#So going from knowing NONE of them to eventually knowing ALL of them was really crazy and fun

[nylazor]

Hey o/ I've written alot of works, over a hundred, my opinion on each individual fix vacillates wildly from "shit smeared on paper would be better than this" to "I think I just created a religion, that's how good my writing is" and everything in-between, So I've written alot, and none of my fics have gone viral or anything, some do decent with hits and even kudos, but I never have more than half a dozen comments per chapter, and honestly the number is usually 0.

If someone asks me why I like writing, or how I got into it or anything like that, I have a specific image for them

Basically I get ideas stuck in my head, or "brain worms" as I call them, and it feels like I *need* to get it down in writing, I *need* to exorcise theses visions into words, regardless of quality I need them written down, and I post because I like the modicum of attention they get, even if it's only a little. But if I'm being honest, this is what gets my foot in the door, get she first chapter written and posted, for anything longer than a few chapters I need more.

I've written at least three long multi-chapter fics (sorry bad memory and many fics) but for every one that I can think of, it wasn't the brain worms that drove me, it was my cheerleaders. For each of the multi-chapter fics, I had a cheerleader, one person who would comment on every chapter, who would DM me with ideas or question and prompts, who I would bounce plot twists off, who would ask for updates and encouraged and praised me, who were *there* for me, no matter if anyone else even saw my fics they were there excitedly encouraging me to keep going. These fics got pretty big in my opinion, 10+, 20+ or even 30+ chapters of a single story, and it's all because of my cheerleaders. Honestly, if they kept begging for updates, I think I could have written those stories forever, or at least until I found a satisfactory endpoint, they were endless creative fuel.

But eventually each of my cheerleaders drifted away, from loss of interest in the fandom, or we drifted apart as friends or whatever, and with them gone, my motivation tanked and I soon left the fics, they're not abandoned or orphaned, if I find another cheerleader for them maybe I'll pick them back up, but as it is I know I'll never get impassioned about them again on my own.

This is a long way of saying, it's totally understandable to get discouraged by throwing something you made out there only for it to be ignored, the reason you posted it was to get other people's pov and opinions, that's why it's there instead of locked in your hard drive, it really sucks and I completely understand your frustration, I hope you find your cheerleaders some day, good luck and happy writing.

Fellow fic writers (and readers too, I guess): do you stop posting a multiple chapter fic (or multi part fic series) on AO3 if there is very little interest in it in the fandom? Or do you just keep posting it, especially if you personally like that story and invested too much time and feelings in it?

This is a serious question btw, I'm not trying to be whiny here...because I've got no idea about fandom etiquette in that case. Is it fine to keep posting something that will get almost no hits or is that e.g. considered spamming the tag? Especially when it is about a small fandom with not many active authors.

Any answer would be really appreciated and helpful. (Pleeeeease.)

[thealtoduck]

To My Boyfriend | Being Mira’s younger Idol brother and Abby’s boyfriend…

Abby Saja x Male Idol!Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: There was always tension between your sister and your boyfriend and you never really understood why…

Y/g/n = Your group name

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• You had been scouted on the streets of Seoul by a casting agent for an entertainment company. You ended up as a trainee for the company, and when the higher ups found that THE Mira of HUNTR/X was your older sister, you were basically guaranteed to make the debut line-up.

• Eventually you debuted in a four member boy group called ”Y/g/n”, who would become well known for their trendy music.

• You and your members would go on to perform at many music shows. Which is how you met Abby. You had met backstage at one of of the music shows. He had asked you to film a dance challenge for ”Soda Pop” with him and the other members of the Saja Boys.

• Little did you know it was mainly because they wanted to piss off Mira (who when she saw the video of you with them gritted her teeth so hard they almost shattered). Abby had taken it a step further and pulled you into a hug at the end of the dance challenge video, and made the description of the video ”Saja Boys were blessed with Y/n’s legendary visuals🙏”.

• After that he started flirting with you. Asking you to hang out sometime. Which you had agreed to. A while after once you had become close to Abby, he had asked you out on a date.

• The two of you officially became boyfriends. Secretly though since you were idols. Though both of your fandoms had a tendency to ship the two of you anyways, so if you ever affectionate to each other in public they didn’t really complain.

• You also didn’t complain that Abby’s abs were all yours.

• Abby had convinced himself that he was just dating you to annoy Mira and so that he could eventually steal your soul, but at some point (when he had bought you flowers and chocolate was looking forward to give them to you so he could see your smile…) he realised he was probably just really into you.

• So he decided he was just gonna be your boyfriend and not steal your soul.

• Though there was still one problem… Mira (the demon hunter).

• When you had decided it was time for Abby and your sister to meet over dinner, you were surprised to see they had already met… AND that they hated each other’s guts for some reason.

• They constantly bickered for most of the meal and made sneaky remarks at each other until you finally intervened and said ”Okay, you two, seriously stop arguing, it’s just music charts it’s not that deep”.

• At that moment Mira and Abby both remembered that you had no idea about the Demon/Demon Hunter stuff and just assumed they didn’t like each other because of the chart battles between HUNTR/X and Saja Boys and the constant fandom wars between their fans.

• The two then did their best to act civil to each other while in your company. Though anytime you weren’t looking at them or around they glared at each other.

• Despite being your boyfriend Abby would still occaisionally use you as a way to piss Mira off for fun.

• For example, using your phone to send a picture to Mira of you and him having a sleep over at your place and mentioning that you’d be sharing the bed. Which made Mira race halfway across the city because that would NOT be happening on her watch.

