#seriously the woman is driving me crazy

[jubshead]

“Well, I’ll be… Someone’s put a sigil on that boy.”

Lilia Calderu you need to throw me into a bed IMMEDIATELY

[sunnibits]

GOT TO DO MORE FIGURE DRAWING YESTERDAY WOOOOOO <3333

[the-paris-of-people]

The past couple days online have been... interesting. I consider myself a leftist, think capitalism is corrupt, and think that it needs to be seriously reformed/overthrown. I admit that while I've thrown around phrases and terms like "burn it all down" and "the revolution needs to come" out of frustration without actually thinking about what a revolution entails: excellent organization, unity, and strategy to defeat the United States, the world's largest military superpower which has inflicted political and social destabilization across the majority of countries around the world. There also needs to be superb infrastructure and community to support the disabled, elderly, and poor populations who rely on government assistance and programs, healthcare, and accommodations while this so-called revolution rages on.

All I've received from the far leftist movement are lectures from condescending intellectuals who rattle off academic citations regarding ideological theory rather than practical, tangible steps to advocate for change in our local and regional communities. I have not seen one of them actually discuss conversations they've had with their friends, family, or Americans about what they want to see reflected for the future of the country. I have not seen one of them discussed how destructive, detrimental and traumatic a Trump presidency was for social prejudice and morale in the United States. I understand that for many marginalized groups they've been living in a facist state for centuries so the possibility Project 2025 doesn't galvanize them to see the two parties differently, but I don't think it is fair to white leftists falsely equivocate the election of both parties for the entire American population at all??? Or like at least specify the issues you're referring to in which you view both parties as the same????? Literally one TikTok creator who I used to follow talked about how true leftists are so much better than liberals because they aren't waiting for a presidential candidate to save the world NOW due to the accelerated apocalypse due to climate change but when asked how to change the world they suggest sharing ideas of your future utopia with other leftist groups. How the fuck is sitting around talking about living in a walkable community is great considered "saving the world now"? How are you going to dismantle and restructure American infrastructure to create these communities? How are you going to remove existing racial and social tensions to create a community where everyone lives happily side by side? Do people not consider reality at all?????

And is it not wrong for people to have a fucking sliver of optimism and hope at incremental change that's achieved within the corrupt bipartisan system of American politics, even if they know it's propaganda??? Is it wrong for people to have a singular fucking moment of relief in feeling like their values, beliefs, and lives will be better protected and THEY can advocate for change better??? Is it wrong when there's a couple months until the most pressing election in recent history for people to make the choice they feel will reduce the most amount of harm???

[sincerelyneo]

blank space | p.js

“i get drunk on jealousy”

💿now playing: blank space by taylor swift

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Jisung, is just so damn…oblivious, and it’s going to get him in trouble one day. Especially if he keeps letting that make up artist flirt with him right in front of you.

❯ pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, smut, angst, idol!au

❯ words: 4.1k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, arguing, a lot of jealousy, possessive!reader, switch!jisung, praise kink, oral sex (both), unprotected sex (don't do this!), fingering, creampie, reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names, marking, angsty, literally just reader getting jealous and then getting pissed at jisung for not realising it (lowkey real but I may be projecting).

“No seriously, Jisung, you have the prettiest eyes for eyeliner. It gives you crazy sex appeal,” the makeup artist says with a bite of her lip, smudging the black colour out beneath Jisung’s eye. 

Your boyfriend blushes and nods, cheeks flushing pink as he mutters out a rushed, “Thank you.” 

Your left eye starts to twitch — there’s no way you could keep your sanity hearing another woman say your boyfriend has any kind of sex appeal. You consider the consequences of potentially trying to gauge her eyes out if she carries on. Not worth the jail time. 

Instead, you watch her, tight-lipped and sharp gaze as she lets her fingertips graze Jisung’s cheeks a little too delicately, her touch lingering for way longer than it should. Compliments flowing out of her mouth like water as she studies parts of his face that only you should know about. 

And that’s not even the worst part — oh no — the part that’s driving you absolutely insane is the fact that Jisung is completely oblivious to it all. Honestly, the more toxic part of your brain wants to call it him being complicit but deep down you know he’s simply just clueless. In fact, you had to be the one to make the first move at the beginning of your relationship because the poor boy could not pick up on any of your flirting signals. 

At first, you thought it was cute; maybe it still is when he’s obvious to you — but to other girls — absolutely not. On one hand, Jisung was everything you could ever want in a boyfriend—bubbly, friendly, and kind, like a lost puppy who always found his way back to you. But his obliviousness to the world around him drives you up the wall.

Especially when it comes to that makeup artist who laughs a little too loudly at his jokes. He’s not even that funny, you think with a scoff. 

Jisung does, however, notice the sound escaping your lips and his eyes snap to the mirror in front of him to study you. You’re lazily scrolling through your phone, body turned away from him with a bored expression.

His eyebrows furrow, you’re pissed, but why? 

He took the trash out last night when he got home from practice, he didn’t eat your leftovers despite really wanting to, he told you he loved you this morning, and he even let you have the aux on the drive to set. 

“Everything okay Y/N?” 

You look up from your phone to meet his eyes through the mirror, “It will be if she—”

“Jisung, tilt your head back for me a little,” the makeup artist interrupts, voice high pitched and so fucking annoying. “I can’t see your gorgeous eyes like this.”

Is this bitch for real? 

You can't take it anymore. It's like he doesn’t even notice—or maybe he just doesn’t care. If the roles were reversed, you’d have called the guy out by now. But Jisung and his total utter obliviousness strikes again.

Deciding you’ve had enough, with a tight smile and quick glance at Jisung, you get up to leave. But before you can take two steps, he calls after you, voice laced with that confused, puppy-dog innocence that only makes you more frustrated.

"Wait, where are you going?"

You shrug, “Somewhere where I’m not interrupting.”

There’s a flicker of confusion in his eyes, then a hint of realization, as he studies your soured expression, pointed in a certain woman’s direction. He turns to the makeup artist, who’s still holding her brush up midair, looking at him expectantly.

“Noona,” he says with an apologetic smile, “do you think we could take a break for like fifteen minutes?”

The way he says it—"Noona"—sends a fresh wave of annoyance through you. It’s petty really on your part but you can’t help but wonder how close the two of them actually are. You thought she was just a random makeup artist. 

“Sungie, our time is already short—”

Jisung gives her a soft look. “Please.”

She frowns but ultimately nods, packing up her kit with a pout that makes you want to roll your eyes.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, Jisung turns in his chair to face you fully, hand reaching out to hold yours. "What’s going on? Are you okay?"

You shake off his hand, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “Noona?”

His eyes widen as he stumbles over his words. “It’s… just polite,” he says, looking genuinely puzzled. “She’s older, so I thought—”

“You’re kidding, right?” You let out a huff. “She was practically flirting with you!”

Jisung blinks, still looking as lost as ever.

“Flirting?” he says, furrowing his brows. “No, she was just doing her job. She has to say nice things—they do it to all the other boys.”

“All the other boys are single,” you let out an incredulous laugh, crossing your arms tighter. “And that went beyond saying nice things, Jisung, she was calling you sexy and practically petting your face!”

He scratches the back of his neck, cheeks pink. “It… might’ve sounded like that, but I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it.” His eyes flicker down. “She’s just… really friendly, maybe?”

“Friendly? So it would be friendly if another guy started calling me sexy right in front of you?”

“Well, no, but–”

You don’t even let him finish before you’re snapping again, “Not to mention that she was practically drooling over you, and she called you, Sungie!”

He lets out a soft sigh, trying to keep up with your frustration but clearly not understanding. “The guys call me that too,” he says, still wearing that innocent expression. “It’s not a big deal…is it?”

Is he serious?

You shake your head and tongue the inside of your cheek in disbelief. You give him a final glance up and down and try to head for this door again – but this time he’s out of the chair and grabbing your wrist, his grip firm but gentle.

“Let go of me, Sung.”

“No, baby, you’re mad at me, and I don’t want that,” he looks at you, alarmed now, eyes wide. “I swear, I don’t see her that way. I didn’t even notice she was flirting with me.”

“That’s exactly my point, Jisung!” You let out an exasperated sigh. “You didn’t notice. You never do.”

Jisung sighs, and you can tell he’s holding back a laugh, his lips twitching.

“Okay, I get it, you’re frustrated with me.” He pulls you in a little closer, tilting his head with that slight smirk, his voice dropping as he says, “But just so we’re clear… I only notice when you flirt with me.”

He’s trying to lighten the mood, clearly, that stupid grin of his doing nothing to ease your annoyance though. You pull your wrist from his grasp, fixing him with a deadpan look, but he doesn’t stop, leaning in closer with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Baby, she’s not the one I think about when I’m sitting in that chair,” his hand finds its way to your waist, pulling you just close enough that you’re practically breathing the same air, his voice low and teasing. “I only think about you. I love thinking about only you.”

He brings his hand up to your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin as he tilts your face up to his. “Only person I want is you. And I’m sorry for not realising. I never want to upset you.”

Your cheeks flush, but you’re still not ready to let him off the hook that easily.

“Maybe you wouldn’t upset me if you weren’t so clueless,” you say, voice half a grumble. “You’re mine, Jisung, and I don’t like other girls thinking they can talk to you like that.”

He nods, his grin widening as his lips ghost over yours. “Got it. So I’ll just have to show you I’m yours then, huh?”

You hold onto a sliver of your stubbornness, giving him a final huff. “If you don’t, maybe I’ll let some ‘friendly’ guy flirt with me next time.”

His playful look falters, just for a second, and he leans in, his tone dropping. “Not happening,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls you flush against him. “You’re mine, too.”

His words spark something inside you—a flicker of pure competitiveness. You lean into his kiss, rough and messy, pouring your frustration into it as your fingers grip his jaw, moaning into him. Jisung whimpers in response, his broad hands moving instinctively to hold your waist—but you’re quicker, pinning his wrists above his head as you press him against the wall, bodies flush.

You watch as his biceps twitch at the movement. You know Jisung – know his body so damn well – that right now he wants nothing more than to touch you, to grope and grasp your body like he owns it. But you’re still mad at him. He knows that. And although he can easily overpower you and have you under his mercy, Jisung lets you deny him what he wants most. Truthfully, he secretly loves it when you make him feel like this — powerless and desperate. 

You pull away from him, lips swollen and puffy as they start to pepper kisses down the column of his neck. Images of that makeup artist flicker in your mind as you suck hard against his pale flesh. You know you shouldn’t be doing this – he has a music video to shoot – but something tells you to mark him, claim him as yours for her to see. And judging by the way Jisung moans as your teeth nip at the sensitive skin, you know he’s enjoying it too. 

It’s not something you usually do, but right now, he doesn’t mind at all. He’s yours. 

Jisung’s chest heaves, his skin bearing the reddened claim of your lips that’s starting to deepen. There’s a rush of satisfaction—pride, maybe lust—in your eyes as you study the mark on his neck, and you see the same desire mirrored in his gaze. His lips are glossy with your spit, parted and breathless; and despite you easing your grip on his arms, he keeps them obediently above his head –  like such a good boy.

He looks so wrecked and needy, and you haven’t even touched his cock yet.

“You’re usually such a good boy, Sungie,” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. He leans into your touch, looking down at you with eyes that are so full and desperate.

“Always want to be good for you, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

You giggle, fingers tracing his cheek. “Yeah? You’re going to be obedient for me, and only me, right?”

He nods eagerly.

“Prove it.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. With a firm grip, he cups your thighs beneath his arms and tosses you against the leather sofa in his dressing room—the same one where you’d watched that makeup artist flirt with him. If only she were here now to see and hear everything she’d never get to experience.

