking him (and playing with yourself in the first half), you were more than ready to try and take him a different way.

he sits you in his lap and lifts his hips up to shuffle the rest of his pants off, before pulling your panties off.

"want you t'ride me. that okay with you?" taiju whispers, kissing your jawline softly.

even if you didn't want to before, you were so gonna do it after he asked.

taiju doesn’t let you respond though, just lifts you up and lines himself up with your sopping hole.

you hold yourself up on your knees and keep steady with the help of his broad shoulders.

he teases your clit softly, making you roll your hips with a hitched breath.

eventually, he’s stops playing and sits you down onto his tip.

a hiss leaves your mouth immediately, the stretch being something completely foreign.

you weren’t a virgin, but you’ve never been with anyone much bigger than you.

let alone raw.

taiju rests against the couch a bit more, holding your waist to keep you still on top of him.

he’s watching as you sink yourself onto his hard cock, shaking ever so slightly and taking deep breaths.

taiju bores his eyes into your closed ones, feeling you rest your hands on his chest.

eventually, you sit down completely and open your eyes to stare back into taiju’s gold ones.

“you okay?” taiju teases quietly, rubbing your hip in slow reassuring circles.

you nod quickly, letting out a quiet sigh and leaning closer to him.

he notices how much you were tightening around him, and presses his thumb against your clit.

“s’okay. just relax for me, gonna make you feel good.” taiju reassures, rubbing in tight circles.

you moan quietly, following the movements of his thumb with your hips despite taiju trying to keep you still.

"mhm.. open up that pretty pussy for me." taiju groans, grinding up into you.

you begin to bounce and grind just a bit, already feeling overwhelmed from the size of him inside of you.

and you barely started moving.

taiju gains your attention by giving your hips a tight squeeze, staring into your eyes.

"you'll tell me if it's too much, okay?" taiju practically demanded, glancing down at where you two were connected.

you nod immediately, picking up the speed a little more.

soon enough, you were nearing your second orgasm, holding his hands and bouncing erratically on his dick while moaning a bit too loud.

taiju wasn't worried though, he knew his sister has slept through many things she probably shouldn't have.

loud claps echoed through the room every time you slammed your hips down onto him.

"m'cumming!" you cried out above him for the second time tonight, squeezing his hands tightly as you threw your head back.

taiju knows already though. he's mesmerized by the way you squeeze and ride him more desperately.

"go ahead. make a mess on me, baby." taiju grunts, feeling your insides squeeze against him more.

and at his command, you're crying out loudly and releasing on him one more.

taiju groans quietly, letting go of your hands and grabbing your waist.

he lifts you up and practically tosses you onto his bed, before pushing your legs up to your ears and sliding into you again.

you press a hand against his stomach, squealing as he presses directly into your sweet spot.

"w-wait taiju! s'too much!" you gasped out, scratching at his abs to try to push him out a bit.

"mm-mm. move it. it's never too much." taiju says gruffly, slapping your hands away and pounding into you.

you toss your head back and moan, feeling your legs begin to shake like you had to cum again.

taiju lets your legs go and they end up wrapped around his waist tightly, trying to still his movements.

but it does nothing, since taiju is much stronger and bigger than you.

he reaches between the both of you and begins rubbing your clit feverishly, relishing in the feeling of you pulling him in.

you feel something begin to build up in your tummy, something stronger than before.

you cry out loudly, still trying to get him to let up on his thrusts.

"g-gonna make a mess! please!" you squeal, feeling his hand begin to press on your tummy.

"i know mama, can feel it." taiju grunts out, still battering your poor pussy senseless.

before you knew it, you were squirting all over his stomach and the sheets below you.

the extra wetness made the thrusts you continued to receive much louder and wetter than before.

"hope you're on the pill." taiju says to you, feeling his hips begin to stutter and lose its rhythm.

you don't let it bother you, too overstimulated to understand anything he could be saying to you.

he wraps his hand around your throat to keep you still as he pushes deep into you, cumming hard.

his scrunches up his nose and groans, shutting his eyes tight.

and although your sight is a bit blurry, you can't help but watching him closely as he rides out his orgasm.

when he's finished, he pulls out of you and watches his cum drip out onto the bed before moving his attention back to your face.

you were spent, and on the verge of falling asleep.

taiju presses two or three kisses to your lips, before rubbing your thigh comfortingly.

"don't go to sleep yet. m'not done." taiju whispers in your ear, gathering some of the cum up and pushing it back into you.

and you definitely did have a feeling he wasn't.

-

the next morning, you wake up in the airbed more sore than you thought you'd be.

the numerous amount of rounds you and taiju did might be the reason, and not because of the airbed have little to none air.

you get out as best as possible, before making your way to the bathroom and brushing your teeth.

yuzuha was already out of bed and was probably downstairs.

when you finish, you go downstairs and see all three of the shibas standing around in the kitchen.

now that you realize it, they all shared more similarities, though hakkai looked much more like taiju standing next to him.

"good morning sleeping beauty. how ya feeling?" yuzuha teases, oblivious as to what happened last night.

you stretch out your limbs and pick up a piece of fruit from her bowl, chewing on it.

"sore, actually. feels like my body was bent wrong." you complain lightly, sitting on the counter next to her.

hakkai spits out his coffee, before coughing loudly and holding onto taiju for support.

the three of you were confused, watching as hakkai wiped his mouth with paper towel.

"uhm.. okay. when did you come back, kai?" yuzuha questioned, shrugging off her brother's odd behvaior.

when he came to his senses and finished cleaning up, he leaned against the counter with a bottle of water.

taiju rolled his eyes and took a sip of his coffee, waiting for hakkai's response.

"sometime around two or three last night." hakkai says hesitantly, drinking his cold water.

taiju then spits out his coffee and you begin to choke on the piece of strawberry in your mouth.

you play yours off with a laugh, covering your mouth as you lean on yuzuha so she laughs too.

he had came in around the time taiju had you in his bed, which is probably why he reacted the way he did.

now it was taiju cleaning up his mess and drinking water.

"i don't get it. what's going on?" yuzuha questioned suspiciously after her laugh dies down, looking at her brothers.

taiju shakes his head, looking at hakkai with a unreadable expression.

hakkai clears his throat after another sip of water, before looking at his older sister.

"the coffee is shit, yuzu. is it dark roast?" hakkai questions, pointing to the bag of coffee grounds.

she checks, and (luckily), the coffee that was in the machine was dark roast.

yuzuha curses quietly and tosses the bag in the garbage, along with the pot of coffee that was made.

"shit, my bad. i'll go get another one now." yuzuha says, grabbing her wallet and keys before turning to you.

she was silently asking if you would be okay staying here while she runs to the store.

you wave her off, massaging your hips just a little bit.

"i'm still sore, so i'll probably lay down for a bit." you explain, flashing her a little smile.

yuzuha nods, before changing out her shoes and offering you a smile.

"i'll bring back some painkillers." yuzuha lets you know, before walking out of the house.

when it's confirmed that yuzuha was out of the driveway, you and taiju turned to hakkai.

"i got one hundred dollars if you keep your mouth shut." you say, pointing your fork at him.

hakkai scoffs, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter with a smirk.

"one fifty sounds like a better bargain honestly." hakkai says, looking at you with a raised brow.

"how about two fifty and you eat for free." taiju bargains with him again, crossing his arms to mock hakkai.

you go to protest about the amount of money, but taiju holds his hand up to you.

it shuts you up almost immediately, especially when hakkai's eyes widen with a grin.

"you got a deal-" "but only you! and maybe mitsuya." taiju restates, cutting hakkai off before he got a big head.

hakkai scoffs, before nodding and saying a short 'fine' under his breath.

hakkai leaves the room after giving taiju his cash app, and goes upstairs.

"i don't have two fifty." you sigh, leaning back and letting him find yourself in between your legs.

he presses a kiss your your lips and then along your jawline.

"don't worry about it. i'll pay him." he whispers, massaging your hips for you.

you nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you pull him into a kiss.

you hope hakkai doesn't see this, or you fear he'll ask for more money.

[dandysworldhcs]

I've never seen headcanons about how twisteds/toons eat that weren't fetishy, so let me drop some here 👅👅👅

- Vee has a chest compartment she can stick things inside that can automatically convert "food items" into energy (she cannot taste anything but she's gonna feel HORRIBLE if her body tries to digest something spoiled/inedible)

-Brightney feeds off of electricity like batteries (mostly because she finds candy kinda gross) that's why she always has the light on, it's essentially her life force

- Rodgers eye can turn into a mouth, it is horrifying

- Boxten can open his head and stick food inside if he doesnt feel like chewing (does this alot when running from something)

- Scraps and Goob don't exactly need to eat food (paper craft + fluffy craft, theyre inanimate) when they do its usually pretend

I can elaborate on twisteds later because what I thought up was VERY concerning

- Panon 🍳 (can I yoink that? Is this how it works?)

you can indeed yoink panon 🍳!

also, im so excited to hear how the twisteds eat....so excited :3c

[lightsovermonaco]

Wedding Date, Part 1 (Pato O'Ward)

an: requests and comments always welcome! There will be at least two more parts to this series.

wc: 4900

Summary: Pato is in need of a wedding date, desperately. Despite hating him, and despite him knowing it, he asks you to be his date and you agree.

"I need a date to this wedding next weekend."