• So when she banged on the door until you opened and she was relieved to see the two of you hadn’t gone to bed yet. So she forbade the two of you from sleeping next to each other.

• You at this point were tired of both of them and their arguing and just wanted to go to bed, so you just said ”Fine, you’ll be sleeping middle then”. Abby and Mira both turned to you in shock saying ”What?”. But you just said ”It’s either that or your both sleeping on the floor so come on let’s go to bed”.

• And so you finally went to bed. With Abby on the left side and Mira in the middle, the two whispering insults at each other. And you on the right side of the bed finally getting your sleep. Mira and Abby barely got any sleep at all that night as they refused to let their guard down around the other… but at least YOU slept well.

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[steddieas-shegoes]

another round for me

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'ten rounds with jose cuervo'

rated t | 883 words | cw: alcohol | tags: established steddie, famous corroded coffin, eddie munson lives, he has trauma though

also on ao3

🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺🍺

“Boss said I gotta cut him off,” the bartender apologizes, winces when Eddie spills a drink on the bar. It’s not even his drink. Gareth and Steve share a look with each other before smiling at the bartender. He sighs. “He’s had, like, ten rounds of Cuervo.”

“12.” Steve sighs. “He won’t remember anything after the fifth.”

Gareth nods as they watch him leaning on Frankie, yelling in his ear about the music being shit but the drinks being lit. He turns to the bartender and holds out a $100 bill.

“We’ll go in a few minutes. One more for the road?”

The bartender makes sure his boss isn’t looking, pours another shot, and passes it directly to Gareth. “One more. Security has their eyes on him so be careful.”

Eddie’s not a danger to anyone, not really. Not even when he’s had just about a bottle of tequila all by himself. He’s just loud and clumsy, and sometimes doesn’t realize he’s in someone’s personal space.

Which can definitely be dangerous if he’s too drunk to realize someone’s annoyed.

But they’re all watching him. No one else had as much as him, and Gareth almost never has more than one. He’s always ready to step in if he has to.

“Another one? For meeeeee?” Eddie grins as he leans over to grab the shot from Gareth. “You tryna get me drunk or sum’n?”

Gareth snorts. “You did a great job of that yourself, dude. Last one and then we gotta head out.”

“Steeeeeve. Steve. Is this really the last one?” Eddie pouts and then throws the shot back before Steve can answer him. “That. Was. Water.”

His words are so slurred, it’s almost like he’s speaking another language. They understand him though.

He does this every year on the anniversary of when he almost died. No one argues, no one dares stop him, and most importantly, he’s never alone. Everyone silently recognizes the importance of this ritual and everyone lets him have round after round of whatever liquor he wants. Steve only had to step in one time a couple years ago when they were on tour and fans kept trying to buy him shots. He could get drunk if he wanted, but he couldn’t get alcohol poisoning.

Frankie guides him away from the bar, Jeff trailing behind to make sure no one follows them. Gareth and Steve settle the tab and add on to their already generous tip, thanking the bartender for his patience and understanding.

The walk back to the hotel is short, but the fresh air seems to be enough to keep Eddie from being ill. He’s wobbly, but Frankie’s got him. Steve’s watching him with a mixture of fondness and concern.

Sometimes tequila makes him weepy. None of them have seen how bad it is quite like he has. Hopefully he makes it to the room before he’s crying.

“Frankie. Hey.” Eddie’s voice is a bit quieter, the sounds of the city around them drowning it out a little. Steve can still hear, though. “You think you woulda missed me?”

Uh oh. Frankie slows down, and everyone else does too. Steve is wondering if he could pick Eddie up and run the rest of the way to the hotel, but that would be ridiculous.

“Yeah, man. We all would’ve.” Steve is holding his breath as Eddie processes Frankie’s words.

“He saved me.” Eddie’s voice is shaking now, wobbly with emotion that he tries not to show very often. “Didn’t have to. Risked his life. For me.”

Frankie’s looking at Steve with wide eyes now.

They all know the story. Hard not to tell them every dirty detail eventually. They’re sworn to secrecy, of course. And they don’t ever talk about it unless Eddie brings it up, which is rare.

Usually only on these nights.

“It was worth it,” Steve says quietly, coming up next to him to take his weight from Frankie. “You know it was. Let’s get you to bed.”

Eddie’s surprisingly quiet for the rest of the walk. He hugs everyone as they separate in the elevator. Jeff always stays on the lowest level he can get away with, and Gareth and Frankie will only stay on odd number floors. Eddie likes to stay as high as he can, loves a good view even when it sucks.

He’s quiet when Steve strips off all his clothes and has him at least rinse off in the shower. They can take a longer one in the morning. He’ll need the steam to help his hangover headache.

He’s even quiet when Steve tucks him in, makes him drink a bottle of water, and gets in next to him.

Just when Steve thinks he might be asleep, he lets out a sob.

Steve pulls him close, holds him as tight as he can. He kisses the top of his head, tells him he’s okay. It’s a lot like what he did the night he saved him.

Better though, since there’s no imminent threat or blood anywhere.

“Love you,” Eddie says when he’s finally calmed down.

“Love you, too. Get some rest. We can get room service in the morning.”

“Too much.”

“Hm?” Steve pauses his hands slowly rubbing his back.

“Tequila. Shoulda had less.”

Steve smirks. “Remember that for next year.”

