#something like this shouldn't need to be said

[stylesispunk]

Blind faith | Series

priest!joel miller x nightclub dancer!reader

Synopsis: Series coming soon...

dividers by @/saradika-graphics 💌

Joel found you on a quiet evening when the chapel was empty, save for the flickering candlelight and the faint scent of incense clinging to the air. You were curled up on one of the wooden pews, arms folded beneath your head, chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep.

He cleared his throat, but you didn’t stir. He hesitated before reaching out, tapping your shoulder. “Miss?” His voice came softer than he expected. “You can’t sleep here.”

"Father, do you always wake up strangers like this?"

Your voice was thick with sleep, eyes blinking against the dim glow of the chapel’s candlelight. The air smelled of old wood, wax, and something faintly metallic, like rain on stone. You looked young like this, your face soft, but Joel knew better. You shouldn't be older than thirty.

"You can’t sleep here," he repeated.

Joel stood over you, stiff-backed, his fingers still hovering near your shoulder from where he’d tapped you awake. He shouldn’t have noticed the way your legs stretched across the pew, the way your blouse—too sheer for a place like this, shifted as you moved, leaving no place to imagination.

"Didn’t know God locked His doors at night," you mused, rubbing at your eyes.

Joel exhaled sharply. Lord, give me patience.

"This isn’t a shelter," he said. "If you need a place—"

"I'm not homeless" Your tone was firm, final. But there was something else in your voice too, something he couldn’t quite place, but it hinted sadness.

The world outside was changing. Women weren’t quiet anymore. They weren’t soft in the way people in towns like this expected them to be. And yet, there was something about you that didn’t fit the mold of rebellion either. You weren’t a girl searching for trouble. You were a woman who had already met it.

"I just got into town," you admitted after a beat, glancing toward the stained-glass windows, dark now with the night. "Didn’t know where else to go."

Joel studied you, his chest tightening. "Are you in trouble?"

A small, humorless laugh left you. "Depends on what you call trouble."

Silence filled the chapel, thick and unmoving. The rain had stopped, leaving only the distant hum of the highway beyond the hills.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said finally. But his voice had lost its authority, had softened just enough that he felt the weight of it settle in his own bones.

Because the longer he stood there, the clearer it became.

You weren’t just a woman passing through.

You were trouble to his faith.

And trouble, he knew, never left quietly.

And worse, he couldn’t ignore the way, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if devotion could save him.

warnings: age gap, religious conflict, crisis of faith, temptation, forbidden attraction, forbidden romance, eventual smut social expectations, night life themes, contrast between joel's and your world.

the story is set during the 70s.

masterlist in progress...

coming soon...

please, tell me if you want to be added to the taglist 💌

[inkedinshadows]

The Value of Love

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

A/N: Thank you @batboyslutt for this request! I had so many different ideas for it, but unfortunately I could choose only one. I hope you enjoy it! 🫶🏻 and sorry for posting it later than usual, but I'm writing these day by day

Prompts: "We shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong." + "Why can't you just admit the truth?" + angst + smut + forbidden romance because of Rhys

Warnings: smut, p in v, creampie, bit of miscommunication, arguments

Word count: 1.5k

Azriel’s kisses grew more insistent as his mouth trailed down to your neck, nipping at the soft skin there. Your eyes were closed, your hands tangled in his hair, sliding down his back, holding onto him like you never wanted to let go.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he mumbled against your skin, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t even lift his head from the crook of your neck. “This is wrong.”

So he’d said—multiple times already.

You rolled your eyes. “Azriel,” you groaned. You cupped his cheeks and forced him to meet your gaze. “If you say that one more time while you’re balls-deep inside me, I am going to leave. Is that clear?”

Azriel’s hips faltered mid-thrust, then stilled, though he didn’t pull out. His breath was ragged, his eyes wide, his hair thoroughly mussed from your fingers running through it.

For a moment, you just stared at each other.

It was an argument you’d had more than once before, and you knew this wouldn’t be the last time. But for him to bring it up during sex? That, you would not stand for.

Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He lowered his head to rest his forehead on your chest, his breath warm against your flushed skin. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You sighed. Careful not to brush against his slumped wings, you wrapped your arms around him and tugged him closer.

“Let’s not talk about this right now,” you murmured. These were some of the last few moments you’d have together before he left for the continent, and you had no intention of wasting them on the same old conversation. “I think we were in the middle of something.”

Azriel lifted his head to look at you, gratitude flickering in his gaze before a smirk bloomed on his beautiful face. “Yes, we were.”

He rolled his hips once, driving himself deeper inside you, and you gasped softly. From there, it was easy to forget the last couple of minutes and focus on nothing but each other.

Azriel resumed his movements, thrusting into you with slow, deep strokes that drew groans from both of you. Each sound was swallowed by a kiss—lips and tongues eager to meet, hands wandering across hard planes and soft curves. Your bodies moved together as if they were made for this, as if you and he were the only beings in the whole world and nothing else mattered.

Pleasure coiled tight in your core, ready to snap with each deliberate thrust. A whispered plea was all Azriel needed to pick up the pace. He brushed his lips up your jaw to your ear, murmuring quiet encouragements and tender words that made your heart swell.

With a breathy moan, you squirmed beneath him, fingers digging into the muscles of his arms as pleasure overwhelmed you. Azriel was close behind you, your release tipping him over the edge as well. He rocked his hips a few more times before spilling himself inside you, holding himself there for a moment, panting against your ear as you both slowly came down from your high.

You turned your head to capture his lips in another kiss, trying to convey everything you felt for him through that simple gesture—the affection, the desire, the emotions you still hadn’t voiced aloud.

Azriel kissed you back, pressing you into the mattress before rolling onto his side. He opened his arms, and you immediately snuggled closer, curling up against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, and for a few moments, you simply lay there, basking in the quiet afterglow.

But as the minutes ticked by and the lingering passion faded, his words crept back into your mind. You tried to push them away, to focus on the steady rise and fall of his chest and the lazy strokes of his hand along your back, but they refused to leave.

You hesitated briefly before speaking, your voice quiet. “Why can’t you just admit the truth?”

He frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just…” You searched for the right words, trying not to sound too confrontational. “You always say you don’t want my brother to know because he’s very protective of me, but I think there’s more to it.”

Azriel hummed, seemingly unconvinced. “And what do you think it is, then?”

“I think you’re scared,” you admitted. “Scared of how he’d react if he found out. That he’d tell you you don’t deserve to be with me and that I should find someone else.”

His hand stilled where it had been tracing slow circles on your hip. His expression was unreadable, his golden-brown eyes fixed on you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he pulled away. Sitting up against the headboard, his wings stretched wide behind him, casting shadows over the sheets.

“That’s not what this is about,” he said. His voice was firm, but his gaze didn’t meet yours.

You pushed yourself up as well, keeping your eyes on him. You had thought about this for a long time now—how your brother would react if he knew about your relationship. You weren’t naive. You knew Rhys would be furious at first. But you also knew he would come around and realize that his little sister was grown, that he couldn’t keep males away from her forever. That she could choose for herself who to love.

“Az,” you called, taking his hand in yours. You waited until he finally looked at you again before you continued. “I know telling him might seem terrifying, but Rhys would be happy to know it’s you. You’re his best friend, and I’m his sister. If we make each other happy, why would he be against it?”

Azriel shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

That excuse again. It’s not that simple. You make it sound so easy. You don’t understand. He wouldn’t understand. Always the same words, but never a real answer.

And you were growing tired of it.

Frustration flared hot in your chest as you pulled your hand back.

“Then explain it to me,” you demanded. Your tone was sharper than intended, but you didn’t particularly care anymore. “Because from where I’m standing, the only other explanation is that you value Rhysand’s friendship more than… whatever this thing between us is.”

Azriel’s brow knitted together, his expression torn between confusion and disbelief. “You know what this is, princess. You know I love you.”

“So you’ve said.”

The words hung heavy in the air. You saw the flicker of hurt in his hazel eyes, and your chest ached in response. But you didn’t take it back. You couldn’t.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was quieter now, cautious.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze and push the words out. “It means that saying the words isn’t enough. You have to show me. And right now, you’re not doing a great job.”

Azriel inhaled sharply, as if stung. “At least I love you.”

The moment the words left his lips, regret flashed across his face. But it was too late.

They landed like a blade to the chest, slicing through the last thread of your patience.

“Y/N, I—”

You batted away the hand he reached toward you and instead got up to collect the clothes scattered on the floor.

“I do love you, Azriel,” you said, voice tight as you yanked your underwear back on. “But do you want to know why I never told you?”

He looked startled by your declaration at first, but he quickly nodded when he realized you were waiting for an answer.

“Because I didn’t want to get hurt,” you admitted, fingers swiftly buttoning up your shirt. "Because you want to keep this a secret, while I think that what we have is worth so much more than just a few stolen moments in the dark.” You slipped into your trousers, your eyes still on him. “Because I’m tired of hiding from my friends and family just because you’re scared of how my brother might react.”

Azriel said nothing. His jaw was tense, his gaze locked onto the crumpled blankets, refusing to meet your gaze.

Despite the ache in your heart, you stepped back toward the door.

“I won’t hide anymore,” you went on. “Not when it makes you miserable, but you refuse to change it. It's making me miserable too.” You let out a deep breath. “You have to make a choice, Azriel. But if you really love me like you say you do… then it should be an easy one.”

Your fingers curled around the doorknob. Still, he didn’t look at you—didn’t try to talk you out of it, to convince you to stay, to stop you from leaving.

Your blood boiled in your veins.

“Good luck on your mission,” you spat, slamming the door behind you.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[bloodstainedsapphic]

becoming ellie williams' personal nurse was absolutely not part of your grand plan. in fact, being ellie williams’ anything hadn’t crossed your mind until an unexpected run-in left you the only one available to patch her up after a rough patrol. you’d spoken fewer than ten times before that, but after that night, ellie unilaterally decided you were the only person allowed to help her when she got injured. you didn’t fuss as much as maria, or dina, or anyone else—and that was enough for her. or at least, that’s what she claimed. it certainly didn’t hurt that you were cute.

that's how you found yourself falling into a routine—ellie 'just happening' to show up at your door, flashing those worn green eyes and grumbling about how "it's not that bad" to garner enough pity until you inevitably caved and fixed her up, sparing her yet another lecture from maria.

tonight was no different. she lingered outside, shifting her weight like she was debating whether to knock. but since this had become clockwork, you were already pulling the door open, and she shuffled inside uttering a, “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

you sighed, already moving to nab your ever-growing stash of first-aid supplies as she dropped into your desk chair. ellie had tried to clean herself up beforehand, but it was fruitless—her green jacket, the one now being hastily shrugged off, had been covering the worst of it. a deep gash on her arm, the lingering traces of a nosebleed, fresh cuts along her cheek. she’d been through hell and back.

"ellie," your voice carried a warning as you approached, reaching out to cautiously inspect her wounded arm. "this isn't just some scrape." ellie exhaled sharply through her nose, taking the accosting while settling in the chair she'd visited many times already. "it's nothing. i don't want maria finding out and pulling me off patrols."

your lips pressed into a thin line, but you didn't protest further. you knew how much patrol meant to her—how she needed it. how ellie seemed to rely on it to feel like she provided something useful to jackson. so instead, you got to work, gently cleaning the cuts along her forearm. ellie winced as the antiseptic hit raw skin, her fingers twitching against her thigh. unfortunately, the cut had grazed her tatted arm. you made a valiant effort to be delicate enough to mend the cut without disturbing the tattoo—luckily, it had missed the chemical burn ellie said she'd gotten on that arm years ago.

"oh, stop whining," you chided over her complaints. "shouldn't you be used to the pain by now? little masochist. and what's with you aiming for this poor arm so much? you've got two to work with, you know.” ellie scoffed at your chastizing, biting the inside of her cheek as her expression shifted to annoyance but not full offense. "right, lemme plan my injuries better next time."

you dabbed at a shallow abrasion beneath her cheekbone. ellie's eyes flickered up, trying to capture yours, but you wouldn't budge from the injury. she bit her crimson-stained lip, like she was weighing her next words wisely. "you keep patching me up, though. makes me wonder... i mean, i dunno..." ellie stilted her delivery, partly out of nerves, partly to grab your attention. "maybe you like seein' me all banged up," her tone took on a pitchy lilt as she kept peeking up at you.

the way she said it—less of a tease, a tad second-guessing, trying to dare a reaction out of you—made your stomach do something stupid.

"a better patient would stop causing such a distraction," you shot back, deliberately avoiding her gaze while keeping with the 'strict nurse' facade. you couldn't suppress a hint of a smirk though, briefly wiping your mouth to try and shield the small break over her nervous attempt at flirting. you just hated how right she was—no one was forcing you to do this, to put up with her maddening stubbornness and save her hide time and time again. all ellie had to do was bat those ridiculously pretty greens, and your defenses crumbled.

ellie huffed, pleased with your accidental admission but now more determined to coax more from you. she shifted slightly—and that's when you felt it. the light press of her fingers against the dip of your waist, like she had just meant to steady herself but forgot to pull away. her fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your shirt, sending a shiver up your spine. you said nothing, pretending not to notice. maybe she hadn't even meant to. you'd both insist, later, it was simply the sting of the antiseptic anyway, as if she hadn't weathered worse injuries before. neither of you moved.

ellie couldn't disguise her beaming when your strict charade allowed the gesture. she swallowed, like she was trying to decide whether to try her luck. her fingers tapped your side, hesitant.