You reach for his belt buckle, being just mindful enough to undress him carefully since he’s still in his shoot clothes—but only just. His shoes and clothes drop to the floor and he’s a lot less gentle when it comes to undressing you, tearing away every barrier that’s preventing him from making this up to you.

When you’re finally naked, Jisung sinks between your thighs, sinking a single digit into your needy wet cunt.

You mewl at the stretch of his fingers, enjoying the delicious burn shooting through you as he adds a second one. Jisung loved this part, prepping you and watching you get dizzy from just the length of his fingers. He loved seeing you squirm in pleasure – and truthfully – he’s starting to think he enjoys seeing you squirm with jealousy too. Even if that hadn’t been his original intention. 

He scissors his fingers meticulously, knowing every place he needs to touch to have you panting and moaning. When he feels you tighten around him, he does the only logical thing in his mind and leans in and starts to lap at your clit. You tremble, stomach contracting as you thread your fingers through his hair. Just feeling you writhe beneath him makes him smirk against you – he’s sick –  increasing the pace of his fingers.

“Fuck–Sungie” you pant, still twisting underneath him.

The pointed tip of his tongue works against your clit without stopping, warm breath coasting over you as his fingers curl specifically inside your until he finds the most sensitive spot that makes your knees quiver. 

“You gotta cum first,” he murmurs, the ripple of his deep voice vibrating against you. “I gotta make it up to you.”

You hum, a low, contented sound, tightening your grip on his hair and sinking further into the sofa as he licks at your pussy, relentless and thorough. His fingers glide effortlessly against your inner walls, pressing in just right without resistance. He works you into a frenzy until soft, needy whimpers spill from your lips. A flicker of worry crosses your mind that someone outside might hear—but then again, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

“Gotta make it up to my girl,” he murmurs, voice low and coaxing, “Cum for me, baby. Please, cum for me.”

And you do—so fucking hard. Your body tenses, pleasure tearing through you as his fingers stay persistent, thrusting even as he feels you clench around them. His mouth never leaves your swollen clit, tongue working you over until you’re unravelling completely beneath him. Your loud cries fill the space and send a clear message: he’s yours. 

Jisung doesn’t stop, his movements steady and focused, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from you as he watches, eyes dark with pride.

When he feels you coming down, Jisung pulls his fingers from you slowly, sliding them into his mouth, his eyes locked on yours as he tastes you. Your heart races at the sight and your eyes flash with renewed lust, the haze of desire clouding any other thought except one: you have to show him you’re his too.

Without a word, you push him back, guiding him to sit as you settle on his lap, trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck. You’re driven by that one thought: to make sure he feels just as claimed, just as wanted. He shivers beneath you, hands gliding to your hips, gripping as he tilts his head back.

"Baby, you don’t have to—this was supposed to be about you,” he mutters, voice thick and shaky.

You hush him with a smirk, fingers wrapping around him as you give a soft, teasing lick to his tip. His breath catches, eyes growing darker as he watches you, transfixed. His cock twitches in your hand, and without another word, you take him between your swollen lips—lips he’d claimed, lips he ached for.

Slowly, you let him fill your mouth, cheeks hollowing as you draw him deeper, savouring every reaction. His hand drifts to the back of your head, resting there, a gentle weight that spurs you on. As you start a steady rhythm, moaning softly, you feel his knees tremble, just like yours had. He sucks in a sharp breath, fingers twitching against the back of your head as he tries to keep himself steady, but his hips jerk up involuntarily at the heat of your mouth. 

“God, baby… feels so good,” he rasps, eyes half-lidded as he watches you. His pulse quickens with every slow pull of your lips, every hum you let slip that reverberates right through him.

You take him deeper, teasing the underside of his length with your tongue, relishing how his breathing gets rough and ragged. His fingers tighten just a bit, grounding himself against the overwhelming pleasure, though he’s still letting you set the pace, just like the good boy he wants to be for you.

One of your hands slips down to tease his balls, and you pull back just enough to catch a glimpse of him. His eyes are shut now, mouth open in bliss, and you smirk before taking him back between your lips. With each movement, you let your saliva coat his length, stroking him in sync with the rhythm you’d started.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasps, his hand still resting on your head, gentle but anchoring. “If you keep going like that—”

At the needy sound escaping him, you pull back, and he lets out a frustrated whine, his hips bucking instinctively to chase the pleasure you’ve just taken away.

“Baby…” he murmurs, almost breathless.

“If you really want to make it up to me, Sungie…” You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, his rock-hard cock trapped between your bodies. “Then I need you to fuck me,” you repeat, punctuating your words with a teasing bite at his collarbone.

His eyes darken, any trace of that desperate look disappearing as he slides his hands to your hips, gripping you hard enough to bruise, and strong enough to flip you over. He pulls your back flush against him, and you shiver at the low growl rumbling from his chest. His fingers dig into your hips, anchoring you in place as he teases, before he finally thrusts in–deep. 

Jisung stays buried deep inside you, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. You feel every inch of him, throbbing against your already sensitive walls, his balls pressing against your clit. And then he finally moves—fuck, it's good. Rough, and primal, and everything you both crave.

With each thrust, he hits deeper, his pace building as his frustrations melt into something raw and consuming. You arch your back, pushing into him, feeling his grip tighten. His breaths are hot against your shoulder as he leans down, voice a low whisper in your ear, “Yours.”

And you can’t help the smirk that creeps onto your lips as you gasp out, “Mine.”

“Is that what you wanted?” he murmurs, trailing his hand up your spine, feeling you shudder beneath his touch. “Wanted me to prove that you’re the only girl I think about? Show you that you’re the only one who gets to cum on my cock?”

You nod weakly, barely able to manage a breathy, “Yes.”

Your mind feels hazy, consumed by the way he fills you, the perfect burn and stretch as your body accommodates all of him. And trust, there’s a lot of him.

“Am I doing a good job at it?” he grinds out, pulling you upright so your back presses flush against his chest.

He grips your neck, claiming your lips in a kiss that travels along your shoulders and settles at your throat. He sucks a dark mark into your skin while his hands find your breasts, massaging them as he keeps his rough pace.

“So good,” you manage to say, clenching around him. “Always so good for me, Ji…”

He chuckles, pinching your nipple, causing a tiny yelp to escape your lips. “You never have to be jealous, baby,” he coos, “I only ever want to be good for you.”

You nod in agreement, revelling in the way his hands and cock explore every inch of your body. He knows you so well, and it’s clear from the way you’re panting—he’s always eager to please.

“Show me I’ve been a good boy and cum on my cock, baby,” he demands, but your mind is too foggy to process his words. Everything feels heated and overwhelming; his voice fades into a background hum as he pounds into you relentlessly. You’re too far gone to think about anything but him inside you. 

“Wanna feel you cum, Sungie,” is all you can manage to gasp out.

A low laugh echoes in your ear. “I will,” he promises, sliding one hand down to your belly. “Gonna cum right here and fill you up. But you have to cum first, okay? You always have to cum first.”

You whine and nod, squirming against him for a moment before he pushes you back down onto all fours.

“Good,” he purrs, snapping his hips against you. “I want to feel you cum.”

He’s fucking into you hard enough that the sound of your skin colliding echoes throughout the room—and probably outside too. You cling to the couch, overwhelmed by just how deep he is, tears brimming in your eyes from the intensity, but your body quickly adjusts, demanding more.

A thin layer of sweat glistens on Jisung’s forehead, mirroring the sheen that coats your body, but still, you crave more. You rock back into him, aided by his strong hands, feeling another orgasm building inside you. Jisung doesn’t let up when your movements falter, skillfully manipulating your body even as you start to shudder and whimper, even as your cunt pulses around him. He fucks you through the climax, grunting loudly, slowing just enough to savour the tightness of your walls around his cock.

You’re a puddle beneath him—and he knows it. Not wanting to overwhelm you any further, his thrusts slow down, becoming gentle and deliberate. You realize what he’s about to do; he’s going to pull out and neglect his own orgasm because he cares too much about you. And that’s when his cluelessness starts to kick in because you don't want that. You want—no, need—him to feel just as good as you do. You want him to use you because, just as he is yours, you’re his.

You wrap an arm around to grip his back, pulling his body against yours again. Glancing over your shoulder, you see his brows furrow and his mouth open to protest, but you silence him by pressing a finger to his jaw and capturing his lips in a heated kiss. Jisung catches on pretty quickly and his thrusts start again—wicked and rough. 

It’s clear he’s chasing his own climax this time, and you’re just helplessly being dragged along for the ride—but you don’t mind. Your body responds to him instinctively, craving him as pleasure spirals into more pleasure. You gasp for breath, another orgasm stirring within you as his cock swells inside you. 

With a throaty moan that nearly erupts into a roar, Jisung cums, burying himself deep as he spills into you. You shudder quietly, your eyes rolling back and mouth parting in bliss. His weight pins you down, and you sigh happily as he curls his body around you, allowing his cock to keep you full of his cum. It’s territorial and possessive. 

And just as you’re about to get lost in the afterglow with him, there’s a pounding at the door that snaps you both back to reality. You know exactly who it is. Her impatient knocks echo through the small room.

"Jisung! The shoot is about to start! It’s been way more than fifteen minutes!"

Panic jolts through you both. Jisung doesn’t waste a second before he scrambles off you. You quickly reach for your clothes, throwing them on in a rush, not even caring that his cum is dripping out of you. The post-orgasm haze starts to fade, and reality is crashing in—hard.

“Just a second!” Jisung calls, trying to smooth down his hair and fix his shirt. You can see the slight flush on his cheeks as he fumbles, still slightly dazed. 

The door swings open, and the makeup artist strides in, irritation radiating from her. She surveys the scene, her eyes narrowing. “What happened to you? Your makeup is a mess! Did you—did she make you cry?” Her gaze lands on you, accusatory. “I can have her removed from set if you—”

Jisung starts to speak up, ready to defend you, but the makeup artist’s eyes dart to the purple bruise blooming on his neck—the very mark you left. You can almost see the realization wash over her as the pieces fall into place.

Her expression shifts from annoyance to a mix of embarrassment and realization. “Oh,” she stammers, the colour draining from her face. “That’s not—” 

You can’t help the smirk that breaks across your face, a sense of triumph washing over you. Jisung doesn’t say anything and settles on rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well…it looks to me like you have a lot of work to do,” you tease, knowingly. 

The makeup artist huffs, visibly flustered. You stroll past her with a giggle, and just before you close the door behind you, you throw out a sarcastic, “Sorry about that.”

Pride bubbles inside you as you walk away. He’s yours, and that mark on his neck proves it.

[deansbeer]

♡ full of surprises ⎯⎯ vinnie hacker.

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

📖 LIBRARY !

SYNOPSIS. helping vinnie in the garage, your knowledge, and skills with cars over the years come to surface, unveiling a secret you'd kept hidden.

WARNING(S). fluff | smut | explicit language | thigh riding | fingering | f!reader | breeding kink.

kari talks ◞ while i was scrolling through pinterest, i fell down a rabbit hole of photos of vinnie working on cars.

the soft clanking and muttered curses drifting from the garage pull you away from your mindless scrolling on your phone. you glance at the clock, noticing it's past midnight already. vinnie told you he'd be done working on his car by now but it seems he's hit another snag in repairs.

sighing, you slide off the couch and pad down the hallway. vinnie's bent over the open hood distractedly turning a wrench, smears of grease decorating his gray tank top and forearms in a way that makes your heart flutter. you admire his toned physique for a moment, always loving when he gets hands on.

