#yes i know they don't represent EVERYTHING i stand for

[corpsephrog]

guys fucking vote harris walz or istg

[euniexenoblade]

Anyways, baeddel is a slur against trans women.

Yes, there once was a weird group of girls who ressurected this long dead word for representing an ideology (I'm not getting into it but it did suck, just not cuz they "hated" men). This group self destructed before ever getting that many people. It was small. A tiny group. Their ideology wasn't popular either.

But, truscum, anti-sjws (conservatives by another name) and hate sites like kf would start to use the term to refer to any trans woman that they decided wasn't "trans enough" or "woman enough" or more importantly, was "too political" (ie talks about transmisogyny, talks about feminism, talks about leftism, etc.). Baeddel became a stand in for "tranny" "faggot," it's the trans woman stand in for the "nasty man hating dyke" sentiment.

Now, a small niche group of trans mascs on Tumblr dot com have created this concept that the baeddels didn't self destruct, apparently they actually are this insanely popular group whose ideology has spread into modern LGBT politics and has "poisoned" everything. This is just a lie. The baeddels group never had enough members to spread that much, the group didn't last long enough, and it was almost entirely located on Tumblr. The people with "baeddel" in their url or bio or whatever these days have no connection to the political group of old, it's a reclaiming of a word used against them, as explained in the third paragraph.

If someone is calling trans women "baeddels" or talking about baeddels in their posts or whatever, they're just calling trans women faggots. It's "gay agenda," but for the transmisogynists. This is a small bit of why I can't take the "transandrophobia is real" crowd seriously. I knew actual baeddels, the ideological ones, they are not the women they're referring to. They are using a slur to refer to trans women they don't like and are trying to hide it behind some dead ideology that most of them don't even know.

Baeddel is meant to be a scary word, it's meant to silence women. Just like, 5 or 6 years ago, claiming a trans woman was a baeddel was enough to effectively get her "canceled," no matter what she said. But, that doesn't work as easily now. And now these trans masc people are getting information from terfs and lesbophobes and violent transmisogynists about how violent trans women are, about how privileged trans women are, about how transmisogyny is actually fake ("we all experience transmisogyny!") and they did this by lacing it with actual trans masc issues. They present an issue trans mascs do actually face, that could use discussion, and then in the very next post talk about the scary baeddels, the mean baeddels, trans women are so terrible. And these people assume this person can't have an ulterior motive, reblog it, file it away in their brain, so when trans women come in and are like "hey no that's bigotry" these trans mascs froth at the mouth to eviscerate her. It's the dreaded baeddel. Here to oppress me.

I'm going off topic but I digress, if you're calling trans women "baeddel," stop it. You don't know what that word means.

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x muggle wife!reader

Summary: James wants to take you out to one of his families' fancy parties. However, he underestimates how cruel people can be when someone is different.

Genre: Fluff, hurt and comfort / prequel - Enchanted

Warnings: swearing, insecurities, implied sexual relationship, mentions of having kids, cute banter 🥰

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

The candle shimmers in the room as you sit on the cushioned chair in front of your vanity. You admire your reflection in the dusty mirror and play with the silver pin in your hair. Usually, you love occasions where you can look your prettiest but, on this particular night, dread sits in your stomach.

You feel hands on your shoulders and your head leans back onto your nape as you look up. Your smile widens when you see his dark eyes and brown curls. His hair is slick with fancy gel and the smell of his citrus cologne allows your forming nerves to relax. "Hiya, lovie." He whispers hoarsely and kisses your nose as his hands slide down your arms. It sends goosebumps up your skin.

"Hi, James." You laugh quietly and sit normally.

He smiles at you in the mirror, "Y'ready?" He asks and your smile disappears. James's eyebrows crease and he lowers his head to sprinkle delicate kisses onto your neck and collarbone. You turn around carefully so you don't wrinkle the skin-fitted, satin, slip dress you're wearing and James's eyes follow your movement as you stand up next to him. He licks his lips cheekily, "Ravishing." He mutters.

You want to look unamused, but you smile wearily, "I'm nervous." You whisper.

"Whatever for?" James raises one eyebrow.

"They hate me." You reason and fiddle with his navy blue tie, "They hate everything I represent, Jamie. I'm filth to them."

James snorts and he wraps his arms around you. He kisses your temple, "It's a party. My party. You're my girl, no one will dare mess with you. You'll see my parents and my parents adore you, Y/n/n."

"I know. Of course I know that, but with Voldemort around and all this talk — " You start to mutter but James interrupts you with a sweet kiss. When he pulls away, he's looking into your eyes with a delicately serious expression. An expression so unlike him.

"No one can hurt you when I'm around," He promises. James is always so sure of himself. Some may call it overconfidence but for your sake, you can only pray this is one of the times where his confidence means he's right.

* * *

The Potter's ballroom is made out of expensive marble and lanterns, which drift in the air, illuminate the spacious room. Classical music plays as couples dance, women in elegant dresses drink their champagne in the corners, and older men converse with fancy cigarettes drooping from their wrinkled lips.

You can't help but feel out of place as you seem to be the only one who's enchanted by those lanterns and all the fancy named dishes on silver trays which look delicious and also weirdly disgusting.

James hasn't left your side all evening. Not when he meets up with his best friends, nor when his mother calls his name and wants to introduce him to someone. He guides you with him, his hand on the small of your back, and you smile at his mum, "Hello, Mrs. Potter." You say.

Euphemia Potter beams at you and leans in to kiss your cheeks. She looks down, "What a gorgeous dress, Y/n." She exclaims.

"It's an early anniversary present from James." Your cheeks become warm as you look down at your dress bashfully.

"Good boy." Euphemia chuckles and affectionately pats James's cheek. She turns to the woman next to her, "James, this is Matilda, Orianna's daughter. You remember her from your school years, yes?"

You and James look at Matilda at the same time. She's slim and bony. Her blonde hair is curled in ringlets around her shoulders and her perfume smells extremely expensive. You can't deny she's pretty and a new, uncomfortable, feeling forms in your chest.

Euphemia continues, "Matilda was asking how you were, Jamie, and I just couldn't resist bragging about my beautiful boy."

James nods, "I remember you from Potions our sixth year." He says with a polite smile and Matilda returns the smile with an ecstatic grin.

"Exactly! Oh, it's so nice to connect with you again!" She pauses and her sharp hazel eyes snap to you, "And who is this?" Matilda asks with fake sweetness.

"Y/n Potter." You reply tensely.

"Oh, so you're married." Matilda's smile falters.

"Last summer." James interrupts. He doesn't waste time outstretching his arm and wiggling his fingers as he shows Matilda his ring. It's a normal silver band but by James's excitement, he makes it seem like his ring is the rarest jewel he's ever owned.

If you asked him, it is.

"Isn't he all grown up?" Euphemia comments and Matilda stares at you as she nods absentmindedly, "Now, James, come help me choose a drink for your wife while she makes friends with Matilda," Euphemia says innocently. You turn to protest (you can easily choose your own drink) but his mother has already led James away.

You know Euphemia always means well. You don't have many friends in James's circle and she finds it important to introduce you to as many wizards and witches she knows.

You understand but, at the same time, you don't want to be alone with Matilda. She seemed like a sweet girl in front of James and his mum, but when she has you alone you suddenly feel like a lamb in a wolf's claws.

For good reason because she asks you, "So, I don't remember you from Hogwarts, Y/n? Were you a few years above us?" She fakes a smile.

Ouch, you think, you were two years younger than James.

"I didn't attend Hogwarts."

"Beauxbaton then?"

Hesitantly, you shake your head.

"Ilvermorny? Only, I don't hear an accent." Matilda frowns.

You feel a familiar fear sink in again. Should you have lied? The way Matilda's looking at you now makes you feel uneasy, "I-" You mutter and scan the room. You can't see James anywhere and your heart jumps in your chest at Matilda's next question.

"Are you a muggle?" She squints at you and then moves away a little, her eyes shimmering with disgust, "Oh my merlin, he's married to a muggle." She says and it's loud enough for a few other guests to turn their heads towards you.

You panic and mumble a quick, "Excuse me", as you walk away from her. You can't see your husband anywhere so you wander to the first person you recognize and touch his shoulder. Sirius Black turns around, a concerned look on his face when he sees you,

"Y/n?" He asks.

"Have you seen James?" You ask quietly, feeling foolish as tears brim your eyes.

"No. What happened?" Sirius's arms reach out to hug you and you quickly bury your face in his chest. You can't even form a sentence as all you can hear is cruel whispers as you feel everyone's eyes lock onto you.

"She's a muggle. James Potter married a dirty muggle." Matilda makes a scene childishly, pointing her bony finger directly at you and the entire party feels like it suddenly comes to a halt. You knew this would happen and you want to disappear.

"Don't talk about her like that," You hear your husband snap and you move away from Sirius a little, turning your head around.

"What's happening?” Euphemia asks quietly. You make eye contact with James and the moment he sees your tears, the drink in his hand falls to the floor and shatters at his feet. Striding towards you, he swoops you from Sirius's arms and almost crushes you to his chest.

Matilda narrows her eyes at him.

"You're a pathetic excuse for a witch," James insults her, a dark look in his eyes, and you wish he would stay quiet. His mother stares at him in shock but reaches for his arm anyway,

"Jamie, it's okay." Euphemia tries to calm him down but he's visibly furious now. She turns to Matilda and her family, "How dare you slander my son's wife in that manner? You have no business being here with those foolish and cruel opinions. You can leave my house this instant."

Matilda and her mother look practically appalled, "How could you allow this monstrosity to happen, Euphemia?" Her mother asks and some families look as disgusted as she is. Others look sympathetic and most of James's close friends and family look as furious as he is.

"Monstrosity? He loves her." Euphemia defends you adamantly.

"How can you possibly love a muggle?" Matilda asks James, cheeks flushed, and this time Sirius interrupts,

"Oh, you shut up. You're just nasty and jealous because no one wants a horrible woman like yourself."

Matilda gasps and she looks at Sirius with teary eyes. When she begins to cry loudly, her tears send the entire room into a frenzy. Some jump to defend her, while others start to defend your relationship with James.

In the commotion, your husband takes your hand and quickly leads you out the doors. Outside on the front stairs, you see him take out his wand from inside his blazer and suddenly your entire body jerks. In a few seconds, you find yourself in front of your home and you clutch your stomach.

James holds your hair as you vomit and he soothes circles on your back as he apologizes profusely,

"I'm sorry, my love. I'm so so sorry."

You catch your breath and wipe your mouth with your arm. Now you feel ashamed and gross. You straighten yourself and look at James. He looks extremely guilty. "Didn't I tell you that would happen?" You ask and dramatically slump into him for a hug.

He hugs you and kisses your forehead multiple times, "It shouldn't have, my darling. Matilda is a complete nutter. I don't even know why my mum invites her and her horrible family. Honestly, I know mum means well but she can be so daft sometimes." James squeezes you in his arms.

You smile into his shoulder, "I love your mum. She's always kind to me."

James pulls away and begins to move some hair away from your face, "They should all be kind to you. You're bloody amazing. The smartest and prettiest girl I know." He feels your shoulders drop and he kisses your forehead again, "Come on," He whispers and, with his hand on your back, he leads you inside.

James runs you a warm bath and he washes your body delicately as he tries to scrub away the harsh words and screams from the evening. Then, he dresses you in one of his sweaters and when you sit on the bed you share, James starts to braid your freshly dry and combed hair. It's domestic and you start to feel as fuzzy as the sweater on your skin.

"I love you." You whisper, barely audible but James hears you anyway.

"I would certainly hope so," He tries to lighten the mood as he finishes your braid and pushes your hair over your shoulder, "Otherwise, I would wonder why you married me."

You turn around. James cautiously moves your legs over his crossed ones and he pulls you closer to him, "I would marry you in every lifetime, Jamsey." You admit and he looks pleasantly surprised by your comment.

He smirks, "Even if I was a worm?" He raises his eyebrows teasingly, clearly amused by his own joke.

"Yes. If you were a worm, I'd also want to be a worm, silly.' You reason with a small smile.

"Seems impractical," James chuckles.

You kiss him. You can taste the lasting alcohol from the fancy cocktail he drank, and run a hand into his shaggy hair. "Jamsey," You whisper, burning to hear him say the words, "Tell me you love me?"

James smirks, "I love you, baby."

"And you love me even though I'm only a muggle?" You ask softly, suddenly feeling incredibly insecure that you'll never share something that is so much of who James is. You'll never share memories from Hogwarts, or truly understand the references he makes to the childhood wizard films he loves, and sometimes it still takes you time to remember all the wizard terms he uses when he talks.

James is not pleased with your question, however, "Y/n, do you love me even though I know magic?"

"Of course I do," You answer quickly.

"Then why on earth would you think I love you any less because you don't? I married you, for goodness sakes! You have that pretty ring on your finger to remind you of how much I love you."

James takes your hand and you chuckle when he kisses down your neck, "Okay, you're right, I'm sorry." You say and you feel reassured even when you didn't have to feel insecure. James loves you the way you are. He always has. You've known this from the very first I love you.

"Come on, honey, let's go to sleep." James kisses your cheek.

"Hmm, I was thinking we should do something else," You tease, kissing your husband's nose. James smiles at you and he starts to draw little tiny hearts onto your palm.

"What's that, my love?"

"James, I wanna have a baby." You say. James freezes and his eyes round. He looks at you hesitantly, unsure of his next words,

"You want to have a baby? Now?" He asks and you nod, "I-I don't know if we should — this isn't exactly the safest time to have a kid." James reasons and your heart drops.

He sees your expression and his heart breaks, "No, no, honey. I want a baby." He clarifies, "I just don't want to worry about another love in my life. I worry about you enough, darlin'." He jokes behind some sincerity and you squeeze his hand.

"I understand, James." You look at him and try to hide how sad this situation makes you but James can tell. He can always tell.

"You really want this?" He asks softly, "Even after what happened tonight?"

You let out a choked laugh, "I suppose. I just want a mini-you so badly."

James shakes his head with a smirk, "No, you don't. You know that baby will be an absolute headache if they're anything like I was."

"It'll be worth it," You mumble seriously.

You can see James think for a moment and then he beams and says, "Tell ya what, let's have our baby, yeah?"

"Yeah?" Your eyebrows raise in question.

James pauses a moment, "But, can we plan on staying with your parents for a while until things blow over? Just as a precaution?" He looks a little embarrassed to even ask.

You frown. James wants to live with your parents? Your muggle family? Your heart swells. When you married him, you'd both agreed to live with him in his world. Only a year ago it felt like James would never consider living somewhere where he couldn't access magic.

You look at him softly, "Are you sure?"

James nods and leans in to cup your cheeks, "Anything for you, my love. You and your happiness are the most important things in my life." You feel warm spread across your body as he kisses you and helps you climb into his lap. "I love you." He whispers into your ear as his hands lower themselves to your hips.

You kiss his face, all down his neck, until your hands trail down his stomach to his belt and you attach your lips to the crook of his neck. James lets out a shaky breath, "I love you more, honey." You say and sit up to caress his cheek, "Let's make that baby, yeah?" You grin.

"Don' have to ask me twice, love." James laughs in a mumble and turns you over, his arm wrapped around the small of your back as he presses his lips to yours.

[wileys-russo]

alessia russo, “how’d you get pizza sauce there??”, cozy night in!!

pizza party II a.russo

"-no, amore no!" your girlfriend protested as she saw what you'd grabbed out from the cupboard. "baby yes, yes!" you cheered happily, the can of pineapple chunks placed down onto the counter.

"thats an insult. you've insulted me, you've insulted the pizza dough, you've insulted the entire country of italy, you've-" alessia started to rant as you rolled your eyes unfazed by her behaviour.

"you're half italian russo, relax." you grinned, rummaging around in the drawer for a can opener. "russo!" your girlfriend gasped in disbelief at the use of her last name.

"you don't call me that. you may call me baby, babe, love of my life, my everything, my love, darling, sweets, angel-" alessia started to list, ticking them off on her fingers as you sighed and shook your head.

"are you done now?" you cut her off with a raised eyebrow, finally finding the can opener and standing up straight again. "no actually i'm not, there's still the italian names." your girlfriend warned as you sighed.

"amore mio, tesoro, vita mia, angelo mio-" the blonde again listed them on her fingers, only stopping when you gave yet another deep sigh. "you get the point. never russo!" the taller girl wagged a finger in warning and bumped you out of the way with her hip, taking the can opener where you were struggling.

"thank you love." you kissed her cheek expecting her to do it for you. "alessia!" you protested as the can opener was dropped back in the drawer, the pineapple then put on a shelf out of your reach as your eyebrows furrowed into an annoyed frown.

"ah! also off limits, try again." the girl made a buzzer noise with her mouth, grabbing out a knife. "why can't i have pineapple on my pizza?" you questioned crossing your arms as she ignored you and you rolled your eyes.

"why can't i have pineapple on mine baby?" you corrected as she looked up with a grin. "much better. and i told you, its an insult!" she bonked you gently on the head with a wrapped stick of pepperoni.

"pizza is supposed to represent diversity, freedom of choice! you can't police what i put on it." you warned as the taller girl shrugged. "alright, go get your pineapple then babe." she smiled slyly knowing full well it was out of your reach.

