#see this movie was never going to be good

[clovermoters]

the parenting sacrifices - dad!lando x wife!reader

summary - while your out on girls night, lando stays home with your sick daughter

warnings - none! just some fluff and kisses, no use of y/n

authors note - i actually wanna make this a little universe so send me some ideas for dad!lando because i adore him!! as always big thank u too @landopoet for reading this over and hyping me up!! love ya big time!! anyways i’ll stop talking and pls enjoy the fic !

“Are you sure you're going to be okay?”

Lando was lightly pushing you towards the door, you were dressed in a short black dress that had Lando seeing stars. Ever since the birth of your daughter, lando has forced you to take a mandated night out with your girlfriends once a month as a break from your motherly duties.

Tonight was one of those nights.

“Yes, Josie and I are going to be just fine, go have your fun.” Lando assures you.

Your three year old daughter has caught the viral head cold that's been circling her daycare. Carlos had warned Lando that his son, Mateo had recently gotten the same bug, since the two toddlers have been in daycare together since they were in diapers.

Lando helps you with your heels and pushes your leather clutch into your hands. He gives you a light peck on the lips “go, have fun, we will be okay.” you melt slightly into his lips before you spin around making your way out the door to meet your girls parked downstairs.

Truthly lando was slightly nervous to be alone with Josie since he’s never been on his own when she was sick. He waltzes into the living room to find his daughter, dressed in her formula 1 jammies that McLaren gifted your family for her third birthday. She had Cars, her favourite movie, playing on the tv while he was bundled underneath a mountain of blankets. Battling a fever and stuffy nose.

Lando ‘rounds the couch, plopping himself down next to his daughter. Josie immediately snuggles into Lando's arms, not taking her eyes off the super agent race cars on the flatscreen in front of her.

“You hungry missy?” Lando asks, “Mama's gone for tonight so it's just you ‘n me.” Lando looks down into an identical set of eyes and a replica head of his own curls. When Josie was born, you were over the moon to find out your daughter had the same eyes you fell in love with. As she got older and her hair grew into a messy head of curls, you were ecstatic.

Josie weakly nods and Lando presses a kiss to her forehead. Before going to the kitchen to heat up some pasta.

Once the movie had finished, and Josie's belly was filled with Landos delicious pasta, your mothers recipe. Lando had decided that an early bedtime is what Josie needs to beat her sickness. Running her a bath to try and keep her fever to a minimum. the girl giggled at her father making funny faces while washing her hair.

Once Josie was clean and in a fresh set of pajamas, Lando read her favourite story and gave her medicine to help her sleep with her cold. Giving a kiss goodnight before making his way to his room, heading in to wait for your return home..

.ೃ࿔ ⌂*:･

Lando was in bed watching a cheesy movie you’d told him he would enjoy. He was hardly paying attention, distracted by an instagram reel Carlos had sent him. since Mateo had come down with the same sickness as Josie, the fathers have been in contact swapping tips while their wives are out with each other, probably discussing how their husbands are getting on with the sick toddlers on their own.

Lando senses the light patter of feet making their way towards his door, he tosses his phone onto the sheets, making his way to the door, finding his daughter sleepy-eyed, holding her blankie sniffling. her eyes were red rimmed with tears.

“Daddy” is all she whines out, lifting her arms mumbling a quiet “..‘uppie” . Landos heart squeezes at his daughter's pain, scooping her up, Lando presses a kiss to her temple, her forehead hot to touch, “Aw josie, still not feeling good baby?”

The three year old pushes her face into Landos shoulder, he cringes slightly as the snot rubs into his skin. He hates when Josie is sick, especially when you aren't here to help, he knows he is capable of taking care of Josie, he also knows Josie needs her mom to lie on top of.

“It hurts” she cries when Lando places her onto the bed, switching the movie he had on, to cars

The sacrifices of parenting

Lando let Josie use him as a personal pillow, the girl sprawled out on his bare chest while she picked away at the popsicle she sweet talked her way into getting.

Lando routinely checked in on Josie's temperature, her fever remained stubbornly high resulting in a cranky three year old.

While Josie's eyes were fixed on the tv, Lando snuck a picture of your daughter snuggled to your husband's bare chest, just like when she was a newborn, sending you the picture with a quick update. you giggle reading the contact lando had set himself years ago.

[attached image]

most smexy husband EVAHHH: her fever won’t break, but we’ve got cars on and popsicle running through her veins!! see u soon xx

you aww’d at the photo tilting the screen to show rebecca who was sat next to you in the booth.

“Stop it, Carlos sent me the same thing an hour ago! Look what I did!” she gasped, you giggled at the girl while she pulled out her phone, turning it on to show you her wallpaper. an almost identical photo of Carlos and Mateo shined from the device.

you pouted at the sweet picture, finding it funny how your race car driver husbands, who this time in their twenties would be in a club partying together, are now at home nursing their sick toddlers.

Hearting the picture and sending a quick reply to your husband. after quickly copying Rebecca and setting the picture as your lock screen, you continue your conversation with the girls around the table.

you: aww, my loves! Almost done here and i'll be on my way,

Lando had smiled at your reply, Josie still tucked in his chest. Her blinks became slower as lightning mcqueen crossed the finish line. Lando rubbing the girls back while he breathing evened out.

Lando turned off the TV, pulling the sheets over Josie letting sleep take over, small breaths fanning across his chest as Lando held his daughter while she slept, smiling softly at her peaceful state.

You quietly entered the house, you were met with dim lights that Lando purposefully left on for you. Your home was silent apart from the light hum from the air conditioning unit, you slipped your heels off. Carrying them upstairs before lightly pushing the door to the master bedroom open.

Your heart melted at the sight of your favourite people sound asleep in your bed. Lando had one hand protectively around your daughters back while she slept peacefully next to him. You quietly readied yourself for bed, puttering around your room careful not to disturb the two sleeping.

You changed into sleep shorts and one of Landos shirts, slipping into bed next to your family. Once you were under the covers, lando stirred slightly at the dip in the bed.

“Heyy..” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. He reaches out to place a soft kiss on your forehead as you move Josie to rest in between you two. The girl tosses at the adjustment but lets out a big sigh as she gets comfortable again, her sleep undisturbed.

You and Lando giggle at her dramatics “that's all you” you joke before turning to place a quick peck to his jaw.

Lando smiles, reaching an arm around your waist as you let sleep pull you under. Lando thinks he wouldn't want to spend his nights any other way than right here, surrounded by his wife and daughter in the home they’ve filled with love, surrounded by the quiet nightlife of Monaco.

It doesn't matter what chaos tomorrow will bring, lando will always enjoy the quiet moments like these the most.

ೃ࿔ ⌂*:･

ok anyways sorry that this is BAD but thank u oh so much for reading <3 see u soon!

[purplesaline]

The car running down kids in the road is a faulty analogy. Drivers are already responsible for making sure they don't hit pedestrians, regardless of age.

A better analogy would be a bartender at a club that has someone at the door checking ID to make sure minors aren't admitted. It's hardly the fault of the bartender for serving drinks to a minor if the person at the door failed to make sure they were old enough. The bartender was under the reasonable expectation that only adults were going to be in the club. Likewise if a patron shared their drink with a minor that's hardly their fault either.

Parents don't have to be watching over their child's shoulder every second they're online. There are plenty of tools that can help keep kids in kid safe areas for one thing. For another they should be having discussions with their kid about why it's important to avoid adult oriented content and be available to answer questions about those topics that kids might have so the kids don't feel like they have to seek out answers online to sate their curiosity. It's also important for parents to teach their kids warning signs to watch for so they can recognize when they're engaged with content not meant for their age group.

The reality is we are not responsible for protecting your children. We didn't sign up for that, we didn't agree to that and we aren't even getting paid to do it. If we're being responsible and keeping our adult content to adult oriented spaces, or clearly marking it as adult oriented material, then we've done our die diligence. If we were posting smut in the Neopets forum you may have some ground to stand on with your "think of the children!!" argument but as it stands all you're doing is fighting for a Puritan internet and I'm never going to agree with that. The Puritans have never been good for my particular intersection of identity after all.

So many of you seem to forget that kids aren't stupid. They're impulsive absolutely, but they aren't dumb. TEACH them why this stuff isn't good for them to be seeing at their age. TEACH them that fiction often violates boundaries that real life never should. We already know that violent video games and movies don't turn kids into murderers and D&D doesn't turn kids into Satanists. Reading smut isn't going to ruin their lives either, and if it did the problem went a lot deeper than them finding and reading some smut online.

Fanfiction literally cannot "normalize" anything. Fanfiction is a weird little niche and fics are not something with massive cultural impact.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I WISH I WAS YOUR GIRL

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: you don't know why dazai has suddenly become so standoffish with you the last week—there's something that everyone isn't telling you, but you can't even bring yourself to make that your biggest concern. you're just so at your limits with the back and forth with him that you can't concentrate on anything else. mishima is hosting a ball is this evening and you think that this is it: if things are going to happen between the two of you, it'll be tonight or it'll be never. you can't wait forever on someone who's just going to string you along the rest of his life. you won't.

(wordcount: 6.3k; fem!reader, sfw but a bit of tension, angsty)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: hihihihiiiiiii guys ^.^ happy friday. we've gotta angsty fic for tonight. i fear this one does not end happily but TRUST the universe does <33 but angst is necessary to move the plot forward. the price you pay for a happy ending is an angsty path there. specially dedicated to my beloved sophie who hates angst <33 happy birthday luvr

You are severely unhappy.

You finished getting dressed almost an hour ago, but you still haven’t left your room. You��re sitting at your vanity staring at yourself—you’ve changed your jewelry three times already, and you’re about to change it a fourth. It’s not that you’re not satisfied with how you look, it’s more that you’re just frustrated and fidgety.

More than that, you’re upset. Dazai hasn’t spoken to you in a week, and you don’t even know why. It has something to do with the incident that happened a week ago with the child called Kyusaku, but you’re not sure what because you don’t know what was real and what was concocted by the child’s ability after you were affected by it. 

As much as Dazai likes to pretend to be aloof and unbothered, he’s easily worked up by small things, and he’s been upset with you before, but never like this. He’ll usually sulk where he knows you’ll see him and wait for you to ask him what’s wrong so he can use the opportunity to guilt you into watching a shitty movie or going out to buy him snacks. 

But this? Radio silence. He came up to your apartment once when you weren’t here to do his laundry and was gone before you got back. You don’t even know where he’s been staying, because you went looking for him at the shipping container and he wasn’t there. You don’t know what happened. You guys were good, more than good—you really thought that maybe the two of you were making progress past this awkward more than friends, not lovers stage, but now it’s back to square one. Worse than square one, because at least at square one, he was still talking to you.

A low whistle comes from the entrance to your room and you raise your eyebrows as you look up in the mirror, catching sight of Chuuya leaning against the doorframe, head tilted to the side as he observes you. He’s already dressed up—out of his normal outfit and in a sleek black suit instead, he looks different without his hat, but you don’t even have it in you to make a teasing comment about it. You can’t help the disappointment that clogs your throat at the sight of him: you’d still been holding out hope that Dazai would show up. 

“I forgot how nice you cleaned up,” Chuuya murmurs. “It’s been a minute since we attended an event together.”

You turn in your seat to face him, eyes roving over his form once before you say, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without your hat. I almost thought you might be balding beneath it.”

Chuuya instantly rolls his eyes as he pushes himself off the door frame to make his way over to you. You give him a simpering smile as you look up at him, but you can tell it doesn’t reach your eyes from the way he frowns at you. He reaches out to straighten the necklace you’re wearing and then holds a gloved hand out to help you up, ever the gentlemen.

Even though it’s unnecessary, you still take it and sigh as you rise to your feet, smoothing out your dress once you’re upright. You look up at him and ask, “I take it you’re the one escorting me tonight.”

“Don’t sound too pleased,” Chuuya replies dryly, holding out his arm for you. You sigh as you hold his bicep loosely, making your way to the elevator. “He still hasn’t talked to you?”

“Not once,” you answer bitterly. “I thought for sure he would get over whatever his problem is to be my escort tonight, but I guess not. I don’t even know what happened, Chuuya. I feel like people just aren’t telling me something.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your gaze is cutting to the side to observe Chuuya’s reaction. He grimaces instantly and averts his gaze, and you take in a deep breath, realizing you hit it right on the nail. What the hell are they hiding from you? You know now isn’t the time to get into it, but you make a note in the back of your head to do some snooping as to what really happened during the incident last week. 

“Interesting,” you say, just to let Chuuya know that he needs to work on his poker face. He catches the implication and sends you a scowl, but you only raise your eyebrows at him with a small smile, waiting for the elevator to come up to your apartment. “He’s not coming tonight at all then?”

“No, he’s coming,” Chuuya corrects absently and the smile on your face freezes.

“Is that so?” you ask tightly. “Who is he attending with then?”

Chuuya gives you a long, knowing look as the elevator gets to your floor, holding it open and waiting for you to step in before joining you. You’re tense as you wait for his answer, and you know he’s getting back for the balding comment with how long he’s taking to give you it.

“No one,” he finally says, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Jesus, you’re so embarrassing—get yourself together. Who the fuck would actually be his date? No one wants to get within ten feet of him.”

You give Chuuya a withering look and then reply primly, “I would.”

“The entire Mafia knows that,” Chuuya says dryly, making your face hot. “You make me sick.”

“Likewise,” you scoff and pointedly look away from him. After a few seconds pass, you ask, “Are you sure he’s not bringing anyone?” 

Chuuya groans. “What would it even change if he does?” he asks, which does not settle your nerves at all. “You’re just going to work yourself up thinking about it.”

“It changes whether or not I’m going to have Akutagawa Ryuunosuke on standby to eliminate a potential threat to Dazai’s life,” you say with a sweet smile. “Assassins come in many forms, but most frequently in dates at big events. We shouldn’t take that risk with our most valuable executive, naturally.”

Chuuya’s jaw drops as he fully turns to look at you. “Sometimes, I wonder why you like that fucked up bastard so much, and it’s only very rarely that I’m reminded that you’re just as evil as he is.”

“I’m kidding,” you complain, waving him off. Although, now that the thought is in your head, it’s becoming increasingly more appealing. “I think.”

The elevator doors slide back open and Chuuya holds his arm out for you again. You take it, lifting your hand to wave at Hinata, an older man who's been working with the Port Mafia since longer than you’ve been alive. He ran with Hirotsu in the Black Lizards before he was hurt on a mission and put on desk duty—you stole him from Mori when you came back from Kyoto. On paper, he’s just your doorman, but he’s helped you a lot with mission planning the past year and a half; you honestly contribute half of your success to his experience.

“Good luck tonight, hime, Nakahara-san,” Hinata says as the two of you make your way out of the building.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and toss your head to the side to look back at him with a smile. “Hinata-san, you should come and be my date instead of this bum.”

“Why am I always catching strays from you?” Chuuya scowls, but you ignore him as you flutter your eyelashes at Hinata, who only laughs at you.

“I’m far too old for that to work on me, hime,” Hinata replies. “I’ll have the scout reports from Sapporo ready by the time you get back tonight.”

“My hero,” you sing. “Thank you.”

You wave at him one last time before leaving the building with Chuuya. As soon as you’re out of sight, your smile drops and Chuuya gives you a concerned look, stopping before the two of you can get in the car so he can turn to look at you head on.

“Do you think he’ll show up with someone to spite me?” you ask quietly. 

You know Dazai—he doesn’t like feeling wounded, so when he does, he lashes out tenfold. He gets cruel and vicious, and because he’s Dazai, he knows exactly what to do to make people hurt more than he does. You don’t know what you did to upset him, but it has you on edge now because it will hurt if he shows up with someone else, knowing that you were waiting for him back at your apartment.

Chuuya says your name quietly, and because it’s not an immediate ‘no’, you know that he knows that Dazai might very well stoop that low to hurt you. You swallow thickly and look away—it’s fine. You’ll act unbothered, you have an appearance to keep up and that’s more important than anything. And anyway, it’ll hurt him even more when he doesn’t get the reaction he wants from you.

“Hey, look,” Chuuya says, forcing your attention back on him. “Dazai’s being a fucking dick, alright? But what else is new? You look beautiful—make him regret that you’re not coming in on his arm, yeah?” 

You smile softly and look away before saying, “It’s unnerving when you’re sweet.”

You don’t have to look at Chuuya to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. You hear him open the car door for you and sigh as you look back over to him.

“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go.”

———

As always, your entrance is something to marvel over. It never fails to be the highlight of the night, and it’s only more of a spectacle when you enter on the arm of Nakahara Chuuya. 

