#that way I wouldn't have a fear at the back of my head anyway good luck

[ramayantika]

–✦– 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨, 𝙍𝙞𝙨𝙝𝙞𝙠𝙖𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙒𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙣 –✦–

Reflection in the Mirror

Please note that this is only the end for the first part of the series. There are so many rishikas, apsaras, and divine women who have inspired me and been with me all this while, so they too deserve their own tales. But for now, I want to end these goddesses, rishikas and women series so that I can keep track and save them. To be honest, this started off purely out of spite when I saw comments and mean DMs to girls who were plainly stating their achievements regarding how they did it or when they were simply stating the obvious fact that a woman in India is looked upon as a form of the goddess.

These men (except some gems) were like you all are sluts who claim to be goddesses and the same women chi women tea and shit. This series was my reminder that no matter what the goddesses won't give a fuck about shit men like this, and certainly not their spouses. So here's an end tribute to these goddesses and rishikas with a light mention of the future stories I shall post soon because I do have an idea about what I want ;)

Usha Lakshmi Gargi Ratri Saraswati Rati Aditi

I stare hard at the mirror. If my brother saw the depth and sharpness of my gaze, he would start quivering. I am the soft elder sister of the family who loves kids, dances around the house, and speaks sweetly. But Maa Durga knows I carry Kali's fierceness in my heart. Maa Durga bestowed her strength in my bones. How else did he see my fight with that big bully for him?

The day I was born, my father got a promotion. Maa cheerfully tells me that I had blessed the home as my sakhi, the goddess of wealth and prosperity Lakshmi. When they think, she is the goddess of priceless treasure and money, I remind them that this wealth is also the food and good luck bestowed on me and on the house. I was named after prosperity and good luck, just like my goddess friend. My grandparents called me devi. I am still called devi during navaratri, and these men who have prayed to the goddess only for these selfish needs have the nerve to say that I do not carry the goddesses inside me?

I stare hard at the mirror. Lakshmi keeps her arm around my shoulder. Maa Durga stands just behind me and beside her is the fierce dark goddess Kali, who smiles benevolently.

With a wine coloured hue, I see the goddess of love, Rati enter the mirror, and tuck a loose strand behind my ear. She winks and waves her fingers at me, with a proud smile on my face as I wear a red lipstick again. I have known the lustful gaze of men over my form who think they could easily have me and bend me according to their whims and fantasies. They think they can shame me for my beauty and grace when my form has been blessed by the goddess herself.

And when you possess beauty, they think, the lovely maiden has no brain to go with. I see Rishika Gargi, Lopamudra, and Maitreyi enter the reflection, their faces shinning with the immense amount of penance for knowledge and wisdom. Someday, I aspire to reach an ounce of their knowledge. They look at the pearl bracelet on my wrist and look behind to welcome the goddess who narrated me the wisdom being pearls, Devi Saraswati. She pulls a string of her divine veena, and everybody bows down to her.

On a glorious chariot arrives the goddess who told me to keep my head held high, and emerge as strong as the sun, the one who reminded me that after the darkest of nights come the brightest of days, Devi Usha. She pats my head, and tells me that she is proud of me. She has seen me grow into a woman who is still far from perfect, still committing silly mistakes, but a woman in learning -- a woman who keeps desiring to refine herself who understood that mistakes, despair and failures help you grow.

Following her sister's trail comes the silent witness to my journey, the goddess who showed me the hidden magic of the night and provided me the comfort of the moon and the stars on days that were too difficult to pass by. She is Devi Ratri. She still wears the dress woven of stars and celestial elements making her the sparkling queen of the night. She looks back at me from the mirror, her gaze proud and strong, and if I am not wrong, a sisterly gaze in them.

Draupadi enters the room and playfully opens my hair. She has brought a bunch of jasmine flowers and weaves them through my hair. Her laughs sounds music to my ears. If I haven't told you all then listen now. The first tale, I heard in my childhood was the story of the queen of Indraprastha. The divine dark beauty, the cherished wife of the Pandavas was the one whom I carried in my heart for long to remind myself that if a queen could overcome tremendous difficulties and pains in life, I could do too. You can do it too.

A beautiful flute music makes all our heads turn at the teenaged girl. Donning pink and red robes with flower jewellery adorning her form, I see Radha smiling and waving at the goddesses and rishikas in the mirror. She pats my cheek and beams at me. She was the forgotten friend, but god, she never forgot me. She is the shining beacon of true friendship and unconditional love.

As a child, I got lost in a forest. My family grew petrified. A young child getting lost in the forest. What if someone took her away? They forgot that Aranyani, the lost goddess now exists in the lush green hilly forests. She nurtures the animals, be it prey or predator. She nurtures the wild shrubs and fruit giving trees. She keeps medicinal plants in the heart of the forest, so any poisoned or injured child of hers could be saved in the deep forest.

How can I forget the apsaras, divine celestial woman who have been misjudged so much? Apsaras were the beautiful ladies who came alive through my comic books into my dance classes. They taught me how to dance your heart out. They taught me how to move agile as a deer; how to have a sharp gaze to disarm the audience; how to dance like the gods; how to dance until nothing remains but dance. Menaka, Urvashi and Rambha, the main trio very popularly known in folk tales and dancing texts have danced with me. They still do. I carry their grace in my movements as I practice for hours. I know the beauty I carry in sweaty flushed faces and tired limbs, while embodying the fiery passion for a beautiful artform. Alas, how could you ever understand them or even my heart, and my practice? Here they are stretching again for another evening to practice with me and teach me their skills.

Sita, the woman who needs no introduction whose mere mention leads to pride soaring in the hearts of us womenfolk. She garlands me with fresh sweet-smelling flowers around my neck. Her serene face fills me with silent strength and support that sometimes you don't have to fight your battles out loud. Strength doesn't have to be physical. Sometimes she sits beside me in her forest robes to tell me about cute birds and their language. And for moments where I need to learn how to battle on the front without weapons, she comes in dressed as a queen fit for the throne, born with resilience just like Bhu Devi, and imparts the lesson to me.

With battles, I remember the warrior queen of Dwarka, Murari's Bhama. She walks in holding her bow, looking as regal like the queen she is. I remember her first appearance in a dream to know her, to write about her. She was a queen who sang to me about the lost kingdom of Dwaraka, whose glories are still sung, but now lie submerged under deep waters of the sea. She emerged from the lost kingdom and told me her story. Once again misjudged like several other women for not being docile and submissive, but being aware of her own sense of self and pride which got translated to arrogance by many. Satyabhama stands in the mirror, beside me, holding fire in her gaze and steady fingers on the bow she proudly owns.

Countless of other deities, and divine women and scholars join me in front of the mirror. Their faces glow with strength, power and centuries of wisdom. This is enough proof to know that each of them reside in every body, but for us women, we have a more intimate connection with out sister and motherly goddesses. Menfolk can call us prideful and arrogant, but these goddesses and divinities never have kept us below them. We stand with them as equals, as warriors, lovers, teachers, mothers and nurturers. This eternal bond of womanhood connects us alike. It's a pity to make some of these men understand.

Lastly, they merge into one, and I see myself as the only girl standing in front of the mirror.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊**＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

Thank you for reading this till the end. It's not really an end because we still have too many tales to share. I am really glad that some of these stories resonated with you and you found solace in them. It's not me it's the goddesses work. Anyway hope you all have a blessed day! Love you ❤

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

hii I was wondering if u could write something where daeho and reader are already in a relationship and they find eachother after the first round and maybe they are upset with eachother for going into the games.

anc if it could have a bit of fluff that would be nice!!

tyy🫶🫶🫶

At Least We Have Eachother

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- Dae-ho and you both join the squid games for the benefit of the other. Neither of you know about it, until you find each other after the first game.

Warnings- Squid Games, mentions of blood, murder, and death

A/N- Thank you guys for the overwhelming support with my Daeho fic. I am so motivated right now, it's not even funny. He is such a sweet baby, MY SHAYLAAAA

Word Count- 1,192

Your debt was not something you were proud of. To be honest, it crept up on you. It started with medical bills, then Daeho ran into some Ex-Marines, who dragged him into a bad gamble.

From there it kind of went down hill. Struggling to pay bills, borrowing more money, making the wrong people mad. In other words, the two of you were in an extremely bad position.

When a strange man with a suitcase approached you on your way home, you were hesitant. In any other situation you might have ignored him and walked away. But, you had just had another invoice from a debt collecting company. Not to mention the loan shark that came up and threatened Daeho two days prior. The eviction notice was also putting a hole on your kitchen table.

The idea of following the funny-looking card, winning a bunch of money, clearing your (and Daeho) debts. It was too good to be true, you knew that deep down. At the end of the day, you were at rock bottom. Desperate people do desperate things.

So, while slipping Daeho a simple lie about spending the night with a friend... You took off to the discrete location alone. Where you were picked up by a van. You don't remember much after that.

The regret sunk in deep when you realized what you had gotten yourself into. When you awoke seeing hundreds of people around you, all in the same position, you were noticeably scared. You barely left the bed you woke in. Only to stand with the crowd to listen to the guards and sign the needed contract. It seemed too late to back out now...

The first game was lonely, intimidating, and revealing. The only reason you weren't lying head face in the sand dead, was your fear. It struck you stone-cold still on 'red light'. The ring of your ears pressured you to move forward on 'Green light.' Due to the deadly shots to other players. It pushed you to move so you didn't suffer the same fate.

You were much too nervous to talk to anyone, you saw little point in making friends at first. That was until the realization of any team games.

After the first game was officially over and you had returned to the common room, you'd taken a moment to think. To think how it would be if you were able to walk home now. How it probably wouldn't even matter if you had died, so many people were out for your head anyways. It was all looking dark, but Daeho was your light. He was always so positive, he kept you happy. You owed it to him to keep fighting.

To keep fighting for that adorable, handsome, sweet face. That same face that was currently staring you down....

"Daeho?" You questioned, just in case your mind was playing a trick on you.

"What are you doing here!" He ran over, pulling you further behind the layered beds. His grip was tight on your arm, once the two of you stopped, he seemed to notice. At that he quickly loosened his squeeze.

"W-why are you here! I-I thought you were sleeping over at-" You cut him off, your guilty conscience taking over.

"Daeho, what are you doing here?" You rebutted, frantically pushing your hair back. He knew you were nervous.

"To settle some of our debt, but that doesn't even matter anymore. People are dying, you can't be here!" He stressed over you. He did a few takes over your form, making sure you were not hurt in any way. You thought he was finished until he slowly brought his hand up. He stuck his thumb out and seared a few drops of blood off of your cheek. You hadn't noticed them before...

An argument against him was impossible to think of, but you managed. "Well I can say the same about you! You could get killed also. Where would that leave me!" He threw his head back, pressing both hands over his face. He dragged them down, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Ohhh, this can not be happening.. I-it doesn't matter, because you're here, where you were not supposed to be!" He started to fidget with his fingers, a sign he was distressed.

"Dae...I'm also here because... I got fired yesterday..." You looked down, picking at your nails. His head snapped to look at yours. "What?"

"They were... overstaffed and, apparently a younger employee could do the same amount of work for minimum wage... So, they just got rid of me..." He looked sympathetic, but still mad.

"You should have told me. We would have figured it out. You didn't have to lie."

You thought for a second, "Its not like I wanted to lie! I was trying to help us!"

"How reckless!" He said. It was almost comical!

A laugh pushed its way out, "Oh my gosh, don't act like you aren't here too!" You started to raise your voice, frustrated.

He took a single step back, hands on his hips. "You're supposed to be the smart one! I'm fun, loving, a burst of fricken light!" He said, his words contradicting his tone, not joyfully at all.

"Whatever! What matters now is that we were stuck in a death trap! The money is not even our first problem. We might not even be alive before the day is over! Or worse, you'll be dead and I'll be left to suffer!"

He gave another sigh, stepping forward and embracing you. It was exactly what both of you needed. His arms wrapped impossibly tight around you. You could only reciprocate the squeeze. His head fell on top of yours, he nestled in.

"I don't want to argue, I just want you safe... We will be fine." He said, keeping you in his grasp.

"I know, but I just wanted to help... The man seemed so promising, that we could have a normal life again." You wanted to let your tears flow, but you couldn't risk looking weak. You had to remind yourself that there were still a couple hundred other players in the large room.

He shook his head on top of yours, "I would live in a tent as long as I was with you.... I can manage anywhere, as long as you are by my side..."

You pulled back to look at him. Your arms still wrapping around each other. "I just, I know you're not happy... I wanted to clear everything up, one day own our own house. One that we can never get evicted from." He pushed a stray hair behind your ear.

"Oh Dae, I don't care about that. I just want you." You shoved your head into his chest.

"I love you.."

"I love you too."

"What the hell are we going to do here." You questioned, peaking up from his chest slightly.

"Were going to stick together. We're going to get out of this alive." He pulled back and down to press a firm and reassuring kiss on your lips. Maybe things would be so bad after all.

Oh, how naive you both were...

A/N- Honestly, I like my first Daeho fic better. But that's probably because I am a SUCKER for emotional hurt/comfort. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed this one. Pls lmk how I can improve!!!

[ryin-silverfish]

One nerd's musing about Chinese religion and "respect"

-I try to stay away from fandom discourse, but, much like how you can smell the stench from a dumpster fire without walking into said dumpster fire, I've noticed something that seemed to come up a lot in western JTTW + adjacent fandoms: "respect Chinese religion".

-Usually as a reason for why you shouldn't ship a character, because of fucking course it's shipping discourse too.

-And my first reaction is "Man, you are taking Chinese religion too darn seriously, more than people who are born and raised in China."

-My second reaction is "I mean, most of us are atheist/agnostic by default anyways, with a good number of what I'd call 'atheist/agnostics with superstitions': people who said they were not religious, yet believed in Fengshui or divinations and burnt incense at temples for good luck."

-My third reaction: "But why do I get the feeling that when you mention 'Respect', you are thinking about something completely different?"

-Then I reread an essay from Anthony C. Yu, "Religion and Literature in China: The "Obscure Way" of Journey to the West", and the metaphorical lightbulb just lit up over my head.

(Everything below applies more to Daoism + associated folk religions, but by the time most classic Chinese vernacular novels were written, the blending of the three religions had become well and truly mainstream.)

(The conception of gods differs from dynasty to dynasty. What I'm describing here is mostly based on Ming and Qing ones; if you went back to Han or pre-Qin times, most of these would not apply.)

(I am one of the "atheist/agnostic by default" people. I just have an interest in this kind of stuff. I am also just one Chinese person, and an actual Daoist/Buddhist/Religion Studies researcher would probably have a lot more valuable information and perspective to offer when it comes to contemporary practices and worship. Like any people on the internet: take my words with a grain of salt.)

-Even in the past, when society was far less secularized, Chinese gods are not omniscient, perfect beings whose worship is a solemn, humorless affair. Some's worship are Serious Business, but that has more to do with the sort of gods they are and the patronage they enjoy, not godhood in and of itself.

-And even the ones that you are supposed to "treat seriously" are still very human. To use an analogy I've used plenty of times before: you respect and fear them in the same way you'd respect and fear an emperor's official, or the emperor himself, because if you don't, you are not gonna like the consequences.

-However, unlike Jesus, the emperor & his officials were capable of being temperamental, flawed, or an outright asshole, divine or not. Ideally, they wouldn't be, and if you were one of the "serious" believers——people who actually got an official permit, became ordained clergy, and went to live in a temple, you were unlikely to think of your gods in that manner.

-But it wasn't a complete, utter impossibility. The lower you go in the pantheon, the closer you get to popular religion, the less "serious" the gods and their worship become. By that, I mean general attitude, not sincerity of faith. You still shouldn't be rude to them, but, well, they are more likely to take a joke in stride, or participate in the "vulgar" pleasures of commoners because they weren't as bound to Confucian moral standards or religious disciplines.

-To stretch the same analogy further: you should still respect your village head, they could still give your ass a good spanking for being a disrespectful brat, but you were not obligated to get on your knees and kowtow to them like you would do in front of a provincial magistrate, the emperor's minister, or the emperor himself, nor did they have the power to chop your head off just because you were rude.

-On the other hand, the emperor would never visit a random peasant just to help them fix their broken plow or treat them to a nice meal, but your village head could, and your relationship would probably be warmer and a lot more personal as a result.

-Your respect for them was more likely to stem from the things they actually did for you and the village as a whole, instead of something owed to this distant, powerful authority you might never get to see in your lifetime, but could change its course with a single stroke of a brush.

-Now exchange "village head" for your run-of-the-mill Tudis and Chenghuangs and friendly neighborhood spirits (because yes, people worshipped yaoguais for the exact same reasons), emperor + his officials for the Celestial Bureaucracy, and you'd have a basic idea of how Chinese religions worked on the ground level.

-This is far from absolute: maybe your village head was a spiteful old bastard who loved bullying his juniors, maybe your regional magistrate was an honest, upright man who could enjoy a good drink and a good laugh, maybe the emperor was a lenient one and wouldn't chop your head off for petty offenses. But their general degree of power over you and the closeness of your relationships still apply.

-Complicating the matter further, some folk gods (like Wutong) were worshipped not because they brought blessings, but because they were the divine equivalent of gangsters running a protection racket: you basically bribed them with offerings so they'd leave you alone and not wreck your shit. Famous people who died violently and were posthumously deified often fell into this category——shockingly enough, Guan Yu used to be one such god!

-Yeah, kinda like how your average guy could become an official through the imperial examinations, so could humans become gods through posthumous worship, or cultivate themselves into immortals and Enlightened beings.

-Some immortals aren't qualified for, or interested in a position in the Celestial Bureaucracy——they are the equivalent of your hermits, your cloistered Daoist priests, your common literati who kept trying and failing the exams. But some do get a job offer and gladly take it.

-Anyways, back to my original point: that's why it's so absurd when people pull the "Respect Chinese Religion1!!1!" card and immediately follow up with "Would you do X to Jesus?"

-Um, there are a lot of things you can do with Chinese gods that I'm pretty sure you can't do with Jesus. Like worshipping him side by side with Buddha and Confucius (Lao Tzu). Or inviting him to possess you and drink copious amount of alcohol (Tang-ki mediums in SEA). Or genderbend him into a woman over the course of several centuries because folks just like that version of Jesus better (Guan Yin/Avalokitesvara).