"any luck, babe?" you ask softly, not wanting to startle him. vinnie jerks up with a grimace, rubbing the back of his neck. "ah, no not yet. this damn fuel pump is being a real pain in my ass. i've replaced every other part but it just won't prime right."

he kicks the tire in frustration earning a soft chuckle from you. striding over, you stand on your tiptoes to peer into the engine compartment. years spent helping your dad under the hoods of countless vehicles have given you more than a casual understanding.

"mind if i take a look?" you inquire, already sliding some gloves from the table beside you. vinnie gapes at you in disbelief. "i had no idea you knew about cars, babe," disbelief colors his tone but you can also detect a hint of thrill at discovering another layer to you.

"my dad always said it's a good skill for any woman to have. now scoot over, let me see what's going on." vinnie readily obliges, interest overtaking his previous annoyance as you step into his place. running an analytical eye, you soon spot the issue.

"ah, there's your problem. the fuel filter is badly clogged, no wonder it can't draw fuel properly. just needs a replacement, should clear it right up." you declare confidently, removing the filter to examine. vinnie peers over your shoulder in amazement.

"damn baby, you never cease to surprise me. i'm seriously so impressed right now, you've got me feeling all kinds of things." he purrs against your ear, hands sliding around your waist from behind. a shiver runs down your spine at his breath on your skin but you maintain focus, humming thoughtfully.

"flattery will get you everywhere mister, now hand me the socket wrench so i can get this fixed," you demand gently, holding a hand back expectantly. vinnie hurriedly passes you the tool, enthralled by your take-charge demeanor. within minutes the new filter is installed and you're reassembling the compartment.

flicking your gloves away, you turn to face vinnie's adoring gaze with a smile. "alright big man, give her a start, and let's see if that did the trick." he grins, pressing a swift kiss to your lips in thanks before jumping into the driver's seat.

the cars roars to life on the first try, rumbling smoothly without any hiccups. vinnie whoops loudly, leaning out the window with glee. "fuck baby, you're amazing! that was the perfect fix. come here, i gotta give you a proper reward."

giggling, you allow vinnie to tug you into his lap as he's sat in the driver's seat. his mouth latches onto your neck desperately, hands roaming your sides. "i'm so turned on by how smart and skilled you are. drives me crazy knowing you could probably rebuild this engine from scratch if you wanted," he growls between kisses.

heat pools low in your belly at his adoring praise. you slide his hands up under your shirt, craving his touch. "mhm, maybe i will someday just to watch you swoon. but for now..." twisting, you capture vinnie's lips hungrily.

he sighs into the kiss, deepening it instantly as his tongue delves between your parted lips. you rock against his firm thigh. vinnie groans, hands gripping your hips to guide your movements.

"fuck, i need you so bad. let's take this inside, i wanna worship your perfect body properly." he breathes heavily, pupils blown wide with want. you nod eagerly, already scrambling from his lap toward the house. vinnie follows, hastily towing you the rest of the way by your wrist.

as soon as the bedroom door clicks shut he's pinning you against it feverishly. your shirt disappears followed by his as he assaults your collarbone with rough kisses and nips. a gasp escapes your throat, grabbing handfuls of his hair to encourage the delicious treatment.

vinnie hikes your legs around his waist, lifting as if you weigh nothing at all. the hard line of his erection presses relentlessly against your core through the multiple layers still separating you, seeking friction. you grind down needily, desperate for more contact.

"slow down, baby, 'm not going anywhere," he pants, carrying you to the bed and laying you out like a feast. vinnie quickly divests the rest of your clothing, gazing in awe at your naked form beneath him.

"so perfect, and all mine." his worshipping words steal your breath, stomach clenching deliciously. when his mouth latches onto a pert nipple to suckle, you cry out loudly at the exquisite sensation.

vinnie takes his time lavishing each breast and curve of your body with wet kisses and love bites, mapping every sensitive spot until you're writhing and begging for more. finally his fingers dip to your dripping core, circling your swollen clit teasingly.

"fuck vinnie!" you babble, back arching off the mattress at his feather light touches. he chuckles darkly, sinking two digits into your core. "you take my fingers so well baby. bet you'll feel even better wrapped around my cock though, what do you think?"

a choked moan is your only response, eyes rolling back as he pumps his fingers leisurely. vinnie slowly adds a third, stretching your entrance deliciously full. his thumb rolls firm circles over your clit in time, driving you to the edge at an agonizing pace.

just as your orgasm begins to crest, he removes his hand entirely leaving you keening. vinnie stands to remove the last of his clothing, hard length jutting proudly from his slender hips. the sight alone could make you cum but he hasn't given permission yet.

crawling back over you, vinnie slots his cock against your dripping entrance and leans down to claim your mouth in a filthy kiss. "gonna make you feel so good, fuck you senseless until you can't remember your name. that's what you want isn't it?"

you whimper desperately, nodding fervently against his lips. "please, i want to feel you so deep inside me. use me as rough as you like, i'm all yours baby." his restraint snaps, and with one powerful thrust, he's fully seated to the hilt within your clenching heat.

you cry out loudly at the relentless stretch, walls spasming deliciously around his girth. vinnie groans deeply, staying locked in place to adjust before beginning a punishing rhythm of hard, deep strokes. his hips snap violently, balls slapping your swollen flesh with each impact.

all you can do is hold on for dear life, nails raking down his sweat slicked back as he fucks you into oblivion. vinnie pistons his hips with animalistic drives, pounding directly into your most sensitive spots unerringly. a constant litany of filthy praises tumble from his pretty lips, only spurring you nearer the edge.

"fuck you look gorgeous taking my cock sweet girl, your pussy was made for me i swear. gonna fill you up, have your belly swollen with my babies, you want that, baby? want me to come inside you while i fuck my name out of that beautiful mouth?"

the depraved imagery plunges you over at last, walls constricting vinnie's member in a vice grip. your orgasm tears through you with ruthless intensity, eyes rolling back as you scream his name. he chases his own release, fucking you through the aftershocks until spilling deep within your quivering channel with a guttural groan.

collapsing together in a sweaty heap, you trade sloppy kisses and whispered 'i love you's' while coming down from ecstasy. vinnie curls around your sated form protectively, pressing sweet affection into any skin he can reach.

"you never cease to amaze me, sweetheart. i love how full of surprises you are, constantly keeping me on my toes. and damn do i love when you take charge like that, so fucking hot." he sighs contentedly, nuzzling your hair.

[sofisweb]

₊　　　˙　　⠀⠀✦⠀　　　˙　　₊　

Cuddles

summary: your cuddling with Daryl :)

Fluff, kissing, cuddling, sweetness.⠀　˙　　₊　˙　　₊　 reader x Daryl

setting: farm era ˙　　₊　

₊　　　˙　 Word count: 315 (it’s short sorry)

“Daryl we gotta get up..”

You murmured gently against his skin, interrupting the silence with a small yawn as his arm squeezed you gently. The sun crept through gaps of your tent, painting your face gently. You rolled over onto your other side with a small groan.

You heard a grumble escape the archers lips as he pulled you closer, burying his face into the side of your neck. “Five more minutes..”

His hands moved to your hips unconscionably, kneading gently as small kisses were peppered down along the side of your neck. A small smile crept up onto your face as you gave in with a dramatic sigh.

You rolled over once more, now facing him while his head didn’t move. His hands moved to your back, the other down to your thigh as he kneaded at it affectionately in a cat like manner, causing a small giggle to escaping your lips.

One of your hands moved to the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his messy hair while the other moved to his back, tracing circles with your thumb.

It was peaceful like this, calm and wrapped in a warm embrace. You wish you could stay like this forever- if you could’ve met Daryl before the world went to chaos. But you’ve got Daryl now, and that’s all your happiness needs.

He moved his head away, leaving a trail of small kisses before his lips met yours. You hummed against his lips, the hand that was on his back cupping his cheek as you pulled him in closer- if even possible.

Your legs tangled with Daryl’s, moving a leg away to wrap around his waist causing a small groan to escape his dry lips.

“You drive me crazy, woman..” He grumbled against your lips as you smiled against his.

You pulled away, Daryl leaning over to you for a moment but deciding on resting his head on your shoulder instead.

Your hands moved away for a moment, your arms wrapping around his torso into a tight hug once more.

“We gotta get up.” You heard him grumble, back to his usual self. “Five more minutes..”

I seriously gotta write about other people

[missbellamere]

pairing: vi x pageantgirl!reader headcanons

sfw + nsfw no specific appearance traits is assigned to reader! enjoy!

yall know me from the bait x male reader fics this is my attempt to actually contribute

sfw:

-THE pageant girlfriend: she will drive/fly with you to competitions, cheer the loudest when you're on-stage, and take photos for instagram (she's basically a trained photographer at this point)

-DOWN BAD for you when you wear your evening gown for competitions, esp the ones with high high slits

-takes and saves the pictures for later encourages you and give you SO much praise when you practice your walk in front of her for the swimsuit competition

-she insists she helps you practice interview to help hold eye contact ;)

-absolutely would bring cozy slippers and carry your 5-inch heels for you after you get offstage

-lowkey gets possessive when you get hit on by men

-but that's okay because her girl can wear whatever she wants because vi will beat the absolute shit out of those men

-people thought she was your bodyguard and they were a bit surprised to find out that you liked girls (queer pageant girl struggles...)

-would totally run a fan account and make edits of you but wouldn't tell you and people kept on wondering where the account got pics that nobody has seen before

-yall are literally the hottest it-couple

-carries your crown case, your bags, basically EVERYTHING when you go somewhere to make an appearance with your pageant title

-your pageant friends are her friends!! they keep on asking where they can get a supportive partner for themselves cuz vi is such a lifesaver in competitions

-if you don't use professional hair and makeup, vi would def try her best to do your eyeliner to make them twins

-"I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT HER TI-T-T-T-FACE" - prob vi

-lets you put the crown on her for shits and giggles

-brings the fattest banquet of flowers to every one of your pageant finales

-SCREAMS HISTERICALLY like a crazy fan when you get called for the winner

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

mdni

nsfw:

-she respects that your makeup can't be ruined between competitions, so she waits patiently :)

-when she gets possessive, she literally can't wait to peel that dress off of you when you get back to the hotel

-crazy noise complaints

-absolutely LOVES ruining your stage makeup with your mascara and eyeliner running down your face when she makes you cry with her strap

-your swimsuit routine practices always occasionally turns into something more...

---

a/n: deep apologies for my lack of nsfw content here but I can't come up with anything pageant specific... yet.

in honor of miss america finale yesterday!! (I'm here to say that texas got robbed because I can't say that on my pageant instagram account or else I'll get cancelled. no but seriously. this is the THIRD year in a row that 2nd place was a black woman and a blonde girl won... also texas ate all the competitions like what???)

this is my love letter to all the straight-passing and hyper femmes esp ones living in the south <3

[arminsumi]

we've had ex geto... but what about ex gojo?

YOUR FAVORITE EX

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Note : ooo... ex gojo 🤤 hope u likey

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : contains smut/explicit content, kinda toxic themes, some angst, baby trapping, pregnancy, dirty talk, unprotected sex + creampies, possessiveness

Playme : streets

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works / oct. reqs open

Ex!Gojo makes the break up everyone's business. And of course it's you breaking up with his obnoxious, overdramatic ass. Multiple times, too. You two have broken up so many times in fact that your friends just don't take it seriously anymore when you announce "We're breaking up". That just means "We're getting back together in two weeks (lol)."

Ex!Gojo pulls the "I can't find anyone like you" and the "Aw, don't be like that, baby" cards on you.