"So? Take your sister." You don't bother to look up from the magazine you flip through. Pato is always in need of a date for something and he always takes his sister. If she's busy, he'll take his mother, or a cousin, or another relative until he's exhausted all options. You're not entirely sure why he's pacing in his trailer now like a caged beast, because even if by some rarity they were all busy, there's a slew of women around the paddock that would jump at the chance to go with him... just not you.

Your distaste of Pato began long before you were ‘promoted’ to the glamorous role of being his pseudo-handler. His flirtatious personality, womanizing one liners and general flippant humor surrounding racing rubs you the wrong way. Racing is a serious business and should be treated as such. It's his lifeblood, not a hobby. Some days you question his dedication, honestly- but voicing said opinions isn't your place. 

Oh, and women. He loves women, too. And the occasional man- You don’t judge him on that front, but god would it kill him to be discreet?

Besides- he's so loud, physically as well as mentally. Being around Pato drains your social battery quicker than a meeting with Zac Brown, and that's saying something. All the Mexican driver does is yap- and not in the fun, gossipy way that people do with their friends.  

In short, you cannot stand the man and would rather walk a mile over hot coals than spend an unnecessary minute with him. 

However, unfortunately for you, your exemplary ability to separate your personal feelings from your work made you the prime candidate for being an assistant. If you had to pinpoint the core tenet of your day to day life, it was the importance of separating church and state; wherein this case, the church is a race track and the state is yourself. People like that apparently, because multiple of your colleagues recommended you for your current role when the job opened up. 

Cue your transition to being Pato's personal therapist slash coordinator slash problem solver. 

Pato scoffs and throws his hands up like a child denied their favorite treat, "so she's busy. And last time I took her to a wedding, she made me leave so early I didn't even get cake! It was horrible.”

"Honestly, from what I heard that's not her fault. Who waits until eleven pm to serve the wedding cake?"

Pato pauses, his half undone race suit swaying slightly at the waist as he turns to wag a finger at you "Someone who doesn't want to interrupt the party, that's who. We were all out on the dance floor, having fun and enjoying ourselves!” You roll your eyes, but Pato either doesn't notice or doesnt care as he continues, “And I'm getting kinda sick of having her at every event... she likes to steal the spotlight."

"Here we go," you mumble, flipping the page and preparing for a long winded Pato-themed rant. 

“I love her, but when I'm the one that's invited in the first place I don't want to leave early. I want to enjoy it, you know? This is Felix's wedding, I want to bring someone fun… hey!” Pato snaps his fingers and turns to you with wide eyes and a grin that has you instantly on edge. You know that face; it means he's got a wild idea, particularly one that requires your assistance to complete. 

“Who am I messaging,” you deadpan as you pull out your phone. No doubt there's some obscure influencer that he's set his eyes on. It'll be up to you then to set up the date (using Pato's Instagram of course, to which you have full access), arrange her flights, ensure her dress is suitable so as to not cause a scandal, and secure two hotel rooms for however long Pato decides his holiday should be. 

“No one! No one- I was just thinking…” Pato’s eyes twinkle like stars. He rolls his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger as he contemplates his request, until finally he says, “why don't you come with me?”

You choke on air at the absurd suggestion. A million reasons flood your mind: because it's unprofessional and because you'd rather endure nails scraping on a chalkboard until the end of time to name a few. 

“I'm not hearing a no,” Pato sing-songs as his stupid grin grows wider and wider. 

“No!” You would like to tell him to fuck off, but your self respect keeps you from doing so. “Where the hell did that insane idea come from-”

“Come on,” Pato holds his hands out in front of him like a beggar in search of pocket change. “Come with me! I'll pay for whatever dress you pick out, the hotel room, flights, everything. I'll take care of it all. Who knows,” Pato shrugs then, the corner of his mouth lifting again in a devilish smile. “Maybe you'll even have fun.”

“Uh, no. Hell no. Even if it wasn't completely unprofessional, I would lose my mind before we even got on a plane. So thanks, but no thanks to being your fake date.”

Pato throws his hands up, the action causing his black fireproofs to come free of his race suit and expose an inch or two of his stomach. Not that you notice. Or care. “Oh come on! Am I really that horrible to be around?”

“Yes,” you respond without looking up from your phone. You make a note on your calendar to have Pato's mental sanity checked before the end of the break, because clearly the music city GP has knocked something loose in his head. 

“I'll give you my race bonus next time I score points.”

That finally gives you pause. You've seen those checks, even deposited them on his behalf once or twice. Tempting, very tempting. Possibly enticing enough for you to throw all thoughts of work-life balance out the window and commit to a few days of torture.

“Can I get that offer in writing?”

**********

“This is insane.” Despite the excessive force you exert on your suitcase, you can't zip the damn thing shut. You've tried sitting on it, rearranging twice, and removing a few things that you decided you don't absolutely need. Maybe the stubborn luggage is the first of many bad omens, the start of the bad luck you've brought upon yourself by accepting Pato's bargain. Perhaps the wisest thing to do is to call him and cancel, even if doing so at the last minute makes you a bit of an ass. 

But doing so would mean you miss an all inclusive, all expenses paid trip to Copenhagen, and who could pass that up? You've never stepped foot outside the Midwest, let alone outside of the country. Passing up an opportunity like this seems wasteful. Anyone else would jump at the opportunity. You shouldn’t let your dislike of the man supplying the credit card stop you from enjoying something.

“Fucking hell,” you mumble under your breath. You can't change your mind now, not after Pato's bought you a dress that's more expensive than the one you wore to your senior prom. The guilt of leaving him to fend for himself and arrive at his best mate's wedding dateless would eat you alive. And besides, you are not returning the dress you picked out. 

“One more go. If I can't get this dumb thing closed in the next three minutes, I won't go.” You tip your head towards the ceiling, “hear that? Three minutes!” 

Your aimless skyward shout is answered by your upstairs neighbor, who stamps their foot. “Ah- sorry Miss. Underwood!” The cranky old woman that lives above you has reported you more than once for bogus reasons; you would rather not have to deal with the front office before your international trip. 

Someone, somewhere must have heard your plea and responded with much more grace than Miss. Underwood, because the suitcase zips closed near effortlessly on your next attempt. “Aha! Finally! God, that was close.”

A message pops up on your phone with near poetic timing, coming not a second after you've dramatically wiped your brow and dusted off your hands. 

I'm leaving now, should be there in about a half hour. You ready?

The idea of riding in a car with Pato alone sounds less ideal than following his strict diet for a single day. Reminding yourself that this is a professional weekend away in Europe and not a personal venture is enough to settle your nerves for now. You can be professional, no problem. Easy peasy.

Yep. I'm still fine with an Uber if you don't want to drive me.

Too late I made up my mind :) see you soon!

“Insufferable.” Dread sets in where excitement lived earlier. You aren't a hundred percent sure you can survive four days with Pato O'Ward in a foreign country. Your limits will be tested, that much you know for sure because you can count on Pato to push every available button you have in order to get a rise out of you. 

Opting for a balance between comfort and style, a simple pair of black leggings and an oversized vintage indy 500 sweater is your preferred travel outfit. Your hair you leave in your usual casual style, not bothering to put in the effort to do anything special with it when it'll likely be ruined by the time you touch down in Copenhagen. 

Pato knocks when he arrives, which seems far too polite to be correct. Part of you expected him to barge in unannounced and make your one bedroom apartment his own. “Hola bella,” he greets with a smile. His hands stay in his pockets. He doesn't invite himself in, despite you leaving the door wide open when you step away to grab your things. 

Interesting. 

“You can come in,” you call over your shoulder. “I have to finish packing up my makeup since you're here early.”

“Oh, yeah sorry. Traffic was lighter than I expected.” It’s odd seeing Pato in anything that isn’t papaya colored or decorated with some sort of racing logo. He wears a forest green hoodie with a little red heart in the center with a pair of matching sweats. It’s one of those outfits that seems cringe on the average person, but works infuriatingly well on Pato.

Pato doesn't venture further into your apartment than the three steps that are required for him to be able to close the door without it hitting him. You purse your lips and motion to the sofa as your hosting instinct takes over, “you can sit if you want. I should only be a few minutes.”

“Take your time, our flight doesn't leave for a few hours. No rush.” You hate it when Pato tips his head and smiles like that because for a split second every time you hate him a little bit less. Thankfully, it all comes back in full force when he looks away from you. 

Despite Pato’s reassurance you do rush, because the idea of him scrutinizing your place is mortifying. Like, ‘oh fuck me I forgot to wear pants to the board meeting' level of embarrassing to know that he’s out there judging your decor or wondering how you’ve shoved so much into such a tiny one bedroom apartment. Sure, it's small, but it's home and you couldn't imagine living anywhere else. While a bigger place might be nice someday, your paychecks remind you to keep your dreams in check on a biweekly basis. 

To be safe and avoid giving Pato time to linger, you sweep the contents of your vanity into a zippered bag and stuff it into your carry on. You do a final cursory lap through the attached bathroom to ensure all hair dryers, candle warmers, and taps are turned off or unplugged. Once satisfied, you drag your overweight suitcase out. 

“Okay, I think I'm ready.” 