Lingering looks in your direction, wary stares in his—you’re grateful that he came to escort you, because if you’d come alone, you would’ve swarmed with suitors as soon as you got down the steps. Chuuya is not quite as much of a deterrent as Dazai would’ve been, if only because Chuuya won’t actually kill someone in the middle of Mishima’s ball and nobody can ever be sure of what Dazai is capable of, but his presence and reputation will keep unwanted annoyances away for most of the night at least. 

By the end of the night, they’ll get more desperate for a conversation, and only Dazai and Mori himself are capable of keeping them away from you at that point, unless Chuuya steps up his game, of course, but he has as much of an appearance to keep up as you do. You’re not looking forward to it—your eyes keep darting up to the ticking clock, knowing each passing second draws closer to suffering. 

You didn’t even want to come tonight. You weren’t going to come, you’d gone to quite the lengths trying to fake being sick, and you thought you succeeded until Mori messaged you this morning telling you that you could either come to the event or go deal with Shikibu Murasaki’s little stunt in Sapporo that has your biggest weapon supplier backing out on your next shipment. Since he knew very well you didn’t want to deal with that, the only option was to come to the ball—someone must’ve ratted you out to him, but you don’t know who. You almost think it must’ve been Chuuya, because Dazai hasn’t spoken to you in over a week.

You still haven’t seen him, which you suppose is a good thing because if he was going to shove in your face that he came here with someone else, then he would’ve done it by now. You aren’t even sure if he’s here; you’ve tried to keep an eye out for him, positioning yourself in a way that your gaze can always stray to the edges of the room in hopes of catching sight of him, but you haven’t seen him at all in the three hours that you’ve been here.

You’re standing with Chuuya and two of Mishima’s daughters now. Noriko keeps trying to shift closer to you, lashes fluttering and lips curled up into a soft smile. Usually, you would entertain the girl—she’s pretty, and at the very least, makes for entertaining conversation, which is more than you can say for the rest of the Sun and Steel upper echelon, but you’re so occupied with Dazai that she can hardly hold your attention for more than a few seconds.

“I haven’t seen him at all tonight,” you say quietly when Mishima himself comes over to your small group, a stern expression on his face as he beckons his daughters over before giving both you and Chuuya an apologetic look. “Have you?” 

“No,” Chuuya says, taking a sip of his champagne as he leans against the wall. “I know he said he was coming though.”

Your expression twists in annoyance as you take in a deep breath. Your glass is empty, and usually, there are people circling to keep them full—your old mentor always used to warn you not to fall for the trap. The hosts of events always like to liquor up the attendees; drunker you are, the looser your lips, and you’re usually quite careful to keep it to one drink and never finish your second.

Tonight, you are on your fifth. Dangerous work, because you’re still going to have to entertain people when they inevitably start coming up to you—which is any minute now, you can feel the lingering stares and you can see how people are creeping closer. But you’re just so bothered by everything with Dazai that every time you finish a glass, you’re seeking out the next to try to numb your nerves.

“You know something,” you accuse quietly, giving Chuuya a cold side-eye. He stiffens, but neither confirms nor denies, which is a confirmation in itself. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I can’t,” Chuuya says tightly, and you raise your eyebrows because you expected him to say ‘it’s not for me to say’ like he usually does when he feels like you should hear something from someone else. He can’t, does that mean… “I just…”

“You can’t because you’ve been ordered not to,” you realize, face shifting in confusion. “Mori ordered you not to. What happened during the incident last week, Chuuya?” 

The expression that crosses Chuuya’s face is haunted, and it makes your mouth dry, because what the hell happened and why is no one telling you the truth? You don’t even get the chance to badger him about it, because Noriko and Michiko are coming back over, both of them looking incredibly displeased by whatever their father said.

“He’s so annoying,” Noriko complains, immediately clinging to your arm and resting her head against your bicep dramatically. “You two are so lucky that you don’t have parents to helicopter you like he does.”

You and Chuuya immediately exchange a look at her words, and even Michiko cringes a little, but you otherwise don’t react beyond just trying to not roll your eyes. These girls are so out of touch with reality that it’s almost concerning, but they, more than anyone else at this event, have loose lips that you like to take advantage of.

“No,” you sigh lightly, “I only have Mori. Somehow, I feel that’s worse.”

Noriko giggles like you’ve said the funniest thing in the world, and you miss Dazai desperately. At least him being here would have Mishima’s daughters acting a little more subdued, would maybe even chase them off. You don’t like how they act around him because you know it used to bother him, but you’re not gonna complain when you could be benefiting from it if he wasn’t being an ass.

She starts to say something else, but before she can, Chuuya’s eyes shoot open as he looks at something behind you. You instantly straighten, turning your head to follow his gaze and your breath catches when it lands on just who you thought would draw that reaction from Chuuya.

Dazai.

He’s finally made his appearance, and you can’t draw your eyes away from him. He never gets dressed up for these events like you and Chuuya do, so he’s still wearing that same black three-piece suit he wears every day, just without the dark trench coat he usually wears over it. He’s leaning against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest and a cold expression on his face as he stares in your direction. He doesn’t meet your gaze, but he does stare at where Noriko is clinging to your arm, lip twitching in irritation; Noriko seems to notice too from the way she lets go of your arm and tries to casually shift away from you, an annoyed look on her face as she does.

You hear her let out a noise of disgust, side-eyeing in Dazai’s direction, and you raise your eyebrows at her pointedly. You know that it was directed toward Dazai’s sudden appearance, but you’re not about to sit here and let that slide, so you turn a cool look onto her in response. Noriko instantly looks down to the ground, an ashamed look crossing her face—not for the disparaging attitude toward Dazai, but for being obvious enough for you to notice it.

You feel a bit more tense now as you force your attention off of Dazai back to Chuuya, who exchanges a short look with you before pointedly glancing over to where one of Mishima’s newer executives, Ibuse Masuji is whispering with one of his colleagues, looking in your direction a bit too frequently for comfort. He’s going to come over and ask you for a dance soon, probably around the same time Michiko starts tugging Chuuya in the direction of the hardwood floor at the center of the room—Noriko won’t ask you now that Dazai is here.

Wonderful, you think to yourself bitterly. You don’t really want to deal with Ibuse tonight, but you suppose you’ll probably get better information from him than Noriko. Noriko likes to ramble about more general gossip—who’s sleeping with who, who’s mad at who, and all of that is useful to an extent when you need to figure out what’s going on with Sun and Steel internal politics, but Ibuse has loose lips about more meaningful matters, and you’ve heard some nerve-wracking rumors about the Red Chamber recently.

The things you do for the Port Mafia. 

You straighten your necklace, gaze lifting to Chuuya again as you withhold a sigh. You can see Ibuse starting to make his way across the event hall in your direction, and Chuuya gives you a pitying smile that instantly freezes as his eyes pin to something behind you again. You also freeze, because you know it could only mean one thing.

Dazai is coming over.

You raise your eyebrows at him pointedly, wanting to know whether or not Dazai’s approach is a good or bad one—if he’s coming over to finally address you, or if he’s coming over so he can more blatantly ignore you. Each one is equally possible, and the way Chuuya grimaces and shrugs only makes your anxiety spike more.

But you get your answer as soon as he arrives.

You inhale sharply when you feel Dazai’s fingers brush over your hip as he comes to stand directly behind you. You can feel his chest brushing your back, his presence warm and looming directly behind you. With his sudden arrival, the conversation happening between Noriko and Michiko comes to an abrupt halt, and you can see Ibuse freeze mid-step from where he was drawing closer to you. The two girls avert their gaze to the ground, not acknowledging Dazai, and it irritates you, they’ve never hidden how unnerved Dazai makes them, and though you don’t think it bothers him anymore, you know very well it used to. 

Your throat spasms when Dazai’s hand settles more firmly on your hip, and you turn your head slightly to the side to look up at him, breath catching when you find that his gaze is already lidded and focused on you, visible eye far too dark and tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Dance with me,” Dazai murmurs, only for you to hear.

“You want to dance?” you ask, a bit incredulously, trying not to be hyper-focused on how he’s touching you. You don’t know what has gotten into him, but it has your heart racing. “Dazai, what-”

“Dance with me.” 

It’s not a request, you realize, taking in a sharp breath as his gaze becomes more intense. You can feel curious eyes on you from around the room; it’s to be expected, it’s you and Dazai. Of everyone here, the two of you always have the most eyes on you at all times, but it’s different now. 

Dazai usually keeps to himself during events, he wanders up and down the length of the room, keeping to the edges to observe what’s happening unless he’s looking for information from someone. He really stays true to his moniker, a black wraith haunting the shadows and keeping everyone on edge. You can’t remember the last time he willingly stepped out of them to interact with people, much less engage in things like dancing.

“Okay,” you agree quietly, not even bothering to look back at your previous companions as Dazai’s hand slides from your hip to your lower back, guiding you to the hardwood floor where several other couples are already swaying along to the music being played by the quintet in the corner of the room. “What’s gotten into you?”

Dazai doesn’t answer your question, looking down at you from the corner of his eye for a moment before looking back ahead. He doesn’t have to search for a spot on the dance floor—as soon as people realize that’s where he’s headed, they’re quick to leave a wide berth for the two of you, no one wanting to get too close to the most infamous Port Mafia executive.

Your heart races as he leads you to the center of the hardwood floor. Though you can feel dozens of eyes pinned on the two of you, all you can focus on is him. You can hardly breathe when he turns to face you, one hand resting on your hip while he holds the other out for you to take. You swallow thickly as you place your hand into his. He entwines your fingers with his instead of the traditional palm-to-palm, and he pulls you toward him so that your chests are brushing. You’re so close to him that you catch the faint and familiar scent of smoke and iron and it makes you dizzy.

Distantly, you know that this probably isn’t smart. If people think that you and Dazai are together, it will only be harder for you to get information from them. They’ll be wary around you in fear of him, and you’re not even sure if your ability will be enough to counteract the anxiety he triggers in people. You shouldn’t be risking that just for a dance, but…

But you can never think straight when he’s around, even less when his skin is warm against yours, and the way he’s looking at you… His dark eye is heavy with so many emotions, too many for you to even place a single one—you’ve always been good at reading people, but never him, and now, more than ever, you wish you could. You want to know what he’s thinking. You want to know what he’s feeling. You want to know him, because as much as you claim you do, you know that he masks himself from you. You want to ask him again—what’s gotten into you? Why have you been avoiding me? But you think it’ll scare him off, so instead, you ask:

“When did you learn to dance? Today?”

He’s better than you thought he would be. He effortlessly spins you across the dancefloor. Each step is quick and precise—you’ve had training in this type of dancing, but you still struggle a little to keep up with him. Though, you think it’s less because of your own skill, and more because of who exactly your partner is.

“What makes you think I haven’t known how?” Dazai drawls, voice low and languid, dark eye glittering with amusement. His grip on your hand tightens just a little as he pulls you into a half-spin. He presses when you don’t immediately respond, “Hm?” 

“Because you’re you,” you finally answer with a fleeting smile. “So? When did you learn?”

“Tonight,” he tells you. “I’ve been watching them.”

“Hah,” you say—of course he’s this good just through observation. Ever the mirror. “You better not embarrass me.”

“Like this?” he asks with a smile that puts you on edge, and you give him a dirty look when he purposely takes a wrong step, forcing you to overstep in order to not land on his foot. You’re careful to make it look casual—a wider turn rather than a misstep—but with the number of eyes currently on the two of you, you know very well that people probably caught it. His apology comes in the form of an airy, “Whoops,” that you know he doesn’t mean.

His lips curl up into a smug smile, and your breath catches when you feel his hand slide from your hip to your low back so he can pull your body flush to his for the next turn. Your throat spasms as you tilt your head back to look up at him, and again, there’s that unreadable look in his eye as his eyes rove over your face. 

“Why?” you finally brave yourself to ask, voice quiet and too breathy for your liking. You don’t specify what the why is, and that’s intentional, this way he can pick what he wants to answer and won’t feel as cornered by the question. 

His visible eye narrows for a moment, and then something akin to reluctance spreads across his face, and then resignation. You wonder if he’ll answer, hardly even able to breathe as you wait for him to speak. But after a few tense moments, disappointment hits you hard, because a teasing smile spreads across his lips and you know he’s going to evade the question.

Still, your heart races when Dazai dips you down, lowering his face so that his lips brush your ear as he says, “You looked like you were bracing yourself for a bullet with Ibuse getting ready to come over. Figured I’d rescue you.”

Though the music continues, Dazai doesn’t lift you from the dip. He does pull his face back so that he can look you in the eye. He’s so close to you that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your lips and it leaves you dizzy. The look in his eye now—you almost want to dare to believe you know what it is—it’s too close to the same emotion you feel whenever the two of you are curled up on the couch watching a movie. It’s too similar to longing, yearning, the desperate need for more, the desire to be yours just as badly as you want to be his, but you don’t want to get your hopes up when you know he can crush them in an instant.

His gaze drops down to your lips and then drags back up to your face, and you know he won’t kiss you, not in front of all of the eyes currently pinned on the two of you. Not in front of Mori. It’s nice to imagine though.

“Is that really why?” you breathe out, eyes searching his for an answer.

Something new crosses his face—it’s sharp and it’s angry, something that promises violence, not toward you, but toward the one who provoked it. His gaze cuts to the side briefly in the direction of where Ibuse Masuji is still standing frozen in the middle of the event hall, staring at the two of you, and then he looks back down at you, lips tilted up into a wry smile. 

“Partially,” he says, but doesn’t give you the chance to question any further, finally pulling you up from the dip to fall in line with the last steps of the dance. 

He turns you so that your back is pressed to his chest, palm cupping the back of your hand, fingers interlaced. His free hand slides around to your abdomen, holding your body flush to his. The music slows as the song comes to an end, but Dazai doesn’t release you. You turn your head to the side and tilt your head back to look up at him, inhaling when you find that he’s already looking at you, dark hair hanging in his lidded eye as he watches you.

“Are you… coming home tonight?” you finally ask, voice soft and hesitant.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, but his eye is glittering playfully, so you know that he’ll be home waiting for you by the time you get done at the event. He always manages to leave early—no one has the nerve to try to stop him. He dips his head a bit lower, lips ghosting your ear as he says, “You should thank me, you won’t have to worry about anyone else bothering you tonight.”

He finally lets go of you, your arms fall limp to your side and your breath is a bit too shaky for comfort. He tosses a wink in your direction before shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way back toward the outskirts of the room.

And he’s right—for the rest of the night, not a single person dared to approach you.

———

Even though you’re fairly certain Dazai will be there waiting for you, you still hold your breath as the elevator doors slide open to your apartment. Your feet are aching, you hardly got a chance to sit once during the night and you’re ready to curl up on the couch and watch a movie. 

As you step into your apartment, you can’t help the way your heart drops when you don’t immediately see him, and you especially can’t help the relief that spreads through you when you realize he’s lounging on the couch, out of sight from the angle you entered at. At once, you can breathe again—you’ve missed him the past week, more than you ever could’ve imagined.

“Hi,” you say quietly, coming to stand at the foot of the couch.

Dazai shed his black waistcoat, his shirt is untucked and his tie is loose around his neck, head resting on the far armrest as he looks up at you with a lazy grin that lights your nerves on fire.

“Hi,” he echoes. “I picked a movie.”

“A good one I hope,” you tell him with a small smile. “Let me go get changed.”

You turn on your heel to make your way up the steps to your bedroom, but before you can get to the staircase, Dazai speaks up again, “Can you even reach the clip?”

You hesitate as you glance at him over your shoulder. You technically can, but… “No,” you reply, and then lie, “Chuuya helped me get it on.”

Dazai’s lips flatten, but he does push himself to his feet to follow you up the stairs. You spare a glance behind you, catching the hard expression on his face as he stares at your back. You raise your eyebrows at him and it instantly washes away, replaced with a teasing smile as he raises his right back at you. You squint at him, but shake your head as you reach the top of the stairs, stepping into your room. 

When Dazai steps in after you, you swear the temperature in the room rises. 

You turn to look at him, and he tilts his head to the side idly, dark eye dancing with amusement as he slowly approaches you. He looks a mess with how his shirt is untucked and his tie is loosely hanging around his neck, hair tousled from laying back on the couch—he looks a mess, and you’ve never wanted him more.

You’re sick of the back and forth with him—it’s been a year and a half of it and you’re tired—you want to be his, you want him to be yours. Every time you think Dazai might finally make the first move, he ends up taking fifty steps backward for whatever reason. You don’t want to push it because you have a feeling it will only make him even more standoffish. Tonight has been more progress than you’ve made in a while—if you and him are going to happen, it’ll be now or it’ll never happen. Your pride won’t allow you to chase and pine for any longer.

