#not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing

[moki-dokie]

and as another note because there's more than a few comments about it: b99 is a good show and b99 is copaganda can and do coexist. b99 did quite a good job at bringing to light corruption, police brutality, bribery, and various other illegal things that are overwhelmingly common with police. it addressed real world issues and events in a way no other show, especially a cop one, would even come near. for that, i can applaud the show. especially since this was running before everything went almost exclusively to streaming services. it aired on your basic ass channel and had a wide audience because of that AND because andy samberg has a hell of a following from his SNL days. the people on the show are some genuinely good people and many of them have been loudly anti-cop on some issues. Good on them for that tbh. we can recognize all the great efforts that were made by both the show itself and the people behind it.

but it was still a pro-cop show. they still worked directly with NYPD for props and permissions and costuming and all manner of things. it still, at the end of the day, tells the audience that cops are good actually. flawed, but good. and because the show is so charming and silly, lots of people - especially younger people - could believe that. we can fault those people all we want for being unable to separate fiction from reality but it doesn't change the fact shows like that sway public opinion. it is, 1000000%, pro-cop propaganda.

this isn't anything new, either.

SVU and NCIS(altho more military propaganda, still deals with law enforcement) reigned supreme long before b99 throughout the 90s and 00s - both still have incredibly high ratings today. SVU especially had a huge impact on public opinion in both good and bad ways. Mariska hartigay has had a number of fans over the decades share with her that specifically because of the show, they reported a sexual crime - and that's great! we definitely want it to be more commonplace that these crimes get reported! but here's the flip-side to that: they report said crimes under the assumption that every department in america has not only a SVU, but detectives and police as thorough, caring, and with unlimited budget and time to work with them and that simply isn't true. i've heard quite a lot of people over the years share their own stories about being encouraged to go to police because of the show only to be outright dismissed, or sometimes even blamed. usually the best case scenario is that their case just sits for months or longer without any progress and is eventually closed for bullshit reason #85. that is the reality of things. and you know what? I grew up with SVU, and up until my teens that shaped my whole view on cops. because not everywhere in the world is new york city or los angeles where shitty police are part of every day life to know better. between them you have the rest of the country, which is made up of a bunch of small, quiet towns where you don't really have much interaction with police or maybe the town is small enough you know the entire police force on a first name basis, such as mine was.

and that's kind of the point. yes, it's great entertainment, but it comes with a very clear message that is so very easy to take to heart when that's your primary source (pre-internet especially) on what police are like. And golly gee, if these big ol new york city cops can be so caring and kind then surely that must be the case in the rest of the nation where it's less stressful, right? it's especially easy to remain ignorant into adulthood if you fit a particular demographic in which you will almost certainly never have a negative interaction with police. I guess fortunately for my wisdom and unfortunately for me and my family in every other way, we didn't check all the boxes, and we moved out of that tiny town, and i got to see first hand on multiple occasions that no, actually, police are fucking nothing like detectives benson and stabler. they're assholes. they're violent. they're racist. they're sexist. they're corrupt and unaccountable. they will break your mother's spine and ribs and wrist and give her a lifelong disability over a petty argument between her and your brother and never have repercussions for it. they will routinely pull your latino boyfriend over for having the audacity to drive while brown. they will make sexually harassing comments about your state of dress while you're pulled over in the middle of nowhere late at night and there is nothing you can do about it except pray words are the only thing that will be used against you.

i don't think it's particularly wrong to enjoy cop shows. entertainment is entertainment. especially if you're pirating the show and not funding anything about it, who really gives a single shit what stories you watch. shit, i fuckin love b99 and rewatch it pretty regularly. but if you do, i think you need to check yourself frequently that you aren't falling for the pro-cop messaging it's trying very hard to convince you about. you need to realize that these characters are fictional. the world they're written in exists only inside the screen even if it seems so very close to our own. you need to have the ability to acknowledge that the real-life equivalents of these characters are not and will never be on your side. the gay cop is still a cop. the black cop is still a cop. the woman cop is still a cop. your girlfriend cop is still a cop. and in our reality, until the police institution is torn down and rebuilt from the ground up, all cops are bastards.

this is the gay agenda and i LOVE it

[digitald0rk]

OVERSTIMULATING YOUR ALIEN BOYFRIEND !

pairing : mark grayson x gn!reader.

synopsis : what the title says 👅 stumbled upon this on twt and immediately thought of mark grayson.

warning : uhh porn with no plot :p

a/n : first post really nervous, i don't really write nsfw a lot so yeah mb if this is bad :( i just really had to get it out there LMFAO. i need him so bad it's actually insane. mark grayson get out my head challenge : impossible!

thinking about mark grayson being a good boy for you <3

jerking him off after a particularly stressful mission, his small moans turning into full blown whimpers and whines as he tries not to blow his load right then and there because he's a good boy, he knows better.

"baby please, please"

please just let him cum already! why are you being so mean to him, he's your sweet boy isn't he? :(

and when you give him the permission he'd been aching for, begging for, he blabbers small thank you's over and over in his whiny voice as he reaches that sweet relief, painting your hand in his sticky hot release.

he breathes heavily, eyes fluttering shut, practically panting as he tries to calm down from that intense orgasm- wait wait no, don't touch him there he's still all sensitive!

he groans, his eyes snapping open when he feels the familiar rhythm of your hand stroking his pretty cock :( he lets out embarrassingly loud noises, he can't do this again! but god it feels so good he can't help himself from bucking his hips up into your ruthless hand, wanting more.

"i can't, oh god i- i can't!" he whimpers, his body seemingly moving on it's own to chase that release again despite his words.

praise him, coo at him and he's all putty in your hands in an instant, willing to give you whatever you want, even if it renders him to an overstimulated pathetic mess, anything for his sweetheart.

his back arches off the bed, leaning into your touch, eyes all glossy as he loses himself in the pleasure you give him. another loud groan of your name rips from the back of his throat as he cums again.

he nearly cries when you don't stop jerking him off, are you trying to milk him dry? mindless babbles and sounds leave his pretty mouth as you use his previous load as lube, gently kissing his tears like you aren't the one overstimulating him.

he squirms and twitches under your touch, giving up on controlling his noises. the pleasure he feels bordering on painful but it only adds to the bliss, it feels so good he swears he sees stars, the only thing on his mind is you.

and when you pinch his nipples and tease them with your tongue, he knows he's done for.

his tears don't stop and neither do his moans of your name, just like your hand against his cock. he makes an effort to not scream your name when he cums for the third time in the span of such a short time by biting down on his bottom lip, he bites down so hard it draws blood. the muscles on his abdomen clenching and unclenching and you swear you've never seen a sight so beautiful.

your boyfriend looks so good like this, it's actually downright unfair how pretty he looks all blissed out like this.

the strongest man on the planet all pliant and needy under you is sure an ego boost.

and absolutely none of that helps with your own growing arousal.

his body writhes harder when you kiss him, everything feels so intense, even the kiss. with his brain turned almost all to mush he tries to sloppily kiss you back, all tongue and teeth accompanied by his soft whimpers which make you giggle.

and normally he'd laugh with you too if he wasn't all flushed and sweaty and acting like a dog in heat. his eyes still glossy as his chest heaves with the uneven breaths he takes.

and to no one's surprise he's still somewhat hard, viltrumite genes do wonders to your libido it seems.

"can you give me another one mark?" my god are you fucking crazy?! let him breathe!

but how can he deny his baby? especially when you look at him like that, but he's not even sure he can cum anymore and-

"please?" you bat your eyelashes at him.

and yeah, he's a goner.

it's gonna be a long night.

© digitald0rk 2025. please do not steal my work, thank u. interactions, like and reblogs are highly appreciated. tysm for reading and i hope you have a good day / night >:3 want more? click here ★

[minnie-movs]

"idc, you're still mine." pt. 2

synopsis. cuckolding with ex-husband!gojo gone wrong! ft. geto

content warnings. not proofread, f!reader, jealous gojo, cuckolding, oral f!receiving, munch!geto, voyeurism, gojo's kinda toxic, gojo jorks it while his bestie eats his girl out, satosugu kinda(?) i mean they're both in it, slight mentions of angst(?), creative liberty taken to depict gojo’s powers very non canon, uhhhh amateur writing and kind of rushed at the end, idk how to do warnings

a/n. hi there! this is my first post on here and i'm still figuring out the ropes, aesthetic- and writing-wise. wrote this a while ago as a pt. 2 to a dilf!gojo drabble of mine. i wasn't satisfied enough with pt. 1 to post it yet, but you won’t really need that context to read this. might post pt. 1 depending on how well this does or if anyone wants it. but i'm an amateur writer so this might be pretty bad, sowwy. apologies in advance for badly written smut :'(

huge thank you/credit to @screampied for the aesthetic inspo & tutorial and for inspiring my writing as well, luv their blog

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

If you were to tell Satoru Gojo that, one day, he’d somehow convince his ex-wife to let him watch while she fucked his best friend, he’d say, “Duh. Of course I did.”

Because Satoru Gojo is the smartest, most competent man on the planet. He knows what he wants and gets what he wants. Always.

Just a few hours ago, he and you, his ex-wife, had mutually decided to get back together. "Mutually" meaning Satoru had gotten on his hands and knees and begged for forgiveness for an hour and a half (plus the last three years) before you relented to a truce. A temporary truce from all the animosity and bitterness you held towards him, which was enough for him.

Your ex-husband then proceeded to make up for the last few years you weren't together by fucking the ever-loving shit out of you.

Sure, he came before he could get his sweats off and nearly did again when your breasts spilled out of that sinful red gown you were wearing, but he couldn't help it. He loves you so much, he's just so happy to have you back in his life. And so. fucking. HORNY.

And now that 1. he has his goddess of an ex-wife back with him and 2. she's agreed to fulfill a long-time fantasy of his with an ex-friend, whom he may or may not have also imagined fucking, Satoru feels like he's won the sex lottery or something.

Well, okay, you two weren't really back together, "temporary truce" or whatever, and you and his friend hadn't really agreed to the same thing--- you were under the impression that you and Satoru would fuck while Suguru watched, not Satoru watching and fucking his fist while Suguru was tongue-deep in your cunt. But details schmetails. Everybody was having a good time, right? Most of all, him--- the smartest man on the planet.

As he adjusted himself on his chair, he smirked. Satoru Gojo, the strongest *and* the smartest, he thought.

He sat on a ridiculously expensive velvet-lined chair, manspreading in front of his ridiculously expensive king-size four-poster, furiously fisting his cock, which if it had to be priced would also be, yup, ridiculously expensive. Oh, but the view... *that* was priceless. You, his darling ex-wife, with your pretty pussy on display, while his ex-best friend sat on his knees, lapping at your clit as he jerked his own cock.

Satoru couldn't be more rock hard. His dick was certifiably diamond as he ran his hand along his throbbing veins, his thumb teasingly rubbing his angry, red tip. Every buttery moan that slipped from his ex-wife's lips, every grunt and twitch of Suguru's hips caused another tiny splurt of precum to ooze from Satoru's cockhole. His cerulean eyes widened as he watched you reach for Suguru's long locks, pulling the brunette deeper into your pussy with a forceful tug and practically suffocating him.

The action made your ex-husband let out a weak groan.

Oh fuckkkk. And he thinks he just got harder.

Man, he knew he was genius for coming up with this. The smartest, indeed.

Suguru moaned into your pussy, lewd squelches emanating from below with each suckle and lick. "Fuck, you taste so good, angel..." One hand on his cock, the other held you down as you writhed under him, eliciting a dark chuckle from the long-haired sorcerer, "That's right, arch your back for me. Juuust like that. Good girl."

Your weak little pants of "Ah! Suguru!" and "More, Suguru!" only served to stroke his ego as he brought the hand that was on his cock to slap your ravaged clit intermittently.

Plap! Plap! Plap! Each little strike had you twitching and whining, much to his amusement. "Hah- God, you sound like such a slut. *suck* This selfish pussy's worse than you, *spit* wetter than a waterfall and so eager for cock. Mngh- Who knew an angel like you could be so. Thwack! fucking. Thwack! Nasty. THWACK! " He punctuated each word with a harsher smack to your poor, abused clit.

Suguru moved the hand holding you down to dip two long fingers into your sopping heat, scissoring them while he devoured you. "So wet on my tongue, so tight around my fingers." Every word sent you reeling as you danced on his tongue, his large hand ceasing its assault on your clit to cup the curve of your ass. His fingers delved deeper into your pussy, curving in a come-hither motion to massage against your spongy g-spot. You yelp, your fingers in his hair gripped painfully to keep yourself sane.

Fuck, Suguru *thinks* he could cum hands-free from just this.

And fuuuck, Satoru just might cum, no matter what the fuck you do.

He pushed himself and gripped his base to keep from shamefully splattering cum like some horny teen. Satoru Gojo will not be embarrassed like this. He will NOT cum for the fifth time in under an hour since this all started like a dog in heat. He will not embarrass himself in front of his ex-wife after he just got you back, not really. He's the strongest. He's the smartest! And he definitely has more endurance and stamina than this, please believe him.

So, he'll resort to making smartass comments because he's going to cum soon, no, he's not affected at all.

"Hngh-" he groaned, slowing his strokes on his dick, and chuckled breathily, "You've sure got a mouth on you, Suguru. You're usually so mmgh- formal and polite. One taste of my wife's pussy and you lose composure, my friend?"

"Ex-wife," you hissed back, mid-moan, "Temporary ngh- truce."

"Ex-friend," Suguru growled, his tongue pausing briefly. "You're still a fucking dick.

"And shut the fuck up," you two said in unison.

Satoru rolled his eyes as you two snapped at him. This genius suggestion was his anyway, everyone was gonna get an orgasm out of this because of him, and not a "thank you" to be heard. Hmph. How ungrateful.

Instead, he focused on Satoru Jr., his not-so-little friend. The white-maned sorcerer let one hand glide along his length, occasionally coming down to tease his balls, which were heavy and eager to spurt cum. He kept a torturous pace, despite needing to cum so fucking badly, and purposefully prolonged his orgasm, wanting to cum at the same time when you'd cum in Suguru's mouth.

You moaned, clit throbbing under Suguru's touch, "F-fuck! Right there!" Suguru's tongue worked faster to bring you to the edge, your juices painting his face, "Mnah- Yes, ma'am. Gonna slurp this pussy up so good, angel. Mmm- Just how you like."

Satoru looked on at the two of you, shutting the fuck up as ordered but his mind was as loud as ever.

Yeah, yeaaahhh. Suck on her pussy good, Suguru. Mmmh, yeah, kiss around her clit, just like that, she fuckin' loves that shit.

Your thighs started to shudder, signaling your impending orgasm. "Ah, S-Suguru! 'm c-close!" Suguru crooned back at you, "Yeah, angel? *suck* Gonna cum for me, *lick* sweet girl?"

S-shit, 'm close t-too. Can't f-fucking hold- ngh- any longer- fuck-

You nodded quickly, your body heating up as the coil in your stomach was pulled tight, "Ah- yes! F-feels so g-good! Ongh-"

Ah- she looks- fuck, so fucking hot, fuck fuck fuck!

