#so maybe it would be best to just leave it

[strwbrychffoncke]

"ah, ah, you're obsessed.. ah, ah, you're obsessed!,, 1.8k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: sometimes caleb just wishes to devour you whole contains: nsfw! lnds caleb x afab!reader ,obsessed!caleb but whats new ,soft?dom caleb ,pipsqueak/baby/princess used as petnames ,kissing ,praise ,slight body worship ,teasing ,facesitting ,cunnilingus ,caleb eats u out through ur panties (later they come off) ,edging ,orgasm ,overstim but barely ,implied u keep going ,i think thats it note: (edited!) releasing this late just for it to be a new concept to play with :p editing this was so hard for no reason sigh

-

if someone asked him, caleb would say, in a roundabout way, that he was utterly obsessed with you.

though honestly, it wasn't hard for anyone to decipher that on their own given the way he takes any opportunity to mention you, much less if anyone were to catch sight of him with you— the little lovesick eyes he'd be staring at you with resembled a puppy, trailing after and following your every whim (not without some of his own teasing). furthermore, the shift in his eyes that he'd give to anyone that recognized you was usually enough to demand them not to interrupt your time together.

if you were to ask him, he might even confess that you were the very air that he breathed.

maybe thats why he's kissing you with so much fervor now, stealing your breath from your lungs to fuel and burn into his, but even then its not enough, not really.

he has you caged against his bedroom door— he didn't let a second pass after it clicked closed when he tugged your arm lightly to pull you against it, back hitting the wood with a light thud— arms coming up on either side of your head to trap you against him as he devours your lips.

your hands are clutching at the front of his shirt, left with no space to fight back as caleb's kisses grow almost desperate, borderline trying to consume you. after several minutes of this, you start tugging at his thin shirt, trying your best to push him back just enough to fill your lungs with oxygen.

"cale— mmph— caleb!"

he gets the message, breaking the kiss and watching as your eyes flutter open, one of your arms coming up, back of your hand hovering over your mouth almost acting as a barrier against any more subsequent kiss attacks as you gasp for much needed air.

you're looking up at him through your lashes, eyes wide and holding a mix of shock and... shyness?

caleb thinks the flustered look is the cutest on you.

his hands come let go of the wall in favor of holding your face in his hands, thumbs caressing your cheeks for a moment before his touch goes lower, hands sliding down your neck and down your shoulders and further, rubbing up and down your sides before settling on your waist.

he feels the way you shiver at his touch, and he can't help the satisfied and pleased curl of his lips.

he leans in close, lips hovering right above your ear.

"i think i could just eat you up, pipsqueak."

expecting to fluster you further, his eyes widen in slight shock when he feels you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to plant a soft kiss against his jawline.

"then do it."

your whisper of encouragement is all that he needs.

-

he takes his time feeling your skin under his fingers, unintentionally teasing you, not realizing until you whine and tell him to hurry up, already! coaxing a fond chuckle from his lips before he's on his knees before you, his fingers ghosting over your shorts, tugging them down your legs and helping you step out of them, tossing them to the side.

he rubs his hands over your thighs back and forth, looking up at you with a fond look in his eyes.

he begins to nip at the fat, unable to suppress the need to squeeze at the plush flesh as he leaves loving marks (ones that you'll look back at and probably reprimand him for later).

but he couldn't help it. he wanted, needed to plant his lips on you, on anywhere he was able to reach.

"take them off already!"

when you squirm under his touches, body slumping against the door and head thrown back in frustration, whining again at the feel of his mouth so close yet so far to where you need him the most, he suddenly pulls back, patting your thighs as he moves to stand up.

"get up, baby," he mutters, reaching for the bottom of his shirt and slipping it over his head, tossing it to a corner of the room. you watch as he then makes his way towards his bed, laying on his back before beckoning you over.

"come and sit on my face."

your eyes widen in shock at the demand while a lazy grin is spread on his face.

"b-but, caleb—"

"c'mere already," his voice is soft but the demand within it is firm.

you take a deep breath, taking slow steps towards the bed. caleb's eyes are on you the entire way, feeling how the mattress dips under your weight and watching you crawl to sit over his lap.

his hands reach out for you, grabbing hold of your hips and pulling you towards him, dragging you up over his abs and onto his chest.

"caleb, wait—"

your hands shoot out to grab onto him but he ignores your protest, lifting you up with ease right over his mouth.

"been waitin' all day to do this, baby," he breathes, hastily lowering your core closer and closer to his awaiting mouth.

"but caleb, i still have my—"

"keep them on, ill eat you out through them," he murmurs against the thin barrier, sticking his tongue out to lap at the spot of arousal as he sits you completely on him, licking and sucking at your heat through your panties.

you moan at the sensation of his tongue through the thin barrier, pleasure teetering between being not enough and a little too much as he licks and sucks at you as if he were starved.

it seems these panties in particular are doing something to him. you feel the way he's groaning against your core as his movements grow faster, tongue curling around where your entrance would be, ears red from the sounds and small begs you breathe out into the cool room.

when you notice his face going a little red, you lift yourself off of him just slightly, looking down at him concerned.

"caleb! are you okay?"

a displeased growl escapes his throat, his eyes stern as they meet yours, hands gripping your hips just a little bit harsher— you wince under the increased pressure.

"'m just fine, pipsqueak, but i can't promise you'll be if you get up again."

"but i—"

"i don't care if it looks like suffocating," he tugs at your hips, sly smirk curling up his lips.

"you know how much i hate when my mealtime gets interrupted."

with that, you're planted firmly back over his mouth, a moan ripped from your throat as he immediately gets back to work. you can't help the involuntary jerk of your hips against his mouth, seeking further friction in the pleasure with the barrier in place.

you're not sure how long has passed but you feel your core begin to tighten, your release steadily approaching.

"caleb, close," you pant, fingers tugging at his hair, practically riding his face at this point to increase the pressure enough to cum.

"yeah? gonna cum, baby?"

the thin fabric of your panties is practically soaked at this point, and caleb seems to be going a little crazier at the feel while at the same time, desperate to be tasting you properly.

with a single finger he moves the fabric to the side, slipping two long fingers into your leaking entrance as he laps at your folds. you throw your head back at the full sensation— no longer deterred from the barrier— moans increasing in volume as you continue riding his face.

his mouth is desperate as he slips his tongue in and out of you, curling his fingers just right and when he uses a thumb to play with your clit at the same time, it all feels like too much, and you tell him so, lifting your hips ever so slightly—

but caleb notices, and he's not happy.

his eyes rake up to your almost-gone expression, wondering if you've even realized what you did.

without saying anything, you feel yourself sit completely and firmly against caleb once again. when he begins the onslaught of pleasure once more, your body shaking from the sensations, you feel yourself being held down.

your eyes shoot to his narrowed ones, looking right back at you.

he's using his evol so you can't get away again.

you cry out, overwhelmed with pleasure and with a few more thrusts from his tongue and presses against your clit, you're coming all over his tongue and fingers, hips bucking against his face and satisfied hums and moans escaping your lips.

this is how it should be.

caleb keeps working his fingers inside of you, groaning and chest rumbling in satisfaction at the way your release spills into his mouth and down the bottom half of his face, welcoming the way your thighs squeeze around his head, letting you ride out your high against him.

he feels the way your body trembles above him, weak hands tugging at his short hair as he continue lapping at you, fingers still alternating their curling motions within you, albeit slower.

"too... m-much, too much caleb—"

he decides to be nice.

he slowly pulls his fingers from you, grabbing your hips steady and setting you down on his chest.

you watch each other catch your breaths, and take a look at the state the other is in.

caleb loves the dazed expression you're sporting, panting out into the air, looking absolutely spent already.

meanwhile, in the midst of your hazy high you're slowly coming down from, embarrassment begins to crawl up your system at the sight of caleb's messy hair and drenched face, no thanks to you.

you scoot back further, sitting on his abs as your hands lay flat against his pecks.

"sorry about—"

"nuh-uh, this is exactly what i wanted," he interrupts you, grinning in satisfaction.

"though..."

his voice trails off as his eyes drift down to your soaked panties.

"these," he hooks a finger through the twisted portion of it, "might be ruined."

you only laugh, sitting up on your knees. he watches you make quick work of taking them off before planting yourself back down on top of him. you lean forward, a little daringly, sly smile making its way onto your face as you rub your hands over his chest.

"those were new," you feign a pout, one hand curling into itself, index finger pointed out to drag your touch over his heart.

"you'll have to make it up to me," you lean back slightly, hands withdrawing to trail over the hem of your top.

caleb's eyes are glued to you.

"oh, do i, now?"

"yeah," you meet his teasing yet curious gaze, lifting your shirt over your head and tossing it carelessly on the floor, leaning forward again, hands flat on the pilot's chest.

you tilt your head innocently.

"how will you do it?"

in a swift motion, he grips your hips again, lifting you back up , holding you just before his lips.

"sit back down and you'll find out, princess."

-

a/n: would he be in to this? i cant tell ,but i can see it

-

[fortunapre]

𝐖𝐡at Happens 𝐢𝐧 𝐓𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐬… | 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

SUMMARY★ the internet gets suspicious after Oscar Piastri’s childhood best friend shows up to the USA GP after swearing off races a year ago…

(multiple face claims)

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y/nusername home sweet home *read in southern mama accent*

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oscarpiastri: hey! no way i’m going to be there too what a coincidence!

➜ y/nusername: its not a coincidence im stalking you

➜ oscarpiastri: 😀 what.

y/nbff: tell me you’re joking

➜ y/nusername: lemme tell you something... LEMME TELL YOU SUMTHING!

user1234: why does @y/nbff sound mad? Did she not tell her bsf or something?

➜ user999: don’t quote me on this but i’m pretty sure it has to do with the drama about y/n and her ex.

➜ user 1234: wait what?!? Im new what is that???

➜ f1updatesfans: well like i think 2 years ago y/n was seen around with this guy while she was in Austin (her home town) for the USA race.

➜ f1updatesfans: Then suddenly he like disappeared and y/n didn’t go to another race since. but now apparently she’s going to this one??? it’s all very speculative but yeah.

➜ user1234: ok but what does y/n have to do with formula one? Wait was she dating a driver?

➜ f1updatesfans: No! I dont think so... And shes Oscar’s friend I think. Best friend.

imessages- y/n's POV

Once y/n got off of the plane and through the gate, she stood waiting for Oscar. Considering he was already in town for the race, he had no problem coming to get her. They were best friends after all.

y/n had a hand on her suitcase and leaned against a pillar. She looked worn out and utterly tired. Her eye bags could practically be called carry-on luggage. She rested her head on the wall and scrolled through her contacts before choosing Oscar's name.