"you're insufferable." you grumbled with a huff. "you'll thank me when this pizza is the best thing you've ever tasted baby, trust the process and the italian." alessia grinned, shooing you away as you tried to help.

"half italian." you reminded, ducking as she tossed a mushroom slice at you with a frown. "i thought the point of date night was that we cook together!" you laughed, taking a seat at the counter and watching your girlfriend prep everything.

"don't you remember what happened the last time we cooked together?" alessia reminded as your face flushed warm and you buried it in your hands. "it was an accident!" you whined, looking up with a scowl as a cherry tomato hit you in the head.

"stop wasting food!" you tossed it back as she caught it and threw it in the bin. "safe hands." she smirked, blowing on them as if they were alight making you roll your eyes.

"this recipe doesn't even call for pepper! so i would be perfectly fine to help you my love." you smiled hopefully, the last time you'd tried you'd accidentally broken the pepper grinder and caused the entire casing of whole peppercorns to fall into the pasta your girlfriend had spent an hour making.

"you're very cute baby girl but not very convincing." the blonde smiled in amusement, still chopping things as you sighed, the two of you falling into conversation.

"right, come and assemble them." she waved you over once she'd rolled out the dough for the bases and chopped everything up. "are you going to critique my every choice?" you deadpanned as the striker grinned.

"only if its wrong." "well then you can make it for me, save the headache." "headache!" "yes, add that to your list of nicknames babe."

with a wink you left her to it, jogging upstairs to grab some extra blankets and a hoodie given the temperature had dropped significantly tonight and if the dark grey clouds hanging were saying anything rain would be due soon.

"pizza's are in, i'm just gonna clean up tesoro!" you smiled at the nickname, the girl very rarely ever speaking any italian, which you knew was because despite her boasting she hardly knew any.

gathering what you wanted you tossed them down the stairs not fancying tripping yourself over trying to carry them, a few soft thumps sounding as they hit the ground and you made your way after them.

you chuckled hearing alessia on the phone in the kitchen, knowing from the laughter every few seconds that she was talking to ella, only confirmed by the girl in question being put on speaker and singing out hello.

"its date night tooney leave us alone! go bother your boyfriend." the blonde chuckled ignoring her best friends whines that she missed her and joe was out of town with arlo on a boys weekend.

"yep love you love you love you-" alessia repeated as ella rambled on, eventually clicking end call making you laugh as the mancunian was cut off mid sentence right as the timer went.

"prepare to be amazed!" your girlfriend puffed her chest out proudly as you joined her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and hummed, gesturing for her to continue.

slipping on oven mitts she bent down and carefully grabbed out both trays. "less maybe one at a time baby." you warned as she scoffed, one pizza try in each hand and presenting them proudly as you clapped your approval.

everything was seeming fine as she turned to place them down, the air fragrant with the smell of the freshly cooked dough making your stomach rumble, not having eaten for hours now since you'd been running around doing errands all day.

though it all went wrong as your girlfriend tried to flick the oven closed with her foot, missing the door entirely as she kicked at air and lost her footing, your eyes widening as she went tumbling down to the ground, and the pizzas went with her.

"ah fuck!" the footballer swore as one of the hot trays brushed her arm, kicking them both away as she lay down now flat on her back and covered in marinara sauce and various toppings.

"oh my god less! are you alright?" you covered your mouth with your hands, peeking over the counter to take a look at her, an utterly defeated look on the older girls face as she let out a deep and defeated sigh.

"don't." she warned seriously looking up and seeing the corners of your mouth turn upward. but it was far too late as you also fell to the floor, clutching at your stomach and near dying of laughter as your body convulsed with amusement.

a few more beats of time passed before eventually your girlfriends own laughter joined you, the blondes eyes closed as her body shook and you managed to turn onto your stomach, crawling around the counter to where she was.

"oh lessi." you shook your head in disbelief at the sight in front of you, sat up on your knees and staring down with a pitiful smile as her laughter turned to slight giggles and her face was nearly as red as the pizza sauce covering her top.

"i was doing so well!" she groaned with another bark of laughter, covering her face with her arms. "you were doing so well baby, so well." you agreed with a giggle of your own, tugging her arms away as she pouted up at you.

"my cute little pizza." you teased poking at her as she whined and her foot kicked out at you before she sat up with another deep seeded sigh. "i'll get another batch of dough ready." the blonde groaned trying to stand as you shook your head.

"less, my love i adore you and you know i love your cooking. but i am starving and the prep and cooking for those two already took you nearly two hours. if i wait that long i am going to waste away!" you warned making her crack a smile.

"you go have a shower and i'll order us some pizza's to be delivered." you compromised as she made no move to fight you, both of you getting to your feet. "oh no no no! i am not showering again." you stepped back as she tried to draw you into a hug.

"but i need comfort and support right now!" the taller girl protested adorably as you held your ground and shook your head.

"after you shower, my italian stallion." you grinned as she slumped over with a defeated huff. "can we at least get garlic knots?" the striker mumbled as you nodded.

"yeah baby, i'll get you some garlic knots."

when she returned now freshly showered and changed your girlfriend found you curled up in the mountain of blankets and pillows you'd meticulously crafted for the ultimate comfort in the middle of the living room floor.

"hello you big dope." you laughed as she belly flopped on top of you, burying her face in your neck with a grumble back, hugging you tightly as a hand snuck up the back of her top to gently scratch up and down her back.

"less." you held back a smile as she pulled her head out and gave you a look. "how'd you get pizza sauce there?" you laughed, finger swiping behind her ear to collect a dollop of marinara tucked away there.

"i don't know!" the blonde whined flopping back down onto you with a moan of annoyance. "you know i think this takes the cake as being worse than the peppercorns, once we picked them out the pasta was still edible. more so than the floor pizza!" you teased softly.

"alessia!" you squealed as she bit your neck sharply, trying to shrug her away to no avail as her taller form was stretched out comfortably on top of you.

"sorry she's not here right now, try again later."

[myysaints]

Hi there! I have this silly idea where yuki is y/n (established - actress,singer etc) biggest fan and when lando and y/n officially confirmed their relationship, yuki on his quest to make sure that max will treat y/n right. Lando (borderline amused and annoyed) still try to prove himself to yuki bcs y/n is very fond of him (and provide great entertainment for her). I know this quite ridiculous and would understand if you declined it :)

°˖ ⊹ ꒰ LN4 ꒱ TREAT HER RIGHT─ LANDO NORRIS

LANDO NORRIS x f!singer!reader

genre — fluff

notes — thank you so much for the request! it was not at all ridiculous, i absolutely love this dynamic between lando and yuki !!! ik your request mentioned max, not sure if that was a typo? hopefully i got it right by going with lando :> hope u enjoy this one !!! xx (edit: LOL just realised i called u anon when your user is there TT so sorry bout that!!!)

landonorris

Liked by yourusername, yukitsunoda0511, danielricciardo, and 7,118,249 others

🏷  yourusername

landonorris   the sweetest melody i've ever known ❤️

view all 3,741,822 comments

danielricciardo   congrats lovebirds 🎉🕊

yourusername   miss you already :(

yourusername   don't mind me, just appreciating the sweetest boy ever... ❤️❤️❤️

yourusername   can't wait to see you soon !!!

yourusername   gonna write a whole album about how much i love u

landonorris   I'd love that

mclaren   Can't wait to see you in the paddock, yourusername ;)

Liked by yourusername, landonorris

If Lando had known this would happen, he’d have never made that Instagram post.

“YOU’RE DATING WHO?!”

The Japanese driver in front of him whirls around in his seat, eyes wide and mouth hung open in askance.

It’s rare that Yuki speaks to Lando; after all, their language and cultural barrier makes conversation difficult. But this is an entirely different situation altogether.

Lando grins sheepishly, casting a look towards Charles, who stands beside him. The Monegasque merely chuckles, leaning forward in his seat to peer at Yuki.

“So, do you know Y/N?” Charles asks with a cheeky smile.

“Do I know Y/N?!” Yuki is practically leaping out of his seat, his excitement causing the other drivers in the area to glance back at the commotion. “Of course I do! She’s the best singer of all time! I always listen to her songs!”

“Oh, are we talking about Y/N L/N?” Pierre, passing by, cuts in, “Yuki loves her. Has a huge crush on her and everything.”

Lando spreads his palms out, grinning. “Guess I’ll have to keep Yuki away from her when she comes to the paddock, hmm?”

The way Yuki’s eyes light up in glee doesn’t go unnoticed, the Alpha Tauri driver’s face breaking out into an uncontrollable grin.

“You’re bringing her! When? Where?!”

“Calm down, mate,” Lando laughs, leaning back in his seat. His heart flutters at the thought of you in McLaren colours, proudly representing him and his team in the paddock, for the world to see. He clears his throat, trying to stop the furious reddening of his cheeks. “You’ll see her at Suzuka. No rush.. I know my girlfriend's quite the catch - but so am I, right?”

At this, Yuki seemingly goes quiet.

Lando raises an eyebrow. “Yuki…? You okay there?”

A moment of silence passes before Yuki gets up, motioning for Lando to follow him. With a wary look towards an equally-confused Charles and Pierre, who both only shrug in response, Lando follows Yuki towards a quieter corner.

Once they reach a secluded spot, Yuki’s eyes darken, his smile dropping instantly. The shift in atmosphere is undeniable. Lando's never seen Yuki this serious, not even after the Spanish Grand Prix. In all honesty: It scares him.

“Lando,” Yuki says, his voice steeled and brows furrowed. “I like you. I think you’re funny, and you’re a good driver-”

“Hey, thanks man,” he jokes. The attempt at keeping the mood light, however, doesn’t work in the slightest.

“-But, look, listen, if you ever think of hurting her-”

“Sorry, are we talking about Y/N?” Lando’s head tilts in confusion.

“Yes, Y/N. If you ever hurt her,” Yuki continues, ignoring the shocked look on Lando’s face. “If you ever try to hurt her, just know that I will never forgive you. Ever. Do you understand?”

“I-” Lando shakes his head, his cheeks going pink. How do you even respond to that? “-Well, yeah, mate, of course. I only want the best for her. Really, I do.”

“Okay, good. 'Cause I’ll be watching you.” Yuki straightens up, a satisfied smile on his face. “Well, I’ll see you around, then! I will look forward to Suzuka.”

And, with a playful punch to the arm, Yuki is off, leaving Lando stunned at what just happened.

So, when Suzuka rolls around, true to his word, Lando shows up to the paddock with you on his arm.

The sight has Yuki running over instantly, a large bashful smile on his face as he greets you enthusiastically.

“Hi! You must be Yuki,” you smile softly, quietly amused at his enthusiasm. “Lando’s told me all about you.”

That was true - Immediately after Lando’s little… altercation, as one might call it, with Yuki, he’d texted you in a frantic hurry. It was, in all honesty, endearing, and incredibly funny. You’d teased Lando about it relentlessly in the days after. Plus, you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t used the Alpha Tauri driver’s words as leverage; referencing Yuki’s threat to get Lando to pick up some cupcakes, to let you pick the movie for date nights, and so on.

Lando hums in response, watching with an amused smile as Yuki almost trips over his feet trying to shake your hand. “Y/N, this is Yuki. And Yuki, this is… Well, you already know who she is.”

Yuki’s eyes are blown wide in amazement as he shakes your hand, his grip firm and his smile bright. “Wow, it’s so cool that you’re here! I love your new song, it’s already one of my favourites!”

You share a smile with Lando, who squeezes your side in a playful ‘I-told-you-so’ motion.

“Thank you so much, Yuki, that’s so sweet of you! Tell you what - If you let Lando past in the race, I’ll send you a signed copy of my new album, free of charge, before it even drops. How 'bout that?”

Yuki lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "No way! Maybe if Lando lets me through in quali today."

You exchange a grin with your boyfriend, who shakes his head in amusement.

"Alright, it was great seeing you, Yuki. Good luck out there," Lando fist bumps the smaller driver, who waves at you before departing with a pep in his step.

Lando's hand finds yours as you walk back to the McLaren motorhome.

"So, that was Yuki..."

"Yep," he nods in response, popping the 'p'. "What'd you think of him?"

You smile cheekily. "You sure it was him who threatened you that time? He seems so sweet!"

Lando scoffs, shaking his head despite the amused smirk that sneaks up on his face. "You haven't seen him when he's angry. He's a menace on the track, I'll tell you that."

The bright laugh that leaves your lips makes Lando's heart skip a beat, heat rising to his face at the look of joy you send his way. You never cease to make his heart flutter.

"Well, finish in the points, and maybe I'll put in a good word to Yuki then, hmm?"

"Alright, muppet. You can count on that."

"Well..."

You're lying on the bed in Lando's hotel room, his trophy sitting tall and proud on the dresser in front of you.

It's been a crazy past 24 hours. In just this one day, you've witnessed perhaps one of the greatest drives of Lando's career, and at your first ever race, on top of that.

Lando wraps you in his arms, flipping the both of you around so that you lie atop his chest.

You smile he gazes up at you, his chest rising and falling to the steady beating of his heart. You feel so at home in these moments, the in-between spaces of time where you have him all to yourself; no races to win, no cameras to look out for. Just you and him, and the spaces in between your fingers.

You laugh softly as he nudges his face into your neck. "Well, what?"

"Well, you still gotta thank Yuki," he replies, his voice muffled in the crook of your neck. "He let me by on the second last lap. Probably would've lost out on P3 if not for that."

You chuckle, instinctively reaching a hand up to play with his curls. Lando hums lowly, leaning into your touch.

"Thought you were scared of him?" you tease, a playful smile toying on your lips.

"Well, yeah," he mutters out, his tone of voice cheeky, a smile pressed against your skin. "Gotta stay on his good side."

That elicits a giggle from you, and he pulls away from your touch to look up at your smiling face. He cups a hand around your face and pulls you down into a kiss, the two of you breathless when you resurface for air.

"I'll send him a signed CD later," you mumble, leaning back down for another searing kiss. "But I don't wanna think 'bout him right now."

An appreciative hum leaves Lando's lips. "Why not?" he teases, pulling away with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Your reply has his breath caught in his throat.

"'Cause all I wanna think about is you."

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[bitter-me]

Hello,I am have been reading your work for quite sometime :), I really am loving them so far 😭💗 .I saw that your requests were open, so may I be able to ask for Dazai or Fyodor with male reader who are like Sunday from HSR, and could be in a enemies to lovers type relationship :D, the plot can be upto you :>

A Seraphim or..

Osamu Dazai | M. Reader as Sunday [Honkai Star Rail]

----------

"Who are you..? An Angel.."

----------

The Charmony Festival.

A once-in-an-era event held in the Country of Festivities, Penacony.

Members of the five great families, which together make up "The Family" on Penacony. As well as staff members of the Reverie, are united in welcoming the world to their home.

The Oak Family.

The Alfalfa Family.

The Bloodhound Family.

The Iris Family.

The Nightingale Family.

All important figures in Penacony.

But one stood out the most...

The man with a halo and wings. [Name].

The leader of the Oak Family. The organizer of the Charmony Festival and a representative of The Family of Penacony. The most important figure amongst them and the one holding the most power.

Who wouldn't be interested in a man like him?

With a charming smile and a soft voice, paired with his unique appearance... he's like an Angel.. no..

A Seraphim.

----------

The first time he laid eyes on him was at the Golden Hour. The moment he saw the man himself he thought he saw the heavens itself.

A Seraphim.

He thought.

But upon further observation... Dazai soon found a different answer..

His vibe seems a little.. sinister..

His smile barely even reaches his eyes.

His voice is soft and yet his tone is firm.

Either way, [Name] had caught his interest.

.

.

.

.

.

"Your radiant glow illuminates me! Your voice is as soft as an angel! I can't believe that I've met such an angelic being! Please make me the happiest man and kill me with these holy hands of yours."

What.

What did he just said.

What in Harmony's name did he just say?

[Name] can't help but chuckle as he pulls his hand away from Dazai's hold. What was that? A proposal?

"Aha.. you're quite funny, Mr. Dazai.. but I believe you've drank too many SoulGlad." He replied, trying to keep it casual and professional.

This man, this suicidal prick..

He's all talk and flattery. It never fails to get under his skin with how buddy-buddy he is. They're only acquainted and yet this bandaged man acts as if they're old friends. Does he even know who he's speaking to? He's [Name]! Leader of the Oak Family! The very mention of his name could silence a whole room and this man dared do such things to him!

"Now now~ I only drank a few~" Dazai reassured with a smile on his face. "Don't you want to go back home to heaven with me~?"

"I believe you'll be sending me down to the fiery pit instead of going up."

"Ouch! How cruel! Then how about we go to your manor?"

"Don't make me turn you down twice."

This.. man child.. what does his agency even see in him..

----------

"Oh, Triple-Faced Soul, please sear his tongue and palm with a hot iron, so he will not be able to fabricate lies and make false vows."

"...What have you done?"

"Under the light of the Harmony, all wickedness is revealed. I implore THEM to shed THEIR light, and I'll ask you questions on THEIR behalf. Next... you have 113 seconds to prove your innocence and gain my trust."

"And if I refuse to answer?"

"You can try — and we'll see if the Harmony rejects you."

It had finally led to this.

Both of them had taken off their masks. Revealing the true wickedness underneath. The suicidal maniac and the so-called leader of the Family.