A cocky grin painted Suguru's mouth as he started to maneuver himself up onto the bed, holding your thighs close to him so he could still lap at you, "Yeah? Ohhh Say my fucking name, angel.*spit* Who's making you feel this good? *SUCK* Who's gonna fuck you good tonight?"

Ngh, f-fuck- wait what-

His hand staggers.

Your mind was going fuzzy, focusing on only the pleasure as the words tumbled out of you, “Y-you are, Suguru! God, m-making me feel soooo gooood!”

Ah- wait, what did he just say-

Suguru growled, giving your clit a last nibble before letting his fingers take over, “I can’t believe I get to fuck your pretty pussy tonight. Thank you, angel.”

Wait- hold on- that’s not what we discuss- uh y-yellow- guys, yellow-

You mewled, your words devolving into nearly incoherent babbles at this point, “Mnh! Mmh! Yes, f-f-fuck me! Wan’ you- only you to f-fuck me-! F-finally!”

Finally? ok, the fuck- red- RED-

Suguru licked his lips clean of your slick and smirked, his digits working at your pulsing nub, “Who does this pussy belong to, huh? Whose is it? Fucking say it.”

Satoru’s unbelieving ears perked up at that, his hand now completely still on his leaking cock. The remnants of pleasure were present but were mere embers compared to the blaze from before. His eyes shot to you, nervously awaiting your response.

RED. RED. RED RED RED RED RED-

Mmh no- fuck- she fucking wouldn’t-

The thought was interrupted by your pleasure-drunk whine, “You, Suguru! My pussy belongs to you! Only you!”

Satoru’s face dropped, his blue eyes dangerously darkened as the muscles in his jaw clenched. Oh,

Hell.

Fucking.

NO.

Suguru was moving his cock towards your pussy, wanting to shove it in last moment, wanting you to cum just as he put it in.

Pearly tears lined your eyes that were rolling back into your head, your vision going white with pleasure.

There… there… nearly there… The white light got bigger… or was it blue? purple maybe? Closer… closer… right there and—

***BOOM!!!***

You felt a rush of wind as your orgasm was rudely ripped from you. Suddenly, your ex-husband’s penthouse suite felt a lot more breezier than you remembered.

Your eyes fluttered open, hazily taking in your surroundings before landing on a red-faced, heavily breathing Satoru. He was standing at the foot of the bed, his entire body tense and straight.

He had his thumb, index, and middle finger pointed outwards like he’d just…

Your eyes widened, head snapping to the source of the wind to see that the entire left wall of the bedroom was gone… and so was Suguru.

Your eyes snapped to your ex-husband as you sputtered, “Did you just Hollow Purple your best friend?!”

“Ex-best friend,” Satoru cleared his throat and cracked his neck, “And no, I just gave him a gentle nudge out the door.”

Your jaw tightened, “Out the window, you mean.”

“Same thing—“

“You could’ve leveled the city, you could’ve killed him—“

“It was hardly 10 percent and targeted, he can handle it and so can the city—“

“Satoru—“

“I’m sure he’s still flying… or falling, either one—“

“Satoru—“

“First, he dates my wife then tries to fuck her? Yeah, right—“

“Satoru—“

“Yeah, yeah, still ex-wife. I know-“

“SATORU-“

“FUCK, WHAT?”

“His clothes. You sent the man flying out the window, butt-naked.”

“…”

“And I’d do it again.”

You rolled your eyes hard, “You don’t get to say that- Seriously, what the hell? You asked him to come over!”

Ignoring your scolding, Satoru crawled onto the bed and buried his face in your chest. He let out a low whine, looking up at you from between your breasts like a pouting child would, “Your pussy belongs to me, right?”

You blinked, a groan of realization escaping you. Fucking hell, your ex-husband was such a damn baby. You huffed, reasonably upset that you didn’t get to cum, all because of your ex-husband’s jealousy over something he wanted in the first fucking place.

“Satoru Gojo, you’re the dumbest man on this planet.”

His lips curved into a smirk before he’s suddenly flipped you over on the bed. His hand landed on your ass with a resounding smack! and you felt him lining his cock at your entrance. Just as he was about to push in, he leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Then let me hit you with that dumb dick.”

[whosmariaaa]

— part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4 !

college! sukuna spend that same night in his bed, searching for your instagram. your account was a hard find. it took him 60 minutes of his life to even find one of your friends, who had coincidentally tagged you in their recent photo dump. in that same photo dump was a cute picture of you and your friend. you were glowing, a pretty smile on your face, and sukuna immediately took a screenshot to save for himself.

then, he went to your account. you hadn’t posted a single thing, and your profile picture was black. he had spend 30 minutes searching for basically nothing. but, he still followed you.

the notification “r.sukuna is now following you” popped up on your screen around 1 AM. how the hell did this guy find you? you were genuinely confused.

you didn’t have any classes with him the next day, so you came up to him at lunch. not caring about the girl placed in his lap, kissing his neck. sukuna looked awfully disinterested in her.

“did you do your part of the project?” you asked suspiciously. he turned his head to you, and rudely pushed the girl off before getting on his feet. the girl looked at him in shock, and then shot you a glare, as if you stole her man. that girl could definitely have him, for all you care.

“nah, but you don’t mind, do you?” sukuna replied condescendingly, “besides, it’s only due in three weeks.”

you simply sighed. you can not with this man. he was purposely getting on every single one of your nerves. “it’s due in three weeks because it’s a big project half our grade, you massive dick,” you scowled. a stupid smirk made a way on his face.

“so? you’re smart, right? you’ll figure it out,” he responded.

his comment somehow doubled your irritation. “you’re either helping with this, or i’m asking the professor to kick you out. take a pick,” you hissed back. then, his smirk disappeared ever so slightly.

“you’re really a fucking bitch about this, y/n,” sukuna huffed. he broadened his shoulders slightly, narrowing his eyes in irritation. you rolled your eyes back at him, “go cry about it. take a fucking pick.”

he watched you a for a few moments in silence as he straightened his back slightly, seeming even taller. he looked threatening, sure, but you were too pissed off to care.

“…fine, but don’t expect me give a shit about it,” he decided. another beat of silence, of the both of you glaring at each other. you decided now would be a good time to mention him suddenly following you, since the silence was getting a little too intense for your liking.

“oh yeah, why did you follow me on instagram? how’d you even find me?” you asked.

his smirk returned, and he raised his eyebrows in amusement. “just came across your account. am i not allowed to, sweetheart?” he taunted. he spend an hour looking for it, but you didn’t need to know that. you just scoffed, “weirdo.” and then walked off, making sure to shove him with your shoulder.

sukuna stared at you until you left through the doors of the cafeteria. the girl that was in his lap before, got up from her seat. “who was that?” she asked in irritation. he returned his eyes to her, but then a disgusted scowl added to his expression.

“mind your own fucking business, you bitch. and why don’t you get the fuck out of here while you’re at it?” he snarled. the girl flinched slightly at his harsh words, but then muttered something under her breath before getting up and leaving.

“damn, what crawled up your ass and died?” toji asked. sukuna stared at him, his expression dangerous.

“i think he’s still down bad for that girl. what was her name? y/n?” gojo laughed, “y’know what, if you don’t get with her, i will,” he added tauntingly. for some reason, him saying that made sukuna even more pissed off than before. why the hell was he suddenly in his business? you were off-limits, he had made that very clear before.

“watch your fucking mouth, gojo. i won’t hesitate to make an end to your pathetic life,” sukuna threatened.

“man, you’re pussy whipped. what’d she do to make you all in love like this?” gojo teased. sukuna just scoffed and sat down again, ignoring his infuriating friends while in thought.

yeah, what did you even do?

──★˙🍓̟!! hi guys, i’m so sorry i’m still figuring out tumblr, but maybe in the future i’ll be doing a taglist!! ☺️ and @elizabeth-von-winken-universe in my inbox, yes i’ll definitely be doing more parts for sukuna, thank you sm!!! and for the other person in my inbox, i love you to death may God bless u too and keep u and ur family safe💗

[checkeredflagggs]

Secret Sweethearts

Pairing: pierre gasly x leclerc!reader

summary: las vegas was a lot more exciting then people think

a/n: my first pierre piece! This was requested so I hope you guys like it!!

a/n2: I love Kika but she had to go 😭😭

a/n3: Vegas is the race that keeps on giving

Masterlist | Taglist

Bluesky

user1: no no no you’re on to something

user2: thank god someone else noticed this! I thought for sure after he and Kika split he’d have a couple more months of wild parties…

↳user3: same! Instead he had like a month of pr problems then it went all silent…

↳user2: I don’t know what I miss most — Kika’s Pierre or Party Pierre…

↳user3: hmmm I’m gonna go party pierre cause he lost his T-shirt consistently

↳user2: good point good point

user4: is this a safe place? Can I say something?

↳user5: nope!

↳user6: do it anyway!

↳user4: ummm fuck you both??

↳user6: what did I do!?

user7: user4 was your thought the fact that the after party of George’s race win and Max’s WDC win in Vegas was the last of Pierre’s wild days?

↳user4: it absolutely was

↳user8: ok grandmas. Let’s get you back to your beds

↳user9: no no no let them cook

user10: ok but let’s say user4 and user7 are right?? Bets on the reason why?

↳user11: I’m guessing that he got his socials taken away — can’t have too bad of an image…

↳user12: I mean it’s Vegas…I’m guessing he got married

↳user13: A VEGAS WEDDING?

↳user14: not who I thought would have a Vegas wedding…

↳user13: right?? I always had money on Lando or Charles…

↳user14: same!

↳user11: ok but we don’t know that’s the reason why he changed!

↳user13: let’s be real this makes more sense…

↳user12: it does! If he had his socials taken away for pr, we probably would have seen him on other drivers posts but it’s been a near complete blackout since Vegas!

Private Messages, the Gasly’s and their mothers

Private Messages, y/n and Pascale

y/n_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, and 193,102 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl, pascale.leclerc

y/n_leclerc: Christmas time! Featuring the best ugly Christmas sweaters you’ve ever seen! Mine won — both the worst sweater and the itchiest!

view all comments

user15: ugly sweater or not, you’re still the prettiest!

user16: oh to be y/n leclerc…

maxverstappen1: so how many of those presents are yours?

↳y/n_leclerc: I don’t know what you mean…

↳charles_leclerc: I don’t like your tone…

↳arthur_leclerc: nearly all of them…

↳charles_leclerc: arthur!

↳y/n_leclerc: 🥺

↳arthur_leclerc: as it should be! liked by charles_leclerc, lorenzotl, pascale.leclerc, pierregasly

pierregasly: Joyeux Noel!

↳y/n_leclerc: Merci Pierre!

carlossainz55: Feliz Navidad!

↳y/n_leclerc: Merci!

oscarpiastri: Merry Christmas

↳y/n_leclerc: thank you nephew!

↳oscarpiastri: I am 3 years older than you…

↳y/n_leclerc: and yet…

Private Messages, Pascale and y/n

y/n_leclerc

liked by user, pierregasly, maxverstappen1, and 824,294 others

y/n_leclerc: just some quiet days spent with you, my love 🩷

view all comments

charles_leclerc: What is this?

charles_leclerc: Who is this?

charles_leclerc: What is happening?

charles_leclerc: Answer your phone y/n!

↳user17: oh you know it’s a serious thing when he comments multiple times AND uses correct punctuation and capitalization…

user18: is this y/n leclerc…soft launching…a boyfriend??

↳charles_leclerc: Non!

↳arthur_leclerc: she hasn’t introduced him to us yet so he doesn’t exist and isn’t dating our baby sister!

↳user18: that is absolutely not how it works btw

↳charles_leclerc: yes it is

↳charles_leclerc: Also y/n_leclerc answer your phone!

user19: ok I know what everyone is gonna think but if I may…

↳user20: no. I refuse to believe you again!

↳charles_leclerc: What?

↳user20: don’t listen to her she’s a conspiracy theorist

↳user19: who has frequently been right!

↳charles_leclerc: What do you know?

↳user19: know? Nothing actually liked by y/n_leclerc

arthur_leclerc: Belle petit sœur, qui est cet homme et pourquoi vous impose-t-il les mains? Beautiful little sister, who is that man and why is he laying hands on you?

↳y/n_leclerc: ☺️☺️

↳arthur_leclerc: THATS NOT GONNA WORK THIS TIME!! WHO IS HE??

↳y/n_leclerc: 🥺🥺 why are you yelling at me?

↳charles_leclerc: Arthur stop yelling at y/n! And y/n, ma belle petit sœur, please answer me — who is that man?

pierregasly: little Leclerc has a man now?

↳charles_leclerc: No!

↳y/n_leclerc: yes 🥰🥰

↳pierregasly: he treat you well?

↳charles_leclerc: He doesn’t exist!

↳y/n_leclerc: Pierre, he does…

↳charles_leclerc: …Not! Exist!

user21: I did not have baby Leclerc giving her brothers heart attacks on my bingo card for this year?

↳user22: right? I thought it was going to be the car…

↳user21: oh big same

oscarpiastri: congratulations y/n!

↳charles_leclerc: NON!

↳y/n_leclerc: thanks nephew

↳charles_leclerc: Answer you’re phone please y/n!

user23: ok but does the pink heart mean anything?

↳user24: it absolutely has too… she’s a Ferrari girl to her core, it’s been red her entire life. To switch now?

Bluesky

user25: I’d say you’re crazy and to tell me more!

↳user26: well we know that the Las Vegas GP after party was Pierre’s last public party

↳user27: he has been suspiciously quiet lately

↳user26: right?

user28: wait was y/n in Vegas? I didn’t think she traveled too much for the races?

↳user29: she was! Charles mentioned it during one of the interviews — she just turned 21 and wanted to celebrate in Vegas

↳user30: ok that’s so girlboss slay of her?

↳user29: I guess?? I’m too old to know what those words mean

user31: so we know that Pierre and y/n were in the same city (known for its drunk marriages), Pierre dnfed pretty early on in the race…

↳user32: what are we thinking? That she slipped away from Ferrari to alpine?

↳user31: I mean I would? Better to hang out with someone I know to finish watching the race…

user33: I think it was Alex or Lando? Who posted that there was going to be a big after party — to celebrate both George’s race win and Max’s WDC win

↳user34: it was Alex! And he was also the one that had photos of Pierre cuddling up with some girl

↳user35: Charles posted a picture of the view from his hotel room very early in the night — everyone kinda took it to mean he left the party early cause he was mad at the race

user36: so we have them in the same location, more than likely at the same party, almost certainly with Charles leaving early…

↳user37: in a city known for drunken decisions?

secretly/n: wow you guys are through

user38: ok but what’s the evidence after Vegas? Like divorce exists…

↳user39: vibes mostly…

↳user40: and the pink heart!

↳user38: vibes and a pink heart??