He comes to stand directly in front of you and you think he wants you to turn around, but just when you’re about to, he gives you a sharp smile that instantly has you on edge, and then he lowers himself to his knees in front of you. Your lips part in shock, heart beat stuttering in your chest.

“We should get these off first, right?” he hums, reaching down for the clasp of your heel, knowing damn well the effect he’s having on you from the smug expression on his face. Although you can’t help but notice that his eye is darker than usual, pupil blown wide as he undos the clasp and slides your heel off. 

“Right,” you agree breathily, lashes fluttering when you feel the pads of his fingers press against your ankle as he places your foot back down on the ground before shifting to do the same for the other one.

This time, his throat bobs nervously and his fingers fumble over the clasp. When he finally gets the clasp off, he looks up at you through his lashes as he slides your heel off, but he doesn’t rise to his feet right away once he sets your foot down. Your fingers twitch at your side to reach out and brush them against his face, but you refrain, if only barely. 

After what feels like an eternity, Dazai finally rises to his feet, and he’s standing all too close to you. You can feel the heat of his body, you have to tilt your head up to look at him and when you do, you can feel his breath against your lips.

“Turn,” he murmurs.

You swallow thickly as you do as he asks, and your breath audibly catches when you feel his fingers brush the nape of your neck as he shifts your hair out of the way. You expect him to tease you, but you realize his breathing is almost as unsteady as yours is, you can feel each puff against the back of your neck and it has your hair on end. Your lashes flutter as Dazai slowly unzips your dress, the cool air of your room stark in contrast to the line of fire left behind with each brush of his fingers against your spine.

When he gets the zipper all the way down, he doesn’t move away, hands settling on your hips as he hovers behind you. You think your heart might race right out of your chest, head foggy and unsteady on your feet.

For a few long moments, neither of you speak.

And then, you make a terrible mistake.

“Why have you been avoiding me the past week?” you ask quietly, desperate for some sort of answer as to what happened between the two of you that made him go cold on you like this. His grip on your hips tightens, and you instantly want to eat your words. “Dazai?”

He doesn’t even deign you with a response.

Your heart is lodged in your throat when you feel his hands drop from your hips and his presence leaving from behind you. You’re cold, your body is, your heart is, and now you really are unsteady without his hands to ground you. You whip around to face him, knees wobbly as you call after him again, but you don’t chase after him—not this time. Bitterly, you think you’ve spent the last year and a half chasing after him and all you ever get in return is him running away.

You watch him disappear down the steps, frozen in place because how did one question ruin everything. For the first time in weeks, you thought you were actually making progress with him and just like that, it’s back to square one. You feel like you don’t breathe until you hear the elevator arrive on your floor, signalling that he’s left.

“Shit,” you breathe out shakily, sitting back on your bed and burying your face in your hands. You can feel all of the champagne you drank earlier in the night threatening to come up and your head feels light. You fumble for your phone, clicking on a familiar contact and gasping his name as soon as he answers the call, “Chuuya?”

“Yo,” you hear him ask, concerned. “You good? Aren’t you with-”

“Can you come over?” you push out before he has the chance to say his name. “I just-I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep waiting. I can’t-”

“I’m coming,” Chuuya tells you when your words cut out into a sob. God, you can’t remember the last time you cried like this. Your whole body aches as you pull your knees to your chest and rock yourself back and forth trying to calm yourself down. “I’ll be there in five. I’m coming.”

You told yourself before that it was tonight or never, and you’re done waiting for him. No matter how badly it hurts to force yourself to move on—you’re done. 

You have to be, for your own sake. 

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug like angel

You're here, that's the thing

You woke up the next day.

You were on the fancy velvet family couch you were never allowed on.

The couch was where every movie night, every game night, and every family hangout would happen.

The same ones you'd never be invited to.

You looked up to see Bruce and Miguel sitting in the pristine, white dining room arguing over something.

They lowkey looked like a divorced couple fighting over the ustody of their child.

You let out a giggle at that thought.

You got up and tried to stabilize yourself, still healing from the stab wound from yesterday.

You had a runny nose and a slight sore throat from the rain yesterday.

You hated your spidey luck sometimes.

As you got closer to Miguel and Bruce, you could make out some of their argument.

"She's staying with us, it's for the best," Bruce said, crossing his arms.

"Since when do you decide what's good for her?" Miguel argued, standing up from the seat he was sitting on.

"I am her father. I decide what's best for her," Bruce said, still keeping a straight face.

"you haven't been a father to her at all." Bruce flinched slightly at Miguel's words.

Miguel continued, "You were never her father. You were nothing but a sperm donor." Miguel put his hand on his hips, his bold red eyes piercing into Bruce's blue ones.

"When were you when she needed you? Where were you on her birthday? Where were you at her performances and concerts? You don't know anything about her." Miguel slammed the table in front of him, and Bruce's neutral facade faltered.

"I am still her father. we are blood." Bruce raised his voice.

"The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

Miguel and Bruce were now full-on arguing.

A full-on screaming match.

You decided to intervene, you just wanted to go home.

"What's going on?" They both couldn't hear you, and you saw Miguel about to flip the expensive dining room table.

You weren't against him breaking anything Bruce owned, but that table cost way more than Miguel could afford.

You ran up to him "Hold on a minute, please won't you listen?"

They both stopped to look at you.

Bruce spoke up "Are you doing better now, sweetie?" You cringed at the nickname he gave you.

"I'm fine. What's going on?"

There was a tense silence for a moment.

"C'mon, spit it out. I wanna go home." You put your hands on your hips, copying Miguel's stance

"You're going to stay with us," Bruce said, his piercing blue eyes glaring at Miguel.

"What?! You can't do that! Dad, tell him he can't do that!" you pulled on Miguel's sleeve like a tall child

Miguel looked and you and looked away guiltily.

"Dad? What's going on? Tell him he can't force me to stay!" You were tearing up.

You didn't want to stay.

You didn't want to be back where everything went wrong.

You didn't want to see everyone play happy family while you sat in a corner sobbing.

"I'm sorry, but you're 16 and can't legally stay with me. I'm so sorry, arañanita." you tried to suppress your tears, only for them to all spill out when he hugged you.

You felt like a child.

"This isn't fair." your lip slightly trembled.

Bruce put a hand on your shoulder which made you flinch and push his hand away.

"Don't touch me." you shrunk into Miguel's arm more.

You hated being here. You just wanted to go home.

"Can't we agree on something else? Like maybe one week each person, or something?" you tried to reason

Bruce raised an eyebrow "What do you mean?"

"I mean like, one week with with Miggy and another with you. Wouldn't that be easier?"

Miguel was about to agree with you when Bruce interrupted "No."

"Why not? Everyone would be happy!" You tried to reason

"Because I'm your father and that's final."

You rolled your eyes at that.

"What?! That's so not fair!"

"life isn't fair." Bruce started practically pushing Miguel out the door.

You started clinging onto Miguel by his leg, you didn't want him to leave.

It took your father and your brothers to separate you and Miguel.As soon as Miguel left, you

ignored your family's offerings to hang out with them.

You were in your room, still sulking about what happened.

You were texting your friends everything.

You heard a knock at the door and tried to ignore it.

You weren't in the mood to talk to any of them.

After a couple of minutes of knocking, Bruce got impatient and let himself in."Why didn't you open the door?"

"I didn't feel like getting up." You kept texting your friends, not even looking at him.

He took a seat on the edge of your bed. "Look, since you're already here, why not go out? We could go to that one, uh, museum you wanted to go to a while ago." You glared at him.

"I asked to go there years ago. My friends already took me there."

"Oh, is there any other place you'd like to go? or anything you'd like to do?"

"I want you to go away. I'm sick and you just pulled me away from my friends." You kept scrolling on your phone

Bruce sighed and left your room.

Next to annoy you was Dick.

You were in the kitchen trying to get a snack when you heard his agitating, grating voice.

"Hey, baby bird!" He was going to ruffle your hair, but you swiftly avoided it due to your spidey senses.

"Don't call me that." You continued to look for your favorite snack.

"Why not?" he playfully pouted

You started giving up hope on finding the snack, it wasn't anywhere! "Because I said so."

He saw you were struggling to find something. "What are you looking for?"

"Nunya." you crossed your arms and started looking in the fridge.

"look, if you're hungry, we can go to that one restaurant you wanted to go to! How does that sound?" he smiled.

"I asked for that years ago. I already went there with Miguel anyway." You walked away into your room not caring how dick was slightly frowning.

You were in your room fixing your belongings.

If you're going to be forced to live here up till you're 18, you might as well make everything look nice.

While you were organizing your closet, your spidey senses went off.

You turned around to see it was warning you about the door, and suddenly Jason barged in.

"Get ready, I'm gonna teach you how to ride a motorcycle."

"No thanks, Jess already taught me." You continued to fold the clothes

"Who's Jess?" Jason raised an eyebrow

"A friend. Look, can you just leave me alone? I want some alone time."

"I'm your older brother, you can't kick me out of your room." He crossed his arms.

"Except I can. Get out." You started pushing him out of your room, your strength surprising him.

Tim was in his room when he remembered about that one time you asked him if he could fix your computer.

You accidentally gave it a virus downloading Sims mods, and it was tweaking.

Tim was the most tech-savvy person you knew, so you asked him.

Unfortunately for you, he was working on a tiring case.

He was in a bad mood and half-asleep, so it wasn't a surprise when he yelled at you to go away.

Sure, it had been 2 years since then, but he still felt bad.

He made his way to your room, noticing how separated it was from the others.

When he got to your room and opened your door (you seriously need to get a lock) he saw you were face timing one of your friends and laughing.

He cleared his throat and your smile fell.

"I'll call you back later, bye Pavi!" you hung up and looked at Tim "What do you want?"

He smirked "Wow, so hostile. Do you still need me to fix your computer? I have time now.

"You rolled your eyes. "it's fine now, peni fixed it for me."

"Are you sure? I could probably add an upgrade or two, or maybe get you a new one?" He put his hand on his neck

"Yes I'm sure, you can leave now." You shooed him away with your hands and started calling Pavitr again.

Tim scoffed and walked away.

Last but not least, Damian.

He was always a headache.

Ever since you were younger, it's like he was out to get you.

He wouldn't ignore you or push you away like the others, instead, he would threaten and berate you.

No matter how much you tried, he'd always go out of his way to push you around.

You learned to stay out of his way.

You assumed he would still hate you, so you continued to avoid him.

It was surprising when he walked up to your room and demanded you to watch him train.

Not wanting to get stabbed by him, you begrudgingly agreed.

You were being escorted into the training room and saw a chance to practice your moves.

While he wasn't looking, you snuck away to practice your tricks.

It was the perfect place to do it as well, huge gymnastics area, rock climbing walls, and hurdles.

You were having the time of your life!

After around 10 minutes you noticed Damian looking for you, with Dick helping him.

You sighed and continued practicing.

Your way of swinging and moving was Heavily inspired by Gwen and Pavitr's, all the spider kids trained together so it wasn't much of a surprise.

After training for a couple more minutes, you noticed Dick and Damian had found you.

Dick was surprised you knew how to be that flexible and have a lot of movement and personality in your tricks.

As soon as you sat down to take a water break, Dick and Damian ran up to you.

"Where did you learn how to move like that? did you do gymnastics?" Dick sat down next to you, only for you to scoot away.

"No. I learned from Pavi." You took another sip of your water

"Was he the one who came to the manor last year? The punk?" He took a sip of his water

"No, that's Hobie." you got up and walked away, ignoring Dicks other questions.

Dick just sighed in defeat and watched as Damian ran after you.

Damian would not leave you alone.

The whole way to your room, he was complaining and berating you.You tried slamming your door in his face, but he fought back.

Suddenly you were trying to push him out of your room like the others and he pushed a bag of yours onto the floor.

After a couple of minutes of you both tumbling around, he finally left.

You let out a sigh of relief and went to pick up the bag.

Once you picked it up you noticed it felt a slight bit heavier, less empty.

You grabbed what was making it so heavy and noticed it was a watch.

The watch you needed to move universes.

Miguel must've snuck it in there while dropping you off.

You put it on, and right as you were about to go back to Miguel's universe, your spidey senses went off yet again.

You quickly turned off the watch and pretended you were playing on your phone again.

This time it was Alfred.

You assumed he was going to scold you for fighting Damian yet again.

You prepared yourself only to be met with something you didn't expect.

"The others are expecting your presence in the theater room."

Movie nights.

The same movie nights you longed to be a part of years ago.

This time, you didn't want to be part of it.

"No thanks, I'm busy." You continued to scroll on your phone.

"You must've misheard me. They're requiring your presence." Alfred walked away before you could argue.

You sighed and put on some slippers.

This was gonna be a long two years.

hi ik rhis chapter is sloppy and rushes BUT THIS TIME I ACTUALLY HAVE EN EXCUSE

i typed all od this at a wedding lmfao

yeah rheyre mareying the love of their life but im updating a fic so whos really winning

anyway

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!): @bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213 @sirenetheblogger @awawage @holybatflapexpert @vanessa-boo @ryuushou @whiskeygirl7 @seemeee3 @inojinieeee @oliviaewl @djpuppy-kittens @w31rd3rg1rl @br33zy-blizzardz @eyeless-kun @strangelymid @twismare @cat-lover-over-9000 @jaemindontberude @galaxypurplerose @paastaboi @senhoritaapple @whiskeygirl7 @chezze-its

[heaurtbeatings]

can you pretty please write something about schlatt absolutely loving on the reader during foreplay and then railing the shit out of them?? maybe with a breeding kink 😝😝?

i’m squirming in my seat at the thought of it lmao

- angel 💙🪽 (@babies-blues)

MILES CRASHING BY ME

in which schlatt adores cumming inside as much as he adores you. . or, requested by the wonderful angel

author notes ; this took me forever due to me forgetting how to write, i apologise, but!! this is my first proper piece of smut i’ve written since 2020! thank you so much for sending this in, mwamwah

773 words . afab / female reader . minors do not interact, i am not responsible for your media consumption! porn without plot . breeding kink + teeny bits of praise . unprotected piv .

Schlatt’s hands steadily travelled down your sides as he took in your figure, splayed out on his bed and in your favourite pink panties. He was a creature of habit when it came to having his touch on you all the time, from constantly pressing his thigh against yours to holding pinkies. What could he say? He never cared for subtlety when it came to showing his affection towards you.

“You’re gorgeous.” He muttered as he spread your legs apart to situate himself between them, the weight of him leaning forward causing his knees to sink into the mattress. “And you’re mine, huh? All mine.”

You gently nodded at his words, lidded eyes staring down at him with such content. You took in the way his lips moved as he spoke with sincerity. You adored when Schlatt loved on you like this, how he reminded you of his devotion to you. His touch always remained tender and slow as he handled you with care. The gentle movements of his hands rubbing circles against your skin, the goosebumps that appeared whenever he spoke against your skin in a hushed tone —— You couldn’t deny that Schlatt had you easily wrapped around his finger whenever he treated you like an angel.

“How’d I get you in my life, let alone my bed, hm? Must’ve done some real good shit to have someone like you be in love with me.” He murmured against the plush of your inner thigh, his fingertips slow as he trailed them against the hem of your panties before lifting your hips to slide the lacy fabric down your legs, leaving them loose by your ankles.

He kept his voice low, moving with a gentle pace as he leaned in closer to kiss his way up to your clavicles, then all the way up to the pulse in your neck, savouring the sensation of being able to feel your heart beat fast through your skin.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered against your lips in between soft kisses. He took his sweet time with you, cupping your face with his large hands. “Always so beautiful.. Gonn’ show you how much I mean it, how much I love you.”

You let out a shaky breath as you grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling him down to kiss him feverishly. You could hear your heart pound loud and hard in your ears as you pressed your tongue against his, panting openly against his mouth with a type of desperation you’d only ever see in the movies.

“Such a handsome man, fuckin’ me so good” You slurred out, a mixture of your and his spit heavy on your tongue. “Doin’ so good, god—Keep goin’ like this and ’m going to make a mess.. ”

His moans became strained, your slur of encouragement leaving his head fuzzy with the need to fuck vulgar, to leave your cunt stuffed full of him. The buck of his hips fastened, his large fingers digging into your hips sure to leave a bruise as he clutched onto you as if you were going to disappear from his fingertips.

“S’close, come on big guy..” you choked out, the words barely escaping your throat as your hips pressed flush against his, your pussy tense around his dick. “Come with me, yeah?“

You gripped onto his shoulders, your legs tightening around his hips as you rode out your climax. Sweet moans escaped from you, hips faltering and eyes refusing to leave his gaze.