Pato stands in your living room checking out the knock off vintage style race posters that decorate the walls. As expensive as authentic race memorabilia is, you can’t exactly afford to spend hundreds on a single slip of paper for the sake only of hanging it on a wall. Only one poster is real and that is the poster you purchased from the first race you were trackside for with Arrow. Pato points to that one with a cheeky grin, “that's the first race you worked with us, isn't it? I remember that being the first time I saw you on track.” 

“Yes, it was. Now can we go?” You shift on your feet, uncomfortable now that Pato is seeing a side of you that you don't normally share with anyone but your close friends and family. Heaven forbid he notices the family photos on the lower shelf, then you'll be mortified when he laughs at how silly you looked in your Halloween costumes when you were little. 

“Oh yeah, of course. I'm sure you're excited to get a move on!” Pato reaches for your suitcase which catches you off guard. You snatch the handle before he can. “I can help, I really don’t mind. You’re doing me a favor after all.”

Your stubborn independence does not allow you to accept unnecessary help, so you shake your head. “Sorry,” you mumble as your cheeks heat. “I can take care of it.” 

“Alright, note to self… don't be too polite or it'll set you off.” Pato winks, then holds the door for you as you both exit. He waits at the stairs while you lock up, then leads the way to the Mercedes parked at the curb. 

“Right, just the one suitcase? You've got your dress packed in here right?” Pato hefts the suitcase into the car and grins. “Actually I know the answer to that. I told you that you could've spent more on a dress. A hundred dollars? That's it?”

“I don't like wasting money,” you snap. “To some of us, that's expensive.” 

Money has been, and always will be, a touchy subject. Growing up with very little means that you now scrutinize every penny, only spending regularly on things that are strictly necessary. Your budget each month is airtight and you are always careful to save a fair amount before you so much as consider treating yourself to something off your wishlist. 

Pato holds up his hands in apology. “Wasn't trying to insult you, just trying to make conversation. You're doing me a favor here so I just wanted to make sure you got what you wanted.” 

“Right, sure.” Spinning the ring on your left index finger has become somewhat of a nervous tick for you. Pato’s eyes flick to your hands, which immediately sets you on edge. Racing drivers are an observant breed, which is something you silently curse the universe for. 

The ride to the airport is filled with awkward silences. The quiet is broken by the sound of the engine and the occasional directive from the gps on the dash. Pato’s playlist is a mix of spanish and english and you willfully ignore when he occasionally sings along under his breath. So you keep quiet with your attention locked on your phone to avoid being dragged into any small talk. 

The plane ride is more of the same: quiet and tense. Which is partially because despite you insisting on a simple, affordable coach ticket, Pato had ignored your wishes and booked both of you in business class. At least the long flight would be comfortable if nothing else. Granted it would be more enjoyable if you weren't sitting next to a five-foot-something racing driver, but beggars can't be choosers. 

“It's a long flight, so I thought I'd give you the window. The sun will be coming up when we're over Europe, and the view is always to die for. I got us seats on the left side of the plane so you can have the best photo opportunities.” 

That's the second time today that Pato has surprised you, though you would rather eat soap than admit that to his face. “I usually like the aisle, but thanks I guess. I'll probably be sleeping anyway.” 

Pato's expression is one of regret, like maybe he's realizing how insane of an idea this is. “Err, right. I guess I should've known that, considering how often we fly together.”

“We don't fly together. When we have to fly to a race, you fly business class and I sit in the back with the rest of the regular people,” you remind him without remorse. You hate when he throws his wealth in your face, like the seat you're occupying doesn't cost a month's worth of your salary. 

“Right…” 

You almost feel bad. But then you remember that Pato has everything he could ever want or need, and you’re right back to where you started. 

Despite how well you think you hide it, Pato is fully aware of your feelings toward him, or rather lack thereof. Where the relationships you nurture with your other colleagues are fun and friendly, the one you maintain with Pato is strictly professional. Seeing you pivot from laughing with Rossi- Rossi of all people- one minute, to relaying instructions to him in a mechanical voice is evidence enough of how little you think of him. 

Pato has no idea why you're so set on hating him. He has no inkling what he might have done to deserve such animosity. It seems like no matter what he does, your frosty attitude only worsens into an arctic chill. He thought that bringing you on this trip might open your eyes to the other side of him, that maybe allowing you to see what he was like outside of the track could prove to you that he wasn’t the devil that you thought he was. 

So far, no dice. You declined his invitation to join him for breakfast at the highest rated cafe in the city this morning, so he'd gone alone instead and relished the fact that not a single person asked him for a photo or shoved a scrap of paper in his face for him to sign. Once in a while it was nice to fly under the radar, to pass by hundreds of people on the street and have them be none the wiser to his achievements. 

The concept of downtime is foreign to Pato. Being alone and unbothered gave him time to ruminate, which is why he generally preferred to surround himself with a certain level of chaos. In the paddock, that generally meant entertaining himself and others by being the class clown. Cameras are everywhere on a race weekend, watching him like a bug under a magnifying glass, so he generally humored them by putting on a bit of a show. In his personal life, the chaos came from the frequent visits to his hometown where he would be surrounded by family and pets that kept him on his toes. 

Now that he has had time to reflect, Pato is beginning to see the foolishness in his impulsive decision. Asking you to be his date was arguably up there with the dumbest things he's ever done, and that's saying something considering he'd once poured honey in Rossi's boots on a race weekend. He understands now, at least partially, why you were hesitant to accept. 

It doesn't bother him, the fact that you can't stand him. Pato enjoys poking you, seeing how far he can press before you snap at him. It's his way of flirting because yes, he thinks you're gorgeous. There's no point denying it so he might as well embrace it. Perhaps his invitation was wholly selfish, his way of trying to cope with the offseason and knowing he likely wouldn’t be seeing you for weeks at a time. You would miss him as little as one might miss the sticky summer humidity, while Pato would miss you like the sun misses the moon. 

Which is fine. It's fine if you don't laugh at his jokes. It's fine if your lip curls like you've smelt rotten milk whenever he speaks and you don't think he's looking. It’s fine that you don’t spare him a second of your attention, even now when he’s brought you on a trip that he thought could be the start of some positive change. That's all fine, because it doesn't matter if you like him or not. 

Okay, on second thought, maybe it does bother him a little. 

If anything, Pato hopes that this weekend will be the start of you at least tolerating him. Salvaging a scrap of understanding from you cannot be impossible, and even if it were, Pato has defied the odds numerous times before. No one believed in him when he was coming up through the karting ranks, but he did. And he believes in himself now, that he can begin to alter your opinion of him one small gesture at a time. 

Pato unlocks his phone to message you. 

Do you have plans today? I was gonna go to a few museums and see the sights if you wanna join. Up to you!

He debates for a minute about the exclamation mark. Is it too in your face? Too cheery or forceful? Eventually he deletes it before hitting send. Better to sound nonchalant than overdo it. 

His phone remains face down on the table until he finishes his tea. Seeming too eager could be his downfall and he is determined to make this seem as casual as possible. Only once an appropriate amount of time has passed does he allow himself to read your response: sure. I guess so but I don't want to blow my entire budget in one day just fyi

That's fair, dw a lot of it is free!

I'll be ready in an hour 

An hour, Pato can keep himself busy for an hour. Popping in an earbud and exploring for a bit seems like a decent option; he spends thirty minutes listening to music and just walking with no real aim in mind. Once back at the hotel, just on time as per usual, he freshens up in his room. 

Bare bones and necessities is what Patp prefers when he travels. He doesn't like the pomp and circumstance that comes along with a suite; the hotel staff treat him differently when he stays in the expensive rooms even if they haven't the faintest clue who he is. He prefers unassuming, single bed rooms that are no fuss, no muss. And that sort of room is exactly what he booked himself in Copenhagen: low nightly rate, plain but clean white bed sheets, and a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in. 

The room Pato picked for you was this room's opposite. The queen suite was available on the website when he made the last minute reservation and he had not seen any reason not to treat you to a taste of luxury for the weekend. Silk sheets, a fully decorated sitting room, and walk in waterfall shower were only the tip of the iceberg. Included in the weekend rate was a night at the in-house spa if you chose to use it. And while Pato is quite certain you won't bother, he thinks the choice might be nice nonetheless.

Pato had selected that room without a second thought and gone as far as requesting your favorite drinks be stocked up in the suite fridge for your arrival. Since arriving last night, you haven't mentioned the room. Which doesn't matter, because Pato doesn't need the praise; in fact, kind words would feel slightly out of place from you. 

The elevator takes Pato to the top floor, where he finds your room at the end of the hall. It's not hard to find, considering there's three doors in the entire hallway. Pato knocks twice, then steps back to wait. 

“Yeah, coming,” comes your muffled call from inside. The brass room number plate on the door reflects a slightly distorted version of Pato. He can't make a decent impression looking wonky with his hair a mess; how unattractive is hair that stands up on end in every which way? Pato runs his fingers through his hair to loosen up the extra putty he'd applied. The door opens suddenly and you catch him red handed, one hand in his hair and the other holding his phone. 

Perfect.

“I guess I'm never escaping the vanity accusations huh?” Pato's laugh is shaky, awkward even to his own ears. He drops his hands and does his best not to let his gaze wander over you, as tempting as it is. He's determined to make a good impression this weekend, and blatantly checking you out probably wouldn't help his case. 

“Nope, never.” You shake your head and let the oak door click shut behind you. “Well then, you're the man with the plan. Have you been to Copenhagen before or are you just going to the typical tourist places?”