Ex!Gojo claims to be your favorite ex. Yeah you hate him... buuut he's still your favorite... right? Right? He'll nag you to admit it. It makes his heart flutter and ego swell bigger than his head.

Ex!Gojo is a menace, always deterring your potential new lovers and declining dates on your behalf. He gives you a stupid excuse with that cheeky smirk, "What? It's not like they could love you better than me, anyways. I'm the best. Don't waste your time. Just come back to me, yeah? You know my arms are still open to you."

Ex!Gojo doesn't act like an ex at all. He still kisses you. Still hugs you. Invites you for every party. Visits your apartment at 2 AM when he's drunk and rambles to you about all the crazy things he always rambled about at 2 AM. And you don't treat him like an ex because... his kisses put you in a trance. Then you realize oh, we're broken up, what the hell.

Ex!Gojo clings to your body and holds it with the same possessiveness that he always used to. He places his big hand on your hip and grips it tight, especially at parties. "Stay close to me."

Ex!Gojo taunts you during those late-night hatefucks, "You missed this fat cock fucking up your guts, huh? I know you did. Don't you fucking lie to me." while he's balls deep in you, skin slapping loudly against yours in the backseat of his car. He just kindly offered you a drive home, and then one thing led to another and you ended up on his lap having his big hands moving your hips up and down. "That's it, admit how much you missed me 'n bounce on this cock, baby. Admit it."

Ex!Gojo fucks you harder when he's your ex, making sure you're super full and stuffed with his cock. He loves molding your tiny hole to accommodate his shape, hitting your sweet spots with mean pounding thrusts until you scream those three little words for him. "I miss you!" he smiles when he hears this, presses his forehead to yours and coos while cumming inside, "Missed you too, baby. Missed this pussy. You know it's m-mine forever, don't you? No one can fuck you better than I can..." and it's true, no one knows the map of your sweet spots and erogenous zones better than he does. He's masterful at pleasuring you.

Ex!Gojo cums inside you more than he did while you two were dating. Who knows why. Seems like his animalistic, primal brain kicked in and he thought well if I put a baby in you... you'll have a piece of me forever. You'll have to come back to me. And his seed is potent. You bet you're getting pregnant. He has the wolfiest smile when you bitterly show him the pregnancy test. "Ooh, baby I'm so proud of that little pussy for getting pregnant. Let's have a celebratory fuck."

Ex!Gojo knows that no matter where you go, he'll always find you. His high school sweetheart. His five year girlfriend. The mother of his child. The only woman that's ever had such a strong hold on him. The only one he's ever been weakened by.

Ex!Gojo cries sometimes after creaming up inside your pussy, "Please come back... I miss you so bad..." and starts sobbing like a puppy into the crook of your neck when you run your fingers through his snowy hair.

Ex!Gojo feels his broken heart get pieced back together when you finally return to him. And just like that, he slots half his soul into yours. "Baby... you're the best thing this world ever gave me. Just let me marry you, please..."

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[houpss]

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

soft and fluff, will be about all members (!), there may be hints of smut

Chan, who sees the meaning of life in you and wants to see you always in front of him all his life.

What do they say? People who truly love will die one day.

Chan, who promised to love you until the day death finds him, and even after that. He doesn't want to leave you.

The most tender dates, the most tender times. He will give you all his love and attention.

Chan, who tells the members so much about you, you are their “9th member”

Chan, who you're talking to video call with his family! and btw with yours too.

Chan, who, regardless of how busy the day is, will spend the evenings with you. Whether it's cooking or watching a movie/serials/k drama

Chan, who remembers every little thing about you and does what you don’t even ask for, but are clearly thinking about.

Meeting Chan was fate, maybe you were given each other by fate?

Oh..he looks at you like an angel, his eyes shine so brightly when he sees you!

Chan, who gives you a large bouquet of your favorite flowers every Friday.

He writes you songs, from the sad to the most vulgar... oh, the boy is simply overwhelmed with emotions for you.

Chan, who takes you on all his world tours because he finds it difficult without you.

He is the most gentle and sweetest with you! your heart literally breaks with love for him, you want to love and kiss this man.

Chan, who sits you on his lap while he works and holds your waist with one hand...babe, he has hot and big hands

Chan, who pays for ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING for you. seriously, even if you argue with him.

I wrote this situation, but...

"Channie, make me some coffee please"

"Ugh...I'm late, little mouse"

"So you won't do it? :("

"That means I’ll be late” and goes to make coffee for his beloved woman/man

His favorite terms of endearment for you are subtle but classic: “sweetheart” and “baby,” but on special occasions he will call you “sweetheart” with a matching saccharine expression. Or “little mouse”, which is also very cute

Chan, sometimes he can get angry and yell at you, but that's because he puts too much pressure on himself at work.

Oh..during your quarrels even plates and insults fly. After one quarrel, there were broken plates and you cut yourself, he noticed this and took you to the bathroom, where he treated the wound and apologized to you almost a hundred times. And the plates...buy new ones.

Chan, who practices flirting with you like you're in high school, but he learned it from STAY

Chan, who gives you all his hoodies and absolutely everything... for some reason you love to steal his shorts and walk around the house in them. Ooh, he thinks they fit really sexy on your hips.

He'll give you a bear hug when you sleep, he's a big spoon

He also always kisses your forehead when he leaves for work, because you are still sleeping, and he is already leaving.

but keep in mind, Chan makes sweet sex to you, but his stroking game is so crazy, even when he takes his time with you, he's so deep inside you that it drives you crazy, you're literally pray

Chan is an experienced and mature man, he is completely confident in himself and in you. He takes the leading position in the relationship, he is the one who leads.

Do I need to tell you that all his things smell like your perfume? What if all your things are in his perfume?

You sometimes help him with lyrics or with song arrangements when he gets stuck and doesn’t understand what’s best to add.

You, who pulls the vat out of the studio.

You, who always checks how he ate or how much he slept. You absolutely monitor his regime and make sure he doesn’t overwork.

You are flying to Australia together to visit his family! they will bless your couple.

Hannah will definitely say funny things about Chris, and Lucas is so shy around you.

Oh...Berry, baby Berry 🥹🥹🥹

How about date nights?

You really raised Chan's self-esteem, with you...he fell in love with himself, just as you love him.

He's just grateful that you exist.

First love is always last love.

“Home” is not a place, it is sometimes only a man, the man whom you consider your home.

When you come, all Chan’s problems and wounds heal, he wants to live next to you.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Going Public || CL16

Another little blurb that was sitting in my drafts... F1 Masterlist

“We heard your girlfriend is a driver for Ferrari too, can we expect a friendly race anytime soon?”

Charles smiled towards the Ferrari crew that was watching the interview from the side of the stage, knowing you were somewhere among them. “Oh no, she’s way too competitive, and unless it’s in a F1 car she will 100% beat me.”

The interviewer laughed along with the crowd. “Surely not?”

“She’s absolutely fearless!” he said seriously as he sat up straighter. “And she’s not even a racer.”

The woman frowned as she looked at her cue card. “I thought she was a driver?”

You saw the pride on Charles' face when he grinned at Carlos sitting next to him, who was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. 

“She is, but she doesn’t race.” The interviewer was growing more confused and you could see the fans taking all the information in to try and figure out your identity after nearly a year of dating under the radar.

“She drives the transporter rig,” Carlos clarified with a laugh. “Which is perfect because Charles can’t parallel park to save his life, so he gets his girlfriend to do it for him. She is very good at it.”

The People’s Prince of Monaco is dating a Trucker???

The F1 Gossip pages were going crazy after the interview and you sat scrolling through them with an amused chuckle. 

“Babe, have you seen this one?” you asked as you showed him the latest meme. Some clever person had taken a picture of an overweight middle-aged man in a red plaid shirt over a dirty wife-beater, slapped a Ferrari badge on his truck and trailer and a long blonde wig on his head. The caption: Leclerc’s new girl. “I wish I could pull off that shirt.”

Two weeks later.

The camera crew were waiting out on the track and you caught Charles’ eyes in the mirror as you fixed your hair. 

“Ready, mi amor?” 

“How do I look?” you asked as you gave him a spin to show off your outfit. 

“Gorgeous as always,” he said with a wink. “And a little bit scary if I'm honest.”

You straightened up the collar of the red plaid shirt and brushed your fingers along his jaw. “Is it the wife beater or the wig?”

“Maybe the big dick energy?”

“Gotta play the part, baby,” you teased as you swaggered over to the door with exaggerated steps. “This is what your fans are expecting of me.”

Marketing and Promo were having a field day. They had scoured the internet for ideas to make this video after Charles had given them the heads up that you were going to take your relationship public. You were both more than happy to make it a unique announcement since a sense of humour was something that you both shared.

The final cut was a work of art, and you had watched it at least three times over as your stomach ached from all the laughter. There had been parking challenges, slalom races through cone tracks, and even hot laps around the circuit in Imola. It had been an absolute thrill to shoot, especially with the ridiculous costume, but you were glad to be back in your own clothes.

“Well at least you didn’t lie in that interview,” you pointed out after seeing the final score for the challenges. “You won the F1 race.”

Charles draped a lazy arm over your shoulders and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke, “Would you believe if I said I practised reversing and parallel parking with Pierre all week?”

You paused the replay on the tv and shifted onto his lap, cradling his face in your palms. “Oh, my love, Pierre can’t park any better,” you said before your lips twitched with a suppressed smile. “You should have asked Kika.”

[xoxoavenger]

What Is This Feeling?

pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Dean are certainly feeling something for each other, they just can't exactly put their finger on it. In the meantime, they'll rip each others throats out and annoy Castiel and Sam.

word count: 3003

warnings: a small mention of alcoholism, intense enemies to lovers, based on 'What Is This Feeling' from Wicked, you may think this is isn't Christmas themed but there is a grinch reference thrown around a couple times (I couldn't help myself)

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Dean had never felt this way about anyone before.

It was surprising, because he had been in a lot of relationships with a lot of women. But something about this woman made his head reel in a dangerous way. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, at least not until he talked to Sam.

"I swear, ever since the moment I saw her I've felt this way." He tells Sam as they drink beer in the library.

"Hm," Sam says, still looking at his book. He clearly is not too interested in what Dean has to say, which causes him to be a little upset.

"I'm being serious! I don't understand it." He knows he's whining, but he wishes there was a way for him to know what this feeling was. It's been driving him crazy for months on end. 

"Are you sure it's not love?" Sam asks as he looks over, and Dean makes a face.

"Definitely not love. More like," It's on the tip of his tongue, and his mouth turns down as he figures out what makes him dizzy about her.

Y/N and Castiel are having the same conversation in her room, just down the hall, at the same time.

"He makes my heart race. I've never felt anything like it. I can literally feel the blood leaving my face just talking about this." She tells him, swirling her wine in her glass. Cas frowns.

"It sounds like you're in love." He says in that stupid low voice, and she wants to hit him at just the word.

"Absolutely not. It feels more intense. Like," She narrows her eyes, because she knows exactly what the feeling is.

"Loathing."

~

After the two of them figure it out, their relationship somehow gets worse. Sam and Castiel can only sit on the couch of the hotel room, each holding a beer. The only thing that would make it picture perfect is if they were eating popcorn. Sam would get up and pop it if he didn't know that Dean would deck him for even thinking about standing and interrupting their argument.

"How could you let it go?" Y/N yells from her side of the room. Sam and Cas swing their eyes over to Dean as if this were a baseball game.