[lucy-literates]

so it’s obvious that alex and charlotte all love jade and how all of them are close with the family i was thinking about some arthur angst about how reader breaks up with him because she didn’t feel comfortable especially maybe because she doesn’t come from money or live a lavish lifestyle like them and felt like she could tell his family missed his ex and loved her better how it ends it’s up to you

A/N: We love a little angst, enjoy!

Not Like Her

You loved Arthur.

That wasn’t the problem.

The problem was everything that came with Arthur.

Luxury dinners you never felt comfortable ordering at. Invitations to Monaco events where you stood awkwardly in Zara heels next to women in Chanel. The quiet moments in his apartment where the silence echoed with memories that didn’t belong to you—didn’t feel like you could ever fill them.

But the worst part?

His family was lovely. Too lovely. Too perfect. Too close.

Especially when they talked about her.

“Charlotte still texts her sometimes,” Alex had said offhandedly once. “You remember how tight they were, right?”

You had smiled, nodded, laughed even. But it stayed with you—like a splinter under your skin.

It wasn’t that they were cruel. They just... adored her. And you? You were a guest. Temporary. A quiet presence who sat beside Arthur at family brunches and didn’t know which spoon to use for dessert.

And the thing that really shattered you?

They didn’t mean to make you feel that way.

Which made it worse.

“I don’t belong in your world,” you said one night, arms crossed, voice already cracking. “And I think we both know it.”

Arthur stood frozen, lips parted, like he didn’t know whether to shout or fall apart.

“Is this about something someone said? Did something happen?”

“No,” you whispered. “That’s the problem. No one had to say anything. I just feel it… every time we walk into a room. Every time they mention her. I’m not her, Arthur. I’ll never be her.”

He moved toward you like a man desperate to stop a car crash. “I don’t want her. I want you.”

“But your life still has pieces of her in it. In them. In all of it.”

He grabbed your hands, tight, as if afraid you’d slip through his fingers. “I never meant to make you feel like this.”

“I know.”

“And I don’t care if you don’t come from money, or if you get overwhelmed at those events—none of that matters to me.”

“But it matters to me,” you said softly. “Because I feel like I’m always a step behind. Always trying to catch up. Always wondering if everyone else wishes I was someone else.”

His hands loosened around yours.

You looked up at him, tears stinging. “I’m tired, Arthur. And I don’t want to keep trying to fit into a life that doesn’t feel like mine.”

ENDING OPTION 1: Bittersweet Breakup

He didn’t fight you.

He wanted to—but he saw it in your eyes. That you weren’t doing this out of drama or punishment. You were doing it because it hurt to stay.

So he let you go.

He kissed your forehead, hands trembling, and said nothing as you closed the door behind you.

And when his family asked where you were next week, he didn’t answer. Because even though he had the money, the pedigree, the history...

He didn’t have you.

ENDING OPTION 2: She leaves… but he follows

Two weeks passed.

And then you heard the knock.

You opened the door to find Arthur, standing on your crumbling apartment steps in a hoodie and track pants, no cameras, no pretense—just him.

“I miss you,” he said, voice rough. “And I don’t give a fuck if you ever step into another gala or meet another sponsor. I don’t care what anyone thinks.”

You swallowed. “What about your family?”

“They’ll love whoever I love. Eventually. And if they don’t? That’s their problem. Because I’m not spending my life loving someone who feels like they have to hide to survive in it.”

He took a step closer.

“And if we don’t belong in either world, then we’ll make our own one. Just us.”

You didn’t speak.

You just stepped forward, and this time—you kissed him.

Tag List:

@livelaughleclerc

@alexxavicry

@ariellovelynn

@linnygirl09

@softhyunieeee

@astrlape

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-BLpv0xQYd1bTlaP7l1gAg8AgCyLE_yvrtljpCzlJhY/edit?usp=sharing

[icumpinkglitterxo]

cherry tomatoes

warnings: drugs, short but sweet, fluff

a/n: this is literally based off of a random headcannon i had when i was at work. this is my new era yall better eat it tf up.

"There's absolutely no way in hell I would ever smoke a joint," Steve says proudly to Robin. She laughs at him, "If you had told me that two months ago, I would've believed you, but it's hard to believe you now when you're literally dating a drug dealer."

Steve pouts, "I'm not gonna let Eddie peer pressure me into doing drugs!" Robin laughs again, "whatever you say, dingus." He scoffs and holds his hand out, "I'll bet you $50." Robin smiles widely and shakes his hand, "You're on."

not even a fucking week later

Steve starts giggling after ten minutes of silence. "And what are you laughing at?" Eddie hums in amusement, taking another long drag of the joint. "The walls are a funny colour," Steve giggles more, reaching for the joint again. Eddie moves his hand away slowly, "Not so fast, sweetheart. I think you've had enough for one night."

Steve pouts, "but it's funny." Eddie just laughs. Another while of silence passes before Steve speaks up again, "you know, I think it's really crazy that like... everyone has fingers. And toes, toes are so weird, don't you think? Well, I mean, not everyone has them, but most people do, and that is just insane." Eddie stares at him blankly before burting into laughter, "you can always tell a persons first high." Steve frowns, "fuck does that mean?" "Nothing, nothing."

"I'm hungry," Eddie sighs, "I was waiting for you to say that, to be honest. I thought you'd take a nap first, though." Steve squints his eyes, "I'm. Hungry." Eddie rolls his eyes and gets up from the bed, "Alright, your majesty, what do you want?" Steve frowns slightly when he gets up. "Cherry tomatoes."

Eddie tilts his head, "Cherry tomatoes..?" Steve nods. Eddie looks around awkwardly, "Baby, I don't have cherry tomatoes. Do you want anything else?" Steve stares at him, "Cherry tomatoes."