-But most importantly, Chinese religions are kinda a "free market" where you could pick and choose between gods, based on their vicinity to you and how efficient they were at answering prayers. You respect them because they'll help you out, you aren't an asshole and know your manners, and pissing them off is a bad idea in general, not because they are some omnipotent, perfect beings who demand exclusive and total reverence.

-A lot of the worship was also, well, very "practical" and almost transactional in nature: leave offerings to Great Immortal Hu, and he doesn't steal your imperial seal while you aren't looking. Perform the rites right and meditate on a Thunder General's visage, and you can temporarily channel said deity's power. Get this talisman for your kids at Bixia Yuanjun's temple, and they'll be protected from smallpox.

-"Faith alone" or "Scripture alone" is seldom the reason people worship popular deities. Even the obsession with afterlife wasn't about the eternal destination of your soul, and more about reducing the potential duration of the prison sentence for you and your loved ones so you can move on faster and reincarnate into a better life.

-Also, there isn't a single "canon" of scriptures. Many popular gods don't show up in Daoist literature until much later. Daoist scriptures often came up with their own gigantic pantheons, full of gods no one had heard of prior to said book, or enjoyed no worship in temples whatsoever.

-In the same way famous dead people could become gods via worship, famous fictional characters could, too, become gods of folk religion——FSYY's pantheon was very influential on popular worship, but that doesn't mean you should take the novels as actual scriptures.

-Like, God-Demon novels are to orthodox Daoism/Buddhism what the Divine Comedy is to medieval Christian doctrines, except no priests had actually built a Church of Saint Beatrice, while Daoists did put FSYY characters into their temples. By their very nature, the worship that stemmed from these books is not on the same level of "seriousness" as, say, the Tiantai school of Buddhism and their veneration of the Lotus Sutra.

-At the risk of being guilty of the same insertion of Christianity where it doesn't belong: You don't cite Dante's Inferno in a theological debate, nor would any self-respecting pastor preach it to churchgoers on a Sunday.

-Similarly, you don't use JTTW or FSYY as your sole evidence for why something is "disrespectful to Chinese religion/tradition" when many practitioners of said religions won't treat them as anything more than fantasy novels.

-In fact, let's use Tripitaka as an example. The historical Xuanzang was an extraordinarily talented, faithful, and determined monk. In JTTW, he was a caricature of a Confucian scholar in a Buddhist kasaya and served the same narrative function as Princess Peach in a Mario game.

-Does the presence of satire alone make JTTW anti-Buddhist, or its religious allegories less poignant? I'd say no. Should you take it as seriously as actual Buddhist sutras, when the book didn't even take itself 100% seriously? Also no.

-To expand further on the idea of "seriousness": even outside of vernacular novels, practitioners are not beholden to a universal set of strict religious laws and taboos.

-Both Daoism and Buddhism had what we called "cloistered" and "non-cloistered" adherents; only the former needed to follow their religious laws and (usually) took a vow of celibacy.

-Certain paths of Daoist cultivation allow for alcohol and sexual activities (thanks @ruibaozha for the info), and some immortals, like Lv Dongbin, had a well-established "playboy" reputation in folklore.

-Though it was rarer for Buddhism and very misunderstood, esoteric variants of it did utilize sexual imageries and sex. And, again, most of the above would not apply if you weren't among the cloistered and ordained clergy.

-Furthermore, not even the worship of gods is mandatory! You could just be a Daoist who was really into internal alchemy, cultivating your body and mind in order to prolong your lifespan and, ideally, attain immortality.

-This idea of "respect" as…for a lack of better words, No Fun & R18 Stuff Allowed, you must treat all divinity with fearful reverence and put yourself completely at their mercy, is NOT the norm in Chinese religious traditions.

-There are different degrees and types of respect, and not every god is supposed to be treated like the Supreme Heavenly Emperor himself during an imperial ceremony; the gods are capable of cracking a joke, and so are we!

TL;DR: Religions are complicated, and you aren't respecting Chinese religions by acting like a stereotypical Puritan over popular Chinese deities and their fictional portrayals.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Trump’s Tiktok two-step is a lesson for future presidents

I'm about to leave for a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me on Feb 14 in BOSTON for FREE at BOSKONE , and on Feb 15 for a virtual event with YANIS VAROUFAKIS. More tour dates here.

Remember the Tiktok ban? I know, it was ten million years ago (in Musk years, anyway), so it may have slipped your mind, but let me remind you: Congress passed a law saying Tiktok was banned. Trump said he wouldn't enforce the law. The end.

No, really. I mean, sure, there's a bunch of bullshit about whether Trump will pick up the ban again after Tiktok's grace period ends, depending on whether they sell themselves to his creepy wax museum pal Larry Ellison. Maybe he will. Maybe Tiktok'll buy so many trumpcoins that he forgets about. Whatevs.

The important thing here is: Congress passed a (stupid) law and Trump said, "I've decided not to enforce that law" and then that was it:

https://prospect.org/justice/2025-01-31-trump-administration-test-supreme-court-tiktok/

Sure, there's some big rule of law/checks and balances/separation of powers problems here, and there are plenty of laws I'm mad about Trump not enforcing (like the law that says corporations can't bribe foreign governments, say). But this one? Sure, it's fine. The problem with Tiktok is that it invades our privacy in creepy ways, not that it is owned by a Chinese company. I don't want Zuck or Musk or (especially) Trump invading my privacy.

Congress hasn't passed a consumer privacy law since 1988, when they banned video store clerks from telling newspapers about your VHS viewing habits. That's why Tiktok is a problem. Pass that law, and if any president decides not to enforce it, I'll be mad as hell and I'll be right there in the streets next to you, in head-to-toe CV dazzle, with all my distraction rectangles in Faraday pouches, shlepping a placard bearing the Social Security Numbers of every Cabinet member in giant writing.

But the point is, the president defied Congress, which is a thing that Very Serious Grownups told us radicals Joe Biden mustn't do under any circumstances, lest the resulting constitutional crisis tear the country apart, or, at the very least, alienate so many voters that Donald Trump would become the next president.

We let Very Serious Grownups call the shots, and Donald Trump is president. Maybe we should stop listening to Very Serious Grownups?

Look, presidents ignore Congress's laws all the time. The Comstock Act (which effectively bans transporting pornography and contraception) is almost entirely ignored, and has been for generations (though Trump's creepy Heritage Foundation puppetmasters have promised to bring it back). The Robinson-Patman Act hasn't been enforced since the Reagan years, which is a damned shame, because Robinson-Patman would put Walmart, Amazon, Dollartree and Dollar General out of business (Biden started to enforce Robinson-Patman again during his last year in office):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/14/the-price-is-wright/#enforcement-priorities

I'm not trying to say that enforcing (or ignoring) the Comstock Act is the same as ignoring (or enforcing) the Robinson-Patman Act. The Comstock Act is bad, and the Robinson-Patman Act is good. I am capable of making that moral judgment, and I would like to have a president who does the same.

The fear about Trump ignoring the laws and procedures is justified, but not because of the damage he's doing to laws and procedures – it's because of the damage he's doing to the people of this country and the world.

Take the records that Trump has destroyed – vital data about public health and other subjects (thankfully, most of this was saved from destruction by the Internet Archive). The most important fact about that act of destruction is the harm that will result from it, not the failure to follow procedure.

There are plenty of times in which I am OK with people ignoring the law and destroying records. In 1943, Dutch guerrillas bombed the civil registry building in Amsterdam, to keep the records of where Jews and other disfavored minorities lived out of the hands of occupying Nazis. The firefighters on the scene kept their hoses running until any paper that hadn't been burned was reduced to slurry:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1943_Amsterdam_civil_registry_office_bombing

I'm fine with destroying records that wicked, vicious authoritarians would use to harm my neighbors.

Remember when Biden tried to cancel student debt? He could have started off by destroying the records of who owed what, so when the courts overturned his administrative action, it would have been hard or impossible to collect on the debts that were still held on federal books, or whose records the feds had (no, I'm not suggesting that Nazi death camp deportations are equivalent to unjust student debt collections, but if you agree that sometimes it's OK to illegally destroy records, then all we're left with is haggling over the specifics).

Sure, this would have been a constitutional crisis, but, as Ryan Grim says, "It is apparently unconstitutional for the president to instruct the Department of Education to restructure and forgive some student loan debt but it is ok for DOGE chair Elon Musk to just get rid of the whole department. Anywho."

https://twitter.com/ryangrim/status/1888973174819164663?t=Cd8fl4FWjY5zsOlQWZGv4g

Canceling debt isn't forgiving debt. Student borrowers have been preyed upon by colleges and lenders. People who borrowed $79.000 and paid back $190,000 can somehow still owe $236,000 do not need to be forgiven, because (unlike Trump) they haven't sinned. Rather, their debts need to be canceled (like Trump):

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/04/kawaski-trawick/#strike-debt

Trump's shown us what a president should do when the courts get in their way: fight back. Worst case scenario is the court prevails, and a bunch of Fedsoc judges (up to and including the Supreme Court) set binding precedent that reduces the power of the president, which would be, you know, great. Best case scenario: Americans are freed from these crippling, fraudulent debts and, you know, vote for Democrats and against Trump, instead of staying home because they don't feel like the Democrats have their back.

Defying unjust court decisions isn't Trumpian – it's Rooseveltian. Roosevelt (following in Lincoln's footsteps) spent years discrediting and weakening the Supreme Court's power, using his bully pulpit to rob them of authority and build the political will to pack the court, which he was on the brink of doing when the Supreme Court surrendered:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/20/judicial-equilibria/#pack-the-court

Democrats developed an online organizing playbook, and it worked, so Republicans took it, improved on it, and won elections. Republicans have developed a devastatingly effective constitutional hardball playbook. Democrats should steal that playbook and run with it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/18/states-rights/#cold-civil-war

I rang doorbells, made phone calls, and shelled out money for Democrats in the last cycle because I wanted them to do stuff that helps Americans, not because I wanted them to follow procedures. The fact that Trump is building offshore concentration camps and has deported our neighbors to them (to name just one of many cheap dystopian fanfics that Trump is LARPing) should be the kind of five-alarm fire that sent South Korean lawmakers scaling the barricades last month.

This is the kind of crisis where I'd expect Democrats on the Hill, at a minimum, to be refusing to give Trump and the GOP anything. Call quorum on every vote. Debate every amendment. Raise every objection. Vote against everyting. Do not confirm a single appointee. And any elected Dem that refuses to play along? Kick 'em out of the caucus. Oh, we can't afford to do that because we can't afford to lose a single lawmaker? How did that work out with Kirsten Synema and Joe Manchin? Shoulda kicked them out after the first vote, shoulda raised money for any real Dem willing to primary them. Should have shunned them in the hallways and refused to invite them to the Christmas parties. We should do that to Fetterman. Party unity got us nothing under Biden. Party unity got us Trump. Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different outcome isn't actually the formal definition of insanity, but it is nevertheless very, very stupid.

For the past four years, Very Serious Grownups in the Democratic machine kept telling us that we couldn't expect the president to do anything, or Congress to do anything, or the Senate to do anything, because the Republicans would stop them. Or the courts would stop them. Why fight when you know you're gonna lose? Because sometimes, you'll win. And even if you lose, you'll go down fighting.

Better yet, if you lose in just the right way, you'll force Trump's judges to take away powers from the President and the administrative agencies – take away the powers Trump is now wielding like a sledgehammer.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/11/you-and-what-army/#student-debt

[lexithwrites]

first time. (wolfstar)

@wolfstarkinktober2024 | 1792 words | smut | trans/nonbinary sirius | virgin remus

Remus had never done this before, and it was becoming very obvious.

He had fumbled with his buttons when Sirius asked him to take off his shirt, shaking fingers finding each one and trying to pull them apart. He swallowed, and then felt softer hands touch his, covering them and taking over his movements.

"Let me, darling." Sirius said softly, light eyes meeting Remus'. They comforted him immediately and he sighed, nodding in agreement.

Sirius knew what they were doing, just let them take the lead. Remus couldn't take his eyes away from Sirius' face, concentrating on the buttons, the small scrunch of their brow when one button didn't cooperate, the way their hair cascaded over their shoulders, then his eyes went lower and he caught the sight of the garter belt and his mouth went dry. He felt his breath hitch. When Sirius had first walked in wearing it he almost let his knees buckle underneath him. They looked breath taking, beyond anything he'd ever seen before, and Sirius wanted him. Why, he didn't know, but he would be stupid to question it right now. So instead he let Sirius undress him in silence, just allowing himself soft touches of their hip. It made them shiver and Remus smiled.

"I'm sorry about the scars." He whispered and Sirius shook their head.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're beautiful. Always have been." And they pushed the shirt from Remus' shoulders, letting it fall to the floor and expose his chest and arms. Remus wanted to cover up, cover up the frail, awkward body in front of Sirius' perfect one, but he held back. He didn't want to ruin the moment, not tonight. His insecurities could be ignored for tonight. He wanted this, he wanted it so bad it ached in the best way, and Sirius clearly did as well. Sirius smiled up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Jeans as well?" Remus took a moment of pause then nodded, watching Sirius reach down for his belt buckle.

Remus wondered if Sirius was just as desperate for this as he was, if they were just as horny and if their brain was fogged over with desire. He wanted to fall to his knees and bury his face between their thighs for hours, but he'd never done that before. He wouldn't be any good at it. Not yet, anyway. He wanted Sirius to tell him what they wanted, how they wanted it. He'd listen to every single instruction and follow it perfectly if it meant Sirius felt good and enjoyed themselves. That's all Remus wanted. He could care less if he came, even if his cock thought differently. They'd get to him eventually. Sirius, with Remus' jeans now undone, chuckled a little.

"You've been hiding this from me?" Their hand reached into the jeans and Remus' choked out an embarrassing noise as he was cupped through his boxers. He felt his mouth go dry as he tried to form words.

"I...I didn't think it was that impressive." Sirius shrugged.

"I like what I see so far. And what I feel. Come, love." Sirius took Remus' hand this time, and slowly led him to the bed. "I know you're nervous, but it's just me." Sirius told him in a soothing tone. Remus smiled.

"Sorry, I wish I wasn't nervous right now."

"I was my first time, it's okay. I'll make it feel so good, love." And Remus knew they were telling the truth. Sirius made everything better.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at them with wide eyes as Sirius planted themselves in his lap, wrapping their arms around his neck and nuzzling their noses together. "You're safe with me, Moony. Always. Just try and relax."

They were kissing then, soft and slow and deep, just like Remus wanted. He had been told he was an amazing kisser by Sirius, but he feared that was a biased opinion. Either way, Sirius was sighing and rocking down against his bulge as they kissed and that's what mattered right now. Remus felt the wet heat between their legs and he moaned, hands going to their waist and keeping Sirius right where they were. Sirius moaned into his mouth and played with the soft curls at the nape of Remus' neck to make him tilt his head back. Sirius was on his neck in an instant, and Remus felt his hips buck up before he could stop them, and Sirius moaned.

"You love that, don't you?" Sirius fingers curled into Remus' hair as they sucked at the edge of his jaw, and Remus let out a strangled whine. "Good boy, just relax for me. Let yourself feel good with me." Sirius hips were still moving and Remus began to move his along with them. He wanted that friction to stay, that tug in his belly getting stronger as the minutes ticked by. Eventually, he was lying back on the bed with Sirius looming over him, and he stroked their cheek. Sirius, surprisingly, went red at that.

"You're so beautiful." Remus whispered, and Sirius nuzzled their cheek into his palm. "Can you...I want you to..." Remus' words escaped him and Sirius frowned a little

"What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me."

Remus swallowed and licked his lips, which Sirius' eyes followed. "I want you to sit on my face." Sirius suddenly bit their lip and tensed their thighs around Remus' hips.

"Are you sure? We can take it slow."

Remus nodded. "You'll still be in control, right? I'm just lying here." There was a whine from the back of Sirius' throat and they smiled.

"Okay. Lay back." And Remus did as he was told.

Sirius straightened their back and shimmied up his body, thighs settling on either side of Remus' head. They looked down at their boyfriend, seeing the lust in his eyes, and reached down to pull their lace underwear to one side. Sirius exhaled. "Hope you're hungry, my love." They purred, and the moment they were exposed they sank down. Remus stuck out his tongue on instinct, eyes locked on Sirius', and from the moment he felt the soft wetness he moaned. Loudly.

Sirius' breath hitched and they grabbed onto they headboard in front of them for stability. They had done this before, a couple times with other partners, but they had never been as sensitive as they were the first time feeling Remus' tongue against their clit. They bit their lip and watched, and felt, Remus start to explore them. His tongue was soft and curious, licking gently in circles to get used to it and to see if Sirius liked it.

Of course they did, Remus made them burn brighter than the sun and he had no idea. Sirius had only even been this nervous, this turned on, this confident and this desperate all at once for Remus Lupin. No one else even came close to comparing. And they never would.

Sirius gently rocked their hips down and moaned, their head tilting back as Remus seemed to get a little braver, using slow, long licks against their clit and between their folds. "There you go." Sirius nodded in encouragement, hands flexing against the headboard as Remus' tongue dipped inside for a fleeting second. "Oh fuck, can you do that again sweetheart?" Remus made a noise and moved his tongue back, and Sirius felt their eyes roll back into their head as Remus started to tongue fuck them, making them shiver and grind their hips down a little harder. "Remus, oh my god-" Their voice was higher pitched this time, more desperate, like they were begging.

Remus felt his own cock twitch in his jeans and his hands went to Sirius' thighs to ground himself. He didn't want to drop into a space he couldn't get out of, but Sirius' noises were making his brain go fuzzy. He kneaded their thighs and rolled his tongue before using his lips to suck gently at their clit, hoping that felt good as well. From the way Sirius suddenly pressed harder against him it must have. He watched their expressions change over time; that scrunched up face of pleasure to one more relaxed, filled with ecstasy. Remus was doing that to them, Remus was making them feel this good. He could have cum on the spot.