↳user39: the pink heart! She’s always used a red heart (Ferrari forever!!) but when she finally soft launches a man it’s with a pink heart?? Pink like alpine??

f1gossip

liked by user, user, secretly/n and 824,193 others

tagged: y/n_leclerc, pierregasly

f1gossip: with the increased interest in Pierre’s newly quiet public life and the subject of y/n’s soft launch, here comes another twist! Recent pictures from Pierre’s social show the newest Gasly, Simba — while y/n’s latest story has an identical pup getting cozy with her! Could this be the confirmation we’ve all been waiting for?

view all comments

user41: awwwweeee 🥹🥹🥹 shared custody

↳user42: ok but Pierre got simba right after Vegas right?

↳user41: …oh my god you’re right!! They got a dog together!!!

↳user42: they got a dog together 🤗🤗

user43: I’m going to laugh when it’s revealed that they aren’t together…

↳user44: I’m gonna laugh when you release you’re wrong!

user49: ok but simba and the helmets is so adorable ☺️

↳user50: yes!

user51: I don’t know who I’m more jealous of…Pierre, y/n, or simba…

↳user52: it’s a big choice…

secretly/n: damn you guys are fast to put the pieces together…

pierregasly has posted a story, y/n_leclerc has posted a story

[dinner date][my valentine 🩷]

user54 replied proof of relationship!

user55 replied exactly what we’ve been waiting for!

user56 replied are you with y/n right now??

y/n_leclerc replied looking good…and the pizza looks delicious too

↳pierregasly 😆

↳pierregasly right back at you, jolie fille

↳y/n_leclerc 😘💋🩷🩷

charles_leclerc replied ohh? A new love?

↳pierregasly something like that yes…

↳charles_leclerc and you haven’t said a word *smh*

↳pierregasly not yet

user57 replied IS THAT PIERRE

user58 replied omg its happening!!

user59 replied YOURE MATCHING WITH PIERRE YES!!

charles_leclerc replied what’s happening right now? Are you at Pierre’s??

↳y/n_leclerc oh my god leave me alone!

↳y/n_leclerc I’m with my MAN

↳charles_leclerc who doesn’t exist!!

↳y/n_leclerc that’s what you think!

Private Messages, Charles and y/n

Private Messages, Pierre and y/n

y/n_leclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, pierregasly, and 2,183,193 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, pierregasly, jackdoohan, maxverstappen1, alex_albon, liamlawson30, yukitsunoda0511, isackhadjar

y/n_leclerc: got to go to this cool event, met some weird people, and crashed a redbull family reunion

view all comments

user60: oh god that is pretty much the redbull family isn’t it??

↳user61: so much trauma all in one photo…

pierregasly: weird people??

↳y/n_leclerc: yes! where did all your hair go???

↳user62: she’s speaking for all of us!

oscarpiastri: I see how it is…you spend a couple of hours with your aunt and she doesn’t even acknowledge you…

↳y/n_leclerc: I’m so sorry dearest nephew. How ever could you forgive me?

↳oscarpiastri: I could do with some dog cuddles?

↳y/n_leclerc: sure!

↳charles_leclerc: stop giving away leo!

↳y/n_leclerc: leo?

↳y/n_leclerc: no! I’ll not be doing that

↳user62: she forgot about her nephew Leo and was offering time with simba… liked by secretly/n

alex_albon: A redbull family photo and yet Charles is right in the middle…

↳y/n_leclerc: come on we all know he and max are attached at the hip

↳alex_albon: true true

↳maxverstappen1: what are you talking about?

↳y/n_leclerc: don’t worry about it Yapstappen liked by alex_albon, charles_leclerc

user63: ok girl we see you posting the brother and the boyfriend

↳charles_leclerc: Wait what?? What are you talking about? Who???

↳y/n_leclerc: apparently no one because “he doesn’t exist”

↳charles_leclerc: good you’re learning

↳y/n_leclerc: how do I dislike a post

user64: ok but did anyone else catch the looks those 2 were sharing??

↳user65: no! They were legit gazing into each others eyes the entire night

↳user66: are we talking y/n and her man or Charles and his?

↳user65: yes

y/n_leclerc

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 829,103 others

tagged: pierregasly

y/n_leclerc: posting my man while Charles is still busy

view all comments

user67: A HARD LAUNCH?? IN THE MIDDLE OF MY DAY??

user68: good lord what is happening right??

pierregasly: Je t'aime aussi, belle fille. I love you too, beautiful girl

↳y/n_leclerc: Vous êtes de loin la meilleure décision que j'aie jamais prise. You are by far the best decision I ever made

maxverstappen1: he’s gonna go ballistic

↳y/n_leclerc: haha yeah

↳maxverstappen1: you’re a chaotic little thing aren’t you…

↳y/n_leclerc: 🤣🤣

oscarpiastri: Hello. What is this?

↳y/n_leclerc: I believe the youths call it a hard launch?

↳user69: girl you are one of the youths

charles_leclerc: WHAT KS THIS?!?

charles_leclerc: ABSOLUTELY NOT

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2 and 790,469 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, pierregasly

f1gossip: Charles before he saw his sisters post and Charles after her saw his sister post during pre-season testing here in Bahrain

view all comments

user70: you could see the rage grow on his face…

↳user71: oh man could you…I could feel it from here and I’m not even in the same hemisphere

user72: he went through all 5 stages of grief, invented a view new ones, then settled on pure rage

user73: I’m so glad Pierre wasn’t on the track at the same time as Charles…

↳user74: right?

↳user75: I’m sure Pierre is feeling the same

Private Messages, the Leclerc Siblings

Private Messages, Pierre and Charles

f1gossip

liked by user, user, user, and 2,824,348 others

tagged: pierregasly, y/n_gasly

f1gossip: things got heated today during the Australian press conference where Pierre defended his WIFE??

view all comments

user76: I’m so…WHAT

↳user77: speaking for all of us right now…

user78: that interviewer was out of line

↳user79: he’s so lucky that Charles wasn’t there…

↳user80: ok but did you see Max and Oscar? Cause they looked like they wanted to hunt him for sport too

user81: that type of language has no use in today’s questions

↳user82: I’m with the drivers — how fucking dare that sexist piece of shit ask Pierre those questions???

↳user83: if anyone of them had kept at the man I wouldn’t have said anything

↳user84: he had it coming

user85: ok but are we all skipping over the fact THAT PIERRE AND Y/N GOT MARRIED???

↳y/n_gasly: that’s old news I’m afraid

↳user86: Wait? What? Why? When?

↳y/n_gasly: Marriage. Because I love him. Las Vegas!

↳user86: you changed your handle!

user87: this gonna go down in the history books — where were you when you found out that y/n is now a gasly…

↳charles_leclerc: SHES A WHAT NOW??

↳user87: you didn’t know yet?

↳charles_leclerc: KNOW WHAT??

↳user87: man I hate to burst your bubble…

↳charles_leclerc: 😤🤬

Private Messages, the Leclercs and the Gaslys

f1 posted a story, y/n_gasly posted a story

[All’s well now!][My husband and I 🩷]

user88 replied awww the in-laws getting along…

user89 replied my pookies

y/n_gasly replied I better not have to fight my brother for my husband now…

↳f1 we can make no promises…

user90 replied we love to see this!

charles_leclerc replied only temporarily…

pierregasly replied I love you, Lumière de ma vie

↳y/n_gasly I love you too, mon œuf

↳pierregasly 🙄🙄

charles_leclerc replied ABSOLUTELY NOT

arthur_leclerc replied TELL HIM TO GET HIS HANDS OFF YOU

lorenzotl replied how much are they yelling at you?

↳y/n_gasly ehhh I’m mostly ignoring my phone right now 😂😂

↳y/n_gasly they’ll get over it…eventually

Taglist

@anamiad00msday @suns3treading @daniskywalkersolo @awritingtree @justheretoreadthxxs @coral7161 @lost4lyrics @mastermindbaby @freyathehuntress @angelluv16 @nichmeddar @mxm47max @justaf1girl @a-beaverhausen @tallrock35 @elizamoe133 @imlonelydontsendhelp @jessica3478 @il0vereadingstuff @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt @widow-cevans @1-of-my-many-obsessions @charlesgirl16 @elliegray2803 @anunstablefangirl

[writeriguess]

A request/idea.

No one really dives into Bakugo's heart injury after the war. What happens when femreader (who he absolutely has a crush on) visits him in the hospital after the war, and he's like, 'oh shit this is gonna be bad for my heart' .

Fragile Heart

The beeping of the heart monitor was steady, rhythmic. Annoying as hell.

Bakugo scowled at the ceiling, arms crossed over his bandaged chest. He hated hospitals. Hated the sterile smell, the way everything felt too clean, too controlled. Hated how weak he felt lying in this damn bed when he should be out there, moving, training, doing something.

His heart was still fucked up.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew the damage he took during the war wasn’t just a flesh wound. The healers had worked on him for hours, murmuring about how close it had been, how the damage to his heart could have been fatal if they hadn’t acted fast. But he was here. Alive. Stronger than whatever bullshit tried to take him out.

That should’ve been enough.

And then you walked in.

Bakugo felt it before he even saw you—his pulse spiking, the monitor betraying him before his brain could even register why. His head snapped toward the door, and there you were, standing in the doorway like you weren’t about to send his already unstable heart into another cardiac episode.

Oh, fuck.

This was gonna be bad for his heart.

You stepped inside cautiously, eyes scanning over him like you were assessing the damage. Your usual confident demeanor softened just slightly, lips pressing together like you wanted to say something but weren’t sure where to start.

He suddenly felt too exposed, sitting in a hospital gown, bandages peeking out from under the fabric, heart monitor tattling on his every reaction.

"Bakugo," you said softly. "Hey."

His throat went dry.

"Hey," he muttered back, forcing himself to sound normal. Calm. Not like he was freaking the hell out because you were here.

You walked closer, stopping at the edge of his bed. “How’re you feeling?”

He scoffed. “Like shit.”

A breathy laugh escaped you, and he nearly died on the spot. His fingers twitched where they rested on the blanket, resisting the urge to grip the sheets just to ground himself.

“You scared the hell out of us, you know,” you said, voice quieter now. “They weren’t sure if you were gonna make it.”

“Tch. I ain’t that easy to kill.”

Your lips quirked into a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Still. Don’t do that again.”

And there it was—that thing in your voice, the raw emotion that made something squeeze tight in his chest. Not the injury. Not the pain. Just you.

His heart monitor betrayed him again, beeping a little faster.

You noticed. Of course you did. Your eyes flickered to the machine, then back to him, eyebrows raising slightly. “You good?”

No. Absolutely fucking not.

His jaw clenched. “Yeah. Just—stupid machine’s sensitive.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, like you didn’t quite believe him, but you let it slide. Instead, you reached out, fingers hovering over his wrist before making contact. A soft touch. Warm. Grounding.

His heart slammed against his ribs, and the monitor nearly gave him away again.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay still, to not react. But you were touching him, your fingers resting lightly against his skin, and that was infinitely worse than anything the battlefield had thrown at him.

“You’re really okay?” you asked again, quieter this time.

Bakugo wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he turned his palm upward, letting your fingers settle fully against his. His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper.

“I will be.”

You squeezed his hand, just once. A promise.

And somehow, despite the mess he was in—despite the weakness, the pain, the stupid hospital bed—Bakugo realized something.

Maybe, just maybe, his heart wasn’t as broken as he thought.

[https-bakugo]

"Was I just the fucking NOTES guy to you??" Part Three / (k.bakugo x GN! Reader) (Written)

Bakugo was a smart man.

He knew things that others didn't - and naturally, he caught onto things that others couldn't.

Bakugo was a man who used what he knew and substituted what he didn't. He was resourceful, which means he was useful and that meant he was needed.

He was intelligent, gifted and all the different kinds of things that made people jealous of his inevitable success.

He grew up with a quirk. A powerful quirk. He was told that from a young age, Katsuki Bakugo would grow up to be something incredible. To be one of the most influential heroes the world has ever seen.

-

Bakugo had everything he had ever wanted handed to him. Here he was, twenty five, and one of the greatest heroes Japan had ever seen.

And yet, despite holding the world in the palms of his hands. It wasn’t enough. He needed something more. 

You. 

His highschool love. The one thing that slipped through his fingers. It was nine years ago. 

Nine long, excruciating years.

Though he was too late. He figured out all your cute and cheesy hints, too late - made all the right plans, too late - reached for your longing hand, too late - ached for your touch - dreamt of your lips sliding against his own… simply too late.

He had tried to shoot his shot back then but he was much too late.

But it had been nine years.

Nine whole years since he saw you. And according to Deku, five years since the both of you had broken up.

Surely now, surely now he had his chance. His opening. It was obvious he was still pining for you. 

His heart was yours.

He knew that.

Kirishima knew that.

Deku knew that.

You, knew that.

You knew.

Which is how he ended up finding himself, his lips pressed against yours - just like how a younger Katsuki only dreamt of doing - as he pressed you up against his bedroom wall. 

How did he manage to get himself stuck in this situation? 

He didn't remember.

And he didn’t give a fuck. He didn’t care. It really didn't matter either.

His friends were throwing a party - that’s right. Something about celebrating his “heroic success” or whatever.

Something about inviting his old classmates.

Something about inviting you.

Something about seeing you again, standing there like you were the only person in the room.

It was like the rest of the world melted into nothing as Katsuki stared at you. He didn't realise how much more... how much more you were.

It wasn't more in a bad way.

Not at all.

More. You were just so much. More. He could barely think - let alone place his messed up, jumbled thoughts into coherent words. It was like just the mere glimpse of you had him going insane, a mess of flushed cheeks and racing hearts- and short breaths- and everything. He felt sick, like he was going to hurl all over the carpet but in a good way, y’know?

His palms were sweaty and Katsuki’s head spun. All the lights were too bright and the music was too much. His legs felt like jelly and… shit - were you looking at him? 

Looking right at him with those drowning eyes of yours? 

Smiling at him with that godforsaken smile of yours?

Taking his scarred and calloused palm against the soft skin of your own hand?

Katsuki could write a poem about your beauty - no, he could write a million. He could strip the trees of their skin and use the charcoal as a pencil and exhaust the earth’s crust of its natural life, and still - still he couldn’t capture you. 

Your raw essence.

Your brilliance.

The way you shine and shimmer.

The way your eyes crinkle- and your breath gets stuck in your throat. The pads of your fingertips and the softness of your collarbones, and the dip and curve of you back and- and- and- 

God, he was smitten.

And god.

Katsuki was going to die.

He was going to die again and it was all your fucking fault.

Fucking hell. It was always your fault. 

All of it. 

Everything was your fault.

He pushed himself harder, all because of those melodic words you used to sing to him. How you looked up to him when you were teenagers. 

He worked on himself because you had told him you liked seeing the parts of him that nobody else had.

"I want to see the parts of you that nobody else has."

There was no way in hell that sentence was platonic. God he was such a fucking idiot back then, it was so fucking obvious you liked him. So fucking obvious.

And he missed it.

Like the idiot he was back then.

But he wasn’t going to lose you once more. He would rather tear out his own spinal cord - tendons, ligaments, flesh and bloody bone - then let you slip in between his fingers again. 