Eddie sighs, "There aren't any cherry tomatoes." Steve throws a pillow at him, "Hey! What was that for?" Eddie huffs, "Find some cherry tomatoes."

Eddie huffs and starts mumbling as he walks out of the room while Steve throws more pillows at him. Eddie leaves his trailer and gets in his van, still mumbling to himself.

He's wandering around the supermarket when he bumps into someone. He stumbles slightly, "Shit, sorry- Robin?" Robin looks up at him, "Hi! Is Steve here?" Eddie shakes his head, "Nah, just me." She hums, "Huh, he told me he was gonna be at yours all day..." Eddie nods, "Yeah, he is. He's at my place right now." She tilts her head, "Oh. Well then, why are you here?"

"He's stoned right now and really wants cherry tomatoes, so I'm buying some since I have none. I wouldn't be surprised if I go back and he's already asleep," Eddie chuckles. Robins eyes widen, "Wait wait- he's stoned!?" Eddie nods, "Yeah?" Robin grins. Eddie furrows his eyebrows, "What?" She smiles wider, "He owes me $50." Eddie simply nods. He can already guess what bet they had bet knowing Steve. "Well, congratulations. I gotta get these tomatoes and get back to him before he starts tweaking."

Eddie eventually finds some cherry tomatoes that are in a convenient little tub and pays for them. He gets back in his van and drives home. When he gets back to the trailer, he goes into his room and finds steve lying on the floor, talking to a cat. Eddie's eyes widen, "Steve whose fucking cat is that?" Steve looks up and shrugs, "Dunno, she was pawing at the window though." Eddie blinks at his nonchalance, "So you just... let her in here? She could have fleas, sweetheart." Steve completely freezes, his hand hovering just above the cat. He was absolutely terrified of fleas. "Oh my God."

Eddie lifts the cat and lets her back outside. He pulls Steve up from the floor and walks him into the bathroom, "It's just a stray cat, prince, just wash your hands, and you'll be okay. You won't get fleas." Steve nods and washes his hands.

The two of them go back to the bedroom and sit back down. Eddie hands him the small tub of cherry tomatoes.

Steves eyes light up as he takes them and gasps, "Oh my God, I love you!" Eddie freezes and stares at Steve as he starts eating the tomatoes. Eddie smiles, "That's alright, sweetheart, we'll talk about it when you're sober..." Steve looks up at him, "Talk about what?" Eddie laughs, "Nothing, don't worry about it."

After a while, the two of them are lying in bed watching an old cartoon. Steve eventually does fall asleep, exactly like Eddie predicted. He runs his fingers through the sleeping mans hair carefully to not wake him and sighs.

"I love you too."

[bean-cream]

Calisthenics reader who geneuinly shocks all of tf141?? I think so.

(Mainly afab reader, but can be interpreted as gn :3)

At first when you joined the team, you were quiet. Almost disturbingly so, you rivaled ghost on a level even he couldn't live up to.

Laswell had all but thrown your file onto prices desk one late September night, a horribly held back smile on her face, and left without a word.

Callsign: Priest, Intelligence specialist, forigen enlistment. You worked with any and all technology, and if you didn't know how to use it, it was a matter of hours before you had mastered the program inside and out. Civvies would call you a hacker, the military calls you a force to be reckoned with.

Bank statements need to be found? 20 minutes tops and you have records since the account was made, and any seperate accounts that have deposited or taken money are also pulled up.

Need access to cameras and/or security footage? All you need is a location and the brand of cameras. Hell, just the location would do.

Needless to say, you were good at what you do. But communication? On a friendship level? or ANY level for that matter? God awful. If the world came to you having a casual conversations with someone, and the planet fucking exploding? Everyone is dead. No survivors, no planet. Dead.

It had been nearly two weeks since your transfer from somewhere in a foreign country ghost didn't really care to remeber, and you had maybe spoken a total of fifteen words to all four of them together.

So he took it upon himself to do what he does best. Observe.

Well, lurk, really, but he fancys calling it observation.

You muttered things to yourself often times, and spend most of your time either in the computer lab, (go figure) the gym, or your barracks room.

He started slow, told the the boys his intent with getting to know you and to act normal while he attempted to get close to you.

Important mission, high risk, high reward, difficulty; deadly.

He would plan his workout times to match up with yours, staggered by about 15 minutes so you'd leave before he did, and magically found very important things to be doing in the computer lab while you were also in there. Usually it consisted of playing minesweeper for about thirty minutes before he inevitably got pissed off and left.

He started getting closer to you durring meal time, sitting at a table closer and closer to you every few days to get you used to him being around, and eventually worked up enough nerve to sit at the same table as you.

You barely give him a glance, eyes on your food, shoveling the overly watery, unflavored sweet corn into your mouth by the spoonful like it'd run away screaming if you ate it any slower.

Moderate cause for concern, but alright.

Ghost didnt really pay attention to what you did in the gym beyond a few appreciative glances at your form every now and then.

However, one fateful Tuesday in November, he pays more attention than usual.

And what. The. Fuck

He knew you rarely used weights, preferred stretching, running, and balance over anything else, but this?

You were holding onto two raised bars, keeping your body perfectly horizontal with them, doing push-ups fairly slowly. Mid. Air. Headphones on, focus completely on the ground about 3 feet beneath you.

And not only did you stay horizontal, but you switched, swinging your legs up so you were vertical, face to the ground, pushing your body up and down.