“Hold on, hold on. I think that's the most you've ever said to me at once that wasn't work related. I need a second to process this- you have a personality? This is big news!” Pato grins, hoping to ease into things. He knows it's bad when you don't immediately return the smile. 

Pato doesn't really tend to think around you,  hence the near constant shitty jokes. His brain takes a break from its normal high strung, ping ponging thoughts and empties itself of unnecessary noise. When in your presence, Pato is unfiltered and unapologetically himself. 

When you started at McLaren, he quickly learned that you were safe. Judgment was not something you leveled lightly upon someone. Your prickly exterior was a way of ensuring you don't let the wrong people get close enough to hurt you, but Pato knows that's not all of it. Regardless of how you presented yourself to the world, Pato knows you care deeply for those you choose to include in your life. He also knows you'll always be there when he fails, a steady shoulder for him to lean on- which is more than he can say about many of his previous driver assistants. 

Being comfortable is freeing, but it also gets him in trouble with you more often than he would like. Judging by your current deadpan, he's qualified deadlast as far as ‘appropriately timed humor’ is concerned. “That was a joke,” Pato says after a pause that stretches for an eternity.”

“I am aware that was your attempt at being funny.” You cross your arms and Pato notes the tiny papaya indy car embroidered on the cuff of your cream sweater. “Has anyone ever told you that you're insufferable? You know what, on second thought maybe I'll just stay here.” 

All at once, Pato flies through fear, regret and guilt in the half second it takes you to turn towards the door. He fucks everything up, doesnt he? Gets a good thing going for once, finally convinces you to spend some one on one time with him, and he winds up spilling the marbles. This isn't racing; he can't act on instinct and expect the best outcome. He has to be calculated, hold his tongue and not speak until he's sure the words are the one he wants to say. 

“No wait.” Pato’s fingers brush your arm to stop you. “Look, I'm just trying to be sure you enjoy your time here. I've never been here before,” he adds in answer to your earlier question. “I'm as much of a tourist as you are, so having an exploration partner would be good.” 

“I don't really feel like doing anything with you if you're going to be a dick. No, let me speak,” you say when he opens his mouth. “No macho bullshit alright? Just be normal. I don't need all the bravado and the jokes that make me feel like shit. Just… be Pato, alright? Be yourself for once.”

Pato knows he deserves all that and more. You let him off easy, really. He's been focused on creating a persona instead of being real with you. So Pato nods, centering himself like Rossi taught him last season. Once he feels like himself again some handful of breaths later, he offers you a genuine smile. 

“Let me start again. They have an aquarium here,” Pato says, voice light. Without willing it, a half smile appears on his lips when you tip your head ever so slightly, indicating for him to continue. “I love aquariums, sea otters are my favorite animal. And the jellyfish are cute too! With their squishy bodies and the tentacles-”

There he goes again, his mouth racing a lap ahead of his good sense. Pato's apologetic wince isn't a proper apology, but you accept it nonetheless and throw him a bone that he'll happily chew on. 

“I like aquariums. That sounds like it could be fun.”

[multifandomwhore-003]

Random Hazel Callahan headcanons that have been rotting my brain for the past couple of days:

Pairing: Hazel Callahan x female! reader

Summary: Not needed

Genre(s): a little angsty at first, after that's it's just pure fluff

Warnings: mentions of trauma and maladaptive daydreaming

A/N: I'M GONNA WRITE MORE FOR HER BECAUSE I NEED IT SO STAY TUNED, also I listened to False God by Taylor Swift the entire time I wrote this.

Taglist: @aemonds-holy-milk , join tag list here

• She has horrible listening skills, usually her house has been a pretty noisy and chaotic place, even before her parents divorced, so she's learned to mute the outside world.

• It tends to annoy pretty much everyone else outside the fight club, the only exception being PJ, she perhaps got annoyed more than anyone.

• When you first noticed you had to repeat yourself at least five times whenever she was around, you tried to come up with different ways for her to keep up, like texting her as you spoke so she could read it as much as she needed to.

• Later on you found out it wasn't just about losing track of a conversation, as you asked to borrow one of her headphones one time, you were shocked her ears weren't bleeding right then and there.

"Fucking hell, Hazel! Are you trying to break your ears or something?" your ears hurt for a second.

"It's not loud at all" She placed them on her neck.

"Baby, I can hear the music coming out of those things like a concert speaker,"

• You decided to invite her over to your house as often as possible, demanding a no-headphones rule.

"Why not?!" she complained.

"Because you're gonna be completely deaf at the age of 40!"

"And you'll be there to teach me sign language, right?" she hugged your waist.

"You're saying you prefer not hearing my voice for the rest of our lives?" you lifted a brow.

• The realazation dawned on her.

• To this day she hasn't worn headphones a single day in her life.

• Maladaptive daydreaming is also something she struggles with, not as much now as she used to in middle school and the first two years of high school, but it still happens sometimes.

• You found out when you decided to surprise her by coming to her house one day

• Mrs. Callahan said she couldn't get in contact with Hazel, for whatever reason.

• Most likely her phone turned off since it was out of battery.

• So she texted you she was gonna be missing all night, permitted you to stay the night, and told you to take care of Hazel.

• You found her in the kitchen yelling, it sounded as if she was yelling at someone.

"Are you ever gonna choose me over a booty call?! How is it that Jeff's dick is more important than me?! Your daughter! You fucking pushed me out and you still can't even ask me how my grades are doing and shit!"

• Your first thought was —Her mom's plans must've been canceled—

• As you approached the room as quietly as possible, you looked through the rim of the entrance, there was no one.

"Hazel," you spoke quietly through her screams.

A shiver went down her spine, he face turned white, she blinked a couple of times before turnind her head, "How much of that did you hear?" she avoided your eyes.

"I've never heard you like that," was all you could mutter as you approached her slowly and then embraced her in a hug, "I know you're not insane by the way," you whispered in her hair.

She began to cry.

• She didn't want to talk about it for the next few days

• When she did, she stumbled upon her words, talked too fast, and teared up every once in a sentence.

"Call me first," you cupped her face, "I'll never judge you for whatever you have to say,"

• She wanted to kiss you right then and there, but just rested her forehead on yours, an act of ultimate intimacy.

• I could get into the divorced parents' trauma for hours because same

• But for now I'll move on to the happy part

• Physical touch is the absolute most pure form of love she can give

• If she's not hugging your waist at all times, she's holding your hand, resting her head on your chest, shoulders, legs, etc. pretty much everywhere she can

• If you have long or medium hair she'll attempt to braid your hair, keyword attempt

• If you have short hair she'll buy little elastic ponytails to tie them around your head everywhere she can

• Her reasoning behind this is that her favorite plants are cactuses

• That's it, that's all the reasons she needs

• If you happen to be bald she'll rub your head while singing the chorus to Diamonds by Rihanna

• She plays ukelele

• She knows how to make a few origami figures and if she tries a new one, as crumbled and sweaty as it is she gives it to you

• You have a whole shelf in your room dedicated to every piece of folded paper she's ever done for you

• If you're more of a fem! girl, she'll try something of yours whenever she comes over and stare at her reflection for hours

"Good thing, god didn't make me straight, she knew I would be a menace,"

• You can only roll your eyes and laugh at her twirling and pretending to dance ballet in your dresses and skirts

• If she happens to go shopping without you, she'll try something you'll like and send you the photo after

"If it looks this good on me, imagine how AMAZING it'll look on you,"

• She once asked you to put makeup on her, she'll say she was just curious how she'd look

• She wasn't lying, but she also didn't mention she just wanted to recreate this picture:

• If you happen to be more of a masc! girl, you'll trade clothes as often as you can think

• More than once you have arrived at school with something she likes and just drags you to the bathroom to for you to make the exchange

• It's not her clothes and your clothes anymore, everything you own is hers and vice versa

• More often than not you're no longer sure what used to be only yours

• This goes for accessories and shoes as well, even if they don't fit her, she'll fill them up with toilet paper until they fit just fine

• You'll match AT LEAST once a week, as per her request of course

• She tries all kinds of chips (or crisps for my British luvs) she has tried every flavor and seasoning, but her favorites and the flaming hot ones, even if she ends up chugging your waterbottle after finishing the bag

• Although her parents are rich and taught her from a young age to be a precise wine taster, she's a tequila and vodka girl

• She hates gloomy and rainy days because they bring down her mood, but spending the day binge-watching cheesy movies and stuffing her stomach with all the snacks o her house makes it up

• She's ABSOLUTE SHIT at Karaoke, but my god does she have the spirit

• Her go-to song is Lies by Fleetwood Mac, but if she's drunk enough to gain confidence she'll request Easy On Me by Adele

•  If she insists for long enough and you decide to sing with her, she 100% will try to recreate the following musical numbers:

• Lay all you love on me -Mamma Mia

• Every duet there is in Teen Beach Movie, her favorite childhood movie

• The cellblock tango -Chicago and Ex-Wives -from Six, if the rest of the fight club joins as well

• Popular from Wicked, strangely enough, she's Glinda

• Seventeen -Heathers

• Candy Store -Heathers featuring Isabel as Heather Mc Namara, Josie as Martha Dunnstock, and PJ as Veronica (She was heavily forced to after Brittany suggested it)

• Smooth Criminal -The Glee cast cover

• If you're a good singer, or at least a decent one, at the end of the song she'll hype you up more than anyone in the crowd, even carry you (this also applies to my plus size! lovelies, DON'T YOU WORRY, she has muscles)

• If you're a bad singer, then you'll be shit together, the worse your voices sound, the better you'll enjoy it

• Onto the kissing and overall more stereotypical relationship stuff, aka the not-so-comfortable part of my asexual-spectrum girlies.