Oh how he hated that man.

Acting like a child who believes he could get away with everything. It's time where [Name] to put his foot down and stand his ground. This entitlement will not go unnoticed by him and with THEIR radiant light.. he will find the truth..

And judge him as the Harmony see fit.

"Question: Do you have an ability?"

"Yes."

"What a simple answer. You, too, understand that idle chatter leads only to poverty."

"Did you neutralize your ability when you entered Penacony?"

"No. My ability nullifies others."

He already figured that out.. which is why he's holding this "trial" with THEM. For the power of the Aeon is far more powerful than any ability in the world. "Does the page of the Book you handed over to The Family belong to the agency?"

Honestly, he never would have thought the Armed Detective Agency would use such an item to bargain their way into Penacony. Something as powerful as the Book. A page of the Book.

It's a given why he allowed them to enter the dreamscape when they bargained such an item.

"Yes."

"Is the Page of the Book in this room right now?"

"Yes."

"Is your memory free from any kind of tampering or deletion, encompassing but not restricted to the techniques of the Garden of Recollection?"

"Yes."

"Are you a former executive from Port Mafia?"

[Name] continues to ruthlessly question him without missing a beat. Dazai furrowed his eyebrows at the question. Something that doesn't make sense. How could [Name] know such things? "Yes. You even know about that?"

"Does your agency and the Port Mafia have any ability to read, tamper with, or manipulate one's own or another's mind?"

"No. Does it matter?"

"Do you love your family more than yourself?"

Okay where is he getting at here... the questions are getting more and more personal. "Yes."

"...Do you hate and wish to destroy this world with your own hands?" [Name]'s expression turned serious as he narrowed his eyes, his perpetual smile seemed to widen slightly. "...I don't know."

"Interesting. Now, the final question..." [Name] breath out, putting his hands behind his back. "Can you swear that at this very moment, the page of the Book is safe and sound in this box?"

Dazai seems to hesitate a little, thinking of a way to get around this. He always has a plan after all. "...Of course."

[Name] hums as his smile turns a little more sincere. "Looks like we can get an answer."

"Open it, Mr. Dazai... It's your last chance to defend your honor."

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Aren't you happy, Mr. Dazai? You'll finally get your wish in seventeen system hours, the end that you desire so much. Off you go, Mr. Dazai. You are free. I will wait here for your good news."

"Maybe one day.. no.."

"In another universe..."

"I can learn how to love you too.."

[pradabambie]

part 2 to this ask - rafexreader fight.

i'm finally back!! yay

let me know if you like this and remember request are always open <3 help your girl out in the creativity department hehe

it's been two weeks since you last saw or talked to rafe, and he was losing it.  

normally, you two were practically inseparable, spending every moment together, a routine rafe had grown accustomed to. 

his attempts to reach you were relentless.  

he spammed your phone with calls and texts, even emails. he not only contacted you, but all your friends. he even showed up at your house a couple times, your parents insisting on the instructions you gave them: you didn't want to see him. 

rafe even visited places you frequented, hoping for an encounter. today, luck was on his side. he spotted you sorting through the apples in your little pink gym shorts, and tapped your shoulder, careful not to startle you as you focused on the music coming out of your headphones. 

you looked up at him, rolled your eyes and pressed pause on the spotify app "leave me alone, rafe" you asserted. 

but as then you looked into his eyes, worn and red, dark bags under them. his hair was messy, and you could tell he hadn't shaved in a couple of days. his plea cut through the air. 

"please, i'm beggin you. let me buy you a coffee or something. i need to talk to you. i need you. i miss you." his words were interrupted by a shaky sigh that left your lips. 

"okay," you said, staring at him expressionlessly. 

"what?" 

"yes, okay, rafe. pick me up at six, and i'll have one cup of coffee with you. that's it." 

a sudden grin lit up his face. "yes! yes, of course. i'll pick you up—" 

"i have to go. see you later," you cut him off, not allowing him to finish. 

the hours leading up to the meeting felt like an eternity for rafe. this coffee date represented his chance to mend things. 

at exactly six, rafe, dressed in a shirt he remembered you liked, stood outside your door. you noticed his effort—neatly combed hair, a hint of cologne. 

you greeted him with a nod, signaling readiness to get it over with. rafe, attempting to conceal his nerves, led you to his car. 

the drive to the cafe was filled with awkward silences. once there, you both ordered drinks, enveloped in the familiar aroma of coffee. rafe took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. 

"i don't even know where to start," he admitted, eyes focused on his coffee cup. 

you remained silent, waiting for him to continue. rafe took a moment to choose his words carefully, realizing the significance of what he was about to say. 

"look, i messed up, okay? i took you for granted, i realize that. i miss us, and i can't stand being without you," he confessed, his gaze pleading for understanding. 

you listened quietly, sipping your coffee, contemplating whether his words carried genuine remorse or were just another attempt to manipulate your feelings. 

"i've been reflecting on everything, and i want to change. i want to be the person you deserve. please, give me another chance." 

your response was measured. "i want to believe you, rafe, i really do. but how do i know this isn't another one of your little games?" 

he pulled a red velvet box from his pocket, revealing a silver ring with your birthstone right in the center. "i got this for you. i know this doesn’t fix things, but it's a start. i remember you talking about a promise ring or something like that." 

your eyes lit up looking at the ring, you had to admit rafe's good taste remained intact. 

 “it's gorgeous, rafe, but you can't buy me with this, okay?" 

"i know. it's just a little visual aid. i want you for life. i promise to show you i'm committed to this, to you." 

you paused, studying his words. the silence heightened rafe's anxiety. 

"let's just say you're on probation," you finally said. "but i swear, rafe, mess up once, and—" 

before you could finish, strong arms wrapped around you, lifting you off your seat, showering you with kisses. "yes, baby, anything you say," rafe declared, filled with newfound hope. 

[varpusvaras]

fully inspired by this post by @rooksunday. Fox can never have a calm day, can he?

Cody is already in the process of ripping his hair out when Fox runs in.

Quite literally runs. It is for the mere laws of physics that he hadn't gone through the door, though Cody thinks that it had been really close to happening anyway with how fast Fox barges in.

"Cody!" Fox yells. Very loudly, even though he is already at Cody's desk, almost going through it too. He slams his hands on the edge of the desk to stop himself, and he almost careens over the desk with the sudden stop. He manages to stop before it, but is now bent halfway over the desk, and is right at Cody's face. "Cody!"

"I heard you the first time", Cody says, grimacing at the volume. "What is it?"

Perhaps he should be worried. Fox looks like he is going to explode at any second, with his eyes wide and his breathing erratic. His new, nice clothes are very ruffled, most likely from running, and his fancy new cape is only partially clasped. It is not a state Cody has ever seen Fox. His meticulous, top-of-his-class brother, who always had even the seams of clothes in place.

"How did this happen?" Fox asks. "How?"

Alright, he should be worried. Fox is never cryptid. Always blunt and to the point, sometimes even too much, the little prick.

"How did what happen?" Cody asks. He is up from his chair now, and making it to the other side of the desk. "Fox, breathe a little."

Fox does breathe. He takes in a deep gulp of air, and looks at Cody like Cody is the one asking stupid and cryptid questions.

"The marriage!" Fox yells. "How did it happen?"

Now Cody is even more confused and concerned. Is there something wrong? The new Chancellor had seemed so nice, and Fox had been friendly with him until now. Had it all been a ruse? Had Cody, while being overwhelmed with everything, managed to get his little brother married to some kind of monster, who had only now revealed his true colours?

No, that would not stand. Cody needs to know exactly what's going on, right now.

"Fox", Cody grabs him by the shoulders. "What is going on? Are you alright?"

Fox doesn't look hurt, thank the gods, but he is still out of breath and looking at Cody with his eyes blown huge. Then again, they had all been trained to be able to sustain various injuries, so Cody would have to make sure-

Fox blinks, and then laughs, borderline hysterically.

"Am I alright?" He asks. "Am I alright? No! No, I am not! And I need you to answer my question! How did this happen? How did this whole disaster even go through?"

Cody tries not to be frustrated at not getting any answers out of Fox. He breathes in deep himself. He needs to stay calm, since Fox, for the first time ever, is not.

"I'm sorry", he says. "For putting you through it. I never should've. I-"

Fox grabs him by the shoulders as well, almost knocking Cody's hands away.

"Shut the hell up", he is suddenly snarling. "I don't care, I just need to know who authorised it."

"I did." Cody is...more confused about what is going on, now. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising", Fox says. "Who else? Who else was approving with this?"

"The Chancellor and the Queen of Alderaan", Cody answers. The Chancellor, of course, Cody had done his negotiations with the man, but he had heard that the Queen had to authorise the whole marriage as well. It had sounded logical, as the Chancellor had been the former Senator of Alderaan, and thus still representing the whole system as well-

Fox starts laughing again. He lets go off Cody and puts his head in his hands, which makes the laughing sound more like he is crying.

"Fox", Cody shakes him a little. "Fox'ika. What's wrong?"

"The Queen of Alderaan authorised the marriage between me and the Chancellor", Fox mumbles against his hands.

"Yes?" Cody is seriously starting to feel like he has missed something big.

"The Queen of Alderaan", Fox repeats, "authorised my marriage with Chancellor Organa of Alderaan."

"Yes." Cody needs to go to his files and look through them again-

"Her Majesty", Fox says, "Queen Breha Organa of Alderaan, authorised me to marry her husband."

Cody stares.

Fox lifts his head from his hands a bit to look at Cody.

"I need a drink", he says.

Cody nods. He needs a drink too.

He lets Fox sit on the comfier chair and takes up the other one for himself, after he has fetched a nice bottle of some bright red liquour from his cabinet. A gift, for the new leader of the Vode.

The label tells him it's Alderaanian liquour.

Cody pours Fox a full glass, and then hides the bottle.

[sukunasdumbestchef]

way how i see you.

True form!Sukuna x Blind!Fem!reader

꒰You are the one and only wife of the King of Curses, but you don't just have this peculiarity… you are also blind. And painting is your way of painting and trying to represent what you see, even if it's just a little.꒱

Fluff, but cheesy.

BAD ENGLISJ SORRY😭

It was actually a secret… blindness. No one suspected…not even the King, Sukuna Ryomen. You hid it so well.

For obvious reasons, your life changed drastically after your vision got worse, the world around you lost its colors and beauty every day. Your world became just silhouettes moving around, almost colorless and blurred. But, you were aware of some things, just by looking at the silhouettes, you know how to differentiate an animal from a human, or if someone uses hair accessories. You weren't completely blind, but you were blind enough to be considered blind and have difficulties.

Uraume was the first to suspect, they were going to your room to hand over your newly cleaned kimonos. Uraume pushed the door open with an elbow. It was at the same time that you were combing your hair, your room lacked a little light, the candles had run out at the moment. You placed the comb where you thought the table was, but the comb ended up falling. You crouched down, trying to look for the lost comb on the floor, as the comb was clearly next to you. But they did not talked, nor did they mention this to the king.

Sukuna became suspicious when you two were at the table. In an attempt to get the chopsticks, you put your hand in a completely far place. It wasn't your fault, the chopsticks were the same color as the table! You tried again, nervous and hoping your husband wasn't looking at you. You went wrong again, you swallowed hard. You only realized where the chopsticks were when you turned your head drastically.

"…" Sukuna obviously noticed this. So the dots connected in his cruel head: Didn't she see where they were? Maybe… it makes sense, this woman is "strict" with how Uraume serves her food, she asks that the rice be placed in a light-colored bowl, if possible, in a light yellow bowl… and things like that...

"Wife. Are you blind?" Sukuna asked, without further ado. You felt your heart lock… could it be now? The truth?

"Sukuna…I, yes I am blind, please my king forgive me for keeping it a secret!" You soon explained yourself, standing up and crouching in respect. You thought he was angry, but he was surprised. He realized that you were not a silly woman, you are a very smart woman, no one suspected that you were blind… not even the king!

And that's how your life changed, Sukuna didn't even ask and you already explained your condition. You explained that you weren't completely blind, but you made her life difficult. Sukuna, like a husband who doesn't say 'I love you' but would burn the world for you, did everything he could to help you, Uraume helped you more.

You were an artist too, you painted several pictures. First, Sukuna thought they were cute and that was it. However, upon discovering your lack of vision, he began to see your paintings differently… it was you representing the world… through your eyes, how you imagine the colors, from the memory of when you could still see the colors…

Sukuna was stuck, looking at his painting where you had made him. He remembers saying in the past how different their brands were, but now he understands. "I'm more surprised, woman, you actually almost managed to draw my marks… Did you do what you imagined they would look like?" Sukuna asked, you next to him nodded.

"I could see the spots on your wrist, they stand out against your skin. The ones on your face are harder to see…" you explained. Sukuna took you in his arms, you were confused because you didn't expect this all of a sudden. "Sukuna?"

"Um, give me your finger." He took her index finger. Her heart warmed as she felt him trace his marks with his finger. You got closer to his face, getting a better look.

"Wait… you have a mini eye underneath? I thought you only had 3 eyes…" Sukuna smiles.

"It's small." Sukuna replied, getting her down from his arm.

"Oh, Kuna! I need to paint you again!" She said, looking at him with a cute smile. Sukuna saw her pull out a painting, and sit at her desk. Sukuna sat right next to her, very close to her. "Kuna… this tone looks strange, does this pink look like your hair?"

"Yes? I don't understand anything about this color thing… I don't care." You sighed, but started painting. You approached him very closely, to see his features up close. He gives you a peck, "You're so close." He complained, you laughed.

He pulled you onto his lap, so it was easier for you to see him. He felt her soft hand contouring his sharp features. Analyzing, Sukuna held her closer. It was such a rare moment, so warm…

But Sukuna closed his eyes in pain when she accidentally stuck her finger in his eyes. "Stupid, woman. Do you want to make me like you, you bastard?"

"I didn't think it was funny Sukuna, it was by accident…"

"Whatever, get it over with. My ass is going to hurt if I sit here for so long."

"HUSH!"

I have a version of this same theme with a longer story and angsty in the middle… do you want me to post it?

long story version

[milkandhwaney]

all my works can be found here

Bake Me

Summary: things get a little steamy in jongho's kitchen.

WC: 1.9k

Tags: a bit of degradation, dom!jongho, choking, food involved (kind of), oral, fingering, some manhandling, unprotected sex (don't do this), fem!reader

Disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction and in no way represents the members

"And..... done!" Jongho wiped away the sweat pooling above his brows. He had been working overtime in the bakery for the past week. A big catering order for a very important client was coming up, so all hands were needed on deck. He had agreed to stay late and close the shop alone until the event prep was done.

Jongho carefully placed the assorted pastries into the fridge, making sure not to drop anything.

"Finally done?" You exclaimed, popping your head around the corner. As a staff member with the catering company, you were asked to oversee the bakery throughout the week to make sure things were staying on track. You were also a baker yourself, being there to offer an extra hand if needed. Unfortunately, that meant you also had to stay until everything was closed up, which meant it had been just you and Jongho in the evenings since the week started.

"Yes," Jongho sighed heavily, taking a seat at the table. He dropped his head onto the marble surface, feeling the cool touch on his face. "Feels good to be done, I'm exhausted."

"I bet," you smiled lightly, taking the empty seat beside him. You had met Jongho briefly a few times in the past when you were asked to supervise, but this is the first time you actually spent a decent amount of time in his presence. You couldn't help but notice the way his bangs swept across his face, how his nose scrunched in focus, and the little sounds of frustration he'd make when things weren't going his way. You'd be lying if these small moments, and the conversations you exchanged, didn't pique your interest. He seemed like a really sweet guy, and my god, was he one of the most handsome one's you had ever met.

Admittedly, you'd fantasized about him during your regular routine of self-pleasure during the week and wanted to know more.... To discover his body. Thinking about it made you shiver with desire.

"How have you been?" Jongho suddenly interrupted your thoughts, "I know you've been running around a lot trying to make sure things are okay."

"Could be better, but I'm hanging in there. Neither side of this job is easy," you said.

"Tell me about it," he stretched himself out in the chair, "but we've finally reached the end of agony!" The two of you shared a laugh before he offered you something to drink. "Do you want water or anything?"

You nodded. "Sure, water is good, thank you."

He gave you a small nodded and stood up to walk over to the fridge. You watched the way his body swayed, how his muscles flexed. You were lost in thought until you heard an indescribable sound snap you out of it. You looked up and noticed the giant bag of flour on the shelf above the fridge was about to slip off the edge. When Jongho opened the fridge, it must have bumped the wall slightly.

"Jongho!" You yelled, throwing yourself off quickly from the chair and running over to where he was standing to catch it, "Watch your head!" He gave you a confused look before you two suddenly ended up on the floor, flour everywhere. "Are you okay?" You asked.

He let out a cough, trying to swat away the flour that was filling the air. It was hard to breathe, feeling a bit like you were caught in smoke. "Yeah," he said, his voice sounding rough, "are you?"

You nodded, trying to gain your balance again so you could get up. You both paused for a moment when you realized how you were positioned. You were straddling him on the floor, your hand nearly on the crotch of his pants. You looked down to notice the center button of your shirt had popped open during the fall and your lacey, black bra was now slightly visible. "Um," you cleared your throat, "let me get up."