Her phone only rang once before Oscar's voice answered from the other side.

"Hey, y/n." He said in his signature sweet tone that always made y/n smile. The corner of her mouth lifted at his voice while she closed her eyes. Maybe tired was an understatement.

She was exhausted. Usually she just sleeps on planes, but for the whole 6-hour trip she never dozed off. The closest she got was simply closing her eyes.

She couldn't sleep. Not when she was so worried about what would happen once she landed.

"Yeah, hey Oscar." she murmured, and let out a long yawn. "My gate is A6." She held her phone between her shoulder and cheek while she tried to fish out her wallet from her purse.

"You good? You sound tired. Or sad. I can't really tell over the phone." Oscar spoke through the speaker pressed up against her ear.

"Yes, I'm fine..." Once she found her wallet, she pulled out cash to buy something to drink at the mini market across from her gate.

"Oh, I see you! Stop walking I'm coming to your right now." Oscar said quickly. Y/n looked around her, trying to find him. Eventually, she spotted his familiar smile.

They both hung up the phone as Oscar got closer. He was smiling at her, almost smirking really. When he stood next to her, he took a moment to look at her state, no doubt remembering it to make fun of later.

Y/n smiled back and then continued walking to the minimarket, with Oscar alongside her.

Once she got her water, they both started walking towards the exit.

"Here, I can take this." Oscar stopped y/n and put his hand on top of her hand which was holding her suitcase. His touch felt familiar and warm. His hands always felt rougher than they looked, but y/n felt comfort in knowing it was Oscar. At first, she didn't speak.

She was too busy staring at their hands because something different was happening.

She felt different. Suddenly, she wanted his hand to never leave. She wanted his hand to grab hers and lace their fingers. She wanted his hand to touch her more.

She shook her head and looked away from their hands. She must be really tired, and sleep deprived.

Instead of agreeing verbally, y/n just let go, suddenly conscious of Oscar's burning touch, and nodded, letting him take her suitcase.

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ynusername airport fit check

photo credits: lando norris’s teammate, i think?

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oscarpiastri shut up

landonorris *my future boyfriend

➜ ynusername LANDO WHAT! is this a hard launch for you two???? wdym your bf

➜ landonorris WAIT HAHA NO I MEANT MY AS IT YOURS

➜ landonorris I WAS CORRECTING YOU AS YOU

➜ landonorris WAIT DONT

➜ landonorris i’m deleting this.

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comments on this post are limited

imessages- oscar's POV

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imessage- oscar's POV

"Who are you texting?" Y/n asked casually, wanting to start conversation. She sat comfortable in a sofa across from him. Originally, they were both laying down on the sofa's facing each other, a table in the middle.

But once Oscar got the first message, he sat up quickly.

At one point y/n caught him looking at her, with the most confused face she's seen on him, but he just went back to typing.

"What?" His head shot up from his phone, and his eyes got wide.

"I asked who you were texting." She replied. Y/n sat up slowly, matching him and then leaned in, with her elbows on her knees, hands clasped together.

"Oh. um. no one. Just Lando"

"Oh ok." This conversation was just making her more bored, and she wanted to talk to Oscar. There was a beat of silence before she spoke again. "What about?"

"Hmm?" Oscar seemed extremely distracted.

"What about?"

Instead of answering, he ran a hand through his hair and looked down. Y/n was going to ask what was wrong but he suddenly stood up and walked around the sofa.

He was still silent, and he changed positions to now stand behind the sofa and leaned on back, arm folded, facing away from her.

"Osc-" Y/n was going to ask why he was so distracted, but he cut her off.

He turned around, now looking her in the eye. "y/n can I ask you something?"

Now y/n was worried, because what could be on his mind that he needed to ask her about.

"Of course, Osc"

Oscar looked at her as she waited for his question. Like really looked at her. She was wearing Mclaren merch with his number on the back of course. She looked gorgeous. The realization made Oscar run a hand through his hair again, no doubt messing it up this time.

"It's kind of personal, y/n. I understand why you haven't said anything about it before. It's your personal life and I want you to know that i understand."

"Oscar what-"

"Is your ex in Austin?"

Y/n was surprised to say the least. She knew that questions about her past relationship would come up, but Oscar asking was surprising. She told him last year about how her ex broke up with her.

She was devastated. He had broken up with her over the phone, on the way back from last year's Austin Grand Prix. His reasons were stupid, and his apologies sounded incredibly forced.

She immediately called Oscar and told him everything. Well, everything except from his name. Oscar can be protective when it comes to y/n, so she kept her ex's name secret. It sounds stupid now that she thinks about it because even if Oscar did get mad, he would never do anything Y/n didn't like.

"Yeah. He's here, in Austin, but I haven't talked to him at all. You know what he did, and I want nothing to do with him." Y/n didn't know why she was trying to explain herself so much. She felt like she needed to make it known that there was nothing between her and her ex anymore. What this had to do with Oscar? she didn't know.

He nodded and walked towards her. They both sat next to each other on the small sofa while Oscar overthought everything.

"You want nothing to do with him? like at all? because Lando was making me think that you were possibly here to get back together with him..." He needed to know for sure.

"What? Oscar not of course. Why would Lando think that?"

"I don't know." he was going to run a hand through his hair for the third time, but y/n grabbed his wrist instead. She held his hand softly and intertwined their fingers.

Oscar felt relieved. Y/n was probably wondering why Oscar had so many sudden questions about her love life, but neither of them brought up the suddenness of the conversation. They instead sat close together; hands intertwined, hoping that the other couldn't tell how fast their heart is beating at the they're simple touch.

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oscarpiastri new merch that even I'd wear (it's a white shirt, get it?)

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ynusername cool now I have another shirt i can steal

➜ oscarpiastri get your own! https://mclaren.com

➜ oscarpiastri hope this helps!

➜ ynusername you're going to give it to me anyways I know it

➜ oscarpiastri probably...

landonorris @.ynusername where have you beeeeeen I haven't seen you all weekend

➜ ynusername clearing my calendar for you right now!

➜ landonorris tell oscar to stop keeping you to himself!!!

➜ oscarpiastri no go away

➜ landonorris *cough* jealous *cough*

➜ oscarpiastri 😐 that’s enough

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2 days later, and neither Y/n nor Oscar had made any progress on acknowledging their feelings. Even the internet and gossip columns knew more about it then each other.

a/n:

just a small smau i wanted to try. i’ve never done one of these types of stories, so sorry if its bad or confusing!

not sure if i’ll do a part 2…do we like?

[yay855]

There's also another hypothesis I have, which is the "why bother" hypothesis. Essentially, most aliens wouldn't really care about interfering with Earth, since we have nothing they want that they can't get far more easily elsewhere, and we can't interfere with them because we don't have FTL travel. So they just leave us alone if they even know we exist, because there's no point in contacting a primitive civilization. They might set up a probe or two to keep track of us, maybe grab a few organic materials they can't get anywhere else, but otherwise- why would they bother?

It's the same as uncontacted tribes on earth. They have nothing the rest of us need or want, the only people who try to bother them are religious nuts who think that they have a snowball's chance in hell of converting people to their religion, and those people are generally stopped before they can get close enough, sometimes by cops, sometimes by spears and arrows.

Except the main difference is that some corporations could easily want that land to expand their logging or mining operations, something that aliens would never need to do, since again, it's way, way easier to mine asteroids and comets for resources than to fuck with someone else's stuff.

They wouldn't even want our entertainment! Every single human-created piece of art, whether visual, audio, or whatever, is based on a context that aliens won't have without living alongside humans. Their cultures and societies will look radically different from ours, at best they'd want to study us through the lens of our art- and they can literally just grab it from satellite data feeds, no trading or bargaining necessary.

I low-key love the fact that sci-fi has so conditioned us to expect to be hanging out with a bunch of cool space aliens, that legitimate, actual scientists keep proposing the most bizarre, three-blunts-into-the-rotation "theories" to explain the fact we're not.

Some of my favourites include:

Zoo Theory: What if there are loads of aliens out there, but they're not talking to us because of the Prime Directive from Star Trek? (Or because they're doing experiments on us???)

Dark Forest Theory: What if there are loads of aliens out there, but they all hate us and each other so they're all just waiting with a shotgun pointed at the door, ready to open fire on anything that moves?

Planetarium Theory: What if there's at least one alien with mastery over light and matter that's just making it seem to us that the universe is empty to us as, like, a joke?

Berserker Theory: What if there were loads of aliens, but one of them made infinite killer robots that murdered everyone and are coming for us next?!!

Like, the universe is at least 13,700,000,000 years old and 46,000,000,000 light years big. We have had the ability to transmit and receive signals for, what, 100 years, and our signals have so far travelled 200 light years?

The fact is biological life almost certainly has, does, or will develop elsewhere in the universe, and it's not impossible that a tiny amount of it has, does, or will develop in a way that we would understand as "intelligent". But, like, we're realistically never going to know because of the scale of the things involved.

So I'm proposing my own hypothesis. I call it the "Fool in a Field" hypothesis. It goes like this:

Humanity is a guy standing in the middle of a field at midnight. It's pitch black, he can't move, and he's been standing there for ages. He's just had the thought to swing his arms. He swings one of his arms, once, and does not hit another person. "Oh no!" He says. "Robots have killed them all!"

[one-green-frog]

Family Knows Best

Platonic Yandere Batfam x male reader

(I couldnt really find a good gif)

The signs had been obvious. Almost too obvious. But here you were, trapped within the walls of Wayne Manor, surrounded by a family whose love for you was more intense, more consuming, than anything you had ever known. The strangest part? You didn’t mind.

Maybe you should be scared. Maybe you should be fighting to leave. But, really, wasn’t this what you had always wanted? A place where people actually cared about you? Where they loved you unconditional?

It all started with a simple visit.

Damian Wayne had walked into your small pet clinic one late afternoon, accompanied by a boy his age. In his hands, Damian held a tiny duckling, its fluffy yellow body trembling against his hands.

"It was alone," he had said, his voice sharp but carefully controlled. "I suspect its mother is dead. What are the chances of its survival?"

The look in his eyes told you just how deeply he cared and how scared he was for it's survival. He was young, but his concern for the creature in his hands was genuine. You reassured him that with the right care, the duckling would grow strong. You even offered him advice on raising it, though, deep down, you had wanted to keep it for yourself. Unfortunately, due to the lack of space you opted for another option. This boy, Damian Wayne, had probably enough space for the duckling, not to mention the resources he had and most importantly, the heart to care for something so small.