“You’re gonn’ be the death of me, sweetheart.” His hot, unsteady breath lingered near your cheek, his pace failing to come to a slow as he cursed his way through his orgasm while you pulsed around his cock, still sensitive from your own.

The two of you stared at each other, Schlatt running his fingers through your hair before planting kisses throughout your face. “You’re something, y’know that? My girl full of my cum but is lookin’ at me so pretty.” He whispered, tone full of adoration.

[redjaybathood]

That's probably because deep down you are tankie-adjucent or just not that good at judgment, maybe your own colonial past influences things, but you don't want to admit it. I recognise this manner of talking over Ukrainians ✨ for our own good✨ or ✨for the fairness ✨ , completely disregarding the current dynamics or how russia utilizes it's culture as a tool of imperialism and colonialism.

But Idk, I'm not your therapist or your priest. Face your idiosyncrasies yourself. Do some soul-searching. Read some Ukrainians. Idk.

I speak two Slavic languages, freely read another, learning yet another: believe me, speaking a Slavic language doesn't make you a tankie. Scaremongering and spreading pro russian misinformation about Ukrainians does, tho, depending on your motives

Where did I say it's good or bad for Ukraine? I said I will not support anyone who does learn russian in our god's year 2025, voluntarily, because it's fun, like I wouldn't support anyone voluntarily walking into a gas chamber because they have a kink for asphyxiation. But that never happened, and people are really learning russian and sometimes even proudly so.

Am I, a Ukrainian who spoke russian before they ever heard a word of Ukrainian; who grew up surrounded by russian language - at home, on the streets, in school, in books, TV, radio, movies; who grew up being told that I'm a russian because Ukraine doesn't really exist, but also that I am less than russian, because I am not really from russia, that I am from small russia, which makes me lessser than the true russian; that if I want to speak Ukrainian, read Ukrainian, watch a TV show in Ukrainian, I'm at best laughable, a village person, but I'm probably a Nazi and should be shot for my language of preference; I, someone who lived under russian occupation where people disappeared for just wearing wrong colours, much less speaking the wrong language; I, who is living under russian terror of rockets and Shakheed drones - and I am the lucky one, I'm far away from the front line, it's just won't help me to get even one night of sleep because my city under attack daily; am I allowed to feel a certain way about this, or do I need your permission?

And I dunno about russian breeds being cancelled. Maybe you are talking about Caucasian Shepherd, restricted because it is categorised as a dangerous dog, long before 2022 or even 2014 (but be for real, nobody cared about Ukraine in 2014). It's restricted by Belarus, too - what rusophpbia is this??? That's sarcasm if you don't get it.

I do know about cat and dogs shows that allow russian breeders to participate, giving them publicity and new clienttele. Like here, 2023, Geneva, World Dog Show: https://www.onlinedogshows.eu/Content/Catalog/v2.8/#/menu/breedDogs/ru/2548/2847

You can go look through the full catalogue, I spent literally 5 seconds to find the first russians:

What long dead Ukrainian poets mistaken for a russian - except someone like Hohol, who was misappropriated as russian and never was a poet to begin with? And yeah, his surname never sounded russian. It sounded more like a slur on Ukranians if anything. What poets with russian sounded surnames cancelled? Unless you mean canceled as in killed by russia for, despite the surnames, not being russian like Mykola Zerov?

Or, from recent examples, Maksym Yemetz, or Oleksii Bezpaltzev, Yevhen Ponamoriov, Maksym Kryvtzov? And more, and more, and more: See for yourself in the "Nedopysani" project, to remember every poet and writer russia cancelled, permanently, for not being russian, for not speaking russian, for not writing in russian

What the actual fuck, really. Like, what?

there's literally no justification for giving people shit about what languages they've chosen to learn btw. some of you might not have dealt with it the same as i have, but it's been an annoyingly consistant theme in my life.

[salsakiyoomi]

sukuna had been gone for ten days.

he won't answer his phone, he won't answer his texts, you even tried to send him an email — yeah, no use.

by the tenth day, you were starting to feel less worried and more angry.

that's when he finally came knocking at your front door.

it was a random tuesday night when you were crying your eyes out at an angsty romance movie when a series of knocks came at your door.

quickly, you wipe away your tears and you head towards the door, creaking it open slightly to see who it is.

a gasp escapes you at the familiar sight of the tattooed face of your stupid, stupid boyfriend.

you swing the door open and before he could get any words out, you drag him in by the collar of his shirt and slap him across the face.

stunned is an understatement.

if anything, sukuna is thoroughly dumbfounded — sure, he knew you were feisty, except, he never thought you'd throw hands, especially as sexy as you did just now.

“where the hell have you been?!” you yell at him, but he's still flabbergasted, with his hand on his cheek where you had just slapped him.

“sukuna.” you growl, and he knows that he’s in trouble.

“sorry, something came up.” he says under his breath, rubbing his cheek.

holy hell, you sure knew how to throw a slap.

“really?” you huff, an angry scowl on your face at the audacity of his curt and vague answer, “that's all you have to say for yourself after ten whole days of being MIA?”

“look, baby, i'm sorry —” “i don't want your apology! i want an explanation! i called you, i texted you, i even sent you an email and you never responded!”

sukuna feels something close to guilt and maybe even…joy? because wow, were you really that worried about it? how flattering.

“i just had a deal going on.” he mutters under his breath, knowing you're going to reprimand him for it.

“what?” you utter out, “a drug deal?! seriously, ryomen? again?! you promised me you quit that shit!”

“it was a good deal, okay?!” he responds, starting to feel frustrated now, “and i needed the money.”

“you could've asked me for money!” you tell him and he scoffs, “yeah, like you're any less broke than i am.”

“sukuna.” you warn and he shakes his head, avoiding your gaze.

“look, i'm sorry, okay?” he says, “it was a moment of weakness.

“yeah, like all of the other times?” you ask sarcastically, “get out.” you add, pointing at the front door of your dorm and already ushering him out.

“oh, come on.” he chides, using the tone that he knows makes you weak, and looking at you with those stupidly convincing red eyes of his, “i said i'm sorry baby, okay? i won't do it again, i promise.”

“you stress me out, ryomen.” you huff, crossing your arms.

“i know,” he says smoothly, “i won't do it again, for you.”

he knows he's let you down again. in his history of fuck ups, this was probably one of the worst — breaking your trust, again.

and yet, he knows you'll always come back to him, forgive him and coddle him — just like you always do.

there was no denying that you were weak for him.

“....fine.” you mumble, “but if you do it again, i'm breaking up with you.”

“yeah yeah, i know.” he chuckles, his hands at your hips, “i won't.”

“good.” you huff.

he hums in response, leaning in to kiss you to make you forget about everything he's ever done and he practically feels the way you melt into the kiss, sinking into his touch as he caresses the soft flesh of your hips.

he was a manipulative piece of shit and he knew it, but if it meant having you under his touch? yeah, he won't give it up.

you bite on his bottom lip and he groans, pulling you closer.

after a moment, he pulls away, the both of you gasping for air.

he smirks, “i can tell you miss me.”

“shut up.” you huff and he chuckles, his hand sliding up to caress the back of your neck and pull you in closer.

“i'll hit from the back tonight if you let me.” he whispers in your ear and you blush, slapping his chest.

“ryomen!” you exclaim and he laughs, “come on, baby. don't you miss me?”

before you even get a chance to respond, he's hauling you up and carrying you to your bedroom.

sukuna's a manipulative piece of shit who probably has nothing better to do than play around and break hearts — he doesn't get attached.

and no matter how many times you threaten to break up with him, he knows you'll always stay.

he was just that good.

[trashmouth-richie]

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ eddie x female reader | casual? yeah, casual | 18+ smut

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ grocery store coworkers au where eddie and reader meet, become friends and it’s casual…so very casual. a kiss, a high feel up, shared cigarettes and christmas presents? casual very very casual….

You spent well over an hour primping and fussing over your hair. Hunched over in your tiny vanity mirror meticulously plucking your eyebrows, and smudging the perfect amount of eyeliner on your eyes for tonight. 

Tonight... the night that you had a real date with Eddie. 

The two of you had been seeing each other casually. A single kiss after a night of beer and darts with his friends, an occasional feel up over clothes behind the dumpster when you were both really horny after smoking a joint during your break at the grocery store.

But other than those two.. maybe three, minor.. teeny tiny little hookups, you and Eddie had never truly been on a date. 

You told him you didn’t care, that what you had now was fine, that you were both still getting over bad relationships. Him with Chrissy and you with Billy. After all that’s how you got close to begin with. 

A smoke break during a late night stock shift, you might have been a little too vulnerable, might have been the raging hormones from your monthly visit, but all it took for the tears to start was unloading cases of Billy’s favorite beer and you were losing it. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go take my break..” Eddie announced cigarette already in his mouth as he leaned into the cooler, “whoa, you okay?”

You looked at him with tear stained cheeks and wet lashes, “huh? no mm fine.”

Eddie knew better. He comforted you after dragging you up to the roof, and waited in silence for you to tell him what happened. 

He nodded along as you told him everything Billy had done, the yelling, the screaming, the fighting. Punched holes in doors and finally a bruise on your cheek that made you pack up and leave him for good. 

You cried and wept into his shoulder as he rubbed your back. He was quiet for a while, and you started to apologize for ruining his break, he opened up about his own bad luck. He said that he had been single for over a year and he still couldn’t get over his ex. That he found her screwing around on him in their bed when he came home from work. 

“So we’re both running away from something, huh?” 

“Oh no, I sprinted.” You both laugh and you wipe your nose with the back of your hand.

And from that night of spillage of guts and admissions of not being okay— you and Eddie grew to more than coworkers at a barely-making-minimum-wage grocery store. 

He started showing you his favorite music, and you showed him your favorite movies. Casual. Casual. Casual. 

Sharing cigarettes and salty chips on lunch, casual. Rubbing vaseline on Eddie’s chapped lips because he refused to own a tube of chapstick, casuaaaal. 

Silly Christmas presents of a more ‘manly’ solution for chapped lips being a small jar of carmex from checkout aisle 8. He had gotten you a copy of his favorite tape, and a handwritten coupon for a free oil change in exchange for a container of those oatmeal chocolate chip cookies you had brought for the potluck last month. Casual with a capital ‘C’. 

It was a laid-back, more than friends but not dating, sort of ‘thing’ you had with him, and you were comfortable with that. 

But tonight was not casual, tonight was it. He asked in his nonchalant sort of ‘Eddie charm’ way, coming up behind you while you mopped up a mess of spilled milk. 

Wanna go for pizza? 

Sure, when?

Tomorrow night. 

Alright sounds good, I’ll ask Dustin if he wants to go. 

No, be ready at 6 o’clock, I’ll pick you up for our date. 

Date?

Date. 

That’s all he had said before shooting you a wink and walking away, whistling. 

The tables were turning on this whole ‘casual’ thing and 

your stomach flipped with excitement at the thought of it. 

Sonny’s Pizza Parlor was hardly a fancy dive but you could care less. When Eddie came to pick you up, he knocked on the door wearing his black leather jacket and a light wash of denim jeans, his eyes went wide when he saw you in a simple yet attractive, black denim skirt and silky scarlet blouse. 

“Wow,” he blushed, “look at you.” 

“ ‘s too much isn’t it? I can change.” 

Eddie held your wrist as you tried to turn back into your house to put on something a little more relaxed. 

“No no no, you look beautiful,” he said, his dark eyes full of hunger “seriously I— damn, sweetheart.” 

Your cheeks heat and he leads you to the van, hand in yours, his thumb rubbing your knuckles, letting go to open your door, but lacing your fingers together once he started driving. 

The pizza was good, and the beer even better. The conversation was always easy with Eddie and tonight it wasn’t any different, but you noticed his cheeks burning bright and his lips seemed to be soft despite him licking them, like he had actually been using the carmex you had gotten him. 

Something about the way the red lamp shade from the overhead light looked on Eddie’s hair made him look almost ethereal. As if you had been wearing a dark shade of glasses before, and tonight was the first time you had actually gotten to look at him. 

He popped his thumb into his mouth to lick off a dollop of pizza sauce and cheese grease and you nearly climbed across the table to suck it clean for him. The corners of his mouth were begging for your lips, your tongue. His neck held muscles you weren’t aware one could have. And you watched with wet panties as he swallowed each slug of beer. Your pussy bobbing and pulsing along with his throat. 

You were affecting him the same way. 

When the atmosphere in the parlor got humid and you grabbed a menu to fan your face, Eddie watched with drool pooling on his tongue as your blouse fanned open just a tiny bit. Showing a peek of cleavage from a valley of tits he had only felt through a collared work shirt when he was stoned. 

He adjusted himself as discreetly as he could in a tight pair of jeans. Flipping his aching cock up into his waistband, nearly coming when you perched your lips into a soft ‘o’ to blow on a piece of pizza. Jesus Christ. Time to leave. 

It was early when you stepped into the fresh air outside of Sonny’s. Eddie paid before the waitress could hand him the bill, and you were thankful, even more thankful that you were wearing black so the little spot you’re sure you left on the chair was covered up. 

Casual was out of the window. Gone gone gone. 

Eddie didn’t play any music on the way back to your place and honestly the tempo of any sort of music would have your already hard nipples ripping through your shirt. You had never been this worked up before. Not with Billy, not with anyone. 

And Eddie was the same. 

Small talk was non-existent as he pulled behind your car in your driveway. But he let you decide how the night went as you practically drug him inside. Thank God your bedroom was on the main floor, thank God you didn’t have a roommate or anything to trip over because once you both crossed over your welcome mat, your needy hands were on each other like magnets. 

“Eddie,” you purred as his eager mouth left your lips stinging and buzzing to kiss the juncture of your neck, “fuck.” 

“Yeah?” He choked out against the column of your throat, hoisting you up in his arms as you maneuvered your skirt higher, pressing you flush against your front door, “Like that? Didn’t think I’d make it through dinner, so fuckin’ pretty.” 

“Should have done this sooner,” you breathe between silky sweet moans, “needed you sooner, but now is good, now is.. now is great.” 

He laughs at the base of your throat before sucking gently, adding his teeth like he was sucking juice from a peach. “been wanting you for a long time baby.” 

You’re clawing at his shoulders to shove his leather jacket off, your mouths stay connected as he starts to work the buttons on your blouse carefully. “How much do you like this?” 

“Like what?” you ask in a blissed out haze from the taste of Eddie’s lips on your tongue. “You? What you’re doing to me? Yeah I like it a—”

“No, this…your shirt— fuck it, I’ll buy you a new one.” with one harsh yank, Eddie rips your top open, buttons scattering and pinging all over the floor like a Yahtzee game. 

He looks at you for any fear of being too much but you are just as hungry for him as he is you. 

The pair of you stumble to the bedroom— because that’s exactly what it was, there wasn’t any grace in the way you were trying to unthread Eddie’s jeans and simultaneously get that goddamn jacket off. Your shirt is discarded somewhere on the back of the couch, or the shoe rack, you didn’t really look at where you had tossed it. 

He peels your little pointed toe boots from your feet and nearly trips over them and his own before going into what he thought was your room but was the enclosed back porch. 

Eddie laughs into your chest as you point him towards your bedroom like a captain at sea. Your bed is made for the first time ever, dresser drawers are shut properly. You’re sure he wouldn’t care about the mess that is your sock drawer inhabiting mostly mismatched pairs and holey singles that you just can’t convince yourself to throw away.

You wiggle down from him to finish your attempt at unbuttoning his Levi’s. When you were both high and feeling eachother up it was only over clothing but you still remember the girth he housed in those boxers and the solid feel of his chest beneath your fingertips. 

“Eddie, holy hell,” you squeal, with wide eyes. He’s tangled behind his shirt and you work his boxer briefs down to his ankles, “you just carry this thing around all day?!” 

“What,” he asks after nearly suffocating in his crisp white shirt, his hair staticky and a mess, “my dick?”

Your hand wraps around him and gently tugs and jerks his velvet skin, your thumb brushing over his head and painting his precum all over it. “Yeah, your dick, wow.” 

He’s groaning and grabs your elbow to stop you, “d- shiiit, don’t, mmm, don’t do that, I’ll fill your hand in about 3 seconds.” 

“Noted,” you say with a wicked flash of your teeth, as you unhook your bra and let it fall. 

“Baby, baby, baby…” he moans, placing his hands on each boob to act as a holder, “these are fuckin’ perfect, skirt off, now.” 

You spin so he can unzip you, taking the opportunity to rub the fat of your ass along his shaft, and he groans again, stopping to move your hair from your neck and kiss his way to your shoulder and back again. The skirt falls, revealing a tight pair of cheeky lavender silk panties, a matching set to your bra. 