“i think you're helping me all the time 'cause you've got a soft spot for me."

your breath hitched, warmth creeping up your neck, but you weren't about to let her win that easily. with a little head shake, you willfully regained your composure and lightly patted ellie's uninjured cheek before schooling your expression. "hush. you're being disorderly. i can't fix you up with all this blabbering."

ellie let out an exaggerated hiss, scrunching her eyes shut dramatically. your stomach clenched in brief panic, helper mode reigniting—until you realized she was full of shit, twisting her head like she'd been mortally wounded when, in reality, you had barely touched her.

"you're impossible," you muttered, smacking her good arm lightly in playful retaliation. "your life is in my hands. don't forget that." ellie leaned forward just enough to close the space between you, her voice dropping. "yeah, yeah, and every time i show up like this, i'm choosing to put my trust in you."

she wavered briefly, then added, softer still—only brave enough to say it now because she was already committed to the bit—"and that’s also why you won’t look at me."

you froze, and the second you met her gaze, it was over—long lashes framing those round green eyes, a smattering of freckles, some loose auburn strands that had escaped her barely-held-together bun sticking to her skin from the leftover sweat of patrol. with scraped skin and blood-streaked face, ellie was a proper mess—and yet, here you were, fighting every aching urge screaming at you to throw yourself on top of her.

you swallowed hard. the unassuming, bashful, loserish ellie was nowhere to be found. replaced by an ellie probably still riding the adrenaline of her close call with a horde of infected earlier, caring a little less about the consequences of her words and even further fueled by your easily cracked stoicism.

ellie seized your defeated, flustered silence to keep going. "also, as my nurse, i'm surprised you don't know the best cure for any injury."

you inhaled to brace for whatever nonsense was about to come out of her mouth. "oh, yeah? what's that?"

".....a kiss."

a drawn-out groan escaped you. "jesus," you muttered, cheeks burning. but fine—just this once. you weren't giving in completely, but you leaned in, pressing a fleeting peck to the tip of her nose.

the way ellie's face immediately split into a stupidly giddy grin was almost worth it. almost. her whole expression flushed a rosy pink, too.

"oh, on the nose? that barely counts," ellie teased, her voice dipping into something softer, more expectant. definitely hoping she hadn’t pushed her luck too much.

"deal with it, williams," you murmured, but your mind was already betraying you.

despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what it would be like if you really gave in. if you disregarded all medical safety and climbed into her lap and kissed her senseless, letting your hands explore each other in desperation and recklessly savoring the taste of metallic red left on her soft lips.

snapping yourself from that less-than-holy thought, you deflected under the guise of needing to retrieve more supplies for another small cut you had overlooked.

when you came back, ellie was still watching you, something unreadable in her expression. you hesitated for a moment, then finally gave her a little glimmer of hope to cling to.

"tell you what," you started. "don't be an idiot—which i know is hard for you—and let everything heal," you let the jab sit for a second to build suspense, "and i’ll grant you the other half of that kiss."

ellie's smile widened triumphantly, though her posture was beginning to laze as exhaustion from the day's chaos caught up with her.

"anything for the nurse."

"yeah, yeah. now hold still so i can finish fixing you up."

and, for once, ellie williams actually listened. pic creds @/elliesgalaxy

[minorlyatfault]

jason todd didn't like feeling weak. not physically, not emotionally, not in any way. he was red hood, the second robin, the guy who crawled his way out of the grave, the guy who made criminals run the second they saw him. he wasn't fragile.

at least, that's what he told himself.

but you knew better.

you saw the way his hands shook sometimes, how he clenched his jaw so tight it looked like it hurt. how he acted like he was fine, always fine, even when he was bleeding right in front of you.

like tonight.

he got hit▰bullet to the side, not deep enough to be life threatening, but deep enough that he couldn't just ignore it. he tried to, though.

"i don’t need help," he muttered, struggling to take off his jacket without wincing.

"jason, you’re literally bleeding on my floor."

"i’ve had worse."

"that’s not the point." you crossed your arms. "sit down. let me fix it."

he sighed like you were asking him to do something absurd, but he sat. that alone told you everything.

you came back, first aid kit in hand & went to work on the wound while he sat there, way too tense.

“you don't have to do this," he muttered.

"i know."

his jaw tightened, but he didn't move away. you stitched him up carefully, your fingers brushing against his skin, & he hardly moved.

"you're not a burden, you know," you said after a minute.

he scoffed. "never said i was."

"you don't have to. i see it every time you push me away." you paused, looking up at him. "you don't have to be strong all the time, jason."

his eyes flickered. something in him hesitated, but he didn't let it break through.

"i hate this," he muttered.

"hate what?"

"feeling like this." he motioned at himself, at the bandages, at you sitting next to him. "weak."

you frowned. "jason, you're not weak."

"doesn't feel like it."

your chest felt tight. you reached for his hand, & he let you, just like he always did. but this time, it's different. that it's not just jason who you're holding, but the red hood as well.

"being strong doesn't mean doing everything alone," you said quietly. "sometimes it means letting people help."

he swallowed, his fingers twitching around yours. you’d held hands before, curled up on the couch, laced fingers absentmindedly.

but this was different. this was him holding on like he needed to.

& then, barely above a whisper, he said, "i don’t wanna do this alone."

you squeezed his hand. "you don’t have to."

he let out a shaky breath, nodded, & for the first time, he didn't just let you help▰he let himself believe he needed it. he let himself accept the fact that he indeed, needs it.

you finally got him into bed, though he agrued about not being tired. but the second his head hit the pillow, you could tell▰he was exhausted.

yet, he didn't sleep.

he just laid there, staring at the ceiling, breathing too controlled, too careful.

"you're thinking too much," you whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

he huffed. "i don't think that's possible."

you smiled. "wanna bet?"

he rolled onto his side, looking at you, with an unreadable expression. "what if i wake up in a panic again?"

"then i'll be here."

his brows furrowed. "you shouldn't have to deal with that."

"jason." you stroked your thumb over his cheek, soft(is what you thought when your hand came in contact with his soft cheek, & is what jason thought when his cheek came in contact with your soft hand.)

"loving you doesn't mean only staying for the easy parts. i want to be here. always."

he breathed slowly, like he was struggling to let himself believe you. maybe it would take time. but right now, he was here, letting you hold him, & that was enough.

he brought you closer still, his hand lying flat upon your waist, fingers just tight enough on the shirt to cling. "you're too good for me," he murmured against your skin.

"& you're an idiot," you whisper back.

a soft laugh rolled from him & lay warm across your collarbone. he drew a breath at last, uncoiling finally, his fingers tracing slow patterns on your back.

"thanks," he mutters after a while.

"for what?"

"for this. for staying."

you pressed a kiss to his forehead, holding him a little tighter. "like i said: always."

& this time, he let himself believe it.

© minorlyatfault, 2025

[goatgoesmbe]

Y/N: Torturing König for information

König: Oh... that's quite nice

Y/N: Why can't anyone take me seriously. Fuck this, Ghost can deal with this

König: NO please- I can be normal about this!

Y/N: Can you.

König: ...no

Y/N: GHOST! COME HERE!

👀👀👀👀

Alright now, hear me out anon- i hope you don't mind me turning this to 3k words porn.

big thamks to my mommy-auntie (montie?) @ahobaka-trash for beta-reading

KonigxReader + GhostxReader tw : edging, implied torture, hostage interrogation, blueballing, open ending

Ghost wasn't dumb. He knew exactly what was going on in that giant colonel's head, ever since he saw you innocently beaming at them, gesturing at your catch, a hostage.

Konig was his name, a fucking colonel. No offense to you luv, but from how everyone glanced at each other, no one believed you could take down that hunk of a mountain.

But a hostage is a hostage.

"GHOST! COME HERE!" he heard you yell. After a nod from Price, he then stepped inside the interrogation room.

You were not assigned to interrogate him at first. But Konig is tight-lipped, barely flinching at any pain, and made no sound except when he demanded your presence.

Dark brown iris lazily trailed to their hostage, who was now shirtless- well except for the shirt on his head which they couldn't get off him. It was like the colonel simply let them do what they wanted, but put his foot down when they overstepped his boundaries. Like he was in charge instead of them.

Ghost took in the cuts and bruises. They definitely looked painful, unpleasant. But from what he heard when he stood behind the one-way mirror, the soft moans and heavy breathing, it seemed like it was doing the opposite.

bastard's fucked in the 'ead, the lieutenant thought.

The usual method of torture wouldn't work on him. Ghost needed to improvise.

He said nothing and simply stood behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear "Do you trust me, luv?".

You looked back, big doe eyes blinked at him in confusion. That innocent look on your face always made him question how the fuck did you survive working alongside them all this time.

"Um.. yes-?" a gasp slipped out your lips before you could say more, gloved hand fisting your hair and tugging back towards him. You went rigid like a kitten held by the scruff.

"Yeah?" He asked again in a low purr, the other hand trailing up your torso to squeeze your tit.

You gasped again, staying still as your eyes immediately looked at the large mirror where you knew the others were watching. Expecting anyone to say something.

Silence 

Like they were waiting for your greenlight. No interruption from your captain, nor the hostage. It was all up to you what's gonna happen next.

Silence, except for faint panting from the colonel tied up in front of you.

You nodded.

And instantly, your top was ripped off of you.

You didn't get enough time to react to it, your pants got yanked down, now pooling around your knees before slowly falling to your ankles.

"Y'gonna talk now?" Ghost asked, slipping into that persona he always used in this situation. Straight to the business and no-nonsense, nonchalant about his colleague who was now half naked in his grip.

You could see Konig's eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his breathing was heavier than before. Then, his blown pupils glanced up at Ghost while he tilted his head as if he was taunting him.

The grip on your hair tightened and you were pushed forward just enough for Konig to lean in and tug your bra down with his teeth.

Your lips parted and you feel that clench. Mind and body against each other. You shouldn't be enjoying this, a voice in your head said, scolding you for getting your panties wet.

With your tits now exposed to the cold air of the interrogation room, your nipples perked invitingly. You held your breath when your hostage opened his mouth to have a taste, only for it to be denied when you got yanked back.

"Well?" Said a voice beside your ear, though it was directed at the man in front of you who stared unblinking at your lieutenant before trailing down to your breasts which were now being fondled by two gloved hands.

"..What do you want to know?" The colonel said, sounding serious for the first time since you've met him.

"You work for Makarov?" The question was growled at him, yet your body reacted with a shiver and you couldn't help but whimper. Red flushed your cheeks, your eyes once again darting to the mirror.

Konig simply hummed in response, and you couldn't really tell if that was a yes or a no. Ghost seemed to have the same thought since he pinched your nipples hard and pulled. 

"Please-!" You yelped out a plea, not really knowing who it was directed to.

The cloth on the hostage's head shifted, he was licking his lips under the hood. "He is a client" he finally said. You let out a sigh of relief when Ghost loosened his hold but didn't let you go, massaging your breasts more softly as his fingers rubbed your nipples as an apology.

That was a big intel, Makarov is working together with Kortac. The colonel himself confirmed it, an enemy, not some unlucky passersby.

You tried your best to take all the information, you really did. But it was really hard with how your lieutenant fingers danced on the sensitive nubs.

"You were with ‘im?" Ghost asked. His voice is gruff yet steady compared to the colonel in front of you, like it's normal to use his coworker as an interrogation tool. To be honest, you are quite scared of what Ghost can do to you to make Konig talk.

And you're ashamed of yourself for how that fear brought heat to your core.

Konig didn't respond once again, a silent command for Ghost to do something. And you wondered who was really in charge here, definitely not you though.

Your train of thought was interrupted when a pair of strong arms hoisted you up, one leg raised until your knee was pressing against your chest while your other leg was left dangling. Despite the cotton panties covering your cunt, you still felt very exposed, being spread out in front of one of your enemies of all people.

A pathetic whine slipped out of your lips, which were swollen from you biting down on them previously. A thick finger rubbing between your folds through your panties. Slow yet firm, soaking  the cotton  even more.

"Were you with Makarov?" Ghost asked again, voice lowering an octave. Whether to intimidate or maybe he was just as affected by all this too.

"No" Konig responded shortly. His body shook slightly and you noticed how he tried to pull his hand out of the handcuffs behind the chair. Like he wanted to touch you, or maybe himself, from the obvious bulge in his pants.

You swallowed at the sight.

"D’you know where 'e is?" Your lieutenant asked as his finger kept rubbing you, trailing up to circle your clit through your panties which made you whine.

Konig stayed silent again. Like he didn’t want to interrupt the lewd voices you made as you slowly unraveled in your superior's hands.

Ghost clicked his tongue, feeling impatient but still played along with the game. His fingers trailed up to the waistband, trailing across the fabric slowly like he was taking his time appreciating the delicate panties before ripping it off and tossing it with your other torn garments.