"Keep going, love. Don't stop." Sirius swallowed and finally opened their eyes again, looking down at him. "You're so good, baby. So good, holy shit." Their left hand moved from the headboard down to Remus' hair and they tugged with a lazy smile. "My good boy, doing so well." Remus whimpered and pushed his tongue inside them, catching Sirius off guard and making them whimper as well. "Right there, shit!" Sirius kept a firm hold on Remus' hair and started to fuck his face, rocking and squirming and almost bouncing at one point. They were already so close that it was torturous. No one had ever gotten them off from oral alone, and the idea of it being Remus was turning them on so much they could feel their slick between their thighs, coating Remus' mouth and chin. They tugged again, wanting Remus to look up at them.

"I'm gonna cum, okay? Do you want me to mo-" Sirius didn't even finished their sentence before feeling Remus latch onto their clit and start sucking. His hands wrapped around their thighs and Sirius cried out, covering their mouth so they didn't piss off the neighbours. "Baby-" Remus didn't say anything, just kept using his mouth to get them off, and Sirius starting moaning and whimpering louder and louder behind their hand, feeling their pussy pulse as Remus brought them right to the edge. "Please, please, please!"

Sirius threw their head back the the moment they started to cum but Remus kept them stable. He watched in awe as he felt Sirius cum on his tongue, feeling the wetness seep down his chin. His lashes fluttered, but he refused to let them close. He wanted this moment burnt into his brain, forever. He felt his start to throb uncomfortably in his jeans but he ignored it, moving his tongue and lips until his jaw burned, and only stopped when Sirius flopped over beside him, sitting there dazed and panting.

"You...you've never done that before?" They asked, clearly stunned. Remus just blushed and shook his head.

"No...was I okay?" Sirius let out a laugh and pushed some hair from their face.

"Baby, you've unlocked something dangerous." They suddenly got a look of hunger on their face and their eyes flickered to the very obvious bulge in Remus' jeans. Sirius grinned wickedly. "Your turn, sweet thing."

[parfaitblogs]

bad idea right? ❀ s. reid x reader

in which hooking up with your ex is probably not a good idea... right?

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst/smut (18+ mdni) tags: porn with plot. reader's mentioned wearing a dress. fingering. kind of fade to black p in v. i think im incapable of writing no d/s dynamics so soft dom!spencer my beloved. i don't mention protection but he wrapped it just trust me guys. really awful decisions are made.  word count: 3.9k a/n: i know i KNOW i said im writing fluffy smut but i simply cannot help myself... anyways this has been in the works for far too long (months...) but i have a lot of ideas for this dynamic/pairing so if we want more pls tell me 💗💘💕💕💗 i will do it!!! maybe im already doing it!!!!!💗💘💗💘💓don't fuck ur exes and thank u again for 1k ily

"Hey."

There was a beat. Then another. By the third beat your heart had started stuttering in your chest and your adrenaline-induced activities had caught up to your brain. You were slowly sinking into yourself under his gaze, that probably wasn't scrutinising, but definitely felt that way. Regret pooling in your stomach because yes, this was an absolutely awful idea, and he had clocked it within the twenty minutes it took for you to get here after his last text. 

His last text that did technically say you shouldn't come over, but if you did he wouldn't leave you stranded out in the hall. Such a gentleman, you had thought.

"I said you shouldn't come," he chastised, and your legs wobbled beneath the weight of your regret. 

"You also said I could—"

"—As a courtesy," his voice was firmer than you remembered him ever being, and your heart stuttered uncomfortably in your chest at the sound of it. 

"Well don't add courtesy messages if you don't want me to take them seriously," you retorted, and your arms crossed over your chest. 

He was silent for a few moments, gears turning behind his eyes, deciding if he should send you home or let you in. Then, he was stepping back, and gesturing for you to come inside — and you were.

Admittedly, six months was a long time. Being here at all is risky, and there was that fear of there being a girl sitting curled up on his couch, watching an episode of something Spencer had bribed her to watch. And maybe if you were any more sane, you would not be carefully analysing every inch of his apartment. Searching for — and expecting there to be — someone residing in spaces you had once found comfort in. 

But; no one. Then you decided that thought was stupid, because Spencer Reid was not (stupid), and he wouldn't have asked you to come to his apartment if there was a girl there. 

"Why are you dressed up?" he asked you, eyeing the dress you had on, even as he brushed past you to head into his kitchen. 

"Had a party," you replied, clasping your hands behind your back, watching him walk around his apartment with so much ease. Maybe this was only awkward for you.

"Is that why you messaged me?"

"No. No. I didn't drink," you quickly said, shaking your head, immediately clocking where his own thoughts had wandered off to. 

He nodded his head, leaning against his kitchen counter, rubbing his palms together as he studied the marble countertop, seemingly needing to find his words. "Then why did you?"

Your lips parted, silence settling between you two for a few moments longer, unsure if your internal turmoil from the night you had been having should be something for his ears or not. 

You decided it was. "Everyone's in relationships. And all their partner's were there with them at the party."

"And you were alone."

"Yeah."

He slowly nodded his head, his gaze settling on you again. "You were lonely."

Your shoulders shrugged, your own eyes dropping to the floor as embarrassment crept up your spine uncomfortably. "I missed you."

"Don't."

"What? Miss you?" 

"Yes," he said, voice strained enough for your stomach to flip. "That isn't fair."

"I know."

"You're the one who ended things."

"I know."

He was silent then, his hands dragging down his face, pausing to dig the pads of his index fingers into his eye sockets. He sighed, his arms dropping by his side heavily, eyes returning to you. Again. 

"You can't do this," he grew firmer, the sudden tone of voice causing an uncomfortable dull ache to form in your chest. 

"Do what?" you asked, quietly. 

"Come see me every time you feel lonely."

"I don't come see you every time I feel lonely."

He bore holes into your face, eyes meticulously committing features to memory, before he straightened his shoulders, exhaling through his nose. "Don't make this a habit."

"It won't," you said, quickly, a promise you both knew you couldn't make truthfully.

Hesitantly, he nodded his head towards his couch, and despite the blaring alarm in your brain telling you to just go home and forget about it, your feet carried you over to it. Sinking into the plush of black leather you had sat so many times before, the fabric cold against your legs.

His face softened involuntarily, staring at you, heart achingly vulnerable and small, tucked into the corner of his couch. It almost made it easy to forget the past six months and everything leading up to the breakup. Almost. 

He stayed standing, as a power move or because he was simply awkward, you didn't know anymore. The man you were currently sharing air with did not seem the same as he had half a year prior. That hurt. 

Sitting up straighter, you clasped your hands in your lap, fixating your gaze on the coffee table in front of you. "I'm sorry."

He didn't respond for a moment, seemingly caught off guard by your sudden apology. Then, feet shuffling that indicated he was walking away from the couch, and your heart sank to your stomach. 

"For what?" he asked, his voice gruffer than he had intended. 

Your breath hitched. "Breaking up with you, I guess."

Too many memories filled your mind from what had happened, and you felt the guilt you had suppressed for months crawl its way back up your spine. 

"And you think sorry can make it all okay?" his voice had a hint of bitterness in it, and you couldn't even blame him for it. 

"No. Obviously not," you said, shifting on the couch to turn your head to look at him, fixating on him as he attempted to busy himself with rearranging the books on his desk. "Can you come here, please?"

His movements paused, and he lifted his gaze to you. There was a silent battle between your eyes, before you inevitably won, and he nodded, letting go of the hardback book he was moving and instead walking over to you on the couch. 

"I feel awful. For the way I left," you told him when he found residence on the other end of the couch, the distance technically small, but to you, seemingly massive. 

"You didn't seem upset when you left."

"I was. Please believe me."

He was no longer looking at you, but you were at him, and there was a disapproving expression on his face that told you he simply didn't, despite the quiet, "Okay," that fell from his lips. 

Unsure of what else to say, you let the silence encase you, instead flickering your eyes around the apartment, attempting to pick out minuscule changes he had made since you'd moved out. Nothing insane jumped out to you, other than the lack of your presence. There no longer being a collection of your own books on his bookshelf, brightly coloured trinkets not cluttering the kitchen countertop anymore. Which was fine. Even the items you had left here unknowingly, you hadn't expected to still be residing in his apartment. 

When your gaze settled back on him, you found him staring at you already. Your lips pulled into a small frown, while his parted, breath catching as if about to say something, then stopping. 

"You look pretty," he settled on telling you. And if you were any more stable, maybe your heart wouldn't have flipped in your chest. 

"Thank you," you mumbled, feeling your cheeks burn slightly. 

Despite the fluster such a simple compliment brought you, you couldn't look away. And it seemed neither could he. Staring at each other for ticking minutes, until you were finally breaking the brick wall of tension and standing up. 

"I shouldn't have come," you told him. "You were right."

"I should agree with you," he replied, watching your every movement. Even as you halted your beeline towards his door, confusion creeping up your spine. He had noticed it. 

You turned back to him. "But you don't."

"No. I don't," he agreed. "We ended abruptly."

"I left."

"Yeah."

It had been a huge misunderstanding, in the grand scheme of it all. A misunderstanding you had logically worked out after a week of dwelling on it all, but then had far too much pride to reach out to him again. Instead, allowing the remnants of your relationship to rot away in the back of your mind, never to be touched again. 

Until you were violently reminded just how much you had thrown away that night in a room full of happy people. 

Letting your shoulders soften, you trudged back over to him, standing rather awkwardly in front of him on the couch. Not that it felt awkward. You decided awkwardness was impossible when Spencer Reid stared at you like you were the sun materialised in his living room — the same way he had when you were still with him. And after six months of not seeing him, and an entire awkward conversation later, you finally wondered if anything had actually changed at all.

How you felt about him certainly hadn't. Eyes fixated on him like he was going to disappear if you even twitched, and you had the fleeting thought of kissing him. Which then turned into a recurring thought, until you were actively fighting the thought because this was not your boyfriend and kissing him was quite possibly the worst thing you could ever do. 

But God, did you want to. 

"I resented you for a long time."

You ignored the guilt eating away at your heart, and the hurt that settled in your stomach. You deserved his resent. 

"You don't anymore?" you asked, voice choked up from the thick ball of a sob caught in your throat. 

"No," he shook his head. "I don't know what I feel anymore."

You nodded your own head wordlessly. "That's fair."

He exhaled sharply, and his fingers pressed into the inner corners of his eyes. "You shouldn't be here."

"So you've said."

"No, I mean—" he cut himself off, lifting his gaze back to you. "I have things I want to do, that I will regret."

"With me?" You already knew the answer. 

"Yes," he confirmed anyways. "And we shouldn't."

"We definitely shouldn't," you agreed. 

He stood, dropping his hands by his sides, and you feared for a moment he was going to kick you out, just for the sake of his own sanity. Maybe it would be better for the both of you if he did that. 

He didn't. 

Instead, you learned quite quickly that he was battling the same internal conflict you were. And maybe he was attempting to ignore it; same as you. Maybe he had lost that war and that was why he was acting on those terrifying impulses. 

"I want to kiss you."

You were mostly shocked the words hadn't come from you. But by the time you had registered that fact, you had also registered you were nodding in agreement, followed by your consent, and he then was kissing you. 

And it was like no time had passed at all. 

His lips on your own were as desperate as you remember — even in the quieter mornings he would kiss you like you'd disintegrate beneath him, never to be seen again. And, with matching his desperation, you found his knees buckling as they hit the edge of the couch, and he was coaxing you down onto it with gentle hands on your hips. 

Abiding his physical request, your knees dug into the cushions, on either side of his body, and he was stuttering through breaths, lips detaching from your own. Your protests about it died on your tongue quickly as he kissed down your jaw and over the skin of your neck — delicately, for he had always been keenly aware of how sensitive the vessels and nerves in your neck were. 

"You definitely haven't drank tonight?" he mumbled against your skin once his lips had reached the top edge of your dress.

"No," you confirmed with a shake of your head, and he let out what seemed like a sigh of relief — you didn't know if feeding into that idea was good for you mentally or not. 

His fingers trailed up the length of your spine, your back arching on impulse as goosebumps arose on your skin. Tender hands found the thin straps of your dress, and his head lifted to look at you again. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed out, content flooding over you as he did as he had intended, and you were slipping your arms out of the straps of your dress.

"This is such a bad idea," he mumbled, and all you could do was hum in agreement, for he was still pressing kisses along your skin down past your collarbone. 

Maybe it was the lingering thought that you shouldn't be doing this that egged you on. The knowledge that your friends would probably consider a violent end for you (and him) once they found out. That this was bad, and you were going to regret it the second it was over. 

His hands dropped back to your hips, and you searched for his lips again with your own, kissing him once more. Your dress bunched at your waist with help from Spencer, and hands that grappled at your ass tugged you impossibly closer. 

"Are you actually going to hookup with me on your couch?" you murmured against his lips. 

"Where would you prefer us to be?" he asked you, tilting his head back so he could see you once more. 

"Your bed."

If he disagreed with your suggestion, he hid it behind a nod, tapping your thighs so you could climb off of him. Which, you did, leading him towards his own bedroom, similarly to all the ways you had done it before. He tried not to dwell on that. 

"Have you been with anyone since we broke up?" 

Your voice was filled with an insecurity you wished to burn as you climbed onto the bed. The sheets so familiar you felt like crying. 

"Do you really want the answer to that question?" he asked, positioning himself over you, fingers placed at your waist.

"No," you decided, a response he knew you'd reply with. "But I guess that is an answer within itself."

"I guess," he agreed, head ducking back down to kiss over your shoulders and collarbones. 

"Were they good?"

"I'm not answering that."

"So they were."

He said your name, chidingly, nipping at your skin. "If you want to do this, I need your focus to be here. Not the other people I've had sex with."

"Okay. Sorry."

He only hummed as a response, the hand on your waist dropping past your hips, gently parting your legs and running his fingers up the skin of your inner thigh. 

Everything he did felt hauntingly familiar, and easy. As if the past six months had been nothing more than a bad dream, and the man who was above you, pulling your underwear down your legs and hiking your dress up to your waist, had done this twice in the past week already. 

You'd resonate in that fantasy for as long as you could. 

You squirmed as he brushed a finger through your folds, and he smiled, his mind no doubt reminding him of all the times you had done that before.

"Take your time," you muttered, bitterly, as he repeated the gentle ministration a few more times. 

"I will," he bit back, though the amusement in his eyes as he met your gaze again told you he was similarly as impatient. "I'm just figuring out what makes you feel good."

"You've forgotten?"

"No," he shook his head, the word flying off his tongue as he circled your clit with his finger, with a frustrating expertise. "I'm reminding myself."

"I like being kissed."

He laughed, quietly. Your heart warmed in your chest, while his lips brushed delicately against yours once more. "Thank you for the reminder."

"Of course," you said, and he was then swallowing a moan as he kissed you, pushing a finger into you at the same time. 

His eyebrows knitted together, something you only make out because his lips have tugged into a frown and you were pulling back to peer at him — only to be coaxed back into a kiss by his searching lips. You decided not to ask why he's confused. Or concerned. Or whatever the expression he was making was for. 

"Spencer," you breathed out when he had kept his finger still for too long (in your opinion), and he's quick to mumble an apology and start thrusting his finger. 

Whether he was more conscious of the sounds you were making, or simply just wanted to kiss you, you didn't know. But his lips stayed connected to yours as he fingered you in practiced motions, that you were focussing so closely on. Perhaps too closely, for he was nipping your lower lip when you had stopped actively kissing him back. 

"Is your distraction an indicator of something good? Or do I need to work harder?" he asked you, lifting his head to watch you squirm as he added another finger. 

"No, it's something good. It feels good," you reassured him.

The heel of his palm grazed over your clit, and you whined. So, he did it again. You moaned louder. He curled his fingers inside of you, and you moaned at how overwhelming it all was. He might have slept with more people in between, but you certainly hadn't, and it was becoming all too much, all too quick. 

You were acutely aware of the movement of his own hips on the bed beside you, your lips tugging up in amusement at the desperation he was displaying. Comforted by the fact that you were not alone. 

A particular brush of his fingers upon that spot inside of you cut off your thoughts, and you gasped, jerking your head away. At that, he did it again. And again.

"Spencer—Spencer," you whimpered, brokenly, grappling for any semblance of control over yourself. 

"Mm?"

"I'm gonna come," you told him. An honest mistake, because he was now pulling his fingers out of you, despite your quick protests. "No—what the fuck?"

"Shh," he said through a smile, kissing you to quieten your loud objections. "I want to come with you. Is that okay, honey?"

Oh.

Overwhelmed with a sudden shyness, you nodded your head, cheeks warming, and any opposing words dying on your tongue. "Yes. It is."

In an all too quick motion, he went from fully clothed above you, to fully naked and beside you, you having discarded of your own dress at the same time. Absentmindedly, because you were a little too focused on  what it was you were actually doing, brain running rampant about how awful of an idea it was. 

But then he was shifting your legs open, hand running up and down the skin of your thighs as he positioned himself at your entrance, and you were forgetting all about it. 

In a slow, languorous thrust, he pushed himself inside of you, a low hiss leaving his lips as he stilled, your own eyes fluttering shut, hands balling into fists. 

"This, I forgot," he breathed out, and you felt his hair tickle your shoulder as he rested his head against it. 

"You have an eidetic memory."

"Not for touch. Not like this," he explained, voice strained. "Sorry, sweet girl. Give me a minute."

The pet name had your heart fluttering, and you felt tears sting your vision as the violent reminder that this will never happen again flashed in your mind. You willed that thought away, trying to focus on the feeling of him inside of you, and how good it was in the moment. 

"It's been like twenty," you grumbled, pushing your hips back against his, and a choked laugh left his lips. 

"Seconds, maybe," he answered, a hand dropping to your hips. To still them or ground himself, you didn't know. "Exercise patience, please."

"Forgive me, but you did just stop me from coming."

He bit your shoulder. "Exercise manners too, while you're at it."

At that, you inhaled, before saying in an awfully sweet voice, "Can you please fuck me, Spencer?"

"Was that so hard?"

"Fuck off."

"After I make you come, I will," he answered, tone of voice unbearably innocent. 

A stark contrast to the drag of his hips out of you, and the sharp thrust back in (just to punctuate his point, of course). At its unexpectedness, you gasped, voice cracking and heart somersaulting. 

Every thrust into you was a constant reminder of what you had given up. What you had lost. A string of moans from you so achingly familiar to his ears, and heavy breaths from him making you want to never let this end. 