What you didn’t realize then was that your kindness had sealed your fate.

In the weeks that followed, the Waynes began appearing in your life in a frequency that couldn't be coincidence. First, it was Jason Todd, walking into your clinic to ask for advice for a "stray" cat he "found", you later realized that the cat was already part of the family for years. Then Dick Grayson, whose excuses were flimsier—he had seen a stray dog outside and thought he should check if you had seen it, then he lingered in your waiting room, babbling on and on about the most random things. Tim Drake came next, standing awkwardly in your doorway as he asked for information on exotic pets, his eyes scanning every inch of your tiny clinic as though analyzing everything about you.

It felt... odd. Wayne money didn’t typically find its way into the rougher parts of Gotham, yet here they were, weaving themselves into your routine, your space, your life.

Then the flowers started arriving.

Every morning, a fresh bouquet sat at your doorstep—rare, expensive arrangements that made it clear this wasn’t some random act of kindness. No name. No note. Just a silent reminder that someone was watching. At first you thought it was an accident, but the bouquets continued to show up, it made it obvious they were meant for you.

You told yourself you should be creeped out. But no one had ever sent you flowers before. No one had ever gone out of their way to make you feel special. No one would be bothered if you took them into your flimsy apartment. No one would complain and the flowers made your apartment kinder, nicer and just lovelier to wake up to

Then, one evening, Bruce Wayne walked into your clinic.

It was different from the others. The moment he stepped inside, the air in the room shifted. He didn’t rush, didn’t hesitate. He moved with an easy confidence, his deep blue eyes fixed solely on you. His usual playboy smile on his lips that could melt anyone, and yet here he was, looking at you as if you were royalty.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said, his voice smooth, warm.

You were frozen in place. The billionaire, the man Gotham worshipped, was standing in your dingy little clinic, smiling at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

That was the beginning of the end.

He returned often. Sometimes he brought gifts, small, thoughtful things that showed he had been paying attention. A book you mentioned wanting to read. A coat after he “noticed” the thin fabric of your usual one. Every gesture was perfectly calculated, yet felt so natural, so effortless, that you found yourself leaning into his presence without a second thought. He came by at the same time everyday and you found yourself watching the clock closely, heart speeding up whenever it was almost time for his visit.

When he invited you to dinner at Wayne Manor, it felt inevitable.

And when he suggested you stay the night after a few glasses of wine? That, too, felt natural. It was late, Gotham is dangerous, not to mention that you didn't want to bother the nice butler.

When you woke the next morning, disoriented but warm beneath the heavy silk sheets, Bruce was already there, waiting with a tray of breakfast. His smile was soft but filled with something deeper, something darker.

“I’m so glad you’re here", he said with the same sweet voice.

Something was wrong. You knew something was wrong. The prince of Gotham not only invited you to dinner, let you stay the night and now he is in the room with a tray of breakfast? It was simply to weird to be true. But he was looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and for the first time in your life, you felt seen. You felt like you belonged on this place

So you stayed.

And stayed.

Days bled into weeks. You told yourself you could leave if you wanted to. That nothing was keeping you here. No one really forced you to stay. And yet... you couldn’t leave, it was like i higher force told you that you were right where you belonged, where you were cared for and loved. And then there was the family, so warm, so eager to keep you close. You weren’t a prisoner. Not really.

You were theirs.

Dick was the easiest to get attached to. He was light, warmth, and safety all wrapped into one human.Movie nights with him turned into deep conversations about life, love, and loss, his struggles with relationships, especially with his family since he works outside of Gotham. He would confide in you, let himself cry against your shoulder, and then whisper how much he needed you to stay, how no one had ever made him feel this way before. “You’re the only normal one here,” he would say, his fingers tight around your wrist. “You make everything feel right.”

Jason was different—quiet, intense, always hovering near but never too close. He would accompany you on walks through the gardens, listening more than speaking. When you talked about books, about the things that made you happy, memoriesfrom your childhoos, he would nod along, his face unreadable but always at peace. But you noticed the way he would subtly recommend books you might like, covering it under the guise of "a friend recommended it, but i haven't had the time to read it yet, why don't you give it a try", the way he perked up when you actually listened and bought the book and said you enjoyed it. He was quiet, but you could feel it—the way he held on to every word, the way his presence lingered long after he was gone. His action spoke of how much he looked up to you, a father-figure that he had a normal relationship with.

Tim was an enigma. He barely slept, barely ate, but he always seemed to be there. At dinner. During family time. During late-night kitchen visits where he would sit across from you, a coffee cup in hand, while you ate a bowl of cereal. He would ramble about theories, about mysteries in books he read, some "case" from a the series he watched and though you hardly understood half of it, you nodded along, letting him talk. He needed that. He needed you. A presence that didn't tell him to quiet down, didn't butt in to tell him he was a bit too paranoid.

And Damian? Damian clung to you. Always following you around, like a puppy. It started small—sitting beside you, leaning against you, watching you with sharp green eyes. Then came the possessiveness, the way he would glare at his brothers when they got too close, the way he fell asleep in your bed without asking. Not much time had passed before he called you brother

“I will not betray the honor of being by your side,” he had murmured one night, curled up against you. It was meant to be a statement, not a question.

And then there was Bruce Wayne. The man that looked at you as if you hung the stars. He cared for you like no other, always making sure you were alright. He spent most of his free time with you and he made sure you knew that he appreciated the way you brought the family together. Family time before you would often lead to fights, regret or just utter silence, but with you here, someone so ordinary in a special way the time spent together was peacful. Even Alfred the butler always smiled at you.

At this point you couldn't leave, be it because of you or because of the family that would made sure you wouldn’t.

They weren’t going to let you go. You were part of their family, their brother and son, the light of the manor.

And worse?

You didn’t want to leave.

Because no one had ever loved you like this before. No one had ever looked at you like you were the most important thing in the world. It was sick, it was wrong, it was obsessive.

But it was also love.

And maybe that was enough.

Being a part of this family was probably the one thing in your life that felt right.

DC has a grip on my life rn, so feel free to request something. But other than that, i hope you all have a great day :)

[chaosartic]

His sunshine | LN4

word count: 0.5k words

warnings: fluff, bad writing

summary: Just a random lazy morning with Lando during the off season.

a/n: I finally did it, here is my first fic! Please note that english is not my first language and while I tried my best there are probably some spelling/grammar errors.

The sunlight of the early morning was already streaming through the partially closed curtains. Lando and y/n are curled up in bed, still asleep. With Landos career it was rare that the pair got to sleep in and enjoy their morning together.

Lando stirred a bit slowly waking up. His arms tightened around her holding her even closer to his chest, his sunshine. She got the nickname from Carlos shortly after they started dating. No matter what was going on, she always had a smile on her face and that smile was contagious. It didn’t take long for the rest of the grid and Lando to adopt the given nickname as well.

“Morning love” he said into her hairline, voice rough with sleep and low on the volume. He pressed a few kisses to her cheek and head. Deep in his heart Lando lived for these early quiet mornings with her. If anyone would ask him though he would deny it.

She turned around in her sleep, slowning waking up as well. Her head pressed against his chest when he mumbled a morning back to him while leaving a kiss right above his heart. “Do you have anything planned today?” She asked him.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, “Not really. Maybe stream later with Max.” He told her while pulling her closer to his chest. A gush of cold air came through the slightly opened window, the mornings are cold despite all the sunshine recently.

“Mhm” she hummed, snuggling closer into his embrace. She adored the time they had together like this. With him being away so much during the year for his career both of them learned to appreciate and take in small moments like this.

“Let's just stay like this for a little bit longer,” Lando said while looking at her eyes. “Please baby.” He added. She nodded her head more than happy with his idea of staying in bed and enjoying this.

That’s how they spend their morning. Cuddled up together, kissing each other lazily from time to time and just forgetting the rest of the world.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

I hope you enjoy it! Any (honest) feedback is appreciated!

Also I have some writing ideas for Oscar, George and Carlos. Let me know which one you want to have first. Request are also open if anyone is interested and has ideas.

[s4kura-tr3]

Jjk men who lends their jacket for their s/o, bc their freezing?

!pre relationship

Gojo - The autumn air was sharper than you expected, slipping through your clothes like a whisper of ice. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to ignore the way your skin prickled with the chill. The plan had been simple—just a quick walk through the city after dinner—but now, with the wind picking up, you regretted not grabbing a jacket before leaving.

Gojo, of course, was unfazed. Dressed in his usual effortless confidence, hands tucked in his pockets, he didn’t seem to notice the cold at all. But he did notice you.

“You shivering?” His voice was teasing, but there was something softer beneath it. He cocked his head, his signature smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No,” you lied, even as another gust of wind made you wince.

He hummed, clearly unconvinced. Then, without warning, he shrugged off his jacket—a thick, expensive thing that smelled like him, all faint cologne and something undeniably Gojo. Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders, his hands lingering just long enough to make your heart stutter.

“Can’t have you freezing on me,” he said, grinning. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I let that happen?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest. “I never said you were a gentleman.”

“Ouch,” he laughed, nudging your side as he fell back into step beside you. “You wound me.”

Despite your words, you pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, letting its warmth seep into your skin. It was big on you, the sleeves dangling past your hands, but you didn’t mind. Especially not when Gojo glanced over, a satisfied gleam in his eyes.

Yeah. Maybe you’d “forget” to give it back.

Geto - The evening air was colder than you had expected. You hadn’t thought much of it when you left earlier, but now, with the wind sneaking through the fabric of your sleeves, you wished you had. Hugging your arms to your chest did little to stop the chill, but you refused to say anything.

Unfortunately for you, Geto noticed anyway.

“You’re cold.” It wasn’t a question—just a quiet observation, spoken with that calm certainty he always carried.

You started to shake your head, ready to deny it, but before you could, he was already moving. With an easy shrug, he slid his jacket off his shoulders and draped it over yours, the weight of it warm and steady. The scent of him—clean, familiar, something faintly like incense—wrapped around you as much as the fabric did.

“You don’t have to—”

“Just wear it,” he said, voice amused but firm. His fingers brushed against your arm as he adjusted the collar, making sure it covered you properly. The touch was fleeting, but it sent warmth curling through you in a way the jacket alone couldn’t.

You sighed, giving in. “You’re annoying.”

Geto chuckled, stuffing his hands into his pockets now that they were bare to the cold. “And yet, you’re still wearing my jacket.”

You pulled it tighter around yourself, the sleeves far too long for you, but somehow, that only made it better. When you peeked up at him, he was watching you with that small, knowing smile of his—the kind that made you feel like you had already lost whatever argument was about to happen.