Before you could have a chance to mourn the loss of your panties, two thick fingers rammed deep into your pussy. You could only squeal, throwing your head back against his shoulder. "Ah, ah, ah-" A gasping moan with each thrust aiming at your gspot.

"Where. is. Makarov?" Ghost growled, each word emphasized with a hard thrust that got you keening.

"Si- Ghost, please.." It took you a second to realize that was your own voice.

"Not up to me, sweet'eart" The lieutenant replied without taking his eyes off the hostage.

You panted, following his gaze to the colonel in front of you. His half-lidded eyes, pupils so wide with light blue outlining them, and if you focus past the wet squelching noises you can hear him breathing heavily.

"..Konig"

His whole body jerked at your plead. "Scheiße" You heard him hiss under his breath.

"I don't know, we only interacted through a third person or a call" He continued. With your mind all jumbled, you questioned for a second about who he was talking about, oh right Makarov, we're gathering intel on Makarov.

"Don’t even try lyin’" Ghost tutted and curled his fingers, pressing against that sweet spot that made you whine pathetically.

You heard Konig chuckle breathlessly. "Oh, i won't lie to this hübsche kleine schlampe. Don't want to break her heart" he shrugged.

Ghost held back from rolling his eyes and scoffed. "What’d 'e pay ya for, then?".

Expecting another silence, Ghost didn't wait for a response. Pushing you down on your knees before shoving your face onto the colonel's crotch. "Open" He whispered lowly in your ear, tilting your head just so, your lips pressing against the zipper on the hostage’s pants.

With your teeth, you tugged the zipper down. And your eyes widened when you saw his throbbing cock. You took in the veiny shaft, the pinkish tip glistening with precum under the dim lighting of the interrogation room. filthy git went full-on commando on his job.

"What’d 'e pay you to do?" Ghost asked once again as he pried your mouth open, a silent command for you to make good use it. Then you felt the colonel go rigid when you wrapped your lips around the tip.

"..Retrieving a package" The colonel answered as he tried to buck his hips, hoping to shove more of his dick into your mouth. You started to panic, you didn't know if you could take more. He was really big, too big. And that's something, since you've taken Ghost before.

"What's the package?" The lieutenant asked as he slowly pushed you down, forcing you to take more, not caring about your muffled noise.

You felt the tip nudging the back of your throat, your eyes tearing up and you whined around the girthy cock as Ghost kept urging you to keep going. This is how you're gonna die, choking on some enemy's dick.

"Verdammt- i don't know" You heard Konig say through gritted teeth when you felt your nose buried in a bush of hair, somehow managing to take all of him. Looking so pliant and pathetic, batting your wet eyelashes up at him, as you focused on remembering how to breathe.

Ghost jerked your head back, and forward, again and again. Fucking your throat with the colonel's dick, hard without mercy.

"Don't give me that bullshit" Growled the lieutenant. Though, he didn't expect a response, letting the hostage lose himself in the wetness of your mouth.

Before you were  pulled back by your hair, letting go of the cock with a wet pop. And you heard Konig whimper, his cock twitched violently, robbed from his release.

It took a while for Konig to respond, trying to regain his control back from the pleasure, steadying his breathing before speaking. "I really don't know, they told me nothing, I asked nothing. We only care about finishing the job" He said. Though, you can see his eyes glint mischievously. He was keeping something from them and felt in control because of it. Taunting your lieutenant to give him more of you in exchange for that.

It seemed that  Ghost thought of the same thing since he yanked you back up and forward. You thought he wanted you to sit on the colonel's lap and you were going to, but then he held your hip in one hand while the other still had a fistful of your hair.

Then he shifted you above Konig’s lap, until your pussy lips are rubbing against the tip of the colonel's cock. Taunting back.

"Try again" The lieutenant's voice rumbled. You didn't know if you imagined it but you could hear him smirk.

The colonel was holding back from bucking his hips. Not wanting to give in just yet so he could get more. Just a bit more. "As I said, I have no clue" He shrugged, the smugness in his voice is more obvious now.

Even though you had expected it, you still gasped. It was just the tip, but the stretch made you exhale shakily. Your legs trembled slightly, and you were sure without Ghost holding you up you would definitely fall onto the colonel's lap.

Konig sighed, whether it was in exasperation or pleasure you didn't know. Probably both.

"Missiles.. possibly nukes," The colonel said without being asked. "Overheard them talking about it, though my Russian is rusty so take it with a grain of salt" he continued.

Ghost hummed into your ear, gloved hand reaching down to toy with your sensitive clit. It was as if he was rewarding you for making the hostage give them such valuable intel.

Though, he didn't reward the man who gave the intel. Making him suffer by making you clench around his tip, not letting him sink even another millimeter of his dick inside  you.

"Where are they stored?" The lieutenant asked, lips against your ear, hot breath making you squirm. There's an itch in your core, this was torture for you too.

"Stop movin’, princess, unless ya want me to stop 'ere" He whispered lowly so only you could hear it, stopping the circling motion on your clit to pinch so hard it almost hurt. It's too much, but also not enough. And now you're dripping down an enemy's dick like a slut.

"I can pinpoint the location on your map" Their hostage hissed, his voice was a bit shaky and those bright blue iris locked in at the spot you and him were connected. "Untie me" He added, his eyes now locked onto your lieutenant's.

Ghost scoffed condescendingly. "Ain’t 'appenin'" he said.

You heard the colonel let out a dry chuckle. "Worth a shot" he murmured to himself.

"Just shoot it" Ghost demanded whilst moving his fingers on your clit. Flicking with his thumb, sliding two fingers up and down whilst squeezing the sensitive nub between them, massaging the top agonizingly slow, making tiny circles.

"Go on, tell 'im, luv" Deep voice purred sultry into your ear and you cried out when he lifted the hood of your clit and roughly rubbed the exposed underside. You started shaking, your back painfully arching with the overwhelming pleasure. Too much.

"Konig.. Konig-" You pleaded pathetically, squeezing the head of his cock inside of you. More of your slick dripping down his shaft.

Konig groaned, both at the sinful sight and the way your sweet voice sang his name. "Why should I? I don’t need you slitting my throat once youget all the information" He sneered.

A gloved hand slapped your clit and you squealed. "Please, please-" You whined. Doe eyes all teary as you locked eyes with the hostage.

You could feel Konig jerk beneath you as your channel clenched uncontrollably around his tip.

"We won't" Ghost responded. "Be daft of us to get rid of a bloody colonel just for this shite, and you know it" He added.

Konig snorted in response but said nothing.

"So?" Your lieutenant asked once again, pushing for an answer.

"I assume you would keep me here to exchange for something with Kortac, it's rude to keep your guest tied, no?" Konig said mockingly, making  Ghost narrow his eyes.

"You ain't no bloody guest" Ghost growled and pinched your clit again, tugging it painfully while his other hand pulled at your nipple in a similar way, making you go crossed-eyed. "Now, spit it out" The lieutenant added, his voice was booming compared to your little pleas "pleasepleaseplease".

The colonel sighed, like he took pity on you. "Abandoned hospital at the north" He finally said. And you could just kiss him for making Ghost let go of your sensitive nubs and rub them in a much gentler manner.

"Thought that was Al Qatala's base now" Ghost mumbled to himself, a bit too casually like he didn't just try to ruin you.

"Yeah, the Russian made a transaction with them," Konig said. Blue eyes trailing back to you, observing the state you were in.

"Now, I told you everything you need.." The colonel purred, eyes crinkling which made you think that he was smiling at you underneath the hood.

And with that, all hell let loose.

The lieutenant's hands on you started rubbing with the intention of making you come. He let go of your nipple and went south, tracing the rim of your entrance where you still have the head of the colonel's cock inside.

Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slipping inside you again. Not caring that you were still stretched open.

Eyes crossed, toes curled. Panting and whining like a little puppy when you felt those fingers go deeper, rubbing your gspot at the same pace as his other hand on your clit.

Your thighs were trembling, your moans getting higher and higher as your climax threatened to wash over you. And then, Ghost didn't stop Konig from thrusting up this time and you lost it.

Wave after wave of pleasure, your cunt clenched uncontrollably around Konig, moaning like a whore.

Just when you wanted to grind down for more stimulation, Ghost lifted you by the back of your knees. Konig let out a string of curses in German, watching the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

"..Simon" You whimpered, teary eyes looking up at him with a pout. You didn't have the capacity to care about saying his real name in front of an enemy after such orgasm. Looks like your usage for interrogations is finally over – and you are not sure whether you were useful or just looked pretty enough.

"Don't worry princess" He murmured, shifting his hold to lift you in a bridal carry. "You've been good, we'll reward you" And with that, he kissed your forehead. You didn't see the way his eyes shifted to the one-way mirror where the rest of the team had been watching from behind it.

You could only let him carry you out of the interrogation room, heavy steps from his boots filling the silence.

And Konig?

"Verdammte Hurensöhne!" Raspy voice boomed behind you before it was muffled as Ghost closed the door behind him. Not caring that the hostage still had his hard and throbbing cock out, wet from your slick and his own precum.

But of course, if you took pity on him and if you asked everyone nicely, maybe  they would let him watch- or since the interrogation had been more than successful, he could join. Letting him enjoy their leftover, to fuck everyone’s cum deeper inside your cunt.

Just say the word.

...

taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @midwesternwitchery,

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (eleven)

oscar piastri - "please, mark me."

tags: smut/pwp, bruises & hickies, jealous!oscar, modified doggy style, body worship & dirty talk, one spank, backshots

sinful sentences catalogue

jealousy was an emotion that oscar piastri felt was childish. to be envious of someone else's accomplishments was just an excuse for someone not to work on themself.

that didn't mean that oscar never felt the familiar pang from time to time. when lando won a grand prix was an example of when the feeling tugged in his gut. but that was nothing compared to the ice cold that ran through his body as he felt a pang of jealousy through him at the sight of you and carlos speaking.

you, dressed in mclaren orange, shouldn't be talking to the likes of sainz. you should be tucked away against oscar and away from the likes of carlos. it could be seen as petty, but when you giggled at one of carlos' comments. he knew that he wanted to mark you.

oscar would be the gentleman, he always was, and guide you away from the ferrari driver. hand on your lower back as he was all smiles with you. but when his gaze locked with carlos, his smile became tinted with something else. something a little more possessive. a warning gaze to the other driver. do not touch what isn't yours. only to have his look torn away when you took him by the cheek and pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

you giggled before you pulled away from oscar, you took him by the hand and led him back towards the mclaren side of the garage. back into his territory. where you should be. not letting the spanish driver chat you up like you were on the market. everyone knew that you and oscar were together. but oscar guessed that carlos wasn't getting the memo. oscar let you kiss him again and again and again as you made your way further into the garage.

you fit against him so well. tucked under him like the wing of a bird. your kisses were soft and your lip gloss stuck to his cheek and left a little shine. you giggled and asked, "oscar, honey. your going to get lines before your thirty-five with that look on your face. it might even stay like that!" and lean in further to rub the scrunch in his eyebrows.

oscar smiled and kept an arm around you, "thank you, babe." then leaned in to kiss you on the mouth. he needed to stay focus for the upcoming qualifiers, he didn't need the green eyed monster impacting his performance. with one final kiss he got ready for qualifier.

you weren't stupid, you didn't get your degree in engineering because you were an idiot. and even though you were oscar's cute girlfriend, a darling for the fans, you were keen. had to be to be with a driver of oscar's caliber. while your chat with carlos was friendly, sharing banter before the qualifier, you knew that oscar was seeing green. the relationship between the two of them was tense. you let him escort you back to where you needed to be, gave him kisses and let him wrap himself up in you.

but you knew to sate the jealousy, you'd need to do more than press glossed lips against his warmed cheek. so when you were back in the hotel, you added a little sway to your hips as you went to the bedroom and asked oscar one little question, "oscar, honey. can i have one thing tonight?"

"anything." always the giver.

you looked over your shoulder and with a small flutter of your lashes, you said rather than asked, "please, mark me." and you had never seen oscar trip over himself to get to you as he did in that moment. because who was he to deny his girlfriend anything.

you giggled when you entered the bedroom and he wrapped his strong arms around you. his grip tight as he held you and kissed your neck. your giggles were replaced with gasps when he started to bite at the column of your neck. your hands held onto his forearms and you laughed a little at the feeling. his grip was slightly possessive, but you loved it. you loved him. there was something about him that kept you achy for more. so of course it was only fair that you sated the lingering jealousy in his core.

he started to leave marks, the kind of marks that you knew very little make-up would fix. but it was hot, a certain eroticism that made your core soaked. his teeth nibbled into your skin and made your body grow hot.

"how does that feel, beautiful?" he asked with with a strong hint of want in his tone. he couldn't help it. you shakily exhaled, unable to form words as he continued to mark you up, "you asked for this, you asked to be marked up by me." he pressed himself against your back and licked his lips before he continued to suck and mark your skin.

you held onto him tighter and felt the leap in your chest from the feeling. it was painful, but you loved it. to feel marked by him,owned in a certain way. even though the two of you had a partnership of equals, there was something a little arousing by the feeling of him acting some possessive over you.