-

Katsuki’s breath was hot against your lips, his skin was buzzing with life and his heart pounded in his ears. He felt like if he took a step back he was going to stumble and fall. You looked so… ethereal. In his arms with your lips swollen and your cheeks flushed.

Katsuki leaned down and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, his gaze softened as a soft smile tugged at his cheeks. 

“I love you.” 

He whispered, voice small. 

“I always have.”

That sense of… being wanted for so long crushed you like a new fish being thrown into its new fish tank- but it was home. 

I’m home.

Here in Katsuki’s arms. The smell of caramel, the feeling of his pulse throbbing against your palm, his imperfect and scarred flesh-

“Perfect.” You whispered under your breath.

“You’re perfect Katsuki.” You mumbled, sliding your lips across his, nails digging into the back of his shirt as he slid a strong hand under your leg, pulling his lips away only to latch onto the soft curve of your neck.

“I love you.” He sighed.

“Never leave me. Never again.”

Part One / Part Two

Everyone thnak @somnbul for helping OH MY GOD TERES A MOZZIE ON MY ARM SCRAMAINFOANFAJSNFOWAUFA

Taglist: @luvseraphh - @tlissablr - @havemyheartt - @smelliottle - @sakurayashiro - @peachesvault

Additional Mutual Tags (I want to hurt you lawl): @rueclfer - @tokeposts

© HTTPS-BAKUGO. Do not steal, copy or use any of my work for AI. Legal action will take place if caught.

[mageofmadness]

CALEB + HOLE INSPECTION

(1.8k) ₊˚⊹ 𐙚🧸‧₊˚ nsfw [18+] includes: fem!reader, jealous!caleb, questionable morals, cheating (not on caleb it's just a shitty bf), hole inspections, virginity kink if you squint, dirty talk real filthy, side eyeing yandere caleb for the mention of broken fingers and kneecaps, fingering, pet names (I'll die by the hill of pips)

caleb who is selfish.

he wants you all to himself, and he doesn’t care what it takes or how bad of a person that makes him. he’ll do anything to have you. caleb will stoop to whatever depths, so when you start going on dates with this new guy, he wishes he was conflicted but he’s not.

he’s never tried to be a good guy, not when it comes to you. fair? sure, he thinks he’s quite fair. just? yeah, he has morals like anyone else, but when it comes to you? all bets are off and he will play dirty. there’s simply no other way to play when the stakes are this high and you.

caleb who has been climbing into bed with you almost every night for years.

surely that’s not meant to stop now, right? that just seems cruel and even more selfish than what he’s got going on because caleb can’t sleep if he’s not next to you, and you tell him the same thing, so why do you need to go on dates with this guy? what’s the point? you still kiss caleb goodnight, sometimes missing his cheek and sometimes it’s closer to the corner of his mouth. you still curl up with him on the couch and wear his sweaters around the house, something he watched carefully to see a change in, but things between you and him are the same, so surely you're not about to take all of that from him now? all because of some guy you met at work?

yet, said guy won’t leave, and caleb does not like it. he deals, he manages, but he does not like sharing because, once again, he is selfish.

caleb who meets the guy for the first time and instantly hates him. not even because he’s taking you out, it’s because he’s spineless. a boy that couldn’t even look him in the eyes to shake hands. a boy—plain and simple. caleb can’t help but feel bad for the guy, really, considering he’s taking you on a date, but you’ll come home to caleb at the end of the night and curl up with caleb in bed.

caleb is not above any of this because this guy is fleeting, he has to be. he doesn’t know you, he doesn’t know what you like or want or need. not the way caleb does.

caleb who is waiting up for you when you come home.

it’s been a few months of dates with this guy, but caleb still gets his corner of the mouth kiss every other night, and last night he fell asleep to the feeling of your soft thigh thrown over his middle, so it should be fine, right? instead you come home in tears, and his first instinct is to break the man’s hands. he needs to start with the fingers, then maybe his wrists.

“pips, what’s wrong?”

you’re adamant it’s nothing. that nothing happened and you’re overreacting and caleb thinks sure, you can overreact sometimes but everyone can and that’s what he’s here for: to understand and react accordingly as well. but he cannot do that, caleb cannot protect you, if you do not tell him what’s wrong. sitting in his lap on the couch, face buried in his neck, he can’t understand what you’re mumbling. it comes out like something is wrong with me, which surely cannot be the case. caleb must have heard wrong. 

“something is wrong with you?” you nod. “nothing is wrong with you, sweetheart. why are you saying that?” caleb takes a deep breath. “you gotta tell me what’s happening or i can’t help.”

by the time caleb listens to the half-mumbled words you manage to get out around an errant sniffles, he’s already decided hands, wrist, and kneecaps will need to be broken to atone for this because that guy has some nerve insinuating there’s a single thing wrong with you. just because you didn’t want to kiss him? or, you tell caleb that you were fine kissing him, but when he tried to take things further, that’s when there were issues.

honestly, it takes everything in caleb not to scoff. the guy's more of a coward than he had initially gauged if he thought he a) deserved more than a kiss, first of all, and b) something is wrong with you because when he shoved his hand down your pants you weren't wet.

the guy doesn't exactly sound like a romeo.

“i don’t trust him,” caleb says plainly. “i never did. you deserve better, and i should have never let you walk out of that door.” you only sniffle and caleb tampers down his anger and tries again. “i’m so sorry, sweetheart. there’s nothing wrong with you, you know that?” nothing again, and caleb sighs. finally, “do you trust me?”

you nod, arms tightening around his neck.

“he touched you here?” caleb asks. his hand skates around your hip. you squirm in his lap but give him a small yes when his fingers dip between your thighs. “just touched or…”

nothing else, you’re adamant and caleb trusts you explicitly, but his blood is boiling hot and he just…he needs to be sure. caleb sits up, and you hmph, but he shushes you. he needs you to know there’s not a thing wrong with you, that this isn’t a you issue. he smooths his hand over the hem of your dress that rides up the back of your thighs when he moves, draping you over his lap this time, ass up.

“were you going to fuck him?” caleb gets a gut wrenching maybe in response as he marvels at the silky smooth expanse of the back of your legs. so, so pretty. “why?” he unfairly demands. “you liked him that much?”

you shake your head, breathing heavy against his thighs. “no, just wanted to know…what it felt like.”

“that’s what i’m here for, pips.” he says, waiting for you to stop him, but you don’t. you gasp as he rucks up your dress, letting it pool around your waist. he groans at the sight of bright red panties, the curve of your ass settled pretty over his lap about to be his undoing. “you know that right? tell me you know that.” he pleads. "can i touch you?"

"please."

caleb wastes no time. he thumbs at your hole, over the red lace that's wet under his touch. “you ever fuck yourself, sweetheart?”

you whine his name in embarrassment, but eventually nod. he groans, imagining you in bed or the shower with your fingers buried to the knuckle in your cunt. maybe while he's in the other room, or maybe in the shower right before you crawl into bed with him.

“good girl,” he mumbles and feels you relax more. “but what's all this about?” caleb pulls his thumb back, and pops it in his mouth. he groans. “thought he was adamant something was wrong and this pussy doesn’t get wet.” caleb tsks but sighs in relief when he realizes they guy really didn't get this far. “doesn’t seem a problem to me, so, then what is it? tell me the difference here, pips.”

he hears you stammer out "y–you, caleb," and feels satisfaction like a bat to the back of the head, making him dizzy. concussing him. caleb's fingers trace over edges of lace and soft skin. “so pretty, baby. will you sit still while i take a look?”

“why?”

“nothing is wrong, sweetheart. i just want to make sure he didn't hurt this pretty hole.”

he feels you shiver, and caleb can't help but grin.

that guy didn't stand a chance.

he slowly drags your underwear down, discarding them in his pocket for safe keeping. what greets him when he looks back is the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, actually. it’s jaw-dropping, and wet. so clearly wet from the way it looks, sticky and peeking out between plush thighs over his lap.

“my heart, pips, i cant take it.” caleb says as he grips your hips, then your ass. watching your skin bloom pink as he spreads you open to see more. “hold still. i know you know that you can ask anything of me, so if this hole is needy, you come to me now, understood?”

"you need someone to take care of you, not someone that's going to shove his hands down your pants and expect anything, got it?"

he spreads your pussy open, watching as it twitches under his touch and when he presses a finger against your hole, it gives easily. "tight and greedy," he tsks.

caleb cannot help but tease. your pussy is perfect and untouched. he plays with it, watching you respond. watching as you jump when he pushes just the tip of two fingers in. pink and so sweet, caleb's mouth waters. "she's so pretty, sweetheart. i do think we're gonna have an issue though. i dunno if i can fit into a tiny hole like this." he hooks his finger and uses it to stretch you open and you moan his name. "don't get fussy. we'll figure it out, pips."

he watches as you whimper and moan, working yourself into a near fit over the prodding of his fingers. the way he spreads you open, leaning close and letting his breath ghost over your twitching hole. watching for your reactions and never giving you enough.

“doesn't even seem like i need to train this little hole to only get wet for me, hm? seems she’s already taken care of that herself."

"you're so soft, sweetheart.”

"can i make you come? looks like you need it." he kisses the back of your head, and then your shoulder. mumbling, "promise I'll take such good care of you. how could i not? i've got the sweetest thing in my lap right now, all wet and whining...mhm, you are whining, pips, but that's okay. just let me..."

after readjusting your hips, you easily take two of his fingers, all the way to the knuckle and instead of imginging you doing this to yourself, caleb watches as his own fingers disappear into your cunt. you're a needy thing, too, and he groans. imagining you struggling to take his cock but you would because you're, "so good, baby. so good for me, just like that. does that feel good?"

watching as your thighs fall further apart, as you start to cry for him. for more. for him to kiss you, and caleb does. of course he does. he pulls his fingers out, picking you up and tossing you over his shoulder as he heads for his bed.

"think i'm gonna fuck you, pips," caleb mumbles, bringing a hand down on your ass. you scold him, still limp-legged and breathing heavy. head heavy in the clouds. caleb grins and tosses you onto the bed. "you want that? then we'll have another look at that hole."

@ mageofmadness 2025. ִֶָ. 234.108.120 238.165.187

[gojover]

the kids in sugawara’s class know he’s married.

they know because sugawara talks about you all the time. he tries not to, really, but sometimes it slips out when he’s explaining fractions or handing out worksheets. my wife says this is the best way to remember your times tables. or my wife packed these cookies—they’re pretty good, right?

still, knowing he’s married is one thing. seeing his wife drop by his classroom in the middle of the day is another. 

it’s a mercy, he thinks, that the kids are out in the playground for recess.

“you forgot this,” you say, leaning against the doorframe with a fond smile. his lunchbox dangles from your hand.

sugawara blinks. “did i?”

“you did.”

“that’s weird,” he says, though it’s not weird. he’d been running late this morning after you’d kissed him goodbye a little too long. “you sure you didn’t just want an excuse to see me?”

you step into the classroom, walking over to his desk. “would that be so bad?”

he hums. “not at all.”

you set the lunchbox down in front of him. sugawara watches you quietly—the soft curve of your smile, the way the sunlight catches in your hair. he’s a little obsessed with you, but he figures that’s allowed.

“you’re lucky i caught you before you starved to death,” you tell him.

“would’ve been a tragic way to go,” sugawara agrees solemnly. his hands ghosts over yours on the desk, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“but then again, maybe i’d be doing the school a favour.”

“harsh.” sugawara brushes the pad of his thumb lazily over the back of your palm. his hand slides up to your wrist, fingers curling lightly. “thanks for bringing me my lunch. very thoughtful of you.”

“mm,” you hum, leaning in slightly. “i’m a very thoughtful person.”

he tilts his head, eyes crinkling in the corner when he smiles. he has crow’s feet, but he doesn’t mind, because the reason behind them, more often than not, is you. “you’re perfect, is what you are.”

“flatterer,” you say, but you don’t pull away.

sugawara’s gaze flickers towards the door. the hallway is still empty. the sounds of recess carry through the open window—kids laughing, a distant whistle. he doesn’t think about it too hard. he never really does when it comes to you. he leans in, his hand sliding from your wrist to your waist as he lifts his head. his mouth brushes over yours, soft and sure. it’s just a press of his lips against yours, but you lean into him like you’ve been waiting for it all day.

it’s quick—it has to be, with recess almost over—but sugawara can’t help the dopey grin that spreads across his face. he’s lovesick, and terribly so. you leave his classroom with a smile and a promise to see him at home, and sugawara’s hands and heart are warm when he unwraps the bento you’d packed for him.

the kids pour in later, loud and messy, with sweat dripping off their foreheads and grass stains on their knees. one little boy with a slightly runny nose stops in front of his desk, peering at him suspiciously.

“sensei?” he asks. “why are you smiling like that?”

sugawara shakes his head, fighting back a grin. “do i need a reason to smile?’

“sensei,” another girl, with her hair tied in two pigtails, groans. “do we have to do math again?”

“yep,” he says, “but after that, i’ll read out a really sweet poem that my wife showed me the other day. how does that sound?”

#12. sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

[specialgradefckr]

Satoru Gojo who thinks you're only with him for the money.

He's pretty insufferable, after all. And a shitty boyfriend to boot - always bailing on dates, showing up at weird times, telling you vague stories about his work that don't make sense.

Honestly he's surprised you've stuck around this long.

That you still read every message he spams you when he's bored and lonely fighting special grade curses.

(after all, he always has to go on those missions alone. there's no one who can go with him.)

You still text him back. Open the door to let him in. Smile when you see him, like it's the very first time and he can tell you're just so star-struck by his eyes as he tugs down his blindfold with a grin, "Do I look blind to you?" "Blindingly handsome!"

He'd laughed at that. You're shocked by his appearance, but you're earnest, and so obviously smitten, and he loves a woman with a little humor.

Satoru Gojo who didn't expect you to text him back after the first night, but you did.

cutie pie: omg, those look so good! what flavor? satoru: my favorite, the edamame and cream~ cutie pie: bring some for me next time you visit <3 i'll feed them to you ;)

On a lesser man, that might have sounded presumptuous. To Satoru, it's the perfect come-on. Casual, flirty, and easy to do - all the makings of a great hookup.

He hadn't expected to spend half the night on his knees like a dog, licking at your fingers. Watering over a thumb pressed down against his tongue while you drooled your mochi-sweet saliva straight into his open mouth.

Unexpected, but amazing! Satoru knew then that you were going to be a treat worth savoring.

It was just a shame that he could only enjoy you for one night.

Not even that much, really. He'd been called away in bed; one arm wrapped around your darling naked form, holding you pressed against him.

Left while you were asleep without a word. He'd texted you on the way, a blase little "sowwyyyyy smth came up! u were gr8 last night." and no real expectations of a return.

If you were (reasonably) upset with him, he'd block you - his one act of kindness to a woman he couldn't treat right.

Instead he gets "thanks! you weren't so bad yourself haha" and your enthusiasm is obviously a bit defused, but he can work with this.

He lays it out to you, next chance he gets. Tries to text you often enough to make sure you don't think he's ghosted you.