He was everything, and perhaps your hands were an inch too small to hold all of him. 

As quickly as it had all began, it was over, and you were left in the centre of his mattress, staring up at a ceiling you had intricately dissected with your eyes many times before. 

He had disappeared to his bathroom, assumedly to get clothes for himself, and hopefully something for you and your walk of shame you were no doubt doing in less than thirty minutes time. 

There was a growing sick feeling in your stomach you could at least identify to be anxiety, paired with the gross feeling of regret for your actions. You were never meant to see him again, despite what your heart had wanted. You forced yourself to be an adult about this, to cut him off. Your friends had pathetically changed his contact name to don't answer on a night out for their own personalised reminder of what talking to him would ensue. Why didn't you fucking listen?

He returned from the bathroom, a pile of clothes you had forgotten you'd ever even left here in his hands. You wiped the sides of your face with the backs of your hands, fluttering your eyelids to cut off anymore tears, sitting up.

"You should probably go," he said. If there was anything left of your heart to shatter, he just did.

"You're kicking me out so soon?" you asked him, failing at keeping your tone of voice light. When he hesitated in a response, you discovered why you no longer let your heart speak for you. You cracked a small smile, shook your head, and muttered, "Kidding." 

He didn't need to know you were subconsciously begging him to let you stay.

You stood, albeit on shaking legs, and took the clothes he was offering you. Pulling them on under such a watchful gaze was almost embarrassing, even as he busied himself with stripping the sheets from his bed to avert his attention. He was still keeping note of your presence in his space. 

"I—um, bye, Spencer," you stammered, throat closing up with every passing minute. 

He looked back at you. "I'll see you out."

"No," you were quick to deny him. "It's okay, I know where the door is. I'll see you around. Maybe. Probably not." Stop talking.

"Yeah. Maybe," he agreed with no real sincerity. "Goodbye."

"Bye," you said, again, hesitating to leave behind the remnants of an even more destroyed relationship. 

Though, you had to.

And as you left, you discovered that yes. Everything between you two had changed.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby [part 2]

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution: NOT PROOFREAD oh and angst hehe]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

[tags: @luujjvi @c-lunette @mokisano @ghostdoodlen @wildfire153 @anonymousewrites @bewitchedbymadness @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @22carolina08 @original-person]

[remember if you want to keep in touch with a particular series I write, let me know in comments or messages you want to be tagged! you will only be tagged once unless specified that you want to be tagged till the end of a particular series!]

(also once again, apologies if alastor’s last name isn’t actually altruist qwq it’ll stick till the end of this fic but I’ll try not to mention it as much)

For the first time in years, you feared being in heaven.

Not that you felt unsafe, just that you felt incredibly uncomfortable seeing your serial killer dad who's now a demon be invited to be in the place where light and goodness is it's main foundation.. even reassuring yourself that it was temporary didn't calm you down when you were flying away from him. For your own sake you even avoided where the welcoming was happening.

Ahh but.. it also didn't help that he was following you around after the show without you knowing.

After the angels had performed their song to welcome in the princess of hell, her apparent partner, and-- him.. everyone sort of went their separate ways and the visitors from below started to relax in their new yet temporary places of stay. You felt a bit of relief when you assumed Alastor would also be setting himself in to relax as well.

During heaven's performance you decided to take a breather at a local coffee shop, one where you thankfully always had a spot there where you could hide away from the huge windows of the cafe.

Although right after that, unbeknownst to you at the time, Alastor was looking for you, but obviously pretended as if he was looking for a good bite to eat.. unfortunately for him he had to behave and he couldn't eat a living walking thing until after they came back home.

Oh how bummed out he was.

You were in a far corner inside the shop, as mentioned before anyone that was able to look in through the windows wouldn't be able to see you since you were out of view. Drinking your favorite beverage that the shop offered and eating a filling snack to relax your body and mind. Safe to say you were now more in touch with your feelings and weren't overly panicked as you once were.

'Why is he here.. is he an advisor to the princess? a companion?.. some kind of servant?.. she's really young though, perhaps she's ward to him or something.. but she has her.. dad.. and I'm sure he must be alive still.. ' You thought, different theories and ideas passing by in and out your head trying to make sense of the situation.

'perhaps.. he's here to see me?..' you hoped, then scolded yourself right after,

'nono.. I can't be wanting that.. sure he raised you but he's a monster. he killed you, _____. get a grip..' you sighed deeply while massaging your temples in frustration 'even if he seemed to not.. have meant to do that. he tried to kill someone else anyway, that poor man could've died instead of you.' you tried to reason with yourself, coming to a single conclusion in the end.

Eyes glued to your drink. staring at it with intensity.

"I regret nothing." you claimed to yourself in a low mumble, not enough for anyone close to hear.

Ahh.. but you did miss him very much.. the version of him that you grew up with at least.

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

You were in your warm and humble home with your father. It was a fairly cold night with rain dropping onto the roof of your home yet the warmth of the house seemed to make the cold seem almost cozy to you.

Your small footsteps could be heard running around the house, as your little seven year old self ran around you seemed to be giggling uncontrollably with a peculiar circular item in your hand.

"No running in the house _____, remember what I told you." Alastor exclaimed in slight irritation as he could hear you from afar while he was cleaning up the table from the dinner you two just had, he started slightly missing the times when you didn't know how to walk and when you simply just blabbered baby nonsense.. he definitely doesn't miss the sleepless nights of baby crying though.

You huffed and puffed as you then plopped the item on the sofa, it was a disk, a record. You then climbed yourself up and once your little body landed on the cushions you then picked yourself up once more to then grab the disk and turn to the small table right beside the sofa where a large phonograph rested on.

"Papa!" you exclaimed, "Papa! Music music!.." you pleaded, your little voice begging to once again turn on the music playing machine.

Alastor faintly chuckled at your little demands, amusing how such a small thing dares to command but nonetheless he found it silly at how you tried. "Yes yes my dear, I'll be right there." He then set the last few dirty dishes away to be cleaned soon since he couldn't say no to listening to some tunes before bed.

You smiled brightly as your little feet playfully tapped on the cushions, almost jumping. Noticing your developing excitement Alastor hurried over to you.

"Ah-ah-ahh, no jumping on the sofa my dear. I'm excited as well but I can't have you break your little head open, that'd be no fun at all!" Well.. that and he didn't wanna ruin his cushions, but nonetheless he cared for your wellbeing the most even if he wasn't fond of admitting it.

His hands gently took the disk from your hands, carefully setting the disk on the phonograph to have it play your favorite tunes. Once you two heard the amazing first few notes of jazz was when Alastor settled down beside you on the sofa and you started clapping in delight.

Alastor looked at you almost fondly, letting out a small huff of delight at your reactions. Your innocence seemed to be something that contained him from wanting to continue his murder spree, although his bloodlust always wins in the end, he seems to always willingly pause his life for you.

Plus, he loves jazz just as much as you do.. why would he miss out on this?

Your fit of giggles dwindled down but didn't stop, in a sudden burst of energy you jumped off the sofa and then started dancing similarly yet obviously a bit more goofy to how you've seen couples and single dancers dance in the nights of Mardi Gras or just parties your father took you when he would be invited. Your little dance moves seemed to be fiddled with confidence yet they were so off from what you were trying to attempt, nonetheless you were happy, and that's what Alastor secretly liked to see.

"Dance with me papa dance with me!" you pleaded again, your smaller hands grabbing his larger one and tugging at it, trying to get him to stand up.

"_____ darling no tugging, besides I just sat down my dear and I'm exhausted." He sighed, his constant smile always present yet he was visibly a bit tired from the day he had.

But oh how you persisted, and how darn adorable you were as a kid. "But papaaa!.. pretty please! I wanna dance how you and that singing lady did the last time we went on those big loud places!"

"Parties, dear." he corrected you, but let out a long sigh and got up. Because no matter how tired he was or how annoyed he seemed to be he didn't mind keeping you happy.

So that's what he did, he danced with you. Swinging you, twirling you around to the melody and the beat, your cheers of glee and uncontrollable laughter motived him to keep up with your excitement. Not only that but your smile, genuine and pure, it was what he needed to get himself to match your energy. Jazz music was what always connected you two and it always brought you together no matter what.

At the end of the song Alastor ended it by gently throwing you up in the air and catching you, letting you get your last giggles out. You both laughed together, your bond ever growing stronger. You truly did tame this bloodthirsty killer without even trying or knowing, of course you were too young to know.

Once the giggle frenzy ended you both finished your dancing with a long sigh, the phonograph ending it's segment. You then suddenly yawned and rested your head in the crook of his neck over his shoulder, snuggling for warmth and for a sudden need to sleep.

"Seems like my little fawn needs sleep now, almost past your bedtime young lady." Normally he'd scold you a bit more strictly as he usually did, but seeing as how you were basically ready to fall into a pile of dreams he just felt no need to do that.

"Sorries papa.. I forgot.." your little words muffled by your face hidden in his neck.

Alastor was never one for being touched, let alone hugged or snuggled. Oh but he had no right to complain, he's had you this close since you were a baby.. to him this just felt normal now.

Of course no one but you could be this close to him, you're his little girl after all.

"No need to worry, my dear." He stopped in front of your bedroom, carefully opening the door with a creak following after. With careful footsteps he walked towards your bed, pulling the blanket away to then gently place you on your cozy sheets with care.

Alastor gently moved any misplaced hairs away from your face as he then pulled your soft and warm blanket up to your neck. Your sleeping face reassuring him.

"Sweet dreams sweetheart." His usual smile softening a bit more before backing away and slowly heading towards the door of your room, lingering for a few extra seconds to take one last look at you before slowly closing the door and heading off to bed himself.

After the click of the door closing can be heard, you mumbled "Goodnight papa.." with a smile, even if in the end Alastor didn't get to hear it.

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

You missed him, dearly.

A weight fell on your chest, your eyes begging to form tears. You missed when you had that childhood innocence, when you didn't know what he was capable of, when he was nothing but a saint to you.

It still hurt after all these years, you thought he was a good man.. a bit strict, blunt, a bit too true to himself and definitely peculiar but.. the Alastor that raised you would never do that. Until you were obviously proven otherwise.

Oh but I guess you were too into your reminiscing that you didn't notice the background gasps and small shrieks of surprise and fear, and you didn't yet feel the eventual stares and eerie presence right in front of you.

"What don't you regret, my dear?"

You choked on your drink in surprise almost spitting it out,

that fucking radio voice again.

For heaven's sake how did he find you?? He couldn't have seen you through the windows. Did he follow you??.. did you just not notice.. Oh geez maybe getting used to having your guard down during all your years in heaven definitely didn't help with this situation.

You continued coughing on your drink, even punching your chest a bit to get that last good cough out. The radio demon pulled the chair in front of you to sit across from you, not waiting to ask permission.

To him he didn't need to, he's your father after all.

Once you calmed down you immediately avoided eye contact, only giving him a once second glance to confirm it was him in hopes your ears were playing a trick on you-- they weren't.

"How.. how'd you find me.." you mumbled in slight fear.

"Oh how would I not! Sweetheart I'm your father of course, as your father I must have those parental instincts.. I always know where you are!" he exclaimed, seemingly proud of this.

"I'm guessing those 'parental instincts' didn't kick in when you stabbed me, huh." you spat with attitude, unafraid to be rude to him with so much sin he's committed.

A sharp static sound came from him, as if in slight shock at the disrespect and comeback you gave. "Watch the attitude young lady, you're still an Altruist you know."

You scoffed, hating at how indifferent you felt about your last name.

"Not by blood though.."

"I raised you, don't forget that." he spat back, starting to get irritated.

"And because of that I owe you?"

"Yes, yes indeed! Smart girl you are."

You scoffed at his response, finally getting the guts to look at him in the face. His appearance frightened you, disgusted you even.

Is this truly the man that raised you?

"As a matter of fact, I actually don't." you crossed your arms in annoyance and a huff. Your eyes couldn't help but to slowly drift to off to the people behind him and you see fellow angels you know continue to stare in awe or fear, of course at Alastor. With all eyes on you and mostly him it made you feel a little embarrassed. You cowered down a bit and your wings went over your head and shoulders a bit as if to hide you behind a 'curtain' of sorts.

Alastor obviously noticed this, but could care less about the stares.

You sighed, "Look, Alasto--"

"I think you mean to call me 'father'." he interrupted as he obviously seemed a bit sassy about it. "Even 'dad' is just simply fine and dandy with me!"

"No, I can't," you frowned, wishing you could "I won't. Not after what you did to me, to that man that night, and to every other poor soul you hurt."

Your face slowly scrunched up in disgust "You don't deserve my forgiveness, my mercy."

In embarrassment and feeling tears want to shed you grabbed your drink and got up to walk out, before you could get past Alastor though he grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Uh-- hey.. let go--"

"I didn't mean to do what I did, my dove." His voice turned into a weird version of gentle, almost uncharacteristically gentle. "I never intended to take your life away."

He sounded genuine.

Could he?.. Would he?..

Maybe, just maybe--

"No." you spat, "Maybe you didn't mean to hurt me, but you definitely meant to hurt others. That's something I can't forgive and I'm sure your victims wouldn't neither." you glared at him, setting your foot down. "I refuse to call you my father, not until I know that you repent for your sins but knowing you I highly doubt that." You snatched your wrist away and for a slight second you stopped caring about what others thought when they'd see this "Besides, you killed me two weeks after I turned eighteen.. don't even include the years that passed since the 30s and present time so clearly you can't control me anymore old man."

But Alastor wouldn't go down that fast nor easily.

His sharp smile widened, you felt immense dread.

"Oh little one, no matter how far you are or how much you try to disown me you are forever connected to me. I made you who you are and you can try to run and fly off however long you want but in the end you're tied to me whether you like it or not. Even in death."

He seemed deathly serious with his statements so much so that you could've sworn you could see his shadow giggling and smirking in a way that seemed even worse and more than evil.

Your breath quietly hitched in fear in noticing this to the point where it even forced you to take a step back. He let out a sinister chuckle before you couldn't help but speed out of the shop and flew out.

You couldn't handle him, he was shameless when showing this side of him.. how could he be this shameless and normal?? How could he act like this and be proud about it? He killed people and doesn't regret it, you being the only exception just didn't feel right and it wasn't fair!

Not to you.

He may have been able to silently control you and vaguely manipulate you to believe he was anything but a bad person back when you were alive and young but now your eyes are wide open and so is your heart.

You have such a bad feeling about this whole thing, he was up to no good he just couldn't be-- he had to be using the princess as an excuse to do something shitty.

Good thing you had plenty of connections, if you just played your cards right...

Hey.. wasn't there something about a court meeting happening soon?

On the other hand Alastor stayed sitting there still chucking devilishly, his intentions and true feelings smeared and unclear.

With a snap of his fingers a cup of black coffee appeared and he began drinking it with a sense of casual glee and eyes closed in delight. Until he felt eyes on him, two nearby to be exact. He opened one eye to look at the angels staring at him and they both seemed like more biblically accurate angels, both having one eye and all. The radio demon shot them an evil grin.

"Oh adolescents these days, rebellious aren't they." He cackled before going back to drinking his coffee, the angels creeped out by his interaction soon scurried away from him.

The fear. He enjoyed it, just not really from you.

(thank you all who asked for part 2!! of course I had to deliver since you all really wanted it and honestly I love adding flashbacks to memories Alastor and the reader had when they were alive, makes their ending on earth just that more painful (as if it wasn't clear I love angst). Honestly I don't mind making more parts for this! If the demand is consistent and you guys still want to keep up with it I have a few ideas to keep this going! Once again thank you so much for reading!! Now I must finish writing for other stories lolllll!)

(p.s: i highly recommend listening to any mitski song while reading this I think it fits well especially with the flashback scene hehe)

[yanderismo]

Yandere Platonic Superman Concept/Idea (?)

BRO, BRO, I DON'T KNOW IF I LOVE OR HATE MY MIND FOR GIVING ME IDEAS THAT I'LL NEVER START OR FINISH. But okay, I have an idea for a platonic yandere Superfam, maybe it involves Batfam or the entire DC universe. I think this is more platonic yandere Superman. Let's go. (using the translator, be kind to me please 😭) 

— Imagine that you are originally from the Injustice universe. You were a neutral young/teen heroine who wasn't at all interested in siding with Batman or Superman. Well... that neutrality of yours had consequences, and now, somehow, Superman and Batman were in a bloody tug of war to get you on their side. And you are the cable they are selfishly pulling. And one day that cable would break, and that's what happened to you, you broke it. So broken that I would consider it irreparable. 

— But luckily for you (bro, are you lucky?), after so much physical and mental suffering, you ended up in a way that I won't explain, in the original DC universe. In other words, no superheroes is crazy tyrants. Too bad you don't know that (yet).

— You were living as if the world was a danger to you (just like it was in Injustice). But you discovered that you were REALLY in a different universe or timeline when you met Lois Lane, the woman who drove Superman insane after her death. And it shocked you, you thought maybe you had gone back in time. And as reckless as it was, you felt hope that you could stop the future of Injustice from happening, stop Lois Lane from being murdered! After all, you were still a hero, even if you had probably lost half of your original universe's neurons.

 — So you made a decision. You decided to protect Lois Lane! You practically become her protective shadow. Being noticed wouldn't do any good, and for SO FEAR of being confronted by Superman/Clark for apparently stalking his wife, you stopped watching her when Clark showed up and you went back when Clark left. (In your head, this Superman is the same Superman from Injustice, just before Lois' death happened). You were wary as hell of all the heroes. Anyway, a lot of trauma caused by Injustice.

— And I believe that Lois, even if she was a civilian, would notice that she was being watched (or maybe you're just not very good at stalking because you're a very young heroine). Whatever it is. Lois noticed and she became cautious (she is a journalist, there are many people who may not like her to the point of committing atrocities), as you could be a threat to her life. Although you haven't revealed yourself as any threat so far.

 — But let's suppose there were events in which she was in danger (actually, it was just something like shelves falling, preventing her from being run over, preventing some rabid dogs from biting her, small things), events in which you managed to remain hidden, however Lois knew it was You, her strangely protective stalker. Lois was trying to know your intentions and work it out for herself, so she didn't say anything about it. If this is something much more than she can handle, Clark can always lend a little help. 