"let's get undressed." you said softly and he let you go enough for you to have enough room to get out of the mclaren shirt you wore. the pretty little thing you wore around the paddock, it was cute. but it would look better on the floor. oscar eyed you up and down as you undressed. you looked over your shoulder at him as you got your jeans off and winked at him, "i bet carlos wouldn't know how to handle me. at least not in the way you do." then yelped when oscar pushed you down over the bed with your ass up and your feet still on the carpeted floor.

he eyed your cotton panties, white with roses on them. you couldn't be any sweeter. he licked his lips and ran his hand down your back which made you shudder. he replied, "of course he couldn't. please don't talk about him in the bedroom."

you giggled a little, "of course." you couldn't help but get wet at the feeling. you moaned when he pulled your panties down then started to work at the waistband of his jogger. you moaned louder when he slapped you across the behind which only made you excited.

"someone's wet." he chuckled as he rubbed his finger up against your slit, capturing a bit of wetness. he bought it to his lips and chuckled, "dirty girl." and you shuddered.

oscar got his clothes off, occasionally teasing your pussy with his fingers before he lined his bare cock up with your perfectly. he rubbed it against you teasingly and watched you squirm. it was hot, it riled something up in him until he sank down into you. letting himself feel all of you, every inch of heated pussy. you were soaked, letting your wetness coat his cock.

"that it's, fuck, baby." he shuddered as he felt all your warmth. all your love for him. carlos could never compete, not when oscar's love for you when deep. a longing, a yearning he could never remove himself from. he loved you, and as he held you hips as fucked you up against the mattress, his love took a physical manifestation.

"please, oscar." you said softly as the two of you moved against one another. the feeling was intense, there was a rawness to your passion that left your mind swimming as he held you by the hips and moved against you.

he swallowed back some of the pleasure as he moved against you. he admried your features as pleasure started to coil in your core. he kissed you on the center of your back. he held you by the back of your neck to keep you face down on the bed as he fucked you. it was hard for you, almost on your tippy toes to keep leveled with his cock.

it was cute to see you struggle a little, you were eager for him. that only made you more endearing as he held onto you soft hips and moved up against you. he felt the pleasure in his core as he worked his cock inside of you, letting you both feel the sweetness of passionate sex.

carolos sainz could eat his heart out.

you were not for him, only for oscar. your other half, and oscar loved that fact. you were all his, no one else's, no ferrari fool could steal you away from him. and it only made him press you further into the bed, his thrusts heavy which made you held onto the covers tightly under you.

"fuck."

oscar leaned forward and started to decorate your back with hot kisses, followed by more hickies. you wouldn't be wearing backless dresses for a good while now, not when your skin was tinted purple from the marks. it only excited him more.

as did you, as your nails dug into the covers and the sensation made your back arch, "ah, honey!"

"you feel right for me." he said softly, "you feel so right, every inch of you is perfect." he splayed a hand across your back and rocked up into you. his pace made your toes curl into the carpet under you as you tried to keep yourself upright thanks to the force of his movements.

"you feel amazing too." you said softly, "unlike anyone else. fuck, that feels good. you feel good, oscar. perfect for me." and then let out a sweet moan as he smacked your round behind once more, which you hard to admit made you fairly sexually excited. a rush through you as he moved his hips against your ass.

you were his girlfriend, the love of his life! you were beyond special in his eyes. there was no one else like you that he could ever meet. you were like the rarest mineral he could find in the dirt, something worth admiring. a treasure for him.

the two of you moved together as he fucked you over the bed. soon he wrapped his strong arms around you and moved himself up against you. his cock hit all the right places in you and he watched you struggle to take every inch. he was a bit bigger than average, but he knew more how to make you a whiny, panting mess for him.

you felt yourself grow needy for climax. the feeling was powerful as your back arched a little more as the pleasure coursed through you. you were sweaty and on the knife's edge. you whined into the covers as you let him continue to move up against you. his cock brushed up against all the right areas.

"that's it, that's it." he said softly, "you feel amazing." he held onto your middle a little tighter and continued to hit your sweet spots with each heavy thrust of his hips. his words were true as he fucked you.

"oscar. fuck, i'm close." you panted. there was no one else for you.

and there was no one else for him as he said, "perfect, cum for me, babe. make a mess of yourself." maybe his words were tinged slightly with possessiveness. but you couldn't help it, not when you sounded so beautiful with your cunt getting his entire length soaked. it was hot, erotic in a sense that it only drove him to want to pleasure you further.

"oscar." you whined as you came around his cock. his thrusts continued and you felt like you were on top of the world. you felt the pounding your heart as you pussy clenched around him. it left a head rush followed by a throb as you relaxed your grip against the covers.

"that's it. only one for you. no one else." your sweet boyfriend's tone was heavy with lust as he gave you a few more heavy strokes of his cock. he felt your cunt have a hold on him as he finished inside of you. he let out a heavy exhale as he finished, slowing his pace until he stopped and letting your plant your feet firmly on the ground.

but quickly you were in bed with him, his arms wrapped around you and his sweaty forehead pressed against yours. you both laid in bed and panted heavily against one another. you smiled softly at the closeness, especially with his arm wrapped around you lovingly. his hold was protective.

"i love you." he said softly.

"and i love you." you replied as you turned over to kiss him on the lips. oscar felt more secure in your love for him, that you wouldn't run off with carlos or any other driver. not when your skin was littered with marks of him. better luck next time, sainz <3

[frmisnow]

ㅤ▌ ͟PINK RIBBONS & PRETTY LITTLE LIES! ⠀⎯⎯⠀⠀ ♬᭢ 𝟏.𝟓𝐤 smut . nsfw

SUMMARY in which you wear the set of lingerie that jungkook got you last valentine.. back when everything was going well (aka. before you broke up) ─── and he's reminded of how it felt to be yours and vice versa

jungkook shouldn't be here.

he knows it the second he steps through the threshold, the air too sweet, too warm, too familiar. it clings to his skin like a your perfume used to, drowning him in déjà vu. he’s been inside this apartment before — slept in that bed, kissed against that kitchen counter, fucked on that couch.

but right now? he's just a visitor. hell, a guest. not even a welcomed one, at that.

“you said you needed something?” your voice is a bit lower then usual, cautious, the same way it always is when you don’t know what to do with him.

jungkook blinks, coming back to himself. “yeah,” he says, tugging at his sleeve. “uh. my charger.”

it’s a lie. a shitty one.

your brow lifts, unconvinced clearly a bit amused. “your charger?”

“yeah,” he repeats, stuffing his hands into his pockets doing his best as to not act like he’s not already regretting this. “i think i left it here last time.”

he doesn’t mention that last time was two months ago, right before everything went to shit.

you’re still watching him, lips pressed together like you want to say something, maybe call him out. but then you sigh, defeated, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ll check,” you reply simply, before turning towards your bedroom.

and that’s when he sees it.

just a glimpse, a flash of pink — delicate, silky, peeking out from beneath your shirt. a thin little strap sliding against your shoulder, trailing down your back, thin and precise.

valentine’s day. the last one — before everything went to shit.

he still remembers it in vivid, aching detail, the way the night bled into morning, how thd walls shook from how hard he fucked you, the imprint of your nails down his back when he m ade you come for the fourth time. how ruined you sounded, voice hoarse from moaning his name, from begging, from pleading — not that you ever needed to. jungkook would have given you anything.

he did.

i got you something, he’d said, fingers running along your spine as you sat on his lap, bare and so fucking soft. you gotta open it, though.

you had, with a lazy, knowing smile — already looking at him like you knew whatever was inside would be sinful. after all, you knew him so well.

the second you pulled out the pink lace, you’d laughed. "you’re such a perv."

yeah? his teeth had found your shoulder, licking over the fragile skin, before biting into it gently. put it on for me, then.

and fuck, you had. you did.

he’d known you’d look good in it, but nothing could have prepared him for how perfect it was — how the fabric hugged your tits, how the straps stretched over your hips, how the sheer paneling did little to nothing in hiding the way your cunt was already glistening for him.

then, fucked you slow at first, dragging it out, making you whimper, making y ou work for it. made you ride him just so he could watch you — so he could see how your tits bounced in that pretty little thing, so he could slip his hands under the fabric and yank until it nearly tore. he’d wanted to see you in it, wanted to make you come in it, wanted to make sure the next time you put it on, all you’d think about was him.

and now — now you’re wearing it again.

not for him.

something ugly twists in his chest.

“why?” his voice is quieter than he means for it to be. rougher.

you freeze, hand still reaching for the box on the top shelf. “what?”

“why are you wearing it?”

there’s a visable pause, just a second, showing you clearly gave more thought into this, then you pretended.

jungkook steps forward, fingers twitching. “did you wear it for him?”

he doesn’t say the name. doesn’t need to.

your shoulders go stiff, but you don’t turn around. “It’s just lingerie, jungkook.”

his jaw clenches. “it wasn’t just lingerie when I bought it for you.”

a deep inhale, measured. “things change.”

his presence is suffocating behind you. close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body, the way his breaths are heavier now. fuck, when did he even manage to get so close? you swallow, slow. "it’s just lingerie," you repeat, but there’s no actual conviction behind it.

“take it off.”

jungkook exhales sharply through his nose, a scoff bordering on a laugh, like he's going fucking insane. which by the way this conversation was going, he probably will. then, he’s closing the distance in one step, inked hands gripping your hips, pulling you back against him so your spine meets his chest. he’s warm. solid.

there's something familar and comforting in feeling him.

“you wore this for him?” his palm drags under your shirt, right to tracing over the lace, which was just as silky as he remembered “him?” like it was an insult to him personally.

you swallow. “jungkook—”

“tell me he made you come in it.” his hand moving below your waistline, flattens against your core. you suck in a sharp breath, heat pooling between your thighs. “tell me he fucked you in my lingerie.” his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tighter against him. his cock is rock hard, pressing into the small of your back.

“did he make you feel good?” he tilts his head, pressing a kiss to your neck. “did he make you beg?” another kiss, softer. his fingers press harder. “did he make you cry for it?”

you gasp, hips bucking forward.

“i bet he didn’t,” jungkook murmurs, his fingers slip under the lace, gliding over your slit audibly groaning at how wet you were, “bet he didn’t fuck you like you deserved.”

“bet he didn’t even touch you like this.” he slides a finger inside you, slow, deep. you whimper, "baby, i know he can't."

your head falls back onto his shoulder, a soft string of noise slipping past of your lips while his thumb rubs gentle circles around your clit, “i can love you so much better than he can.”

you breathe his name out, barerly, rocking your hips against his hand. “fuck,” he hisses, sliding another finger inside you. his lips ghost over your neck, pressing a few more kisses onto the skin, his breathing uneven. “need you, baby.”

his fingers move before his mind does, turning your head to his direction as he presses his lips onto yours, effectively lifting you onto the dresser behind you.

jungkook doesn’t realize he’s barerly breathing until you turn to face him, arms folding over your chest, pushing your tits up against the delicate lace. he can’t even be mad anymore. not when you look like this.

“jungkook,” you start, voice quieter than before. maybe even a little guilty. maybe not.

“can love you so much better than he can,” he breathes against your mouth, lips brushing, voice smitten almost as if he was begging. “you know that, right? you know.”

the hesitation in your eyes almost kills him. but then — then you sigh, melting against him, pressing into his chest with a softness that makes something in his stomach twist. your arms loop around his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair, tugging.

“kook,” you whimper, voice barely above a whisper as if it were a secret, only between the both of you. “kiss me.”

while groaning, jungkook drags you up against him, hands gripping at the backs of your thighs, forcing your legs around his waist. kisses you until you’re gasping, until you’re tilting your head back, mouth agape, letting him trail his mouth down the curve of your jaw, your throat, biting down when he reaches your collarbone.

he stumbles toward the bed, nearly toppling both of you over when he lays you down, panting, hands running over your thighs, pushing them apart. his cock aches in his sweats, already damp at the tip, already too hard to be rational.

“you wore this for him?” he asks again, just to watch you squirm. just to see the way your cheeks flush, the way your brows pinch together, that guilty expression that was almost grazing slutty.

“it’s just lingerie,” you whisper, shaky. who were you even fooling? not jungkook, that's for sure.

he snickers, disapprovingly yet there was no real malice, not in his gaze, not in his tone. he licks over the lace first, just to make you whine, pressing the fabric against your soaked cunt with his tongue, groaning at the taste. then, he tugs the panties to the side again, diving in properly, flattening his tongue against you.

your thighs jolt, fingers curling into the sheets, a choked gasp escaping when jungkook drags his tongue up your slit, slow, deliberate, savoring.

“fuck,” he mutters against you, hot breath sending a shiver up your spine. he licks again, rougher this time, pressing in, teasing at your entrance before flicking back up to your clit.

your breath stutters, hips bucking, but his hands are already on you, gripping, holding you down with a bruising force.

“keep still,” he says, voice thick, taunting. you can only whimper, thighs trembling, while jungkook hums in approval, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking, slow and deep. your fingers find his hair, tugging, and he groans, pressing his tongue against you harder.