Eddie smiles wolfishly as you turn your head to catch his reaction, he licks his lips as you playfully bite your finger, “these stay on.” 

Liplocked, the two of you make it to the center of your bed. Before you can even reach for him Eddie has you on your back caging you in, a serious look on his face. “How long have we known each other?” 

“Seven… no eight months,” you pant beneath him, “but does it really matter at this point? We’re both naked.” 

“Yeah,” he admits, kissing your sternum and lightly licking, “You’re right, it doesn’t…yet it does.” He keeps his mouth on your skin, kissing and sucking and biting and teasing over each of your breasts, loving your little noises. 

“I want you to know I’ve wanted you for seven or eight months, but I knew you weren’t ready for me, or for this.”

You want to object, want to tell him he’s wrong and that you could’ve been fooling around for those months but he cuts you off before you could even begin. 

“You weren’t baby, and that’s okay. I waited, patiently. Well— not counting the time on break where we felt each other up like teenagers,” you both laugh lightheartedly but he continues, making a snail trail of his tongue down your body. “The thing is, I would wait for you seven or eight more months if that’s what you needed from me, I’d put on my clothes right now and leave if you told me too.”

You’re leaning up now on your elbows, watching his dark hair form a curtain around your body as he keeps going lower. 

“I know you didn’t think I knew, but before that night on the roof I could hear you crying in the cooler, or in the mop closet, and I wanted to tell you so bad that I wanted you, and how much I wanted ro wipe those tears away. I seriously considered finding whatever prison Billy is currently in and beating the shit out of him.” 

“Oh Eddie—”

“I would, but anyway, I want you. Tonight, tomorrow, as long as you’ll have me, and I promise that you’ll never cry behind a closed door while on the clock because of me.”

He sits up then, right above your clothed pussy, “no more casual?” he asks, eyes bleeding into yours, his mouth hovering over your aching core. 

Godddd this man. This perfect fucking guy who worked a dorky ass job just like you, who you could laugh with and joke around even minutes from fucking. You weren’t ready when you met, weren’t ready even a few weeks ago, but now… here with him, you’ve never been more ready for this.

“No more casual,” you whisper, keeping your eyes on him and lacing your fingers with his the little bit you could, “I just want you Eddie, only you.” 

That devil smile appears again and your body flushes with heat allover, “good girl.” 

With that he dribbles a long wet line of spit into your already soaked panties and lowers his mouth. You moan his name and he pins your canting hips in place. He runs his tongue up and down your clothed slit, smearing the wetness around and groaning when you inch your pussy closer to his mouth. 

“Mine mine mine,” Eddie moans repeatedly as his nose, lips and tongue all devour you, rubbing until your left soaked and on the verge of tears from being overstimulated. 

“Please,” you whimper, “I can’t, I can’t.” 

Eddie keeps it up, locking you down in place until your panties are wringing wet, nearly drenching your sheets. He sits up on his knees and you know it’s coming, finally, fucking finally. 

But then the rubbing continues, and you groan audibly almost pouting because all you want is to feel him inside of you. 

“Eddie, please please..” you’re babbling and it’s not even making sense, but he’s smiling stupid as his cock slides between your puffy clothed lips. 

He’s teased and taunted you enough and you’re about to tackle him to the floor and take what he’s trying to hold from you. You’re huffing in pouty annoyance and he finally gives up this game, a smile on his face that he can’t even begin to hide. 

Yanking your wrecked underwear to the side Eddie slides into your weeping pussy. Your room is filled with heated moans and slapping skin, “Jesus Christ, you’re tight.” 

Your breath is ragged when he moves and he makes sure you’re okay, peppering kisses on your knee as he pulls your leg over his shoulder. You grapple for any bit of him you can reach, settling for his hips when he releases your leg and balances his arms around your body. 

Eddie kisses you softly and rolls his hips, “you’re perfect, fuck— so so beautiful.” His lips feel like satin, that carmex really doing its job and you giggle at the thought of him applying it tonight in hopes the date would end up like this. 

The coil inside of you is ready to spring after a long drag of his cock out and your finger rubbing your clit. “m’ close.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie breathes, his hips pistoning faster, his thrusts getting sloppy, “cum for me, cum all over me.” 

You release and cry out, moaning between closed lips, your legs shaking involuntary. Eddie isn’t far behind you, kissing your neck and speaking nonsense as he pumps you full. “Shit, oh fuuuck.”

He’s out of breath and laying on top of you, his breath fanning your skin as you run your fingernails up and down his back, tickling his skin and twirling the ends of his hair between your fingers as he softens inside of you. 

Sleep washes over the both of you, and when you wake Eddie is holding you close to his chest. His lips are pressed into your hairline, arms cocooned around you like you might float away if he didn’t hold you so tightly. 

You revel in it. looking up at his sleeping form, his tattoos that wrap from his shoulders to around his ribs. He was everything and more compared to Billy. 

Where Billy was rough in bed, taking and never giving—Eddie was a giver. So much so that you wondered if his knees hurt from kneeling in the shower while he ate you out until the water went cold and you had come twice on his tongue. 

Showering at three in the morning turned out to be the best idea you had ever came up with. You washed his hair, and braided it while the leave-in conditioner sat for the suggested fifteen minutes. 

Laying side by side, he told you about his family when you asked, because you realized you really didn’t know because he never talked about them. Eddie learned that you snore, just a tiny bit, a little nasally sound that stopped once he held you close to his chest. 

The night and early morning was spent just like that, talking about the things neither of you shared with anyone else. And it was perfect. 

—

Eddie wakes to a sweet voice in his ear, a gentle kiss to his neck. “Good Morning handsome,” you whisper to him, silently adoring the way he’s curled in around your pillows, “are you hungry?” 

He smiles, knowing exactly where he was and the voice of the girl who stole his heart nearly eight months ago. “‘m starving.” Wrapping you in a hug he pulls you back to bed with him. Kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck, tickling your sides. 

Opening his eyes when he has you pinned down he licks his lip, “is that syrup? Or are you really just that sweet?” 

“Pancakes. Eggs. Sausage patties. I made them all hoping you’d like one of them.” 

Eddie grins, kissing you slow and deep, his tongue sweeping over yours in a passionate grace. “You know what they say, you make a hungry man a meal and he’ll never leave.” 

He was it for you. Stars aligning just right for the first time, and damn it felt good to be lucky for once. 

“Good,” you say back, kissing him quick and biting his lip, “because casual really isn’t my thing.” 

thanks for reading ♥️

all time tag list: @bastardstevie @dashingdeb16 @lexr86 @pretendthisnameisclever @what-the-jams

@littlebibibliophile @kellsck @emxxblog

[mymoonisgrey]

mr. steal your girl

❤︎ ໋𓈒 in which satoru’s plans to steal you away from your girlfriend work, after a while.

warnings. 18+, smut, cunnilingus, p in v, satoru’s a smart manipulator, ooc, reader is bi and had a girlfriend, polygamy. based on this ask.

wc. 4.3k

A throuple. A polyamorous relationship. Not once in your life had you ever imagined yourself in one.

You’ve been with your girlfriend for a while now, and she’s wonderful—steady, kind, patient. You’ll admit that.

But a part of you has always yearned for something else. The kind of love that feels all-consuming. A man’s presence—protective, overwhelming, the low timbre of his voice settling deep in your bones, large, calloused hands engulfing yours, that brand of devotion you only ever see in movies.

Then Gojo Satoru waltzes into your life and tilts your world off its axis.

He’s thrilling, all spark and adrenaline. Just being near him sends a rush through your veins. Those striking blue eyes pull you in, make your head spin before you can even think.

It starts as a friendship.

You meet him at a bar, introduced through a mutual friend—Shoko Ieiri, who, for the record, is the human embodiment of lesbian energy. At first, you hang out in a group, once or twice. Then, somehow, it becomes a daily thing. Eventually, you’re comfortable enough to start meeting up with him alone.

“Trust me, you should really try the taro-flavored one,” he says, sliding the boba ice cream toward you with an easy smile. “I’m a sugar expert. And sugar varies, y’know?”

You hug your torso, lips quirking. “I know it tastes good. My girlfriend likes it.”

Satoru stills. The word hangs between you, and for a fraction of a second, his smile falters—so subtly you almost miss it.

Then, his expression smooths out, his interest sharpening into something even keener.

“Girlfriend?” he repeats, slow, as if tasting the word.

You nod, oblivious to the calculations running through his mind. “Mhm! I’ll bring her next time. You can meet her.”

A million possibilities unfold in his head, different ways this could go, all of them leading to the same outcome. Because he wants you—pronto.

His fingers graze the ends of your hair, his smile going languid, lazy.

“That,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “would be interesting.”

You didn’t think much about that interaction with Satoru at the time.

When you finally brought your girlfriend out to meet your friend, the connection between the three of you was instant—undeniable. Before you knew it, you had become a trio.

Satoru was always around, whether at your place or taking you both out. He spoiled you endlessly, never hesitating to drop money on gifts, meals, or spontaneous trips. He was the perfect masculine presence—charming, dependable, larger than life. Neither of you questioned it. Not at first.

You had no idea there was a motive behind it. Neither did she.

Then, one night, he brought it up.

“You know,” he starts, casual, almost offhanded. “We could just—make this a thing.”

You blink.

“Huh?” you mutter, sitting cross-legged, leaning back on your arms. Beside you, your girlfriend’s brows knit together.

Satoru swallows—an act, you realize later. He stares at both of you with a glassy, hopeful gaze, playing it up just enough to seem sincere but not too eager.

“I like you both,” he says. “So, if you’d like… I mean, I won’t take it personally if you say no—”

“Yes.”

The word leaves your lips before you can think, your back straightening as you nod.

Your girlfriend turns to you, eyes wide. But when you meet her gaze—soft, certain—she understands.

“…Yes,” she echoes.

Satoru smiles, slow and knowing. Then he stands smoothly, gathering you both into his arms—his grip just a little tighter around you.

It was a slow burn—he did think your girlfriend was cute, but you? You were everything. He could already picture it: kids, a settled life with you, lounging together in his clan’s estate. You, as his madam.

But he was patient. He took his sweet time, gradually pulling you further away from her without making it too obvious. It started small—sitting with you more often than she did, attending to every little need you had, hanging on to your every word. Then, the gifts.

“What’s all this?” you laugh softly, staring at the orange boxes with their fancy ribbons, the velvet-lined cases. You’d never been gifted something so luxurious before.

“They’re yours, honey.” He smiles, genuine, his heart pounding beneath his chest. “I picked everything based on… what you like.”

Your heart soars, your lips curling into a smile as you hug him tightly. “I love you. Thank you.”

Satoru exhales through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. “Mmm, I love you more,” he murmurs, his voice thick with devotion. He feels your eyes drift around, searching for something else.

His brow furrows. “I got her something too, don’t worry. It’s in her bedroom. When she’s back, I’ll give it to her.”

You nod, your smile warm, though your gaze lingers on the gifts in your lap. Part of you wonders—does she get the same? You assume she does. After all, Satoru’s generous.

He is, but only because he knows exactly what he’s doing. The gift for her? A simple diamond tennis necklace—barely a dent in his pocket. Not that it matters. This is all part of the plan.

It’s been going on for months—slowly, almost imperceptibly, Satoru has worked his way into your life, taking more of your attention, making you feel more at home with him than with your girlfriend. At first, it was subtle—the way he’d help you with everything, anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. But now, you’re beginning to notice the gap widening, the emotional distance growing between you and her.

Your girlfriend is becoming… strange.

She picks fights over the smallest things now—dirty dishes left in the sink, the couch cushion being out of place, your clothes tossed on the floor. It’s like every moment is an argument waiting to happen. Her moods shift at the drop of a hat. “I’m not in the mood,” she sighs. “I don’t feel like it today.” Even her complaints about Satoru—small, unimportant things—start to irritate you.

Satoru, on the other hand, never complains. He’s there when you need him, always helpful, always attentive. He’s not the one causing problems, and he never starts a fight. Everything he does seems to smooth over the tension.

But today… Today something shifts. Satoru’s patience snaps.

You’re out running errands, leaving Satoru and your girlfriend alone in the house. When you return, you find Satoru cornering her in the hallway. His face is expressionless, but there’s an undeniable hardness in his eyes.

“Honey,” Satoru says, his voice smooth, but with an edge that cuts through the air. His gaze never wavers from hers. “We need to talk.”

Your girlfriend glares at him, exhausted. “What now?” Her tone is laced with resentment.

“You’ve been really fucking hard on her lately,” Satoru continues, his voice deceptively gentle. He crosses his arms over his chest, his posture almost predatory. “What’s going on with you?”

“Hard on her?” she scoffs, her eyes flashing with anger. “Oh, so now you’re playing the ‘knight in shining armor,’ huh? Tell me, why does everything have to revolve around you two, huh?”

Satoru’s lips curl into a tight, almost amused smile. He leans in, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

She laughs bitterly, shaking her head. “You’re always together. It’s like I’m invisible! It’s like I wasn’t even your girlfriend too— she was my girlfriend first! why are you just… swooping in like im not here?!” Her voice cracks with frustration, but her hands ball into fists at her sides.

Satoru tilts his head, his expression cool and controlled. “You’re being irrational,” he says, his tone deceptively soft. “Maybe if you treated her better, she wouldn’t feel like she has to pull away from you.”

Her eyes widen, disbelief flashing across her face. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Satoru doesn’t flinch. His gaze hardens. “I said maybe you should stop acting like a bitch towards her,” he states with calm finality.

Her face pales, and for a moment, she looks like she might explode. “Excuse me?” she whispers, barely holding back her fury. “You think you can talk to me like that? You think you can just come in here, into our relationship, and tell me how I should act?”

Satoru’s smile remains unchanged. “I’m not telling you what to do, but you’re making things difficult for her. You’re pushing her away, and it’s your fault.”

“You have an ulterior motive, don’t you?” she spits, glaring at him. “You’ve been plotting this from the start. You want her all to yourself.”

Satoru raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “Is that what you think? Really?” He takes a step closer to her, his presence overwhelming. “You’re the one who’s been making it hard for her, not me. But if you’re too blind to see that, then that’s your problem.”

She shakes her head, muttering under her breath. “I think you’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Satoru’s smile widens. “Maybe I have.” His eyes flick to the door, a silent invitation for her to leave, to walk away. “But you know what? That’s your choice.” He doesn’t wait for her to respond before he turns, walking away like he’s won.

Your girlfriend stands there, her body trembling with anger and frustration. She breathes heavily, looking at the door, before storming out without another word.

You return home, bags in hand, and freeze at the sight of your girlfriend standing outside. Her expression is clouded, her shoulders hunched, and she looks as though she’s just been torn apart.

“Hey… Are you okay?” you ask softly, approaching her, your voice filled with concern.

Her eyes flash with irritation. “Are you seriously asking me that?” she spits, shaking her head in disbelief. “You really don’t see it, do you? You’ve been so wrapped up in him, in Satoru, that you haven’t even noticed me. I’m right here, but you don’t care. You don’t even fucking care anymore.”

Your heart sinks, confusion and frustration rising. “That’s not true. I’ve been trying—”

“No! Don’t give me that!” she snaps, her voice raw with emotion. “You’ve been all about him. He’s always there, always helping, always doing for you. What about me? What the fuck do I get?”

Your eyes widen as the weight of her words settles in. “That’s not fair. You know how much I care about you.”

“Do I? Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it,” she sneers, taking a step back. “It’s like you’ve forgotten everything. Like I’m just the other option, the one who gets pushed aside because you want him. You think I don’t see that?”

“Don’t talk like that,” you say, your voice wavering, emotions thick in your throat. “I’m not choosing anyone. I never wanted this to happen.”

“No, you didn’t,” she mocks. “But it’s happening anyway. Because you don’t see it. You don’t see me anymore.”

Tears spring to your eyes, but you blink them away, fighting back the lump in your throat. “I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“Well, you are.” Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’ve already hurt me.”

Before you can respond, she spins on her heel and storms away, leaving you standing there, feeling the weight of her words settle heavily on your chest.

Inside, Satoru watches from the window, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he watches the scene unfold.

You rush inside, groceries in your arms, your mind a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. The door slams shut behind you with a soft thud, but the weight in your chest feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried. You fight to keep the tears at bay, but they burn at the edges of your vision.

Before you even reach the kitchen, Satoru is there—appearing as though he was waiting just for you. His hands are quick, steady, and gentle as he takes the groceries from your hands, setting them down on the foyer table with a careful precision. His eyes meet yours, searching for the storm brewing in them.