Nanami - The night air was sharper than you expected, chilling you to the bone despite your best efforts to ignore it. You folded your arms across your chest, trying to preserve what little warmth you had, but the wind wasn’t forgiving. A small shiver betrayed you.

Nanami noticed instantly.

Without hesitation, he let out a quiet sigh and slipped off his jacket. Before you could protest, he draped it over your shoulders with careful hands, his touch lingering as he adjusted the fit, making sure you were properly covered. The weight of it was warm, comforting—so distinctly him.

“You should have told me you were cold,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual. Not scolding—just concerned.

You glanced up at him, ready to argue, but the look in his eyes stopped you. There was no frustration, no exasperation. Just quiet care.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, pulling the jacket tighter around yourself. It was big, the sleeves comically long, but you didn’t mind. If anything, it made you feel even warmer.

Nanami sighed again, this time more gently, almost amused. “You’re never a bother,” he said simply, like it was the easiest truth in the world.

His hand came up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face before settling lightly against your shoulder. His thumb brushed over the fabric of the jacket—just once, absentmindedly, as if reassuring himself that you were warm enough.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded, swallowing down the sudden warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah… better.”

A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he stepped back. “Good,” he murmured. “If you get colder, just tell me. I won’t let you freeze.”

Sukuna - The cold night air bit at your skin, creeping through your clothes no matter how much you tried to ignore it. You hated showing weakness around him of all people, but your body betrayed you—a small shiver ran through you before you could stop it.

Sukuna, who had been walking just ahead of you, suddenly stopped. Without turning around, he let out a low chuckle.

“You’re trembling,” he mused, voice dripping with amusement.

You straightened, forcing yourself to scoff. “I’m fine.”

He finally turned to face you, his crimson eyes gleaming with something unreadable. His gaze swept over you, slow and knowing, before he let out a dramatic sigh. “Pathetic.”

Before you could snap back at him, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it in your direction. You barely caught it, startled by the unexpected gesture. The fabric was thick and warm, and the scent of him—smoky, sharp, and undeniably Sukuna—lingered in every fiber.

You stared at him, suspicious. “You care?”

He smirked, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, voice dropping into something almost dangerous. “If you freeze to death, it’ll be annoying.”

You rolled your eyes but slipped the jacket on anyway, unable to hide the way your body instantly relaxed into its warmth. It was big—far too big—but strangely, that made it all the more comforting.

Sukuna watched you, his gaze dark and unreadable. Then, with a scoff, he reached out, tugging the collar higher around your neck with a rough but precise touch.

“You look ridiculous,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his words.

You smirked. “And yet, you still gave it to me.”

His eyes narrowed, but instead of responding, he simply turned and kept walking. “Hurry up,” he called over his shoulder. “I’m not waiting all night.”

You smiled to yourself, pulling the jacket tighter around you as you followed after him.

Toji - The night air was sharp, cutting through your clothes no matter how much you tried to ignore it. You rubbed your arms, trying to preserve what little warmth you had, but it wasn’t doing much. The last thing you wanted was to complain—especially not in front of him.

Toji, who had been walking beside you, let out a low chuckle. “Tch. You’re shivering.”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I’m not.”

He shot you a knowing look, sharp green eyes glinting under the dim streetlights. “Yeah? Then what’s this?” Before you could react, he reached out and ran a calloused finger down your bare arm, making you shudder for an entirely different reason.

You smacked his hand away, scowling. “You are such an ass.”

He only grinned, that lazy, cocky smirk of his settling on his lips. But before you could snap at him again, he did something that genuinely surprised you—he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it at you.

The weight of it was warm, heavy, and carried him all over it—faint cologne, something smoky, and a little bit of gunpowder, like trouble and comfort all at once. You blinked at him, caught off guard.

“You’re giving me your jacket?”

Toji scoffed. “I ain’t giving you anything. Just borrowing it before you turn into an icicle. Don’t get used to it.”

Despite his words, his hand reached out again, this time grabbing the collar and tugging it snug around your shoulders. The gesture was rough, almost impatient, but weirdly…gentle. You swallowed, caught somewhere between rolling your eyes and letting your heart stutter.

“You’re warm now, yeah?” he asked, his voice quieter this time.

You nodded, trying to ignore how ridiculously huge the jacket was on you. “Yeah…”

“Good.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, his smirk returning. “’Cause I’m not carrying your frozen ass home.”

You snorted, pulling the jacket tighter around you. “Sure, Toji.”

He glanced at you, something amused—maybe even a little fond—lingering in his gaze before he turned away. “Hurry up,” he muttered, resuming his pace.

You smiled to yourself, knowing damn well he was walking just a little slower for you.

Megumi - The night air was colder than you expected, creeping through your clothes and making you instinctively rub your arms for warmth. You didn’t say anything, though. Complaining wasn’t really your thing—especially not in front of him.

Megumi, walking beside you with his hands stuffed in his pockets, glanced over. His expression, as always, was unreadable, but his sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing.

“You’re cold,” he stated plainly.

You shook your head, forcing a small smirk. “I’m fine.”

Megumi let out a quiet sigh, one that sounded suspiciously like you’re impossible. Without another word, he slipped off his jacket and held it out to you, not even looking in your direction as he did.

“Here.”

You blinked at him. “You don’t have to—”

“Just take it,” he muttered, a faint hint of exasperation in his tone. But despite the gruffness, there was something so Megumi about the gesture—quiet, thoughtful, and without any expectation of thanks.

You hesitated for half a second before slipping it on. The warmth was immediate, and the scent of him—something clean and familiar, a little bit like pine—wrapped around you. The jacket was a little big, but you didn’t mind.

“…Thanks,” you said, your voice softer now.

Megumi simply hummed in acknowledgment, eyes still fixed ahead. But after a beat, he glanced over at you, his gaze flickering to where his jacket swallowed you whole. His lips parted slightly like he wanted to say something—but instead, he just shook his head, stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“…Just don’t get sick,” he muttered, looking away again.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “You’re sweet, you know that?”

Megumi scoffed, his ears suspiciously pink. “Shut up.”

You laughed, pulling the jacket tighter around yourself. He might have pretended not to care, but you knew better.

Yuji - The cold was relentless, biting through your clothes no matter how much you tried to ignore it. You rubbed your arms, silently cursing yourself for not checking the weather before leaving. Yuji, walking beside you, had been talking animatedly about some movie he watched recently, but his words suddenly trailed off.

You glanced up at him just in time to see his brows knit together in concern. “Wait… are you cold?”

You immediately shook your head. “Nope. Totally fine.”

Yuji squinted at you, unconvinced. Then, without another word, he stopped in his tracks. Before you could question it, he yanked off his jacket in one swift motion.

“Here.” He didn’t wait for you to protest—he just grinned and draped it over your shoulders, pulling the fabric snug around you like it was second nature. His hands lingered at your arms for a second, rubbing warmth into them before finally stepping back.

You looked up at him, surprised. “Yuji, you really don’t have to—”

He waved a hand dismissively. “No way! What kind of friend—” he paused, tilting his head, “or super cool guy would I be if I let you freeze?”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head at him. “Super cool guy, huh?”

“Obviously,” he said with a wink. “But I’d be an even cooler guy if you let me buy you something warm to drink too.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. His jacket was big on you, the sleeves almost swallowing your hands, and the scent of him—warm and a little sweet, like citrus and something undeniably Yuji—wrapped around you.

“…Fine,” you relented. “But only because I don’t want your jacket to go to waste.”

Yuji grinned, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he fell into step beside you again. “Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

He nudged your shoulder playfully, and despite the cold air still biting at your cheeks, you felt warm.

[infimace-blog]

Keep coming back to this and thinking about the asker's perception of the Weatherlight Saga, because it's definitely not free of 'identity first' storytelling.

Tahngarth's entire plotline revolves around his identity as a minotaur, a racial characteristic in Dominaria. He's forced to question whether he's still himself, still a minotaur after Phyrexia captures and disfigures him, and the payoff for that is that a minotaur tribe starts decorating themselves after his new, distorted form when he helps rescue them from Phyrexia later on. So, you know, having identity issues during a apocalypse, like having a gender crisis during a Bolas invasion.

Mirri was discriminated against for having heterochromia, forcing her to leave her birth family. The desire to belong weighs on her so much that one of her big choices is whether to abandon her best friend and secret love for another tribe of catpeople who do respect her. It's less of a factor in her story than her doomed love for Gerrard, but, frankly, her willingness to get herself killed over a nice white boy for whom she was third-place (after Hanna and Rofellos) makes a lot more sense if if you take abandonment and isolation issues into account.

Maybe the asker didn't notice because these identity issues were put on the non-human side characters. But, you know, they were still there. They're some of my favorite parts of the Weatherlight Saga to talk about, besides the competition to become evincar and Urza's bizarre behavior. And while this happened with funny animal people, the structure is analogous to things the anti-woke crowd would hate. Tahngarth's identity issues are reminiscent of those of black people living in largely white societies. And there's a lot of people under the 'DEI' banner who've had to deal with getting kicked out of their home for being born wrong, often queer or disabled or neuroatypical people.

This is how you give characters good storylines, especially with Magic's limited ability to get the story in front of people who just play the cards. You find an aspect of themselves that they care deeply about, something fairly obvious and easy to communicate, and see how the external world impacts that. And we're still seeing that now. Chandra's putting herself through death-defying adventure in Aetherdrift because it might help her lover, and her love for her is a major part of her identity. Tone's certainly different than the lovelorn motivations of Mirri or Gerrard or Ertai over the course of the Weatherlight Saga, but it's the same building blocks.

I think more of that kind of characterization would have been beneficial for Sisay, honestly. I can't speak for Mark or Michael, but I've never really been interested in her because most of her story is about what she does rather than who she is. Gerrard bores me for similar reasons; I find it difficult to get a read on his personality besides 'heroic' and 'white savior'. It strikes me that the two greatest heroes of that era were raised and, in one case, born from Jamuraa, Dominaria's stand-in for Africa, but that never really comes up in the saga. Gerrard's background exists to give him an evil black stepbrother and the most important part of Sisay's is growing up owning the Weatherlight - I generally forget that she even fought in the Mirage Wars.

So yeah, I think anyone on the same page as the guy who asked this is not interested in getting good stories out of Magic. I'm regularly unimpressed by Magic's story output over the past decade, but I can't tolerate anybody who thinks the answer to that is 'make the characters less interesting. Shave their identities down'.