“so fuckin’ sweet,” he breathes, slipping a hand between your legs, thumb rubbing slow circles over your slick folds, spreading your wetness. “bet he’s never had you like this, huh?”

you don’t answer. can’t. not when jungkook slides a finger inside you, then another, stretching you, pressing deep until he finds that spot that has you gasping, back arching. oh sweet sweet past, guess some things really do stay the same.

[cometconmain]

Personally, when I created the writeup I have on my blog giving a brief rundown of my blog in the description it was less of a "don't interact because I don't know how/refuse to use a block button" in the sense described here and more intended as what I originally thought a DNI was supposed to be:

"I don't tolerate actual bigoted behaviour so don't waste your time coming in here thinking we'll be friends only to spring some bigoted bullcrap on me later thinking that was a normal thing to believe/say/do. Don't waste your time and don't waste mine. Here's where I stand on these real life actual problem things so you can just bail if you're not ready to accept that. If you can't critically consume fictional media and don't have anything substantial to say in your critical consumption, I don't have time for you so save your breath and mine and go back to your purity cult. Also if you're under 18 this blog is not for you. I am an adult and don't wish to have minors running around pretending like we're all chill with having kids on a blog with adult-only content actually when I don't kmow you exist or haven't been told in some way that you shouldn't be here despite how clear I've made it that this is an adult-only space. Leave.

And if I find out you're any of these types of people I WILL be curating my internet experience by blocking you."

You know? There are different ways to use DNIs that aren't "fuck you no you put all the effort in to not expose me to you" and are instead intended more like "Hey look interact if you want but I'm warning you that you're wasting your time long term if you think you can be shitty to real life people right in front of my salad, so to save us both the hassle I'm leaving it up to you specifically because I have no idea you exist and can't block you until I do so feel free to take that first step since you know we won't gel and you know I exist while I have not yet had the displeasure."

That said, people definitely shouldn't put real life issues next to fandom preferences and gripes. It defangs serious real world issues by trying to take the fangs off them and slap them directly onto the fictional things to lend credence to them because the person doing it doesn't know how to express their discomfort well enough to feel heard about it/expect people to dismiss anything they say out of hand so they grab whatever closest thing from real world issues already considered serious which could kind of fit if you do a handstand and squint through a cloud of steam. Which has the opposite effect, because now people are (rightfully) angry at them for trivialising real world issues to make people treat their perspective on fictional media seriously.

If you know how to criticise media and/or make sure you know the difference between actually potentially harmful handling of a theme within fictional media vs something made you uncomfortable and you want to express it and feel heard as part of processing it but don't know how, then you probably won't feel as strong of - if any - need to play up what you have a problem with. Because a) you know how to express your position to get people to listen to you, b) don't need strangers on the internet to validate you to know you're right because you're versed in identifying and talking about how to fix this problem in media causing potential harm to a marginalised group or otherwise teaching potentially harmful perspectives and here's why... and c) you know when something is just bothering you personally and probably have some healthier copes for it, like ranting into the void on your own post without using any main fandom tags and/or ranting to your friends and/or writing fix-it fic and or- you get the gist.

The day we start doing more of that is the day this whole 'anti-shipper' and responding 'pro-shipper' thing will probably calm down a little bit.

i don't respect DNIs not in the sense i go out of my way to break them but in the sense that i don't respect DNIs as a concept and consider them to be something of a red flag in general.

i'm not sure how to explain it but it's the combination of usually putting very serious issues on the same level as fandom stuff, the fact that half the time people don't even know what they're against beyond 'the bad stuff' therefore even further watering these issues down, and the idea that other people are expected to manage your online existence for you.

there's a passiveness to it that i think is actually a problem and it does not surprise me in the slightest that people with DNIs tend to view what media they consume as activism. do you get what i'm saying.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

could I request one where reader tells Fred that she's pregnant and he gets a bit overprotective of her?

A/n: DAD!FRED

You’d been trying to find the right moment to tell Fred all day, but as usual, the Weasley twins had been busy causing mayhem in the shop. Every time you thought you had a second alone with him, someone would burst in needing something.

Finally, after the last customer left and George conveniently decided to “check inventory” in the back (which you highly suspected was his way of giving you privacy), you took a deep breath and turned to Fred.

“Fred,” you started, trying to steady your nerves.

He grinned, draping an arm around you. “Yes, love? What can I do for you? Want me to prank Percy again? Because I’d be delighted.”

You laughed but shook your head. “No, it’s… something else.”

Something about your tone made him sober up instantly. His playful smirk faded into concern, his eyes scanning your face. “You alright?”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it. “Yeah, I’m fine. Actually… I’m better than fine.” You took a deep breath and finally said the words. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, Fred just stared at you. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. It was like watching a broken puppet try to function.

“You’re… what?” he asked, voice higher than usual, your once confidant husband looked like he was hit with a Bludger. The man who survived the Battle of Hogwarts looked like he was two seconds away from keeling over.

You laughed softly, nodding. “Pregnant, Freddie.”

A slow, disbelieving grin spread across his face, but then—just as quickly—it shifted into something else. His hands suddenly hovered near you like he wasn’t sure if he should touch you.

“Merlin’s beard—okay, okay, sit down. You should be sitting.”

“Fred—”

“No, no, no, I mean it,” he said, ushering you toward the nearest chair. “You should be resting. Are you tired? You must be tired. You’re making a baby, that’s got to be exhausting....I... oh god." Fred gripped his hair now realizing how tired he must have made you.

You rolled your eyes as he kneeled in front of you, looking you over like you might break at any second.

“Fred, I’m fine.”

“Well, you won’t be if you keep standing around like that!” he insisted. “We need to get you something to eat. You’re eating properly, right? Oh, I need to tell Mum. She’ll know what to do. And Healer appointments—do we need to make one? When do we make one? You need to sit! Why are you standing! You shouldn't be standing."

You burst out laughing. “Fred, breathe!”

He sucked in a deep breath, exhaling slowly, but his eyes were still filled with excitement and overwhelming concern. “Okay. Right. I’m breathing. I’m calm.” He took another breath and then suddenly turned toward the back of the shop.

“OI GEORGE! SHE’S PREGNANT!”

You groaned, covering your face as George came running in, eyes wide. “Blimey, really?” He grinned at you before turning to Fred. “And you didn’t pass out? Proud of you, mate.”

Fred glared at his twin before turning back to you. “I swear, love, I’m going to take the best care of you. No heavy lifting, no stress, no....no nothing..but pure relaxation."

You sighed, already knowing that Fred was about to become the most overprotective man in existence. But as he kissed your forehead and pressed a hand gently against your stomach, his wide-eyed awe and love made your heart melt. A nervous smile on his lips as his he held you close, the man now guiding you to the back of the store to sit down.

Overprotective? Yes. But the love of your life was also about to be the best dad in the world.

[t4tlottie]

hey so idk if you reached this in the film yet, so veryyy minor spoilers for companion BUT

that sex scene between josh and iris that lasted like one second and he busted his nut but she looked SO BORED

i have a thought about reader overhearing it, and then when iris goes to shower or whatever r waits for her and somehow seduces her or wtv and straps her THE FUCK down…poor girl cums for the first time in her botlife

You feel like throwing up all the wine you had as you watch Iris pull Josh into her arms to dance with her. That fucker doesn't deserve her. You don't think you deserve her either, but you'd sure as hell treat her better than he does. I mean, calling your robot girlfriend, who doesn't even know it, by the way, beep-boop? As a nickname? You just wanna go over there and punch him.

But you don't.

You quietly slip away and head to your room which takes you about 5 minutes to find because of how stupidly big this house is. By the time you pluck off your socks and faceplant on your bed, you hear two people rush by your door while giggling. The door a few doors down from you slams and you feel your stomach sink. Josh and Iris. They're in the room closest to you. You shut your eyes and try to think of something to distract you from the disgusting noises you're about to hear. A minute goes by and you hear Josh groan loudly, and you genuinely let out a snort. Motherfucker couldn't even last two minutes with her? Then you get irritated. Does he ever please her? Sure, she is technically a sexbot, but imagine how fun would it be to go down on a robot! Has she ever cum from him? Does she even know what it feels like to cum?

You have to know.

Your feet lead you to their door before you can even properly think about what you're doing. Of course it's unlocked, and you silently pump your fist in the air when you spot Josh passed out on the bed. The bathroom door is ajar, and the sound of running water fills your ears. You slowly sneak forward, glancing in between the gap to see Iris in her bra and panties, placing her clean clothes on the counter. Glancing once more at Josh, you shuffle toward the door and slip in while Iris' back is to you and then close it.

"Josh?" she says, voice sounding too chipper for your liking. She turns around with a smile but gasps when she sees you. Her eyes go wide, and she tries to cover herself up. "What are you doing here?"

"The door was unlocked," you respond like you're stating the obvious. "I heard you guys fucking. Not for long, though. I wanted to see if you were alright."

"If I'm...alright?" Her arms loosen around her body, figuring you're not a threat anymore. She thinks you're here to check up on her because of the noises. You must've been worried. "I'm okay."

"You sure?" You step closer, glancing down at her cleavage. Iris backs up against the cold sink, her arms slowly dropping to her sides. "Sounds like you didn't have fun. I only heard him. Are you sure you're alright? You don't need any help?"

"Help?"

You nod and give her a toothy grin. "I know he didn't make you cum."

Iris doesn't know it, but she's programmed to be devoted to Josh and only Josh. But something inside her wants to claw its way out and have you. Another part of her thinks it's wrong. You're her friend and she's with Josh. She shouldn't be thinking about this with you.

She laughs awkwardly and shakes her head, looking at you with innocence. "It's okay. It doesn't really matter. As long as Josh is satisfied, I'm happy."

Your eyes darken as she says that and you feel jealousy rise in your throat. "Has he ever made you cum, Iris? Has he ever even touched you?"

Iris thinks about it. All those times with Josh and not once did he repay the favor. But like she said, as long as Josh is happy.

She shakes her head and shifts on her feet, not knowing whether the wetness in her panties is Josh's cum or her own lubrication from this conversation. She throbs either way.

"No." she murmurs, swallowing hard.

You shuffle closer until your noses are barely an inch away. Her eyelashes flutter as you rest your hands on the sink and lean in, ghosting over her lips. "I can be your first."

Iris hums but it comes out like a whimper. Her hand comes up to pathetically push your chest but her nails dig into your shirt and she pulls you back last second to make you stay. "What about him?" It takes Iris too long to remember Josh's name as you stare her down like that, but she glances at the bathroom door.

"He doesn't have to know." you reassure her, grabbing her hand and looking for any sign of discomfort before sliding it down to cup your strap bulge. "Not like he'll be able to smell me on you anyway."

You speak again, letting your hand go from hers just to see if she keeps it there. She does. "Do you wanna do this?"

"Yes." she nods, looking down and squeezing your bulge.

You smirk and a thought comes across your mind. Josh has given Iris robot commands right in front of her face and she didn't even know it. You really wanna try it out.

"Iris, bend over." Your voice is a little timid as you speak, but there's a roughness to it.

Will it even work? Does she only respond to Josh's voice?

Suddenly, she's twisting in your grasp and showing her ass to you, waiting for you to take her. Holy fuck. It does work. Your eyes widen at how easily she listened, and now you kind of get why Josh does it so often. But fuck him still.

You quickly unzip your jeans and take out your strap, already breathing hard at the fact that you're going to be the one to make Iris cum for the first time. You hold onto her waist and smile at how she jumps with nervousness. Hooking your fingers into her panties, you pull them down and shudder at how glossy her pussy is. You admire it for too long apparently because Iris backs up and huffs, looking over her shoulder with big eyes.

"You said you'd make me cum." she impatiently whines.

"And I am. Bet Josh would already be passed out inside your cunt right now, huh? You're left throbbing around him, pretending you're satisfied, but you know you want more." You wrap your hands around the dildo and rub the tip up and down her slit, your heart beating rapidly when she moans loudly. "I'm gonna take my time making you feel good."

Slowly you enter her, desperately wishing you could feel her tight hole struggle around your cock as you watch it disappear inside. Iris' jaw goes slack as you bottom out, and she hisses in slight pain when you grip her hips to hold her hips tight against you. Fuck. Josh isn't nearly as big as you. She can feel her brain go numb as you start to move slowly, and the hand she has on the counter slips momentarily, causing her to lean forward and arch her back.

"Oh, my God." she moans, eyes rolling to the back of her head. She nearly chokes on her spit when your thumb rubs at her clit, and her hands start to shake.

With one hand on her hip and the other on her back, you roughly start to thrust into her. The sounds she makes plus the skin-on-skin contact makes you throw your head back, relishing the moment you've thought of for so long.

Iris's brow furrows as she feels this weird sensation in her lower belly. She looks at you in the mirror but you have your eyes closed. The pressure builds and builds until she can't hold it anymore, and she gushes all over your strap. You have to slap your hand over her mouth to conceal the moans spilling out of her lips. You're worried that she'll wake Josh, and as hot as that might seem, you really don't wanna have that conversation right now.