• As previously shown in the original material

• Kissing is slow and passionate, she likes to enjoy your lips as much as possible, taking in every movement, taste, and breath

• Hands on your jaw  and neck EVERY FUCKING TIME

• The first few times you offered her some chapstick or lipstick, or lipgloss, or lip oil, or anything, she would kiss you making you chuckle in surprise

• Now you don't even need to ask, she'll just be like

"Hey, your lips look beautiful," and peck you on the lips

• If you're alone it definitely turns into a whole makeout session

• She just claims it tastes too good not to do it

• Every once in a while she'll hug you from behind and aggressively kiss your cheek

• Good luck kisses before every test

• Her favorite kind of dates are picnic dates

• She takes pictures of the sky whenever she feels it matches your vibe

• She takes A LOT of pictures of you ANYTIME, ANYWHERE, she even went as far as to buy a film camera because they make everything more magical

• She reads A LOT

• She obviously knows too much about social injustices and everything regarding that realm, but she likes other things as well

• Avid fantasy reader, I DON'T MAKE THE RULES,

• Going back to this need for escapism, she was heavily raised by George R.R. Martin and Leigh Bardugo

• Definitely screamed, jumped, and overall looked like she was in a sugar rush when both Game of Thrones and Shadow and Bone came out

• She wasn't exactly allowed to watch Game of Thrones at the time it came out, so she watched when she was 16 instead

• Shadow and Bone, however, oh boy, it was whole event

• She cosplayed Sturmhond and made you cosplay as Zoya

.

.

.

That's it for now children, if I come up with anything else I'll do a part two or even better write something more complete

[fox-guardian]

personally 👀 if u would like to elaborate on the saw au 👀 i am listening 👀

hi <3 this ask is months old <3 but i am answering it now teehee

SO. TMA SAW AU (disclaimer: i have only seen the first two movies so idk if these are very like. film accurate style traps)

basically it's just. what if a saw movie happened to the archive gang. they're all in one big space that's like a big trap in the sense that they all have the same time limit but they all get their own little traps also <3 the breakdown is this:

Jon is gagged with a camera in his mouth that he cannot remove without a key, it's strapped to his face with horrible rusted metal, y'know. Once time runs out, the battery powering the camera will leak down his throat killing him so so painfully <3 He cannot speak and must find other ways to communicate with the others.

Sasha has what is essentially a VR headset strapped to her head and she can't remove that without a key either. The headset is showing her the live feed from Jon's camera, so she essentially has to see through his eyes the entire time. When time runs out, two big ol' spikes will stab her in the eyes and give her a good ol' fashioned impromptu lobotomy <3

Tim's trap is a bit different from the others'. Instead of a contraption, he was injected with a paralytic prior to the gang waking up, and is paralyzed from the waist down. He needs a key to obtain the antidote for the paralytic. Rather than having a specific time when he suddenly dies, he's essentially either relying on the others to help him move/get the key/antidote for him, or he needs to move himself despite his paralysis in order to live. So when time runs out, it's either find a way to move anyway or wait for the paralytic to travel further through his body and kill him slowly after experiencing many terribly side effects (hypotension, bronchospams, and renal failure)

Martin is even more different. His trap is less about his death and more about saving the others. He's placed in a big freezer where he basically needs to find the others' keys in blocks of ice (joshua gillespie core) and if he doesn't, they'll definitely die. He also has the option of finding the key to unlocking his own door and simply escaping without saving the others. He also also has the option of only taking some keys, but not all. He will know which will save who, and gets to choose. The trap itself isn't that difficult, but there's A Lot Of Ice, and it's Really Cold and he's Already Been There A While so there's a chance of dying of hypothermia if he can't find the keys fast enough (or if he spends the time finding the others' keys after he's found his own).

Jon, Tim, and Sasha all wake up in the same room together. Jon wakes up first and is able to watch a video tape explaining what's going on, but it can't be watched more than once, so he has to explain what's happening to the others without being able to speak. He can't speak, only play charades and listen.

Sasha isn't able to see except through Jon's eyes, so he has to rely on the two of them to make sure she's not walking into more danger. She also is unable to understand any of Jon's explanations since a lot of it is through body language and She Can't See That, so they have to work together so she can watch Tim translate. She can't see through her own eyes and is forced to watch through someone else's.

Tim either has to trust that the others will come back for him (and that they won't die somewhere in this building) or get them to carry him around, slowing them down but giving him more of a chance at survival. He either has to take action, or simply wait and trust.

Martin has to make a choice between risking what's left of his life for other people (some of which who don't care about him), or saving himself. Even if the others find the room he's in, it's locked from the inside so it is entirely on Martin to save both himself and everyone else. Not only do the others have to rely on each other, but they all have to rely on Martin. The door will lock behind him when he leaves, so if he doesn't get everyone's keys, then whoever is left without one will die.

idk if these traps are entirely fitting for all their character's and flaws and whatnot, but for the research trio i thought it'd be fun to do an audio/vigilo/opperior with them and then martin gets to play god suddenly lol.

[medicshope]

I’m bored, and for the life of me don’t wanna write for the like..15 other full length wips, I present you what I would think that the pony express crew would bring on the tulpar alongside their clothes & hygiene!

Daisuke:

Along with him canonically carrying a gameboy on ship with him, I feel he’d probably bring those game boy stereo headphones so he can play at night.

With swanseas voice line about Daisuke only thinking with his ‘downstairs long nose’, I headcanon that Daisuke would have a higher libido (sex drive), so he’d probably pack some type of porn magazine.

Would probably bring like six different games for the gameboy. (Most likely Pokémon games.)

Curly:

Probably wouldn’t take much on board, maybe a card game to play with jimmy whenever duty is slow.

Also brought a history book onboard. Probably ww2 or ww1. I see him as a huge history nerd, just look at him and say he isn’t. I dare you.

I see him as a guy to chew tobacco so he’d probably sneak in chewing tobacco in his boxers. Helps him focus when it’s late.

Swansea:

Pictures of his kids and wife, and a switchblade? I see him as a guy to pack anything he might need so for some reason I think he’d pack a switchblade to make repairs easier

..he’d also bring batteries. You don’t know how much you need batteries until you don’t have them.

Probably somehow snuck on his kids drawings. He didn’t pack them. Neither did he pack the stuffed bunny he knew belonged to his son. Wonder how those got there..

Jimmy:

Chewing tobacco, probably the one to get curly into chewing tobacco, also turns into his dealer and upsells him but shh…

Pocketknife/butterfly knife. Does tricks with it absentmindedly on the ship, scares the ever living shit out of Anya when she enters the lounge late at night and is met with a deadpanned jimmy twirling around an open blade. Almost fainted the first time.

Probably alcohol too. He seems like a corona or bud light guy. Brings a 12 case. Low tolerance too so it’s one and done sadly for him. Snuck it in under his white long sleeves.

Anya:

Either a Walkman or a cd player with those orange cushiony headphones. Music helps her calm, and it helps her sleep. Freaks out if it isn’t with her, was totally a gift from her mom.

Coloring books or sketch pad too. I head-canon her to be a big sketcher or painter, just can’t paint on the freighter. She likes to make big doodle pages with different sketches or sketches of things around her.

Stuffed animal, probably a blue bunny or a white lamb. No I won’t explain. She seems like a stuffed animal person, totally sees them as little people and turns them around before changing.

Heating pad too. She looks like she had horrible back pain so to fix that…heating pad. Also helps her with cramps. It sits on her desk in the medical room.

[thevoidstaredback]

So, I assume cores are like a ghosts version of autistic special interests, and assumedly not everyone becomes a ghost?

But what if Jack does, his core could be ghosts itself, and is one of the strongest fresh ghosts to be out there, one worthy of rivalling king Danny.

Oo! I like this. I haven't gotten too far into any world building, but let's see if we can do this some justice. I haven't ever written Jack, so this might be absolutely horrible. Also, most of my knowledge is purely fanon or what I made up on the fly.

Idk if this is what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. <2

Jack Fenton had always loved ghosts. His parents read him ghost stories and myths and legends when he was growing up, his sister was very into the dark and macabre, and his brother even took him ghost hunting a few times!

Yes, the Nightingale family had been witch hunters, but an interest change came with the name change. It was a package deal, really. One that know one really registered until much later down the line.

At the end of his senior year, Jack meet Madeline. If you asked her, it was love at first sight. If you asked him, it was love at first fight.

Maddie, as she liked to be called, had been raised by her grandmother. The woman taught Maddie everything she knows about the supernatural, claiming to be a medium. No one ever believed her.

Jack had a friend throughout high school named Vlad. Vlad was, in every sense of the word, paranoid. He had measures against everything supernatural, metaphysical, real, ect. If you could think of it, he probably had something to counter it.

The three made quite the team in college. Maddie and Jack had applied to the same colleges, only going to the one that accepted them both. Vlad followed after them, saying that he didn't trust Jack to leave him on his own.