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[red-garden]

Shen Yuan has come to the decision that the best thing he can do after transmigrating is to fake his own death of a qi deviation in the Ling Xi caves and disappear. No human stick necessary if the protagonist can’t even find him. And, Liu Qingge will survive if there’s no scum villain to kill him!

Fate was not on his side. It turns out Liu Qingge really did have a deadly qi deviation in the caves, and Shen Yuan can’t just leave him to die! He’ll stabilize his qi and bolt as soon as the other man is stable.

However, Liu Qingge is a freak of nature. Practically as soon as he’s stabilized and Shen Yuan is ready to go, he wakes up. Shit.

Liu Qingge is no more happy with this situation. He owes Shen Qingqiu a life debt. Fml

Once he can convince Shen Yuan to not immediately leave, Shen Yuan makes him agree to help him fake his death and run away. Of course that honorless letch would run away from his responsibilities, but it’s not like he can say no….

LQG leaves the caves briefly for medical treatment (and to get supplies for SQQ to flee). Upon his return, they sneak out. SQQ is….. different on the road. A lot different.

He’s happy, excitable, smiling. Was he always really like this, hiding it under a cool mask in the sect? Is he playing at something? Was his life that bad as a peak lord?

Eventually they find a town in need of an apothecary. Shen Yuan buys the cottage and takes over the garden. It’s the perfect job, he can quote every plant from PIDW and its properties backwards and forwards. And with his knowledge of modern medicine, maybe he can actually help people in this world instead of just making his disciples miserable.

SQQ takes to the post like a fish to water. LQG has never seen him like this with other people- mere strangers of nowhere. But SQQ is smiling, helping people, doing charity work…. Had he always been this kind? This enchanting?

LQG makes the trip to and from the sect many times to check on SQQ and bring supplies. He’s hardly repaid a debt of life, so it’s the least he can do. He’s finding himself more eager to leave the sect than ever before. All the time he spends hunting monsters, it’s to bring rate ingredients to SQQ and take care of the beasts plaguing the villagers. The villages have come to expect them together.

The sect did not buy that SQQ died of a qi deviation that didn’t leave behind a body, and LQG poor lies did nothing to help. YQY and SQQ’s personal disciples have been pulling their hair out over his absence for the past several months. Eventually they follow LQG on one of his many trips from the sect, coming to an unremarkable village LQG has dragged a shorthaired beast to. In an apothecarian’s cottage, they find the missing peak lords leaning against each other by a fire, sharing a meal and talking like old friends….. more than friends is YQY is being honest.

[arkhamsbrat]

you were robbed of summer, i was robbed of you

jason todd x civilian reader

when jason left, your light did too. six years of your life spent attached at jason’s hip crumbled around you with one knock on your door, and a small shoe box of old journals and trinkets was placed in your hands. they told you the funeral was that next week. you barely had time to register that they told you how he really died. asked you to keep it to yourself.

that boy you spent your childhood with, running through dark allies and making the best of your shitty little lives was gone. the boy who read to you, sat in the gamestop and played the trial of mario kart with you til you got kicked out, gone. you didn’t even get to say goodbye. they didn’t even let you see him before they buried him.

at least the bastard pitied you was kind enough to let you visit Mr. Wayne’s graveyard. you left letters, flowers, anything that reminded you of him. there were too many times that Mr. Wayne found you passed out against his tombstone. you’d wake up back in your own home, unsure of how you got there. it didn’t matter.

the next four years were miserable, barely scraping by without a few trips to the hospital from your constant exhaustion. you made it, at least. got a little cat to give you something to motivate you. her name was robin. a little stray you found on your fire escape. jason would’ve loved her.

you could see it when you closed your eyes. jason sitting on your couch, crooked smile wide as robin climbed all over him. how he’d whisper to her when he thought you couldnt hear. you saw him everywhere, doing everything. because that’s where he should be.

heroes came back all the time. the flashes, superboy, impulse, even batman. what did you need to do to bring him back? what did you have to give up? did you need to tear yourself in two all over again just to get your best friend back?

these thoughts played over and over, every single day that passed. it got to the point where you could see little silver hairs sprouting out of your head after april passed. they got thicker in august, when you kneeled by the edge of your toilet and sobbed so hard you got sick. he should be 21 now, piss drunk on your ragged old couch and cackling at how you stumbled around.

you felt pathetic when robin came and nuzzled at your leg, meowing for your attention. you ran your fingers through her fur before pulling her into your arms, feeling her purr. “how dumb do i look right now, jayce?” you muttered to yourself, bitterly. “makin’ you real proud, i bet.”

you didn’t hear the boots hit against your fire escape, nor did you see red hood slink down to peer through your smudged windows. it’d become a habit of his, though he was disappointed you weren’t as aware of your surroundings as you should’ve been.

jason watched. almost nightly. thats more than what he thought he deserved. nearly threw up in his mask the first time he saw your grey streak, stress induced.

the two of you were strangers now, he reminded himself consistently. the boy you knew was long gone, and he strongly doubted you would ever accept any of his changes. he’d hoped you’d changed for the worst. maybe he’d find something he could move on from. something to hate you for. maybe he could throw away the letters he wrote to you in hopes that one day he could come to you. in hopes he’d be able to come home.

thats what he’d always found in you. he craved it- the simplicity of you. hell, he’d even take you yelling at him for being stupid. for leaving you. he’d find a home in that, as long as it was your voice raising at him. before he came back, he was afraid you’d forgotten. he’d hoped you didn’t, in a fucked up way he hoped you’d hurt the same way he did. that you’d never forgotten him.

he regretted those wishes the minute he saw you crying over a cheap cookie with a candle stabbed through, drunk off your own ass. the date didn’t even cross his mind when he landed, only looking to check in on you. he had to fight back his own tears when it dawned on him. even now, you cared about his birthday?

if he wasn’t so stupid you wouldn’t be alone. if he didn’t care so much, if he didn’t go to-

you looked up before he got to finish any of his thoughts, letting out a shrill scream when you saw the masked vigilante on your fire escape. if he wasn’t so upset he would’ve laughed at how fast you grabbed your cat and raced to your bedroom, nearly tripping against the toys strewn about the floor. he’d wanted to mock you about how you spoiled that cat. jason wanted to be with you again. to be normal with you.

he’d never see you again if he could just tell you that you’re what got him through it all. it’s always been you, always will be. thirty minutes pass while he contemplated if he deserves to be selfish with you before he just said fuck it. he slid your window open and slipped through, searching for your room.

he’d get on you about actually locking the damn window later.

jason couldn’t find it in him to care about hiding that it was him. it was you he was telling. no matter the fear blooming from deep withinin him, he knew you’d see him. trust him. love him, if he let you.

the red hood mask got thrown onto your couch while he scrambled to your door. he knew you could hear his footsteps, probably scared shitless. how was he supposed to start this?

“been a long time…” he spoke, barely able to mask the shake in his voice. “i didn’t… i didn’t think you’d still think about me, honestly. i hoped you did, but… everyone else seemed to replace me. shoulda known you never would’ve…” jason couldn’t feel how his whole body shook as he kept speaking, barely remembering when he slid down to the floor.

“thought about you every god damn day, y’know? always wanted to tell you that. wondered if you went to school. if you were still damn awful at chemistry… did’jya start workin’ at that little cafe? said y’would once you turned sixteen…” he rambled on, tears spilling down his scarred cheeks. “i know y’don’t know me anymore… y’lost your jason… but i probably lost my you too… y’look miserable. that my fault too?”

jason heard the floorboards creak from the other side of the door. a quiet shuffling, alongside a very upset meow as a cats paw swiped under the door, catching at his jeans. he laughed quietly, setting his hand down so the cat could paw at him instead of the jeans that he just stole off some douchebag that tried to mug a mother thrifted. he felt his whole body tense when you finally spoke. “her name’s robin… thought jason would’ve liked that. none’a this is his fault.”

“i do.” he pressed his head against the door, seconds away from begging you to open it. a cat… you named your scraggly ass cat after him. you sounded exhausted- if he could snap his fingers and take it all from you, he’d do it in a heartbeat. “jason’s dead… they said he got killed by…” he let out a sharp sigh. “i wanted to come back to you, i swear. it’s a real long story.”

he heard more shuffling behind the door, and then a click. your head peeked through the crack. “…i never make plans on your birthday…i have time?” for the first time in a long time, jason felt a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth. “are you gonna remember any of this in the morning, drunkard?”

his grin widens when you shrug, teary eyes boring into his. “then i get to see you for the first time all over again. jackass.”

[conflicctuar]

Seeing you, is so estrange... I feel things but at the same time I don't feel anything. I feel somehow comfy on your arms, but also I can hear the distance.

Would you be capable of really love me?

I know I fucked up, I ended up being really fast, we fuck and it was actually good, not what I was looking but... it was refreshing. And I see it, I know you're just leaving a relationship. And I know I never meant the same for you, as you meant for me...

I feel I already know how this is going to end. I already know where this shit is going to arrive.

Maybe, that's why I feel the grief lost. Even when, were actually just nothing.

I have this sensation you're going to be just the same as him. Someone who I'm goin to fall for, but for you I'm just going to be an irrelevant someone else in your life.

Damn, I really don't make the best decisions.

[rafesangelita]

♡ deciding to take a ride on the ‘tunnel of love’ roller coaster at the annual valentine’s day fair, rafe happens to catch you before it starts, conveniently locking himself in next to you. annoyed, you tell yourself you’ll be out and away from the man once the ride is over but (un)luckily for you, it just so happens to break down, leaving you two stuck together until it’s fixed..

warnings: one sided enemies to lovers (reader is the one who can’t stand rafe lol), forced proximity, teasing, flirty banter, slight angst (just a teeny tiny bit, it’s literally almost nonexistent), light fluff

a/n: now presenting… ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE’ 🤍 my town just so happens to be having a valentine’s day fair.. maybe (hopefully) i’ll go!

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 1.4k

[7:57 PM] bestie ♡: it looks like kelce is going to take me out for v-day after all!! don’t wait for me, i’ll catch up soon, promise!

you had just bought an extra large funnel cake for you and your best friend to share when you read her text, your sugary sweet smile faltering as you took a seat at a nearby bench. “more for me, i guess..” you sighed, feeling a little bit silly at the fact that you sat here by yourself when everyone who passed you by was either in a group setting or hand in hand with someone who was most likely their significant other.

you picked at the fried goodness, not really feeling as festive as you were just two minutes ago. “yo, y/n!” you recognized the voice before you even looked up, your eyes immediately rolling as none other than rafe ‘insufferable daddy’s money’ cameron made his way over to you. ‘please let this be quick..’ you whispered under your breath, not sparing the man a single glance as he plopped down ridiculously close to you.