Iris pants against your hand and if you had a real cock, it would be leaking so much cum inside of her right now. She's so fuckin' hot, you think. Especially as you feel her body shake uncontrollably as she tries to come down from her first orgasm.

She taps your side with a weak finger and you remove your hand from her mouth, noting how much drool is now on it.

"That's what they feel like?" she breathes out heavily, trying her best to sit up a little straighter to look at you in the mirror. You laugh at her stunned face and she cracks a smile too. Her mouth makes an 'O' shape when you slowly slide out of her, and she shakes her head desperately. "No, stay inside. Please? Just for a little longer."

Her voice sounds shy and needy as she asks, and how could you ever deny her? You push yourself back in and grunt at the sloppy sound her pussy makes, leaning forward to rest your body weight on her as you hug her.

"Can we do this again soon?" you mumble against her cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles on her arm.

"Josh is a heavy sleeper. Why not do it again right now?"

[yunpupu]

Offstage Desires | J.YH

Pairing: Yunho x f!reader

Warning: 18+

Genre: Smut, Idol AU, Slight Dom/

Word Count: 1042 words.

Summary: You're Yunho's girlfriend (secret girlfriend) and he's an idol, a member of a boy group called ATEEZ (we know duh lol) and you went to their concert as you saw their performances in their dressing room as you sat on Yunho's seat.

The backstage area was dimly lit, the hum of the concert still lingering in the air. Fans' screams echoed in your ears, but they were nothing compared to the pounding of your heart as you stood in Yunho's dressing room, waiting.

The performance had been electric- his sweat-slicked body moving effortlessly, commanding the stage with that signature confidence. And now, here you were, your breath hitching as the door clicked shut behind him.

Yunho leaned against the door, chest rising and falling, eyes dark with something unspoken. His black hair clung to his forehead, his stage outfit hugging his broad shoulders and toned frame.

"You've been watching me all night," he murmured, voice deep and teasing as he stepped closer. "Did you like what you saw?"

Your throat went dry as you swallowed hard, nodding. "You looked... incredible."

A slow smirk played on his lips. "You always say that," he said, reaching out to tilt your chin up. “But tonight, it felt different. You couldn't take your eyes off me."

Your breath caught when his fingers ghosted over your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. "Yunho, we shouldn't—"

"Shouldn't what?" he interrupted, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Be alone together like this? Touch each other the way we both want?"

You exhaled sharply as his fingers trailed down your neck, pausing just above the neckline of your dress. His presence was intoxicating-his scent, his heat, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing he wanted.

“Tell me to stop," he challenged, lips barely brushing against your ear. "And I will."

But you didn't.

Instead, you grabbed his wrist and guided his hand lower, pressing it against the curve of your waist. That was all the permission he needed.

In a blur of movement, Yunho backed you against the vanity, his hands gripping your hips as his mouth crashed against yours. The kiss was hungry, desperate—weeks of stolen glances and unspoken tension igniting into something raw and unrestrained.

His hands slid up your thighs, bunching your dress around your waist as he lifted you onto the counter. You gasped into his mouth when he pressed himself between your legs, the hard outline of his arousal making heat pool in your core.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he growled against your lips, his fingers tracing the inside of your thigh before slipping beneath your panties.

A moan escaped you when he found your slick heat, his touch both teasing and possessive. His lips traveled down your neck, sucking and nipping as he worked you open with slow, deliberate strokes.

"Yunho-please," you whimpered, gripping onto his shoulders as pleasure coiled in your stomach.

He chuckled darkly. “Patience, baby. I want to take my time with you."

But patience was the last thing on your mind when he dropped to his knees, dragging your underwear down with a wicked grin. The moment his mouth met your throbbing core, all coherent thought vanished-only the sound of your moans and the sinful way he devoured you filling the room.

And tonight, there would be no more holding back.

Your fingers tangled in Yunho's damp hair, tugging gently as his tongue worked magic between your thighs. Each flick and swirl sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans growing louder with every passing second.

"Yunho, I-" you gasped, feeling the tension build to an almost unbearable peak.

He pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, eyes dark and filled with desire. "Not yet,” he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I want to feel you come around me."

With that, he rose to his feet, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimate act only fueling your desire. His hands deftly unbuckled his belt, the sound of the metal clinking sending a thrill through you.

Impatient, you reached down to help, your fingers brushing against the hard length straining against his pants. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and making you ache for him even more.

Finally, he freed himself, the sight of his arousal making your mouth water.

He stroked himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, pausing to look into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice strained with restraint.

"Yes," you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "Please, Yunho."

With a low growl, he pushed into you, the stretch and fullness making you both gasp. He paused once he was fully seated inside you, giving you a moment to adjust.

"God, you feel amazing," he murmured against your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

"Move," you urged, rolling your hips to emphasize your point.

He didn't need to be told twice.

Pulling back, he thrust into you with a steady rhythm, each movement sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he drove you both closer to the edge.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure-the slap of skin against skin, your mingled moans, the creak of the vanity beneath you. It was raw, primal, and everything you'd ever fantasized about.

"Yunho, I'm close,” you panted, feeling the coil in your belly tighten.

"Me too," he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Come for me, baby."

His words sent you tumbling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your walls clenched around him, triggering his own release as he buried himself deep inside you with a guttural moan.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the two of you lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. Slowly, your breathing returned to normal, and Yunho pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"That was..." you began, but trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Yeah," he agreed, a satisfied smile on his lips. "It was.”

As you both began to disentangle and redress, a comfortable silence settled between you. Whatever this was, whatever it meant, you knew one thing for certain—you'd never look at the stage, or Yunho, the same way again.

[elgaladwen]

I am not trying to fight with anyone here, because I know this is coming from a place of wanting to help with the current situation, but this is so silly that I have to say something. (And thank you to the people in the comments who note that this is also a common feature of Teams itself) I don't know all the details, so maybe I am missing something, but the way this is presented is seemingly just hearsay and fear-mongering over a normal business process. It's perfectly common in government (and I imagine in the private sector too) to be able to search through Teams chats, emails, or any other records (because yes, Teams chats are records) for keywords for legal and public disclosure, disciplinary actions, or a number of other reasons. As someone else in the comments also noted, they might have installed third party software to do this in a better or different way than Teams itself. (We use a third party program at work to search emails so that we can be more thorough than what's out of the box with Outlook, for example)

I guess this sounds weird if you've never worked for the government or for a big company who issues you a computer, but this is how it works. There isn't any expectation of privacy for anything said on work devices or though work channels. Usually it's less nefarious than this sounds, like you want to make sure you got everything for a public records request, or even just something like someone needs to look up something you talked about because they forgot, but it could also be to make sure you weren't doing something that you shouldn't. And I can't speak for every employee, but in my job, we are not allowed to talk about politics during work time, because we are supposed to represent all the people of my state and that silliness, so yeah, I could get in trouble for talking about Trump and Musk on work channels, and I can't imagine my state and agency is the only one like that.

Now yes, if some random dude is doing this separately from normal processes, that is bad. But this reads as if some employees only just realized that their computers can be monitored and searched. "Some federal employees say" and "some think" is not basis for fact. I'll try to see if I can figure out what, exactly, they're talking about, but regardless, i just want people to realize that this is a very common thing. There are many insane things Musk is doing that we can worry about, without adding red herrings.

Elon Musk's teenage hackers have inserted bots into the backend of the federal system so they can spy on government workers and sniff out any disloyalty to Felon47.

This is not only highly illegal but qualifies as an act of espionage and sedition.

Remember when First Felon accused Obama of spying on him through a microwave oven? Always a projection.

[ilovegyokeres]

do part 2 of Celebrity Crush with their dinner and then developing into a secret relationship, him posting her music/film, with her going to the stadium to watch him play and then the public becoming suspicious. it would be cool to have photos on IG of when they came out and maybe Kenan won a championship and she went to hug him on the field 😩 definitely a slow one with cute moments

The phone buzzed again. It was nearly midnight on your end, and you were sitting cross-legged on your couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket. The late-night calmness had settled over your apartment, but your mind was anything but calm.

You’d just finished a long day of work, but no matter how hard you tried, your thoughts kept drifting back to Kenan. His messages. The fact that you were actually talking to him. It had only been a few days since your Tonight Show interview aired, but in that time, your social media had exploded, and somehow, amidst all the chaos, he’d found his way into your DMs.

You had to admit: you were addicted to the conversations.

Kenan Yıldız: What time is it over there?

You smiled to yourself as you typed back.

You: Almost midnight. What about you?

Kenan Yıldız: Morning. Just got out of training.

The message was pretty standard, yet you couldn’t help but feel a little spark at the thought of him training hard on the other side of the world. You quickly typed:

You: Shouldn't you be, like… resting?

The reply came quickly, as if he had been waiting for it.

Kenan Yıldız: Shouldn't you be sleeping?

You laughed quietly to yourself. You had barely even realized how late it was.

You: Touché.

Another pause. You could feel your mind racing with a thousand thoughts, and you started typing again, trying to force your nerves into something else.

You: Can't sleep. Just one of those nights.

A few seconds passed, and you stared at the screen, the dots bouncing.

Kenan Yıldız: Same.

That was it. A simple message, but it held so much meaning. You wondered, for just a moment, if he was saying something more than just the words. The shared sentiment was clear. The more you thought about it, the more the weight of it sank in.

You wanted to say something, but before you could, his next message popped up.

Kenan Yıldız: Wanna call?

Your heart skipped.

A call? You hadn't expected that. Your thumb hovered over the screen for what felt like an eternity. Your breath hitched, and you suddenly realized how exposed you felt. It wasn’t just a regular conversation anymore. This was Kenan.

You tried to play it cool. You told yourself you didn’t need to jump into anything. But when you looked at your phone, the nervousness crept in. What if you said something dumb? What if you didn’t know what to say? The whole situation felt so… real now.

His next message made you hesitate even more:

Kenan Yıldız: Or we can just text. Whatever you want.

You swallowed hard. You had already come this far. You didn’t want to back out now. FaceTime—that was the next step, right? If you didn’t do it now, you might never get the chance again.

You: FaceTime.

Your fingers hit the send button before you could think better of it. And almost immediately, you regretted it. Was that too forward? Were you rushing things?

And then, your phone started to ring.

Your stomach flipped as you saw the name. Kenan Yıldız.

You took a deep breath, quickly smoothing out your hair and making sure you didn’t look like a total disaster before swiping to accept the call.

The screen flashed, and then there he was.

Kenan Yıldız. In your phone.

He was lying back against what looked like a bed, wearing a plain t-shirt, his hair a little messy from training. His eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, you both just stared at each other in silence.

You could feel the nerves creeping in, but you didn’t want to look away first.

“Hey,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft, almost like he’d been waiting for this moment too.

You swallowed, still trying to play it cool. “Hi.”

“Didn’t think you’d actually say yes,” he teased, the familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You laughed awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. “Well, I figured… I couldn’t keep avoiding it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Avoiding it? I wasn’t going to bite.”

“No, not that,” you rushed to clarify. “I just… I didn’t know if I was ready for an actual call, you know?”

He nodded, his expression softening slightly. “I get it. But you’re here now.”

There was a beat of silence, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of it. Being on a call with someone you’d only ever seen on TV or social media was surreal. It felt different, but also more real than anything you’d done with him before.

“So,” he started, shifting a little to sit up. “What’s the deal with all the edits? I swear I’ve seen enough memes of me and you together to last a lifetime.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on that going viral.”

“I saw the interview, and I’ll admit—I was flattered. Didn’t know I had that kind of effect.” His tone was playful, but there was something in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t just joking.

You smiled, trying to ignore the warmth that spread across your cheeks. “You should be flattered. You’re Kenan Yıldız.”

He chuckled, but there was a noticeable softness in his voice when he spoke next. “But you’re you. I mean, I’ve been following your work for a while.”

You blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. He’d been following your work?

“You’ve been… following me?”

He looked away briefly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. A fan of yours, actually.”

Your heart skipped.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” His smile widened, and he leaned forward slightly, as though he was trying to close the distance between you two, even though you were miles apart.

You tried not to get too caught up in the words, but you could feel the chemistry between you two now, even through a phone screen. It was subtle, but it was there.

“So,” he continued, “Tell me more about what you’re working on. What’s next for you?”

You shifted a little, feeling the nerves begin to melt away as you got into something familiar. “Well, I’m actually working on a new movie. It’s a bit of a drama, something I haven’t done before. So, there’s a lot of emotional range involved. It’s kind of scary, actually.”

“Sounds like something I’d watch.” His tone was light, but you could hear the genuine interest in his voice.

You couldn’t help but smile. “You’d watch a drama?”

“Depends. If you’re in it, I’d definitely watch.”

The compliment hung in the air, and your heart fluttered just a bit. It wasn’t just flattery. There was a realness to it that made you feel… seen.

“You’re making me blush,” you said, trying to keep things casual, but your cheeks betrayed you, and you could feel the heat creeping up.

Kenan noticed, of course. He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. “Good.”

For a moment, you both just stayed there, looking at each other. The small talk had shifted to something more personal. Something that felt real.