"I know this might sound like the kind of thing married men say," He says with a big, sardonic smile, "But I have a very demanding job. I don't have time for a relationship. And for personal reasons, I can't agree to be exclusive, either."

There's a look you give him that makes him wonder what exactly you think of his job. Satoru vaguely wonders if you think he's a sex worker.

He hopes you try to find him on porn websites later. Maybe he should film himself jerking off real quick sometime so you can watch it.

"That makes sense," Is what you say, instead of any of the ridiculous thinks he'd imagined.

You don't seem thrilled about it, but you don't look immeasurably disappointed, either. You're a smart girl. You'd probably already figured he couldn't commit.

"But!" He chirps, "I am very very interested in seeing you again. Multiple agains. And I'd like to come to an arrangement that makes that easier for you, since my schedule is so tight..."

For a moment, you stay quiet, and Satoru wonders if he should just offer you cash upfront. But you're receptive, and things go well.

Worryingly well, to be honest. What type of girl are you, exactly? Naughty thing. Get money from a lot of men, do you?

You laugh when he tries to bring it up in bed, "You're one to talk, Mr. can't-promise-exclusivity," you tease, running a hand through his hair while you smile at him.

He likes it when you do that. He likes a lot of things you do.

The real wonder is - although he is absolutely spectacular in bed of course - how much do you like it?

The whole relationship has to happen on his shitty, inconsistent schedule. He can't commit to a relationship or tell you about his job - you're better off that way. Even if you don't know.

Satoru Gojo who pretends to go on dates with other girls sometimes just so that no one watching him thinks he's serious about you. He can't have the Higher Ups thinking of you as a tool to use against him.

He can't even offer you exclusivity. Even if he wants to. Even if he struggles to get it up with those girls - his heart just isn't it in - when he's making sure everyone who's watching him knows you're just one of several people he's having sex with.

After all, the only thing that could be worse than people thinking you were the strongest sorcerer's weakness, was if they thought you might be pregnant with the strongest sorcerer's child.

But if he's fucking around, if he's the whore his so-called superiors make him out to be - then you're safe. Just another girl.

And god, does he take advantage of it.

Texting you late at night. Early in the morning. Times don't mean a lot to him these days.

The most sleep he ever gets is the rare night he spends with you, maybe once or twice a month, five hours in your arms before he pulls himself away and slinks out of bed while you're still asleep like a guilty dog.

He doesn't deserve your warmth or your bed. But he'll take it while you're offering. Eat it all up and beg shamelessly for seconds.

He makes up for it with money, or tries to. Leaves you treats and sweets and other gifts. Spam texts you and facetimes you constantly - when he can.

To be perfectly honest, he's kind of expecting to be dumped any day. He'll take whatever he can get.

If paying your rent or buying you a house makes you feel guilty enough to stay a few days longer with him, that's a good use of his money.

He arranges for you to receive an offer for a remote job, something flexible that will let you meet him whenever he comes calling.

His gifts get more lavish. He's always generous in bed, makes sure you have a good time.

He has a reputation to uphold, after all.

Sometimes he just stares at you when you're asleep. It feels like a waste to spend his precious few hours with you sleeping.

Look at you. All peaceful in his arms. Cuddling up to him.

He can admit, in the dead of night, with no witnesses but himself; the sight makes his heart tug.

If he could, he'd stay. Wake up next to you in the morning. Make breakfast, flirt, joke, maybe even take a little ~morning shower~ and have some fun in there.

It's so clear in his head. How you'd joke back. Smile and giggle and playfully bump against him. Give him a little kiss, a little hug before he leaves for work.

You would kiss his forehead when he got migraines. Hug him when he talks about his difficulties at work.

Your soft smile, your warm lips, your tight hug. It's all so vivid in his head. How you'd look in the morning light, staring at him while you think he's asleep.

Would you stare? What would show on your face, then?

He tries, very hard, not to imagine what your face must look like when you wake up alone every time you sleep with him.

What you think about when he's not there.

Do you wonder if he's with other women? Do you see his flirty texts - "sorry kitten daddy's gotta work late" "babygirl you're not my dad, he goes to bed at 9." - and wonder if he's said that to a hundred other girls?

Because he has. And that's what hurts, really. He could message a hundred girls and get a hundred vapid responses, all those notifications could build up in his phone and he wouldn't care.

But when it's you messaging him?

When you tell him about your day, or text him a picture, or pick up on the rare phone call he gets to make - Satoru's heart skips a beat.

What about you? He thinks about you checking your phone constantly to see anything from him, and it hurts.

You don't show any unhappiness about the arrangement. Every gift, every little arrangement or donation he makes, you accept it all with grace. Everything money can buy is yours, he makes that clear.

As long as you're with him, he'll spoil you rotten. And you were starstruck in the beginning, he could tell.

Expensive hotels, exclusive restaurants. First class flights everywhere, even a private jet if you want it. He brings you custom made jewelry worth more than people make in a year, pulls it out of his pocket and clasps it around your wrist like a passing trinket.

You get used to the constant spa days, the shopping trips. Ordering food for every meal. Living in a city center in a beautiful penthouse with brilliant fixtures. And you're happy like that. At least you look like you are.

But every time he sees you, you're with him. He can't tell if you miss him, if you're sad when he's not there.

He... he sort of doesn't want to know.

Satoru Gojo who loves you. And he hopes to god you don't love him back.

After all, if you did, then you'd want things from him he can't give. Shouldn't give.

But if all you love is his money? He's got tons of it. You can have as much as you want. He can make you happy. He can buy the love he can't afford to earn. He'll never run out of funds.

As long as it's only his money you love, he can have you forever.

[m3nt4lly1ll1]

I think that it’s good to destigmatize generally seen “bad” mental disorders

However

Based on my own experiences I will be wary of people with BPD and bipolar and NPD because I had to live with a person like that. And i absolutely will do everything in my own power to make sure that I don’t get back into a situation like that. It was so severely detrimental to my mental health and still IS.

(I did read this whole thing. Centered on that part)

Will I go around and yell that everyone with BPD and bipolar and NPD is terrible and should die or something? No. Because it’s not true, I’m sure. But I’m gonna do what I’m gonna do to protect myself from another bad relationship with a person.

I genuinely can't stand pop psychology I'm not an expert on this stuff but the damage it has done to the general public's understanding of mental health and psychology must be notable. People with low empathy are evil. NPD is The Abuser Disorder. here's how your partner is subconsciously manipulating you. OCD is when you like cleaning. If you ask him a question and he looks away for one second he's lying to you and abusing you. Follow for more dark psychology tips. Letting my intrusive thoughts win and dyeing my hair. I thought this guy was into me I'm so delulu. Anyone who comes to you with their problems is traumadumping and abusive. Anyone who gives you gifts is lovebombing and abusive. Being neurodivergent means Liking Things. Neurotypicals don't like things. They are empty shells without feelings. Neurodivergent means ADHD or ASD. What, BPD? Schizophrenia?? That's not very quirky or fun. And that's what neurodivergent means. That's just weird. Being mentally ill isn't an excuse to be weird. Only Evil People manipulate and abuse. There are certain people who Are Evil by nature (people with NPD) and they Will abuse you. Loving someone means it's impossible to abuse them only Evil People Who Hate You are abusive. Have I mentioned that people with NPD are evil. I really want to drive that home

[illyrianbitch]

A Sleeping Guide for Insomniacs

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel has spent weeks watching the light from your shop burn long into the night. Tonight, when sleep refuses him once again, he finally follows it.

Warnings: Az's mental state is not the greatest aka self-deprication, envy, loneliness, insomnia… but also a growing cruuuush!!

Word Count: 3.9k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Step One: Find the Light

Every insomniac has a lighthouse — some flickering glow that keeps them tethered through the long, unbroken dark. It might be the streetlamp outside your window. The low burn of coals in the hearth. The lonely glint of a candlelit window across the city. It will not always be the brightest light. But it will be the one you cannot stop looking at.

— (A Sleeping Guide for Insomniacs, 14)

Azriel never slept. 

Not really, not the way the others did.

He’d gotten used to it over the centuries, the way his mind, despite being fraught with exhaustion, never seemed to leave him alone. When he was younger, he used to think it was a blessing —in some weird, twisted way.

His ability to remain constantly thinking, worrying, conjuring up every thought he could, occupied him. Kept him company. That, along with his shadows, made him feel less alone. Even if it made him miserable.

Because at least then, he was miserable with company—of his own making, of course.

But lately, it had been worse.

It wasn't just the exhaustion anymore. Not just the restless hum beneath his skin that never truly faded. It was something else, something much heavier.

His shadows felt it, too. They lingered closer than usual, curling over his shoulders, tugging at his wrists—searching for something they couldn’t name. Herding him toward sleep he never took. They were restless, too. Tired in a way that wasn’t natural.

Tonight was no different. Sitting in bed was proving to be pointless. He was too exhausted to untangle everything he felt, anyway. It was all muddled together now—the anxiety, the anger, the fear, the stress. Heavy and dark, pressing into his ribs until it hurt to breathe. Like something had cracked inside him. Like he was suffocating beneath the weight of his own life.

He exhaled sharply and glanced toward the window. The sky outside was clear. He stared at it for a few moments.

Then, like always, Az moved.

The roof was where he ended up on nights like this. Perched above the world, half-hidden in the shadows, he could watch the city without being seen. He tried not to think about the joke Mor had made once—that he looked like some strange gargoyle up here. She wasn't entirely wrong. 

But he couldn't shake the habit. Something about it made him almost feel like a child again. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Didn't care enough to think about it too long.

Azriel leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, scanning the quiet streets below.

He thought he would get used to the silence. After all, Az liked his solitude. 

But with everyone else moved on, living in their own spaces, the townhouse was too still. Too empty. He missed the sounds of life filling the space. The steady heartbeats. The familiar voices. The laughter of his family drifting from different rooms. Sure, he didn’t always join in, but he liked knowing they were there. Liked knowing they were safe.

Without them, the loneliness settled in his bones. 

On nights when the ache felt unbearable, when the silence stretched too long, too empty—he hated how bitter it made him. Hated that he wished his family felt it too. Wished they were just as alone, just as lost, so he wouldn’t be the only one.

And then he’d hate himself for it. The thought made him sick. Made him ashamed.

It wasn’t fair. He knew that. He didn’t mean it, either. He knew that, too.

But it was getting harder to tell which version of himself was real—the one who loved his family enough to encourage them moving on, or the one who resented being left behind. The one that seethed with loneliness.

Maybe both.

Maybe neither.

He tilted his head back, staring at the night sky. A few birds—maybe bats, though Az wasn't sure—flew overhead, their dark shapes cutting across the stars. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to just fly. To fly without a destination, without a place to go. Just fly, and be free, and not have to think about anything at all. 

Great. He was jealous of a fucking bird.

Azriel huffed a quiet breath, shaking his head, and let his gaze drift back down. The city stretched before him, lanterns faintly glowing along the cobbled streets.

It was there again.

A single shop, its light still flickering in the dark.

He’d noticed it before. He knew the shop, too—a small candle store tucked between the narrow alleys, the one he passed by more often than he should. He’d seen you through the windows, tending to customers, organizing shelves. You weren’t a stranger, not exactly. He knew your name. Your business. And yet, he didn't know you.

He wanted to, though. Strangely enough, he did.

Because every night, long past reason, your light was still on.

And every night he found himself looking for it. Searching for that small, flickering glow in the dark.

It was curiosity at first. A distraction. Something to focus on when the silence became too much. But then he started wondering. About you. About why you stayed up so late, what kept you there when the rest of the city had long since gone to sleep.

Perhaps it was selfish of him to be grateful that someone else was as sleepless as he was. But he was. He was grateful that within the past few heavy and lonely months, you had kept him company without even realizing it.

Azriel stared at the light for a few more moments. 

And then, before his mind could catch up—

He was moving once again.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The city was different at this hour. Liminal. Caught between worlds. Azriel liked it like this, when it was neither awake nor asleep. When it was just existing—silent and undisturbed.

And yet, as he walked, that quiet was not as comforting as it should've been.

Because he noticed, now, how much darker some streets were. How the silence didn't feel like peace and safety.

When he reached your shop, he stopped.

The door was open.

Not just unlocked, but open. The sign hanging in the window still read: OPEN.

His brows furrowed. That was dangerous. Reckless. Did anyone else know you were here, alone in the dead of night? Was there someone inside with you?

Anything could happen.

He hated that thought.

Hated it because it was true. Because his city was not as safe as it should be. Because if he—the Night Court’s Spymaster, its protector—could think such a thing in the middle of Velaris, then what did that say about him?

What did that say about what he had failed to protect?

His jaw tightened. His shadows shifted. He thought about leaving. Thought about stepping away before he made this mean something it didn't.

Then the door moved.

A figure stepped out—a male, hunched over slightly, shoulders drawn. There was something shaken in his expression, something raw. His eyes flicked to Azriel, widening slightly in recognition before his gaze dropped in silent understanding. He nodded—just once—before slipping into the night.

Azriel watched him go. Then turned back to the open door.

And stepped inside.

The shop was warmer than he expected, its air thick with scent—layers of them, pressing in from all sides. Sweet, sharp, earthy, floral. It should've been overwhelming. Usually, it would've been. Azriel got overwhelmed quicker these days.

Instead, it felt comforting. Welcoming.

And, for just a moment, Azriel forgot that outside was still cold. Still dark. Still waiting.

He stood in the entrance for a few more seconds. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, if he was waiting for anything at all. All he knew was that your light stayed on long after every other window in Velaris had gone dark— and something about that made him feel connected to you.

A small thud pulled his attention.

And, for another moment, Azriel forgot how to move.

You were there, at a small front counter, and you were beautiful.

Not in the way that all beautiful things were, but in a way that felt undeniable. A certain kind of beauty that made his body stop. Made his mind stutter.

It was a stupid reaction from him, really. He'd seen you before in passing, had walked past this place nearly a hundred times. He knew, on paper, who you were. And yet—

He had never seen you like this. In the dead of night, surrounded by sleepy fae lights and the smell of a thousand memories.

He forced himself to look away, feeling a timid sense of embarrassment burning under his skin. He did the only thing he could think to do, then. He wandered.

The store wasn't a large space by any means, but Az made a show of studying it, drifting through the narrow isles, letting the scents shift around him. He tucked his wings in tight, careful not to knock over any of the delicate glass jars and candles. He knew his luck well enough to know that if something could be broken, it would be.

His shadows stirred with his movements, tugging at him like restless children eager to explore. Az let himself indulge, just slightly, as his fingers trailed over the shelves' edges.

Az reeled them in when they spread out too far.

Usually, he felt guilty for how little rest they got, how they tried to match his own sleeplessness. Even after all these centuries, he wasn’t quite sure how they slept, if they needed it the way he did. But tonight, they were quieter. Slower. And for once, he was grateful. It made it easier to keep them close, to keep himself contained.

Azriel stopped in front of a small display of candles.