“what do you want, rafe?” he smiled when he heard his name roll off of your tongue, his muscular arm draping across your shoulders as his mouth dropped next to your ear. “can you at least act like you could tolerate me?” you scoffed, shrugging him off. “no, i can’t,” you finally looked at him, “because even that is too difficult to do.” he swallowed thickly, feeling slightly defeated before he went for the funnel cake that sat in your lap.

“i’m really not that bad, i’ll make you realize that soon.” rafe was also too confident and cocky for your liking— more reasons you could add to your seemingly never ending list as to why you think you two would never work out.

“i highly doubt that.” rafe was licking powdered sugar off of his fingers when you met his gaze again, your eyes flickering down to his tongue. the one thing that you couldn’t put on your list was that he wasn’t hot. anyone with eyes can tell you that rafe was insanely attractive, but of course, you’d never admit that to him out loud.. or so you thought. “you’re staring.” he smiled when he saw that your eyes stayed trained on his mouth, a smug expression taking over his features.

you blinked away, deciding you had enough chit-chat for one night. “in your dreams, ‘cameron.” rafe watched you get up from your seat, gladly taking the funnel cake you basically shoved into his hands. “why, thank you.” he took another piece, popping it into his mouth. you flashed him a fake smile before adjusting the strap of your crossbody purse. “i’ll see you around!” he called out, waving obnoxiously in your direction. “no you won’t!” you whispered to yourself, deciding to explore the fair a bit more.

little did you know conversation between you and rafe was far from over.

you walked around the fair grounds for almost fifteen more minutes before you had decided you were better off at home eating some greasy takeout and having a rom-com movie marathon in nothing but your comfy pj’s.

just as you were on your way to the exit, a flashing heart with the words ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE.. find your lover inside!’ caught your attention. deciding you’d at least inquire about it, you walked up to the ride operator and asked away. “excuse me! hi, i was just wondering what does the whole ‘find your lover inside!’ thing mean?” the woman lit up as if she had been dying to answer this question.

“so basically there’s another roller coaster coming from the other side, and once you two meet inside, the ride will stop for two minutes before coming back out to the respective entrances.” she explained. “so it’s like speed dating?” you smiled, the idea enthralling you. “yeah, that’s exactly it!” she nodded. you weighed out your options and decided a little excitement wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“i’m suprised you don’t have a line, how much is it to get on?” you took your wallet out of your purse as she replied. “if you have a full-access wristband it’s free, but if not then it’ll be five dollars exactly.” you handed over the small bill, smiling to yourself as she let you through the metal gate. “it looks like two people can fit in here—” just as you stepped in, rafe came running from the opposite direction.

“stop the ride!” he shouted, his chest rising and falling as he bent over to catch his breath. you blinked. “it’s not even on, you drama queen.” taking a seat, you were about to pull the metal bar over your lap before he shouted again. “i’ll give you fifty bucks if you let me get on with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest, not expecting the ride operator to actually let him in. “seriously?!” you gasped when he walked through, flashing you a wink.

“sorry!” she pushed the guardrail over you and rafe until it locked in place before starting the ride. “this will all be over in two minutes.” you glared at him, trying to scoot as many centimeters away from him as you could. “that’s fine with me.” he shrugged. he leaned back in the cart, red and pink flashing lights illuminating the space in which you two rolled into slowly.

rafe kept his eyes on you, watching as you avoided his gaze. “why don’t you like me? serious question..” you sighed, finally giving him your full undivided attention. you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. “what?” you acted like you didn’t hear him the first time, wracking your brain for any kind of answer. he smiled teasingly, pointing a finger at you. “i asked you why you don’t like me and you can’t even answer me!” you waved him off, facing the other way to hide the smile on your lips.

truthfully, you didn’t really know who rafe was. like just by himself as an individual. you knew that his friends were all assholes though, including the one who your best friend was willing to drop everything for. “i hate your friends,” you started, “and you are who you keep company with, sooo..” rafe cleared his throat as the roller coaster came to a stop. the inside of the ‘love tunnel’ was lit up with baby cherubs along the walls, red hearts and fairy lights adorning the interior.

“me and my friends are very different from each other.. i think you’d be surprised.” you hummed, adjusting the pendant on your necklace. “maybe..” the other roller coaster cart strolled in from the other side, the seats empty. “i guess it’s a good thing that i tagged along, since you would’ve been all by yourself if i didn’t.”

you glanced over at him, his blue eyes standing out in the pinkish lighting. “..yeah, i guess.” rafe’s head shot up as soon as the words left your mouth. “you really think so?” he scooted closer, the action making you laugh. “don’t push it.” you warned him, in which he held his hands up defensively. “okay, okay!” rafe had this smitten look on his face as if making you smile was his life’s greatest achievement.

“so you told me why you didn’t like me, which is fair, but i want a real chance at proving you wrong. can you at least give me that?” rafe hesitantly rested a hand on your knee, the hopeful look in his eyes making your heart melt into a soft puddle of mush. “hmm..” you pretended to think, the anticipation making rafe’s leg bounce. “okay. only under one condition though..” rafe nodded frantically.

“anything.”

“tell me why you like me so much when i avoid you like the plague, and never seemingly look in your direction.. like ever.” the man next to you snorted. “you want me to go down my full list? ‘cause we’ll be sitting here all night—” just then, the ride operator’s voice boomed through the intercom speakers from inside the tunnel. “hi, i’m so sorry for the inconvenience, but we’re having some technical difficulties and my electrician guy says it’ll be at least an hour or two before you could leave. i promise to issue a full refund once you two are off.”

you and rafe looked at each other half concerned and half amused. “..so, you were saying?”

[jiminomenon]

what is jimin’s reaction to assistant yn threatening to quit?

from my series: the devil wears prada

the penthouse was silent—eerily so, considering the shouting match that had just taken place. the air between them was thick, charged with lingering frustration and unspoken words. jimin stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed, expression locked in a stubborn scowl. y/n was a few feet away, breathing heavily, fists clenched at her sides.

neither of them had meant for it to escalate like this. it started with something minor—an argument over jimin’s impossible demands, her bratty attitude, the way she acted like y/n was hers to boss around twenty-four-seven. but then, words were thrown like knives, sharp and cutting.

and then y/n snapped.

“maybe i should just quit, then!”

the words ripped through the space between them. jimin stiffened instantly, her brows drawing together.

“what?” her voice was dangerously quiet.

y/n exhaled sharply, still fueled by frustration. “if you’re just gonna keep treating me like this, maybe i should just leave, huh? find another job where i’m actually respected.”

jimin scoffed, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “you wouldn’t dare.”

“why not?” y/n challenged, eyes blazing. “give me one good reason why i shouldn’t.”

jimin opened her mouth, but for once in her life, she had no comeback. no smug remarks, no bratty retorts. because the idea of y/n actually leaving—actually walking away—felt like a punch to the gut.

her jaw tightened. “you’re being dramatic.”

y/n let out a bitter laugh. “of course you’d say that.”

jimin hated this. hated the way y/n looked at her right now—like she was tired of her, like she was done.

“you’re not quitting,” jimin said firmly, like it was a fact, like she refused to acknowledge the possibility.

“and why not?”

“because—” jimin’s voice faltered. she wanted to say because i need you—because she couldn’t imagine her life without y/n constantly by her side, keeping her in check, understanding her in ways no one else did.

but that wasn’t how she worked. she didn’t admit things like that. she didn’t let people know how much they mattered.

“because i said so,” she settled on instead.

y/n’s expression darkened. “you don’t own me, jimin.”

“i never said i did.”

“but you act like it!”

the silence that followed was suffocating.

jimin hated the thought of y/n leaving, but she also hated feeling like this—out of control, vulnerable, on the verge of losing something she refused to name.

so she did what she did best.

she walked away.

but before she could fully disappear into her bedroom, y/n’s voice cut through the air.

“you don’t even care, do you?”

jimin froze.

“if i left, it wouldn’t even matter to you, right?” y/n’s voice was quieter now, but still laced with hurt. “you’d just find someone else to boss around.”

something snapped inside jimin. she turned around, storming back toward y/n, eyes burning with something unreadable.

“it would matter,” she said, voice low. “it would matter a lot.”

y/n blinked.

jimin exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair, frustrated—at y/n, at herself, at the entire situation.

“you think i don’t care?” jimin continued, tone softer now but still firm. “you think i’d just let you go that easily?”

y/n didn’t respond.

jimin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i’m sorry, alright?”

y/n’s brows shot up. “what?”

jimin groaned. “don’t make me say it again.”

y/n stared at her, searching for any sign of insincerity—but, for once, jimin actually meant it.

a small smirk tugged at y/n’s lips. “wow. never thought i’d hear those words come out of your mouth.”

jimin rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “don’t get used to it.”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. her frustration wasn’t completely gone, but… jimin had apologized. and for someone as stubborn as her, that was a huge deal.

“you’re impossible,” y/n muttered.

jimin smirked. “and yet, here you are. still not quitting.”

y/n sighed dramatically. “unfortunately.”

but there was a warmth in her eyes now, and jimin—though she’d never say it out loud—felt like she could finally breathe again.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Desperation Bruce Wayne x fem!Reader

MDNI wc: 1.8K warnings: smut, softdom!bruce, p in v, light spanking (?), praise, was too lazy to write the aftercare, so just imagine it summary: Bruce gets frustrated at the charity event and eventually takes it out on you once you are home. a/n: divider (@saradika-graphics), i felt myself cringe while writing this, and that usually means that i did well. but still, im sorry if it's too cheesy or unrealistic, i did my best to give you my vision😖

You know that Bruce despises events like these, too many rich people who never had to work a single day in their life, who always try to brag to him about the most unimpressive stuff, or try to have intelligent conversations about economics or social studies. It‘s all the same stuff as well, it‘s always the same ‘intelligent‘ discoveries these people try to tell him about. Fortunately, you only had to hear about Bruce complains and never had to fave these people on your own. Unfortunately, you convinced your husband to tag along with him tonight.

You didn‘t expect for a lot of people to approach the both of you, but it still happened, as Bruce is used to. But when they did, they never really acknowledged you. The very least someone did acknowledge you, was to simply give you a side glance before continuing to ‘subtly‘ brag about about how many cars he has.