"Let it go?" Dean repeats, barely able to stop himself from sputtering. "What, did you want it to kill you? Or maybe I should have shot you and hoped the bullet went all the way through?" He yells, because the stupid werewolf had been able to run after they'd been track it the past couple days. Everyone knew the likelihood of them being able to find and track it again, especially so soon.

"I'm sorry, is your aim that bad that you couldn't shot it without shooting me?" She knows, deep down, that the werewolf was wrapped around her, that it would have been hard to get a clean shot with then way he was holding her like a shield. Cas had been able to swing and slice a chunk of the werewolf's arm with his angel blade, and the werewolf had made it's escape while Y/N fell to the ground and Dean had gone to her side instead of shooting at it, like Sam had been.

"Seriously? You know that thing was wrapped around you like a freaking slinky. Do you have a death wish?" He shoots, and she turns, putting her fingers to her forehead in annoyance. "Why are you turned around now?" He asks, and she explodes.

"Your face is annoying me!" She says it far too loud, and Sam and Cas exchange a look of surprise before looking to Dean. This has officially gone from arguing about the hunt to personal attacks.

"Ugh!" Dean groans, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. "I need alcohol just to deal with your voice." He says, and she turns back around, steam practically coming out of her ears.

"Are you angry because they didn't have a new jacket at army surplus? Too bad the old one has a knife shaped whole in it. Although, that probably made it look better." She's going after whatever she can think of, and she knows this isn't going to stop any time soon.

"Alright," Sam stand, putting his hands up. It's gone on a little too long, and he's sure any minute now they're going to get a call from the front desk because neighbors started complaining about the noise. "Let's just say you two hate each other and call it a day, yeah?" He suggests, and Y/N shakes her head.

"It's so much more than hate." She's staring daggers at Dean, who is chugging his beer.

"Finally something we can agree upon." He says as he pulls the bottle away and wipes his mouth, and she just rolls her eyes.

"He makes my skin fucking crawl, Sam. I can't stand him." She says, as if Dean isn't in the room at all.

"What about him makes you so angry?" Sam asks, and she doesn't even need to look at him to answer.

"Everything. All of it." She says, and Sam takes a deep breath.

"Okay," Sam is trying to keep his cool, but he kind of wants to laugh. This entire situation is childish, and he can't believe the two haven't figured their shit out yet. "Y/N and Cas, you share a room tonight."

"I couldn't handle her being in here anyway." Dean says, finishing the beer and throwing it in the trash before immediately grabbing a new one.

"Is it wrong to call him an alcoholic?" Y/N asks as Cas grabs her arm and starts to walk her to the door. "Because personally, I think it's just saying the truth, but I know some people,"

"Please stop," Cas begs quietly, opening the door. Dean has fire in his eyes, and she's lucky her back is turned when Dean starts to stalk toward her. Sam has to grab him and pull him back as Cas pulls her out the door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?" Sam asks finally as the door shuts and he lets go of his brother.

"Me?" Dean asks incredulously. "She's the one who started it!" He argues, and Sam just shakes his head.

"Y/N is a nice person. She gets along great with everyone else, and she always makes friends with people on cases. She even somehow has demons that like her more than you do. So yes, I think you're the problem." Sam tells his brother, and Dean just gets even angrier.

"She hates me too! There's not much I can do here, anyway." He argues, grabbing his stuff and walking to the bathroom.

"Maybe she wouldn't hate you if you weren't such a dick to her." Sam says, because he knows his brother can be a little rough around the edges, but Dean usually isn't this rude or upset with someone. There has to be a reason why they loathe each other, and Sam doesn't think it has anything to do with loathing.

~

"So, why do you hate him?" Cas asks Y/N as they pack up the next morning. The angel had let her off the hook the night before, but he needed answers now.

"Well, ever since the beginning, there's just been something about him. And I usually get along with everyone. But he doesn't make it easy, exactly." She says. She doesn't like talking about it, because she doesn't have a good reason for the feelings that bubble up every time she sees Dean.

"It sounds like you don't hate him." Cas tells her simply, and she just blinks.

"You're right, Cas. I loathe him. Entirely." She frowns, zipping up her bag. Cas doesn't know what to do about this. He just wants Y/N and Dean to get along, because he's getting so tired of them fighting so much. It's every time they see each other, every time they're together. It doesn't even matter if they're on a case, or who's watching.

A point proven when a couple hours later, on the way back to the bunker, they stop at a diner and a fight ensues.

"Just because you're the one who lost the werewolf doesn't mean you have to take it out on us by making us stop at the shitiest place." She tells him after they'd ordered. True, this diner didn't exactly live up to any standards, but she was overreacting slightly because of her feelings.

"I'm sorry you're just so entitled that you have to have a five star meal, but we don't exactly have the funds for that. Maybe, if you put in a bit more of your own work, rather than just joining all of our hunts, we'd have more money for better food." Dean goes off, voice raising. Instead of sending him a glare to quiet the argument like she normally does in public spaces, she doubles down.

"We have plenty of money, you asshat! You just need the greasiest burger you can get your hands on, because it reminds you of life on the road with your dad." She shoots back, and some people near them have started to stare. She doesn't have it in her to care anymore, and can only barely stop herself from telling Dean that their cards are fake and so is their money.

"Seriously? You think you can read me? Well, you're not a closed book!" Dean yells, far too loud for the small diner. "You're only with us because you're lonely and terrifies you. You've lost everyone you've ever cared about, which keeps you from caring too much now even when you're nice to everyone. And if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here." The words are barely out of his mouth before Y/N launches across the table, legs underneath her on the chair and arms out to choke him. One hand grabs his head and she's able to push it to the table once, hard, before Dean gets his bearings and puts his hands on her wrists.

"You think you're so smart, Winchester? You're a boy who grew up too fast and never had a childhood. Your whole adulthood has been you acting childish, because around your dad you were never allowed to. I get you had a bad life, but you think you're the only fucking one?" She grumbles into his face, fingers still twisted in his hair. He scowls, because she hit the nail on the head.

"I don't give a shit about what you think happened. I know a lot of people who were dealt a shittier hand than me. But at least I'm trying to make the world a better place. You act like you owe everyone you meet something, as if you're the reason their life ended up the way it did. News flash, the world doesn't revolve around you!" He yells in her face. She moves to get up onto the table to get better grip and maybe even choke him with her thighs.

"Okay!" Castiel grabs her leg as she tries to move, pulling her back. She's still got a grip on Dean's hair, so she pulls him too.

"Ow!" He yells as she grabs her fingers and unwinds them from his head. Y/N ends up on her back in the booth, Castiel holding her legs.

"It's time." Cas says as he looks at Sam.

"Time for what?" Y/N asks, getting up on her elbows and trying to kick her legs out of Cas' grip. He just holds on tighter, then nods at Sam before sliding out of the booth, his hands still gripping her ankles.

"Let go of me!" Dean yells, definitely causing a scene. And then, Cas gets up and pulls Y/N's legs with him, holding them over his head so she doesn't hit anything. Curse his stupid fucking angel strength.

"Cas!" She shrieks, grabbing her shirt to keep it from falling and revealing her stomach and bra to the entire diner, all of which were watching now.

"Which way to your bathrooms?" Cas asks calmly, as if he's not carrying a full grown woman upside down. The server points to the side, and Cas and Sam drag Y/N and Dean into the bathroom. Y/N's laid down on her back, confused out of her mind, and Dean is yelling at Sam as the younger Winchester pushes him into the small one-hole bathroom.

"What the hell?" Dean yells. Y/N turns on her stomach, and Dean turns toward the door just in time to see it slam closed.

"Fuck," She mutters, getting up and moving to the door. She tries to open it, but the handle won't even budge. "They're holding the door closed." She tells Dean, who instantly moves to where she had been to try and open it.

"Let us out!" Dean screams when it becomes clear that he won't be able to open it either.

"Nope!" Sam yells out, sounding far too excited. It makes Y/N even more mad than she is right now.

"You two need to work it out. And until you do, you aren't leaving that bathroom." Cas says through the door. Y/N wants to pull her hair out.

"Ugh!" Y/N screams, taking in the bathroom. It's old and a little dirty, and she hates the smell.

"You have no room to complain. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here." He tells her, leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms.

"Me?" She asks incredulously. She cannot believe the gall of this man. "You've got to be kidding."

"You started the whole fight!" He throws his arms out, and she thinks her eyes may pop out of her head. She takes a deep breath, because she wants to get out of this bathroom before she's forced to pee in front of Dean.

"Why did you let the werewolf get away?" She asks quietly. It's the softest tone she's ever used with him. He sighs, unable to look at her.

"How many times do we have to go over this? I didn't let it get away. Sorry your hunting standards are so high, but it's not like you were helping either." The way he says it, the tone so crisp and the words practiced, she knows he's lying.

"I'm not trying to make fun of you." She tells him, grabbing some paper towels and wiping off the water on the counter. "I just know you're lying, and I want to know why." She tells him, throwing the towels away before sitting on the counter.

"How would you know if I'm lying?" He asks defensively, and she rolls her eyes as she tries to tamp down her own snarky response.

"Dean," She groans, taking a deep breath. "I know that we aren't exactly close. But we aren't going to get out of this bathroom until we tell the truth, and I'm actually kinda hungry." She says, and she sees his exterior crack a little bit. He breathes out a long sigh, then looks from the ground to the wall.

"I did let the werewolf get away. You were right. I could have helped Sam go after it. I probably would have been able to shoot it." He admits, and it honestly surprises her. She didn't think he would tell her, at least not until they had been in there for an hour. She was about to push when he starts talking again. "I just saw you fall to the ground, and your eyes rolled back into your head, and I thought that you were more hurt somehow. I just needed to make sure that you were alright, and finding the werewolf was the furthest thing from my mind." It's silent in the bathroom, and Y/N is sure that Cas and Sam are listening. Dean looks at her, and they lock eyes for a few long moments.

"Why would you care?" She asks quietly, but it still echoes in the tiled room. Dean clenches his fists, rolling his eyes and walking towards her.

"I don't actually hate you." He says, standing far too close to her.

"Loathe entirely?" She asks with a small smile, heart racing. She's not sure why, exactly, but she can feel her face heating as well.

"No," He chuckles, shaking his head. "But I think it may start with an L." He walks even closer, his hands going to each side of her hips. She can smell his body spray, the smell of him that hangs around the bunker and usually infuriates her.

She realizes that maybe now she isn't infuriated with him. She's infatuated.

"I think I feel it too." She tells him, voice low as her gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

"I'm sure you do." He says with a smirk.

"Alright." She chuckles, throwing her head back in fake annoyance. He grabs the back of her head however, and pulls her into a searing kiss. All their emotions, all the heart racing and dizziness and blushing has all lead up to this kiss, where their lips move in tandem and their teeth clack as they both open their mouths. Y/N's pushed against the mirror by Dean, one of his hands slamming against it. She moans as her body arches into his, and her groans into her mouth as he puts one hand behind her back, pushing her impossibly closer.

"Do you think they're physically fighting?" Cas asks from outside the door. Both him and Sam have their ears pressed the door, however Sam is slowly starting to lean back.

"They're physically doing something." He replies, frowning. Cas jerks back, letting go of the door handle as he realizes what Sam is insinuating. 

"I'm not sure if this is going to be better than them fighting." The angel says, and the two go back to their table, where food is waiting for them.