They weren’t perfect. The wax wasn’t always smooth, some wicks sat slightly off-center, and a few had tiny air bubbles trapped beneath the surface. But they were beautiful. The glass containers varied—some clear, others tinted amber or deep green. A few were housed in pottery, the edges slightly uneven, the glaze catching the dim light in soft, imperfect ripples.

The labels on each were equally beautiful: handwritten in careful script, some adorned with pressed flowers or gold foil.

He could tell that care has been put into them. None of them had been made to look exactly like the next. Something in his chest ached at that. In awe, maybe. In envy, too. He wasn't sure why. He didn't question it, though. He was envious of everything recently. Bitter.

Slow, gentle tendrils of shadow ghosted across the shelf, slipping over the carefully arranged candles, tracing the delicate script on their labels. They curled against the wall before settling over one in particular.

Az picked it up.

He wasn't sure why he did. There was no real reason to smell any candle—nothing but the simple truth that he was stalling. That he wasn't quite ready to leave, that standing here doing nothing was more conspicuous than pretending to browse.

So he lifted the candle to his nose.

And immediately regretted it.

The scent that filled his lungs was atrocious.

Something rotting, something sour, something deeply wrong. Like burnt hair and spoiled fruit and the sharp tang of metal. He nearly recoiled— nearly.

Years of his duties had taught him how to keep his face unreadable. He was grateful for that training now, for those unrealistic expectations he'd set upon himself. He didn't need to see his reflection to know there was no hint of his disgust in his face.

There could be a trace in his eyes, maybe. His mother always said they were rather expressive. It was why he didn't hold eye contact as long as his brothers.

But no one was looking at his eyes now.

Slowly, carefully, he lowered the candle.

And glanced at the shelf.

There was no visible label. No indication of what, exactly, he had just inhaled. Only his shadows, spread across the wall still. Although they sensed his distress, they were utterly unhelpful — a few lone wisps coiling around him in amusement, their edges twitching with silent laughter.

He exhaled sharply. From across the room, he heard the sound of something else. The sound of you—soft laughter, just barely contained.

He glanced up to you already watching him, a knowing look in your eyes. He willed himself to look away, quicky placing the candle back on the shelf, pulling his hands away from view. But seconds later, he felt you approach him, felt the warmth of your presence stretch out like he was sat near a fire.

You cleared your throat. Gently, elegantly, like you were afraid to spook him. He took a deep breath, focused his control on his shadows, and turned to look at you.

You titled your head. "So? What do you think?"

He offered you a tight, polite smile— if you could even call it that. In reality, it was a tiny tug at the corner of his lips. Just movement enough to show he was not a threat, movement enough to not seem rude.

"It's lovely," Azriel said, lying.

"Really?"

"Yes."

You paused. Watched him too closely. Then, with what seemed to be barely contained amusement, you said, "Would you like to buy it? I'm having a sale."

There was a beat of hesitation. He should've said no. He knew this. He had no use for any candles, let alone ones that stirred up a gag reflex he never knew he had. But he couldn't. It would be rude, to enter your shop, to touch all of its offerings, and not buy something — right?

His shadows curled around his ear, whispering their betrayal in a hushed murmur.

Must buy. Sweet. Perfect.

Another wisp twined around his wrist, prodding at his fingers, amused. It appeared him and his shadows had different definitions of what perfect smelled like.

"I would," Azriel said.

"Really?"

"I have some people in my life who love scents like this."

You furrowed a brow, the corners of your lips tilting into a hesitant smile. There was something so alive about the way your features moved. Animated, shifting, vibrant. He wished Feyre was here—if only to memorize your face and paint it later. Capture whatever it was that made you feel so… present. "You do?"

He didn't, but Azriel nodded anyway.

"That's interesting."

Azriel immediately regretted speaking. There was a right and a wrong answer, it seemed. And he knew, from the glint in your eye, that his answer was wrong.

You plucked the candle from the shelf, turning it between your fingers before giving him a slow, knowing smile. “Because this one is specifically designed to be awful.”

His brows lifted slightly. He glanced back at the shelf, at the small section his shadows had now uncovered—an area filled with other unlabeled candles, their scents likely just as offensive. And there, right above them, a small carved sign: For Particular Noses and Mischievous Reasons.

Azriel exhaled through his nose. His shadows curled around him in clear amusement. Traitors.

They whispered back, gleeful and smug. Mischievous reasons, yes.

“They’re kind of oddly specific,” you admitted, setting the candle back down. “People like to use them as jokes, but sometimes they sell—people have weird cravings. You’d be surprised what some fae miss from their old lives. Even the gross stuff. I think it's sweet, in a way.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes drifting back to you.

You didn’t sleep.

He knew that, of course, from the days spent watching your light from across the city.

But he could see it now, even more clearly than before. The faint shadows beneath your eyes, the way your movements were just a little too slow, too careful, as if you were running on borrowed energy. He knew that feeling well.

It was strange. He hated the way exhaustion looked on himself. It made him feel weary, tired, unapproachable. Unattractive. But on you…

He was inclined to say it was pretty — and that it was wrong. Wrong that you were awake only at night, that you were tucked away in this tiny shop, unseen by most of the world. It felt almost sinful that the daylight, and those who thrived in it, couldn't witness you like this.

Azriel shifted his weight, forcing the thought from his mind.

It was just the lack of sleep making him strangely soft, uncharacteristically fond of a stranger. He needed to fix his image now before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

“You don’t have to get that one,” you murmured, your fingertips brushing over the candles like they were something precious.

Azriel had seen lovers touch each other with less fondness. A strange, twisting thing settled in his chest at the thought—because he couldn't remember the last time someone had touched him like that.

He suddenly felt like an intruder in a place meant for softer things than him.

“No,” he said, too quickly. “I liked it.”

You pressed your lips together, amused. He was making a fool out of himself, this he was sure of. But he didn't mind. You looked at him. Said nothing. Just looked.

Az was suddenly very aware of himself. Of the way his fingers curled against his sides, of the way he was standing too stiffly, too awkwardly. He felt on display.

His shadows betrayed him first—darting toward you, reaching, playful. He clenched his fists, willing them back before they could weave themselves around your wrist or through your hair. They had never done that before, not without his command. He had to fight them. Maybe himself, too.

You turned, slowly walking and scanning the shelves until you plucked something from one of the quieter, more tucked-away sections.

Azriel barely noticed at first. His mind was elsewhere—distracted, unmoored. The scent of you lingered in the air, something soft, something warm, and his shadows—traitorous things—drifted toward it. Like they wanted to pull it apart, understand it, memorize it. He only just managed to reel them back in before you turned.

You held the candle out to him. 

He stepped toward you. “What is it?”

“Something I think you’d like.”

He hesitated before taking it, siphons glowing faintly as his fingers brushed against yours. He stilled. 

He hated how much they stood out in places like this, how the gleam of them felt unnatural against the warm, quiet glow of the shop. He never took them off. Never would. He wondered if you thought it was strange. 

If you did, you didn’t show it. You didn’t even glance at them, didn’t react to the scars on his hands. Your fingers didn’t flinch against his. 

You didn’t seem to notice at all. 

But Azriel did. He always did.

He looked at the object in his hand.

It was a small thing, carefully crafted like all the others, and the glass was warm from where your fingers had been. He turned it over, reading the handwritten label. The written scent was unfamiliar, but when he lifted the lid and breathed it in, something settled inside him.

It was subtle. The first thing he caught was something clean, airy—like the hush of the sky just before dawn. Then something deeper, warmer. A hint of cedarwood, maybe. And beneath it all, the faintest trace of something he couldn't quite name—something like parchment, like ink that settled into the pages of a well-worn book.

It smelled… quiet.

Reminded him of early mornings in the House of Wind before anyone else was awake. Of sitting in the dim glow of faelight, tracing his fingers over old maps during times of peace, his shadows curled lazily at his feet. It smelled like the moments he let himself pause.

There hadn't been many of those recently.

“One of my favorites,” you said softly. “I call it Stillness.”

He swallowed, carefully put the lid back on, and met your eyes. "I can see why. I like it."

You smiled at him. It was a shy smile, much more reserved than your other reactions. "Yeah?"

Azriel nodded. Meant it, this time, as he said, "It's lovely."

For a moment, everything slowed as he held your gaze. 

His chest felt too tight, his shadows too still.  He cleared his throat.

His shadows jumped at the sound, gently scattering like birds startled from a perch. It made him feel better—that they, too, had been stuck in some strange, lingering moment. That it wasn’t just him.

"I'll take this one."

You led him to the counter, and he watched as you carefully wrapped the candle in brown paper. He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a few coins, but before he could set them down, you shook your head.

“It’s on the house.”

He frowned. “No, that’s—”

“It’s on the house,” you repeated, "Consider it an apology gift, for not offering the proper warning regarding my more…unique scents."

You leaned forward slightly, voice dropping into something conspiratorial, something soft. "I saw your face. I'm just happy I didn't have to clean vomit off my floor."

Azriel's ears burned. He was suddenly very grateful his hair had grown out some, that the longer strands covered the worst of it. He looked down, collected himself for a brief moment, and then met your eyes once more. 

“You’re welcome to come by anytime. I appreciate the company.” You slid the package toward him, gaze flicking to his shadows. Your lips twitched, just slightly, as you added, "In all the forms that they may come in." 

His shadows preened at the words, swirling a little closer to you, begging to brush against your wrist like a cat seeking affection.

He didn't know why that made his heart stutter. 

Maybe it was because most people ignored them. Or feared them. Or spoke about them in hushed tones, like they were something to be managed, tolerated.

You acknowledged them. Spoke to them like they were something welcome, something natural. And they responded to you, drawn in, pleased. As if they liked being seen by you. He wasn’t sure what to make of that.

With a small nod, Az murmured, “Thank you.” 

And then he left.

When he got home, Azriel placed the candle on his bedside table.

He didn't light it. Couldn't bring himself to, for some strange, aching reason. He only lifted it to his nose, breathed in its scent, and let it settle into his lungs. 

For once, the weight in his chest felt manageable.

He thought about that first awful candle. Thought about the small smile you'd given him, how you'd let him flounder in his own forced politeness before revealing the joke.

In the quiet of his room, Az exhaled a quiet breath. Something close to a laugh. An almost-smile accompanied it.

He wondered if you could make candles that were even worse— if he could somehow commission a magical candle that smelled different to two halves of one whole. A sweet and sultry vanilla scent for Nesta that could bleed into rotten milk and dirty clothes whenever Cassian smelled it himself. 

That gave him another almost-smile.

He didn't sleep. He didn't expect to. But when he laid down, shadows stirring beside him, falling into their gentle rhythm of rest, he didn't feel so sad anymore.

Whatever this was, this quiet, weightless feeling—it was close enough to peace for now.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: new mini series that’s already planned out!!! yippe!!! something about this series makes my heart warm. trust me when i say they’re so so so sweet. what do yall think 🥹

creating a taglist for this series tonight, lmk if you’d like to be added <3

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten  @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon  @glam-targaryen 

@cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg @evergreenlark 

@marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters @starswholistenanddreamsanswered 

@feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @azrielrot @justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli 

@mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254 @secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows @mellowmusings

@paankhaleyaaar @curiosandcourioser @thisrandombitch @casiiopea2 @w0nderw0manly

@rottenroyalebooks @jurdanpotter @casiiopea2 @gamarancianne @weesablackbeak

@booksaremyescapeworld @knoxic  @wynintheclouds @dacrethehalls  @louisa-harrier

[onsomenewsht]

Silencio en la biblioteca, los ángeles también pecan

About when people slide in Alexia's DMs, she forget about it, and you find it way too funny

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: 2k

》 to slide into someone DMs [Internet slang]: to confidently send a direct message to someone via social media, mostly with romantic or sexual intentions

“Most famous person on your phone?”

Alexia’s cheeks redden slightly under the studio’s lights and the playful tone of the host’s voice.

It’s predictable enough, part of the game of rapid-fire questions. It’s innocent enough, intended to tease the interview on social media later on. It’s not bad, but she is.

She thinks of you immediately, her heart skipping a beat.

It’s not strange for her, you crossing her mind unprompted at the most inappropriate times. But Alexia can blame Vicky for this one.

The younger girl sent her a TikTok edit yesterday.

Footage of you with a sparkling toy microphone, dressed in a princess gown as a kid, or you writing and recording in a tiny studio, meeting people and doing press tours. A voice-over, some dude on a podcast, saying that you will never make it, that singers like you don’t fill stadiums. The video cuts, with impressive editing skills, to clips of your last tour.

A tour that sold out the Bernabeu.

Twice.

She blocks Vicky after the third teasing text, and if the video gets saved in a dedicated gallery is just for her to know.

“I don’t know, probably some other athlete”, Alexia lies, more worried of saying your name out of instinct than giving a proper answer.

“Messi? The Queen of Spain, maybe?”

“The Queen? Do they even have a phone?”

“You could probably have their number if they do”, he says with a grin.

“I don’t think so”

Moving on to the next question turns out to be nothing more than wishful thinking, as the host decides this is a topic interesting enough to keep exploring.

“I bet you’ve got big names in there somewhere”

“I really don’t”, Alexia dismisses, trying to downplay the whole thing, “It mostly happens on Instagram nowadays, doesn’t it?”

“You mean people slide on your DMs”

“That’s not what I said”, she retorts, her cheeks turning a shade of red that could rival the flush she gets after an exhausting game.

There’s not a real reason for her to be so embarrassed. She faced way more uncomfortable conversation and way better than this.

It’s your fault, actually.

The Catalan can’t stop thinking about the way you smoothly added your contact on her phone after you had met just a handful of times.

Your first encounter was at a Barça’s victory party. You’d been invited to sing, genuinely excited to celebrate yet another award with the women’s team. Jana had dragged her captain along to congratulate you on the album you’d released just a couple of weeks earlier. The blonde didn’t say much, but when she did, her words were always spot-on, carefully considered.

The second time was at a charity event for her foundation. Alexia made sure to thank you for your generous donation, and you joked that it was for a good cause – helping young girls and adding an invaluable piece to your wardrobe. But Alexia saw the sincerity in your eyes and knew you meant every word.

The third time was the lucky one. You both talked for what felt like hours, ignoring the demands of others, hidden away in a secluded corner of the obnoxious rooftop terrace, crowded with music and laughter, that a mutual friend had rented for their birthday party. Just before leaving, far later than you both had intended, you asked for her phone to save your number under a silly nickname. That same night, the footballer texted you as soon as she got home.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Three years later, your contact’s still saved under the same nickname.

“So, no A-list celeb likes your old pics?”

Apparently, the host isn’t going to save her from herself. Alexia realizes she has to dig herself out of this hole without making it worse.

“I mean we all comment people’s posts or text on Instagram now, you know, it’s just easier”

“Nice save”, he remarks, clearly amused, finally moving on to the next question.

~

The weeks after the interview pass in such an erratic blur that Alexia forgets about it entirely.

You are in London to co-produce an album and her schedule is getting a bit more intense now that the Champions League is in full swing. It’s not easy juggling the endless work trips, media days, and the demanding commitments that clutter your shared calendar, but it’s worth it.