You felt Jongho's hand grip your wrist, keeping you from being able to stand up. "Wait," he said, looking you up and down, "I don't.... mind staying like this for a minute."

You gulped, your heartbeat increasing in speed as you looked back at him. You tried to relax, but it was extremely hard to do so. To be this close to Jongho, touching him.... All you wanted to do was grab him by the collar and stick your tongue down his throat. It wasn't enough to just be sitting like this.

"You have such beautiful eyes," he said, "I never noticed before." He rested one hand on your cheek and propped himself up on his free elbow so you two were now face to face. "And your lips....." he trailed off, stopping himself from saying more.

No, don't stop. Say more. Please. You thought.

"Jongho," you said softly, so much so that it came out as nearly a whisper, "can I, um.... fuck, how do I say this?" He looked at you with concern, but didn't say a word as he waited patiently for you to finish. You've always been one to easily articulate your feelings, but for some reason, it was harder with Jongho. Whenever you were on a date or in the club, you'd be direct if you wanted to makeout, fuck, leave - anything, you name it. "I-" you started again, closing your eyes to take a deep and mustering up the courage to finish speaking, "I want to fuck you. Right now."

Jongho's eyes widened, and he wasted no time before slamming his lips onto yours. He moved the arm that was holding your face to now wrap around your waist, pushing himself up off the ground with the other. Just by looking at him you could tell he was strong, but damn? From a seated position with no support? Fuck.

He placed you gently, yet somehow roughly, onto the counter. You threw your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss. You couldn't be close enough. Wetness began to form in your panties as his thighs rested between your legs, standing dangerously close to your heated core. He gripped your thighs, letting out a soft growl. That got you going even more, causing you to bite down on his lip. He groaned again.

Jongho began kissing your chin, making his way down to your collarbone and leaving sweet bruises all over. "Fuck," you moaned, pulling at his hair. His kisses moved lower and lower until he reached your waistband.

"Can I?" He asked politely, anticipation dripping from his tongue. His low voice was so sexy, you could get off just from him speaking to you like that. You nodded, and he swiftly unbuttoned and pulled them down so all you were left in was your black thong and white blouse. You began unbuttoning your top to speed things up. You were so hungry for him you couldn't wait any longer.

As your blouse slipped off of your back, you felt his fingers push aside your panties, his tongue entering you. You arched your back, gripping at the edges of the counter. He nibbled slightly with his teeth resting outside of your hole, sending a new wave of pleasure through your body. "Jongho," you moaned, throwing yourself back so aggressively you almost pushed yourself off the countertop. Jongho's strong, continuous grip on your thighs kept you steady in place, and your jerking motion only cause his tongue to move deeper, hitting your g-spot. You yelped in euphoric bliss, reaching up to play with your breasts as he continued to eat you out. "I think I might-"

He pulled away, knowing exactly what those words meant. He didn't want you coming just yet, and as annoyed as you were with the sudden loss of pleasure, you didn't want to, either. You still needed his cock inside of you. His arms around your throat. Him calling you a slut.

He stood up from his kneeling position, removing all of his clothing quickly. He leaned in to kiss you again, sucking at your tongue as he placed his fingers on your back to unclip your bra, you allowing it to slide down your arms and onto the floor. He gripped your waist, pulling you forward to position you right where he wanted for access.

"Fuck me, already," you begged between kisses.

Jongho laughed, "So impatient," before slamming into you.

Despite how big he was, you adjusted quickly. He kept a steady pace, not too fast and not too slow. You could feel the veins of his cock rubbing against your g-spot, your pussy becoming wetter with each thrust. You moved one hand down to your clit and began rubbing, slowly. "Mmmm," you hummed, biting your lip as you looked straight into his eyes.

You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as he slightly picked up the pace. "Fuck, that's so hot, baby," he moaned, not breaking eye contact. His eyes darkened as your moans got louder.

"Jongho, babe, I need you to fuck me like a slut."

He gritted his teeth, lifting one of his hands from your waist to latch onto your throat. "Oh?" he snickered, beginning to pound your pussy into oblivion, "is that what you want?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll show you how much of a slut you are."

You didn't think he could fuck you any faster and harder, but indeed, he did. You were nearly screaming, tears forming in the corner of your eyes with close to an unbearable amount of pleasure and pain seeping through every fiber of your body. "FUCK!" You rubbed your clit faster as Jongho continued to fuck you hard, tightening his grip around your neck.

"That's it, baby, just like that. Such a dirty little slut." He hissed.

You felt Jongho was nearing his climax, as were you, when all of a sudden he picked you up, placed you onto your feet, turned you around, and slammed your chest up against the fridge before immediately returning to fucking the shit out of you. You have no idea how he managed to do all of that in under five seconds, but it just brought you closer to the edge, the way he man-handled you. He pulled your hair back and bit your neck, growling. "Is this what you wanted, my pretty little slut, huh?"

"Yes!" You screamed, your eyes beginning to roll back, palm pressed firmly against your clit.

"I don't think I want you coming with your hand," he demanded, swatting yours away so he could replace it with his. "You've been enough of a slut, so it's my turn to make you come for me," his voice was low and full of lust, his cock continuing to fill up your juicy pussy. "I want to hear you scream, baby."

You let yourself go, screaming louder than you ever have, your liquids dripping down between your thighs and onto the floor. "Jongho, Jongho, Jongho!" You said his name repeatedly. Jongho grunted loudly along with your screams as he reached his peak, filling you up with his load. The two of you breathed heavily, legs feeling like jelly. You had to let yourselves just slide onto the floor for a moment. You sat there, arms around each other, Jongho peppering gentle kisses on the top of your head as you both came down from your highs.

When you came to, you realized how much of a mess you were. You were covered in flour again, so lost in your steaming sex session that you both forgot about the incident that led up to it.

"So, now what?" You asked, sighing a bit at the work that still need to be done.

"We clean, fuck, clean, then fuck again." Jongho winked.

This was going to be a long, tiring, and exiting night.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

WARDROBE MALFUNCTION!

A smol bird requested for this to be written and so here I am, playing fairy godmother! If any of you have any sort of requests, just drop me a dm as I am revived from my death and ready to write more delulus as your solulus!

Context: What happens when your outfit decides NOT to cooperate with you? What will the boys do for you?

Disclaimer: This one-shot is created with me studying their lore on various websites and social media so that I could get a better idea on what colours they like/represent and what style they lean towards. Some of you may disagree but its okay! You can read it as it is and add in your own imagery of a suitable outfit by your hubbies! Warnings: Fluff that might rot your brains.

RAFAYEL

"I am almost done with this piece," Rafayel spoke, eyes still glued to his canvas, one hand holding up his messily stained colour palette, while the other held the brush as he drew strokes across the canvas. "Why don't you go and get changed as you wait for me to finish off this bit, yeah?"

"Yes sir." You quirkily replied and you stood up, spotting him sending you a teasing look given the way you addressed him. Earlier on, some strangers had came by Rafayel's mansion with Thomas to deliver some clothes. Apparently, these clothes are custom made by those luxurious brands specifically for Rafayel. Thomas addressed it as this was one of the ways the luxury brands show their support towards Rafayel's works. ONE OF THE WAYS... At this point, you are convinced that Rafayel is a huge deal and having luxurious brands begging on their knees to work with him sounded like a dream that would never come true to you.

The dress that sat on the bed was delivered for you as well, as per Rafayel's request. There was objection amongst the team that were handling the sponsorship and ambassador deals for the brand. But Rafayel spoke through the phone like he owns the company. "If she does not get a gown, then our business ends. Right now." He hung up abruptly, and the next thing he knew, the dress showed up at his door in less than 30 minutes.

Any brands, regardless luxurious or not, knows the right way and only way to please Rafayel. One wrong move and you are off the chart and some other brand may easily replace you. Hence, nobody dares to mess with Rafayel. Except for you. "The dress on the bed is yours!" He shouted from the living room and you picked up the dress.

The chiffon textured dress is of a forest green colour, going all the way down to your ankles. The strapless design made you gulped as you are not used to outfits of this measure, given the nature of your work, whereas your attire has to be 'appropriate for work in times of need'. Touching the inner material, you sighed in relief as you realised that there was bra padding for you hence you do not have to go all the way out to get a new bra just for this event.

Putting on the dress and zipping it up was easy, and you fit almost perfectly into the dress. The keyword being ALMOST. As you lifted your hands up, the dress started sliding down like it is a floatie on a wet water slide and woop, off it went and onto the ground. You panicked, bending down in one fell swoop and trying to gather the dress so that you can pull it up to your chest again.

But it does not let you go past the waist area unless you unzip it. Groaning, you struggled to find the zip as the dress is really puffy and you did not want to ruin the designer dress. "Is everything okay?" Rafayel stood at the doorway, leaning against the side of his door, as he watched you with amusement written all over his face. He has been standing there for quite a while hasn't he?

You gasped, pulling whatever that is on the floor to cover your chest area and he walked over, analysing the dress and scowling when he found out the reason. "I should have gotten them to measure you instead of just bringing you a standard fit." He took his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen a couple of times. His eyes looked back at you and you bit your lip in embarassment. "Your curves are way too beautiful to be hidden amongst this pile of leaves."

His comment made you giggled. Guess he has the same thought as you. "Toss the dress aside darling, I will get you a new one." Another few taps of the finger, he shows you the dress he has in mind. A purple dress with extravagant sleeves, puffing out like how a jellyfish would and you instantaneously knew why he opted for this dress. "I like purple better anyways."

"But wait Rafayel... this dress is not entirely scrap, maybe I can sew a temporary knot on it to tighten the top so it won't fall off. And there is really no need for you to get another custom one for me as we are running out of time." Your suggestion made him stare at you, purple-blue pupils blown wide as if he has really just witnessed a shark eating grass. iykyk.

He walked over and grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close to him, so close that you could hear the sound of his heart against yours. But at this moment, maybe he could hear yours louder than his. "Nobody can put a price on your love for me. EVER. But, I can sure as hell throw out any price on anyone, regardless the amount, as a representation of how much you worth to me." You looked away immediately, eyes stared at the arms that were holding you in place. He kissed your forehead, chuckling, before he pressed his phone against his ear. "Now, let's see who can make this dress for the price I am willing to pay in 30 minutes time." he makes me feel something

ZAYNE

You waited on a bench in front of Akso Hospital. You figured it would be a great idea to wait for Zayne as he finishes work early today and you might be able to grab dinner with him. You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone, looking through your daily for-you-page before a shadow loomed over you. You looked up and no doubt, it is Zayne aka the great and almightly Elsa.

"How long have you been sitting here?" He asked you, before handing you a candy that he had fished out from the pocket of his trench coat. "I was planning to meet you slightly later at your condo." The thought of him initially wanting to surprise you made your heart fluttered. You see, Zayne is a more upfront guy so having him to plan surprises are one of the uncalled scenarios.

"I had only been here for a couple of minutes." You lied, taking the candy out of his palm and unwrapped it before you tossed it into your mouth. The raise of his eyebrow towards you made your breath hitched as he knew you too well that you could not lie to him in his face. "Fine, I had waited here since 5pm." This made Zayne looked down at his wrist watch.

"So it's been an hour and 15 minutes?" He side eyed you and you admitted it by nodding your head. "Next time, it would be better if you were to just wait for me at home. If it wasn't for a full deck today at the hospital, I might just be covering shifts for other people and that might be inconvenient for you." But, he himself actually noticed you exactly an hour and 15 minutes, from his office's window, before his upcoming surgery. He had another three surgeries lined up for the night, but fearing that you may end up waiting the whole night for him, he decided to cancel his schedule for the night and transfer the case to other doctors. Even workaholics take a break. iykyk

"But I just wanted to come over to check up on you. I even chose to sit outside so that you would not be distracted as you are working." You pouted, hands picking at the hem of your shirt. You felt Zayne's hand landed on the top of your head, a gesture of love and comfort. He patted and smoothed your brunette strands back and you stared up at him. "I shall wait for you at home next time okay?"

"Now that's a good girl." killmeplease Zayne smiled warmly. "Now, lets get you back alright? My car is parked right by the road side. Come on." Hands around your waist, he slowly walked you over to his car. The smell of his cologne lingered on your nose, the smell of mint and dashes of cinnamon. Just like his personality, icy as mint but warm and welcoming as cinnamon once you get to know him.

He opened the car door for you and as you walked over to get into the car, your shirt got hooked against one of the metal wires that went astray from the metal fencing and the next thing you heard was the sound of a ripping cloth. You yelped as you stumbled and Zayne slotted himself right in front of you, shocked as well and using his body to block you from falling further. "Oh my..." Your cursed under your breath as your hands were against his washboard abs, steadying yourself. doublekill

He guided you into the car slowly before getting into the driver side himself. When he had started the car and turned on the air conditioning, he turned to look at you. "How bad is the rip?" He asked and you lifted the hem of your shirt, showing the rip that is around 4cm long.

"Why does this have to happen to one of my favourite shirt?" You frowned, fingers won't stop touching and fidgeting with the ripped edge.

"Do they still sell this shirt?" Zayne asked, hands reaching over to tug against the shirt, as if to examine the material of the outfit. The shake of your head made him sigh and he gestured to the glovebox. "Open the glovebox and take out the black pouch please."

You did as you were told and you watched in confusion as he took off his trench coat and placed it onto your lap. The coat still radiating warmth that was collected off of his body heat. He opened the black pouch and laid it flat on the arm rest of his car, and inside of the pouch was an array of threads and needles. "Are these suture needles?"

"Yes." His response was prompt. "Take off your shirt and hand it to me please." He requested and you gulped. Using the trench coat to block his view, you slowly took off your shirt and then wrapped his trench coat around your whole front. You knew that he had probably seen many naked bodies given his line of work but something about this scenario, with you being with him only in a car, felt very intimate and it made you very anxious. "You know how to sew?"

"I am a doctor, I know how to suture. And it is the same concept as sewing, but only with different kinds of needles and threads." He then started sewing, his concentration a trait you find admirable. It did not took him long when he finished sewing your shirt and he handed it back to you, the thread sewed on has gaps of equal length and was tied off neatly. As expected of one of the top doctors from Akso Hospital. As he started driving, he added. "Although I had managed to sew the shirt for you, I believe with my connections, I would be just as capable to find you the same shirt. Then, you would never have to complain about this being your only favourite shirt."

XAVIER

You were going about your day in your own house before you heard your doorbell ringing. You placed your bowl of cereal down and took a glance on the clock on your phone. Who dares to threaten your peaceful weekend? You went over to the door and you opened it to reveal your blond hair lover. "Xavier?" You asked, eyebrows furrowed when he smiled at you.

"Good morning, I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He teased and stepped in, holding out a parcel for your. "I believe this belongs to you?" The small rip at the top side of your parcel indicated that he probably took a peek on what's inside. Acknowledging the parcel, you took it off of his hands and you blushed, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind your ear.

"Good morning to you too. I guess I might have accidentally wrote your level instead of mine." You bit your bottom lip and you heard him chuckle in return. "But thanks for coming down to deliver this to me when you could have just asked me to get it from you." "But I wanted to see you personally. And seeing the clothes that are in the parcel, I thought I could get to watch you try them on too." His blunt answer made you stare at him like a mad man. His blue eyes however, glinted with nothing but honesty. This guy may be mysterious but he sure is straightforward in stating what he has on his mind. He probably noticed the way you reacted and he took a step back, retracing his words and slightly coughing to ease the awkwardness. "I mean, I would like to see you trying out these new outfits that you had gotten for yourself. It would be a good past time for me."

You chuckled at how goofy this guy is and gestured towards him to go and sit at the couch. You went into the room to get yourself changed and it was as if today is your fashion show day. You strutted out in different outfits, layered against one another and watched the way Xavier would react to you, either fascinated, or straight down confused. There was even this one time, he would just have a blank expression where you wore an oversized shirt under your tshirt. Clothing trends on the streets nowadays baffles him and he wondered if he was the one that was left out from the fashion ring.

Your last outfit featured you in a semi see through tank top and a pair of cargo pants. Not to mention, the tank top seemed to be too small for you as the way the blond boy sees it, it was holding onto your figure for dear life and barely leaving anything more to one's imagination. And the thought itself ticked him off. When you looked over towards Xavier, he does not look surprised nor confused, but rather bland. "What do you think?" Your tone came off to be amused and you did a twirl in front of him before you took a seat right next to him.

Xavier anxiously gulped and looked away from you, his voice low as he muttered. "I don't think this outfit looks nice on you, girlfriend." The way he shifted in his seat made you cornered him against the couch even more, wanting a better explanation. "The top you are wearing. I don't like it."

"And why so?" You asked, looking down at your top and adjusting it. "This is the trend nowadays, they call it the Y2K trend I think. And this tank top was on sale, so I just got it."

"I can buy you some other clothes. Even the ones that are not going to be on sale." He retorted, eyeing the tank top you were wearing with an underlying anger. "I just don't think I would like to see you wearing this in public. It is too revealing, and I guess tight on your body."