— But on another one of those times when she was in danger, you desperately saved her (the situation was quite dangerous, more than normal), asking if she was okay and everything. Lois was surprised, you were surprised. Before you know, the idea of staying in the shadows went down the drain. You were almost begging (you were begging) her not to tell anyone that you were persecuting her (protecting her), you didn't want her to report you to some authority (that would only hinder your mission) or worse, report you to Superman. You said, stammered, that you were just protecting her. Wanting to make sure Lois didn't feel threatened and report you. 

— The desperation, the panic in your voice, seemed too young for Lois to feel comfortable. You were like a scared child, you looked very much like just a scared child, and that made Lois uncomfortable but at the same time... motherly. If you wanted to hurt her, you would have done it already. You at least accomplished one thing: making Lois not feel threatened by you.

 — The other thing you couldn't do was stop Lois from telling Clark about you. Look, I'm sure Lois didn't mean it, it's uncomfortable to be watched almost every day, but also, since she discovered you, she's been quite worried about you.

 — And Clark is all worried, like, "What?? My wife is being stalked??? Oh wait, my wife is being stalked and protected. Well, that's still very worrying, I'm definitely going to check it out for myself." Furthermore, Lois insisted that he be gentle when approaching you. And Lois saying this to him made him even more intrigued. 

— He tried to approach you just as Clark Kent, just to know how you would react around a seemingly civilian person, think of it as a method to read your character (he didn't want to confront you as Superman in a careless way. After all, who wouldn't Does he act nice or change to a more pleasant personality around Superman?)

— Needless to say, Clark was surprised and confused when you looked at him like he was the greatest terror of your life before simply running away from him. He recognized that look, only villains who were traumatized after a confrontation against him have that look (but the you look was much, much worse than that). That day, you didn't chase Lois.

 — Clark suspected you knew his secret identity. There is no longer any reason for you to have reacted like this. 

— lol, that day Lois noticed the absence of the feeling of being watched and scolded Clark for scaring you. Although it wasn't his fault, he apologized. He really didn't mean to scare you ;( You were gone for a few days after that. But of course, you still had to protect Lois in her everyday life. Even if you were scared. 

— Anyway, it didn't matter how softly, friendly Superman approached you next time. You ran, or at least tried to run. Do you really want to bet on who is the fastest? He easily caught you and held you by your forearm. And that was enough to make you scream, cry, struggle and finally, shrink as much as possible.

— And Superman was all confused, he wasn't even hurting you or squeezing you hard. His voice was also friendly. If anything, it made him even more worried. Add the fact that you appear to be very young and his paternal instincts kicked in. 

— To his surprise, you pulled out a knife. Something like that couldn't hurt Superman, of course not. But who said the knife was meant to hurt him? Let's say you picked up the knife and tried to slit your own throat as a last resort escape. (What did you go through with Superman from Injustice to the point that you tried to commit suicide just to escape him?) 

— Superman was surprised and then horrified. He immediately knocked you unconscious before you cut deeper into your throat. Now with you unconscious, you seemed more vulnerable and fragile than you should have been. Now he understood why Lois was worried about you. (You know, if Batman can adopt multiple children, why couldn't Superman...? You seem like a good kid and even Lois agrees with that. Conner and Jon would definitely like to have a sister) 

— Superman wondered what happened to you that made you reach the point where death was a usable route. He wanted to question you personally, but the moment he confirmed that you knew his identity (you acted the same way when he approached you as a civilian. He was the only one to receive this reaction from you and no one else), this matter became the subject of the Justice League. Discovering the identity of a superhero and pursuing someone close to that superhero was not going to be taken lightly. Who's to say you don't also know the identities of others? Although Superman wants to deal with you alone, he doubts he'll get any information out of you with you yelling and screaming. So he took you to the justice league. 

— Batman can definitely help you solve this.

(Imagine the anguish it would be to probably have to get used to people having the same appearance and the same voice as your captors in Injustice. Imagine them acting all soft after finding out you come from a universe where the heroes are corrupt and broke you😩)

Notas: I leave the rest to you. Or to any author who wants to use this idea (I beg you, some author write a Yandere platonic Superman/Superfam fic😭 They could even add other platonic Yanderes like Batfam, it would be so interesting 🙏😭)

(I just realized that the one who acted the most Yandere was Reader herself, lol)

[16wolke11]

Double Trouble - Franco Colapinto + Paul Aron

A/N Someone save the boys from Alpine, they are suffering from the curse Oscar left (or dodged?)

WORDS: 6707 It wasn't planned to be that long...

WARNINGS: NSFW (threesome/oral ->f receiving/fingering (anal)/double penetration(both holes/protected sex)

____

Entering the Paddock of the Miami International Autodrome still feels unreal when I take the first steps in it this morning. Being an F1 fan since I was a little child, making it just a bit more amazing and even though I thought I would never experience it, here I am. Amazed by my surroundings, spotting more and more things that make my heart flutter happily. Until I stumble into someone.

"Watch out." A voice with a heavy accent, hands holding onto my arms to keep me up and not embarrass myself even more by falling to the ground. I look up and for a second, I am stunned. Franco Colapinto is right in front of me, eyes scanning me like he fears that he just hurt me by grabbing me by the arms.

"Oh god, I am sorry." I apologise, stepping back and out of his touch, feeling how I blush. Great, not even five minutes in and I already managed to run into a driver quite literally. Well, I wanted to meet them, but not like that, not by making myself a laugh of the paddock.

"Don't worry, nothing happened." Franco reassures me, his head tilting slightly to the side, eyes drawn to the paddock pass around my neck. It's full of different cards, giving me access to different areas on the paddock and when his eyes are back on my face, he looks like he is thinking if he should know me from anywhere. Like I am a celebrity visiting for the first time, granted that Miami is an obvious spot for that, and he has to know me because of it.

"Where are you heading so quickly?" He then asks and I do hesitate a second before I answer.

"Alpine." I tell him and immediately his eyes light up.

"I can show you the rest of the way." Franco offers me and even though I already spotted the building in the distance, I wouldn't mind some company. If someone told me before that the first person I met in the paddock would be Franco Colapinto and that he is willingly talking to me, I would have accused them of a lie.

"That would be nice." I smile at him and get a big one in return. Franco asks me what my name is, introduces himself even though that isn't necessary and we are almost at the Alpine hospitality, when he asks me:

"Soo, tell me what you are doing..."

His question is interrupted by a screech of my name, making me flinch slightly. Franco frowns, eyes finding the person at the front door of the hospitality making stressed gestures at me to come over. I am just a trainee and should probably go over to Kai, my boss for the weekend, as quickly as possible.

"Sorry, have to go." I apologise to Franco, who just waves at me and then I walk over to my boss. He is looking at me like I just did something bad and I know he doesn't want me to be here. Believing that women shouldn't work anyway, but my instructor talked the company into letting me come with him. Granted, I did a lot of the brainstorming for our upcoming tasks.

"Where the hell were you?" Kai hisses at me with a lowered voice, eyes flickering around to check if there are any eyes on us. I glance at my watch, showing me I still have around five minutes left before our appointment, knowing my short conversation didn't do any damage to me.

"I am still on time." I tell, trying to stay confident around him, a tip my instructor gave me. If I am not bothered by his behaviour, he might get frustrated, give up and search for a new target. Not nice as well, but better than him terrorising my days.

"You are on time if I say so." He squints his eyes at me, and I just want to make a remark, when two more people join us.

"Good morning." They greet us, we say hello back and then we chat for a short time, exchange names and they ask us if the trip was fine. Alpines' PR team contains two women and I am pretty sure my companion isn't happy with it, but for the sake of the job, he acts like it.

"We thought of splitting the drivers between the current ones and the reserve drivers. Would that be okay?" One of the asks and I can feel the eyes of my boss on me. Kai is probably debating with himself if he should cause a scene, but then acts like he is a reassuring boss for me.

"You think you can handle that?" He asks, a hint of a threat in his voice and I just straighten my back, looking at him.

"Sure, I know exactly what we planned." I probably know better than he does, with me being the one creating many of the questions for the outline of this interview. We nod at the PRS and one of them asks my boss to follow while the other waves me over.

"Don't mess this up." He hisses in my ear, making it look like, with a pat on my shoulder, he is just wishing me good luck. I roll my eyes and walk over to the friendly PR. This is going to be so much more pleasant.

"So, we planned an hour, we can either do thirty minutes each or both together?" She offers me and with knowing the personalities of the reserve drivers, I ask her back.

"Will half an hour be enough for Franco's yapping?" For a moment, she just looks at me and I fear I overstepped a border, before she just starts laughing, making me grin.

"Probably not." She then tells me and I can only imagine. If Franco starts talking about something he likes, he isn't going to stop easily. "Let's do it with both of them. Sometimes being with Paul stops him from babbling too much." She offers and I nod at her. Then she opens a door, reprimands the boys for something, and tells them to behave. "All yours." She mutters before leaving me alone.

Just when I enter the room, I spot Franco and Paul sitting on one of the couches. Franco's face pulls into a grin when he spots me. "Well, hello there." I greet him and Paul, tell them my name, before sitting down on the opposite couch, placing my backpack on the ground.

"Where did we stop? I think you wanted to tell me why you are here." Franco asks me, relaxing against the backrest of the couch, acting like our conversation wasn't stopped a few minutes ago.

"Exactly." I say, beginning to prepare to tell them what this is about, when Paul speaks up.

"Whatever it is with Franco here, I am not going to be able to say a word." He huffs and I frown. The Estonian's eyes flicker between Franco and me and I feel slightly discouraged.

"Oh, your press officer said it would be better that way." I hesitantly speak up, trying to find a solution, "But we can still split the time between you two if you prefer that?" I ask them, specifically looking at Paul, who seems to have the bigger issue with the situation.

"Nope, I was promised an hour, so I get an hour." Franco pouts, arms crossed in front of his chest, making Paul sigh. Poor PR, which has to deal with them every weekend or for every event they attend. Paul looks at Franco, then at me, before nodding his head.

"Fine, but only if you shut up from time to time." Paul shoves Franco, who just laughs, shoving Paul back, making me smile at both of them.

"Not promising that." Franco grins, but then the boys settle down, both looking at me curiously.

"Okay, so I am here with a publisher. We want to create a children's book about F1. How a journey to it could look, the difficulties and the good things." It will follow the amazement of a child falling in love with the sport, wanting to do the same, going karting, making their way up and facing the downs until they reach the top.

"Isn't that too heavy for young kids?" Paul asks, probably thinking about the rough side of the sport. The issues both he and Franco faced during that process and that just reaching F1 doesn't mean that you will drive. Both of them are reserve drivers and no one knows if they will ever have a fair chance in F1.

"We plan on doing two versions, one lighter and one heavier one for older children." I explain, because I thought about the same thing as he did. Some topics just shouldn't be covered when it is a book for small children. In the version for the older kids, we could cover the downsides at least a little bit.

"To make it as accurate as possible, we want to speak with many different drivers and will probably try to reach out to other teams as well." I explain further. Alpine was just the first team to reach back out to us, but we are also in talks with other teams, hoping to get a broad variety of drivers to contribute to this. "Today is for the basics and then we will reach out to you for the details, little Easter eggs to show who the story belongs to." Things like numbers on the kart, belongings of the drivers, like Seb Vettel having his teddy on the kart, special helmets and other stuff that will show which driver the story talks about in the illustrated part.

"Any questions?" I ask the boys, but they just shake their heads, sitting comfortably in front of me.

"Not yet." Franco tells me and I nod.

I ask them if I can record from now on, not wanting to type everything done right now, to be able to fully concentrate on the conversations. They give me the go and then we talk. About how they discovered F1, how they convinced their parents to try, and what it was like growing up different from other children. About the ups and downs they faced and the points where they wanted to give up.

We laugh together, it gets quiet during the heavier themes, but it feels like bonding. They add to each other's stories if they experienced the same thing or tell if they had a different path. Time feels like it is flying by and we do a quick water break, mate for Franco, before we settle down again.

"And what about you? How did you get into F1 or your job." Franco asks me back after I was the one asking them questions for this whole time. He looks genuinely interested and Paul also wants to know the answer.

"If we talk about us, strip our souls, you should tell us a bit about yourself." Paul says, emphasising the strip, almost making a blush creep to my cheeks.

"Spill all the dirty secrets." Franco whispers, leaning forward, elbows placed on his thighs. The atmosphere shifts and my heart stumbles. This conversation doesn't feel as casual anymore, but rather suggestive. I clear my throat, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.

"I would like to keep the rest of this professional." I manage to choke out, fingers playing with each other. Not knowing what else to do, how to even react to something like this and then I wait. The boys exchange a glance, Paul nods slightly, before Franco answers.

"We can work with that."

We just continue from that point on and even though the boys still answer my questions without hesitating, something has shifted. I feel their eyes on me constantly, the lingering stares on my body, how Franco licks over his lower lip while looking at me, how Paul barely looks away anymore and I don't know if I like their attention or not. When the door opens, it kind of breaks the tension in the room.

"Everything okay in here?" The PR from earlier asks, glancing at the boys, before looking at me again. "Yeah, we just wrapped it up." I tell her, clicking on the Dictaphone to end the recording. She lifts one of her eyebrows, looking from the boys to me and back to them.

"I'm surprised I don't have to save you." She tells us, making me grin, "Me too." I thought I would be talked against the wall, but the conversation with them was rather pleasant.

"Oh, come on. We aren't that bad." Franco huffs, again that adorable pout on his lips, before Paul adds, "...sometimes." Then there is just laughter for a moment and I love that it is so relaxed in here.

"Can we stay, or do we have anywhere else to be?" Paul asks, making the PR frown in question.

"Why?"

"She just wanted to tell us how she ended up in F1, or more, her job." Franco tells her and now I am the one looking confused. I wanted what? Yes, they asked me, but I never said I would tell them anything.

"You want to listen to someone else talking?" She asks the boys and Franco just groans.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Paul grumbles, hands gesturing like he learned it in Italy during his time at Prema.

"Fine, you don't have anything to do in the next hour, but that includes your food break." She tells them and both of the boys nod, "That's okay."

That's my cue to speak up. "Well, but I might have to leave." I tell them, making both heads whip around to face me.

"Why?" Franco asks like I just have insulted him personally and I gesture to my work stuff.

"Because I have to work?" I tell them, knowing I should probably transcribe the information as soon as possible to get the follow-up questions ready.

"Oh, your boss is still interviewing with the other boys, I am sure he doesn't mind you staying here." The PR pipes up and I don't have anything to defend myself, especially not with Paul and Franco staring at me.

We do talk about my way to F1, how I ended up with that publisher, the fact that I know Paul longer than Franco and some random facts. They do throw in suggestive comments from time to time, but with every bit, I can handle them better. Franco persuaded me into trying some mate, laughing at my face when the first sip was too bitter for me and somehow I ended up sitting between both of them.

Some subtle touches here and there, both of their shoulders touching mine, making me feel small but somewhat safe between them. Franco playing, or as he said, investigating, the bracelets on my wrist, Paul's fingers brushing over my neck occasionally and somehow the temperature in the room gets higher and higher.

I don't even know what I am doing, what they are doing, but it doesn't scare me too much. My body acting on its own, one of my hands is placed on Franco's thigh, while my head rests on Paul's shoulders. We just continue chatting, but I think because we are in public, they don't try to go any further.

But when my phone rings, the bubble pops. I flinch out of that cuddly state, letting the hands of the boys fall off my body when I stand up quickly to reach for my phone. Of course, it's Kai.

"Where are you?" He barks at me and I flinch. All of the relaxed feelings leave me in seconds. "I want to talk about the interview results now!" He demands and I let my shoulders hang. "Will be there in a second." I promise, get snapped at with a "Hurry up," before he hangs up.

Hastily, I search for my things, making sure I don't forget anything, even though I just placed the list of questions and the recorder on the table. Without me noticing, the boys stand up, coming near me.

"Everything okay?" Paul asks, catching my phone when I flinch and let it fall out of my hands. Franco is positioned behind me, hands carefully placed on my arms, like he is trying to calm me down.

"Yeah, just my boss." I stutter, nothing left from that confident behaviour. "He is an asshole." Franco huffs and I know he is right, but he is still the only one from my workplace here and kind of responsible for me. His fingers brush up and down my arms and I look over my shoulder, meeting his worried eyes.

"Sorry, I have to leave." I excuse myself and see that he isn't happy with my decision. Before I even know what he is doing, Franco leans down, kisses my cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment, before he pulls his head back.

"Text Paul when you are back at your hotel?" He asks me to and I look at the Estonian, frowning. "How?" I ask, not having the number of any of them, but Paul just gives me my phone with a wink and I understand. Thanking them both, I take my stuff and leave to face the dread of my boss.

The bossing around is even worse than usual this time and while Kai is typing slowly on his laptop, I am the one transcribing both of the interviews. For his liking, I am way too slow, stopping all the progress we could make today. I listen, type and scrobble down little notes for parts we might need more details for. The hours pass by and slowly the sun dips. My neck feels strained, there is a soft throbbing in my temples and right now I want nothing more than just to be back cuddled between Paul and Franco.

The hospitality is almost empty when we finally leave the track. Paddock is no longer flooded by working people as well, just some of the big broadcasters still packing in their stuff just to return her tomorrow. The ride to the hotel is luckily silent and I am more than glad to finally enter my hotel room. I kick off my shoes and fall face down on my bed, sighing deeply when my head hits the soft pillow, until a thought comes to my mind. I promised the boys to text them. Pulling out my phone, I spot Paul's number easily and simply text him a:

Finally back at the hotel.

It doesn't take him long to answer, grey checks turning blue almost immediately, like he just waited for me to text him.

This late?

Yeah, everything was taking longer...

I rub my neck, knowing it might form into a headache if I don't stretch it for a bit, but I don't really want to move right now.

Want to come over?

I hesitate, biting my lower lip. As much as I would like to see the boys, usually the team hotels are flooded by fans, paparazzi and even though the boys are "just" reserve drivers, they still have a lot of eyes on them.

I can't just wander into your hotel.

Come outside your hotel and one of us will pick you up.

I don't know...