"Ridiculous!" Jack had whispered to Maddie, "He just doesn't like being alone."

Ghosts were the common interest between the three, having grow up around some kind of exposure, so when someone offhandedly mentions a theoretical way that a living being could enter the Realm of the Dead, well, they had to see if it was actually possible.

Which leads them to nearly twenty-three years later. Their research had gotten Vlad hospitalized, so he wasn't there to share in the success, but that hadn't stopped Jack and Maddie. They'd worked for years to build a portal into the Afterlife for the opportunity to study a real life ghost.

Their research, of course, had been shunned in many occult circles, but that's okay. Those guys were all quacks and crazies anyway. Who needs their approval?

Ghosts were the emotions of a formerly living being that had imprinted themselves on ectoplasm. The proof? There was a ghost attack on their college during their junior year. Everyone thought they had staged it because no one saw the ghost, but Jack, Maddie, and Vlad knew. They had gathered the small bit of glowing green goo to study it.

That glowing green goo had been what had powered up the portal when they got it build. They used it like a battery.

So why hadn't it worked?

Well, it worked eventually, but why had it taken nearly four hours after the initial activation of the portal?

Regardless, they had been right and now Amity Park was full of proof to prove themselves to everyone that had ever laughed at them! If only Vlad could've shared in the glorious moment. He's not dead! They just...lost contact shortly after Danny was born.

Jumping forward almost two decades, Jack and Maddie were sat down by their children, Jasmine and Danny. Apparently, Danny had been the one to activate the portal by dying. It was...a lot to process, but they were happy he had come to them, even if it had taken two years.

It made them rethink a lot of their thoughts over the years. But, you can't really teach an old dog new tricks, no matter how much you explain and demonstrate it.

They didn't hurt Danny! God, no. They'd already done that enough.

No, Jack and Maddie redoubled their efforts to study ghosts with the added intention of understanding them.

Everyone in Amity Park know that there's at least a 90% chance they'll become a ghost when they die. That is quickly lowered to a 50% chance when the understanding that intent matters in all situations, even death. Those who want to rest won't come back as a ghost. Those who have something to finish or do have a bigger chance of coming back. Maybe not with all their memories, but they might.

Maddie, when she died of a combination of radiation - because ectoplasm is barely radioactive, but consistent exposure for most of her life doomed her - and old age, wanted to rest. She had done enough in her life, so she was ready to leave it behind.

Jack, when he died of the same combination with the addition of pneumonia, wanted to be with Maddie. But he also wanted to finally finish what he and Maddie and Vlad had started all those years ago.

Upon his death, Jack remembered a conversation he'd had shortly after Danny had come clean about being Phantom.

"Dann-o?" Jack had asked one morning.

"Hey, dad," Danny had tried to smile, but he seemed so tired. He was always tired. Had he always been this tired? Was this a new thing? Jack was horrified that he didn't know.

Jack had sat down next to his son on the couch, not too close as to be imposing, but close enough to be comforting. "What's wrong?"

Danny took a very long time to answer, words seeming to fall apart in his mouth. "Are you and mom going to keep trying to capture ghosts?"

Jack blinked. Why wouldn't they? There was still so much to know! So many theories to prove or disprove! So much locked potential that no one was ever going to look into again simply because no one else thought it possible!

"I mean-" Danny scrunched his nose in thought, trying to piece the words together in a way that someone who couldn't read his thoughts or be in his head could understand. "You and mom have worked to study ghosts for basically your whole lives. But, now that you know I am one, are you going to stop? Like, are you going to stop hunting them - us - down? Are you guys going to keep trying to hurt us?"

Oh. Oh. He's- Danny, he's- he's worried that they'll hurt him? "Oh, Danny," he said, "It was never our intention to hurt you."

"But-!"

"But we can't just drop everything. We've been doing this our whole lives almost, like you said. What are we supposed to do if we stop it all?"

Danny didn't say anything. In fact, he looked devastated. Why..?

Oh. Oh.

"It's not like that!" Jack was quick to say, "We're-we're not going to hunt ghosts any longer. If anything, we'll probably just want to ask some questions? I don't really know. I'll have to talk to your mom about it some more, but- We don't want to hurt you, Danny. It was never our intention."

Danny had been very quiet and a bit distant for the rest of the week after that. Unless, he'd always been like that? But he opened back up a little while later.

Jack and Maddie had never really completed their research on ghosts, so it's no surprise that one of them would come back as the thing they spent their lives after. But now came the question of what Ghost!Jack's obsession is.

It's usually seen as insensitive to ask a ghost what their Obsession is. But, if you know what their Obsession is, most are beyond thrilled to share it with you, basically info dumping everything they know about the subject, sharing related items, and learning more with you. It's a fun experience for all involved, especially if two or more ghosts have the same or similar enough Obsessions.

Really, it shouldn't have been a surprise that Jack Fenton's Obsession was Ghosts, considering his life.

Once that was a widely known fact, though, some began to wonder what his core and powers would be. Aside from, of course, the basic power set that all ghosts get when they become a ghost.

Cores and powers go hand in hand with a ghost's Obsession. Sometimes they amplify one another, sometimes they compliment one another. Very rarely are they the same thing.

For example, King Phantom's core is ice, his Obsession is protection, and his powers relating to that of ice, mostly offensive and defensive focuses. Ember's core is fire, her Obsession music, and her powers are similar to those of the sirens of myths.

You get the idea.

Then again, the Fenton Family has never been normal, has it? Not even as far back as when they were the Nightingale Family.

King Phantom had figured out one day what his father's powers were, and, consequently, his strength. It was an accident, really! They hadn't seen each other in a while, and Jack's hugs were already monstrously strong before he'd become a ghost-

Who knew that ghosts could get shattered spines?

Jack Fenton, upon becoming the very thing he'd spend his life dedicated to, gained the ability to copy another ghost's power via manipulation of his core.

While most ghosts' cores were a single solid substance like ice or fire or shadows, Jack's core was ectoplasm. Able to change and adapt to his needs, not set in any one way.

Phantom was beyond glad his father, who became known as The Professor, was on his side.

Storyboard

[shipmansflannels]

the alchemy | shauna shipman x reader

what if I told you I'm back? see what I did there? :) anyway, I'm back. this week I'll probably update for more days in a row (tonight, maybe tomorrow and sunday too), because tomorrow is a holiday here in brazil and, as I have more time to post than on regular days, I decided to reward you. better prepare, because this is my first oneshot with shauna and I really hope you like it (I put my best effort into it because shauna is my favorite character, so that's it, I hope it turned out good.) obviously the whole thing is a reference to "the alchemy" by taylor swift, so I also hope you managed to convey what I meant by interpreting the song. enjoy!

sorry for any grammatical or coherence errors, english is not my first language and I'm trying to improve!

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

the alchemy | shauna shipman x reader

-> prompt: you and the midfielder are secretly dating. <-

warnings: non cannon, no crash, most fem!reader but it works for gender neutral readers too, some swear words, jock!shauna, sub!reader, soft dom!shauna, jealous!shauna, very subtle smut (because I still don't know how to write one), secret relationship, platonic!jackie x reader.

***

Honestly, you could get used to it.

It wasn't like it was the worst thing in the world to not be able to admit that you and Shauna were properly together to your friends, even your closest ones. In fact, it was even exciting for you to be in a secret relationship. As an extremely private and intense person, you would hate someone noticing while you and your girlfriend were kissing in any corner and feeling entitled to have an opinion about it.

Honestly, it was much better this way. Just the two of you. And your parents. The only ones who knew you were getting to know each other better.

The whole thing started that same year, after the boring science fair proposed by the most boring teacher in the world, in which you had to stand in front of your booth with a failed attempt at a volcano that worked with detergent and bicarbonate. Shauna was at the booth next to you, also with an attempt at a ladybug that worked using a cell phone battery to get around, and she was kind enough to praise your botched project, unlike the other colleagues.

But you didn't really talk until days later. You started to notice her more, of course, more than before - because the idea that the Yellowjackets were extremely popular because of their victories over the other teams at school wasn't enough - but you didn't catch her attention until the day you were walking across the field to deliver a piece of homework to Coach Martinez and one of her kicks accidentally hit you in the face.

When you woke up, in the infirmary with a broken nose and horrible-tasting medicine, Shauna Shipman was next to you, in the worn yellow armchair next to the infirmary bed, and began pouring every apology possible in your direction, while your head was spinning and you were still groggy, looking like you were asleep.

It was the worst night's sleep you had in your life. And honestly, after that, nights of sleep were rare for you, so it didn't matter.

The thing is, Shauna was unintentionally becoming popular, and she couldn't blow the opportunity by publicly dating someone who wasn't even overly well-known - even though the kick and the broken nose had made you pretty famous in the hallways for a few weeks -. Not only because of that, but also because of the gossip and intrusions, which always happened, and which was a little more serious than the growing popularity of your girlfriend.

***

"Excuse me, can I steal Shauna for a few minutes?"

The girls on the team were sitting in the stands, after an electrifying game that brought them closer and closer to entering nationals, and Shauna hadn't come to celebrate with you as usual. Usually, whenever the Yellowjackets won, she would come running into your arms in the stands, and then you would be making out in the locker room, hiding in the small bathroom stalls, trying to escape the concentration of girls in the place.