His answer painted your cheeks red and you gasped. What were you thinking? Of course you had forgotten about his possesive nature. He does not show it much and having such a pretty boy face like him further disconnects the word 'possessive' from his character. He reached into his hoodie's front pocket and pulled out his phone, opening up an app and handed the phone to you. When you refused to take it, he lifted his torso off of the couch to 'force' you to take his phone. Just like how you had previously pressed your body against him, this is his turn to take his small and sweet revenge. You panicked as he closed the gap between you two and within the next minute, he was pressed against you, one of his hand at the side of your head and another still holding his phone up to you, his gaze intense. "Just choose whatever you want from my phone, my card information is all in there. And perhaps before you check out, you can let me double check on the outfits you are getting." He low-key demanded before he explained himself for such a decision. "I just don't like nor want people staring wrongfully at what I treasure the most."

Another fluff for another day. I already did my best in having to think of different wardrobe malfunctions as I did not want one theme of wardrobe malfunction to be stagnant across the whole story for all three of the boys. SO I hope you would understand my lovelies. :,) I am very very free so I will be posting more regularly for these few weeks. SO please do show me more love and support as that would aid me in my motivation in writing!

Do check out my other works as well!

HOW WOULD THE BOYS REACT TO YOU FORGETTING ABOUT YOUR DATE?

DAMNATION

Hope your Delulu is satisfied my lovelies <3

[exhaslo]

Corruption Ch18 (End)

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7, Ch8, Ch9, Ch10, Ch11, Ch12, Ch13, Ch14, Ch15, Ch16, Ch17

Warning: Minors DNI, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship/relationship? SMUT, public sex, creampie, breeding kink

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D-Day

The weather was chilly as the first heavy snow of the season finally started to flutter. Your eyes sparkled as you watched from Miguel's office window, adoring the view of the city. The city of Nueva York was beautiful before you.

Shivering slightly as you touched the window, you started to wonder if you were going to be okay for tonight. You had found out that Miguel was now Spider-Man. He secretly enhanced himself somehow and was doing who knows what.

"Yet he says I can't be a hero," You said with a soft pout.

Returning to your seat on Miguel's desk, you started to tap away on your tablet. A whimper escaping your throat as you rubbed your legs together. Miguel had been consuming both your body and mind and it was showing.

Trying to focus back on your work, you started to think about how Miguel was at home. He was such a romantic. Always taking care of you, pleasuring you and treating you like a queen. It felt so strange from someone who loved to torture people.

"(Y/N), I have another meeting in a half hour, correct?" Miguel asked as he quickly entered his office.

You snapped out of your dazed state and checked the tablet. Agreeing to his comment, you watched as Miguel cussed lowly and grabbed a drink from his fridge. Jumping off the desk, you approached Miguel and stroked his cheek,

"Are you okay? Do your eyes bother you?" You asked out of concern.

"Hah, still so worried about me," Miguel said with a smirk, "You need to start focusing on yourself."

"Mhm, it's pretty cold today," You cooed softly.

Miguel stroked your cheek before grabbing your hand. He had you follow him to the lab that was destroyed from the explosion a while back. It was being rebuilt rather quickly. To your surprise, Miguel had Lyla activate a tablet that was locked away.

"Until I set up a second location for a secret lab, this will be where I conduct my experiments for our Spider powers," Miguel said in a whisper and showed you the tablet, "Starting with a suit for you that generates warmth."

"Oh! Miguel!" You smiled brightly, hugging your boyfriend, "How long have you been designing this?"

"Since I found out," Miguel said honestly as he pulled out the suit, "You're going to need it for tonight."

You jumped in glee, pecking Miguel's cheek as you went to observe your new suit. It had some subtle changes, but nothing that you truly worried about. Miguel made you this suit and you were going to happily wear it.

-------

Miguel just smirked as he watched you get all giddy with joy. Yes, he included a heating element so you could swing in peace, but he also added so much more. That suit was to represent to the city that you were no longer a hero to them.

You were Miguel's.

"Now, I have a meeting to get to. Why don't you finish reviewing the paperwork of the restorations?"

"Okay~"

The more obedient you became, the more Miguel craved you. It started to become unhealthy and Miguel noticed, but he didn't care. As long as Miguel still got what he wanted, then he believed he was allowed to have everything.

Parting ways with you for the moment, Miguel kept a calm composure. He was debating on telling his idiot father about his new found powers. The reason? To take control of Alchemax and the shareholders.

Miguel had big plans for both the company and the city.

Everything was going to belong to him.

Everything.

---------

Your smile stretched from ear to ear as you wore your new suit. It fit you perfectly. Standing on top of the Alchemax building, you inhaled deeply. The cold weather wasn't bothering you thanks to your new suit. It was great!

"Enjoying the suit?" Miguel asked, appearing in his suit. You gasped, approaching him,

"Wow! I didn't get a good look last night, but you look amazing in that suit!"

It was hard to tell if Miguel was smiling at the compliment due to his mask. His attire was different from yours, but also quite nice. It made you wonder how long he was working on this. Giggling at the thought, you hugged Miguel,

"This is so cool. We can work together~"

"About that-" Miguel stopped you, grabbing your chin, "This will be your last night as a hero."

"Wha-"

You were at a loss for words. Miguel's fingers stroked your thumb, unmoving from his comment. You were no longer going to play a hero? There was no way Miguel could take on the role. You were hoping to guide him.

"But-"

"What did I say?"

You gave a small pout, "To do as you say," You said and gasped as Miguel pulled you into his embrace.

"Good girl," Miguel chuckled darkly, "Besides, I'll take over. I'll make sure this city is taken care of."

"Mhm....but....You've never fought before," You whispered, melting against his touch.

"Neither did you when you first started."

Touché. Miguel got you there. Agreeing to his decision, you gently tugged on his suit, wanting to go for a swing across the city. This would be your last time doing so.

--------

Miguel was holding back from laughing. How far you've come from trying to change him, to being his obedient good girl. There was something about tainting you that brought chills up his spine. Miguel enjoyed breaking you.

"Come on~" You cooed, falling off the building.

Like instinct, Miguel went to reach for you. He withdrew as you laughed and started to swing. He let out a soft sigh and followed you, making sure that you didn't go far. There was one last lesson that Miguel needed to teach.

Swinging above some reporters, Miguel just chuckled darkly. He hurried towards you, wrapping his arm around your waist before swinging you onto of the nearest building. You whined softly but stopped as Miguel started to rub against your clit.

"M-Miguel...n-not here...a-anyone could watch," You tried to protest. Miguel just found you cute,

"They won't know it's you. All they will see is Spider-Man giving Spider-Woman the time of her life."

"Mhm~ B-But-" You gasped as Miguel rubbed your clothed clit harder.

Miguel just chuckled as he looked down at the reporters. They were trying their best to get a shot of the two of you. Turning you around, Miguel undid the bottom of your suit. You were already dripping in anticipation for him.

What a good girl.

Miguel held your hips as his suit disappeared only around his dick. With a simple thrust, Miguel had you under his spell. You were gripped the edge of the building, moaning as he slapped his cock deep within you.

"Not so shy now, huh? Did you want those reports to watch me breed you? To have them watch the once hero, Spider-Woman get fucked stupid?" Miguel taunted.

"N-No~" You cried out. Miguel hummed as your pussy fluttered around his cock,

"Could have fooled me."

Miguel grunted as he held you in place. All those reporters could see was Spider-Woman getting railed by Spider-Man. This showed them who was in charge. To show them that there were no more heroes left in his city.

"Mhm~!" Miguel covered your mouth as you moaned, wanting to make sure you didn't say his name.

"I hope you're ready to answer some questions." Miguel said with a wicked smirk.

You just raised your hips and whined as Miguel fucked through your orgasm. With a few more thrusts, Miguel gave you his first load. Unamused by the amount, Miguel made sure to fill you up before your interview.

"Now, you're ready."

--------

You leaned over the building, panting heavily from Miguel's quick sex session. Your mind felt dizzy. Miguel was so mean. Fixing your suit, you shuddered as your body felt full. You were going to get pregnant at this rate.

"Come on,"

Wrapping your arms around Miguel, you hummed as he swung you over to the reporters. You couldn't think straight. All you wanted to do was behave for Miguel.

"S-Spider-Man....W-What...What are you doing here?" One of the reported asked, terrified, "A-And what have you done with Spider-Woman?"

"Hm? She seems fine, don't you?" Miguel said, motioning towards you.

"Mhm, I'm fine," You replied.

"H-How long have...have you two been together?" Another reporter asked. Miguel's hand wrapped around your waist,

"What do you think?" Miguel held you close as he snatched a microphone away from one of the reporters, "Since I have you all here, time to lay down some ground rules."

Everyone could only gasp.

"There are no more heroes left to save you. If anyone dares to confront me, they will perish. Nueva York is my city now and soon the world. Spider-Woman and I shall bring forth a new breed of advance humans to rule over you tiny incest's-"

"There's no way she would agree to this!"

"Oh? Well, what do you think, my dear?" Miguel whispered in your ear, causing you to shiver.

"I belong to him, so I will do as he says," You cooed, trembling as Miguel whispered, 'Good Girl', in your ear.

"As you can see, I have already corrupted your hero."

Humming lowly as Miguel pulled you close, you smiled as he kept speaking to the public.

"Listen to me, and you'll be fine."

A simple ask. Miguel treated you like a queen and all you had to do was listen and do what he says. Nothing crazy. Feeling yourself being lifted, you wrapped your arms around Miguel's neck as he swung away from the terrified reporters.

"Best make do on my promise."

"Yes, Miggy~"

What was once a dream of being a hero and saving both the city and Miguel, turned into nightmare.

The hero was corrupted by the villain and didn't even know it.

But, you weren't complaining. You just stayed as Miguel's good girl...

Forever

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WOO-HOO!!! I hope you all enjoyed this story!!!! I, for one, will miss it truly!

I didn't hesitate to start my next story, haha! I PRESENT:

Over-Time

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[madamechrissy]

Take Me Home Tonight

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Gojo is 28-29 here, reader is like 22 or 23. Nothing too crazy. But is Professor/teacher forbidden type love. Some fingering and teasing and dirty talk this chap

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 8k 

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ After passing your LSATs, your friends take you out to unwind. You never go out, so you are awkwardly agree, and you end up in the arms of a super hot man named Satoru. You end up screaming Satoru's name as he drops down on his knees before you, only to lose him in the club. All you have is his first name.

Two months later, in your Criminal Law class, your heart stops. Your teacher? Professor Gojo. Or as you soon call him, Professor Dickhead. You can't fuck up your law school, and he won't fuck up his career, not just because he makes you wet in class, no, he's a dick. Right?

That pout and blue eyes don't wreck you, right?

Chapter 1 Masterlist

Chapter 2

You have no clue how you have survived these past couple of weeks, of watching Satoru… or Professor Dickhead… walk through the halls, like he owned them, hands in his pockets, dressed constantly like a million bucks. Of him lecturing your class, his eyes catching yours just so. Of his little comments, as he challenged you constantly in every class.

You mull over your day in class as you thumb through a philosophy book in the library.

"Let's consider another scenario.” He looks at you, and you sigh when he calls your name, he frequently gives you the hardest questions.

“Yes, Professor Gojo?” Professor Dickhead.

“Say you are a defense attorney representing a client accused of murder. The evidence against your client is overwhelming, and you even think that they may truly be guilty. However, your client confesses to you that they are innocent, and that the real killer is someone else who will strike again if they are convicted. What do you do?"

The question hangs in the air like a storm cloud, pressing down on you. You can feel the blood rushing to your face, your heart racing in your chest. The class is silent, taking pity on you, as they usually did, since Gojo loved to throw advanced moral dilemmas your way.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "I would have to do everything in my power to find the real killer, Professor Gojo. I would gather as much evidence as possible and investigate every lead, no matter how small. Even if it meant risking my client, I would not give up until justice was served."

There's a murmur of agreement from some of the students, but you can also sense the unease in the air. You can feel Professor Gojo's icy blue gaze burning into you, and you know that he's not just evaluating your answer, but he’s evaluating you , looking down your face, your lips, briefly at your chest, heating you up with every second he stands there.

"An admirable answer, I suppose." He says finally, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re bright fucking red on your cheeks and ears now. "But let's consider the consequences of that. If you were to go down this path, you might be seen as an obstructive defense attorney, who is so obsessed with the truth she hurts her client.”

You gulp, hating the way he leans on your desk, how he casually destroys your psyche. “With all due respect Professor Gojo, I disagree.”

He raises a brow, smirking, looking so handsome you wanna smack him. There had been nothing but shared looks for two weeks, you all had crossed no lines, but every move of his makes you ache, so you despise him more. “Oh? You disagree, do you? Explain, please.”

“What sort of attorney would I be if I don’t seek the truth?”

“A shit one for defense. You’re thinking about prosecution.” His voice is mocking, as he leans forward on your desk now. “Even so, what if despite your best efforts, you were unable to find the real killer? Your client's fate rests solely on your shoulders."

You feel a knot forming in your stomach. The weight of his words is crushing, and you can't help but wonder if you've made the right choice, being here, you begin to feel those hits of doubt. Professor Gojo's gaze pierces you like a knife, making you feel exposed.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself. "My responsibility as their lawyer is to provide them with the best possible advice and guidance of course, while also upholding my own personal values. I will not put those aside."

The classroom is silent as your words hang in the air. You can feel the tension building, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting to see how this will play out. You glance over at Professor Gojo, and his expression is unreadable, as his lips then turn up, into a little smirk, shocking you.

“You stand by your convictions, even if it fucks you over? Fucks over your entire career?” His voice raises a bit, that silken timbre hitting hard. You nod, and the bell thankfully rings. “We’ll touch more on that next week.”

The class files out, and so many people go up to him, to his desk, to ask questions or to talk, you slip out quickly, heart fucking racing. He seemed to delight in putting you on the spot, in pushing his experience and authority on you. It was overwhelming. But in a weird way, it gives you some fucking insane thrill, one you question…

***

You peek at your phone, Maki is inviting you to a party tonight. Though at the same school, you all don’t see each other much, in different dorms and different classes. You answer with an ambiguous maybe, sighing when you think of the last time you went out… when that infuriating man made you cum so fucking hard you throb thinking of it.

Fucking Gojo.

You thumb through the book, as a pretty girl comes in, wearing a gorgeous red business suit. She smiles at you, her hair is a dark brown with bangs that gently frame her face, she has a little scar on her cheek that seems to only make her more captivating. She walks to you, smiling.

“Heard Professor Gojo is giving you a hard time, huh?” You flush at that, looking down a bit. “I’m Professor Geto’s teaching assistant. Utahime.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Utahime. I've seen you around.” You stand and shake her hand, which has a surprisingly strong grip.

“Of course. I've been getting started at this new position. But Gojo? He’s a shithead.” You snort at that, and she grins. “He’s a damn good lawyer, and teacher, but he pushes hard. He pushed me very hard, I think I contemplated killing him and being my own attorney.”

You burst out laughing then, you instantly like her. “He’s a challenging professor, which I enjoy, but he certainly is-”

“Fucking gorgeous? I know ladies, you don’t have to go on about it.” Gojo walks in, his Gucci shades on, thankfully covering those ridiculous eyes of his, and his hair is casually falling over his forehead. Utahime scowls at him.

“You fucking wish, Gojo.” He sticks his tongue out at her, she flips him off, and you can’t stop your giggle.

“Something funny, Miss Brat?” He demands, staring at you, and Utahime shoves at him now. He runs around the empty library as she smacks at him.

“Gojo, do not even!”

“What Hime, jealous? Ouch!” She thwacks him good then, and you’re enamored how wild these ‘professionals’ are. In a way it’s kinda fucking awesome.

“Her name isn’t Miss Brat . Get your shit together, god.”

“You’re still sad I didn’t fuck you that night, hmm? After all these years! Ow, shit that hurts! That’ll leave a fucking mark!”

“I never wanted to fuck you, dickhead. Ugh. Anyway, let me know if you need anything…” She says your name, turning from a vicious little thing to a sweetheart, you smile at her, and Gojo scowls.

“I will, I really appreciate that! I’ll see you in class tomorrow?”

“Absolutely. Bye hunny.” She waves, scowling at Gojo as she shoves past him, and he huffs.

“Bye Hime!” She flips him off again, storming out, and you’re in a fit of giggles now, until his gaze catches you, pushing down those round shades just so. “Well, Miss Brat, whatchya reading hmm?”

He snatches the book from your hands, and you glare up at him, standing up and trying to grab it, but fucker was way too tall, you end up hopping up as he grins like some psycho, holding it out of your reach. You huff and he peers up at it, pursing those pretty glossy lips of his.

“Hmm… didn’t take you for an Aristotle girl.” He muses, and you sigh, sitting back down, crossing your arms and glaring up at him.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, and he pulls a chair, spinning it and straddling it, resting his arms on the back casually. You gulp, thinking how fucking hot he looks, shoving that down hard.

“Figured you’d like Plato.  Aristotle is a bit too logical for someone as feisty as you.” He says, flipping through the pages, his eyes scanning over it.

“I can be logical…” He smirks at that. You roll your eyes. “What are you doing here anyway?” You ask, and he smirks, placing the book down in front of you, leaning across with those stupid long arms. All of him was stupid long… 

Fuck.

“Blushing? From me just near you?” He taunts, leaning closer, you take a shaky breath, inhaling that likely expensive cologne he wore that made him even more delectable to you.

Fuck Fuck.