He stood there for maybe three solid minutes, just looking at you in awe, untill you inevitably looked over at him, feeling a pair of eyes practically burning holes into your arms.

He quickly looked away, ans nearly 2 hours later, you wander to the shared kitchen in the common room, empty mug in hand, only to hear hushed whispers from none other than ghost himself.

"No, dude, im telling you. They're *jacked*. Like, you gotta see what I saw to understand it." He almost sounded... giddy.

"Thay dinnae uise weights, they've gotta be wabbit, no?"

You slipped headphones back on before you could hear more. After all, evse dropping was impolite- ignoring the fact that its literally your job description-

Around a week later, ghost approaches you, radiating that somehow impossibly calm and collected aura he has constantly, and asks if you can show him how you train. -man's was literally shitting bricks working up an OUNCE of nerve to talk to you-

And you do.

By the end of it, he's on the ground, panting, muscles cramping up, and sharp pains in places he didn't even know existed.

Of course, he tells the boys, and one by one, they each come to you and ask if you can show them a few exercises from your routine.

You show soap a few stretches to have better balance and stability in joints like his shoulders, ankles and wrists, and you show gaz some balance oriented workouts to help him with agility and endurance. Price gets the easy stuff. Beginner stretches, and more simple stuff, a few workouts thrown in there to help with the chronic back pain you had taken note of.

At the end of the week, they're all sore and whiny about how everything hurts, and you're just there amused at the utter lack of control they have over their bodies.

They call it consensual torture, you call it a basic workout.

(Ps. This is my first time posting on Tumblr in this format pls be nice I have no clue what im doing 😔 #previous Ao3 author of the 2020 you know what minecraft epidemic pls shoot me i literally dont know what im doing)

(P.P.S i clicked something that made the vote thing pop up and idk how to get rid of it pls just ignore it or smthn idk 😭)

[spacefoxy]

since this might break containment,and now that i feel i can somewhat coherently tell my story. here's a long story not so short, i had been suffering from horrible headaches since the summer of 2024.i was in the ER almost daily at one point. i was so sick i was projectile vomiting out of nowhere the pain was so horrid i was afraid to be alone and i literally cried in pain.every er visit was the same, they gave me painkillers and i eventually started to feel better and they let me go home.i had to call an ambulance for myself several times. i saw a neurologist.who said it was just migraine. now i have had migranes before and they had never been like this.but i didn't contest a profssional. and was kind of happy the diagnosis was nothing dangerous. so i accepted it.

next i lost my ability to read. i suddenly did not recognise letters anymore. when i tried to read something out only gibberis came out of my mouth.i vouldn't watch tv because it made me dizzy. to a doctor i go again. oh it's just migrane.never in my life has migrane affected me like this but ok. i'll take it.

again, finding solace in the fact that everyone is diagnosing it as migrane. so it's nothing dangerous or serious.

oh boy was i wrong!

one evening, i went to bed like normal, having no idea what awaited me in the morning.

i e´woke up like normal. got up from the bed, or tried to get up. i just remember how suddenly the night stand was coming closer and closer. as my body crashed into it breaking it in half, i realised i had been falling.

from there i xrashed ontto the floor.never to be able to get up.

my consciousness was going in and out so i didn't really understand what was going on. i was just very confused about my sudden fall.i thought i must have tripped on something.

in reality. my neck artery had been severed and it was bleeding into my brain. causing it to swell up and take massive damage. while i slept. so when i woke up i was already paralyzed and that's why i fell.

my hell was just beginning. i was on the floor and my limbs were not working. my phone had been on the night stand and now it was out of my reach.honestly had i been able to call i would have only managed garbled nonsense.

i drifted between vague idea of reality and hallucinations. only able to babble absolute insanity.

finally after 3 or so days had passed like this.my mother finally came to see if i was ok because she had not been able to reach me at all. she found me on the bedroom floor barely conscious in a pool of my own blood.

i didn't even understand anyone was there all i could see was bright white light and i couldn't understand what i was hearing. none of it really made any sense to me. mom called an ambulance. and suddenly i remember there being many voices and a lot of activity around me. one of the first responders was trying to keep me conscious slapping me on the cheek and continuously telling me to stay with them and not to close my eyes. tthen i heard mom's voice oh no jen, something terrible has happened but don't worry you get to go to the hospital now. all i could think of was why?? i didnn't even hurt myself badly during that fall! i was not conscious enough to realise it wasn't the fall, it was what was happening in my brain.

so i was taken to a hospital.where the severety of my situation started to dawn on me. as i realised i couldn't changé my position in the hospital bed at all. and then i realised my left arm and leg were doing nothing my left arm felt fake and not part of me..also i couldn't see to my left.

so i was half blind and paralyzed. great.

my first thought was i wish i had died instead. this life isn't worth living anymore.i'll be just a passive lump in a bed unable to take part in life.

when i got my phone finally, i realised how bad my cognitive damage reallywas, i didn't know how to operate the phone at all.it was like i had never seen a smart phone in my life.

stubbornly i tried to make sense of it. i finally imanaged to contact people. and word traveled to tumblr. and i received a massive amount of wonderful supportive messages from prople. and my wish for my own death melted away.i realised there are still wonderful peoplewho care about me to keep in contact with andi can still do something goodwith this life of mine by making these people happy.by continuing to do what i have done til now. i can still do something meaningful!

and that's how i got over the initial shock. every time my thoughts got dark. i dug up those messages to drown out the darkness. at least i still had the fandom to live for!

i have been trying to get back to normal life the best i can.