Bruce‘s hand stays at its familiar place, around your waist, giving you an occasional squeeze. The squeezes become more frequent as the people around the round table keep talking to him, not giving him a chance to even steal a sip of his drink. You notice his growing frustration, even when he hides it well. The guests around the ball room are chatting amongst themselves, creating a bubble of mixed conversations, together with the subtle scent of alcohol and different perfumes. No doubts, expensive.

Finally, Bruce has a brilliant idea, and excuses the two of you from the table, before standing up and walking to the middle of the dance area.

»All this talk about money and expensive models gets on my nerves… they don‘t even bother talking about the topic of today‘s event.« He murmurs lowly as he smoothly glides you along with him, one hand holding yours, the other propped up against the curve of your waist.

You chuckle softly in return, studying his tired features, »I know... they actually make me feel like an intelligent person for once.«

Bruce expression softens finally, keeping his eyes glued to you.

»You are intelligent… even if it‘s not hard to be smarter than them.« He can‘t help but tease lightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. You pinch his shoulder in return, crinkling his perfect suit slightly.

Your peaceful dance under the classical music from the romantic era gets interrupted as a rather old man approaches the both of you, wearing a rich smile on his face. Bruce‘s expression falls immediately, reluctantly stopping the dance, even though he selfishly wants to keep going and ignore everyone else. But that would be childish, too.

»I sincerely apologise for interrupting your wonderful dance, but I was wondering...«

Your husband restrains himself from letting out the most annoyed sigh ever, keeping himself composed in front of the unfamiliar man. Maybe another economics man, ready to ramble his ears off about nothing other than his spendings on money and begging for Bruce‘s opinion about his decisions.

You watch them interact with a faint smile, knowing very well about your husband‘s annoyance, noticing his jaw clench every now and then. Luckily, the older men steps away, leaving you alone.

»He could‘ve just… nevermind.« Bruce sighs out, not bothering to curse him out, considering you are both still at a public event. He shakes his head lightly and focuses his gaze back on you, expression growing less guarded. »Ready to leave? It‘s getting late.«

You can‘t deny his offer, getting sick of the sticky air inside the ballroom as well. Bruce feels more than reliefed once you step out of the large, barouque building, approaching the car, where Alfred‘s already sitting inside, waiting to drive you both home.

◖

Once inside, Bruce gets rid of his tie and hangs up his suit jacket, before he finally turns his full attention to you. You just got rid of your high heels and can‘t wait to slip into bed to give your feet a break, but once you glance at Bruce, you‘re sure this won‘t be happening anytime soon.

»I don‘t know ‘bout you, but this evening made me really worked up...«

He slurs out quietly while taking some steps closer to you, secretly hoping you feel the same way. He doesn‘t need to hope though, because you‘d be happy to provide him in anything. You nod in response, letting him come closer and almost close the gap between you both.

»Oh, definitely… but I kinda enjoyed seeing you frustrated for once.« You smirk up at him, a mischivous glint in your eyes. It makes him shakes his head lightly in return, although the corners of his lips curl up slightly.

»Cheeky,« he exhales softly before pulling you closer by your hip, gently connecting your lips into a sweet kiss. Your hand props up at his chest, curling around the cool fabric while Bruce deepens the kiss. He makes you tilt your head, his larger hand resting by the nape of your neck.

It takes a lot in him not to finish what he started in the hallway, but he eventually breaks the kiss and takes steadying breaths, his eyes trained on you like a prey.

Your back hits the door as soon as you reach your master bedroom, making you huff out softly. Bruce doesn‘t waste his time to attack your neck with open-mouthed kisses and light bites, working his way down to the column of your throat, and down to your collarbones. A quiet hiss escapes you as you feel his bites become harsher, probably enough to create faint marks the next day. Your hands desperately clinge to his shoulders, one at the back of his neck, keeping him close while keeping you steady on your feet. A soft growl escapes him, seeming impatient. His hands finally stop roaming over you curves, picking you up by the back of your thighs. He sets you up against the next furniture, his moves being rushed and needy. Due to his rushed demeanor, he placed you down on the surface of the dresser messily, making you shift to be more comfortable on it.

»Sorry, I… I didn‘t hurt you, right?« He catches his breath as he takes you in on top of the dresser, noticing your flushed demeanor.

»I‘m all good, just didn‘t expect this,« you answer, pulling him closer by the collar of his shirt. Bruce grows smug at your action, letting himself be pulled close again. His breath fans against you before he nuzzles to your neck. You feel a gentle tap at your thigh, his voice coming out low and commanding.

»C‘mon… spread,«

A light shiver goes through your spine, listening to his words without a single thought in your head. He settles in once your legs allow him to, pushing your evening dress a little more up.

You feel his cool hands trace your body until one of them travels down to your middle, gently rubbing and starting to work you up further. A breathy sigh leaves your lips before Bruce crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing all of your sounds. You weakly grip to his upper arm, supporting yourself as best as you can. His hand quickens its pace against your core through your lacy panties, making your brain melt. Your lips part further as your mind goes slack, allowing him to deepen the kiss and rub slow circles against your tongue with his.

A quiet whine leaves you as he suddenly stops, breaking the kiss too.

»Sorry, darl‘… patience.« He mumbles softly as he starts to undo his belt, keeping his hazy eyes trained on your face. You grow hotter under his eyes, trying to rub your thighs together again, but it‘s impossible with him between your legs. A faint smirk tugs at his lips, dragging his teeth against his bottom lip once his pants finally fall down.

Your eyes fall to his boxers, noticing the light patch on the front. Without further hesitation, Bruce‘s boxer briefs get pulled down, mixed with a quiet groan from his side.

He leans in again, his hot skin pressing against yours, feeling like you‘ll melt any second. You feel the way his lips trace along the side of your neck while he gently teases you, feeling his tip nudge against the outside of your panties. Your hand shoots out to hold onto him again, settling against his shirt as you grip tightly on him.

Having had finally enough of it, he pushes your panties to the side and dives in, being as gentle as he can, even in his desperate state. You tense up at the sensation, not used to his size, due to the busy lives of you both.

»Shh… it‘s okay. I‘ve got you,« Bruce gently shushes you and wrap his arms around your torso, keeping you close against him as he continues to gently drive in further.

You slowly relax again and regain your breath, keeping a tigh grip against his shirt. Once he bottoms out, you can‘t help but tremble slightly, being overwhelmed with the hotness and full feeling he provides. You nod against his shoulder, giving him the final sign for him to start out properly.

His rhythm starts out slow and sensual, but it quickly evolves into a quicker and rougher pace. He drives more urgently into you, trying to be gentle at the same time. The strokes are deep, knocking the breath out of your lungs. He adjusts his grip on you, changing the angle lightly as he continues to shove his hips against yours, not giving you a break.

The room fills with soft flaps from skin slapping against skin, your breathy moans mix with his deep groans, making the scene more erotic than it already is. The sensations finally start to kick in, making your breath hitch. He notices the slight shift in you, knowing it won‘t take long for you to come undone before him.

He leans back a bit to watch your face, his hands keeping a firm grip on your hips as he pushes himself into you even harder than before. Your eyes roll back, moans growing higher in pitch. He relieshes in the way you melt because of him, the way you look like you are losing your mind, all because of him.

He groans and a possesive feeling overcomes him, making his hips snap rougher against yours. Sure enough, your climax comes in after a few final thrusts, his jaw going slack as he feels how tightly you squeeze him.

His pace doesn‘t die down, if anything, he‘s trying to speed up a little further. It‘s not until he feels himself grow closer to the edge until he pulls out and continues to drive himself to pleasure with his fist. You hear him moan out softly and nestle his head against your shoulder once he finishes, white spurts of his cum painting your panties white. You run your hand along his back in a soothing motion, helping him calm down too. He comes down faster than you, meeting his eyes again after catching his breath.

»Let‘s clean ya‘ up… did so well for me.« He mutters as he rubs your upper thighs, eventually picking you back up into his arms and walking to the attached bathroom.

←MASTERLIST

[treatbuckywkisses]

one thing abt me is im going to read angst no matter how much it hurts me :')

their friend group is so cute & fun I loved the relationships you made between them

     “ Bucky, thank you for the offer, but-” Bucky interrupted you before you could continue,” Come on, doll. Just one date. I’ll keep it friendly,” there was a hopeful look in his eyes. There was a clear conflict of interest as coworkers if you said yes. If you said no, then things could go back to the way they were. You would, however, never get to see what Bucky was like on a first date. Something you found yourself intrigued to find out. He's so dreamy!! doll gets me every time 🥹

     You tensed up, Bucky pulling away when you did. “ Doll, was it bad? Did I do something wrong?” You shook your head profusely,” No, Bucky, you did everything right. This has been the best date I’ve ever had. It was amazing and you’re amazing, but this. . .this can't happen,” you tried to make yourself clear, but your voice faltered towards the end. He looked wounded,” What? Why? Y/n, I have feelings for you and I can tell you have feelings for me too. The way you kissed me now-” you stopped him there,” Please forget about the kiss. Forget about this ever becoming something more. It can’t and it won’t.” He was baffled and could barely form any words,” Why? You just said this has been the best date you've ever been on. How can everything be going so wrong now?” He leaned against the capsule, shaking his head in disbelief. The sight of him made your heart ache. NOOOO:( this hurts my tummy bucky is literally so precious and simply just trying to have a good time & follow his heart why would anyone break it 😭

     “ I’m not,” with that said, it's like you threw the key back at him. The ferris wheel came to a stop, neither of you moving to leave. Bucky was looking at you as if you were a stranger—maybe you were now.  I'm actually going to be violently ill over this for DAYS. how could you do this 😭😭 

     Nevertheless, Bucky insisted on convincing you otherwise, following you with the teddy bear in hand. You weren’t the only ones leaving, so the crowd was dense and easy to get lost in. In less than a minute, however, he lost sight of you. His hand no longer in yours making sure that didn’t happen.  UGH NO:(, the hand comment I'm ACHING :( this is so devastating 

so according to the law (my rb of the prequel thing) i must sue you, so pay up🫶🏻 (just make them in love)

Conflict of Interest

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After the many failed dates Natasha set you up on, you decide to give up on the dating scene all together. That is until Bucky makes it his mission to change your mind, but will he be enough to change it?

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning(s): angst + fluff / mentions of homicide and case details / cheating (from side character) / drinking / failed dates / heartbreak

a/n: In Five Years Part 2 is taking me longer than expected to write, so here’s a small fic in the meantime! My finals are in two weeks and I can’t wait to get them done and over with to finally have more free time to write! Thank you for reading! ❤️

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part II 

     “ No more, Nat. I can’t go on another date,” you shut down Natahsa’s latest offer, taking a sip of the freshly brewed coffee she made. She rolled her eyes, sitting next to you on the leather couch in your joint office.“ Y/n, you’re seriously going to turn down another guy? I haven’t even told you anything about him yet,” she egged the idea on. You shook your head, handing her the latest case you were assigned to prosecute. “ Can we please just focus on this case? The trial is in a few weeks and we need to be prepared,” you refused to entertain this conversation any longer. 