“No, it's just warm in here.” He laughs at your lie, and you pick the book back up, flipping to the page you were on and trying to ignore him.

“Hmm, I have an idea, Miss Brat.”

“That’s not my name, Professor Dickhead. What’s the idea?” Your eyes narrow as he slides off his shades, those glittering eyes boring into your face.

“Write a ten page essay on this book.” He taps the philosophy book you’re reading, you frown at that.

“I have enough work to do. Why extra, on philosophy?”

“Because you’ll get a reward for it. Something no one gets as a first semester, let alone a first year. What ya think?” You bite your lip a bit, taking a shaky little breath. “You’re tempted, hmm?”

“What reward?” Your eyes narrow, and he throws back his head with laughter, making you flush more.

“Not anything like that, you’re such a pervy little brat.” You scowl, standing then and gathering your books. He grips your wrist, your throat goes dry at the touch, looking down at him and his fucking grin. “Stop, you haven’t even heard me out.”

You exhale, yanking your arm back, hating what every little brush of his skin did to your body. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll take you on a field trip.” He says with a grin, you roll your eyes, snorting, before laughing hard. He glares, yanking your wrist again. “Excuse me, Miss Brat, I am your professor. You’re so disrespectful.”

“Sorry. A field trip? To where, the Zoo, Sir?” You keep giggling, and he stands, shutting them up when he’s just an inch from you with that hard body. You exhale, biting your lip again, and he gently puts his thumb to your lip, easing it from out of your teeth, shooting desire hard through your entire body.

“I wish corporal punishment was still a thing. I’d whip the fuck out of you.” He glares, and you don’t laugh then, because the thought of Gojo bending you over his desk smacking you? Yeah that did insane things…

“Sorry, Mr. Gojo.” You manage, sighing and looking up at him, clutching your books nervously to your chest. “Go ahead.”

“I’ll bring you to the case I’m working on, it’s a big one-”

“The fucking case where where the politician’s son is accused of killing that prostitute?” You interrupt, your eyes wide, he smirks.

“You would know what case I'm in. Stalker .”

You roll your eyes. “Not at all… but of course I know about it. It’s all over the news and everything. I heavily follow cases. How the fuck can I get on that? Like would the school let me?”

“Easy, write the essay. Impress me, and I’ll get the approval for it. You’re a star student already, it should be easy for you to come along. Maybe it’ll help you decide on a major, seeing the real world of law, hmm?” He suggests, and you nod eagerly. “Knew you’d be in for it. One more condition.”

“What, anything!” He smirks at your enthusiasm, and you brush your hair back nervously.

“I need it done by tomorrow. And you’ll read it out to me.” You frown at that, brows knitting, as you think of the work you’re swamped with. “If you can read it proficiently, under pressure, I’ll take you.”

“Under pressure?” You sigh when he smirks again. “Fuck… I mean… yeah, I’ll do it. I can.”

“Exactly what I thought.” He brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek, and you tense, eyes locking on his lips. “You’re wearing makeup.”

“Um… yeah, I do a lot.”

“Not face makeup. Usually just your eyes.” You blink at that, wishing you could make your heart stop racing inside your chest.

“Ah… I mean, maybe that’s true. I looked a little pale so I threw on some bronzer.”

“Hmm. You don’t need it.” He backs away now, hands in his pockets, and you can just barely breathe now. How did he notice things like that? “All right, I’ll see you in my office at five pm sharp with it.”

You fidget, peeking at your watch. You had less than twenty hours and that was with no sleep. “I will be there with it.”

“All right Miss Brat, hop to it.” He winks at you as he walks out, so casually, and you sink back down into the chair, fucking breathless. The scariest shit? You were just as excited to spend time with Satoru as you were to see this court case, what the fuck did that say about you?

You pull out your laptop, getting to work, the library isn’t busy at this time, so you can focus on the essay without distraction. As you write, you can’t help but think of Satoru, his touch, his smell, his voice. You shake your head, focusing on the words in front of you, you could do this, you could totally knock out a ten page essay for a chance at this.

***

The next day you’re fucking drained, going through each lecture exhausted, to the point Professor Geto stopped you after class, concerned look on his handsome face, and Utahime also comes to you. She’s frowning, and you hold in your yawn, struggling to smile.

“I’m fine you all, just had an extra credit thing for Mr. Gojo.” Professor Geto smirks then, rolling his eyes, and Utahime huffs.

“Dear god, what extra credit!” Utahime whispers, and you laugh a bit at her expression, shaking your head.

“Not anything crazy. A ten page essay on this book about Aristotle he found me reading.” You hold it up, and Professor grabs it, with his elegant hands, humming a bit to himself as he studies your face then.

“Huh, Aristotle? Would take you for a Plato girl.” You giggle then, so tired you’ve lost it, yawning wide.

“Satoru…. I mean shit.” You freeze, and they both look at you curiously, making you flush red. “Professor Gojo said that too.”

“Mmm, we are best friends, makes sense.” He hands it back to you with a smile, Professor Geto was devastatingly handsome with his angled features and long hair. Another model to fuck with all of you students.

He held himself with a quiet allure, confident but not overtly insane like Satoru… Professor Gojo… fuck. You needed to be more careful.

“He shouldn’t be giving her extra work.” Utahime says to Geto, and he sighs, looking at you with chocolate eyes.

“Well, what’s the reward?” You grin at that.

“Going to his court case tomorrow.”

“Well your eyes lit right up.” Geto muses, and even Utahime nods. 

“I’d have done it too.” She comes to you and rubs your shoulder softly. “You’re done with it already?”

“Mmhmm. I have to read it to him though, ugh.”

Geto is just grinning now, and Utahime rolls her eyes. “Satoru is such a little shit, I swear. Just go in with confidence, you’ll do well.” He also touches your shoulder gently with a little smile.

You smile at them both. “Thank you all. Promise I’ll get to sleep tonight! Shit, what time is it?”

“Four fifty.”

“I gotta go! Bye!” You run out of the classroom then, exhaling as you head to Gojo’s office.

You knock on the door when you get there, and he calls out for you to enter. The office is surprisingly neat when you walk in it, a stark contrast to the chaos he brings into your life you think, but his classroom was also impeccable, so it makes sense. He’s sitting at his desk, looking up at you with those piercing eyes, leaning his chin on his hands with a smirk, looking fucking irresistable as ever.

“You’re just on time. Good.” You walk over and place the essay down. “Ah-ah. You're reading it to me, remember?”

You bite your lip, exhaling nervously, taking the paper back, then you squeak in surprise as he picks you up, sitting you on his big black desk. You look at him with wide eyes, and he’s gone to lock his door, a loud click resonating, your thoughts run fucking crazy when he’s behind you, taking your hair down out of its bun, bobby pins scattering along the desk.

“What the fuck?” You look up at him incredulously, but he just has a huge grin, his fangs glistening in the soft light of his office.

“Remember I said you’d read it under pressure?” You scowl, as he walks slowly around the desk until he’s in front of you, looming so tall, bending over until his lips are just a breath away.

You clear your throat, tilting your head back to look at him. “What about it has to do with my hair down?”

His grin grows, and he gently places a thumb and forefinger under your chin. “Nothing, I just like your hair down.”

“You’re such a shithead.” He chuckles at that, then eyes you intently.

“What is pressuring is how you feel for me.” Your mouth drops open, and you’re sputtering for a moment, opening and closing it. “You can’t act like it’s not true, just a touch…” He barely brushes a bare thigh, you hold in your moan. “Makes you tremble. And just a…” He leans in so close, breath hot against your lips. “Yeah, it makes you bright fucking red.”

“Does not.” You glare, and he just shakes his head with that annoying smirk plastered on his face, gently rubbing his fingers up and down your body now.

“Your thighs shift when you are watching me in class.” You bite back another moan, struggling to keep still, but you fail, your thighs do fucking move together. “Just like that. Think I didn't notice?” His blue eyes hit yours, and your resolve wavers.

“So my thighs shift… So what?” He leans even closer, and his thumbs brush the sensitive part of your inner thighs, making you fucking wet immediately, and you hate him for it.

“You wriggle your hips when you watch me too. Like this.” He takes them in his hands, pressing you hard on the desk, and you can’t stop the whine that comes from the back of your throat. “Need that friction hmm?”

“Fuck you, Satoru.” You whisper, feeling tears prick your eyes then, your breaths coming in little pants. “Why do this? Why push me so goddamn hard, call me out all the fucking time, with some advanced essay request? Do you really fucking dislike me so much-”

“Dislike?” He cuts you off with a glare, and you blink rapidly, swiping the little tears that fell. “You’re not as smart as I thought.”

“And you call me unintelligent! What the fuck even is this?” You go to get down and he holds you there, hands on your waist, so big they nearly cover it, squeezing and making you moan again. “Fuck, you…”

“I push you because I see potential.” He cuts you off then, and you meet his gaze, which has grown serious. “I’m doing this because…” He trails off, easing his grip and sliding his hands down your body. “Because I’m masochistic.”

You sniffle a bit, shaking your head. “You’re pushing me so hard.”

“I know. And I won’t stop.” He tilts your chin again, making you gaze at that pretty fucking face. “Now, the point is, your desire for me makes you unfocused. It’s a challenge. So we use it, and you push through it, can you do it?”

You tremble, hands hot and sweaty. You suck in a breath, shutting your eyes for a moment and focusing. You wanted to deny it, to not admit what was blatantly obvious to this conceited man. But… “Yes. I can do it.”

“Good girl.” His hands brush your hair back as he murmurs those words, in that deep timbre, you…

Fuck.

“Don’t say that.” You hate what it does to you, his words, that shit eating grin when your watery eyes open.

“Now, begin, Miss Brat. Let’s see how you handle this.” His breath is against your neck again, tickling delicate skin, making you shiver. “If you do well, you’re in tomorrow. I won’t push anything too far either, just enough to throw you off. Okay?”

You nod, realizing the challenge he was throwing, and you pick up your papers, reading out loud in the most confident voice you can muster. “Aristotle's idea of natural law holds that certain principles are inherent in human nature. That has helped to shape the development of natural law theory. Mmnh…” Saroru’s big hands brush up your thighs, making you wetter between them, you struggle to focus.

“Continue on, Miss Brat, you’ve just begun.” You clench your teeth as his fingers brush little circles, hypnotizing you, taking over all of your damn senses.

“Aristotle's emphasis on human reason and the balance between individual rights and social order has influenced the development of constitutionalism, far more than his counterparts or teachers. Plato and Socrates for example… unh. Fuck!” He laughs as he kisses your thigh, bent down between you, and your eyes go wide. Just a brush of his lips, you drop the paper.

He bends down to grab it, his breath so close to where you ache for him you feel tears prick your eyes. He smirks as he hands it back to you, leaning in close now. “So that’s what really gets you, does it remind you of that night?” He purrs the fucking words, and you clench your jaw so hard it hurts. “Does it?”

“Yes, fuck. Ugh.” You look away, and you hate it when he’s leaned against you again, as he’s read you like a book.

“Continue on, you can do this.” He orders, so casually, like he wasn't destroying your mind.

You take a breath, struggling to keep it together, when he decides to run his fingers through your hair now, reading more of the essay. You struggle not to just arch your head and enjoy it, but no, you’ve gotta fucking focus. “Aristotle's concept of justice as a balance between extremes has influenced legal theories, especially when it comes to justice as we know it… Fuck… please…”

“Shh.” His breath is hot on your ear, he nips the earlobe just so with his sharp teeth, flicking his tongue on it. You clench your thighs tight, damn near aching with how bad you want him. “Keep going, baby girl. Remember, you’re under pressure.”

You struggle to focus as the words jumble further on your paper. “Ethics is the most emphasis surely, as his focus on human character has led to a greater focus on ethical considerations in decision-making. It brings to light all of the things that make human beings tick and…”

You inhale sharply when he's behind you, brushing your hair to the side with one hand, then sliding off your blazer. “Aww, you’re a whole Aristotle stan, aren’t you baby girl? I’m so intrigued.”

 “Professor Gojo…” You trail off, he has his big hands on your shoulders, burning you through the blouse with his touch.

“You're doing really well.” He praises you, and you are surprised as fuck. “Keep going, pretty. Almost done.”

“Fuck…” You shake yourself out of it. “As for Aristotle's methodology, which emphasized empirical observation and scientific inquiry, it has influenced the development of evidence based decision making in law. It makes… mmm…”

Satoru is in front of you, brushing the back of his hand down your cheek. “No bronzer today hmm?” You flush, shaking your head. “Good, you have a natural blush when around me. Continue.” His face is buried in your hair, then soft lips kiss your temple. You're trembling so bad, trying to hold it together.

“Aristotle's concept of stability and continuity has influenced the development of legal systems as we know it. Without Aristotle's advanced ideas, we may have been much further behind. His ideas… carry…” You're almost done when he brushes his hands down the side of your breasts, blue eyes locked on yours.

“You're so close, pretty. Finish. ” He watches your back arch when he brushes his thumbs over the taut nipples, over your lacy bra and the blouse, you nearly lose it. But you finish. You fucking do it.

“To…to conclude, Aristotle's ideas have had a profound impact on various aspects of legal thought and practice, and they are still shaping the way we think about law today.”

“Good," He says, his voice gruff. "It's good."

You look up at him, your heart racing, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the very room seems to hold its breath, and you can feel the electricity flickering between you. The tension is so palpable you could reach out and touch it, he is unusually quiet and serious, when you lean in slightly, your body betrays you, and he mirrors the movement, his face just inches from yours.

“Was it okay, Satoru? Really?” You whisper, he cups your face, nodding, and you're even closer, your hand is pulling on his tie, you can taste his minty breath, tempting you further.

“It was really good. I wouldn’t say if not. Especially for one day.” His fingers play along the neckline of your blouse, brushing your collarbone, he leaves goosebumps everywhere he touches.

“Thank you… I…”

But before anything happens, there is a knock on the door. Thank god, what even could happen between you two that would be anything other than an entire disaster?

“Busy.” Gojo mutters, and they seem to leave. He exhales, shutting his eyes for a moment and resting his forehead on yours, holding your face gently, before pulling back and staring down at you.

“What is it?” You murmur, and he shakes his head, sighing.

“You look so hot on my damn desk. This image is gonna be burned in my fucking brain.” He runs his hand through his hair, sighing.

“I…” You trail off, letting go of his tie and looking down. “Sorry, I got carried away a bit I think.”

“You?” He scoffs at that, and leans in again, barring you with his arms against the desk, gaze devouring you. “You get to go. You did a really good job.”

“Oh my god! Really?” He nods, and you grin, throwing your arms around his neck eagerly and hugging him. He tenses, and you ease away, but he pulls you back against him, standing up and holding you.

You’re dangling there in his arms as you hug him tightly, and you bury your face in his neck for a moment, feeling how good that hard body is on yours, his thrumming heart against your aching breasts. How good he smells, you want to inhale his scent forever. How much this reminds you of that night, of the guy you instantly fucking liked and wanted.

You…

“I’m sorry, Satoru. Got carried away again.” You murmur, and he eases you down, hands not leaving your little waist, he looks down at you, so intense, you can see your desire mirrored in him. In his parted lips. In his hooded eyes. “I'm tired and not thinking right.”

“Don’t apologize.” He says, voice husky.

“I’m really excited.” You ease your arms down, struggling to come down to Earth, to reality, which is damn near impossible, as you can hear your panting breaths and loud heartbeat in his quiet office.

“I’m glad. It’ll be in the morning, so just make sure to prep.” You nod eagerly, then turn to grab your things off his desk, and you’re against him again. He hisses, gripping you tight around your hips, thumbs pushing into your lower back.

You look back over your shoulder. “Satoru?”

“Why is your ass so goddamn nice? Especially in this fucking skirt.” He demands through clenched teeth, and you feel his hands tighten further, bruising grip, as he presses you against the desk.

“Fuck…” You manage to cry out, covering your mouth, when you feel his length hot and hard against the small of your back.

“Yeah, fuck.” He mutters, his hands grab your hair tight then, still loose and flowing, and you arch your head back, fucking uncaring at this point. He could fuck you then and there and you’d literally say thank you.

Why did he make you like this?

“Satoru…” It’s a little whine, his name.

“Why does my name sound so good on those fucking lips?” He’s muttering the words through gritted teeth, and pulls your head until you face him. “Do you know how badly I wanna bend you over this desk and feel that tight cunt around me?”

You manage a shake of your head, blinking rapidly, his hands slide your skirt up, and you grind your ass back for more, moaning. You know you all can’t do it, you fucking know, but the thoughts… the touches…  when he pulls the fabric of your skirt as he pulls your hair, and you breathe into each other's lips.

“We… shouldn’t… right?” You manage, his lips ghosting above yours, before easing his grip. He exhales, kissing your shoulder, sliding your skirt down, leaning over you to grab your blazer.

“I… ahem…” He puts on a smirk suddenly. “I know I get you so horny and wet, but control yourself, Miss Brat.”

‘You fucking ass!” You turn around and shove him hard, he snatches you up, wrapping the blazer around your shoulders, laughing.

“Am I wrong? Bet she’s soaked.” He slides his hand back up, and it takes everything in you to smack his hand.

“Fuck off, Professor Dickhead.” You huff, pushing past him.