You don’t even have a chance to respond before his arms are around you, pulling you into his warmth.

“My heart, come here.” His voice is a soothing whisper, an easy contrast to the fury that still bubbles beneath your skin.

You crumble against him, the dam breaking, and sobs rack your body uncontrollably. It’s as if all the frustration, all the pain, all the love you’ve been withholding explodes at once. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, a steady presence, even as your body trembles with the weight of everything that’s happened.

“She’s being fucking unfair!” you choke out between ragged breaths, the words barely making it past the tightness in your throat.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate. His hand brushes through your hair, slow and gentle, as though each stroke is meant to calm the storm inside you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his own breath steady and warm against your skin.

“I know.” His voice is soft, tender in a way that makes your heart twist. “She’s not seeing it, baby. She doesn’t see how much you’re doing, how much you care.” He holds you tighter, his grip firm yet comforting. “But I do.”

You pull back just slightly, enough to look up at him. His eyes are sharp, a mixture of understanding and something darker, something protective. He wipes away the remnants of your tears with his thumb, his gaze never leaving your face.

“She’s pushing me away, Satoru. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to make her understand,” you whisper, voice raw, the weight of it all crashing down on you again.

His smile is small, but it holds a certain promise in it—a promise that makes your chest tighten and your heart race. “Don’t worry about that. Let me handle it.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the words get stuck. There’s something in the way he says it, something confident and unwavering. His hand moves down your back, his fingers brushing against your spine in a way that sends a ripple of warmth through your body.

“I’ll fix this, okay?” he murmurs, eyes darkening just slightly. “She’s not going to ruin what we’ve built. Not when we’re this close. You and me… we’re untouchable.”

You want to say something, to question him, but the sincerity in his voice and the way he holds you makes it hard to think of anything but him, anything but this—the safety, the comfort, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything could be okay again.

The thought makes you dizzy. And in the quiet of his embrace, you let yourself be swept away by the weight of his devotion.

The three of you sit on the bed, the TV playing in the background, but the quiet tension in the room thickens with every passing second. Satoru’s arm is wrapped around you, pulling you closer, while your girlfriend watches, her hand inching toward his thigh.

Satoru notices first, his eyes flicking to her before he shifts slightly, pulling you into him even more. “You’re getting ahead of yourself,” he murmurs, voice low and commanding. His touch is steady, reassuring, as if to say it’s always been you, not her.

Your girlfriend hesitates, her fingers brushing his chest, but Satoru doesn’t react. Instead, his lips find your neck, kissing you softly, purposefully ignoring her advances. Her frustration is palpable, but she pushes forward, her fingers finding their way to his lap. She leans in to kiss him.

Satoru pulls away slightly, the edge in his voice sharp as he grabs her wrist. “Not yet,” he warns, his gaze unwavering. His attention shifts back to you, his lips capturing yours in a possessive kiss. Your hands tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin, to drown in him.

Your girlfriend, still sitting beside you, looks lost. She reaches again, trying to touch him, but Satoru doesn’t let her. With one hand still on you, his other gently pushes her back. “I said no,” he repeats, his voice dark with an authority that leaves no room for doubt.

You moan as Satoru’s hand slides between your legs, slipping under your clothes to find you already wet for him. He takes his time, teasing you, while your girlfriend stares, her breath catching in frustration.

The more Satoru touches you, the more your body responds. His fingers slide inside, slow at first, but he picks up the pace, bringing you to the edge. You can barely keep your composure, his lips never leaving your skin, his movements relentless.

And then, without warning, your girlfriend’s gaze shifts—no longer hungry with desire, but with a mixture of confusion and jealousy. Satoru’s full attention is on you, and he isn’t even looking at her. She’s no longer part of this equation.

As Satoru picks up speed, his breath ragged in your ear, you come apart under his touch, body trembling, desperate for more. He pushes deeper, claiming you fully, making it clear that you belong to him.

The room falls silent except for the sound of your breathless moans and Satoru’s steady pace. Your girlfriend sits motionless, helplessly watching as the last pieces of her place in this dynamic crumble.

Satoru wastes no time, maneuvering you onto your back on the bed. His hands are rough, skilled, as he strips you of your clothes with an urgency that matches the fire in his eyes. He kisses his way down your body, his lips burning trails on your skin as he works his way lower, lower, lower.

“Look at these fuckin’ tits,” he growls, his voice low and thick with desire as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking greedily. The sensation makes you gasp, your body arching up involuntarily. You can feel his knee pressing against your cunt, the heat of him seeping into you, sending electric shocks of anticipation through your veins.

Your girlfriend, watching from the edge of the bed, stays silent, her eyes narrowed, hands clenched into fists. She’s hot and bothered, her body reacting despite the anger twisting in her chest. She’s fed up with the whole situation—tired of being the afterthought. She hates the way Satoru devours you, but she can’t tear her eyes away.

“Ng—Satoru…” you moan softly, your breath hitching as his mouth works its magic, sucking your nipple until it’s slick and swollen. His lips leave your skin with a soft, wet pop as he shifts his attention lower, his knee pressing harder against you, reminding you of how he owns every inch of your body.

He lifts your legs, spreading them wide as he moves between them, his eyes dark with intent. “Fuck,” you yelp as he finally lowers his mouth to your cunt, his lips and tongue finding your clit with practiced ease. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bundle of nerves, sucking it into his mouth as he hums with approval, the vibrations sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core.

“Pussy’s all mine,” he mutters into your heat, his voice muffled as his tongue works relentlessly. You can barely process the words as your hips begin to squirm under the relentless pressure, his grip locking you in place. Your feet flail, trying to gain some sort of control, but Satoru has you right where he wants you—completely at his mercy.

“Sat—Satoru—” you pant, your body trembling, feeling the tension coil tighter in your stomach. His tongue is relentless, his mouth working you down to the bone, and you’re losing yourself to him.

“Down, kitty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing despite the intensity of his actions. “Let me eat.” His words send a shiver down your spine, the commanding tone making your heart race even faster.

Your hands dig into the sheets, fingers curling tightly as his mouth continues to devour you. Every flick of his tongue, every gentle suck of his lips, drives you closer to the edge, and all you can do is surrender to the pleasure. His grip on your hips tightens, ensuring you stay locked in place, and you feel your body trembling, the first waves of your orgasm crashing over you.

As you’re lost in the pleasure, you catch a glimpse of your girlfriend—her expression a mixture of frustration and arousal, her eyes dark with something you can’t quite place. The tension in the room shifts, the air thick with everything unspoken. But Satoru’s focus is entirely on you, making it clear who truly holds his attention.

You’re pulled back from the edge, gasping for breath as Satoru pulls away, his lips glistening, his eyes wild with hunger. He looks up at you, his face smug but tender, a twisted combination of possessiveness and affection. “Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with satisfaction.

Your girlfriend, still sitting on the edge of the bed, watches, her chest heaving with a mix of frustration and desire. But she says nothing, the distance between the three of you growing ever wider.

Satoru’s movements slow for a moment as he looks down at you, his dark eyes gleaming with possessiveness and hunger. His thumb traces your bottom lip, tugging it gently as a lazy smile spreads across his face.

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful when you’re helpless like this,” he mutters, his voice dark and gravelly. “Can’t get enough of that sweet little pussy of yours.” He groans, his hips rolling slightly, teasing you just enough to make your body twitch. “You’re all mine, baby. No one else gets to feel this.”

You whimper beneath him, your hands fisting the sheets as his words make your core tighten with need. Satoru lowers himself, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks again, his voice dripping with desire.

“Say it,” he commands, his breath hot against your skin. “Say you’re mine. Tell me you love how I fuck you like this.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe out, your voice a mix of desperation and pleasure. “I love it, Satoru—fuck, I love how you make me feel.”

He chuckles low in his throat, a wicked grin curling on his lips. “Good girl,” he purrs. “So fucking perfect for me. No one’s ever gonna make you feel like I do, not even your girlfriend. You’re mine, and you know it, don’t you?”

You nod frantically, your hips lifting to meet his thrusts, feeling him fill you completely. His words sink deep into your mind, pushing you further into the haze of pleasure. “Yes, Satoru… only you…”

“Damn right,” he growls, his thrusts growing faster, more brutal. “I’m the one who makes you come apart, not her. Every single inch of you belongs to me now. You’ll never be able to leave me after this, baby.”

His hands grip your hips, his fingers digging in as he pulls you against him with each powerful thrust. He watches you with rapt attention, his eyes devouring you as you squirm beneath him, your body moving in rhythm with his. He groans, the sound deep and throaty as he leans down to kiss you again, hungry and demanding.

“You wanna come again, huh?” Satoru whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “You can’t get enough of me, can you? I know you’re close… you’re so fucking tight around me. You love how deep I fuck you, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “Please, Satoru, I need you… need more.”

His eyes flash with satisfaction. “I’ll give you more, baby. I’ll make you come so hard, you’ll forget your own name.”

He picks up the pace, slamming into you relentlessly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Tell me how badly you want it. Tell me you want me to fuck you raw.”

“I want it so bad,” you moan, your body trembling as you feel your orgasm build. “I want you to make me yours, Satoru. I want everything.”

With that, he groans, his thrusts growing even more intense as he drives into you harder, faster, pushing you into a state of pure bliss. “That’s it, baby,” he growls, “Come for me. Let me feel how fucking tight you are around me.”

The wave of pleasure crashes over you, your body spasming as you scream his name. Satoru follows close behind, his grip on you tightening as he fucks you through your orgasm, his own release flooding you as he grits his teeth in satisfaction.

You feel yourself being gently lifted, your body weightless in his strong, warm arms, and you’re dizzy from the overwhelming sensations of pleasure. Satoru moves you up the bed effortlessly, his chest pressed to yours as he cradles you in his embrace. His lips brush your temple, soft and tender, as he whispers, “Let’s stay like this for a while. I’ll clean you up and feed you in a bit, my love.”

You nod, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you, your body still humming from the intensity of everything. The soft comfort of his touch is like a balm for your overstimulated body, and you lean into him, closing your eyes for a brief moment.

But then, your gaze shifts, and you look around the room, your mind catching up with the reality of the situation.

“Where’s—”

“Gone.” Satoru whispers, his voice low and soothing as his lips press against your neck. His arms tighten around you, drawing you closer. You can feel his steady breath against your skin, and for a moment, everything feels impossibly right.

Your heart flutters in your chest, and you hug him tighter, the full weight of his words sinking in. Gone. It’s just you and him now.

“Finally,” he breathes, his voice soft but full of satisfaction.

for the anon that requested this, i hope its up to your liking and expectations. :) tried my best. pls let me know what you think through the inbox 🤍

© All Rights Reserved mymoonisgrey

[sully-s]

Open in a different window to zoom in. So this is just a deep dive behind all the stuff I put in my last post I rolled back my picture before I did all the lighting and color changes to make certain details more visible. Fun fact I almost scrapped this whole picture at this stage because A. I was just burned out; this piece took me forever. B. As I kept getting more and more "neat" ideas to stuff in, I lost any real focal point, especially with the color scheme. After hours of trying to fix it in PS and failing, I was about to give up. I was like fuck it make it a night scene. Let me tell you all a world of lighting makes lol.

Anyways, enough about my struggles, let me give you the tour.

I love the idea that this corkboard was originally Phoenix's mood board in the beginning it just had his childhood pics from like the yearbook and that one time Larry got a polaroid camera. Then, a new year clipping about Edgeworth being Demon Prosecutor which led Phoenix to make his thesis about court drawings just so he could watch and see with his two eyes how much Edgeworth changed. - Then, later, he added Mia because she was his mentor. then Vinny (from the movie "My Cousin on Vinny") because like Vinny, Phoenix never understands court procedure but has very good instincts; and last Elle Woods who also went to law school for a boy basically his spirit lawyer lol. - Later, after Maya joined, she thought it would be funny to replace Phoenix's real reason to Steel Samurai. Also, it was fun because Will Powers was their client, so he should be their reason. Phoenix let them stay because it made Maya happy, and Phoenix knew that with Mia's death, she needed it. - I was going to add a sticky note from Miles that he approved, but I do like that Miles will never admit out loud or in writing that he enjoys the show. - A year later, Pearls tries to replace all the Steel Samurais with her drawings of Maya. Which Phoenix encouraged her to make during Maya's disappearance because facts. - Tid Bit: I was sad to cover up Will Powers' signature I really liked how it came out

Moving away from the mood board idea, I like that the cork board just became Phoenix's catch all. So his Law Degree which isn't the original it's just a sad printed-out version of what should've been his fancy embossed one. I like the idea that Phoenix never went to graduation. (Can't be bothered he's on a mission to save his childhood bff.)

Lastly are postcards from Edgeworth, his way of making up for all the years he couldn't write back to young Phoenix. - Also, this picture takes place some time after the 3rd game but before the disbarment.

Calendar whiteboard that I forgot to add the last row too so I guess in Japaniforina the months are only 25 days long.

I spent a frustrating amount of time trying to figure out the logistics of this paper trail. It really doesn't need to make sense It just has to make the room messier. - You can imagine Phoenix is looking over phone records or court stenographer's record.

So Edgeworth is a nerd; we all know this. But it annoys me just a tad that his nerd-isum is always just Steel Samurai (like I get it, it's canon), but all geeks have many fandom loves, okay. - So I just love the idea that Phoenix and Edgeworth (who are in a relationship at the time of this pic ) watch Better Call Saul, and they both bought each other a little plushie of the character they joke is them. -Edgeworth bought Saul for Phoenix (because of Saul's heart, not because he does shady practices), And Phoenix bought Kim (because she a really good lawyer who seems cold and is a workaholic who would break the rules for their Saul (used phoenix's badge in the third game )) - They keep each other's plushies in their offices, and if one of them stops by when the other isn't in, they put a sticky note on it. - Which we can see that Phoenix did need reminding because, as you can see, the date is 18th, and no mention of a dinner ;)

7. Now the whole reason I drew this picture was too show off my headcanon that Phoenix has a Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law action figure that you know Gumshoe got him after Edgeworth vs. State happen because of Polly. And we all know that man would be a fan of old Hanabara cartoons. - I've loved this stupid tid-bit of a headcanon that it's been haunting me for years. That's it; that's all I really wanted to say with this piece, and look where it got

[thjsrots]

Can I ask for a counselor!Sevika and reader with social anxiety? And Sevika has to attend those fancy "parties" of the Council, and there are so many people there, the reader feels uncomfortable (she doesn't cry, but almost), and Sevika notices and takes her out of there and comforts her? Sorry if this is confusing, I'm writing this in the middle of the night and a little sleepy!! Thanks (And forgive me if I wrote something wrong, English isn't really my first language...)

-🦇

i love me some sappy sevika. here u go!!! hope its okay! <3 (also don’t sue me i couldnt find a good maroon button up pic. i’m sorry. luv u.)

never really alone

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ sevika x reader fluff

It was nighttime, the moon gleamed down on you as you looked perfect. Your hair was styled, had on the most beautiful gown that Sevika picked out just for you, and your makeup was flawless. Everything about you was perfect. Except, you didn’t feel perfect. You felt the dress synching your waist in, making it hard to breathe. Your hair and face felt heavy, and the unnecessarily tall heels pinched your feet. But alas, you were doing this for your wife, so none of that mattered to you. You’d be able to suck it up just this one night for her, just for this one party.

The two of you walked in through the large doors, hand in hand. The immediate buzzing sound of people chattering, drinks pouring, and fancy music hit you like a truck. You gulped, squeezing Sevika’s hand, looking over at her. She looked straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed (per usual; she has a resting bitch face), maroon button up blouse semi tucked into her black slacks, belt buckle shining in the light. You could feel your cheeks flush underneath all the foundation as you stared, admiring but also trying to find comfort in her face. She looked over at you, eyebrows immediately relaxing, giving you a small smile.

“You ready, princess?” She asked, squeezing your hand back. A little sign to show that she had you, no matter what. You felt your tense body loosen up a bit, breathing out deeply, and nodding.

“Yes,” You started, smiling back. “I-I’m ready.” You pushed those words out of your mouth the best you could. Of course you weren’t ready. If it were up to you, the two of you would be at home, snuggled up watching a movie. Before you could even second guess your answer, she began to walk forward, leading you into the drowning sound. You followed behind her, of course. Those stupid heels were already hurting, so it definitely took you a second to catch up.

You knew Sevika didn’t necessarily enjoy these parties, but she had to show up and put on a face as best she could (which… was never really her best, you could tell she hated it). So you knew you probably wouldn’t be there long. All you had to do was suck it up and push the anxiety down as best you could for an hour or two.