i'm currently out of hospital but i cannot live independently. i'm in assisted living. which is basically a carehome.i have 24/7nurse care. it beats being in a hospital but it does cost me around 1k a month. on top of a lot of other necessary expences.

i'm looking at the older posts i made about this stuff.and i'm having a hard time understanding myself so bless everyone who attempted to decypher my gibberis. i'm taking a lot of extra time to type this up.real nice and legible.

my issue is some days my cognitive issues flare up. my brain is severly damaged, in mri scans there are black areas essentially meaning there is no activity. those parts of my brain are as good as dead.

the parts of my brain that handle vision did take a lot of damage. i'm lucky to have what little of it i have. the biggest issue still is visual neglect on the left side. what that means is basically. my brain has trouble figuring out what i'm seeimng on the left side, and if it's too difficult to understand my brain just gives up and visually erases things from existance,so i keep like bumping into furniture i didn't see.

sometimes its a whole object, or partial. like the creepiest was when people started missing their heads for me this issue still makes my life difficult. but i have learned if i don't find something to turn my headwhile looking to the left.this helps. but as a result. its not safe for me to go outside alone i might get ran over by a car i did not see coming etc. or i could get lost because just navigating my surroundings is hard, my vision is warped, sometimes i even see things that are not there. like a way has been barred when it is not in reality.

i also hallucinate sometimes, these are both visual and auditorial.which makes them feel super real.sometimes it's hard to tell what is reality and what isn't.

i also have trouble withflow of time. sometimes i don't know if it's the next day and have i slept or not.

also imagining things is hsrd for me. or just thinking about abstract concepts.

also putting my thoughts to words or text is hard.

i have difficulty speaking. and sometimes my speech is unclear.the amopunt of times i have had to repeat myself isn't even funny, i also have to slow down my speech which makes me look stupid most likely but heck if i care.

many days i spend sitting in my assisted living home, staring forwardnodding off and drooling barely aware of my surroundings,

so yay. but at least i have this outlet. to keep in contact with ppl and do something fun.

i have tried my best to find rarer images for the fandom again but it's been hard. i've been doing my best.

i keep thinking to myself" i didn't come this far to give up now!

just sheer stubbornness and unwillingness to give up has kept me going.

i was so close to death. i could have died on my bedroom floor. i'd like to think there is a reason i'm still here.i'm lucky to be alive.

Help for a disabled Kiss Fan + Archivist!

@spacefoxy (Jen) has been part of the online Kiss community for well over a decade. Her publishing and archiving of Kiss images, audio and video has created many new Kiss fans, including me! She has special focus on her favorite member (drummer Eric Carr who passed away in 1991) and has kept his memory alive for people to discover and enjoy his talent. Her Tumblr blog is linked below:

Jen suffered a severe medical incident in late 2024 that led to physical and cognitive injury, including paralysis. She has provided periodic updates about her surgeries, recovery, and the new struggles due to her condition. After her injury, Jen is also experiencing a restriction of her finances, which was against her wishes.

As a music fan who has discovered so many bands through the efforts of online fandoms, I want to repay Jen for searching, preserving, and sharing so much entertaining media, and all for free!

��💙💙Below link is for her Throne Wishlist. The most important items on her Wishlist involve funding for daily care and for a new wheelchair. It will make me so happy if this post inspires anybody to donate -- but more importantly it would help Jen live easier with her disability.

If you are unable to donate, please reblog and share with others. Every little bit helps! 💙💙💙

I have shared a few posts from Jen that describe her experiences with her condition and recovery.

https://spacefoxy.tumblr.com/post/764213783193436160/hi-jen-dont-ever-scare-us-like-that-again-i

https://spacefoxy.tumblr.com/post/778370215399636992/i-pivked-up-my-new-afos-today-it-stands-for-ankle

https://tmblr.co/Z5UredgR26C7iy00

https://www.tumblr.com/spacefoxy/787705468272394240/so-in-the-latest-turn-of-events-my-parents-put?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/spacefoxy/788054026330783744/when-i-got-sick-last-year-and-was-in-the-hospital?source=share

And for all of the Kiss fans, below is a Linktree to Jen's social media accounts if you want to dive into all of the Kiss / Eric Carr media she has digitally accumulated. (The "Eric Carr Photo Project" is an impressive feat by itself!)

SpaceFoxy | Instagram, Facebook, TikTok, Twitch | Linktree

[spotaus]

Late Night quick thing (New Age Sillies)

Bad news: That joke post about including Reset + Orchid is definitely not canon. (I legit got sad thinking about Reset being in a universe where Orchid isn't- because their stories are so so intertwined- but Nightmare 100% would NOT risk the whole twins exploding Error's soul thing.)

Good news: This means I COULD include Kane (Reset's older brother who usually dies in timelines where Reset is born) and use it to develope his character a bit more! Also! Perhaps a Blue × Dream kiddo is finally in the stars for me to design?

[shima-draws]

Apart from Sanlu and Zolu which other pairing do you like within the one-piece universe? And how did you get into one piece?