It had been a few days since the FaceTime call with Kenan. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it. About him.

Every time you unlocked your phone, your fingers hovered over his name in your messages. You weren’t sure if you were overthinking things or if there was actually something there—something real—between you two.

Since that night, your conversations had been more frequent. It wasn’t just the occasional message here and there anymore. Now, he texted you throughout the day, sometimes just checking in, sometimes sending voice notes, sometimes teasing you about things you’d said on the call.

And the energy between you two had shifted.

The messages were still playful, but there was a new weight behind them.

Like earlier today:

Kenan Yıldız: What are you doing?

You: On set. You?

Kenan Yıldız: Bored. Waiting for training to start.

You: Wow, must be nice to just be bored in Italy.

Kenan Yıldız: Yeah, but you’re not here.

Your breath had caught at that last part. It had been so casual, so smooth, and yet it stuck with you the whole day.

And now, you were lying on your couch again, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, waiting—though you didn’t want to admit it—for him to text.

Then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed.

Kenan Yıldız: Can I call you?

Your stomach flipped. You stared at the message for a second, fingers tightening around the phone. You wanted to answer immediately, but something about how casually he asked made your nerves spike.

Was this becoming… a thing?

You chewed on your lip before finally responding.

You: FaceTime or just a call?

His reply was immediate.

Kenan Yıldız: Your choice.

You hesitated for just a second before your fingers moved on their own.

You: FaceTime.

Not even a full second later, your phone started ringing. You took a deep breath before swiping to accept, and there he was—again.

Kenan was sitting on a couch, looking more relaxed than last time. His hair was slightly damp, probably from a shower, and he was wearing a simple hoodie. The second his face appeared on the screen, the corners of his lips tugged upward in a small smile.

“Hey,” he said.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. “Hey.”

“You’re making this a habit,” he teased, shifting slightly.

You rolled your eyes. “I could say the same about you.”

He smirked. “I don’t mind.”

And just like that, the tension settled—familiar, warm, electric.

You tucked your legs beneath you and leaned back into the couch. “So, what’s up? Why the sudden call?”

Kenan shrugged. “I dunno. Just felt like talking to you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you tried to play it cool. “Bored again?”

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “Just… I guess I got used to talking to you.”

You swallowed, the weight of those words settling in your chest. You were so not prepared for this level of honesty.

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

Kenan tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. “What?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to brush it off. “Nothing, just—didn’t expect that answer.”

“What did you expect?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe something about football or how you just wanted to annoy me?”

He chuckled, rubbing his jaw. “I mean, that too.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no denying the warmth spreading through your chest.

There was a small pause before Kenan spoke again. “So, tell me something.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I dunno. Something random. Something I don’t know about you yet.”

You hesitated for a second, then shrugged. “Okay. Um… I talk to myself when I’m trying to memorize lines.”

He smirked. “Like, full conversations?”

“Oh yeah,” you admitted. “I argue with myself sometimes too.”

Kenan laughed. “That’s kinda cute.”

You scoffed. “No, it’s not. It’s embarrassing.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s real. I like that.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how genuine he sounded.

Your voice was softer when you spoke next. “Okay. Your turn.”

He thought about it for a moment, then said, “I always listen to music before a match. The same song, every time.”

You leaned in slightly, intrigued. “What song?”

He hesitated. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Absolutely not.”

Kenan sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “It’s… Superhero by Metro Boomin.”

You burst out laughing, and he groaned. “I knew it.”

“I’m sorry! It’s just—” You covered your mouth, trying to hold it in. “That’s so intense. Like, imagine your teammates just vibing and then there’s you, mentally preparing for war.”

Kenan smirked. “Exactly. Gotta lock in.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “That’s actually kinda cool.”

He looked at you for a second, then said, “You’re different when you’re comfortable.”

You blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head slightly. “You were nervous the first time we talked.”

You swallowed. “And now?”

Kenan’s gaze didn’t waver. “Now, you’re just you.”

For a moment, you just… looked at each other. The air between you was thick with something unspoken, something neither of you had fully addressed yet.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake it off. “I—um, I should probably sleep soon.”

Kenan smiled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Yeah. Don’t want to keep you up too late.”

You bit your lip, hesitating before you spoke again. “But… this was nice.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

Kenan leaned back against the couch, exhaling. “Guess I’ll have to call you again, then.”

You smirked. “Guess so.”

The silence stretched out again, neither of you willing to hang up first.

Finally, Kenan chuckled. “Alright. Goodnight, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered at the way he said your name.

“Goodnight, Kenan.”

And when you finally ended the call, you were smiling like an idiot.

This was something.

And you weren’t sure where it was leading, but… you weren’t running from it anymore.

You told yourself you weren’t going to overthink it.

And yet, here you were, staring at your phone, overthinking it.

It had been almost two weeks since those late-night FaceTimes with Kenan, and things between you two had only gotten… more.

More texts. More calls. More teasing, inside jokes, little moments that felt like something real.

And yet, nothing had been said outright.

You weren’t sure how to define whatever this was—if it even needed defining. Maybe it was just two people enjoying each other’s company. Maybe it was more. Maybe—

Your phone buzzed.

Kenan Yıldız: What time is it over there?

A familiar smile tugged at your lips as you typed back.

You: Late. Again.

Kenan Yıldız: And you’re still awake?

You: And so are you.

Kenan Yıldız: Yeah, but I have a reason.

You raised an eyebrow, curious.

You: Oh? And what’s your reason?

The dots bounced for a second before his reply came.

Kenan Yıldız: You.

Your stomach flipped.

You blinked at the message, rereading it like maybe your tired eyes were playing tricks on you. But no—it was there. Clear as day.

You exhaled sharply, gripping your phone tighter. What were you supposed to even say to that?

The answer came before you could think too hard about it.

Kenan Yıldız: Wanna call?

You hesitated, but only for a second before you typed back.

You: FaceTime.

The call came immediately. You inhaled sharply before answering, and just like that—there he was.

Kenan was lying on his bed this time, hood up, dim lighting casting a soft glow around him. He looked comfortable, like he had nowhere else to be, no one else he wanted to talk to but you.

"Hey," he said, voice low, relaxed.

"Hey," you echoed, settling back against your pillow.

"You looked scared for a second," he teased.

You rolled your eyes. "I was just preparing myself for whatever dumb thing you were about to say."

He smirked. "And yet, you still picked FaceTime."

You huffed, but there was no real annoyance behind it. Just familiarity.

He adjusted slightly, resting his chin on his hand. "So… I’ve been thinking."

Your heart kicked up a little. "About?"

Kenan hesitated, then exhaled like he was debating something. And suddenly, the lighthearted teasing faded into something heavier.

"About us meeting."

Your breath caught.

You swallowed. "Oh."

Kenan studied your reaction, his gaze never leaving yours. "Do you want to?"

Your head spun. Not because you didn’t want to—but because now, it was real.

You had spent all this time talking, dancing around whatever this was, building something between the two of you that had been kept safely behind screens and text bubbles. But now? Now, he was saying it out loud.

And you had to answer.

You inhaled deeply, trying to play it cool. "Where would we even meet?"

He smiled slightly, like he was relieved you hadn’t immediately shut it down. "You tell me."

"You’re the one in Italy," you pointed out. "Kinda hard for you to just hop on a plane."

His expression didn’t change. "Not impossible, though."

You blinked. "You’d fly here?"

Kenan shrugged. "Or you could come to me."

You hesitated. "Kenan—"

"It makes sense," he interrupted, like he already knew you were about to argue. "I have training, matches… I can’t really leave. But you, you travel all the time anyway, right? And the paparazzi aren’t as crazy here as in the U.S."

Your lips pressed together. He had a point.

"You really want that?" you asked, quieter this time.

Kenan’s voice softened. "Yeah."

The way he said it—it wasn’t some casual, playful suggestion. It was intentional.

He really wanted you there.

Your chest tightened.

You bit your lip, hesitating for only a second before finally admitting, "I do too."

Kenan’s smile widened, but there was something softer behind it. Something real.

"Then let’s make it happen," he said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You took a shaky breath. "What would we even do?"

His eyes flickered with something amused. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Your face heated. "I—I didn’t say that!"

Kenan smirked. "You kinda did."

You groaned. "Oh my god, you’re insufferable."

"But you like me anyway."

You opened your mouth to argue—but… you didn’t. And Kenan noticed. His smirk deepened.

After a long pause, he leaned closer to the camera, eyes steady on yours. "Come to a game."

Your breath hitched.

Kenan continued, "Not publicly. No cameras. Just you. No one has to know."

Your heartbeat roared in your ears. "You want me to come to a match?"

"Yeah," he said, like it was obvious. "I want you there."

Something about the way he said it—so effortlessly, like it was the most natural thing in the world—made you feel something.

Like maybe, just maybe… this was more than just late-night conversations and teasing texts.

You swallowed. "And after?"

Kenan arched an eyebrow. "What about after?"

You hesitated, then, pushing past your nerves, said, "We should get dinner."

Kenan stilled for a second—then a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

"Now who's asking who out?" he teased.

You rolled your eyes. "Take it or leave it, Yıldız."

His voice was lower when he answered, "I'll take it."

Your stomach flipped.

Silence stretched between you, heavy with something unspoken.

Then Kenan exhaled, leaning back against his pillow. "Guess I should start playing even better, huh?"

You smirked. "Oh, absolutely. I’ll be judging."

Kenan chuckled. "Noted."

For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was one of those rare comfortable silences—one that felt natural, like neither of you were in a rush to end the call.

Kenan was the one who broke it. "You're actually coming."

It wasn’t a question. More like a realization.

You smiled. "Yeah."

And for the first time, this—whatever this was—felt real.

[danwhobrowses]

My dear Callowmoores, I need to talk to you about the finale again

So spoilers below the cut

I understand that we're reacting freshly to the finale in a more sad light, but I also think we shouldn't fall into despair.

Yes, it does suck that every other ship - including Dariax and Deni$e - got some degree of realisation in this episode while ours got a vague one, we have lived in vague for so long and given it's the finale it did feel that we of all the ships - not involving a Champion of Ravens and a Voice of the Tempest - were due something solid. And believe me, as much as I loved that Ashton cared so much for Fearne that they wanted her to make sure that travelling with them was what she wanted a big part of me also just wished they just said yes, or it was at least confirmed that she joined them as a couple in their epilogue talks.

I won't begrudge those reactions because I feel it too, but I also think we can't let it overshadow the stuff we did get, because we're letting the unknown take precedent over the known. Ashton told Fearne how much they loved her, and we can't understate just how important it was for Fearne to be the one to initiate the question rather than being offered, it shows that those feelings are still clearly in there and want to be realised.

Much of the despairing also seems focused on Ashton's epilogue, particularly that one day they 'never come back', but the context and details of that are also vague. For all we know that means they did find a place, or went somewhere beyond this plane, or simply went off the radar - something Nana Mori was suggested to be able to do for Braius regarding Asmodeus, and since Fearne is learning her Nana's craft she too would be capable of it in time. It's also not to say that Ashton went alone, Tal did say that they often would bring the Hells along, it's also not clear where this was in time - how long does a titan vessel live for? I was always under the headcanon that they were timeless, like elves in LOTR, so it could be centuries down the line for all we know. Finally we also have to point out that epilogues can change, remember when Caleb and Essek would divorce due to the aging thing? That got retconned.

It's just, it saddens me that we're upset, it saddens me that even with about 9 hours of content we didn't get something conclusive, and it saddens me that we will have to wait until March for answers we hope are positive in the wrap-up party and not more patented vagueness like we've gotten from prior 4SDs. But I don't want to despair; this isn't a nail in a coffin, this isn't a stake to the heart, or an iceberg at sea, this episode didn't say or do anything negatively about the ship: the unknown is unclear for sure but we know these two love each other

And there's still the hope and belief that Tal and Ashley will vindicate it.

[billiesbabygirleilish]

Strings of Fate pt. 2

pt.1

*.*.*.*.*➳➳➳➳➳┄┄🎸┄┄➳➳➳➳➳.*.*.*.*.*

*.*.*.*.*➳➳➳➳➳┄┄🎸┄┄➳➳➳➳➳.*.*.*.*.*

The silence stretched, thick and charged, between you and Billie at the after-party. Every brush of her arm against yours, every prolonged eye contact, was a spark threatening to ignite. The bass thumped through your chest, a relentless rhythm mirroring the frantic beat of your heart.

You found yourself cornered near the bar, Finnas and Claudia engaged in a deep conversation beside you. Billie, sensing your momentary entrapment, swooped in, her eyes alight with mischief.

“Saving you from the in-laws?” she murmured, close enough for you to feel the warmth of her breath on your ear.

“Something like that,” you chuckled, a nervous flutter in your stomach.

“Come on,” she said, tugging gently on your hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

Without a word to anyone, Billie led you out of the club, the blaring music fading as you stepped into the cool night air. A black Escalade idled at the curb, its windows tinted. She opened the passenger door and gestured for you to get in.

As the car pulled away, leaving the flashing lights and pulsating energy behind, you felt a different kind of anticipation building. The drive to Billie's house was short, but the intensity grew with every passing mile. The city lights blurred through the window, mirroring the swirling vortex of emotions inside you.