Please? You don't have to if you are uncomfortable with it, but Franco and I would like your company.

I sigh, this is way too good to be true. But being with them might be just what I need. Sharing time with them today made me feel so relaxed, so safe and I would give everything to just feel that again.

Okay.

Great! Put something comfortable on and Franco will be there in ten?

Fifteen?

I ask, suddenly no longer feeling tired anymore. The least thing I can do is to freshen up, the day was warm and I don't want to smell bad when I am close to them.

Fifteen it is.

Wrapped in a comfy hoodie and some sweatpants, I wait outside of my hotel. The temperatures have dropped without the sun, but luckily, I don't have to wait long. A car pulled up just a minute later, revealing Franco in the driver's seat, giving me one of his signature smiles.

"Hi."

"Hey Franco." I greet him and sit down in the car. Without hesitating, he leans over, presses his lips against my cheek like he did this morning, making me blush while he drives off. Just being with him makes my heart beat quicker, but at the same time, calmness waves over me.

"Paul is already in my room." Franco informs me and I just mutter an "Okay," eyes looking into the night. He sighs softly, making me look at him.

"Don't go all shy on us now, okay?" Franco asks, gaze flickering over, before he keeps focusing on the street. "Nothing you don't want will happen tonight." He reassures me and I sigh. Knowing they don't force me to do anything, but this whole situation feels so absurd to me.

"It just feels weird." I mutter, but reach out to gently touch his arm. Feeling the need to show him I am comfortable around them, just more than nervous.

"I get that, but just relax, we are two normal boys who like to talk too much." He grins, making me smile at his words.

"That helps."

The rest of the ride is silent, but it is a comfortable one. Franco reaches out to place his hand on my thigh while he doesn't need it to shift, me playing with his fingers in the process and a shared look from time to time. With Franco, I don't need to enter through the front; we park the car in a secluded area in the back without any fans or cameras visible, before we enter the hotel. Franco holds my hand on the elevator ride, leading me to his hotel room. He opens the door, letting me enter first, before he announces our presence.

"We're back." We get rid of our shoes and enter the spacious bedroom. Paul is lying on the bed, but sits up when he sees us. He is dressed in a shirt and some sweatpants, making it seem like he and Franco chilled in here before they decided they wanted my company.

"Hi." Paul grins, hops on his feet and with three wide steps, he is in front of me. Without even giving me the chance to answer, he kisses me. Presses his lips onto mine, making my eyes widen, but I don't pull back. Sighing softly against his lips before slowly moving my lips in sync with his. I can hear Franco grumble something and Paul pulls back with a smile, eyes looking at mine reassuringly.

Just blinking, I stare at him for a moment, until I feel a soft touch on my chin. I look at Franco, who's is looking at me, head slightly tilted to the side. When my eyes flicker to his lips, he smirks, leans down and kisses me. His lips are soft and I can do anything but sigh against his lips as well. This isn't how I imagined my evening to be, but I won't complain. Pulling back from me, Franco has that little smirk on his lips again, making me blush furiously.

"You can stop us at any second." Franco reassures me, just like he did in the car. Only the things I want to happen will happen tonight. I nod slowly and it seems to give the boy the okay to start. Fingers tug on the hem of my hoodie and I lift my arms, letting them pull it over my head. Wanting to be cuddled into a hoodie tonight, I didn't put on an extra shirt, making the boys groan when they spot me just left in my bra. Paul pulls me into another kiss and I'm glad because it gives me something to do. They both taste good on my lips and it feels like a drug I can't get enough of.

I can feel hands roam over my skin, guessing Franco is the one touching me and try to lean my body into his touch. Paul's tongue dips into my mouth, making me whimper. God, how am I supposed to go through the night with them, if just kissing makes my knees go weak.

Franco's fingers hook under the straps of my bra, pulling one side down, then the other. Lips caressing the spots where they rested before. But he doesn't open the bra just yet. His hands hold onto my hips, pulling me against his chest, my lips still entangled with Paul's. I gasp when Paul pulls back, eyes hooded, only to see his hungry gaze on me. He looks over my shoulder, communicating wordlessly with Franco again. Franco loses his grip on me, hand sneaking up my back, opening the bra and makes it fall to the ground. Making me gulp.

"Fuck, I never...never done this before." I whisper, feeling the need to say anything. A threesome might have been on my mind one or two times before, but I never thought that I would have one. Especially not with people like Franco and Paul.

"That's okay, we can take it slow." Paul reassures me, hand cupping my cheek, thumb brushing softly over my skin.

"It's all about you." Franco promises, kisses my other cheek like he did so often before and I whisper a soft "Okay" to tell them I am ready. Well, more or less.

Paul stays in front of me, Franco behind. They start kissing my skin. One on each side of my neck. Softly dragging their lips over the skin, not giving me a chance to tilt my head to the side, giving one of the more access. Franco nips at my skin and instinctively, I reach up to tangle my fingers into his hair. His tongue licks soothingly over his bites, exploring more and more of my skin.

Paul's hands touch me as well. At first kind of aimlessly drawing patterns into my skin. Fingers wandering up my ribcage, making me arch my body into his. I don't know what to do, so overwhelmed by the feelings of the two touching me that I can't do anything but let them use me and whimper. At one point, I manage to impatiently tug on their shirts. Making them pull back one by one, pulling their shirts over their heads, before they are back with me.

My naked back is pressed against Franco's chest and when I tilt my hips slightly I can feel his length pressing against my back. I lift my hands, start to touch Paul's chest while he kisses me again. Makes his tongue dance with mine, sending shivers down my spine. Franco's kisses slowly wander from my neck to between my shoulder blades until he has to drop to his knees to keep getting lower.

His lips keep wandering lower until they reach my lower back and then his hands join in. He hooks them into my sweatpants, manages to grab my panties as well and slowly drags them down my body, following the fabric with his lips. Franco helps me to step out of the trousers one foot by one, before he kisses up the other leg. Cheekily he grazes his teeth over my butt, making me whimper against Pauls lips, but push my hips back into Francos mouth.

"So pretty." Paul whispers, eyes scanning my body like he has never seen someone prettier before. I would blush if my head wasn't red anyway and for the first time this evening, I can feel how wet I already am. Behind me, Franco is back on his feet, hands brushing up my sides, hands finding my breasts, covering them with his fingers.

"So responsive." Franco praises me, fingers pinching my nipples, making me arch my back to get more of his touch. I feel high on lust by now, but this night is just getting started. Trying to get more active as well, I hook my fingers into Paul's sweatpants, looking in his eyes, waiting for him to nod before I pull them down.

I try not to stare, but both of them are so trained. Admiring Paul's physics, I don't even realise that Franco has undressed himself. Only when I see him going to the bed, my eyes are back on him. Franco lies down in the middle of the bed, leaving enough space for Paul and me.

"Sit on my face." Franco instructs me and I hesitate. Eyes wandering from Franco to Paul and back to Franco, who just waves me over. Carefully, I walk over to the bed, kneel beside Franco, first not sure if I should really do this. But he helps me drape one of my legs over his body, parting them naturally. I shuffle a bit higher, hovering over Franco's face at first, bracing myself for the impact, but he isn't patient. Without hesitation, Franco pulls me down to his face, making me squeak. Hand finds the headboard to hold me upright while Franco starts to devour me.

Tongue finding my clit easily while his hands hold me firmly in place. Lips perfect to suck the little pearl into his mouth, making he whimper, "Fuck, Franco." I look down on him, only to find his gaze. Eyes dark while he keeps pleasuring me with his mouth. I try not to grind down on his face, but with every lick, every soft suck it gets harder and harder.

"Relax, okay?" Paul mutters, approaching me from behind and I look over my shoulder to see that the Estonian has a bottle of lube in his hands. Fingers trailing down my back and I get what he wants to do, making me tense up slightly. Franco stops his movements, fingers softly kneading my thigh.

"Be careful, please?" I ask Paul because even though I had anal sex before it was some time ago and I don't know easily I manage to relax under the touch of both of the boys.

"Of course." Paul promises, kisses me softly on the lips, before opening the lube bottle. Warming it up in his palm, before coating his fingers with it. I turn my eyes back to Franco, trying to find a point to distract me and when he sees me looking at him he takes up his movements again. Tongue swirling around my clit takes my mind away from thinking and I don't even flinch when I feel Pauls finger at my backside.

The coated fingertip rests against my hole, slowly massaging it, until it relaxes enough for him to push one finger in. I gasp, grinding down against Franco's tongue, making him groan in response. The vibrations sending waves through my body and I just have one thought in my mind. More. More. More.

Paul moves his finger, twisting and turning it to work me open enough to slide a second finger inside. Franco's fingers are dug in my thighs, holding me tight to his face, not letting me move away when the pleasure slowly gets more and more. Tip of his tongue dipping into my hole, lips sucking on my clit, drawing whimper by whimper over my lips. The second finger of Paul doesn't hurt, just makes some tension ripple through my body.

"Shh." Paul softly hushes me, keeping his hand still, until I relax under their touch. He twists and scissors them carefully to open me up while I drip down on Franco's tongue.

"I'm..." I whimper, feeling my body clench around Paul's fingers and Franco's tongue. Only managing to whimper more while orgasming for the first time. Instead of stopping Franco just keeps lapping my clit slowly. Paul slips a third finger inside, using the moment of my body relaxing to shove it inside for further preparations.

Just when I slowly realise they aren't going to give me a pause, Franco manages to sneak his fingers between my legs as well. Adding two of them to my dripping hole, making me gasp. Just by the feeling of the boy's fingers filling my holes, I feel full, stretched and can only imagine what will happen after the preparation part. Both of the move their fingers, slowly stretching me open, Francos tongue on my clit distracting me from any remaining pain, while I just moan under they touch. I can feel my thighs shaking, a second orgasm building up and they have to feel it as well by how hard I clench down on their fingers.

"Oh god, I can't." I try to get myself out of their touch, but together they hold me in place, fingers thrusting in and out like it is their only goal to make me come. "You are doing so good." Paul whispers into my ear, lips nipping on the sensitive skin below, sending me straight over the edge. I can barely hold myself up anymore and I am more than glad when Paul and Franco both pull their hands back and when Francos tongue is no longer working on my clit. My thighs feel damp and shake slightly while I try to connect myself to reality again.

Looks like the boys have decided to give me a little break. Letting me rest between them, head resting against Franco's chest while Paul is pressed against my back. I can feel their hot skin on mine, their hard lengths pressing into my body, but they stay calm and give me a moment to breathe. Fingers drawing patterns into my body while my breathing is slowly getting back to normal. When I sigh softly and start to return their touch, live comes back into them.

"Ready for us?" Franco asks, sitting up slightly, making me slide off his chest. I roll onto my back, looking up at both of them, who look at me, observing. Trying to listen to my body, I figure out how I feel. Definitely sore tomorrow, but abdomen still clenching in anticipation.

"I guess?" I mumble, not matching the enthusiasm of my body.

"You don't have to, if it is getting too much, we are just going to take turns." Paul suggests and Franco nods. I don't know what will drain my body more, both of them together or one after the other, one always having time to recover and maybe even going for another round.

"If you can take us both, we can still take turns later tonight." Franco grins and I huff slightly.

"I am not getting any sleep tonight, will I?" I ask them, but grin during it, not finding that idea unpleasant.

"Hardly." Paul confirms and I nod my head, "Okay."

Franco sits up, reaches for something on the bedside table and hands Paul a condom. They both prep themselves, pumping their lengths a couple of times, before pulling the condom on and spreading a generous amount of lube on top. Even though I am probably more than wet right now, they want to make this as easy as possible.

I straddle Franco's hips, hovering over his length for a moment while holding onto his shoulders. He holds his tip against my entrance, but waits for me to move first. I look him in the eyes when I slowly sink down, taking his length inch by inch. Franco groans, hips bucking slightly, his fingers digging into my side, but he stays still. I take the time to kiss him, taste myself on his lips and whimper against them. Franco lets himself fall back, pulling me with him to make some space for Paul.

Paul kneels behind me, fingers softly caressing my butt, hands spreading the cheeks for his cock to slide between them. His tip pushes against the hole and I tense up just slightly before relaxing again. Bit by bit, he pushes inside, hushing me softly when I whimper and cramp. Just when I think I cant take all of them Paul fingers find my clit, toying with it, making me relax enough for him to slide in fully.

"You feel so good around me." Paul groans before Franco adds, „Doing so well." Their little praises help me take my mind away from the slightly burning stretch. Pauls fingers keep rolling over my clit, Franco helping me to sit up slightly, changing the angle of the cocks. My fingers dig into Franco's chest, making him groan, but both of them stay completely still. I try to listen to my body and when there is just anticipation and lust left, I give them the go to move.

"You can move."

They chose slow, deliberated movements. Paul pulls his hips back slightly, before pushing in again and Franco finds a way to buck his hips up. It does need a moment for them to find a rhythm, but then it is just lust flooding my veins. I don't know what to do, to think, just feel and let them move me. Being so on the edge already that just a few thrusts are enough to push me over, making me clench down on them and draw groans from their throats.

It's like this flips a switch and they are no longer keep grinding into me but get more force behind their thrust, using me for their pleasure. My finger dig into Franco's chest, probably leaving marks behind, drawing some moans over his lips. They both hold onto my hips, hands covering he ones of the other while they pull me into their thrusts. Paul slightly backwards and Franco down, stretching me open on their cocks. I don't know how much time passes until I feel that familiar tugging in my lower abdomen.

"Fuck, fuck fuck." I whimper between them, not knowing if I can take another one. "Yes, come again." Paul groans and I can feel his hand sneaking from my hip to in between my thighs. Just when his fingertip brushes against my clit I orgasm, spasming around them while feeling completely blissed out. Being in a hazy state, barely realising that the boys come to their high as well.

We all collapse on the bed for a moment, my body aching but kind of in a good way. I have my eyes closed, barely feeling the boys pulling out of, before they cuddle themselves against my body. My heart rate slowly comes down again and the exhaustion takes over my body. I yawn softly, cuddling myself against the damp skin of Franco, or is it Paul? I don't really care.

"Are you okay." One of them asks and I just hum in return, "Hm."

"Can you open your eyes?" This time, I am sure it's Franco and slowly open my eyes, blinking at them tiredly. Both have a soft smile on their lips, hair slightly sticking to their foreheads, but I am sure I don't look any better.

"We got you some water." Paul tells me and helps me to sit up slightly before giving me the bottle. "Thank you." I mutter, drinking a good amount of it, only now realising how thirsty I am. Franco disappears for a moment, returning with a damp washcloth in his hands.

"Can I clean your thighs?" He asks me, because even though they didn't spill inside of me, but into a condom, my thighs are still sticky with slick and lube. Knowing this might get uncomfortable, I smile at Franco. "Yes."

He sits down beside me, tenderly letting the lukewarm washcloth brush over my thighs, cleaning away the remnants of the night. "You did so good for us." Franco praises me, lips meeting my cheek, making me sigh softly.

"Now rest for a bit." Paul says and we all cuddle back together in the bed. Barely visible where one starts and the other ends, covered by the big hotel blanket, all drifting into a deep slumber not long after.

We might not have done it again that night, all too tired, but who knows what the morning has in store for us. 

[j-jinxee]

୨୧ WHAT ENHA – HYUNG LINE – WOULD SAY DURING MAKE UP SEX ⸝⸝⸝

NSFW under the cut! ⊹ Hyung Line x Reader

✦ [warnings — sex obv, swearing, head - recieving, crying, fingering, petnames]

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୨୧ Lee Heeseung

⊳ The way he wouldn't even try to be soft. He'd fuck you dumb until you can't even remember what the argument was about.

⊳ He'd apologise after yes, but not now. For now he's filling you so good you're practically a limp little fucktoy for him :((

⊳ 'you know you can't stay mad at me baby, not when I make you feel this good, huh?'

⊳ 'awh, doll forgot how to speak? That's ok, I'll make you scream again soon bby'

⊳ 'feel me in there bby? feel how fucking deep I am, how well I fill your little cunt'

⊳ You hate that it worked, by the time he was done with you the last thing on your mind was that stupid argument.

⊳ He apologised for how he acted while providing aftercare, quietly but sincerely.

୨୧ Park Jongseong

⊳ Would be all for your pleasure. So incredibly whipped while doing anything to make you forgive him, yet not coming across as desperate.

⊳ So loving and gentle :(( but at the same time bringing you the most pleasure you've ever received in your fucking life.

⊳ 'love you so much bby, all I need is you, always'

⊳ 'I know we fight sometimes but, swear I'm gonna marry you one day'

⊳ He quietly apologised the whole way through, but made sure you knew he was so sincerely sorry by the end of it. Held you through the whole night and wouldn't let you go :((

⊳ Trails heavy kisses down your neck as you cum, whispering how good you are for him everytime, how good you make him feel.

୨୧ Sim Jaeyun

⊳ Poor boys nightmare is coming true :((

⊳ Will plead on his knees to let him eat you out, looking up at you like a lost puppy. Apologising profusely, promising he'll make you feel good.

⊳ Yes you're mad, but you're not stupid, so you reluctantly let him.

⊳ 'fuckkk baby, ' couldn't live without you, I really couldn't'

⊳ 'please bby, I'm so fucking sorry, let me show you- please'

⊳ So scared you won't forgive him afterwards, he means it when he says he couldn't live without you. Everything, your smile, your presence, your sweet little cunt, he needs all of you.

⊳ He's so grateful for you letting him pleasure you through this, n so hard by the end of it but won't dare ask for your help :(( poor boys boxers are drenched in sticky pre, feeling as if he could cry from the contrasting sensations.

⊳ Has you drunk off his tongue by the end of it, took him so long to stop, in fear of what words would come out when you were done screaming his name. Of course though, you forgave him.

୨୧ Park Sunghoon

⊳ Tears were falling as he began to kiss you, the moment was very overwhelming. As much as you wanted to push him away, his touch made everything go quiet.

⊳ When he pulled away, 'I- I just.. I can't do this anymore' you sobbed.

⊳ 'shh I know, I know baby' he whispers, laying you down like a child to sleep.

⊳ 'don't worry, it'll all go away soon'

⊳ Gently pulling down your shorts to slide a finger into your folds. Melting your anxieties away with the pleasurable feeling. Coming back up to capture your lips with his again, putting your soft cries to an end.