I'm a HUGE multishipper at heart so honestly I like just about everything. FAVORITE ships tho besides Sanlu and Zolu are Lawlu, any combination of Luffy/Zoro/Sanji/Law, Namivivi, and Frobin!! Other ships I really like are Kobylu, Usokana, Saboala, Yamace, Sabosan, Namicari, Mishanks, Corashanks, Zorokiku, and the East Blue polycule c:

As for how I got into OP--one of my closest friends showed me the animated video of Ado singing Backlight as Uta and that had me like 👀👀👀 Basically it was Film Red that served as the introduction to One Piece for me. Also I have a few mutuals that are really into it too so seeing lots of fun OP art come across my dash eventually got to me LOL

I started watching the actual anime before I watched Film Red, but it was maybe like 5 episodes or so. So really Film Red was the beginning of everything :"D

[orcelito]

Don't know whether it's a product of my upbringing or just part of who I am, but I really do tend to shrug off things that seem to send others into massive guilt spirals. Like, what's the point? Either you meant to do it or you didn't. If you meant to do it but regret it now, make what amends you can & resolve to do better, then move on. If you didn't mean to, be honest about it, apologize if need be, & try to do better. Then move on.

Beating yourself up truly serves no purpose. What are we, catholic? If there is a god, I truly don't think they'd care, anyways

[maskedbyghost]

cw: manipulation, possessive reader, suggestive language

You told him you didn’t do casual.

You didn’t make it a big deal. You just said it like you meant it, not trying to sound dramatic or emotional about it. Just honest.

“I don’t do casual,” you said, eyes on your drink. “It always ends up messy, and I’m not built for that.”

Simon leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “That’s alright,” he said eventually. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”

You nodded. No reaction on your face, no shift in tone. “Then we can just be friends.”

He raised an eyebrow like he was trying to figure you out. “You sure?”

You smiled a little. “Yeah. I like hanging out with you. We don’t have to fuck.”

“…Alright,” he said, after a pause. “Friends.”

And that was the start.

Except friends don’t show up to his gym when he’s meeting a girl for a workout date.

Friends don’t slip him a text during his Tinder dinner like,

“you left your hoodie here again. i’m wearing it. smells like you.”

Friends don’t show up to the pub when he’s got plans with someone, all dolled up like you just rolled out of a damn music video, giving his date a once-over and offering a tight smile that says run, babe.

You’d always act surprised when things didn’t work out. “Oh no, she ghosted you? That’s so weird.”

And Simon? He wasn’t completely oblivious. But he was tired, and lonely, and honestly kind of lazy when it came to trying to figure women out, and you were just so easy to be around, so warm and funny and low-maintenance and somehow always around when he needed someone.

So when he started seeing you more than anyone else, it didn’t feel weird. It felt right.

He told himself it was just friendship.

Even when you leaned against him on the couch. Even when you started sleeping over. Even when he started feeling a little sick thinking about you with anyone else.

The night it finally changed, he had just come back from a shit deployment — nothing too dangerous, just long and annoying and cold, and you’d been waiting at his place (with your own key, because somehow that had happened), and you were in his clothes, curled up in his bed with takeout, and when he saw you like that he just… stopped thinking.

“You’re perfect for me,” he said quietly, almost like he was talking to himself.

You blinked, looking up from your phone. “What?”

“I was so fucking stupid,” he muttered, dropping his bag, walking toward you like something magnetic was pulling him in. “I didn’t see it. I don’t know why.”

You didn’t say anything right away. You just looked at him for a second, then smiled, slow and easy, like you’d been waiting for him to finally figure it out, like none of it really surprised you, but you were still happy to hear it out loud.

From there, it was easy.

The relationship happened fast. Slipped into place like it had always been there. He’d gone from “I don’t do serious” to leaving his toothbrush at your place, to falling asleep with his face buried in your neck, to holding your hand in public without even realizing he was doing it.

He was happy. Stupidly happy. The kind that made his friends suspicious and his coworkers tease him. The kind that made you look like the hero of some cozy domestic fantasy where nothing ever goes wrong and love is enough.

It wasn’t one big moment. It was a bunch of little ones that slowly added up until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Like how you always just showed up when he had plans, how his phone would buzz with a text from you right before he left for a date. Or how you’d casually mention how certain girls “weren’t his type,” even when he never brought them up to you.

And then one day, while you were going through an old playlist together, you said, “God, I remember this song. I used to listen to it every time I thought about you with someone else.” And you didn’t even blink after saying it.

And the more he thinks about it, the more it starts adding up.

You’d played him. You’d baited him.

And now he’s sitting on the couch, watching you walk into the room in one of his old T-shirts, holding a bowl of snacks, looking like home, and he honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or be pissed off or bend you over the arm of the sofa and remind you who he is.

You plop into his lap like you do it every day (because you do), nestling in like you’re settling into your rightful throne, and he wraps his arms around your waist automatically, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You know what I realized today?” he asks, voice low.

You hum. “What?”

He tilts his head like he’s thinking it through. “We’re together because you manipulated me.”

You pause for like… half a second. Then?

“Yeah,” you say, nonchalant. “And?”

He squints at you, mouth twitching like he can’t decide if he wants to smile or frown. “You sabotaged every girl I tried to hook up with.”

“I did,” you say, and lean forward to grab the remote. “Most of them were trash anyway.”

“You tricked me into thinking you weren’t interested.”

“Mhm.” You don’t even look at him. “Worked, didn’t it?”

There’s this long silence, and then Simon groans and lets his head fall back on the couch dramatically.

“I should be mad,” he mutters.

“You’re not,” you say, smiling down at him like he’s your prize. “You love me.”

“Fuck, woman,” he breathes, eyes locked on yours. “That turns me on.”

You grin, shifting your weight so you’re straddling him properly, hands sliding up his chest slowly until your fingers curl around the back of his neck. You squeeze—not hard, just enough to make him feel it.

“You belong to me,” you whisper against his ear. “Always have.”

He shivers. Actually shivers.