But this time, probably to keep up appearances and for the sake of euphoria, Shauna hadn't run to you, even though she knew you were there watching her and cheering for every pass. It wasn't taken personally, of course not, because you knew that Shauna and all the students were having chaotic exam weeks and their heads were full of more important things than relationships.

She smiled as soon as she saw you put an arm around her, and, faced with the incredibly provocative looks of the other girls, with expressions of someone who already knows everything, Shauna stood up, following you, her foot limping a little from the wear and tear of running so much around the field for ninety minutes.

You checked out less-observed places and found the closest tree, and then she pressed you against the trunk and, with her hands on your face, kissed you passionately, like she always did. The butterflies in your stomach were having a party, coming and going every time her cold lips touched yours.

"You were great, baby-"

You tried to speak, but she interrupted you by pressing the kiss further.

"Shut up, let me enjoy you for a little while, then you can talk to me all night, okay?", she whispered, kissing you again, before breaking the kiss after a few seconds, to breathe. You were trying to balance yourself and placed your hands on her shoulders, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you when the game ended, beautiful, my head was… a mess."

"It's okay, love. I'm proud of you for winning."

"The merit is not just mine, but I can live with it." She laughed, hugging you around your waist and resting her head on your shoulder. "So? What do you want for today? Movie night? Bar? Pizza?"

"It's your turn to choose…"

"Ah, right… I guess I have some great plans for us, then."

Her look was suggestive, and you pulled her a little closer just for the grace of kissing her again, amidst your smiles and laughter. This time, however, the kiss didn't last long. They were interrupted by Lottie calling for Shauna.

"See you on the way out, baby…", she murmured, before giving you one last peck and leaving, sweating, panting, leaving you with only the taste of mint, sweat and a silly smile, as you slid your body through the trunk, melted.

Honestly, just the two of you knowing what was going on there was the best thing you could have asked for. Because you were a good match, after all.

***

The topic of "Jeff's party" never became more talked about than weeks after the Yellowjackets won yet another title. You weren't that good friends with Jackie's boyfriend, and if you had to choose, you'd rather stay at home drinking and watching movies with Shauna, but there wasn't much choice. The Yellowjackets were a reserved seat in the venue, and there was no way to deny the invitation after so long.

Also because Shauna and Jackie were best friends, and you couldn't let your girlfriend make the mistake of hurting her best friend over a secret she could "never" tell her about. It wouldn't be that bad, despite the idea of ​​staying away from Shauna so as not to flag you up. It was an easy problem to solve.

The huge balcony of the Sadecki house. The luxurious bathrooms. The bathtub was big enough and the walls were even bigger to muffle the sounds of your laughter and kisses and moans. There would be no problem.

Except it was tempting to formulate an escape plan that actually worked.

And, of course, you couldn't escape the blandishments of Jackie Taylor, who, as Shauna's best friend, demanded to know why the two of you were always together, and why you were reluctant to come - and bringing the brunette along with this idea - and why you didn't know how to dance like her.

Well, you had never been close enough to Jackie to talk about interesting things with her, but now, at the full party and with the bunch of teenagers shouting over the loud music, it was easy to start a conversation. And it's not like she doesn't also have high marks in charisma to bring up the best topics and take you along with her.

But if you could stop to notice the looks on all the teenagers' faces dancing and drinking to Britney Spears, you'd be able to find Shauna's brown eyes fumming as she watched Jackie put her hand on your shoulders and make you sway to her rhythm.

It was as if you were harmless fucking prey living your ordinary life, and she was the hungry, desperate predator imagining imminent scenarios of how to hunt you down and take out all your flesh in one fell swoop.

Her eyes were covered by the red plastic cup that contained the liquid she needed to numb herself so she wouldn't see the rest of that humiliating scene and end up ruining Jeff's party, but things didn't get much better for you and Jackie because, at the very least, as you waited, the room started chanting "Hips Don't Lie", and you had to deal with the most intimidating scene of your entire life.

Jackie started holding onto you in the pre-chorus and, probably without meaning to, began to sway more deeply to the beat of the song, her arms around you, her lips firm on your ear near your neck, her cool breath making you shiver.

Shauna rolled her eyes, biting herself with jealousy and trying to control the urge to take Jackie away from you. Of course, half of all things were caused by drinking, but still, she was sure that you should pay for what it was doing to her.

Without thinking twice, Shauna simply stepped into the middle of the dance floor and wrapped her arms around you, taking Jackie out of the picture by taking you a little further away from her.

"What the fuck, Shauna?"

First name. Calling by nickname even with the sound turned up at the highest volume at a party full of people would not be helpful.

She glanced at you and took another sip, her brown eyes deep into you for a while.

"Shauna, what did I do wrong? We were just dancing!", you defended yourself, when you didn't get a response, and that didn't help either. The silence hovered and continued until it became torturous enough for you to want to leave, taking her by force, in a state that was a bit too worrying for both of you.

***

"I told you we could have stayed home, but you insisted on coming."

"And that doesn't mean I need to drag you everywhere I go, (Y\N)."

"We're going to fight, then, is that it?"

Taking your eyes off the road, crossing the street of her house - which you already knew by heart -, you faced Shauna, who snorted, crossed her arms and stared at the landscape in the passenger seat window, without responding. After seconds of silence and Johnny Cash's low voice filling the room, she whispered, whimpering.

"I'm sorry, baby, I don't know what came over me, it's just…", Shauna sighed, and whimpered again. "Damn, she was practically having sex with you in front of everyone, and I couldn't let my best friend take advantage of the person I'm dating like that!"

You sighed too, realizing that, despite her drunken state, Shauna still had a modicum of sanity to admit that every now and then she went overboard with excessive jealousy. Now, still, you could forgive her, and you did, sliding your free hand up her thigh, your eyes quickly turning to her face.

"I'm sorry, too, I should have watched myself more."

"Okay, anyway", the brunette whispered, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "Stop the car."

"What?"

"Do what I'm asking, (Y\N), stop the fucking car."

Her tone. You closed your eyes and felt your legs tremble as you swallowed down all your fear and tension.

Obligingly, you stopped the car on an empty road and, while the other cars and pedestrians did their best to ignore you, Shauna ripped off her seat belt and climbed into your seat, sitting between your legs with a mischievous smile. Her hands snaked around your neck and she pushed herself closer as she felt your hands trail down to her hips.

"Hm, I like that. Now… I'm going to show you how to bounce for someone for real."

Your eyes widened, surprised by Shauna's malicious response, but you didn't reprimand her, much less retort. And when she began to truly bounce on you, even in the awkward seat of the car, her breathing became labored the moment the first movement began. Your nails pressed into her thigh, and Shauna moaned in satisfaction, very softly, leaning down to kiss your neck and nibble a little, because she knew you loved it.

In fact, post-fight sex was a recurring thing between you.

Your nails went down a little, squeezing her ass as she kissed you, and then you repeated the same action, hearing even more of your girlfriend's satisfying moans. Thinking about how good it was to fuck her like this, without anyone knowing, without anyone noticing. It was the best feeling ever. You wouldn't trade it for anything.

And you knew that, deep down, neither did she.

Shauna soon left her fancy clothes thrown in the backseat, and you did the same. Shortly after, you jumped into the backseat and started doing what you regularly did, without shame, without fear. Your hands slid down to take off her bra, and she did the same thing to you with the intention of leaving you completely naked in front of her.

With kisses, nibbles, touches and silly hands, you enjoyed that night like no other, before leaving again and returning to your homes as if nothing had happened.

***

"Are you waiting for someone, baby?"

Shauna whispered, startling you, as you sat waiting for her in the locker room after another of the electrifying games in which the Yellowjackets had come out on top once again. It wasn't even new anymore now.

Her laugh felt good in your ear, but you didn't have time to appreciate what she could give you in return, because you were soon pushed into the bathroom stall again, and Shauna resumed the trail of kisses she was trying yesterday along your face and body, trying to remain as silent as possible so as not to alarm any of the girls.

You responded, but it was impossible to hold back, especially when she lowered her kisses to your neck and made you want to scream by holding back your moan. Shauna was loving it, on the other hand, and just kept pushing more and more, for the grace of being able to play with you and your sanity without fear of what would come.

Or at least, who would come…

"Shauna, would you have a tampon- WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

Jackie shouted, making you pull away from your girlfriend instantly, eyes rolling back and a sigh of almost relief escaping your lips. Shauna laughed mockingly and scratched her forehead, shaking her head.

"Can one of you explain this to me?", Jackie demanded and, instinctively, you noticed that the other girls were also with their little heads stretched towards the bathroom stall, trying to see something.

Shauna rushed in, pushing you out of the way and going to her best friend, her brown eyes downcast, dilated, the expression of someone who had just been defeated. "I've been fucking (Y\N) for a while now. That's basically it, if you haven't figured it out yet."

"Shauna!", you scolded her, even though you didn't know what to say to fix that mistake. Even more defeated, you nodded, pursing your lips. "Yeah, it is what it is, there's nothing more to say."

"You two better have a good explanation for all this, or I'm going to turn your heads into mobiles for my house one by one, I swear to God."

Jackie shouted, and, realizing that there was no longer any way to hide it from anyone - not even from yourselves -, you nodded, leaving the bathroom and going after the girl captain, trying to correct that mistake.