     “ I just think you’ll really like th-“

     “ No.”

     “ But this guy is really cute and a doctor an-“

     You gave her a stern look,” No, I’ve decided to stop dating all together. They never end well and at this point emotionally, I can’t handle it.” You stood up to grab one of your law books. You needed to brush up on the precedents for previous crimes of passion in New York. Natasha sighed, glancing over the first file,” Your dates haven’t been that bad.” 

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[moonmaiden1996]

If you're not a couple... How would Sanji react to you catching him masturbating and vice versa? 😏

Catching Sanji Masturbating 💛🔥

You weren’t expecting to walk in on him like this. Maybe you were looking for him in the kitchen, expecting to find him making a late-night snack, but instead, you find yourself standing frozen at the threshold of his dimly lit quarters.

And what you see?

Sanji sprawled out on his bed, half-undressed, shirt unbuttoned and barely hanging from his shoulders. Golden strands of his hair cling to his damp forehead, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. His fingers clutch desperately at the sheets beneath him, knuckles white from the strain, but it’s his other hand that really steals your attention.

He’s stroking himself—long, slow, deep strokes—hips bucking slightly, thighs trembling. And the worst (or best?) part?

"Nngh—ahhhh..."

He’s moaning your name.

A broken, needy sound that punches the air from your lungs.

The moment he realizes he’s not alone, everything stops. His entire body tenses, muscles locking up as his dazed, pleasure-clouded eyes flicker open. He meets your gaze, and the realization hits—his breath catches, face burning a deep shade of red, his mouth opening and closing like he’s scrambling for something—anything—to say.

"I-It’s not what it looks like!"

Oh, but it is.

Frantic, he tries to cover himself, grabbing the nearest object—which, unfortunately for him, is a thin pillow that does absolutely nothing to hide his straining, twitching arousal. His fingers tremble against the fabric, his chest still heaving as he struggles to regain any semblance of composure.

If you tease him? He might die on the spot. Stammering, apologizing, maybe even begging you to forget what you saw. But if you don’t leave—if you take even one slow, measured step closer—his breath hitches.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows thickly, muscles visibly tensing beneath his flushed, sweat-slicked skin. His hand twitches—like he wants to keep touching himself but doesn’t know if he can with you watching.

"D-Don’t just stand there looking at me like that…" his voice is barely more than a shaky whisper, hoarse and desperate. "You’re making it worse."

You own him now.

Because every time after this? Every single time he’s alone, needy and restless, his hand clamping around his aching cock his thoughts are going to go right back to this moment. To you standing there, watching him, teasing him, maybe even joining him.

Sanji was already down bad for you—this? This just sealed his fate, you are the one for him.

Sanji Catching You Masturbating—And Screaming His Name 🔥💛

You thought you were alone.

The ship was quiet, the night air cool, and everyone else had either retired or gone about their own business. It was safe. No one would walk in.

Or so you thought.

Your back arched off the mattress, fingers working over your heated skin, teasing yourself, chasing that sweet, blissful edge. Your breathy moans filled the room, growing louder, needier—until finally, the pleasure overwhelmed you, and the name on your lips spilled out in a sharp, helpless cry.

"S-Sanji—ahh—Sanji!"

And that was the moment the door slammed open.

"Merde—!"

A sharp, strangled inhale, followed by the thunk of something hitting the floor.

Your eyes fly open, panic spiking through your veins, and there he is—Sanji, standing in the doorway like he just walked into heaven and hell at the same time.

His breath is caught in his throat, his entire body locked up. His eyes, dark and wild, flicker from your flushed face to where your fingers are still buried between your thighs, glistening and trembling.

His cigarette slips from his lips. He doesn’t even notice.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then—

"Oh my god."

His voice is wrecked, deep, hoarse, and shaking as he grips the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him standing. His face is redder than his damn suit, and his chest heaves like he just sprinted across the entire ship.

*"I—I didn’t—I mean, I heard—*mon dieu—I thought you were in danger—" his voice breaks slightly, physically trembling now. His knuckles are white from how hard he’s gripping the wood.

And then? His knees buckle.

He drops to the floor like his legs have completely given out.

His gaze is glued to you, pupils blown wide with a mixture of shock, arousal, and something darker. He’s still trying—trying to be a gentleman, trying to look away, to respect you, but his hands twitch against his thighs, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips, and—oh, he’s struggling.

"I—do you—" he swallows hard, voice dangerously low, "Do you need help?"

And if you nod? If you so much as whisper his name again?

He whimpers.

And if you order him to stay....To watch? To help?

Sanji—sweet, hopelessly lovesick, would be in heaven because he will die from the most powerful nose bleed to ever overtake him.

Eitherway Sanji is in trouble. He is screwed both literally and figuratively.

[miniscapes333]

What Would Happen in a Secret Hookup? (18+)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;) 👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

There’s a tension in the air long before it happens, an unspoken understanding that this is something neither of you should be indulging in, yet neither of you can resist. It’s the kind of connection that simmers beneath the surface, unacknowledged in daylight but undeniable in the quiet pull of stolen glances, in the way your body reacts when they stand just a little too close. Maybe it’s the secrecy that makes it more intoxicating, the knowledge that the moment you give in, there’s no going back. And when it finally happens when lips find their way to skin, when hands grip a little harder than they should, when your breath hitches in the silence of a dimly lit room it feels forbidden in the best way possible. This isn’t just desire; it’s a slow unraveling, a surrender to something neither of you can put into words but both feel deep in your bones.

Every touch is deliberate, teasing, testing, pushing just enough to drive you insane before pulling back again. There’s a game being played here, one of control and restraint, of teasing glances and fleeting touches that leave behind a trail of heat. They want you to want it to need it and the worst part? You do. The way their fingertips barely ghost over your skin, the way their lips linger at your ear before pulling away it’s maddening. But they know exactly what they’re doing. They know how to make you chase, how to make you beg without saying a word. And when they finally give in? When the teasing shifts into something deeper, more desperate, more consuming? It’s slow and deliberate, drawing every moment out like they want to memorize the way your body reacts, like they want to stretch this secret pleasure for as long as possible.

But the moment never truly belongs to you. No matter how intoxicating it feels, no matter how much you lose yourself in their touch, there’s always something lingering beneath the surface a knowing that this moment is fleeting, that it exists in the space between what’s real and what’s hidden. Maybe that’s what makes it so irresistible. It’s the kind of secret that lingers on your skin long after they’re gone, the kind that leaves you wondering if it was ever meant to be more. And yet, even as you pull away, breathless and wrecked, you know deep down: this isn’t the last time. The way they look at you before they go the way their fingers graze yours just a second longer than necessary it’s a silent promise. A secret never stays buried for long. And this? This is far from over.

PILE 2

There’s something inevitable about this, something magnetic and unstoppable, like the moment before a storm breaks heavy, charged, humming with tension that neither of you can ignore. You both feel it long before you act on it, that slow, smoldering buildup that stretches through glances held too long, through the way their touch lingers just a little longer than necessary, through the unspoken understanding that this whatever this is was never meant to be harmless. It starts in the way they look at you, in the way their body moves toward yours without hesitation, as if the universe itself is pushing you together. And once that last thread of restraint snaps? There’s no stopping it. Their hands are firm, possessive, tracing the shape of your body like they’ve been waiting for this, like they want to memorize every single inch of you.

Every movement is purposeful, each touch sending a slow burn through your skin, as if they’re savoring the moment relishing the way your body reacts to them, the way your breath shudders when their lips graze over your pulse, the way your fingers clutch at them when they press in just the right way. They take their time with you, teasing, tasting, mapping every sensation like they’re determined to master it, to draw out every sigh, every sharp inhale. But there’s also an urgency here, an unrestrained hunger simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any second. And when it does when control finally shatters and desire takes overit’s nothing short of devastating. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. It’s rough, desperate, consuming. The way they pull you closer, the way their grip tightens, the way their breath fans hot against your skin it’s a collision, a force of nature neither of you can resist.

But the aftermath? That’s where it lingers. The air is thick with the scent of heat and want, skin flushed, breath still ragged. And yet, even as you lay there, fingers tracing absent patterns against each other’s skin, there’s a knowing between yousomething deeper than just lust, something neither of you are willing to put into words. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this was exactly what you both needed. But one thing is certain: no matter how much you try to convince yourselves otherwise, this won’t be the last time. The way they look at you, the way your body still burns from their touch? Some things were never meant to be a one-time thing.

PILE 3

It starts with restraint, but it’s the kind that only makes the tension even more unbearable the kind that coils deep, winding tighter with every passing second. There’s something unreadable in their eyes as they watch you, something dark and knowing, like they’ve already played this out in their mind a hundred times before actually reaching for you. And when they do when their fingers finally skim your skin, tracing, testing, tempting you feel it down to your bones. There’s patience here, but it’s the wicked kind. The kind that makes you wait, that teases with whispered words, with lips that barely touch, with the heat of their body just close enough to drive you mad. It’s a game, one they play well, and they enjoy watching you unravel under their touch, under their deliberate pace.

But the second you push back, the second you let them know you’re not just going to take this passively that’s when the fire ignites. The restraint shatters, giving way to raw, unfiltered hunger. Their hands are on you like they can’t help themselves, gripping, pulling, claiming. Everything about this is deep and all-consuming the way their breath mingles with yours, the way their touch turns urgent, the way your bodies fit together like they were always meant to. The need is relentless, a desperate, fevered craving neither of you want to fight anymore. It’s fast, it’s heated, it’s pure, unadulterated passion like the kind you don’t just feel, but the kind that lingers, that seeps into your skin, that leaves you breathless and aching long after it’s over.

And when the fire finally dies down, when the tension finally gives way to the slow, satisfied stillness after, there’s something else that remains. It’s not just lust, not just desire it’s something sweeter, something softer, something dangerous in its own right. Because this wasn’t just physical, and you both know it. The way they touch you now gentler, lingering, almost reverentn tells you that this was more than just a secret hookup. It was a release, yes, but it was also a connection, an unspoken admission that neither of you can take back. And maybe that’s the most dangerous part of all. Because if this was supposed to be a one-time thing, then why does it feel like you’ll both be finding excuses to do it again?

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