The house was surprisingly quiet, a minimalist sanctuary away from the chaos of her life. She led you up the stairs to her bedroom, the air growing lighter with vanilla as she opened the door, the scent of her amplified in the enclosed space. The room glowed softly, illuminated by fairy lights strung across the ceiling, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Billie turned to face you, her eyes searching your face. “Okay,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “This is happening. Are you… sure?”

You stepped closer, cupping her face in your hands. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, her gaze locking with yours. She reached out and gently unbuttoned the top button of your shirt, her fingertips brushing against your skin. The electricity between you was palpable, a live wire humming with desire.

The next hours unfolded in a haze of touch and taste and whispered words. The clothes disappeared somewhere along the line. Her hands moved with a confident grace, exploring every curve and hollow of your body. Your own hands roamed over her, tracing the lines of her tattoos, reveling in the soft skin and the subtle strength beneath.

The kisses were slow and deliberate at first, a delicious exploration of each other's mouths. Then, they turned frantic, urgent, a desperate need to get closer, to merge into one. You wrapped your legs around her waist as she lifted you, pressing you against the wall, her hips grinding against yours. You moaned, the sound lost in the darkness.

She tasted like Aquaphor and mint gum, a combination that shouldn't have worked but somehow did, fueling the fire that raged between you. Her fingers dug into your back, urging you closer as she kissed a path down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake.

The climax was a raw, seismic eruption, a release of pent-up tension that left you breathless and trembling. You clung to her, your bodies slick with sweat, the world spinning around you.

After, you lay tangled together in the soft sheets, the only sound the gentle rise and fall of your breaths. Billie propped herself up on an elbow, gazing down at you, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"Wow," she breathed, her voice husky with satisfaction.

You smiled back. "Yeah, wow."

She gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. "Are you okay?"

"More than okay," you murmured, nuzzling into her shoulder. "That was… incredible."

Billie continued to run her fingers through your hair, tracing small circles on your back. "Good. That's good."

She pulled the covers up around you both, cocooning you in a warm embrace. She kissed your forehead, a soft, tender gesture that spoke volumes.

"Let's just stay here for a while," she whispered, her voice laced with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before.

You nodded, snuggling closer. The adrenaline slowly faded, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and connection. You felt safe, cherished, truly seen.

Billie continued to stroke your hair, occasionally humming softly. After a while, she spoke again, her voice quiet.

"Do you want anything?" she asked. "Water? Food? Cuddles?"

"All of the above," you mumbled, your eyes already drifting closed.

She chuckled. "I can do that. Cuddles first, though."

She wrapped her arms tighter around you, holding you close as you drifted off to sleep, feeling safe and loved in her embrace.

Hours later, you awoke to Billie gently shaking you. "Hey," she murmured. "You okay? You were kinda restless."

"Just a dream," you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

"Want to talk about it?"

You shook your head. "Nah. Just glad you're here."

Billie smiled and scooted closer. "Always."

"Also," you mumbled. "I'm hungry."

Billie laughed. "I figured. I ordered us some pizza."

You grinned, "You're the best."

"I know," she said with a smirk. "Want to watch a movie while we wait?"

You nodded, snuggling into her side. "That sounds perfect." As you sat there, wrapped in Billie's arms, a movie playing softly in the background, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the weird, wonderful, and unpredictable turn your life had taken. And you knew, deep down, that whatever happened next, you would face it together.

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Tim didn't know what had made him decide to give Damian another chance. If he had to guess, he'd say it was a collection of small moments instead of one big life-changing one. The way Damian was gentle with the animals at the farm, taking care of them in any way they needed without waiting to be asked or caring about dirtying his clothes. It was about the secret smiles Damian got when he thought no one was watching. How he helped the Kents around the house with excitement, delighted to learn new skills instead of annoyed at being put to work. He saw his need to be of use even when no one required it. He was so small. He had seen him struggle to reach things all around the kitchen while trying to help, too shy to ask for a stool, too stubborn to give up.

He was just a kid. A kid with assassin training and a lifetime of trauma but a kid nonetheless. Looking back to his early days at the manor, he could see the insecurity in his actions against Tim. The way he had acted out of fear instead of real aggression. Bruce hadn't helped. Too busy with Jason and the league and Batman to raise a child, or the last 4 for that matter. Damian had received no reassurances of his place in the family. No way to know if he would be allowed to stay without carving a place for himself. Tim understood it better now that he had seen the inner workings of the league. The realization had come gradually but it had stayed on the back of his mind, making him feel like he was missing something. It had gotten him to pay more attention to the kid.

That was how he had finally seen what was bothering him. It was in the small gestures. The minute flinches he displayed every time he was shown affection, the way he seemed to lean towards any kind of friendly touch for the first few seconds only to step away from it as soon as he realized what he was doing. Tim could see his walls were up almost all the time, even while knowing he was in a safe space. At first he had thought it was because of him. Eventually he realized it was another part of his training. That's when he realized Damian still felt like every single moment was a test of some kind. The uncertainty around his undefined position in the family still preventing him from relaxing, even now that he had Robin.

The kid was desperate for affection and clearly touch starved but couldn't let himself lower his guard enough to get what he needed. Hugs didn't help either. It opened him to too many attacks and he could not relax while knowing he was vulnerable in more ways than one. He could see the kid's anxiety skyrocket whenever the Kents initiated one. He hoped it was different with Dick, the two of them had formed a deep connection. Either way, it wasn't enough.

It got worse when the Waynes had their falling out. Tim knew the hero community had decided to shield him but it didn't stop him from keeping informed. He was well aware of the moment things blew up on their face after they realized Bruce's words were just that. Hollow and not backed by Bruce's beliefs. His love was very much conditional and his affection given sparsely.

It was something that wouldn't change unless Bruce put some serious effort into maturing his emotional intelligence and realigning his priorities. Tim didn't see it happening any time soon. He had finally accepted there was not much he could do about it. Not really. He had been trying for years at the expense of his health and sanity and the best he had accomplished was giving him a superficially happy family with such a fragile foundation that it had taken just one small blow to tear the illusion apart. He couldn't fix someone that didn't think there was anything wrong with his current way of life. Leaving was one of the hardest things he had done but he didn't regret it.

That said, he still felt partially responsible. He knew Bruce's mess was his own and Tim shouldn't have to be there to clean it. Dick and Jason were all grown up and perfectly capable of making their own choices. Cass, Steph, Barbara and Duke had all moved on and found communities where they fit in with people they cared about out of the family. They were thriving. Damian, however, was still a child. He didn't have as many options or enough experience in interpersonal relationships to know anything was wrong to begin with or how to go about changing it. Tim couldn't let his little brother suffer without at least trying to help. He had decided to intervene.

It had taken him a few days to determine the best approach. He wanted Damian to know he had options and to show him how healthy relationships worked. He wanted him to be able to relax and let down his walls when he was around people he trusted, even if Tim was not included in that list. He did not want to interact with the rest of the Waynes. With that in mind, he had settled on a plan and gotten to work.

He had started small. He had talked to the Kents. At first it was just Martha and Jonathan present. He had explained the situation and his theories on what would help Damian. He had told them to find a balance to provide affection to Damian through touch without making him feel vulnerable or exposed to an attack. He had then asked Jon, with Ma and Pa's blessing, to start inviting Damian to the farm more often and for shorter trips. He had then started working on his own relationship with Damian.

He approached it slowly, being nearby without being perceived as a threat. Sitting close enough to count as company but not to touch if either of them extended their arms. Working on his homework or his projects without putting on headphones or making himself unapproachable. Keeping his body language open and inviting. Letting Damian be the one to decide if he wanted to interact and do so on his terms. Eventually, the kid took him up on it. It started with small gestures, Damian sitting closer and working on his drawings while Tim kept doing homework. Bringing him snacks or drinks if he got up to get his own.

After a while, they started talking as well. Damian was hesitant at first. Tim had seen him try and talk and had decided it counted as the first move and asked about his pets. It was easier from then. They talked about the farm, the Kents, Tim's independent projects, his major, Damian's drawings, his upcoming events. Damian had told him Bruce demanded his attendance at a gala later that week and Tim had given him tips and tricks to survive Gotham's elite. They still tiptoed around the topic of their family. Damian didn't talk about them, even if he mentioned their name every once in a while. Tim didn't push.

Eventually, Damian had gathered the courage to apologize about his early interactions with Tim. Tim had accepted the apology and taken it as an invitation to start a bigger conversation about healthy relationships and family dynamics. Damian looked thoughtful and sad. Tim had taken it a step further and made him promise to come to him if he ever felt unsafe in his current situation. Damian had looked perplexed and ready to snap his walls back up. Tim had given him enough examples and details to show that he was being earnest and had managed to extract the promise.

Now, Damian was at his door with too many bags to only be visiting but too little to contain everything he owned. Tim couldn't say he didn't see it coming. He had still hoped to be wrong.

The next few months went by quickly. They settled into a routine and Tim made sure to establish clear expectations and well defined boundaries around their arrangement. He started looking for houses, taking Damian to see the more promising ones. He knew his little brother would want to have his animals back with him and they needed more space than the apartment could provide. He bought enough psychology books to fill up a small library. He showed most to Damian. Some he kept to himself. He talked to Ma constantly, trying to make sure he was giving Damian everything he needed to thrive and grow knowing that he was loved. That he mattered. It was nerve wracking. It was worth it when Damian led him to his room, proudly showing his decorations and waiting for Tim's approval. The trust in his eyes was the best compliment Tim had gotten in a long time.

As they got used to living together and relying on each other, Tim kept adding new things to their routine that he thought would benefit Damian. He bought him materials for his art, clothes meant for comfort more than usefulness, things for his pets. He offered to teach him photography, Damian agreed and offered to teach him different drawing techniques. He started introducing Damian to new people, partly to ensure he had more people in his corner if Tim wasn't available but also to expand his bubble of trust and work on de-isolating him after all the years he had spent mostly alone in the manor. He started with people Damian already knew and trusted. Cass, then Steph and Duke, then Kon and Bart, then J'onn, Diana, and Clark, then Zatanna, then some of his university friends, and so on.

He took note of who Damian seemed to click with and arranged more outings with them. He wasn't expecting Damian to connect with everyone but he wanted to give him the option to do so and enough people for Damian to interact without any expectations outside of getting to know them for a bit. Only a select few were allowed inside their house. Tim's priority was for it to be Damian's safe space and he wasn't going to jeopardize that for anything. Only people that had earned Damian's full trust got to visit them in their sanctuary. Everyone else met them outside. It was a good system.

He also enrolled Damian into school, silently transferring legal guardianship of the boy to himself after he had gotten his permission to do so. He didn't think the bats had noticed yet. Bruce was still trying to get to Tim in any way possible (Tim saw his repeated attempts on his security systems and kept an eye on the times he tried to get people to give away his information). Dick had gone back to Bludhaven after the latest screaming match and wasn't aware there was anything out of the ordinary happening. Alfred had contacted Ma Kent to inquire about Damian's safety (his words, not Tim's) then had continued with his duties as Bruce's butler without doing anything else. He cared in his own way, just not enough to take a stand against his ward.

Life kept going. Damian's 13th birthday came and went, they spent it with the Kents and visiting Damian's animals. They moved to a bigger house and Tim started looking at blueprints to build something to house Damian's pets closer to the boy. As they moved in, they decided to turn the living room into a shared study for them both. On one side Damian's painting materials and all his drawings, on the other a sturdy table with comfy seats and enough space for Tim to work on his latest project. They included a couch and a few other places to sit and spend time together. They turned a smaller room into a game room with a big TV, board games and different consoles. They turned the rest of the rooms that weren't their own into guest rooms for the Kents and the few others allowed to visit. Slowly they started filling the walls with their own decorations. Damian's drawings of Titus and Alfred, Tim's pictures of the city and Damian's pets, a few of the ones they had taken together on their excursions. Damian lamented leaving all his old art projects behind but when Tim offered to get them he decided to just start new ones.

Damian's first big drawing in the new house had been a surprise to Tim. He had insisted on covering it whenever he wasn't working on it, making Tim promise not to take a peek and being careful not to show it to him whenever he added to it. Tim was curious but he wanted to respect his little brother's privacy and let him do things on his own terms. It took almost a month to complete. Damian had finished it while Tim was out of the house. By the time he had come back, Damian had been waiting impatiently at the door and had led him to their study as soon as he was within reach. Once they were there, Damian had started fidgeting before hesitantly turning his finished painting so that Tim could finally see it.

Tim felt his heart fill with warmth. It was a painting of him and Damian standing at the Kent's farm. It was breathtaking. Damian had managed to capture the welcoming essence of the Kent's while keeping the focus on him and Tim and their closeness. It felt more like a candid picture of them than a portrait. Full of life and love. Tim felt a few tears escape his eyes as he pulled Damian close and hugged him. Later that day, he got it framed in a design both him and Damian approved of and hung it up in the center of their living room. Even as Damian's collection grew and the walls started filling with art from both of them depicting their adventures, it remained his favorite.

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.