Right?

As you were caught up in your own thoughts, you felt Sevika’s grip loosen and let go from your hand, making you snap back to reality. Your head snapped up, eyes darting towards her.

“Sevika! Glad you could make it,” Someone (of importance, you assumed) said, leading her away. You didn’t care much about seeing their face, your eyes stayed glued on Sevika. “There’s some people here who want to meet you. Follow me?”

She looked back at you, almost like she was asking for permission without actually asking. You couldn’t possibly hold her back from this, doing her job. So you forced the best smile you could, nodding. “Go ahead, darling. I’ll be here.”

She sighed annoyingly at the request, but smiled back at you. “Thank you. I’ll keep my eye on you, don’t stray too far. Okay?” She said before turning around and walking away. You watched her until she got lost in the crowds, leaving you by yourself. Your breath hitched once you lost sight of her, fingers twiddling as the panic began to settle in. You shook your head around, trying your best to push the feeling down.

I’m a grown being, I can do this. I can totally do this. You thought to yourself, trying to fake it till you make it. With the bit of courage you had, you made your way to the bar area, grabbing one of the drinks that were being given out. You sipped on it, face immediately twisting up. The alcohol tasted bitter, the cranberry juice doing absolutely nothing to mask the flavor, making it hard to swallow. You gulped it down as best you could anyway. You figured maybe getting a little buzz might cool the anxiety down, I mean, it didn’t hurt to try.

…So you picked up another drink after forcing down the first. You walked around, exploring the place, which was huge. I mean, truly, there was no ending to it. Halls after halls, multiple doors, stairs that led to Gods knows where. It seemed like you were doing fine. You were almost confident in yourself, dress shimmering, hair shiny, lashes batting.

Until… a group of women began to walk towards you. You stood there at first, trying to look nonchalant. I mean, no way they were coming to you. Right? Wrong.

“Hey! You’re Sevika’s wife, aren’t you?” One of them questioned, eyes gleaming as she stared. “Wow, what a beauty. She’s certainly lucky, isn’t she?” All of them giggled, touching your hair and dress. You felt it creeping up again, that same feeling that was always lingering in the pit of your stomach.

You cracked a smile anyway, hesitating before responding. “Y-Yeah, I’m her wife. Thank you. I should go find her, actually.” Was the best you could do. You figured you were coming off as rude, but these ladies did not catch the hint.

“What? Going so soon! Tell us more about her, she’s such a drag to work with usually. How could her cranky self wife up someone like you?” Another of them commented, their giggles turning into loud laughter. You could tell this was drunken banter, but that didn’t seem to help you at all. The feeling began to grow bigger, heavier, pushing down on your chest. It slowly became hard to breathe as their words overlapped, molding into something you couldn’t understand. Your chest was rising and falling too fast, so fast you couldn’t keep up. Your hands gripped on the cup, squeezing hard, shaking as they continued. How could they possibly not catch the hint? You regretted telling Sevika yes. Yes to joining her, yes to walking in, yes to letting her go join the others. You felt your eyes begin to water, hot tears beginning to build up, begging for their release. It was pathetic, you were pathetic, totally fucking path-

“Ladies,” Sevika’s husky voice broke your internal battle. The women immediately peaked over your head, looking at her as she stood behind you. She grabbed onto your waist, pulling you in. “Looks like you’ve bothered my wife enough. It’s about time you get going.” She said, voice stern and low. They smiled awkwardly, nodding and agreeing as they walked away, mumbling not so nice things under their breaths.

You felt Sevika grip onto your hand, leading you outside to the balcony, closing the doors behind you. She immediately wrapped her arms around you, making you spill your drink along the tile floor as you held onto her, face nuzzling in her neck. Although she was squeezing a little, you felt like you could finally breathe. Her hand ran down your back, then up again, rubbing it slowly.

“I’m sorry I left you alone, princess. Are you okay?” She said as she pulled away, cupping your face in her hands, her grey eyes full of worry. You held onto her hands as did so, resting your head against them. The anxiety began to melt away as you stared into her eyes, felt her skin against yours, her scent wrapping around you. This was your safe place.

“I’m okay,” You said, eyes closing, taking it all in. “I’m sorry I freaked out. Did I ruin it for you?”

“Of course not, I get whatever I want around here. So, my work for tonight is done.” She said, scoffing a bit.

Your eyes opened, immediately raising an eyebrow at her, giggling at her sassy remark. “Is that so?”

“It is so, and you know what it is I want now?” She asked, leaning closer into your face.

You giggled. “What does her highness want now, hm?”

She suddenly grabbed your waist, pulled you in, then kissed you. It was a soft and slow kiss, taking the time to feel her lips melting into yours. This was heaven, you were sure of it. Her soft and salty lips, gentle yet secure hands holding you, her care for you. She was your heaven. She pulled away, smiling softly, staring into your eyes. “I want us to go home and have the night to ourselves.” The moonlight hit her face just right. Her eyes glistened as she looked at you, skin glowing, and muscles showed through her shirt.

Your heart fluttered, ears reddening up a bit. Gods, you were so in love with her. The corners of your mouth lifted up into a toothy smile, one that Sevika absolutely adored. “I’d love that, Vika.” You said, pushing her hair back to get a better look of her face in that moment. You wanted to remember this, have this memory of her forever.

She grabbed onto your hand, kissing it softly, then looked back down to you. “By the way, alcohol is horrible for anxiety.”

Your eyes widened at the sudden comment. “How… did you know?” You questioned, blinking quickly.

“I tasted it all in your mouth, babe.” She started as she began to lead you back inside. “Plus, I had my eye on you the entire time, you were never really alone. I’d never do that to you.”

You blushed, smiling at her comment as the two of you walked back inside. She wasn’t usually this sappy, but when she was, you ate it up. You’d definitely bring up how hot her need to always protect you was later. She quickly said her goodbyes, brushing off the small talks, then led you outside the giant doors you had came in from. You couldn’t help but stare at her lovingly the entire time, wanting nothing more than to kiss her over and over. Maybe do even a little more than that, but you’d save that for the bedroom.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Big Brother's Wedding – Glen Powell

The second I left my room, I heard voices coming from the front room. I descended the beach house stairs, recognizing the voice of my brother's childhood best friend.

"Do my ears deceive me," I started to taunt him before they could see me, "or is that the best Tornado Wrangler this side of the Mississippi?"

"Ha ha," Glen faked laughed. I rounded the corner, instantly seeing his Hollywood smile. "My dear sweet Y/N."

He laughed for real as he wrapped his arms around me. "It's good to see you, Y/N."

"It's good to see you too, Glen," I whispered. We broke the hug and I could feel my face burning. "I'm kinda surprised, Powell."

"By what?" He smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"By the fact that you actually took time away from being Netflix's Heartthrob to come to your childhood best friend's wedding."

"Are you kidding?" He chuckled as he put my brother in a playful headlock. "I wasn't going to miss this dweeb's wedding. Who else is gonna tell his girl that she's too good for him?"

"Who else is gonna tell me that I'm the only adult among the three of us?" I rolled my eyes and headed to the kitchen as they started to fight the way they did as teenage idiots.

I grabbed three beers from the fridge and opened them. Once I opened the last one, the two idiots jogged into the kitchen. They laughed as I handed them each a beer.

"Thanks, Y/N," Glen smiled as he took it. I nodded before taking a drink of my beer.

"Your room is going to be upstairs," my brother started to explain. "It's the room between mine and Y/N's."

"Should I be worried about the bride-to-be sneaking in?" Glen smirked.

"Shannon and her family are in the beach house next door," I chuckled. "and her parents are very traditional. The soon-to-be-married couple can see each other during the day, but no sneaking off in the night."

Without warning, my brother ran out of the house. "What the hell was that?" Glen chuckled. I pointed outside, making Glen follow my finger to my brother running toward a girl and picking her up, spinning her around.

"Gotcha," he laughed. "Our boy's really in love, huh?"

"Oh yeah," I elongated. "I've never seen him like this, Glen. He's really in love."

"That's great," he smiled. I watched as his smile slowly fell.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he cleared his throat. "I was just. . . Do you ever wonder if it's gonna happen for you?"

"What?"

"Falling in love."

The silence came suddenly and it was thick. I let it settle before trying to lighten the tension. "You fall in love on almost every movie set," I teased.

"True," he sighed, "but it's not real. I want something real. Something. . . timeless. I want to find a girl that I'm crazy for. A girl who if I go even a day without talking to her, it's too long. A girl who I want to be with every minute of every day. A girl who, when friends look at me, they say that I am whipped. A girl that I would happily leave my boys for. A girl who is the most important person in the world to me. I just want to find my person, my girl."

"You will," I said, my voice soft. "Someday you will find a girl who will be as crazy about you as you are about her."

"And someday you'll find a guy worthy of you," Glen smiled. I watched as his smile turned slightly dark. "And if he hurts you, I'll kick his ass."

* * * * *

We spent the next couple of days hanging out, drinking, and acting like stupid kids again. It was great. I've missed this.

After playing the version of football that Glen learned for Top Gun: Maverick, I collapsed onto my lounge chair under the umbrella. I drank some water before relaxing into my seat.

"You good?"

I opened my eyes and instantly shielded them from the sun. I ignored the embarrassment flooding me when I saw Glen standing in front of me. Very shirtless and very sweaty.

"Yeah," I chuckled, trying to relax. "Just needed a breather. The game's a lot more intense than I thought it would be."

"I know," he laughed as he sat on the chair next to me. "The day after we filmed the scene, we were all so sore. They had to give us a day off so we could feel our bodies again."

"Rumor was that you got hurt filming that scene," I said, my voice slightly softening.

"There were worse scenes," he shrugged off as he turned back to our friends. I let the silence settle between us for a few seconds before I had to tell him.

"I've missed you, Glen," I sighed, my eyes on my brother and his friends.

"I've missed you too, Y/N," he said, looking at me, but I didn't return the glance. 

"I hope you know," I said, slowly turning toward him, "Matt's really missed you. As soon as he got engaged, he kept talking about planning the wedding in between your projects. He wanted to make sure you could make it."

"I would've made it," he winked. "No matter what."

"Okay!" Matt yelled as he walked over. "Let's go!"

"Go where?" I laughed, sending a look toward Glen. 

"Sailing, duh!"

My head snapped toward my brother. "You. . . You can't be serious," I stuttered.

"It's gonna be great!"

"Matt, are you sure that's a good idea?" Glen asked, glancing at me, his eyes soft. 

"Y/N," my brother said softly, "you'll be fine. I checked the weather. No storms. Nothing we can't handle. Plus, the boat has a railing." He patted my shoulder before leaving.

I looked out at the ocean, my mind going back to that horrible sailing trip, my brother, Glen, and I took back in high school. I fell overboard and almost drowned.

"You going to be okay?" Glen asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I said, my voice slightly breaking. I looked over to see Glen studying me.

"Y/N," he whispered as he reached over and grabbed my hand. I quickly pulled my hand back and stood up. I started gathering my things, not looking at Glen.

"I'll be fine."

* * * * *

As we left the dock, my hand gripped the railing tightly. I could feel Glen's eyes on me, but I couldn't look at him. I gasped when the boat went over a wave. I closed my eyes and tried to take a deep, calming breath. I opened my eyes when I felt someone gently grab my hand.

"It's okay," Glen whispered as he sat next to me. "We are perfectly safe."

"I know," I said shakily. I looked up at him and let out a small chuckle. "I begged my brother to do anything else for this outing."

My heart skipped a beat when he scooted a little closer to me.

"I begged him to choose something else, too," he nodded. I studied him, trying to see if he was being honest with me.

"Did you really?"

"Of course," he said, his eyes softening. "I even brought up the time when we were in high school and went sailing."

"I begged my brother to go back to the dock but . . ."

"He ignored you," Glen finished. "I turned to him to tell him that it was probably the right idea. You screamed and when I turned around, you were gone. You had fallen overboard."

"You dove in and saved me."

"I couldn't let you drown," he said, his voice lowering.

I gasped when we went over another wave and landed hard. I instantly tucked into Glen's chest and he quickly wrapped his arms around me. I closed my eyes and tried to calm down.

"I'll be right back," he said, anger building as he stood up.

"Wait!" I grabbed his wrist before he could walk away. Embarrassment flooded me as I added, "Where are you going?"

He smiled as he knelt in front of me. "I'm going to go talk to your brother. This was a stupid idea and all he's doing is torturing you. I've had enough."

I wrapped my arms around myself as Glen went over and got in my brother's face. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but my brother looked at me over Glen's shoulder. I sent him a weak smile even though I was shaking.

My brother said something to Glen before turning back to the steering wheel. Glen patted his back before returning to me. He sat next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

"Matt is taking us back to the dock."

"Thank you," I said, my voice breaking.

"Just focus on the dock getting closer," he tried to comfort me. With his free hand, he grabbed one of mine. We sat like that the entire ride back to the dock. The second we got back, I was the first one off the boat.

I didn't focus on what everyone else was doing. I needed to get back to the beach house before my panic attack bubbled up. As I unlocked the front door, I finally turned around. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Glen getting in Matt's face. It was clear that Glen was angry while my brother was surprised.

I shook off any curiosity I had and went up to my room. I got in the shower and allowed the hot water to wash any anxiety away. Once I was sure I had successfully stopped my attack, I got out of the shower and pulled on my pajamas. 

Everyone was already asleep when I went downstairs to make myself a cup of tea. I was just pouring it into a cup when someone else came downstairs.

"How you feeling?"

I looked over my shoulder to see Glen walking in. "I know that boats kind of trigger you and when you're triggered, you end up having a panic attack. I'm hoping I stopped it in time."

"You did," I said, a little too quickly. I cleared my throat before looking back at my hands wrapped around my tea.

"Good," he chuckled. He walked over and poured himself a cup of tea before sitting next to me. We drank in silence for a while, neither one of us breaking it. Glen eventually did.

"You ready for the wedding tomorrow?"

"I guess," I mumbled. I looked over when I felt his eyes on me.

"You guess?"

"I just mean," I stuttered, "I'm really happy for my brother and future sister-in-law."

"Then what is it?"

I hesitated. "It's the fact that, no matter how happy I am for my brother, it's not easy to sit back and watch your sibling get married while you haven't even had a long-term boyfriend."

"I get that," he nodded. "It's not easy sitting back and watching your best friend get married while you haven't even had a long-term girlfriend."

We started at each other, the tension getting thicker by the minute.

"Well," he said softly, "at least we won't be the only single people tomorrow. We'll have each other."

Part 2

[plethorawrites]

I'm back to my once in a blue moon Roy post. And again, I can't stop thinking about how any person he dated HAS to be approved by Lian.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

It doesn't matter how much Roy Harper likes you or how perfect he thinks you are, if Lian doesn't like one of his partners, he'll break up with that person the next day.

He obviously waits a while to see if he even likes you enough to introduce you to her, but once he makes that decision, it's nerve wracking. He wants her to approve. He really does. And you want her too as well. He drones on about her constantly. Basically the entire first date was him relating every question you asked him back to her somehow.

Favorite place to go? The zoo, because Lian loves it. Favorite food? Grilled cheese, because he makes it for her so much he got hooked. Favorite color? It changes when hers does because everything she owns switches shades too. But he's partial to the color closest to her eyes.

And you're just as excited and nervous to meet her, knowing exactly how important she is to him. Lian is a good judge of character, she can know instantly if someone is wrong for her dad and she doesn't want them around him.

With you, it's the same as all the others. She's standoffish, curious but hesitant, asking you questions that only seem to have bad answers the way all kids somehow manage to do. And you're panicking, admittedly, not only at the questions, but at seeing Roy slowly deflate when he realizes how judgmental his daughter is.

At some point he excuses himself from the room for a moment, either to take a call, or try to take a breath because he's suddenly thinking about ending the relationship. But the second he walks away and both you and Lian can see the disappointment in posture, you both soften. Mostly her.

"...He works a lot," she told you, almost like a deterrent.

You nodded softly. "I know."

There was a pause, her princess crown falling a little bit. "Things with mom didn't end well," she mumbled.

You fixed her crown. "I know that, too." Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear you scooted closer to her on the couch. "I don't want to replace your mom, Lian. I just...want to love your dad."

She looked up at you. No one he brought home ever said the L word before. Not unless it was in some patronizing way as they talked about her while squishing her cheeks.

Her lips quirked, fighting a pout. "He's always busy," she repeated with emphasis. "I don't even see him for a week or two." She knew why, of course, and never blamed him. It still hurt.

Things suddenly clicked for you, realizing Lian was less worried about you, and more worried about you stealing her time with him.