"Worse." Sam says, trying not to imagine all of the shit that's about to go down in the bunker. "Definitely worse." 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @king-of-milf-lovers @lyarr24

[fancyfeathers]

Always Prey But Never A Bird

Based on the Yandere Batfam w/ Wife/Mother!Darling & Daughter/Sister!Darling series

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Twelve -> Next Chapter

Taglist: @jsprien213 @toast-on-dandelioms @plsfckmedxddy @lilyalone @sydneyyyya @yandere-wishes @cxcilla @nemesis-writer @sadslasher13

“This was her last known location,” Foxglove spoke as she stood on top of the Novick Building where your emergency alert was sent out, Clove, Nettle, and Henbane were all with her in their suits and each of them looked over the scene, not a trace of anything or anyone being there. Foxglove looked around until her eyes fell upon one of the security cameras on a nearby building. “If I could get access to Mr. Austen’s network I could piece together about a quarter of the camera in the city and we could maybe see where she is, but that is a huge maybe.”

“Well Clove and I could drive down to meet him, he’ll probably be able to help us- does anyone hear that?” Nettle began to speak but was cut off by a buzzing sound in his ear from the comm lines which should be off since everyone on their team who was active was right on that rooftop. “I’m not crazy right?” “No, you are not crazy.” There was a new voice on the comm lines, a female voice, one that was unfamiliar to all of your friends and teammates, but one that you would have recognized in an instant, Barbara Gordon. “Don’t panic, I’m a friend, my name is Oracle and I want to help find your friend just like you.”

“I’m sorry, but Oracle we don’t know who you are and our friend was just kidnapped-”

“Come to the Old Wayne Tower, there is a garage door in an alley off of Kane Street that is closed to the public, you can park your vehicles there and there will be someone down there to meet you and bring you up to the clocktower.” Clove was interrupted by the mysterious woman who hacked into their network, or maybe she already had. “Also you guys really need to get a more secure security system, this is the second network of yours that I have gotten into.”

“Oh so you are with the Bat, aren’t you?” Clove questioned and there was a hum from the other end of the line from Oracle.

“More or less, look, just get here within the hour, we don’t have much time to lose here.” There was the sound of keys on a keyboard being clicked before Oracle's line went dead. 

“Jesus… so we are supposed to listen to her?” Henbane groaned, glancing around at your teammates and they all just stood there in silence with their own thoughts about what had just transpired. “Guys, seriously?!”

“Well, what else are we supposed to do?” Nettle replied, shrugging his shoulders and walking toward the edge of the building. “Our friend is missing and the Bat wants to work together, or at least his friends do, I’d rather not wait around and see what happens.”

“He does have a point, we aren’t exactly in a position to refuse,” Clove responded, following after Nettle while speaking over to the most muscular of the bunch, after all Henbane was built like he was supposed to have powers but they just never came to him like a recessive gene. “Look if we don’t like the vibe they’re giving off we’ll just leave, but something tells me they’ll have more resources to find her than we do.”

“God… I would follow you all into hell and you would say it’s fine.”

______________________

You did not like the room where you were kept in, not the fact that it was nice but the fact that there were no windows, no sound outside of the room, and no one to talk to once Gabriel left you alone, putting on that unsettling owl mask as he called you sweet pet names like he always did before this, meanwhile you were left to cope with the fact that the man you had thought you were in love with was an absolute monster, one who would kill his mother with no remorse in the slightest, he almost seemed giddy at the mere mention of the blood and gore he had created. 

You had been changed out of your suit while you were unconscious, which you were not exactly surprised by since he had seen how your suit was put on that night at the museum, you were now wearing a long yellow skirt and white button-up shirt with a cream colored vest and black ribbon tie, the clothing was almost reminiscent of the old school uniform of your high school you wore when you had started dating Gabriel, though this version was far less like a uniform and rather more like the sort of clothes that detective characters in books or movies would have worn. There was not much to do besides read the few books that were lying on the side tables by the bed, mostly history books or historical fiction, fitting for Gabriel’s interests in historical works that started when you were in high school.

You groaned and tossed the book onto the bed as you stood up from the armchair you sat in, you had read that book a few years prior back at the manor, a recommendation from Jason. Your stocking-covered feet led you over to the wardrobe, bored out of your mind, and you opened the heavy doors of the antique piece of furniture and inside were dress clothes, the kind someone like you, who grew up in money, would wear on the daily, there were dresses, skirts, and blouses, all most likely for you, but there were also nice dress shirts, pants, and vests most likely for Gabriel. Your hands drifted to the sleeves of one of Gabriel’s dress shirts, your fingers tracing the seams of the expensive silk shirt and then your fingers felt something, a pocket that was sewn into the inside of the shirt’s sleeves, your fingers slipped inside the shirt to feel the size of the pocket more accurately and you felt out the shape of the pocket to be the perfect size of a small throwing knife, although it was empty currently. It should not have surprised you, knowing who he actually was and his family owning the largest high fashion company in the country would have made it easy for him to get his hands on custom-made fashion pieces like this. You then checked the sleeves of your own clothing and there was no such a thing in any of your own, but then you looked over all of his clothing, suit jackets, shirts, pants, most of them had some sort of hidden pockets to hide what he needed to be hidden. Hidden weapons mixed with his false persona that charmed almost all of Gotham made him such a deadly person with such a wicked heart inside of him hidden behind all that kindness and smiles he showed you.

“The young master picked out every piece in there for you personally.” A new voice spoke up suddenly, you did not even hear the heavy doors to the room open. You whipped your head around to see a young woman in a long red dress, curled and styled brown hair, but she wore that same white owl mask that hid her expression and face from you which was unsettling, to say the least. The unknown woman took a step towards you which made you flinch at first but then she just continued walking forward towards you, if anything she was amused by your reaction. “I know you probably don’t remember me since it has been quite a while since we last met, it’s been almost five years since graduation.”

“We… We went to high school together?” You paused, pondering her words, honestly, you should have guessed if one person in your life who you were close to that was outside of your family was a part of such a cult-like organization you should have guessed all of them were a part of the Court of Owls. “I’m sorry, I don’t recognize you… the mask and all.”

“Ah… well I suppose that would be another reason.” Her hands then reached up and removed her mask, you did recognize her from your high school days, her name was Clara O’hare, and she was a friend of yours from the gardening club, one of the few things your father and siblings allowed you to participate in mostly because it was only active for such a short part of the year because of the harsh winter and autumn weather of Gotham. She was kind to you, she was one of the few people you would have called a close friend. If it was not for the given circumstances of your current reunion you would have run up to hug her, but instead, you were just left staring at her. She smiled at you and reached out, her free hand that did not hold her mask wrapped around you in a hug, a soft hum coming from her lips that rang in your ear. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been so long.”

“Are… are all of you like this from school?” You asked, your voice completely flat, no emotion showing despite the shock and terror in your veins, you were honestly terrified when you met Scarecrow but you covered it up, staying calm under stress was one of the first things you learned when you took to the streets of Gotham. You reached up and pushed away your once friend and you saw the look of betrayal on her face when you did not want her near you. “Everything was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“No! No, I would… I… I’m sorry…”

“You… I don’t know what I expected.” You shook your head and moved past her to sit down on the bed, your arms coming around you to hug yourself. She looked at you like she wanted to say something but she didn’t know what to say to you now in your current state. “I… I don’t want any of this… I…”

“I know this is probably a lot, but the Judge of Owls is-”

“Judge of Owls? You mean Gabriel?”

“Well, you are the only one who calls him by that name here.” She replied, walking over to you and sitting down next to you down on the bed, and reaching over to set a hand on your shoulder, her thumb stroking your fabric-covered skin in a way to show comfort. “The former Judge of Owls was his mother and now that she is… gone, your future husband is the new Judge-”

“I am not marrying him.” You snapped back at your former friend and you could see her recoil at your anger. “I am not marrying a psychopathic killer!” “Don’t talk like that… not in front of the others.” There was a sudden look of panic on her face at your words and she glanced around to make sure there was no one or nothing watching the two of you, maybe a camera or microphone in the room but perhaps Gabriel respected you too much to not spy on you in a private space but he would send some sort of assassin after you. “Look I know you are upset but there are other members here who would not take kindly to your words, and they are the type to try to kill you for it. Trust me the only allies you have here are me and our old classmates who have too much respect for you and while the Judg- Gabriel would never hurt you physically personally, I would not test his patience especially now.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I thought you knew, I mean you were the one who warned the Judge about it.” You looked at Clara in confusion and she looked back at you with a similar expression just with a bit of concern. “The Court of Owls has come into conflict with the League of Assassins, as it seems the League has interfered with the purpose of the Court.”

You thought about Talia’s words, her original warning about danger brewing in Gotham, it was about whatever was about to go down between the Court of Owls and the League of Assassins for whatever reasons, the exact reason why was not something you knew yet, keyword yet, you would find out soon enough. Talia wanted you to get out of harm's way either because she cared, which you doubted, or because she knew you would try to interfere with whatever was going to happen. No doubt that Ra’s Al Ghul wanted you out of the way for the same reason so when his daughter failed at getting to go crawling back to your family, he lifted the veil just a little bit so you would get a peak to scare you away, somewhat of a messed up love language.

“I see… I was played.” You sighed, your eyes falling to the floor, the horrifying realization coming upon you. Your best guess was that in Ra’s Al Ghul’s philosophy, if you could call it that, to root out corruption all over the world by destroying things to build them back up, the man was a fanatic, to say the least. Gotham City was about to become ground zero for an all-out war. “God above… how many people are gonna die?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sorry… personal thoughts…” 

“Alright… I do have to ask, how did you come into contact with the League of Assassins?” Clara asked you and you felt yourself stiffen up because there was no good answer to that question. “I understand that you were- are Songbird and all, but you have been doing this sort of thing for only a few years and I didn’t take you for the type to get tangled up in their business.”

“It’s… it’s a really long story.” You did not have time to explain how your half brother, whose conception was a bit startling, was the grandson of the Demon’s Head, and how the said grandfather and his daughter were rather fond of you. “I have had a few fond encounters with members of the League of Assassins, or at least that is how they would portray it.”

“Well you certainly don’t have to worry about that now, you will be safe with us.” You internally rolled your eyes at that comment, you never needed to worry about the Leauge of Assassins, you suppose in the eyes of both the Court of Owls and in the Court of Owls harming you was extremely against the rules unless someone wished for their head to be separated from their body. 

“I would call myself exactly safe when I was kidnapped to get here.” You stood up from the bed, your mind being able to piece things together in your mind. You remember that old rhyme your mother used to tell you when you asked about Gotham since you were born and raised for the first few years of your life outside of Gotham, Singapore is actually where your mother tried to raise you but sadly due to her business affairs she was brought back to Gotham and that was her biggest mistake…

Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time,ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime. 

They watch you at your hearth,they watch you in your bed, speak not a whispered word of them, or they’ll send the Talon for your head.

Was that thing they sent after you called a Talon? It would make sense in the end since how bids like owls strike down and capture their prey is with their clawed talons. You had begun to pace the floor in your thoughts, asking yourself questions in your head like why that thing was so strong. You had fought trained assassins and other sorts of killers before but those things, that Talon’s, strength just made no logical sense if they were just human, but it could not be something like Bane’s venom since Henbane and Nettle had been working on shutting down any trade of the super steroid. It also could not be something like natural super abilities since you know what that sort of thing looks like firsthand.

You were not going to get any answers in here and you did not have a key to the locked door, but there was someone stuck in here with you who did.

“Sorry, my mind just went detective mode, force of habit.” You forced yourself to stop and smile at your former friend, coming to sit down next to her. You leaned over, resting your head on her shoulder as your hand rested on her opposite shoulder. “You know, I guess I was just startled by all this, those years of constant paranoia getting to me, just how the life of a vigilante is.”