⊳ 'm sorry for snapping bby, I know you've been stressed 'm so sorry, you can let go now'

⊳ His sweet words guided you through your feelings, fingers working to tip you over the edge at any second. Quiet kisses and reassuring words, that was him :((

─────

Hope y'all like this one :33 idk why it's taking me so long to finish my one shots lately but anyway, have this 🤞🏻

[abbonation]

Red and Dripping

Kinktober prompt: Waxplay

Sub!Logan Howlett x Reader Smut 18+ 2.2k words

You want to introduce Logan to something new, he eagerly agrees.

Warnings and contents: Waxplay, dry humping, penis in vagina sex, creampie, mention of safewords, slight D/S dynamics (nothing harsh)

A/N: HII!! Yes everyone, I have joined the Wolverine love train, and I fear I'm never getting off, but I'm not mad about it. Anyway, college has been beating my ass with a pipe so this will likely be my only contribution to Kinktober this year 😔so plz forgive me and accept this heinous piece of work as penance.

As always, this piece is written with a chubby, reader who has a vagina in mind but other than that there is little to no physical description.

Love you guys, talk soon! XO

Red and Dripping

"So, Lo, have you ever heard of wax play?" you asked, as you and Logan sat down on your bed to watch TV in your room after training for the day.

"Nope, never heard of it." Logan replied, a while absently flipping through channels on the TV.

"Well, Cosmo says it's when you use hot candle wax on your partner's body and it feels really good. It’s  supposed to feel like a little sting at first but then the sting turns to pleasure." You explained to your boyfriend, trying to sound convincing.

"What, during sex?” You nod to affirm. “You want me to drip wax on you while we fuck?" Logan questioned, raising his eyebrow in that way of his.

"Well, actually, I was thinking I could do it to you." You suggested.

"Why me? I don't want my balls burnt." Logan said defensively.

"It won't burn you, baby. That's the whole point of it." You explained, adding with a laugh, "plus I'm not putting it on your balls, that is, if you're good, anyway."

"If you burn my balls, I'm never having sex with you again." Logan warned you.

"I actually already bought the candles for it, something told me you wouldn't be opposed to a little pain," You tell him with a smile. “If you wanted to give it a try now.”

“I’m gonna trust you on this one, princess,” He replied gruffly.

You walked over to your dresser and got out the three red paraffin candles you had purchased from a little truck stop slash sex shop outside of the city and a lighter. You return to the bed where Logan was still sitting, leaned against the headboard, and perch yourself on his thighs, straddling him. You put the candles on the bedside table and lit the first one. While you wait for it to melt a bit you turn to your Wolverine, his nostrils slightly flared and pupils dilated. "Baby," he moved his large warm hands over your hips and lower back, dipping his head forward to lick and kiss the junction of your throat and shoulder.

"Remember the rule, Logan?" You pull his head back, looking into his eyes, needing to know he wants this.

He nods, hands beginning to roam to your belly, you can feel him hardening under you.

You began by dripping a little bit of the warm wax onto the inside of your wrist to see how hot it was. It was definitely hot enough to make you jump but it felt good on your skin, a quick burn fizzling into a warm tingle.

"Let me try a little bit." Logan said while extending his arm towards you.

You do the same amount onto the inside of his wrist and he flinches a bit letting out a little moan in the process. "Mm- again," he whispered as he closed his eyes.

You poured more wax onto his wrist and he let out a louder moan and bucked his hips up, his cock brushing against your core through his sweatpants. His breathing increased and he sat up to take his shirt off before scooting to fully lay under you.

"You like it?" You ask him, focusing on how his cheeks and chest are already starting to flush for you.

"Yeah, honey it’s nice," he says, a little whiny as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. You took that as your cue to start.

You hold the candle a few inches over his left nipple, tilting it just slightly to pour just a little bit of the wax onto the peak.

He keened, "F-fuck, oh my god, that's good" His hands gripping the meat of your hips tightly, starting to slowly drag you back and forth against himself. Your underwear provides delicious friction against your clit.

"Oh god that's so good," he moans, eyes rolling back as he arches up, so you hold the candle higher and let more of the red wax drip off the candle down onto the upper part of his stomach. You do the same to the other nipple and litter more spatters on his toned chest, getting close to the base of his throat. He keeps moving his hips underneath you, now moving his feet up for more leverage.

You can feel yourself leaking into your panties now, the added slick lubricating the way you slide against the hard line of his cock, it's catching on your clit and you whimper, starting to lose the composure you had- but he isn't finished yet, still groaning beneath you, and you want more.

You pour another line of wax down his stomach, and then a second one right next to it. "Nggh, yeah sweetheart," You're so close now, the building pressure is nearly suffocating, just a few more thrusts against him and you'll be gone. But Logan is nearly there, you're sure of it, and you need him to come before you do. You want to see it. So you quickly set the candle down on the table, you don't want it to go out just yet. You run your hands over his pecs, feeling the heated skin firm under your fingertips. You rub your thumbs over his nipples and he huffs a groan.

"Please baby, please touch me," he begs.

You pull away from his cock, you don't want to push him over the edge too soon, can tell he wants to keep going. "It's okay, Logan, you're doing so well for me. We're gonna make you feel so good, I promise, just trust me," you murmur, taking his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together and holding them on either side of his head against the pillow. He nods, and swallows, you can feel him loosely humping up against you, begging for some friction on his dick.

You move your mouth down to suck at one nipple, dripping spit onto it, licking the hardened wax off his skin and scraping your teeth so gently against the hardened bud, you move to the other and do the same. He's panting under you, "Baby, please, please touch my cock, I need it," he nearly cries. You love when he begs, he's such a strong man, so composed and nonchalant, but he lets you do whatever you want to him, exterior cracking into a man who's so eager to please, desperate to receive. You give in, sliding down his body, dragging your clothed cunt over his hard dick before moving lower.

"What do you need, sweet boy?" You ask, nosing along his treasure trail, sucking at the pudge under his navel, placing kisses on the wax as you make your way to his pubic hair, teasing him as you pull down his sweatpants.

He can barely speak, "Touch me, suck my cock, anything, fuck, anything," he breathes. There's a wet patch on the front of his sweatpants, whether it's from you or him you're not sure, but you kiss it anyway. "Shit-" his cock twitches against your lips through the material. You pull the waistband down to let it spring free, he sways at the cool air, slapping against his belly, you cup his sac and bring them out too, all exposed now. His tip is an angry red, mimicking the wax, and a fat glob of precum bubbles out of the head, swollen with girth at how turned on he is. You lean forward and lick from the bottom of his balls up the vein to cup the tip of him with your tongue. "Ohh jesus," His hands move to cover his face now.

You lick back down to his balls, kissing them, suckling lightly at the skin, he tastes like salt and smells intoxicatingly of Logan, you suck one into your mouth and he moans. You pull away with a pop, "I'm gonna put more wax on you now, okay baby?"

"Yes, yes please do it," he answers, moving his hands to tangle in your hair, pulling slightly, you love it when he loses it like this. You move up to grab the candle, making sure it's still melty before carefully dripping it on his inner thigh, the reaction it pulls from him is immediate. "Fuck-" He growls, pushing his hips off the bed and gripping your hair and shoulders harder.

"What's the safeword, Logan?" You ask him, even though he doesn't really need to use it, but you want him to know he has control.

"Red, I'll say red if I need to stop." He answers, eyes still closed, panting and covered in a sheen of sweat. His cock is pulsing regularly now, balls drawing up tight against him.

"That's so good Wolvie, I'm so proud of you, look at how pretty you are for me" you praise, he whimpers at your words. You move the candle to pour some wax onto his other thigh, you make a little pool in the dip of where his hip joins to the top of his thigh.

You spit into your free hand, finally taking pity on him. You begin messily stroking his cock, and pour a drip of wax right above his pubes on his lower belly, making him writhe in pleasure filled pain. You can tell he's close, cock dribbling clear precum steadily into your hand and his stomach, you rub the tip of your finger against his hole, just to see what he'll do. He whines, "I want to come, I'm so close." His voice cracks like he's about to cry.

"You want me to fuck you?" You ask, knowing the answer.

"No- please just- please I-" he stutters, cut off by his own moaning as you rub the underside of his cock, right under his head. He's close, so close.

"Do you want to come?" You ask, "Tell me what you want, Logan, use your words."

"I wanna come, I need it, please let me come, I'll do anything," He begs.

"You wanna come in my pussy or my mouth? Or all over my tits?" You ask, squeezing your legs together for some friction.

He looks down at you, “Fuck, in your pussy, please, I can't wait– need to be inside you."

"Okay Logan, you've done so good, made me feel so good." You praise, climbing back over to be on top of him, sliding off your absurdly wet underwear down before pulling your tank top off over your head. He cups your tits, pulling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, lightly twisting how you like.

You straddle his wide hips and grip the base of him to guide it inside, slowly lowering yourself down over the head, an obscene gooey sound happens as he breaches your untouched cunt, and you fold, the arm holding you up nearly collapsing as you slide down the rest of his incredible width. "Ah, holy fuck," Logan groans as he moves his hands to your hips, gripping you tightly as he bottoms out, cock nestled deep inside you.

"Ghh, Logan, so good, such a fat cock," you huff out as he pulses inside of you, balls pressed tightly against your perineum. He's panting and moaning under you, hips thrusting up slightly to get some friction, to move. You start grinding down on him, rubbing your clit into his pubic hair. "I'm not gonna last, princess," he moans, "I-I'm too close."

"I know, Lo, you can come whenever you want." You say as you lean back and brace your hands on his thighs, lifting up before sliding back down and starting to ride him as quickly as you can. -plap, plap, plap- His length stabs into your front wall, sharp bursts of euphoria blinding you, catapulting you towards orgasm.

"Fuck, baby, yes, fuck yes," he grunts, and takes over by holding your hips in place to fuck up into you. "Oh god," you cry, "Shit, I'm gonna come," you sob. "Let go Logan, please I need your cum all inside," you keen.

His eyes go blank, then roll back as his whole body tenses, his claws slice the space between his knuckles and sink deep into the mattress while his cock is swelling up and pulsing wildly within you as he comes with a yell, hot liquid flooding your cunt in harsh waves. His orgasm triggers yours, sending you spiraling over the edge blindly as you gush and pulse and flutter around his drooling cock. You absolutely collapse on top of him, his arms coming to wrap around you. There are no words as he turns you both to your sides, his cock still sheathed inside.

After a few moments of silence, and catching your breath you break the tension, "So how was that?" you ask, a little too cocky.

Logan smiles down at you, breathing a laugh, "It was pretty good, I guess."

You roll your eyes and giggle, "Just pretty good, huh?" You question.

Logan's smile grows, "It was amazing, you know me too well."

"It was, wasn't it?" You answer, looking back into his eyes.

You both burst out laughing, leaning forward and pressing your lips together. "I love you so much," Logan whispers after breaking the kiss.

"I love you too," you whisper back, resting your forehead against his. 

A few minutes passed before you felt Logan's cock twitch inside you, causing you to clench around him. "Ready to go again?" you asked your boyfriend.

"As long as it involves this pussy, I'm ready to go." Logan replied with a smile.

[egg-but-with-style]

Butcher ghost 2, electric boogalo

Tw: definitely ooc

1 2 3

You were panicking at the moment, standing outside his shops door. Holding day old chicken spadini in your hands. You threw in some fettuccine alfredo that you had made too.

You had texted him yesterday night, after you left your parents house, waiting until you got home to decide if you wanted to talk to him or not. Of course you did, he was handsome, or atleast his eyes looked handsome. Or maybe you just had a thing for guys with huge arms and a small penchant for violence.

When you had texted him, he seemed so dry. Only a couple word responses, then he told you to meet him inside his shop, said Tuesdays were always slow. In the back of your head, there was a little common sense. 'What if he's actually a serial killer? How do you know he isn't a creep?' which were questions you should've probably taken more seriously, but the knife and taser in your purse gave you reassurance.

You finally, having some courage, pulled open the door and went in. He seemed alot less focused today, like he was waiting for something. You watched his head snap up once the door closed, it letting out a slight creak.

He was surprised when you actually texted him, he was speechless when you agreed to come back to the shop, and now that it was all real, you standing in front of the counter, it made his jaw hit the floor.

He wasn't good at romance, or first impressions, or flirting. But he liked what he saw, he liked what he heard. He also might've stalked your socials after you told him your name over text. Only to check if you had a partner, definitely only that.

You saw him looked a little surprised, but the mask definitely blocked most of the facial expressions you would've seen, which he was thankful for. You spoke up, "Hi, Simon. I um.. bought the chicken..oh and I put some pasta in there too, figured chicken wasn't a balanced meal on its own and all that." You walked over to the counter and set down the Tupperware container. He spoke, his voice a little less rough today for some reason. "Mum used to tell me I couldn't just eat meat, now I run a butcher shop"

You let out a giggle. Your round cheeks becoming almost circles as you smiled. He felt his face heating up behind his mask, which was already so humid. He swore if he looked in a mirror now, he'd see his pupils being about the size of a saucer. He cleared his throat, trying not to feel embarrassed.

"It..it looks good though."

He hadn't eaten for the last 5 hours just because he wanted to be able to eat whatever you gave him. (Including dessert, if you catch my drift) Which you seemed to give him an ample portion, he was a big guy after all.

You thought he seemed a tiny bit nervous. Was it..you that was making him nervous? You shook off the idea, maybe he was just a little jumpy specifically on Tuesdays.

"Do..do you want to try some? I heated it up before I drove here. Even though you probably have a microwave.."

You realized maybe it was kind of a stupid idea to heat it up for him, but you had been so worried he might not have liked it. So you just wanted him to eat it as soon as possible. Not wanting to deal with the fear.

"No, no that's fine. I'd have to run all the way upstairs to my flat to heat it up anyway."

You watched him slowly open the container and pull up his mask just slightly to get the smell in. It seemed like his shoulders physically relaxed once he got a good sniff in. It was kinda cute.

"Do..do you want me to look away or?"

You weren't sure if the mask was just for protection, or if he just didn't like people seeing his face. He looked at you and seemed a little stunned that you asked. He slowly shook his head. "It's alright."

He hoped you wouldn't judge him because of his face, of all the scars, from acne and otherwise, not to mention the nose that had clearly been broken before, but when he pulled down the mask fully, you swore you were seeing something carved from marble.

His nose was crooked, a few scars lining the philtrum and the bridge. Then to his lips, the top one have a scar through the left side and slightly cleft because of it. His jaw and chin were just as impressive, being a bit soft, but still so pretty.

"You're beautiful.." you quickly covered your mouth, looking embarrassed for even saying that. "I..I'm so sorry! I didn't, I wasn't thinking.." Oh you were thinking, you were just thinking about how handsome he was.

That's when you saw his face turn a bit red. "Its..it's no problem. Don't worry about it" He looked away for a second, coughing and then looking back to you. Trying to play off the blush finding it's way to his ears.

He picked up a fork he brought down here specifically for the chicken you were bringing him. He felt kind of like a dork, but all that was forgotten when he took a bite of the chicken. He even let out a little groan. The seasoning, the flavor from the overnight marination in the sauces. He felt like he was in heaven, he looked like he was too.

Once he chewed and swallowed, he spoke up. "This is really fucking good." He really wanted to scarf it down right in front of you, but he already felt embarrassed and vulnerable enough, so he closed the container, to his own dismay. "I'll eat the rest of it once I close down shop. I..I wanted to ask you something"

You had been staring in awe at his reaction to your cooking, snapping out of it once he addressed you directly. You had a feeling what he was gonna ask, you just hoped you were right. "What did you wanna ask me?"

He blurted it out, hoping if he said it fast enough you'd just say yes. "Do you wanna go on a date with me?" Was it a little werid to ask the lady he just met yesterday out on a date? Yes. Yes it was. But he could care less. He knew he couldn't charm you the normal way, so it was a Hail Mary.

You heart fluttered a little, hearing the words come from his lips. "YES! I..I mean sure. Yeah, totally." You really didn't mean to yell but who gets the chance to go on a date with a beefcake like him everyday?

Your enthusiastic reply made his lips quirk up into a small smile. He was glad you were just as nervous, terrified, and frankly down bad as he was.

While you were indeed as taken as him as he was with you, you were still a woman and wanted to meet in a public place. You had some common sense left. "How does coffee on Saturday sound? Or..or tea if you don't like coffee.." He in fact did not like coffee. His smile got a little wider and he nodded. "Sounds like a date."

Authors note: In my au, I don't think ghost joined the military, but I do think he did some boxing in his teens and early 20s, definitely getting roughed up alot. I'm not sure if I'm happy with how I wrote this, so who knows I might rewrite it in the future.

I also wanted to thank you guys for 300 some notes on the first part of this! I'm really new to writing, and I'm glad you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoy making it. Also, I'm a dork and a goofy ghost believer, so deal! Thanks for reading, and I hope you liked it!

[clawsdevour]

reunited

wc: 0.4k content warning: post-timeskip, established relationship, fluff, jealous hinata, hinata x reader, not proofread

⩩⠀ ៰࣪⠀ ࣭

"oh, hey! i haven't seen you in a while kageyama," you waved across the room to an old friend.

the bustling karasuno reunion made you realize how much time really flies. everyone's all grown up, living their own lives that have their own purpose and meaning.

you found yours too the moment you started dating your now husband hinata shoyo.

walking into the school gym, it's just like old times. the crisp air like how it used to be whenever you walked in, ready to help yachi and kiyoko manage the boys' volleyball team.

you weren't very close with the upper classmen besides kiyoko, but you were pretty close with the first years like tsukishima, yamaguchi, yachi, and even kageyama who's always dense but cold as ice. well.. it was more like kageyama was your wingman when it came to approaching that ginger.

of course you're still gonna chat with kageyama from time to time despite knowing hinata may beee just a weee bit jealous since kageyama is somewhat now his rival. but he doesn't let it get to him because he understands, and especially because kageyama's the reason why you two were married anyway!

"oh hi, how've you and hinata been?" subtly smiling at your familiar face.