"Well...maybe when he's gone, you and I could go somewhere? Do you like the aquarium?" You suggested hesitantly, watching her furrow her brows in skepticism as she nodded. "And maybe when he's back, we could all do something too, like a movie..." She seemed to relax a little, still pouting. "I'm not trying to steal him from you. You're the most important thing in his life, you know? You'll always come first."

...

A while later, Roy had all but prepared his typical break up speech, planning to tell you he liked you a lot but needed to take care of Lian and her needs first before focusing on himself. It hurt more this time, though, rehearsing it, than it usually did.

He walked back into the living room, freezing when he saw you braiding Lian's hair, a blanket pulled over her lap as she clicked the buttons on a remote.

"Oh, there you are," you said, glancing up. "We were going to watch 'Brave', do you want to join us?"

He blinked a few times, glancing at his daughter to ensure she wasn't just pretending. Then again, she never went along with anything she didn't actually want to do.

Roy nodded slightly, sitting next to Lian, squishing her in-between you two as she found the movie on the TV.

"You should make us popcorn," she practically demanded, starting the movie and glancing back at you as you finished her hair. "He makes really good popcorn."

You nodded curiously, giving her a small smile. "You ever tried it with M&M's in it before?"

Her eyes widened, head snapping towards her dad as if already asking for it. "O-okay, yeah, I'll check if we have any," he muttered, standing up, sparing a glance over his shoulder as he saw you pulling a blanket over Lian's lap while she passed her favorite princess crown to you.

It seemed she did approve, this time.

[bwobgames]

They see a slumped, defeated looking Owen and a pensive Simon on one of the tables.

“Now that’s not the mood for a fancy train ride. Cheer up, strange creatures!”

“No can do, for the future only brings ruin. Forked paths. Uncertain fate. Such an herculean feat of Atlas proportions”

“What”

“We’re thinking”

“Are you?”

“They’re bummed out because they have to choose a career for university”

“WHA- WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?”

“Around”

“Is that what’s worrying you? Career prospects?”

“It’s more than that! I took a year off to ~find myself~ but uh. I mostly played videogames and got a cool haircut”

“And now I have to actually do the damn thing, and I still haven’t found out what I want to do!”

“It’s alright Owen, the university life is not for everyone.”

“No no, I know that! But I need to know what is it that I want to do for the rest of my life!”

“That does sound like a Herculean feat of Atlas proportions”

“Well, what is it that you like to do?”

“Uh. Listen to Medieval versions of popular music?”

“…As like. A hobbie”

“Don’t worry, a lot of people don’t end up working as the thing they studied. I was a security guard for a good while!”

“Security! That’s it!”

“A security expert? That’s a noble job”

“I’LL BECOME THE NEXT DOMINION!”

“The guy is nowhere to be found, and people found he sold all the stuff he stole so he must be loaded, right?”

“And! I get to have a cool costume!”

“You think it’s cool…?”

("He thinks it's cool?!")

“Owen that’s how you get in jail. And at least a few broken bones. A person needs to be borderline crazy to believe they can pull off the stuff Dominion did”

“Because he was like no other, truly. Amazing, mysterious, charming…”

“A complete lunatic”

“less than three”

“wh- Did you say the heart emoji out loud?”

“Well, if I can’t be Twominion then what do you think I should be, Mr. B- Oliver Beebo?”

Hmm… Something that Owen would enjoy…

“I think you’d do it well”

“Well, that does sound fun, but uh, isn’t that a bit… low on employment?”

“That is true, but. Does it really matter for your type?”

“My type?”

“Rich people."

"You have connections. Your parents have connections. No matter how low-end a career path might be, you’ll get to do anything because of your family’s name”

“Ollie, you’re not wrong but I don’t think that’s what the kid wants to hear right now…”

“Why not? It means he’s free to do whatever he wants. Look at Nadia”

“Oliver…”

“She’s studying film. In a country with barely any movie productions. Less so known ones aside from some closed circles. On a private University.”

“Yet she’ll be able to do all the movies she wants and be successful because the Margulis name is strong”

“…Excuse you. Are you implying I’m not able to be successful on my own?”

“Ah, you certainly have talent Nadia, I wouldn’t say anything against that”

“But that talent can be found in millions of people. People who might be even more talented. But we’ll never know because they won’t be able to reach the place it has been given to you on talent alone”

“You will. Because you have money. Because you were born with money.”

“…You-“

“SIMON! HAHA WHAT ABOUT YOU SIMON? HUH? WHAT DO YOU WANT TO STUDY HAHA”

“C’mon Beeb, only I’m allowed to fight the child”

(“Fight?")

Simon thinks for a second

“…Marine Biology”

“Although mom always gets weird when I say it. I think she might hate fishes”

“Bu- But you are good at cooking yeah? Didn’t you love cooking?”

“I am good at it but… The cooking scene isn’t very nice…”

“And I refuse to cook Lobster! It’s terrible and cruel!”

“Well, what if you become a vet! And specialize in fish! Or become the owner of an aquarium!”

“That just seems like a roundabout way to get to marine biology”

“You could have your own restaurant! Fish free!”

“I think it’s fine."

"If you like it and you think you can make it, then go ahead. Biology is hard though, think about that”

“I’m pretty good at it”

He seems relieved.

While he can’t speak for the others, his blonde roots and white shirt made his eyes look… almost green.

Eugene never got to study what he loved. He’ll make sure Simon does.

<-PREV START NEXT->

[justandinchident]

What happens in Vegas… | Franco Colapinto x Pato O’ward x fem reader | + 18

The beauty of Las Vegas is that there were always a lot of people, there was always chaos, and there was always a nice party going on, whether it was Monday or Sunday.

It was no surprise that the Vegas GP was the same, there were a lot of celebrities and a lot of people from the motorsport world betting without worrying about whether they won or lost.

The wonderful thing? There were journalists everywhere, all ready to make sure that whatever happened there was news all over the world.

Luckily you are a stranger who had met two wonderful people by chance, so you could easily sneak in without being seen.

“Come to the room honey” you read with a smile as you took the elevator and you were thankful that the security was damn good because you wouldn’t find a camera and microphone in your way.

As soon as you arrived and knocked on the door, Pato immediately opened it, dragging you with a smile, he closed the door behind you and whispered a “Hi”, you smiled as you hugged him and you could see him, his clothes impeccable, you examined the room and saw Franco on the bed, with his hair disheveled, his clothes half-tucked and eating popcorn while watching some cliché Hollywood movie.

How much do you love the image.

Pato dragged you to the bed, where Franco hugged you tightly and you laughed “Amor…. What took you so long?” He whispered as he ate you with his eyes, making you blush.

Franco was younger than you, so he was more impatient, more inexperienced, and more curious. It wasn't that he didn't know what to do. He wanted to know a thousand and one ways to make you smile, laugh, moan...

“Leave her alone, Franco. There are a lot of people downstairs.”

“Las Vegas definitely never sleeps,” the Argentinian murmured as he caressed your legs, and you felt his nose on your neck, as he began to kiss and suck every spot, making you moan. You glanced at Pato out of the corner of your eye as he turned off the TV and got more comfortable.

Franco started kissing your neck, as he got rid of your clothes, admiring your beautiful and perfect skin “Dios” he whispered as he lowered his kisses to your chest and you felt yourself shudder as you felt the air harden your nipples, and then you felt his lips ready to suck on them, you shook your head, trying to avoid moaning, which only made Franco take it as a personal challenge, moving his fingers anxiously near your panties ready to touch you with too much desperation.

You saw how Pato approached to stop him “Calm down Franco” he muttered as he stood behind you and moved your panties to the side, showing the Argentinian your wetness “So cute, isn’t it?” Franco smiled as he wanted to touch your clit, but Pato stopped him “soft…” he whispered as he barely touched you.

“Pato… please…” you gasped as you felt Franco move to your other nipple, the wetness grew and you saw the Mexican smile, he loved creating your orgasm, keeping you on the edge, because he loved watching you have an orgasm after keeping you wanting one, seeing how you arched your back and rolled your eyes was an image that made him feel like a premature ejaculator again.

He touched the side of your clit, and you only moved to see if you could get a minimal touch, you felt him laugh in your neck, while he looked at you with a warm smile, he turned your face briefly and then kissed you, while he circled your clit and you let out a moan, you felt Franco get anxious, leaving your breasts to move you away from Pato and kiss you too, while he slowly laid you down, and kissed your abdomen, to move the other's fingers away and put his tongue on your clit, while Pato kissed you again.

You felt all the pleasure run through your abdomen and back. You could feel the skin on the skin of the pilots, and you could see Franco with his cheeks flushed as you ground your pussy on his face, feeling waves of more intense pleasure, looking for your release, while you grabbed Pato's cock to start masturbating him, however, he let out a laugh "you know that's not how it is, honey" he said as he stopped your hips, making you let out a whimper while making you look at Franco, as eager as ever, as he walked away with redness on his cheeks because he had managed to cum just by tasting you.

You saw the Argentinian grab his cock, still hard and full of semen, and with the tip, he touched your clitoris, your wetness and his only made the rubbing more pleasurable, he played with you a little, and then fucked you, under the watchful gaze of Pato, who only smiled while whispering dirty things in your ear.

“Dios amor” you heard Franco while you felt pleasure, Pato’s hand was on your lower belly and you simply felt tears on your cheeks, because you were not going to be able to hold back.

“Pato…” you whispered, as you began to feel a familiar heat.

“Sh… we’ve done it before love, you know, you have to make Franco feel good… you can do it” he said while playing with your nipples “You can do it, just look at him, so desperate for you, I’m surprised he hasn’t come again just by feeling you squeezing his cock.”

Franco blushed, as he closed his eyes and moaned, filling your insides, you squeezed your eyes shut, he just needed to move a little more and you could feel your climax, but no, he stopped, and you felt your orgasm starting to fade, Franco kissed you and you smiled, as he carefully pulled out of you.

Your breathing was labored and you watched as Franco laid down next to you, sweat on his neck, you watched Pato, as he examined between your legs “So pretty” he said as he stained his fingers with Franco’s semen and your arousal, you gasped at the sensitivity “open up” he ordered as he brought his fingers closer to your mouth and you obeyed “you want that orgasm don’t you?”

“Yes, yes…” you admitted intensely and he just laughed “Please…”

You watched as Pato played with all the mess you had between your legs, still, he didn’t touch you in the right places “It wouldn’t be the first time we left you without an orgasm, huh?” You look at the Argentinian who was paying attention to what he was doing. “A few weeks ago, in Mexico, we gave you some good orgasms, didn’t we? All because Franco read that article in which it said that a woman could have 20 orgasms, you got tired after seven.” You blushed as you felt him hold your legs and place them on his shoulders, he hadn’t penetrated you yet. “And in Brazil, you had a few, didn’t you?” He penetrated you halfway through his sentence, which made you moan.

You shook your head. “No…”

“No?” Pato murmured with a smile. “I’m pretty sure you did,” he said as he penetrated you hard.

“No…no… you left me on the edge, about five times, and then you said that today…” you couldn’t finish the sentence because the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“Oh yeah… we left you all wet and sensitive.” He smiled. “You slept like a baby… don’t you want to sleep like a baby today?”

“I…I…” you moaned as you felt the pleasure “please…”

Pato examined your face, then looked at Franco, who had his cock semi-hard from the image you were causing, he let out a laugh as he made a sign to him. Franco kissed you and played with your nipples while Pato continued to penetrate you, he took the Argentinean’s hand and brought it to your clit, and you gasped.

“Please… please” you begged again, Pato felt you squeeze him and closed his eyes as he nodded. You whispered a “thank you” as you felt yourself allow yourself to feel all the pleasure, Pato fucked you harder, which led to both of you climaxing at the same time, you felt your eyes looking at stars and how you contracted on his cock.

You were catching your breath, as Franco kissed your neck and helped you lay down properly on the bed, your back on his chest, you smiled slightly as you watched Pato still have a sparkle in his eyes, you were coming out of your mental haze caused by the climax, Pato spread your legs, as he looked at your pussy.

“What are you going to do?” You whispered with your eyes half closed.

“Clean yourself up” he murmured as you watched his head devour you, you moaned as you felt his tongue, and you could feel another orgasm forming, Franco kissed you and you let yourself go, you could feel the vibration of the Mexicans laughter between your legs, as he continued with his tongue, you were so sensitive, your third orgasm was not long in coming.

You spread your arms as Pato brought water to Franco and you, the Mexican came over to kiss you lovingly, as he pulled you away from the Argentine to hug you in bed. “Are you okay?” He whispered and you nodded with a smile “Are you okay?” He asked Franco who just smiled as he hugged you from behind.

“It’ll be hard to leave in the morning like this...” you whispered, between laughs and sleep, Pato took your chin and you saw him nibble on his lip, nervous. “I mean… can I go now…”

“No!” Franco’s voice was too loud “I mean… if that’s what you want amor…”

Pato just smiled “What Franco means is that we don’t want you to leave… not today or tomorrow morning or in a week… we want you here”

“Really?” You looked at both of them and they both nodded, you smiled “I’d love to”

You saw them smile and Franco hugged you tighter “Gracias amor” he whispered into your neck as he let out a yawn “Rest”

“Rest” you murmured and looked at Pato “Rest”

“Rest honey,” he said with a smile, as the three of you drifted off to sleep.

[legorockraiders]

No offense to Healed, someone I respect utmostly, but I don't really like this answer so I'd like to offer my own.

The problem with this answer is the statement being made here that "all good art is made with passion". Even the most cashgrabby shlock has fans, has meaning to somebody. There are people out there, scary as it is to think about, who still _love_ marvel movies. Statistically, many people have gone to the grave loving marvel movies, some tragic handful who died young were born raised and died loving them their entire lives. The value in art comes from the emotions it creates in people, and even the worst stuff can create value-- even indirectly! Food Fight is a horrible movie that was created as an advertisement for various grocery brands, but if it had never existed, all the funny youtube vids making fun of it would have never been made.

So, objections now raised, getting back to the original question. Why would people make art without copyright protections?

Because people like making art. It's really as simple as that. People will make art for free if they don't have to spend their lives toiling for the bourgeoisie. Well, ok, but we're not talking about Sam Raimi going to a cabin in the woods with a half a dozen friends and shooting Evil Dead on a shoestring budget, we're talking about major productions here! Well that's really no different than _any_ industry. Under socialism, why would anyone make insulin without being able to profit off it? This is also a complex and difficult product which requires coordination, and cannot be done haphazardly by someone working out of their shed. The answer is because they want to and other people want them to, and people will work together to make even very complicated things. Socialism is capable of producing both simple and complex products!

Of course what is popular in art will change. What kind of marxist would I be if I failed to point out that the current trend of superhero blockbusters is driven by *material conditions*, not some abstract unquantifiable ideal Taste which is ever-improving. We see these movies because they are cheaper and the rate of profit tends to fall. They are cheaper because camera technology has improved, visual effects technology has improved, **visual effects artists are mostly not unionized**, streaming has made the consumer action of picking a movie to watch a much lower commitment resulting in shorter attention spans and less loyalty to the creative forces involved.

All that to say, under a different social context, when technology has changed what is cheap to make, a different kind of movie will be popular, and this is neither a good nor a bad thing. In 300 years under perfectly realized communism, there will probably be some weirdo in the world who loves the shlock of the early 21st century and wants to make a movie like that. Maybe he won't be able to convince others to help him, but *only* communism, and the eradication of copyright, will make that creative endeavour even minimally possible!

what’s to incentivize people to make art if not for copyright? you might point out that creatives often don’t own their own work, they are paid a wage by a company who owns the IP. but even still, they are only paid that wage at all because the company is incentivized to pay people to make art that they can sell. in a world with no copyright laws, how would people make money off creative works? in a world where people can’t make money off creative works, would we have any art aside from passion projects? would that be a good thing?

i recognize that i’m probably wrong, but please consider explaining why (even though i know you probably have a really funny dunk on the stupid anon locked and loaded).

i mean, just frankly, i struggle to think of any great work of art that's happened because of the profit motive, rather than because somebody wanted to make it, with the need to monetize it hanging around its neck like an albatross. there's a reason why "cash grab" is a perjorative, innit. i think 'passion project' describes essentially all art that's actually worth a damn -- whether it's a blockbuster film that makes billions or a tgirl's edgy poetry that gets 10 notes, every piece of art that's any good has been made because someone (or several someones) wanted it to exist.

moreover, the world i advocate for is not a capitalist world with copyright laws cleanly snipped out, affecting nothing else, but a socialist world, in which people are free to create art without having to worry about it paying the rent. the entire capitalist mode of production is a decidedly bad thing if you want to see more art, interesting art, thoughtful art, good art!