The nights hidden in a studio are worth the way you alway get inspired when talking the days away, curled into the footballer’s side. The dates you take each other on, planned in advantage of months or improvised last minute, are worth every single time you have to delay your reunion. The long video calls, the flowers sent from different countries, the red-eye flights, the supportive texts that never quite compare to a comforting hug. It’s all worth it.

After a month apart, you finally have a couple of quiet days to spend together, free from distractions. Alexia doesn’t think about that interview, and that’s a mistake.

She has a session with the team’s physio when they release it, a session that Vicky interrupts abruptly. As soon as the younger girl storms into the room, with a shit-eating smirk on her face, the blonde knows it is not going to be pleasant for her.

“Oh, you’re so done”, she teases, her grin widening as she waves the phone in front of Alexia’s face, “You’re not going to like this”

She doesn’t show her a clip from the damn interview.

Oh, no. It’s much worse.

Vicky’s already saved dozens of video edits, all of them capturing the awkward moment when Alexia tries, and fails miserably, to dodge the question about her phonebook.

“What was I supposed to say?”, the midfielder complains, dropping her head onto the massage bed, while even the physio can’t hold back a smile.

“Anything else? You basically bragged about people sliding in your DMs, you idiot”

“I didn’t say that– and I wasn’t bragging!”

Vicky raises an eyebrow at the older woman’s defense, always surprised by the genuine self-consciousness of a two-time Ballon d’Or winner, “Sometimes I wonder if you know they call you Reina for more than just your football skills”

“What does that have to do with anything?”, Alexia asks, her voice dripping with resignation.

The physio pats her shoulder, offering support and signaling she can go home. Tomorrow is a day off and, suddenly, the idea of spending it rotting in bed sounds so appealing.

“Just wait until your girlfriend sees this”, Vicky murmurs, her grin widening as she bolts from the pissed captain.

~

You have seen the interview.

Of course you have.

Alexia may not keep up with her media appearances, but you do. First and foremost because you truly love her, and second, because you adore that dorky side of her that shows up in the most unexpected moments

Like in her latest commercial. She’s posing for the camera, drenched in water to look badass, but blushing, almost embarrassed, as a list of her career accomplishments is given to her. Or in that sponsored video, where she’s in the background, annoyed and teased by her younger teammates for her most listened songs of the year to be all by the same artist.

Barcelona’s media team had to cut most of it out, but you know the whole story. And you absolutely love it.

The loudest sign of her coming home is the soft thud of her kit bag hitting the floor as soon as the door opens. You’ve given her endless shit for leaving her sport gear all over the shared apartment.

Her big hands and warm arms wrapping you from behind come second, “What are you doing here?”

Alexia kisses your shoulder, burying her face in the crook of your neck. Wet hair drips down your shirt, almost enough to annoy you into pushing her away. Almost.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you too”, you reply, smiling as you stir the sauce you've been working on for the past hour.

“Idiot”, she giggles, not moving an inch, “You had dinner with that producer tonight, no?”

“Yeah, but he had an ‘enlightening revelation’ about a track he’s working on, so he’s stuck in studio and couldn’t make it”

“You artists are wired”

“You missed a date once ‘cus you lost track of time working on a drill you ‘absolutely had to master’ that day”

The older woman doesn’t argue, knowing she wouldn’t win this one, so she just turns you around to gently, but firmly, kiss you.

It feels like the comfort of a safe space, like the certainty of a kept promise.

It may be too soon for other kinds of promises, you know that, but the future ahead looks a lot like an older, even more in-love version of the two of you. If a carefully picked ring is tucked away in an otherwise-empty guitar case, she doesn’t need to know. Not yet, at least.

“What?”, she asks, taking in your wandering gaze.

“Just thinking”

“About?”

You hesitate, just for a moment, “That I love you”

“I love you too”

“And you better clean the mess you left at the doorway before dinner’s ready”

Alexia laughs, playfully rolling her eyes, but retreating her steps back to do exactly that.

She knows something is flipping back and forth in your mind, but she also knows when to press and when to let you tidy up your own thoughts before opening up.

The sauce cooks perfectly, creamy and spiced up enough to make the footballer forget the planned dish for the day consisted of plain rice and vegetables. When the pasta is presented on the table and you sit in front of her, it truly looks like a perfect dinner.

You two talk between bites, forgetting manners as the story of a songwriter arriving at the studio with too-personal lyrics about cheating hits its peak. She’s not above good gossip, you know that, and teasing about not revealing names of the people involved is too much fun.

“Speaking of cheating”, you grin as Alexia nearly chokes on the food, shaking your head, “Your football-daughter send me a video”

“Which one?”

“Which daughter, or which video?”

She can’t hide a smile, heading to the kitchen with the empty dishes. You follow, sitting on the counter to keep enjoying each other’s company and the playful banter while she cleans up.

“Vicky sent–”

“I told you to block her”

“Don’t be mean, the videos she share are cute”, you retort, “Most of the times, at least”

“Amor–”

“You have to worry about Jana, actually. She’s ruthless”

“What does that even mean?”

The pure disbelief in her eyes almost makes you second-guess the teasing.

Almost.

“Let’s get back to the point”

“Is there a point?”

“Yes, this video of you– wait, no! Alexia!”

Before you can even finish the sentence, the midfielder decides the dishes can wait. She lifts you off the counter, cutting your words short as she tosses you onto the couch with ease.

The unexpected display of strength overshadows how her soapy hands soak your shirt. It’s an old oversized tee she used to train in, not really something that will be irremediably ruined by the gesture, but it’s the principle of it.

“You watched the interview”, she states, towering above without weighing on you.

“What interview?”

Alexia raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking up. One of her hands moving under your shirt. It’s a warning, her fingers trailing across your hip.

“I watch all you interviews”, you admit, shifting slightly to caress her cheek, “It was a good video, you’re cute when you get embarrassed”

“I panicked!”, she complains, dropping her body on top of yours to hide her face.

“I bet, with all those people sliding in your DMs–”

The room fills with laughter as she starts tickling you, and your chuckles become too infectious to hold back herself.

[norrisjpg]

only angel - ʟɴ⁴

the one where lando turns a little desperate for the girl he's trying so hard not to fuck things up with.

part one | part two | part three | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten

contains; fluff, softdom!lando, sub!lando, dom!lando, nsfw, smut; guided masterbation, phone sex, dirty talk, oral (f & m), multiple orgasms, slight facial?, fingering, praise kink; inexperienced!femoc, talks of loss of virginity, swearing.

…

…

lando was going insane.

his body was aching for her, literally and figuratively. his cock became painfully hard every time he thought about her, and his soul ached every time he remembered how good it felt to have her in his arms.

he was in bahrain, it was the first race of the season. lily couldn't make it to sakhir, some stupid fucking modelling shoot, so lando was in his dimly hotel room, alone with his thoughts and the temptation to just fly home to see lily, or vice versa, make sure she flew out the next day.

suddenly, he was grabbing his phone, scrolling through his contacts, and rapidly pressing call on the adorable photo of lily, from when they'd gone to greece together last year on his summer break.

"hey lan," she answered softly. "are you okay?"

"hi lils," lando replied, voice sounding a tad strained. "uh-yeah i'm fine, how are you? what are you up to?"

"nothing much, i'm in bed." lily told him, pulling the duvet covers up over her a little more. "i miss you, lan."

a soft noise left his lips, his soul leaping and his cock twitching at her admission, but he tried to play it off as a cough. "uh- yeah... i miss you too, lils."

she clocked it straight away.

“you sure you’re good, baby?” she asked again, her voice dropping a little lower.

“fuck, no.” lando huffed, groaning a bit. “i need you so bad.”

“missing me, pretty boy?” she whispered, “you touching yourself?”

that came out of nowhere, but he definitely wasn’t going to complain about it. his hand travelled down to his boxers, where his cock was already hard, twitching as more blood rushed down south.

“lils,” he breathed out lowly.

“go on, baby.” she said softly. “touch yourself for me, imagine i’m there with you.”

honestly, he could believe how fucking lucky he had gotten with lily — she may have been a virgin, but fuck, did she know what she was doing.

“feels s’good,” lando whimpered softly into the speaker, his head pressed back against the crisp white pillow under his skull.

“that’s it, lan.” lily talked lowly and softly. “good boy, don’t cum until i say you can, mkay?”

his now rock-hard cock twitched at her praise, his whimpers becoming a little airier and desperate. he swiped his thick thumb over the leaking tip, spreading the pre-cum around.

“fuck, can’t wait to get my mouth on you when you’re home,” lily whispered, rustling of sheets coherent on the other end of the line.

“fuck— lily,” he moaned, eyes squeezing shut as he pressed the phone harder against his ear, as if that would make her appear out of thin air. “yeah? touch yourself for me, darling.”

“already am,” she breathed out, fingers tracing the outline of her underwear. “so wet for you, lan.”

“yeah?” he whined quietly. “fuck, can’t wait to have you all to myself.”

“mhm, gonna fuck me when you get home, pretty?” she asked, almost innocently, as her fingers slid underneath her soaked cotton panties.

a strangled moan left his lips, “god yes baby, gonna stretch you out real good first, make you cum until you don’t know your own name… gonna fucking split you in half on my cock.”

he was tantalisingly close, and he was about to beg her, beg her to let him cum — when she moaned quite loudly into the phone.

lily slipped her middle finger inside of her tight pussy, just like lando would. the simple thought of replacing her hands with his own thick fingers was enough to make her legs tremble and core throb.

“fuck, lils, please let me cum,” he begged, driven closer by her sounds. “so close—”

“not yet, lan.” she cut him off, picking up the pace of her own fingers to bring her in time with him.

the needy sounds ruminating from his end of the line was enough to draw her close enough to the edge, close enough that she gave in to him.

“lily, please—” lando whimpered, feeling his body tense up in preparation.

“go ahead, pretty boy.” she hummed mindlessly.

that was all it took, the two were spiralling.

lando almost instantaneously came at the permission lily had given him, spurting thick ropes of hot sticky cum all over his stomach and hand. he groaned shakily into the phone as his eyes rolled back, mouth agape as he stroked himself through his high.

the noises that lando made sent lily crashing over the edge, her fingers cramping as her orgasm washed over her softly, making her thighs clench and teeth sink into her lower lip. she whined out his name as the aftershocks set in, eyes fluttering closed as her body buzzed in the afterglow.

“again, you are absolutely fucking incredible.” lando reiterated, breathing quite heavily.

“i try my best.” lily shot back softly from the other end.

“anyway,” he huffed. “how’s your week been?”

-

lily was going fucking nuts.

the saudi arabian air looked too good on him, he was too cocky with her, and the way he looked at her like she was the only woman he had ever seen made her want to fuck him in the garage right there and then.

“hello there,” lando murmured as he walked up behind her, stepping up onto the pitwall.

essentially, lando had cleared lily’s schedule for the week so she could accompany him for the qualifying and race of the saudi arabian grand prix weekend. she’d only arrived at 7am that morning, and she’d hardly gotten to see lando (except for when he picked up from the airport, although jon said he was definitely supposed to be asleep.)

“hi,” she smiled, spinning around in her papaya chair to face him.

she’d gotten bored of walking endless laps around the paddock (after alexandra had hurried off to the ferrari garage), so she had made her way to the pitwall, where zak invited her to sit and admire some good-looking data with him.

“mind if i steal her for a little, boss-man?” lando smiled to zak, placing his hands on either side of lily’s chair and leaning over her a little.

“no, no, go ahead, lando.” zak replied, nodding. “i think i’ve been boring her with track data.”

“ew, don’t do that.” he scrunched his nose, cutely might she add. “she won’t come back again.”

zak laughed as lily stood up, politely waving a goodbye to him as lando led her off toward his driver room in the mclaren motorhome.

“don’t you have qualifying in a couple hours?” she pondered as he opened the door.

“got a thirty minute break,” lando mumbled. “thought i’d spend it with my favourite girl.”

she smiled fondly at him, part of her wondering whether he wanted anything sexual right now — she wouldn’t turn it down, but she wasn’t mentally prepared for her body and brain to be fried for the rest of the day.

“i missed you,” he said sincerely, plopping down on the couch. “missed you a lot, actually.”

affection flooded her eyes, “i missed you too, lan.”

“i got you this,” lando fished into the drawer next to the couch, pulling out a small golden bracelet, with four stars on it.

god, he was perfect.

“thankyou, it’s beautiful.” lily murmured as she sat down next to him on the small sofa.

“pretty bracelet for a pretty girl.”

“you’re so cheesy,” she laughed, letting his hands delicately wrap the jewellery around her wrist.

“ah,” he shrugged. “you love it.”

yes, yes she did.

-

as soon as their hotel room door was shut and locked, lando was insatiable. hands grabbing hungrily, lips pressing to her soft skin, teeth grazing her sensitive neck.

“fuck, missed this so much.” lando mumbled into her lips as he blindly walked her backward into the bedroom.

this, not you, this.

lily thought that maybe he missed her, as in her body, but when her eyes momentarily flitted to the dainty bracelet on her wrist, she realised that maybe he actually missed her, as a person, not a body.

“missed you so much, pretty girl.” he murmured as he gently placed her down on the bed, immediately crawling on top of her and kissing her delicately.

“missed you too, lan.” she responded quietly, her mind still a little disconnected from what was going on.

“hey, hey,” lando cooed softly, snapping her out of it.

“hm?” she tilted her head gently.

“what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh?” he asked, tracing his index finger over her jawline.

“not much,” she smiled softly, shaking her head. “just you.”

he smiled at that, because in some way it was actually true. he smiled and pressed his lips to hers again, and it felt like heaven. the way he kissed her, it was like he��d poured all of his emotions and everything she’d ever wanted to hear into one, and smeared it across her soul.

“you okay to carry on?” he met her eyes as he pulled away slowly, their noses intimately brushing together.

“yeah, all good.” lily nodded, tracing soft patterns into the side of his ribcage with her fingertips.

he nodded gently, before placing these short, little, butterfly-stirring kisses to her collarbone, trailing down to the straps of her little white corset top.

lando’s gaze met her’s, silently asking for permission to remove it, earning a quick nod from her. he effortlessly lifted her back to unclasp the mechanism, before tossing the garment carelessly behind him.

the fact that she wasn’t wearing bra made his kisses a little more firm, as he sucked a soft hickey into the valley of her breasts. within a few seconds, one of her nipples was in his mouth, sucking on it delicately and swirling his thumb around the other.

lily whined out softly as her body began to tingle, warmth spreading to her lower tummy.

“open your mouth,” lando instructed from her boobs, not even looking up at her to see that she immediately obliged when two of his fingers moved toward her lips. “suck.”

her pretty mouth wrapped around his index and middle finger, swirling her tongue around them slowly. he groaned into her breast, the vibrations making her hairs stand on end in the best way humanly possible.