“Oh, I figured, you were always so sweet back in school- HEY- mph!?” You did not waste another moment, your hand on her shoulder moving up so you wrapped your arm around her neck, your forearm pressing against her throat, and your other hand coming to cover her mouth out of habit even if the room was soundproofed. You squeezed down her throat, cutting off her flow of oxygen just so she passed out and her body fell limp. 

“Sorry Clara, I do feel bad about this, but something else I picked up as Songbird is to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” You quickly set her down and stood up and searched her body, found the skeleton key you were looking for, and grabbed her mask for safe measure, actually, you changed your mind last minute and set the mask back down, you did not want to even be associated with that cult of an organization. You rolled your eyes and walked towards the door leading out of the bedroom and you reached out with the key to unlock the door and…

Before you could even put the key in the lock you heard the door unlocking on the other side of the said door…

You froze up when you saw the door open to just reveal a masked Gabriel, you could hear him sigh fondly behind the mask and he reached up to remove it and you saw his gentle and smiling face. He glanced back at the bed where an unconscious Clara lay along with her mask, and then he just looked at you, shaking his head with another gentle sigh. “Always the detective and fighter, honestly if I did not love you so much I am sure the rest of Court would have tried to kill you years ago, don’t worry I’ll have someone take care of this disappointment, I was really hoping on of our old school friends would be able to calm you down, but alas it seems not.”

“Gabriel…”

“Hush now my dove, I was hoping to show you a few things.” He took your hand in his left hand and began pulling you down the hallway as his right hand placed the white owl mask back upon his face. “And it seems I should show you a few other more… rather unpleasant things in order to keep you in line.”

______________________

“This is the place she said to go,” Nettle spoke as he hopped off Clove’s bike, he had ridden along with her, his hands holding onto her waist before he got up. He looked around the empty garage, obviously unopened to the public for quite some time. “No one is here though, maybe they are late.”

“Or maybe you all are just blind.” A voice made everyone jump, even Foxflove and Henbane who were stepping out of the car Mr. Austen had made for them. They all turned to see a woman none of them had recognized, or at least never knew her secret identity, of course, they all would recognize Batwoman, or as you knew her, Kate Kane. She was standing by a door that led into an elevator which would normally be hidden by a false concrete slab, she gestured with a nod of her head to follow after her. “C’mon, everyone else is waiting upstairs.”

“Everyone?” Clove questioned, skittering after the red-haired woman into the elevator. Honestly, the comparison between the two women was so vast, Clove was the sweet and short type, her short and curly brown hair along with her round glasses gave her a doll-like appearance appearance, not exactly looking like a hero in the classic sense but she was definitely approachable to children and people who were scared and need a comforting face. Kate on the other hand was tall and muscular, absolutely towering over your small friend, her reputation as being rather stubborn and abrasive personality made her rather intimidating. “You mean like Red Hood, Nightwing, Batman…”

“Yes, I do.”

There were unsure expressions exchanged between your friends and teammates before they all followed suit after Clove and Batwoman. The elevator was the old type with the iron bar-like door that closed when the elevator began going up and everyone stood in an awkward and nervous silence. The doors finally opened after perhaps a minute or two of going up in the elevator did they finally reached their destination, they could see through the iron bars of the door, everyone was gathered there. Some of them they had worked with on occasion but that was only Nettle and Foxglove really who had encountered Red Robin or Orphan during a case and they put their combined forces together. There was a red-haired woman in a wheelchair who you would know as Barbara Gordon, but your team recognized her voice as Oracle, the one who hacked into their comm lines. 

“Good to see you all made it in one piece, it’s nice to actually meet you all in person,” Oracle spoke to your friends, turning her wheelchair around from her desk to face all of them. There was a scoff heard from under the helmet of Red Hood and the red-haired woman glanced up at him with an annoyed expression. “Look I know you don’t want to work with them but they are the only ones who have had constant contact with her for the last four years.”

“Ya, we have lived with her for a while so I would say we know her pretty well, Clove especially,” Henbane spoke up, patting the young woman on the back. “Those two have gone on more missions together than anyone else on our team.”

“Or so I have heard.” Damian, or rather Robin spoke up, recalling your bathtub conversation with him and the mention of the burn scars from your fight with Firefly and Killer Moth along when she threatened to shoot your father when she felt you were threatened. He looked her up and down with a judgemental eye. “You do not look like much.”

“Clove can kick any of our asses in training, the only person who holds a candle to her skill is your sister.” Foxglove praised, patting the younger woman on the head. “But all that aside I am guessing you know why she went missing?”

“Yes, approximately nine hours ago my daughter was kidnapped on top of the Novick Building and I suppose you all know the same given you were found there when Oracle contacted you all, correct?” Your father, or rather Bruce Wayne spoke up, questioning all of your friends and they exchanged glances before Nettle spoke up.

“Well um… yes and no, we got an emergency signal from her around nine hours ago as well but we do not know what happened to her but before that, we did not have any contact with her for about a day, day and a half prior.

“That is because she returned to the manor after being given these photos.” Red Robin leaned over Oracle’s desk setting and slid over a file and zoomed in, a display of the photos of Gabriel you were given by Ra’s Al Ghul. Stunned expressions came across all of your friends’ faces, Nettle and Foxglove even looked horrified and Clove and Henbane looked like they were going to be sick to their stomachs. Then he clicked on something else, pulling up the security camera footage of your kidnapping by the masked assassin. “Her former fiance is a member of the Court of Owls, a group that most Gotham, including us, thought was just an urban legend. So given recent events there is a high probability that she was kidnapped by the Court of Owls and if it was not them then Damian, Robin, thinks there is a low chance it could have been the Leauge of Assassins since they have been active in the city as of late, but again the ladder is unlikely.”

“Alright, fine but if we help you there are a few things that we require,” Foxglove replied, stepping up and breaking their own stunned silence. “First of all if you hack into our systems, we get access to yours.”

“Easy enough.”

“Second, we get our benefactor on board, I am sure you know of Mr. Mark Austen, yes?”

“Our companies have worked together on a project or two, he is an acceptable partner.”

“Thirdly, once we find her, she does not go back to Wayne Manor unless she wants to, if she is injured she can go to a hospital or be brought to Austen Indestries’ medical lab. She can be safe living the life she wants.” There was clear tension in the room at Foxglove’s final requirement and a groan from Red Hood who was the most visibly upset about this, especially with this final requirement. 

“Told you we should not have brought them in on this.”

“Well to be totally honest with you, we don’t want to work with you either,” Foxglove replied, shrugging at your older brother’s irritated comment. “But you don’t have a choice, the difference between us is you all won’t die because you want to see her out of there, but we have nothing to live for besides each other, so we would die to get her out. Your choice, but if you really need out help than you don’t have much of one here.”

[sachirobabe]

Stress fracture | K. Tobio x F!reader

Warnings: Cursing, injuries, timeskip spoilers, arguing, hurt/comfort⚠️

An: repost from my Wattpad

Female reader.

Wc: 1341

"You're so stupid sometimes, Tobio." You sigh as you shut his door for him. He waits for you to round the car and get into the drivers seat before answering.

"Am not." He huffs.

"We're supposed to meet up with your sister and mom, but instead we're on our way to the doctor." You sigh, eyeing him for a second before turning on the car.

"I didn't think I'd get a stress fracture, didn't even know that was a thing." He mutters the last part to himself.

"Your body isn't keeping up with you, obviously you're going to stress your ankle out and injure it." You feel bad for scolding him over injuring himself, but you've warned him for weeks to ease up on the training.

"I should be back in about a week or two right?"

You look at him like he's crazy, "Doesn't it hurt?"

"I mean, yeah, but it's like a minor thing, right?" He continues, not taking his injury too seriously.

You shut your eyes despite driving then quickly open them, "Tobio.. I don't even know what to tell you right now."

"Why's that? I'm being serious." He frowns.

"Yeah, that's the scary part. You'll probably be out for longer than that." You sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to take this too well.

"I can't." He denies.

"Injuries don't work that way." You shrug, "Just focus on getting better, yeah? Plus you've barely been home.. so."

"I spend plenty of time at home." He argues.

"To sleep and eat, but we don't see much of each other." You explain, all of a sudden feeling nervous.

"We've talked about this already." He says, turning his head, finding the window much more interesting.

"And I'm going to say it again, you need to let yourself rest." You're trying your best to not have this conversation blow up.

"Are you sure you're not just saying that so I can be with you longer? I told you how demanding my job is." He crosses his arms.

"Tobio, I'm not trying to argue with you right now." You grip the steering wheel tightly.

"Then what're you trying to do?" He scowls.

"Take care of you. You're injured and I'm concerned at the amount of training you're putting yourself through." You explain

"My training's just fine." He crosses his arms and faces his body towards the window. He's so sassy sometimes.

You decide to leave it at that, the rest of the car ride was silent. The clinic comes into view and you notice your boyfriend shift uncomfortably in the leather seat.

You tried your best to park as close as you can, knowing you'd have to help Tobio get out of the car.

"I can get out myself." He glares and opens the door before you can even turn the car off. You roll your eyes and decide to let him suffer. He begins to walk and immediately scrunches his face in pain.

You walk in front of him and into the clinic, he was being stubborn so you'd let him suffer his own consequences. The lady at the front desk attends you and you're both waiting for your husband.

Tobio is limping as he walks in, pain evident on his face. "Would you like me to get you a wheelchair, sir?" The woman asked.

"I can walk myself." He says to her, she raises an eyebrow and motions for you both to follow her. A small part of him wanted you to help him, but he was never going to ask.

You take it upon yourself to aid him, he grumpily lets you, deep down he's really relieved. His ankle was throbbing. He's finally sitting on the bed in the room, scooting all the way to the back so his injury wasn't just dangling.

His phone is buzzing with texts and calls from his sister and mother, he ignores them and is waiting for you to speak to him. You look the other way, finding the wall entertaining.

He scoffs, what's so appealing about the wall? You don't even react to him. The doctor enters the room and begins to examine his ankle, finally being told he's out for 6 weeks.

The doctor gives you a list of things to help quicken the healing process, you listen intently to what is being said.

"The doctor's more interesting than me, huh?” Tobio says as he's settled in the car.

"Don't Tobio." You warn.

"Now you wanna talk to me? I bet you're happy I'm gonna be home for so long." He says.

"What's gotten into you? All you do is spend your time playing volleyball, I understand that's your job, but when's the last time we had a date night?" You question, beginning to drive.

He ignores your question, "That's quite literally my job."

"I know it's your job, but you're overdoing it. We don't eat dinner together anymore, we don't go out on dates, I go to bed alone and wake up with you already gone." You say frustrated.

"I warned you about this when we first got together, you can't expect me home all the time." He faces you.

"I'm not saying that, Tobio, you're not even listening. You're upset because you have a stress fracture and you're out for 6 weeks. You don't need to be taking that frustration out on me. I just miss spending time together, that's all." You finish your little rant and he stays silent.

Tobio gets out of the car by himself and is waiting by the door for you to open. He limps to the couch in the living room and pulls out his phone. He begins to realize you're right, he's been staying after a lot more and leaving much earlier for practice.

An important match was coming up and he just wanted to be the best he could, unknowingly he was pushing you off to the side. Now he feels like he's an asshole—no, he knows he's being an asshole.

You went up to your shared bedroom and haven't come out since. You've taken some time to cool off and answered some messages, mostly informing his mother and sister about what happened.

Tobio struggles to go up the stairs, at the top he's breathing heavily and sweating. Your head turns towards the door hearing it open.

He limps onto the bed and scoots so his back is resting on the headboard. He didn't even realize as he was getting situated and being careful to not injure himself more, that you'd left the room. "Fuck." He groans.