“Wait…” You turn to him, glaring, and he’s got his hand running through that silvery white hair again, messing it up, making this literal perfect man look just a bit human.

“What?”

“Let me take you to your dorm. It’s gonna rain.” You roll your eyes, shaking your head. “No?”

“It’s not gonna rain. It was nice out…” Thunder claps in the background, making you jump a bit, and he just smirks. You wanna smack him. “I’ll go out in it.”

Now he glares at you. “You wanna be soaked? More than you already are.” He looks down at your lap again, you turn away. “Jesus, you're so stubborn. Will you please let me?”

“Whatever, why?” He walks past you, unlocking the door.

“You gotta be presentable tomorrow, not all sick because you got drenched. Come on, it's not like it’ll be long.” He grabs an umbrella, a long clear one, and snatches up his briefcase as well.

You quietly follow him out of the office, and through the school, until you’re at the door and see how badly it is raining, pouring down and the wind is going insane, making rain swirl around. Gojo opens the door for you, popping the giant umbrella out and putting it on top of you both.

It’s a downpour, soaking everything in seconds, except for the two of you under the clear shelter of the umbrella. You can feel the heat of his body through the fabric as he holds you close, and even with the chill of the rain, it’s like you’re on fire. Every step you take is a battle against the urge to lean into him, to let him consume you, to just say fuck it and epic kiss in the rain.

You can’t.

You don’t.

You keep walking, trying to keep your mind on anything but how badly you want to feel his hands all over you again, a mere tease, making you shiver as you all near his car, a fancy silver sports car likely worth more than anything you’ve ever seen. He opens the door, holding the umbrella still, and you climb in quickly, shivering as he comes to the other side.

Gojo revs up the engine, and the car lights up, you’re trembling as you watch his big hand wrap around the gear shift, putting the car into drive, but he looks at you first, catching your hungry fucking gaze and smirking. 

“Seatbelt, Miss Brat.” You giggle a bit, breathless, sliding it in with trembling hands.

“Sorry.” You manage, and then the car zips through the soaking wet streets. You find yourself enamored by him, by every clench of his jaw, by the way his hand grips the steering wheel.

“Need to take a picture?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, sighing, hugging the blazer around you a bit.

“Should have asked you that with me on your desk.” He smirks at that, his blue eyes catch yours just so, the windshield working overtime as you all sit at the stop sign, waiting.

“I’ve got a whole fucking mental picture I’ll use later.” You feel overheated, your chest tight with his words, fidgeting with your hands, exhaling. The rain is spattering on the roof, and it’s just you and him, together, side by side. No school, no bar, nothing but you and… “You okay? You’re quiet.”

“Yeah, just cold.” You lie straight up, shivering more. But you know it’s not the cold. It’s him. It’s the way he makes you feel, full of fucking desire that throbs through you.

“Want the heat on?” He asks softly, you shake your head, smiling over at him, as the car speeds through the wet streets, the rain beating a rhythmic pattern on the windshield, the wipers swiping back and forth in a hypnotizing dance. All of it was making your resolve lower.

“No, it's a quick ride, don’t worry.” You murmur, tensing when one of his hands goes to your thighs then, hot and burning on your chilled skin, goosebumps rising where he touches. You can feel your heart racing, your breathing getting heavier.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He says, his voice a rough whisper in your ear, and you blush harder than you thought possible as you look at him, realizing you all were at a stop now.

“Don’t say things like that, please… you don’t understand what they do to me.” You murmur, trying to keep your voice steady, avoiding that gaze.

“Baby girl… I know what it does to you.” His hand climbs higher, and you can’t breathe, it’s like the car is suffocating you now.

“Then don’t.” You manage to bite out, and Satoru turns back to the road, continuing to drive in the rain, and the car ride is tense, the scent of his cologne fills the small space intermingling with your own scent.

As you pull up to your dorm, you finally dare to glance at him. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes are dark and intense, watching you, his gaze going down to where his hand is on your thigh. You shift in your seat, internally cursing, slick desire dripping down through your inner thighs even, so close to where his hand was it would only take the smallest inch further to reveal it.

"Listen," he says, his voice low and serious. "This isn't going to be a cakewalk. You're coming to a serious case tomorrow. You need to be on your toes."

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "I understand. I'll be ready."

“And you won’t be interfering.” He slides his hand fucking higher, and your heart is racing now. “You don’t smack my hand away. Why?”

“You even have to ask?” You bit out, looking at him now, your lips parting, his eyes dart to them, hunger in their blue depths.

“You should smack it away.” He says, husky, and you go to take his hand off you, but you falter, instead you grip it, sliding it up that inch, to where his thumb feels it, feels the sticky wetness on you. He exhales, gripping you tightly, sliding his hand up until it comes in contact with your dripping cunt.

“Fuck…” You curse, when his thumb brushes you over your panties, and he exhales, moaning, leaning over you, and you all sit there for a moment, the rain thundering around you, your heart beating so loud it’s all you can hear.

“Saoaking fucking wet.” He murmurs, swirling his finger again and pressing up, and you fucking lose it, moaning, arching your hips up, gripping onto his business jacket, your lips right next to him.

“We shouldn’t…” You whisper, and then cry out when his long fingers stroke you up and down. “I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t be…”

“Why don’t you let me get you off real quick?” Satoru murmurs, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your panties now, moaning when he fully feels you, and you’re already gushing from just that.

“Fuck… Satoru… “ You hiss at his touch. “I can’t get it out of my fucking head. And I hate you for that.” You mumble, he tilts his head at you, eyes narrowing as he slides a finger up in you, and you throb around it, cries loud in the little car, louder than the pouring rain.

“You hate me, hmm?” He whispers, and you nod, tears pricking your eyes when he crooks his finger now, breath against your lips, you grind shamelessly in the chair, tummy clenching when he finds that spot.

“Yes. Fuck you for knowing my body somehow. And… fuck… mmmn…” Your eyes flutter shut when he crooks up again, hitting the little spot again, you see stars and black dots everywhere, cursing.

“Well guess what?” He leans even further, even closer, brows drawing low. “Fuck you for this perfect little pussy. Fuck you for being so wet.” You’re whining, pathetic now, tears pricking your eyes, as he slides his finger out, leaving you gasping.

“Fuck you completely.” You shove at him, and he scowls, then brings his finger to his mouth, sucking you off him, moaning, shutting his eyes, so fucking sexy. “Fuck you for looking like that!”

“Fuck you for tasting so fucking good.” He growls, and you’re both panting, your wetness is on his full lips. “I thought it was just alcohol, but nope. You taste as good as I remember. Now I think of eating you out while you’re at your fucking seat in class.”

“I think about sucking your dick under the fucking desk. So.” He blinks at that, and you turn insanely red, looking away. “And fuck you for that too.”

“Fuck you for always eye fucking me in class.” He growls the words, yanking your hair back, dominating every bit of your body and mind.

“Fuck you for… just fuck you, Satoru.” You’re crying now, and he’s watching you, smirking at you.

“ Are you crying ?” Your fingers itch to smack him, you shake your head, and you all sit there for a second, the rain getting harder, the windows fogging up with the heat from you two in the car, and you want to fucking kiss him so badly... You want to grab his hair and pull him into you, so he doesn’t stop, so he never stops.

But you don’t.

Because you’re both fucking insane, and you’re in a car, outside your fucking dorm. So instead you sit there, panting, trembling, staring at him, and he at you, as his grip loosens just slightly, as you feel yourself getting so wet your panties are ruined just like the damn night you met him.

“Not crying.” You say, firmly, and he smirks down you, so fucking charming and gorgeous you wanna smack him.

“You don’t wanna get off, baby girl?” He whispers, sliding his hand back down your waist, making you make some pathetic wine he seemed to enjoy.

“Of course I do, but where does it lead? Me fucking riding you in the car?” He grins big then. “Satoru…”

“You can’t just get off? You gotta fuck me hmm?”

“I need to go.” You unsnap your seatbelt, shaking hands fumbling, he slides his hands off you, unbuckling it for you.

“Poor baby can’t function, huh?” You glare again at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Gonna be all horny in the court room, how can you go?”

“I’ll use my rose toy.” At that his eyebrows shoot up, and you cover your mouth, falling back in your seat. “Fucking ignore that.”

“I am going to need a video of that.” You shove him, and he’s laughing at you now, with that pretty grin of his. It sucks.

This sucks.

“You wish, Professor Dickhead.” You go to open the door, peering at how bad it’s still down pouring.

He’s out of the car in a moment, then he’s opening yours, holding the umbrella up high so that you two are back under it together, he’s looking down at you, that white hair just a little wet. You errantly brush it back, then put your hand down, flushing, realizing where you were, who you both were. He takes the hand then, leading you to the doorway, which had an overhang.

“I’ll be here at 8 AM sharp, Miss Brat.” He murmurs, still too close, body still up against yours. You nod, shy suddenly, next to the man that had just tasted you, your fucking Professor. “Want my number?”

“What? No.” He laughs at you, white teeth showing, and it lights up his stupidly pretty face.

“Do you know how many women would die for my number?” You shrug, and he continues to laugh. “You’re such a little brat.”

“Am not. I just don’t want it.” You look down, at his exposed neck, where the knot of his tie had come loose, and your shaky hands go to slide the knot back up, you hear his hitch of his breath, see his Adam’s apple bob up and down.

“If you’re going to this case we need to keep in contact. I won’t be sending you dick pics, you’re not that lucky.” He winks and you chuckle against your own will, shaking your head and smoothing your hand down his tie.

“Mmm, true. You won’t get any videos either, Professor Dickhead.” He pouts at that, taking his phone out of his pocket then.

“My heart’s broken. But don’t worry.” He leans close, whispering in your ear, tickling it like crazy, making you throb with need. “I remember exactly how that pretty pussy looks.”

“Fuck off.” You whisper, pathetically, you don’t move, and you don’t mean it, though. Pathetic for this idiot professor who was ruining you with casual, silly little fucking movements. “Hate you.”

“I hate you . Hate how good you smell. Taste. Annoying brat.” You pull back to glare up at him, meeting his scowl. “Take my number, brat, and count yourself lucky to have it.”

“Conceited dick.” You take out your phone, and scan his little code, he pops right up in your phone. You giggle maniacally when you change his name in there, and he scowls at you.

“What’s so funny, brat?” You show him his name - Professor Dickhead- and he rolls his eyes, glaring at his phone, then smirking maniacally back, when he snaps a pic of you so quick it throws you off.

“What? Satoru!” You yank and hop up and he finally lets you see the phone, and it’s literally a pic of your cleavage in a top that’s ever so sheer and wet, with the name ‘Miss Brat’. “Dick!”

“Bitch.” You huff, turning away, and he snatches you by your wrist. “Don’t you want a picture of me?”

“Nope, sure don’t. I see you enough and it annoys me.” His laugh is hot against your neck.

“You’re a good liar, that will make you a great lawyer.” You turn to glare up at him, his touch eases, he’s just barely brushing his fingers down your hand now. You ache to hold his hand in your own, to entwine your fingers in his.

“Really, thank you, I am excited for tomorrow.” You whisper, and he sighs, hands releasing you now. You are just standing in front of him in the rain, under the cocoon the umbrella keeps you all in, hearing his breaths behind you.

“You’re welcome, little brat. Maybe if this works out and you bust your nice little fucking ass…” You yelp when he pinches you, whirling back around. “Then you’ll be in line to earn that internship. You’ve got a few months still, but…”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow. He shrugs, casually.

“If you can keep up with how hard I’m going to push you.” The words take on something else, your mind is fucking wrecked you realize.

“I can take it.” He smiles at that, touching your chin gently.

“All right, go on in, I’ll see you in the morning.”

You dash inside, and your heart is fucking pounding, when you’re up in your room you hop out of all your clothes, wincing when you slide off the underwear that’s just sticking to your goddamn thighs now. You start the shower, cursing internally as you peek at your phone, at his goddamn number.

You’d been ready to fuck this guy on his desk, on his car…

And you had shit for experience.

You wouldn’t say it, but it made it all even worse, you were so far out of your wheelhouse as it was. You struggle not to touch yourself in the damn shower, to not push this all way further than it needed to be, but you find your clit and lean back against the tile wall.

Images of him fill your head, the way he looked at you, the way his eyes had gone dark blue when he touched you. The way his voice had gotten all low and gruff when he said he fucking hated you. You start moaning out loud, as you slip your fingers in, stroking fast, but it’s nothing like just one of his ridiculously long fingers, you can’t hit that damn spot.

You go back to rubbing your clit because at this point it’s puffy and so sensitive it happens fast. You come hard, gripping the little shower bar and leaning, your knees wobbling, feeling like a damn mess, and it’s all because of him. When you’re done you slump against the wall, panting, so confused what this man made you into.

He’d make fun of you if he knew.

You step out, sighing, drying up and then getting ready for the next day, planning your outfit, planning what to bring with you. This was an insanely serious case, one of the biggest, all over the television, and you had watched Satoru on them, he was fucking the best, not that you’d stroke his ego and tell him.

Your phone lights up when you’re settled down under the blankets, and you see his number and name pop up.

Professor Dickhead: Good night, Miss Brat.

How did something so simple make you nearly tear up again? You exhale, hand shaking as you swipe it up and open the messages. You nervously bite your lower lip, lips that ached for a goddamn kiss, one you had almost three months ago now. You couldn’t get the taste off your mind. You hate this.

You: Good Night… Satoru.

Not professor Dickhead, for some reason, it didn’t fit at the moment.

Well…

Satoru Gojo hearts the message you sent, and you hate the stupid smile on your face that it brings, the smile that lingers as you fall asleep, and you dream of him, anticipating the next day, such a huge day for you and your career, but also, spending time with him.

Fucking Professor Gojo.

Chapter 3

Ch 2 Ao3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/56895382/chapters/145101856#workskin

[boldlygoingtohell]

In a weird way, as a Jew, I can kinda take Normal Antisemitism™️.

I mean, I understand where right-wing racists are coming from when it comes to their antisemitism. At the end of the day, theirs just comes from fear, replacement theory, etc… It’s easily identifiable. 2+2=4. Yea its shitty, but I see how they got from A to B and it’s a straight line.

But left-wing antisemitism?? Like, how does that happen? I thought the left was about supporting minority groups, encouraging them to speak and be heard. But all I’m seeing from leftists these days (I myself being super fucking liberal, left, etc…) is just waves and waves of antisemitism. And yes it has to do with Israel, but these people are incapable of criticizing the Israeli government without going “all Jews are responsible!” in the process. It's infuriating.

Are all the the world’s Jews, millions of which live OUTSIDE of Israel, now responsible for Israel’s actions? I'M a stupid American! I’ve never even BEEN to Israel, much less know the intricate details of a geo-political conflict whose complexities go willfully unlearned by armchair activists in favor of yelling in all caps for 140 characters.

But what really gets me, and I mean REALLY get me about the whole situation, is the hypocrisy.

Remember how awful it was when we saw waves of Islamophobic hate crimes after 9/11, American Muslims with no ties to al-Qaeda being targeted for the faith those terrorists claimed to represent?

Or do you remember standing against the wave of anti-Asian hate crimes that was spurned on by COVID falsehoods? The “China virus” as Trump so eloquently put it? You remember being pissed about that, not blaming Asian Americans but standing with them against hate?

And hell, I’ve heard there has been a rash of Islamophobic attacks again because of the Israeli-Gaza conflict. That’s fucking awful, and I will stand against that bull shit because it does not belong here, end of story.

But now there are also antisemitic attacks, hate crimes, being perpetrated around the world. And who are the perpetrators now? The left that stood against everything else. There's no widespread ally-ship for Jews like me. There's no sweeping social media campaign, no catchy hashtag, no ice bucket challenge.

Why am I allowed to be condemned for what a country on the other side of the world is doing, when I have nothing to do with it? Why can I have the finger pointed at me when I don’t want the fighting in the first place? Why must Jews be allowed to be the target of this ire when it's already been decided that other ethnicities/religions don't deserve it either?

Now, I am PROUD to be Jewish; it is my culture, in my heritage, in my literal blood. It is in my genetics, my bones, my spoken language, it is in the holidays I celebrate, the philosophies I live by.

But it is also in the generational trauma of my mother insisting I have a passport as a young child, not because we were traveling, but in case we had to flee. It is in her inherent distrust of the government; a card-carrying Democrat all her life, she would always remind me, "if you don't think the government can't turn on you, you're kidding yourself." It is her constant reminders that as a Jew, our assimilation is conditional, our acceptance is political. I felt these, but never as strongly as she did. Not until now.

I am third generation American, and yet I feel like an outsider in the only country I have ever known. People who I thought understood, who were my friends, who marched with me against the injustices of the world, are now calling after Jews to answer for Israel's actions.

I say I don't want the violence to persist and I'm told that I'm, "one of the good ones". I'm told hurt Israelis don't deserve sympathy because, "all Jews are rich anyway, right? Who cares." I tell them my fears about the rising antisemitism and wearing my star of david necklace out. I'm told, "it doesn't matter, you're white anyway."

For the first time in my life, the racists aren't just some crazy KKK members. They're not just Nazis marching around with beer bellies and ill fitting helmets. It's not just some screeching street preacher who claims I'm going to hell after he caught the glint off my star of david necklace. If needs be, I can kick and punch my way out of those. They're just idiots. Isolated, concentrated incidents. It'd be a good story to tell at a bar the next day though a gap-toothed smile and a sling on my shoulder.