“‘atta girl,” lando praised, before pulling them from her mouth, and alternating nipples between mouth and fingers.

muffled whimpers left her lips as she bit down on her lower lip, and the sound caught lando’s attention.

his gaze darkened as he flicked his stare up to her face, “don’t try and hide how good i’m making you feel, lily.”

that alone made her release her bottom lip, her breath hitching at the look in his eyes — something was different, it was darker and hungrier than usual, but the softness of his touch never wavered.

lando could tell she was getting impatient by the way she squirmed underneath him, her body arching up into his mouth as he sucked a darker hickey into the underside of her left breast, pinching her nipple gently at the same time.

once he’d overstimulated her chest, hot-open mouthed kisses were pressed down to her abdomen, where his hands grabbed at the denim skirt wrapped around her hips.

the way he kept eye contact with her as he effortlessly popped the buttons she’d spent ages trying to get done up off, was so hot.

after mindlessly launching her skirt somewhere behind him (could have been out of a window for all he cared), he nipped at her inner thighs, teeth grazing over her skin.

lily’s hips keened toward him, pushing up a little — to be quickly pinned back down to the bed with a tut.

“no, no, baby.” he bit his lower lip as he stared at the visible wet patch on her underwear, and the slick leaking onto her inner thighs.

she mumbled a quiet, “sorry,” and let him press a kiss to her clothed core, which practically vibrated at the feeling of his lips so distantly close.

“good girl,” he praised, “you’re gonna let me take these off, aren’t you, darling?”

“yeah, yeah.” she panted softly. “please, lan.”

“there she is,” he said lowly. “my pretty girl.”

within an instant, her underwear had been flung across the room, and lando’s lips were wrapped snugly around her clit, with one hand splayed across her lower tummy and the other toying at her entrance.

with his head buried between her thighs, she grabbed at his hair for purchase as he traced his fucking name with his tongue. he pressed the tip of his index finger into her, flicking her bundle of nerves harshly with his tongue.

her eyes rolled back into her head as she moaned loudly, and she tried to arch her back up instinctively, only for it to be blocked by lando’s large hand.

“lando—” lily whined, tugging at his soft curls. “fuck… so good—”

he groaned into her pussy, unable to resist the urge to push his long tongue into her, his nose bumping against her clit as he kept her flat to the bed.

she was pathetic, her fingers carding through his hair as he ate her alive, eyes rolling back into her head as the vibrations from his groan shot through her.

his head shifted back to her clit, not letting up as he softly circled it with his tongue. lando pushed her legs a little wider, before sliding his middle finger inside of her with little to no warning — which made it all the hotter.

he was like a man starved, lapping and sucking at the liquid seeping from her and coating his chin and nose. she clenched around his singular finger, only for another to be crammed inside of her relatively soon after.

the way he curled his fingers to just tap against her g-spot was delicious, his movements increasing along with the frequency of his name tumbling from her lips.

“yes— lando, god baby…” lily moaned out, eyes squeezing shut as she felt the knot beginning to snap. “fuck, so close— gonna cum…”

“go on, pretty.” he murmured into her, sucking her clit just that little bit harder to send her insane.

her thighs shook and slammed shut around his head, tummy clenching so hard she thought her internal organs were being compressed. her orgasm was intense, earth-shattering some might say. her toes curled and hips bucked away from him as he kitten-licked her through it, relishing in the juices that dripped from her heat.

lando gazed up her blissed out expression, affectionately kissing her lower tummy before crawling back on top of her.

“hi,” he smiled mischievously, their faces so close.

“hi,” she laughed softly, leaning up to capture his lips in a brief but soft kiss. “sit down, baby.”

he nodded, pulling away and plopping down on the bed next to her. lily climbed onto his lap with shaky legs, sitting down right on his throbbing erection, only for her to have to shift off of it a little due to her sensitivity.

he was the one to lean in this time, holding the back of her head with one hand and her lower back with the other. their lips connected, and it grew into the sloppiest, sluttiest kiss on the planet.

tongues entwining, teeth brushing against each other, saliva mixing intimately — it was all just so hot.

he bucked his hips upward to her, trying to get some sort of friction on his turgid cock.

within a minute or so, his shirt was off as so were his jeans, discarded somewhere in the room with the rest of lily’s clothes. she stayed on his lap, deciding to tease him a little.

her hand reached down and grabbed him, lifting her hips above him. lando’s eyes widened at her boldness, before fluttering shut as she ran him through her soaking wet folds. her hips jerked as the tip bumped against her clit, but she quickly began to circle his cock around it, stirring some magical sensations inside both of them.

“fucking hell,” he groaned, his head pressing back against the headboard. “gonna get yourself off on me, baby?”

“uh huh, god i can’t wait to fuck you,” she breathed out, moving her hips in time with the movements with the tip of his cock.

the fizz of her previous orgasm made it very easy for her next one to build up quickly, buzzing in her lower tummy. the throbbing of his cock on her clit didn’t help either, her orgasm was tantalisingly close, and lando could tell too.

so, to help her out, with no warning, he pushed two fingers back inside of her pussy, curling them perfectly to slam against her g-spot. she instantaneously came at the feeling, clenching around him as her hips collapsed, his cock sliding out of her folds and slapping back up against his abdomen — unfortunately not downward and inside of her.

ignoring the need to rest, lily slid down his body, and much like lando, she slipped his cock into her mouth without warning. he hit the back of her throat, just tapping it hard enough to make her gag around him.

she squeezed his balls softly, bobbing her head slowly as he gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail, tugging at it for her to go faster.

“fuck— need you to go faster, lils.” lando groaned, to which she obliged. “mhm… just like that, ‘atta girl— so close… fuuuuck.”

the previous feel of being so close to fucking lily had made him a goner, his balls tightened up and his breathing deepened, taking on a quicker pace — he was so close.

euphoric.

that’s all lando could have described it as, because the moment she swiped her tongue over his tip, that was it. he came with a guttural groan, his red, angry cock shooting out sticky ropes of thick cum, the hot liquid trickling down lily’s throat as she gazed up at him and swallowed.

alone, that made a final few drops of cum spurt out of his tip, splattering on her lips and chin.

he reached out and collected it onto his thumb, pushing it into her mouth, which she gratefully accepted.

she crawled back up onto his lap, letting his cock soften as she sat on his thighs, panting and pressing her head into the crook of his neck.

they stayed there, catching their breath in comfortable silence, happy to be in one another’s arms.

“okay, i need a shower.” lily whispered, nodding.

“me too.” lando agreed, before his eyes flitted up to hers. “do you want to…?”

“no funny business though, lan.” she agreed, raising her eyebrows. “i don’t think i can walk anyway.”

“i’ll carry you if you want me to, darling.”

-

i am on a fucking roll!! there are more to come very soon too :)

[grison-in-space]

... I was rolling my eyes and throwing together a list of basic shit you prep for according to your local emergency measures, and then I realized that I've been basically insulated from climate disaster since I moved from Texas to Minnesota. Wild.

This is not a statement on whether people should move, by the way. This is a reminder to think about the human toll in places trapped under "red" state authorities, which will be far less able or inclined to provide shields against abusive federal orders. It is both good neighbors and good politics to look after things like local DSA chapters to coordinate direct action and community repair, and that will probably be a piece of the dynamic in coming years.

Anyway, here are things that occurred immediately to me as likely effects of the current actions of the incumbent federal administration, based on things I've lived through and expect to live through.

several "boil water" notices, which happen if your water treatment can't be certified as safe to drink without boiling: what will you do if your water gets contaminated?

I lived in Texas through Snowpocalypse 2021, when many people lost power and basic utilities like water were disrupted in the middle of a climate emergency storm, with active pandemic raging and no vaccine available. Imagine

What will you do if you experience a really bad storm/flood/tornado/wildfire and you can't rely on government resources for things like storm monitoring, accurate disease tracking, water safety, etc.? Your plan should involve your community; for example, we transported pre-boiled water for friends whose water didn't work.

The NOAA is currently being dismantled. What are the odds that your community is going to get hit with a storm or a weather front that you currently rely on NOAA data to dismiss? (Everyone relies on NOAA data.) How else can you predict those climate change induced storms?

Currently, we have a pretty aggressive measles epidemic ripping throughout much of the US. Do you know how to protect yourself and keep yourself as safe as possible from a measles outbreak? Hint: it looks different from COVID because measles is just so goddamn infective. Measles is a pain in the ass of a disease. Sure, it mostly won't kill kids if they get it early, but it wreaks havoc on the immune system in ways we are only now beginning to understand. Children have died. So: what's your vaccine status? What is the status of your community? Can you protect the vulnerable among you? What are you going to do if measles hits the community and employers start whining about quarantine rates or back to work mandates?

It is important to think about these threats in terms of specific things that people might announce or attempt to implement, because that helps you plan specifically for your area's situation. If you don't know what that is, awesome! There's your first step. Start there.

If there is an immediate threat to you, it will come as a product of the overall risk and your particular circumstances. Politically, do you know who your chief of police is? How have they handled similar events in the past? How much experience do they have (less is probably better)? How about your sheriff, if you have one?

If there is going to be some kind of purge, it is extremely likely that those sorts of people are going to be the determining factor regarding whether it gets carried out. You will want to know what kind of person you have in the helm and what their record is on people like you as you think about your plan, yes? Is there anyone else they might target first? How would you know, and what would you do?

That's what it means to be aware of the potential catastrophic collapse of the federal administration: some of the public services that our feds perform are incredibly important things like "preventing infectious disease epidemics like COVID, which only happened the first time because Donald Trump gutted the CDC". If they are not available, if for example we no longer have weather information from the NOAA to work with, what are we going to do about that critically load bearing pillar suddenly gone from the most basic everyday functions?

I mean, show up to the local Tesla dealership and maybe harass Tesla drivers about it too, obviously. But there's shorter term stuff to figure out too, and that's way more practical than fretting about your damn bug out bag.

Been seeing a lot of folks talk about bugout bags where the context seems to be fleeing a Knock from secret police or something, and I want to gently suggest folks consider more likely reasons to bug out (wildfires, crumbling infrastructure leading to gas leaks, etc).

Make sure your bag can get you through scenarios where you are part of a mass evacuation, rather than you clandestinely leaving in the middle of the night to escape brownshirts.

I feel like thinking in this context will help folks prepare better and think beyond fleeing to the nearest border as their prime objective.

I don't like giving this regime more power than it actually has, so it is helpful to me to think about what I would do in specific scenarios. Planning for those gives me much more concrete action items, reduces my panic, and ends up preparing me better for unknown situations.

A lot of us have real fear of this regime rn, and escaping a Knock is a realistic concern.

But I feel like a lot of white, cishet, middle class folks are in oppression cosplay mode rn, and their brains aren't in a practical space for what the more likely impact to their lives is going to be.

If preparing for a Knock isn't also going to prepare you for facing sitting in traffic for 12 hours with no hotel plans because you need to evacuate a natural disaster on short notice, you should think a bit more about your risk factors and resiliency.

Vague prepping for "When shit hits the fan" means you are going to forget key items. Come up with some specific scenarios to run through and see how your kit would perform.

[slutoru1207]

No Goggles Mark x Reader

imagine Mark finds you first—but he’s not the same. And he’s not letting you go.

The world was eerily still. The kind of quiet that felt wrong.

You weren’t sure why you had stopped walking. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was that strange, gnawing feeling deep in your gut.

Or maybe it was because something was watching you.

A shadow flickered above the crumbling rooftops. You barely had time to blink before he landed just a few feet away, the impact cracking the pavement beneath him.

Casual. Effortless.

Like he wasn’t even trying.

Your breath hitched.

No goggles. No hesitation. Just those golden eyes locked onto yours, gleaming with something unreadable.

Then—

“Oh. Hey.”

Your stomach flipped.

Because his voice?

Way too casual.

Way too normal.

Like he wasn’t standing in the middle of an abandoned city staring at you like he’d just run into an old friend.

Like he hadn’t been missing for months.

Like he hadn’t—changed.

“…Mark?” Your voice was barely a whisper.

His head tilted slightly, his eyes flicking over you like he was trying to piece something together.

Then, just as quickly—

“Oh wow. This is crazy.”

His expression brightened—like actually brightened, a crooked grin tugging at his lips as he stepped forward.

“You’re real,” he said, almost in awe. “That’s wild. Like, seriously, what are the odds?”

Your heart pounded. What?

“I mean, you could’ve been a hallucination.” He gestured vaguely, his movements animated—too animated. “Wouldn’t be the first time. Probably not the last, either.”

A laugh—a real, genuine laugh—bubbled out of him.

And it was terrifying.

Because it was him.

But it wasn’t.

Your hands clenched at your sides. “Mark, what happened to you?”

He blinked.

Then, in one smooth motion, he closed the distance between you.

Way too fast.

Way too close.

And suddenly—his face was inches from yours.

His golden eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting just a little to the side.

“…Huh.”

You swallowed hard.

“…Huh?”

He stared at you for a beat longer before—grinning.

Like he’d just figured something out.

Like he knew something you didn’t.

“This is weird,” he mused, tapping his chin, his other hand still casually tucked into the pocket of his suit. “Like, I remember you. I really do. But the details are all fuzzy. Like a dream, y’know? Or maybe a really bad WiFi connection.”

He gave a shrug.

A shrug.

Like this wasn’t some life-altering moment.

Like he hadn’t been gone.

Like you hadn’t been searching for him for months.

Your throat tightened. “Mark—”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong.” He held up a hand, as if stopping you mid-sentence. “I know you were important. Really important. And I’m, like, 80% sure I loved you.”

A pause.

Then—

A slight smirk.

“Maybe even 85%. But, y’know. Math was never my strong suit.”

Your stomach dropped.

He was joking.

JOKING.

Like this was just some normal conversation.

Like he hadn’t just ripped your heart out with his words.

Your hands trembled. “You’re not the same.”

His grin didn’t fade.

If anything—

It widened.

“Ohhh. That’s a classic,” he said, nodding sagely. “'You’ve changed.’ Super dramatic. Very cinematic.”

He gave a mock shudder.

“God. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I’d—well, I wouldn’t need nickels. Because I can just take what I want. But still.”

A chuckle. A real, amused chuckle.

You wanted to throw up.

Your Mark—your Mark—was gone.

And this Mark?

This Mark was laughing.

Your stomach twisted. Your fingers curled into fists at your sides.

“I don’t believe that.”

He arched a brow. “Oh?”

“You’re still in there,” you whispered. “Somewhere.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

“…Damn.” His expression flickered with something unreadable, his tongue clicking against his teeth. “You’re really going with that one, huh?”

His voice dropped.

That light, teasing tone? Gone.

And suddenly—

You weren’t looking at Mark anymore.

You were looking at something else.

“I mean, I get it,” he continued, voice smoother now, almost mocking. “That whole ‘I know there’s good in you’ thing? Classic. Timeless.”

He leaned in just a little more, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“But you wanna know the best part?”

Your pulse pounded.

His fingers lifted, barely grazing your jaw.

“I don’t need to change back.”

Your breath hitched.

“I don’t even need to remember everything about us.” His lips barely curved into a smirk.

“Because I already know how this ends.”

Your heart stopped.

His golden eyes locked onto yours.

“You’ll stay.”

The words weren’t a question.

They weren’t a plea.

They were a statement.

Inevitable.

Final.

Because in his mind—he had already won.