Well, now it was done. You had been discovered. And honestly, maybe being caught in the act just made this whole secret relationship thing even better.

You didn't even care much, to be honest. If you could still kiss and make out with Shauna as much as you wanted — even with her teammates whispering all over the place —that would be enough.

[kawaii-queen-kaiju]

Young and Alone

Part One!

She should’ve done more. She should’ve seen it sooner. Should’ve talked him out of it, should’ve convinced him it wasn’t worth it. But she’d been a coward, and hadn't wanted to tell him she knew about Robin. Hadn’t wanted to risk him telling Bruce she knew and dealing with Batman, but that was stupid, it was Jason. He didn’t snitch, and especially never on her. Even that one time she swiped a granola bar from the corner store, or accidentally set fire to Old Man Johnson’s clothesline.

And now he’s gone. She could’ve done something and she didn’t, and now she’d never see him again.

Riley sobbed, kneeling in front of his grave (why was it in a public cemetery? She was grateful in a way, but what the fuck, Bruce?!), desperately trying to keep a grasp on her powers. Bright light would be awfully noticeable in dreary old Gotham and she’d singe the grass beneath her.

She should’ve done more.

Bruce should’ve too. He lived under the same ridiculously large roof, imposed the expectations and finally, restriction that was the last straw for Jason. He should’ve done more to reach out. This all could’ve been avoided. It was partly her fault, but also his.

Her sniffling slowed, despair giving way to anger and… a very horrible idea… one that would be oh-so-satisfying to see through.

She never claimed to make smart decisions when she was mad.

-

Bruce was tired. He was angry, and depressed, and grieving, and feeling a million other things he couldn’t name, let alone want to deal with. The last thing he needed was a new threat to deal with.

He was immersed in reports of people being sent to the hospital, beaten half to death. All of them said the same thing. A bright flash of life, pain, then they woke up in the hospital. Everyone was attributing it to Batman, but he knew it wasn’t him. He didn’t knock his out that quick.

At best, he was dealing with a new vigilante, who probably took notice of the recent… lack in Batman’s restraint and decided to take things into their own hands. Going off of their own marks, that’s not it. At worst, it’s a new Rogue. Considering they’re not going after innocents or committing crimes other than assault and battery on criminals, that wasn’t it either.

He had time to think about this later, it was time for patrol.

-

She’s scared. Anyone would be when face to face with Batman, especially with his recent behaviour. Yet, Riley - Phoenix in costume - found herself grinning ferally. The height difference was definitely obvious. She stood at 5’3”, and Batman had to be at least six foot. The kevlar added bulk to his figure as well most likely, contrasting her leggings, skate knee and elbow pads and black bomber jacket with on-the-nose star and sun patches. She spent what little budget she allowed herself on the tinted goggles that acted as her identity protection, as well as keeping herself from getting blinded by her own abilities. She had to wear the goggles in lieu of her glasses, so everything was a bit fuzzy, but she was still more than capable of kicking ass.

“Who are you.”

It was less a question, and more of a demand. The man’s voice was low and gravelly. She crossed her arms, glaring up at him - not that he could see it. “Nunya.”

Batman wasn’t impressed. She could feel the aggravation rolling off him in waves. Good, but not enough. She wanted him roiling in anger. She wanted him to be at his limit, then to push him past it herself, to make him have no other option but to listen and see.

Well, if he didn’t kill her first. Chances of that were slim, but not zero. She wasn’t too worried. Worse comes to worst, her mother would hunt him down and kick his ass with a chancla, carrying on Riley’s mission in her stead.

She’d like to think she took him by surprise, not wavering in the face of his ‘Bat-glare’ as it was dubbed.

“What you’re doing is dangerous. You’re a child. Go home to your mother and father. This isn’t your place.”

She could hear the anger in his voice, depression shining through too. She felt just the slightest bit assuaged. At least Jason’s death hit him hard too. He wasn’t doing enough though. Had he found Jason’s killer? Did he make whoever it was suffer? He didn’t even hold a proper funeral for him… though it could’ve been private, so she tried not to let that contribute to the rage she felt toward the man. Not that it would’ve made much of a difference.

“Please. My father was a scumbag. And oh, I’m sorry, was Robin not a teenager? Silly me, I suppose I was wrong.” She let her voice drip in angry sarcasm, a sense of petty satisfaction hitting her as Batman visibly bristled.

“That was- different. It’s,” He stopped, showing a surprising amount of emotion for how much she’d heard of his stone-cold demeanor. “It’s why you're going home. Now.”

She scoffed, trying not to let her waning determination show. It was too late to be worried now. “I’m not a Robin, you can’t tell me what to do.”

Her statement seemed to surprise him. What, did he genuinely expect her to listen to what he told her to do? Hah, dumb bitch.

“What do you mean, a?” His voice lost some of its growl, something of a familiar voice seeping through. She frowned, turning her sentence back in her mind. ‘I’m not a Robin.’ She smirked. She caught Batman off guard.

“Come on. It was obvious the two weren’t the same guy. Also, I gotta say, not a good look for you, putting a preteen in a speedo, ya asshat.” She jeered, delighting in the choked sound he made.

“I didn’t want him to wear that, he insisted.” He dropped back into his growl, but the affront was still there. Riley… actually believed him. She’d seen clips of the first Robin on the news, and insisting on a banana hammock seemed entirely in character. Plus, Jason had… had pants. She had gotten distracted, but her goal was back at the forefront of her mind. “Whatever. He was still out doing this shit. And so was- the other one. You have no leg to stand on, hypocrite.”

Batman froze, and the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. He took a step toward her, and she stepped back, a spike of the fear she’d heard she was supposed to have in the face of the Bat shooting through her. The little patience and soft (as soft as Batman could be) demeanour he’d had was gone. She’d hit a sore spot, and she suddenly remembered the small-time criminals he’d put in the hospital, and the fact that she was technically a small-time criminal too. She’d counted on the fact that he’d hold back because of her age, but maybe pushing him to seeing red was a worse idea than she’d initially thought.

“Go. Home. Now.”

Despite her earlier attitude, she found herself clumsily racing back along the rooftops towards her apartment.

The next day when Bruce Wayne shows up at their door, she kicks herself for not making sure he wasn’t following her.

~

Part Three!

[angel-in-shibari]

a slave's collar is their most important accessory. not only does it show that they're owned, but with stylization and customization, it can also show who exactly owns them. Mistress prefers a nice rose gold band with floral engravings. to the unsuspecting, it looks like a fancy metal choker or extravagant piece of jewelry. but to those who do know, it's true purpose is undeniable.

the collar is equipped with the obvious essential features: gps, microphone, motion trackers, proximity sensors, and various devices that monitor my every movement. of course, all those features would be pretty pointless if Mistress didn't have a way to control me. that's why there are five electrodes placed equidistant from each other at various points along my neck. the electrodes can be controlled manually by a secure program that only Mistress has access to. all five can be fired individually, with 25 levels of intensity. 1 is a mild tickle. 5 is a painful shock, but relatively manageable as long as it's not prolonged. 10 is enough to bring me to my knees as I cry and beg for her to stop. she has only ever used 11 once, and I blacked out immediately. as for 25... don't worry about it

the collar features an incredibly secure and tamper-proof locking system. as it's locked, various circuits are armed. if the lock is broken and those circuits are broken... um... well. maybe you're thinking I can just wait for the battery to drain completely before taking it off without issue. think again, because there are two batteries installed that last quite a long time without a charge. the collar itself doesn't use all that much electricity, but in the case that one battery is completely drained, it will switch to the second battery. both batteries can last about 5 months each, so I'd have to go almost a year without charging for it to even reach depletion. also, once the final battery reaches its last 5% of charge, all the remaining electricity is released at once through the electrodes at level 25 until there is nothing left. basically, my collar isn't coming off with me alive.

I never have to worry about low batteries, however. Mistress has installed a number of radio frequency wireless charging devices around her mansion, meaning that as long as I am inside, my battery remains at almost full charge. the only time it has ever dipped below 99.7% is one afternoon when Mistress was extremely mad at her father and decided to take her anger out on me. whatever makes her happy makes me happy. I'm glad that my suffering is cathartic for her.

alongside the chargers, proximity detectors are placed on the outside walls. if I get to close to an exit, Mistress is automatically notified and a level 1 shock is admitted. if I get even closer, the shock is amplified dramatically. stepping outside is a level 25. the only way I'm ever allowed outside is if Mistress manually disables the 'electric fence' as she calls it. but when she does that, she has a separate system that acts in a similar way that shocks me more the further away from her I get.

you might think that all of this is unnecessary. all these systems and programs are what you might call "exceptionally overkill" or "horribly sadistic" or "just plain cruel". but the main reason they exist actually isn't to keep me in line. even if trying to take my collar off didn't kill me, I wouldn't ever dream of removing it. I would never go outside unless Mistress made me, even without the electric fence active. even the 25 levels of shock are a display of power. I'm small enough that level 13 would probably be enough to kill me.

the reason all these things exist is actually to show everyone that every single aspect of my life is completely under Mistress's control. I already know it's pointless to try and escape or fight back. I realized that before the collar was ever locked around my throat. all the ways in which Mistress has power over me are already obvious to me. because these precautions aren't for me. they're for you. to terrify you, and show you exactly what happens to people who wrong my Mistress. unless you want to end up like me, I strongly recommend you stay on her good side.