But now, both sides are coming after me and my people. Now, it's not just idiots who have all of their views backwards; it's people I thought I could trust to have my back, to go down swinging with me against those Nazis. Right. Left. It's everywhere. There's no escape.

It's coming from all sides. It's coming from social media platforms, from dinners with friends, from posters on street lamps.

I live in one of the safest, most Jewish neighborhoods in America, and for the first time in my life I am truly scared.

[akirathedramaqueen]

Stolas: A Gradual Descent to the Bottom of the Bottle

This post analyzes Stolas's situation with alcohol and discusses whether the show effectively represents this systemic issue, and what it implies about real life.

The take is certainly not unique, but I decided to post it anyway to spread awareness about how subtle, seemingly harmless, occasional drinking can seamlessly turn into a full-blown addiction over time.

TW: substance abuse, addiction, alcoholism

Is Stolas an alcoholic?

The answer seems obvious at first. You look at him—all posh, intelligent, and articulate—and you might think, "He doesn’t look like one." You won’t find him, Satan forbid, somewhere under a porch, or truly dependent on the bottle, like drinking during the day—or not absinthe, anyway.

Sure, he drinks sometimes, but it’s fine . . . right? Everyone drinks sometimes. Everyone deserves to feel a bit happier after something bad happens once.

Or twice.

Or thrice . . .

. . . Oh.

Not so obvious anymore, eh?

The real issue here is that the answer is kind of between 'yes' and 'no.' My TL;DR is that the show makes it pretty clear his drinking is becoming problematic, but it’s not quite there yet. And it will become alcoholism soon enough if nothing changes.

I think what we see happening to Stolas right now is an excellent, textbook example of how people end up there. So let’s get into his head, explore where he stands, and what it means for us and for him.

It starts easy

It doesn’t happen in one day. It's not like you get up early one especially glum morning and decide, "Hey, that's a good day to ruin my life!"

It's a vulnerability that makes you susceptible to drinking. Constant pressure. Anxiety. Depression. Trauma.

And you might find yourself wanting to do everything, anything, to get it out of your brain. Not think about it for one evening. Forget.

What a pathetic fucking man!

Her attacking you, whether physically, verbally, in public or private. You, having no one to turn to, having no way to mend it, having to keep up appearances for your kid.

We all have bad days. Bad situations. It’s not to say that one wild night is inevitably going to turn you into an alcoholic. But when you allow the bottle to be your crutch for life, when it becomes a habit to avoid uncomfortable, traumatic events, then . . .

Then it turns into a coping mechanism

You know, it’s . . . it’s simpler. It’s comfortable. Soothing.

You can’t kick her out of the house. You can’t make the man you love love you back. You can’t get a support network because she ostracized you from royal social circles and made a laughing stock out of you.

But you can forget. Forget that one excruciatingly humiliating night. Where not only was all your dirty laundry thrown out on the dance floor for everyone to see, but also, that said romantic interest made it clear it’s only about sex.

You used to have a smoking wife, a kid, you had it all! I hope you didn't give it up so you and him could get it up

Stolas, don't act like what we have is anything but you wanting me to fuck you, okay? You make that really clear all the time.

Forget well enough to fall asleep drunk on the floor among the only living beings who didn't run from you yet. Maybe only just because they are in pots and don't have legs.

And it spirals out of control

Things get gradually worse. Your only lifeline—your . . . uh, romantic interest and daughter—fall out of reach. He finds every reason to avoid you. She hasn't visited you since that LA incident.

Your only power move with a divorce request turns into a lengthy, exhausting proceeding and leads to an assassination attempt. Your—what are you even anymore?—romantic interest pretty much ignores your distress call, or so you think.

You go with a showdown. You can't stand the ambiguity anymore. You want to know whether there's something behind your transactional thing. It's either 'yes' or 'no,' and . . .

It doesn't end too well.

Lastly, you go to a party to try to unwind (or at least be polite, because it's rude to ignore invitations). But your ex's (???) ex acts cruelly, and you don't feel comfortable there. And the wound is still fresh, bleeding . . .

Fuck it, the absinthe won't cut it. Beelzejuice it is then.

And here we are, back to our starting question

Stolas wears a functional alcoholism guise. Or dangerously close to it. Because that's what I believe is going on.

He is still a functional member of society, but he is shown not being capable of processing his trauma without the bottle in hand. And, as things get worse for him, we see the bottle or the glass or any other alcohol container more often on the screen.

For now, he's hanging on, but it's just a matter of a flip switch—the moment when every second of his life will start to feel unbearable without alcohol, simply because there are no other ways to cope.

It's worth noting, though, that Stolas isn't the only character depicted struggling with the urge to drink away his problems.

The most obvious example is Verosika, who is a severe case of alcoholism. We won't delve deep into her character since I want to focus on gradual decline rather than the end result, but we rarely see her without a bottle. There are a couple of scenes where she doesn't hold one, but these moments are situational. She's also been to rehab at least once and only got out because of her reputation.

But there is another character I'd like to dissect, because this will answer the lingering question, "Is there a way out?"

Blitzø, and why he didn't fall victim to this

We saw Blitzø drinking too, at the Bee’s party. To a rather disturbing degree, actually.

But why does no one say he has an alcohol problem, even though he did use alcohol as a coping mechanism? 

Because Blitzø is an example of how the addiction might be prevented and what ultimately makes a difference, a turning point.

To start off, we first see him not in the bar. We see him at home with a pint of melting ice-cream. Dude sugar-bombed himself to sleep . . . after the already mentioned disastrous date with Stolas at Ozzie's, that is.

And then he gets a call from Loona, who asks to pick her up from the party. He has no plans to stay there whatsoever.

But what changed his mind? Pressure did. 

He was pressured by both Loona and an old acquaintance to stop by. (I stress that no one is wrong for this, by the way—he still had the agency to turn the invitation down.) He reluctantly agreed to one drink . . . which we know how ended.

It's much harder to keep it to just one drink when you're sad and alcohol makes you feel better. Nobody wants to be sad.

But with all that said, Blitzø is extremely resilient. In contrast to Stolas—who is strong in his own way but slipping despite all the privilege, magic, and immortality that Blitzø thinks make him invincible—Blitzø never let that one drinking occasion become a habit.

Because he has a support network. However closed off he is, he has his business to take care of, Loona, and M&M. He has things he likes to do and he has people he cares about.

Stolas has all the money in the world, but no friends or activities he could look forward to. He doesn't seem happy with his royal life at all, referring to himself as an owl in a gilded cage.

So the difference is, essentially, this: Blitzø has alternatives and doesn't see alcohol as an outlet. There is a wonderful post from @warblogs17282 which has similar points I make, but also, it shows another angle of Blitzø's relationship with alcohol—his, unfortunately, long history with addiction in family. So that contributes, too.

Is Stolas a lost cause?

Gods, no. But it’s definitely a problem by this point. 

Is he an active alcoholic? Maybe not yet. He isn't Verosika yet. But he is getting there, which I think is the point the show makes.

Alcohol might be a one-time patch on especially rough days, and you might wake up the next day strong and aware enough not to make a habit of it. But the problem is, Stolas already has a habit, and he doesn't have anything to replace it. 

To solve it, he needs just that—a replacement for the bottle. Someone who cares. My hope is that one particular red lizard will share his pint of ice cream and his love. And maybe then, grim days won't be as grim anymore, even when the absinthe stays in the store, or wherever these royals get their alcohol.

Closing note. Why it’s important to talk about this in real life context

Warning: Extreme TMI

I had an alcoholic in the family, and this topic triggers me because, for him, it also started as "no biggie."

He was still functional for years, coming to work regularly. But he was slipping. He drank more, skipped work, and eventually became unbearable for his family—my family, even if not immediate. His wife requested a divorce. He got isolated. He drank even more. Eventually, he got fired because it's not appropriate for a director to skip work and reek of ethanol. The smell was so strong that people couldn't be in the same room with him. He tried other jobs. He aced interviews thanks to 30 years of experience and a solid background. But he got fired again because he couldn't live up to his legacy anymore. At the end, he descended into what you would call full-blown alcoholism.

So, you followed his story, and my question is: Did it start here, when he couldn't help it anymore? Or did it start a couple of years before that, when alcohol became too comfortable as an outlet for struggles?

I've had rough months too—with the war in Ukraine and everything happening with my family—when I realized it became comfortable for me to drink my problems away. Because it works. Because it’s pleasant not to deal with anything, to force your brain to shut up and be happy for one evening.

And it's terrifying to realize I had (thankfully, I don't have anymore for a long time by now) those patterns of thinking: "Jeez, I just want to drink and forget this happened."

Because I saw where it leads. And the farther you go, the harder it becomes to say 'no.'

So please, pay attention to the ones you care about. Pay attention to yourself.

[toomuchracket]

constellations (literal d word (dad) matty x reader fluff)

you have an eight year old who loves space. let's redecorate her bedroom! promptober day 18. enjoy <3

you're applying your moisturiser when matty pads back into the bedroom; he drops a kiss to the top of your head, and you smile. “babies asleep?”

“yeah. alex took a while to get there… oi, stop that!” he grumbles when you stand, smearing the excess lotion from the back of your hand across his face.

“what? it's cold outside. it dries your skin out. you needed that,” you softly kiss his neck, wrapping your arms around his waist. “anyway, you were saying al took a while to fall asleep?”

“not ages. but we had to do two stories.”

you squint at your husband. “what was the first one?”

“llama llama red pyjama.”

“did you do the voices? and the noises?”

“obviously, babe.”

“matty,” you groan into his shoulder. “of course he took ages to fall asleep, you got him all hyped up.”

he sighs. “can't help it. i just love the sound of his laugh,” he hugs you tighter. “same as yours, you know.”

“thank god he got something from me.”

matty giggles, pulling back to kiss you quickly. “stop pouting,” he pulls his t-shirt over his head, and suddenly you're more than willing to listen to everything he says. “they both got your brains, darling. actually, lyla was just- oh,” he smirks when you remove your dressing gown, body bare aside from a black thong. “hi.”

rolling your eyes, you reach for the t-shirt he just discarded and pull it over your own head, before climbing into bed and burrowing under the covers; it doesn't stop him from giving you the eyes, though. but you won't be swayed. “you were saying?”

“hmmm? oh, yeah. our daughter,” matty kicks his sweatpants off - you glare at him as he does, and he rolls his eyes and neatly folds them - and climbs in beside you. almost instinctively, you move to lie on his chest, kissing his tattoo softly before turning your head to look up at your husband. he smiles adoringly down at you, gently stroking your hair. “she's so fucking smart. you know how they're learning about space at school?”

“mhmm.”

“she listed all the planets to me and all the moons of neptune. in descending order of how close they were to the planet,” matty shakes his head. “she's eight.”

you smile. “our genius girl.”

“she's gonna ask you about stars and constellations tomorrow, by the way.”

“me? why?”

“because she asked me and i said i didn't know anything, and then she did that thinking face where she really, really looks like you and said ‘i'll talk to mum about it. she'll know.’”

“what gave her that idea?”

“dunno. maybe your tattoos,” he runs his arm over the three tiny constellations inked on your upper arm, representing his and both your babies’ star signs. “or maybe she just thinks i'm an idiot.”

you smirk. “probably that.”

“oh, shut up,” he goes to flick your nose, but you catch his index finger gently between your teeth before he can; because you can't help yourself, you wrap your lips around the digit, and matty’s pupils dilate. “don't start something you won't finish, princess.”

okay, maybe you will be swayed.

looking doe-eyed at your husband, you release his finger with an audible pop, shuffling to sit properly on his lap. “if you finish inside me, does it count?”

“fuck,” matty groans; suddenly, you're underneath him, your neck being attacked by kisses. “think you can keep quiet enough?”

“yes, daddy.”

“good girl.”

***

“well, that's not right.”

matty grits his teeth, holding onto the top of the ladder and looking down at his daughter, whose curly head is buried in an astronomy book from the local library that's almost as big as she is. “again?”

you peer over lyla's head, looking at the page and the bedroom ceiling and back to the page again. “not right at all.”

“fantastic,” he wipes the sweat from his forehead. “which star is the most wrong?”

lyla shoves her glasses up her nose and opens her mouth; matty cuts her off. “i don't know their official names, remember - is it the big one that's the issue, or the smaller ones?”

she tilts her head in a way so reminiscent of matty that you have to bite back a giggle. “that little one to your left, dad.”

“‘kay. and where should it be?”

“further left, and down. like, a little bit down. not too much.”

he nods, carefully peeling the adhesive stars from the ceiling and rearranging them as per lyla's instructions. “alex?”

your son looks up from his comic book. “yeah, dad?”

“go and look at your sister’s book and tell me if this looks right. i need an objective opinion.”

he obliges, carefully placing his book on the bed before wandering over. you roll your eyes. “really, matthew?”

“yes, really,” matty twists, face screwing into a grimace as he stretches the twinge-y muscle in his back. “you girls are perfectionists. al keeps it real,” at that, lyla scowls up at her dad, and he backtracks immediately, face softening. “and that's not a bad thing, munchkin, not at all. it's just… well, there are limits to how accurate we can get everything in here, yeah? sometimes we have to compromise our artistic vision. s'just a sad fact of life.”

you scoff. “and when have you ever compromised on your artistic vision?”

“when you've told me to.”

“alright, i'll give you that one,” you raise your eyebrows, nodding slowly. “so, al - has dad got this one right?”

“hmm,” alex frowns at the page, his brows creasing cutely just like his dad's, then scrutinises the ceiling; his face drops into placidity, and he nods. “i think so.”

“thanks, mate,” matty reaches down to ruffle your son's curly head (only wincing slightly on the way back up), before sighing and smiling sheepishly at your daughter. “lyla? what are your thoughts, darling?”

she readjusts her glasses, and the rest of you wait with baited breath; there's a collective exhale when she grins. “looks good, dad. thanks.”

he beams. “you're welcome, munchkin. now,” he steps a rung down the ladder. “lunchtime?”

you shake your head. “there's still one more, babe.”

“god, really?” matty sighs, pressing his head into the handle at the top of the ladder. “feels like we've been doing this for hours.”

“well, what's one more, then? come on,” you gently tap his denim-covered ass, at which the kids giggle. “you did agree to this, matty.”

“yeah, when i wasn't of sound mind.”

(read: the morning after your late-night lovemaking session a couple of nights ago, the ending of which left your husband extremely chipper and thus agreeable to your suggestion that he stick glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling of your space-daft daughter's room.)

you smirk. “some would argue that's the most sound a mind can be. a certain… clarity to it, no?”

matty shoots you a familiar look, a wordless warning that you're at risk of pushing it too far and getting into trouble if you don't stop now, and you can't deny that it's thrilling; not even a second later, he's switching back into dad mode, gentle and pragmatic with your babies in a way that's almost as sexy as the dominant look you just got. “alright. what is the final constellation, then?”

“s'my birthday one,” lyla beams, moving to snuggle into you. “me and mummy are gonna match!”

“oh,” matty's eyes and voice are as tender as you've ever known them to be - the sweet smile he follows with is even more so. “m'sorry for complaining, darlings, this is very important. alex, would you pass me the… yes, thank you, munchkin,” the final set of stars in hand, he beams at you again. “i reckon i can do this one without guidance, i think. can i try?”

you nod, smiling just as tenderly as your husband. “of course.”

and he does, perfectly placing the stars on the ceiling in the pattern he's known by heart for the past seven years, the pattern he watched you get permanently etched onto your arm while he held the tiny baby girl it was dedicated to. unlike last time, she's awake and alert enough to watch the pattern form, looking up at the ceiling and her father with a beaming smile on her adorable face and her arm around her little brother; something about it all has tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, total love for your family and gratitude for how wonderful your life is both threatening to overwhelm you. 

matty seems to notice - when he's finished the constellations, and safely on solid ground again, one of his arms finds its way around your waist and his lips meet your temple. “love you, darling,” he murmurs, as you watch your kids look awestruck at the stars above them. “thank you.”

“for what?”

he nods towards lyla and alex. “them. convincing me to do this. our life, really,” he squeezes your waist. “s'perfect.”

you sniffle. “so are the constellations. really, matty,” you kiss his shoulder. “they're amazing, baby. i love them. and you, of course!”

matty giggles. “kids?” he calls; two little curly heads bounce over to you in response. “what do we think of the stars, then?”

alex is enthusiastic, hair all but flipping as he nods. “they're so cool!” 

lyla's a bit more measured in her response, but her excitement shines through in the way she throws herself at matty to hug him. “i love them, dad. thank you,” she giggles when he kisses her cheek, reaching for you so she can coordinate a group hug. “we match now, mum.”

“we do, darling, you're right,” you hug your kids in tighter. “i love you, my babies. you too, matty.”

“i love you, too,” he laughs. “can we genuinely get lunch now, though? m'starving. that was hard work, that.”

you laugh softly. “yeah. go on, babies, go and get a fruit shoot,” they oblige, and once they're safely out of earshot you wrap your arms around matty's shoulders. “for all the effort you put in today… you can eat me before we go to sleep tonight, if you want.”

he hums happily, leaning down to kiss you until you're dizzy. “never wanted anything more.”