"it's been going good! what about you and volleyball? when are you gonna play against hinata again?" you exclaimed in delight from seeing an old face, feeling a slight presence from the back of your head.

quickly averting your attention to catch what was giving you this piercing tension, it was no one else but hinata from across the room mid conversation with daichi.

his golden brown eyes throwing sharp darts at you as he sips from his cup. the tension rising between you two as you exchanged eyecontact with eachother before watching him settle his cup on the table. excusing himself before sauntering his way to you and kageyama.

"how's it going?" wrapping an arm tightly around your waist, lips pressed against your cheek whilst making full on eye contact with kageyama's beady eyes.

"hinata, you actually came?" kageyama jokingly scoffed, as if provoking his opponent for their next match.

"course i did. why wouldn't i? can't i see my team again?" hinata's burying his nose in your hair, wafting in the scent of your lavender shampoo.

his fingertips subtly drawing circles in the side of your waist. hinata's eyebrows are furrowed, eyes focused and staring intently at kageyama to create a sense of fear while clearly establishing that you're his.

"y-yeah.. i'm gonna see the others," kageyama's slowly backing away, leaving you two alone.

masterlist here

[pinkaditty]

UGH I love love love ur Hc’s it like you literally came straight out of the game ^^ although jiro doesn’t get much time to sit down or relax in general sometimes tells me he’d like cockwarming

well yes obviously!!! this way he wouldn't have 2 move around much... ALSO TYYYYY this is the best compliment i could get in reference 2 hcs i think... like it's so good it's like i came out the game fr?!?!? amen!!!!! (hc's are here! unfinished, but being worked on)

a/n: well. im back. i know what i said but... i needed 2 write. the worms are inescapable... im working on a romance fic (sho haizono x reader) in the bg bc I need 2 post something fluffy... just this once... ANYWAYS this is short 4 my own sanity I fear. sorry! ill write more jiro next time I promise. he was gonna be my next smut victim anyway (after haru!). also please let me know if i wrote jiro ooc... i have an odd feeling i may have gotten something wrong here.

summary: jiro's resting. you can't stay put.

cw: cockwarming! and discussion about penis length, i guess? it was funny 2 put that in there. sorry. i love human anatomy i fear it's the coolest thing ever 2 me. ALSO MINORS DNI!!!!!!!

You squirm for the hundredth time, squeezing your walls tight around Jiro's hardened length. He snaps his eyes open and looks down at you sitting in his lap. You can't tell if he's disappointed, tired, or neutral. The only signs he's enjoying himself are his clouded gaze, wavering expression, and cherry red blush across his cheeks. You didn't understand how he was "relaxing" like this, but somehow he made it work. He sighs, a small smile tugging his lips upwards. He reaches for your back and pulls you into his chest, and you shiver from feeling him twitch inside you. "You really should relax." His low voice is as expressionless as ever and masterfully hides the arousal he feels, the evidence of which is plastered all over his face.

"You're... A bit too long for that, Jiro." You try to say it jokingly, but your words are overshadowed by your groan as you try to settle yourself, only to end up spearing yourself further on his impressive length. He's silent for a moment before he strokes your back gently, as though apologizing. You ramble on. "I mean, I knew it was rumored that taller guys had longer dicks, but I didn't know that it was actually true—"

"It's not." Jiro pauses his hand movements, looking down at you again. "It's an unreliable method to use one's height alone to determine length, and the correlation that has been found is too weak to assume accuracy." His smile had faded at some point, returning to his usual stoic expression. His blush has not faded, however, and his pupils were blown wide.

"Okay..." You hold out your words, looking up at him curiously. You pull away from his chest, suppressing a moan as he twitches inside of you again. You grip his shoulders, steadying yourself, and his hands settle on your hips. His lips part as he pants, his breathing quickening. Once the dizzy pleasure in your head fades a bit, you shake your head and look up at him. "So, I'm curious. Is there a way to predict penis length?"

Jiro looks off to the side, in thought, somehow still holding it together better than you were. His cheeks were still flushed, his lips still parted with heavy breaths, but not much past that. He wasn't even sweating, remaining calm despite buried to the hilt inside your cunt. You had to admit, it was impressive. "Yes; if I remember correctly, there's a stronger, more reliable correlation between the respective difference in lengths between your pointer and ring fingers and estimated penis length." He looks back to you, bored voice matching his expression if not for that expressive blush. "It's stronger than both height and shoe size correlation, so it's more likely for someone with a larger difference in the lengths of those fingers to have a larger size."

You hardly even think about it, lifting one of his hands from your hips as he was talking. You analyze the length of his ring finger in comparison to his pointer finger, only to find not much of a difference. You almost feel disappointed for a few moments, before Jiro's laughter shakes you out of your thoughts. He squeezes your hip tighter with his free hand, still laughing. He shakes just slightly as he laughs, causing minor friction of his length against your walls. You let go of his hand and press your palms into his shoulders, suppressing your moans. "Jiro!" You press your palms into his shoulders harder. His laughter slows to a soft chuckle, and he returns his other hand to your hip, steadying you, pressing his hips upwards into you. He huffs out a breath, a slight groan escaping his throat as he does. His eyes darken for a split second as he gazes at where your bodies connect before he lifts his gaze to you again, soft smile on his face.

"You should've seen how disappointed you'd looked." He said, breathy chuckles escaping him as he lifted one of his hands, displaying the minimal difference in length between his pointer and ring finger. "I said it was likely, not that a large difference in length would always be indicative of longer lengths. And, I have long fingers." He returned his hand to your hip again, sounding as bored as ever, but with a small smile stuck on his face.

"There ought to be an easier way to figure this out." You muse, leaning towards him slightly, careful not to cause too much friction.

"There isn't," he states flatly, looking at you with an amused expression. "The best way to predict length would be via a combination of ethnicity, height, shoe size, and the difference between lengths of the pointer and ring fingers. Studies have been tried prior simply by asking, but those values tend to be exaggerated." You notice his voice begins to waver slightly, his lips remaining parted even when he's finished talking. He swallows thickly, leaning back against the chair, gripping your hips a little tighter.

You don't bother suppressing the surge of pride that runs through you as he visibly melts under you, clearly letting the sensation of your walls clinging to his cock get to his mind. "Someone's melting," you say teasingly, pressing a finger to the center of his forehead. He blinks at you a few times, as though attempting to clear the pleasurable haze.

"You squeeze when you're focused or engaged in conversation." He speaks quickly, his breathing getting heavier. He blinks multiple times, staring down at you. "Your squeezing makes it hard to relax."

"Aw, sorry big guy." You huff out a short laugh, leaning towards him, watching his eyes as they cloud further with lust.

He sighs, as though resigning. "Have we talked enough for you to relax?" He sounded like an actual doctor, his voice flat and formal despite his seemingly hazy expression.

You nod, deciding to let him rest, as he'd wanted. He wordlessly moves one of his hands to your back, pushing you towards him. You lay against his chest again, exhaling and melting into his body as he melted into you. You look up, watching as his eyes slide shut again. He rubs gentle circles on your thigh with his thumb, keeping his palm on your hip.

You're comfortable... at least, until his cock twitches again.

a/n: jiro, at last. i am. kind of worried i wrote him a bit ooc and maybe went in too hard with my bio stuff. idk. i hope it's good regardless.

note that i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs! please, tell me all about how you enjoyed my work!! it keeps me going!

@rottenzombrainz i believe this is ur man unless im mistaken

[baseonezero]

Toxic - 석매튜

warnings: toxic relationship, matt is kinda an asshole, degradation, smut, manhandling, raw penetration (p in v), hair pulling, creampie

wc: 1.3k

a/n: to distract everyone while i work on other things 😇 and excuse the sloppiness of my writing

seok matthew was such an amazing friend — so what the fuck happened when you started dating him?

his behavior turned so nasty and he was unbelievably toxic.

you honestly couldn't do anything without matthew being right on your ass about it. nothing ever slipped past him and if you even dared to try to be sneaky, it turned straight into an accusation and then an argument.

matthew absolutely hated when you interacted with other men — especially those significantly taller than you. with him being only 5’7, it brought out this never to be seen insecurity that he had kept buried until he had started dating you.

to compensate for his height, he made sure to consistently workout, watching his diet so he could at least be big in some other way.

god forbid he ever catches you accidentally zone out at a conventionally attractive man who happened to be tall. he’d lash out at you—calling you a slut and asking if you were wet at the thought of getting your pussy blown out by a complete stranger.

he made sure to constantly remind you that absolutely nobody would love you the way he loved you. nobody could ever possibly make you feel as good as he did. whatever they can do, he can do better.

you, however, did not care. no matter how shitty matt would try to make you feel, he was never able to fully get into your head. you owed it all to the defiance you inherited from your mother.

so why the fuck would you stay with someone like him anyway? you weren't so sure yourself. maybe because he was hot? it could be the fear of losing someone you once cared about so much that held you back from leaving or the fear of losing the best sex you’ll ever have.

he was mean, but you were into it. sure it isn't healthy but hell, when could you ever find anything as amazing as this?

through mutuals, you became friends with some guy named gyuvin. you both had many similar interests and hobbies, allowing you two to click almost instantly.

of course, you’d have to keep this little friendship a secret because you didn't want to deal with matthew’s nagging or harsh words. as much as you liked it, it got annoying really quick sometimes. it depended on your mood or rather — how horny you were.

“who the fuck is that?” matt questioned as soon as you stepped inside the house.

maybe you should've taken an uber instead of letting gyuvin drop you off. on top of him dropping you off, you let him walk you to your doorstep.

you slipped your shoes off at the entrance. “don't worry about it,” you scoffed, pushing past him to go to your room.

he huffed in disbelief, quickly following behind you. “how long have you been letting him hit?”

and with that, you quickly turned around with your eyebrows furrowed. “huh?” your top lip lifted, agitated by your boyfriend's question.

“don't fucking act stupid. why else would you let some guy walk you down to the door of our house?” he stepped closer until you were face to face, his hand coming to the back of your head and pulling your hair back in a tight fist. “or is that ‘just a friend’?”

you winced at the stinging of your scalp, eyes staying on his. “yeah. that's exactly what he is,” you hissed, keeping your chin up.

“guess i’m gonna have to check for myself.” he gritted his teeth, dragging you fully into the room before pushing your cheek against the wall.

“what are you talking about?” you tried to push away but his hand already trapped yours behind your back, making sure you wouldn't be able to fight him off.

pushing your pants and underwear down your thighs in one go, his fingers found their way to your wet cunt.

“did he leave you like this?” he asked, spreading your arousal between your folds and onto your clit, starting off with small circles.

your thighs instinctively squeezed together, trapping his hand between them. “yeah he did all this without even touching me,” you spat, knowing exactly how to get under his skin.

“but he’ll never make you cum the way i make you cum,” he lifted you bridal style with ease, taking you to the bed and dropping you there with no care.

with no chance to react, he completely stripped you of your pants and underwear, tossing them aside before moving himself between your legs.

his lips quickly smashed onto yours, sloppily making out with you as he rutted against your bare core.

the coarseness of his jeans created a delicious friction you would’ve never expected and you found yourself grinding against his movement, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

once he was hard enough, his hand rapidly yet clumsily flew to his fly, unzipping and unbuttoning his jeans to allow him to slip out of his pants. his briefs soon followed, his mouth and tongue never leaving yours.

he parted away from you for a second, a string of saliva attaching your mouths.

“you just love being a whore, don't you?” he held the base of his cock to guide his tip onto your glistening cunt, sliding it between your velvety folds. “just look at how wet you are,” he growled, amused and aroused by the image.

“so are you just going to stand there or—”

he slammed right into you, immediately shutting you up.

his groan sounded with your choke on a gasp, your hands gripping onto the dark gray sheets beneath you.

“god damn you’re so tight,” he sighed as he slowly slid out of you before ramming back into your cunt.

the roughness made your eyes fill with tears which only slipped down your cheeks as he pounded into you.

he was so relentless with the way fucked your pussy. he firmly pushed your legs back so he was sure to hit the spongy sweetness hidden in your cunt. it was less about actually making you feel good and more about making sure his ego was boosted by how loud he can make you moan out his name.

the bed creaked and the headboard hit the wall with the amount of force he was using, grunting and moaning at his own pleasure.

“mgnhhhohmgod matt—” you moaned out, eyes rolled to the back of your head, not being able to say or think of much else.

matt couldn't help but to smirk, feeling more confident than ever which only reminded him of one thing.

he paused for whatever reason, giving you just a few seconds to catch your breath before he went back to thrusting into you with no mercy.

“hey, what’s that asshole’s name?” he asked between pants, pushing one of your knees down to your chest.

“g-gyuvin..” you barely managed, having your arm draped over your eyes as you felt a knot form in your tummy.

“he could never make you feel this way.” he huffed, his thrusts growing sloppy as he felt himself grow closer to his own release.

“gonna cum—” you whined, flexing your abs as you finally came undone around him, hips jerking at the action.

matt soon followed, keeping still as he let his seed spill into your cervix.

he let a breath out as he slowly pulled out, watching the mixture of your juices drip out of your cunt.

“fuck,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair.

you didn't realize it until later but matt had filmed the last two minutes of it, showing off how he had filled you up with his load and sent it to gyuvin.

the read receipt showed he had seen it right after the video had been sent and you frantically tried to delete the video from the chat, even if you were too late.

right before your finger could hit the unsend button, gyuvin’s message had been sent.

‘let your bf know that i’ll accept the challenge lmao’

[haveihitanerve]

I request Bruce chasing his children down to put on scarves and gloves in the cold ass winter of New Jersey because despite being some of the strongest people (martial arts wise) on earth, they refuse to believe in cold temperatures and keep getting sick.

refuse to believe in cold temperatures is my new favorite sentence

anyway your wish is my command-

Kevin did not know what he was expecting to see on a Friday night at three am, but it was certainly not Nightwing and the fucking Red Hood running as fast as their legs could possibly carry them as the Batman chased after them, holding scarves and gloves in his hands.

He reached them just before they could round the corner and Kevin watched in amazement as Batman forced the gloves onto the two grown men who squirmed like five year olds.

"Don't-! wanna!" Red Hood screamed petulantly, trying very hard to escape the Bats grasp. "Your brother already has a cold!" Batman snarled back, winding a scarf around his head like he was trying to choke him.

"He doesn't have a spleen!" Nightwing argued, attempting to pull off the gloves that seemed to have some sort of suctioning power and would not budge. "They come off when its not cold. So finish patrol with them." Batman offered them both a sweet smile before grappling away before they could hit him with snowballs.

It was, probably, most arguably, the craziest shit he'd ever seen, and he lived in Gotham and got robbed by dudes wearing purple and green and asked questions before ordering their coffee.

And then it happened again. This time he was staying with his brother on the other side of town, when Orphan and Spoiler showed up. Neither seemed to be particularly cold, but Kevin remembered vividly how he and his siblings used to pretend "no its not cold!" to their mother because they had made such a fuss before but it really super was cold.

And then Batman showed up. Orphan melted into the shadows and Spoiler made eye contact with Kevin, flying across the street in an instant and pushing past him inside the apartment. His brother, wide eyed on the couch, looked between them.

"I'm not here." Spoiler hissed, forming an X with her arms. "I'm not here!" She ducked behind the couch just as Batman landed on the balcony and Kevin, he was raised in Gotham man, but he still flinched.

"Sorry," Batman grumbled, voice rough and low and also a little pouty. "I know she's inside. This won't take long." He stepped off the railing onto the balcony, but Kevin, telling his fear and survival instinct to fuck off, stepped in his way.

"She's uh- she? There's no she in our building sir. Believe me, we've tried." He swallowed, looking up into those endless white slits. The slits narrowed, and he turned to look inside. Brad was pale, but his brother, bless his heart, lifted his beer in a salute at the bat, before turning back to face the TV.

Batman looked about two seconds away from not being apologetic and screaming, but he finally gave a nod to Kevin and hopped off the balcony. Kevin didn't even bother to watch him hit the ground, because he knew he wouldn't, and cracked open the door instead.

"He's gone-" Spoiler poked her head over the couch hissing, "NO!" but it was too late. Batman appeared, one hand flinging him back up onto the balcony, and he was past Kevin before he even had a chance to scream, tackling Spoiler to the ground.

"I! Don't! Need it!!!" She screamed, struggling against him as he pinned her down, panting, legs trapping her lower body as his hands snagged her hands. "It's... for- your.. own good!" He grunted, pinning her hands down with one finally.

And as Kevin watched her buck, fruitlessly, and watched Batman slide gloves onto her hands and wrap a scarf around her neck, not effortlessly, he realized just how much of a threat Batman truly was. Sure, he had seen the Bats in action, and everyone knew the Bats were trained and raised by Batman, but he had never actually seen Batman work.

Old friends, goons, told him how he skilled, how efficient, how brutal he could be. But Kevin had laughed it off as propaganda, as some more bolstering of the Bats ego's. But now...

Batman's work wasn't effortless. Spoiler was fighting him every step of the way. But he wasn't struggling either, moving quickly, but also carefully, his hips pressing down enough to keep her still but not enough to hurt, hands pinning hers down but not enough to bruise....

Kevin knew Batman didn't kill. But he had never considered the amount of strength, precision, capability, it required. Not killing over killing had always seemed, to him, to be the easier thing. Not anymore.

Batman finished his work, standing and lifting Spoiler in one swift movement, and hauled her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She had stopped struggling at this point, and Kevin was fairly certain she was just hitting him because she could. Because she wanted to. The look on Batman's face revealed he was aware of it too.

"Thank you for protecting her." He growled, voice low but not hard. At that, Spoiler finally stilled. Kevin blinked in surprise. That was not what he had been expecting. He didn't know what, exactly, he had been, but a thank you was nowhere on his bingo card.

"N-no problem." Brad stuttered out when it was clear Kevin couldn't answer. Batman nodded to the both and left, setting Spoiler down on the balcony next to him, and wrapped his cape around her shoulders, murmuring something in her ear. She laughed, then stuck her tongue out at him, but Kevin noted how she leaned closer, wrapped herself in the warmth he provided.

Orphan materialized at their side and Batman tugged her to his side too, muttering something that sounded like admitting defeat, and Spoiler fist pumped, high fiving her. Orphan grinned and Batman rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around both of their shoulders and jumping. This time, Kevin watched until they disappeared.