You now sat on the couch, focused on your phone. Your husband didn't struggle as much as when he was going up the stairs, he made sure to be quiet so you wouldn't move.

He sits next to you and you begin to stand up, "I won't be able to follow you if you go back upstairs." He says out of breath. "Please just stay." His hand reaches for yours, his eyes looking at you apologetically.

You glare at him and sit back down. "What do you want."

He sighs, "I'm sorry for earlier. You're right, I was upset because I'd be out of volleyball. I didn't mean to make you feel like I don't want to spend time with you."

"I know, it just hurt how you kept getting defensive about it. I'm aware of your job being demanding, but we'd still be able to do things and relax." You explain and he listens wholeheartedly.

"I know, babe, I'm really sorry. We have an important match coming up and I went a little crazy." He agreed. "I'll do a better job, I promise."

You smile, "I'm sorry for not helping you get out of the car."

"I deserved it." He laughed, "I know you'll take good care of me, no more running off, I can't keep up." You both laugh.

"Come here." You say and press your soft lips to his. "I'll take great care of you."

[wormoftoji]

I don’t have an excuse for this, I just want Toji so badly, I need him and his wife to double team me teehee. And I know my Toji is pretty different from most people but idk, I just think he’s like that.

Just thinking about Toji who’s reluctantly working with you on a mercenary job you’ve both take on, he’s tolerating you at best. He hardly takes you seriously, I mean, there’s a reason he’s so sought after in black market jobs. But then he sees you in action and damn, if that doesn’t get him going.

He wants to fight you and fuck you at the same time. Wants to wrap his arm around your throat, holding your head back and forcing you to arch your back while he pummels your pussy from behind. He wants to breed you while you whine and claw at him, bruising him, making him bleed, maybe even breaking something.

Honestly, rough sex isn’t usually his thing. Neither is sex though, he hasn’t really looked at a woman since his wife died. But you’re strong, it drives him crazy. Plus, he thinks his wife would have liked you anyway, given that you’re just like him.

[strangegutz]

Man wtf are people on about, first of all that song is super catchy thank you for introducing me to it, secondly my god how little tact to people have to go one someones art post and leave rude comments about their taste in music? Like they do understand you aren’t their friend right? Saying they hate it (lighthearted) doesnt come across the way they think it does to a complete stranger. Im an artist and ive had people leave what are clearly supposed to be cutesy snarky comments on my post (including i think even the lighthearted or genuine tone tags) and like my god it just killed my motivation. Like there is a real person behind the screen seeing that comment, someone who isnt your friend. Would you just go up to someone minding their business and go hey i think your outfit is weird as fuck haha but in a lighthearted way! Jesus i swear no one has any manners anymore

EVERYONE LISTEN TO THE LISA OST NOW!!

you're so right for this, theres a Playful Rudeness epidemic and it pisses me off so bad. Especially when you match the energy back and they hit you with the "um well I was kidding :/" like oh, we're not playing anymore? Is it real now that I've replied to you? lol. I've gotten so much worse than this in terms of Playful Rudeness and man, I'd prefer if people would just be a full on asshole to me

Alright, like, people saying they're scared of my choice of the Lisa grunting track (Work Harder) is whatever. but goddamn, I'm not used to the whole "all attention is good attention" thing and having a hundred tags being like "why the fuck did you pick this music" is driving me crazy, especially when like. It's a silly track. I know it's a silly track. Do you seriously not see that the sample used is purposely goofy. The sample itself was an inside joke with the Lisa dev IIRC. Though, I've seen people on this website have the same reaction to the track 666 Kill Chop Deluxe which is an even more insane track to be "scared" of IMO, so I guess i was asking for this to happen eventually, lol

Not to get on my Artist High Horse here, but the most irritating is people saying something like "cool doll but what the fuck is the music i hate the music unmute at your own risk" like man, alright, look, I made a video of myself making a demon woman doll with a fetish hood and a cigarette, and I chose Work Harder as my backing track. I made an intentional choice as an artist, and if you can't meet me in the middle for this less-than-2-minute video, then perhaps my work isnt for you? Idk, mute it and play Taylor Swift over it if you want. Or maybe this, if it's less scary. But now my art has a completely different vibe than I intended. it feels so dumb to say this about Work Harder but i guess if you gotta shave off the edges to swallow my work, do it, and thanks for the reblogs!

All of my friends encourage me to start cracking down on rude (or just annoying) commenters, it's hard but ooohhhh i'm certainly creeping closer

tldr:

[37sommz]

000.⠀⠀NOW PLAYING: long live [1.5k, angst]. ✼. view: masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request. ✼. synopsis: michaela says goodbye. ✼. notes: totally heartbroken for daniel. for all he's done for this sport, he truly deserved so much more than what he got. enchanté, daniel. ✼. warnings: daniel's last race, crying. not proofread, but when do i ever?

✼.⠀SEPTEMBER 22, 2024 — marina bay, singapore

Michaela gripped the steering wheel of her Aston Martin as she rounded the streets of Marina Bay. The roar of the engine filled her ears as she sped through the tight turns of the track, the city lights of Singapore blurring into a dizzying spray of color beyond the tire barriers. The air held anticipation and the smell of an uneasy question. She had heard the whispers all weekend, the murmurs that danced just out of earshot. Daniel Ricciardo, the man who had practically become part of her family, might not be in the paddock much longer. Her heart raced, not just from the exhilaration of the race, but from the thought of losing a piece of her world.

The checkered flag dropped, and she pulled into the pit lane. The chaos of the grandstands and the flashing lights of cameras were a harsh, ironic contrast to the turmoil storming within her. She stepped out of the car, forcing a smile for the cameras as she went through the motions of the post-race interviews. She had done well, finishing 5th to Fernando's 4th, but the success felt hollow. Her thoughts remained with Daniel, who had just completed his final lap for the Bulls. She had avoided him all weekend, the weight of his potential departure too much to bear. But now, as the race concluded and the tension began to ease, she knew she had to see him.

Michaela walked to Daniel's side of the RB garage, her heart thumping like the British engine she had just left behind in her own garage. She pushed open the door and found him surrounded by his team, sharing a bittersweet moment. His eyes met hers and she saw the unshed tears glittering underneath the fluorescent lights. He tried to flash his signature grin, but it faltered, and she knew the truth had sunk in for both of them. The laughter lines around his eyes didn't hide the pain. He was saying his goodbyes, and she had missed most of it.

As the last of the well-wishers left, Daniel turned to his car, running a hand over its gleaming carbon fiber bodywork. She approached him tentatively, her eyes brimming with tears she hadn't realized she'd been holding back. He looked at her, his own eyes red and glassy.

"Hey, kid," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

She took a step closer, feeling the warmth of the engine's last breath radiating off the car.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" He tried to laugh, but it came out as a choked sob.

Michaela's own tears spilled over, tracing paths down her cheeks. "Daniel, I'm so sorry," she whispered, reaching out to lay a hand on his shoulder.

He leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving the car that had been his life for so many seasons. "It's alright, Mick. It's just racing, right?" Even in his most vulnerable moment, Daniel couldn't fight the instinct to comfort the girl he had watched grow into a woman.

Michaela felt the warmth of his voice wrap around her like a familiar blanket, but the words didn't bring the relief she sought.

 "No, it's not just racing," she said, her voice trembling. "You've been there for me, through all the tough times, the crashes, the doubt, the fights to be taken seriously in this sport." She swallowed hard, her eyes searching his for understanding. "You've been my rock, my inspiration. You can't just leave. Not like this."

Daniel turned to face her, his smile sad but earnest. "Mick, you know this isn't the end. I'll still be around, driving Courie crazy.” 

The reference to Michaela’s sister, Daniel’s girlfriend—his Courie—stuck watching the race from her lab in Sydney only brought a knot to Michaela’s stomach. Michaela had spoken briefly to her sister before the race, Courtney had been inconsolable over the phone, pushed beyond guilt that she couldn’t be by her boyfriend’s side to help shoulder the emotions during the last race of his Formula 1 career.

“And you," he continued, pointing at her, "You're gonna kill it out there without me."

Michaela couldn't hold back anymore. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace, feeling the coarse fabric of his fireproofs and the solidity of his frame. He hugged her back, his own arms enveloping her in a comforting warmth she hadn't realized she needed. They stood there for a moment, two friends sharing the weight of a career's crossroads, their hearts beating in sync with the rhythm of the cooling engines around them.

"Thank you," she murmured into his shoulder. "For everything."

"You can thank me when you win a championship," Daniel said, his voice breaking despite himself.

Michaela pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "It should've been you first," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You should've been a champion." Her tears continue to fall, her cheeks stained by the path they leave on her skin.

"Maybe, but don't worry about me," Daniel said, his eyes glistening. "You still have your whole career ahead of you."

Michaela nodded, her vision blurred by the tears. "I know, but it won't be the same without you."

The silence grew heavy in the garage, punctuated only by the occasional clang of tools being packed away. The reality of Daniel's departure was setting in, a stark reminder of the fleeting nature of their sport.

"You know, I never thought I'd be leaving like this," Daniel said, his gaze still on the car. "But I guess that's how it goes when you get too attached to the ride."

Michaela nodded, her throat tight. "It's not fair," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You're one of the best out there."

"Life's not about fair," Daniel replied, his hand coming up to ruffle her hair, a gesture that brought a ghost of a smile to her face. "But it's about making the most of what you've got. And I guess I've gotta get a new thing now."

Michaela stepped back, taking in the sight of her friend, his shoulders slumped and his usual vibrant spirit dulled by the shadow of his uncertain farewell. She felt a pang of anger at the unfairness of it all. Daniel had given so much to Formula 1, and yet, it seemed to be discarding him as if a worn-out tire. But she knew better than to let her the weight of her emotions sweep her up, not here, not now. She took a deep breath, straightening her spine.

"You're right," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her chest. "We've got to make the most of it. And you," she poked his arm gently, "Have got more to give, more to show the world. Whatever's next, you'll shine just like you always do."

Daniel offered a weak smile, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thanks, Mick." He paused, taking in the sight of the emptying garage, his team packing up the last of his gear.

"I just thought I'd be here for a little longer, you know? When I left Red Bull for Renault I thought that my time was next, that I was gonna be the one on the top step for once. Then McLaren called and I fuckin'—" He choked back further tears. "I felt like that was it. But when it never came I just..."

He trailed off, the heartbroken look in his eyes drawing Michaela deeper into her melancholy. Michaela nodded solemnly, understanding the ache in his words. "You're so much more than that, Daniel. You brought your joy to so many people. I know for sure that you've got so much left to give. And you will, in whatever you do next." She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself.

"You've taught me so much," she continued, her voice cracking. "How to keep pushing when everything is useless and I feel like giving up. How to laugh when the world is against your joy. How to be a better driver to my team and a better person to the people I love. I wouldn't still be here if it weren't for you. So, thank you Daniel. So, so much."

"You're going to be okay, you hear me?" He said, his voice gruff with emotion. "You're going to be more than okay."

Michaela nodded, trying to hold onto his words like a lifeline in the storm of her feelings. Daniel took a step back and wiped his own eyes with the back of his hand. "But for now," he said, his voice firming up, "Let's go grab a drink. You know, to celebrate the end of an era and all that fuzzy shit."

They laughed through their tears, a bit of the old familiar banter slipping back in. They walked out of the garage together, leaving the echoes of their past successes and heartaches behind. The paddock was alive with the sounds of teams breaking down and preparing for the next race. 

Yet, for them, the world had slowed down to an unwilling crawl.

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