“…Jesus.”

You kiss his jaw, slow and smug. “Say it.”

“…Yours.”

“Good boy.”

And yeah. He is.

PART 2

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

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Sequel here

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[0scarp1astr1]

Spoiled Much? (P1)

જ⁀➴ Desc: || Pranking them but telling them you let another man pay for you. ||

P2

ᯓ★ Featuring: Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, Lewis Hamilton, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz, Fernando Alonso.

ᯓ★ 1x Genre: Humor

ᯓ★ Warning: None

ᯓ★ Requested? Yes

Author Note: We are back to headcanons! and doing requests given to me. I've been working on the masterlist that will soon replace the original pinned post. It'll have links to each part of these headcanosn so I hope you all enjoy.

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Max Verstappen

It all started with a few innocent scrolls on TikTok—girls pranking their boyfriends left and right—and you figured, why not? Max had just handed you his card to go grab a few things from the store, trusting you like he always did. That’s when the perfect plan popped into your mind.

"Call me if you need me," he said casually, completely unaware. You hummed in response, leaned over to kiss his cheek, and slipped out of the car with a little too much pep in your step.

Max leaned back in the driver’s seat, letting the car sit idle in the parking spot. At first, he thought nothing of your delay. He assumed you were just stuck in a long line. Meanwhile, inside, you were hunched over a cart, hiding your giggles behind your hand as you rehearsed the prank in your head.

Eventually, you managed to compose yourself, strolled out with your bags in hand, and tossed them into the back seat before slipping into your place beside him. You buckled up, eyes wide with innocent mischief.

"The man I ran into was really nice—he paid for everything," you said smoothly.

Max turned toward you, brow already furrowing. "The man?" he echoed, confused. "What are you talking about, lieverd?"

You nodded, playing it cool. "Yeah, he said I was pretty and that I shouldn’t have to pay on my own, so...he paid for everything."

Max leaned toward you, staring like he was trying to read your soul. "You weren’t paying on your own? That was literally my card."

"Yeah," you shrugged, holding it out to him. "But he insisted."

He took the card from your hand, jaw tightening slightly. "How old was this guy?"

You pretended to think, dragging out the moment. "Hmm… around your age, I guess?"

Max scoffed. "And he just—what—started complimenting you and offered to pay? Just like that?"

You fought the urge to burst into laughter. "He wasn’t hitting on me," you said, smiling just a little too much.

"He called you pretty," Max shot back, frowning. "And don’t get me wrong—you are—but still. He clearly meant what he said. That’s not casual."

You just nodded solemnly, letting the tension hang in the air a second longer before he abruptly unbuckled. "Alright, I’m going back inside to find this guy."

You grabbed his arm, laughter spilling out now. "Max, wait—"

"No, seriously," he huffed. "He thinks you’re single or something. Like he has a shot. I can afford to fly you to Monaco, let you live in my house, be spoiled every day of your life—what can he offer you?"

You were full-on laughing now, tears threatening to sting your eyes. "Baby, I was pranking you. There was no guy. I used your card like you said."

Max froze, blinking at you. Slowly, his stern expression melted into something softer, almost amused.

"You’re evil," he muttered, shaking his head. Then he let out a quiet laugh of his own. "Don’t joke like that, lieverd. You know I don’t care if people think you’re pretty—but if someone’s actually hitting on you? No. Absolutely not."

You leaned over, kissing his cheek. "Look at you, all protective and jealous."

"You nearly scared me to death, lieverd,"

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Charles Leclerc

Charles was home, lounging on the couch with Leo curled up beside him, the little dog resting his chin on Charles' leg like the most loyal companion. The TV played softly in the background, a comforting buzz. Before you left, Charles had handed you his card with a smile, telling you to get whatever you were craving for dinner tonight. But instead of heading straight home after shopping, you were too busy plotting your latest prank—one inspired by a few too many TikToks.

"I'm home!" you called out as you stepped inside. At once, Leo perked up, leaping from the couch and padding over to greet you with his tail wagging wildly.

Charles looked over his shoulder. "I was starting to worry," he said, standing up. "You took longer than usual."

You smiled innocently, setting your keys down and slipping off your shoes. After leaning in to kiss his cheek, you dropped the first line. "Sorry, this guy paid for everything and we just got caught up in conversation."

Charles froze, staring at you like you'd just said the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “Je t’ai donné ma carte ?” he asked, blinking slowly.

You hummed. "I know, but he was really sweet. Said I shouldn’t worry my pretty little head about paying. He covered it."

Charles just stared for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “That’s unbelievable. People are going to assume you're dating him.”

You fought back a grin, holding it in with all your strength. "No one’s going to think that but you, Charles."

“Sure, sure,” he muttered, eyes narrowing as he turned on his heel and headed toward the kitchen. You followed him, bags in hand.

"Tu fais la moue ?" you teased once inside, catching a glimpse of his unmistakably pouty expression.

Charles didn’t even try to hide it. He just stared at you, arms crossed like a sulking prince. “I treat you well. We live in Monaco. We have Leo,” he gestured around, like the dog was part of his romantic résumé. “I drive in F1—and you're letting some random guy hit on you, baby?”

You couldn’t help it anymore. You broke, laughing as you set the bags on the counter. “I was just messing with you, Charles. There was no guy. I used your card—like I was supposed to.”

He let out a long sigh, his head dropping back slightly. “Don’t scare me like that, woman. I thought some random was actually going to take you away from me.”

You walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m with you, Charles. Why would some random have me?”

He gave a tiny shrug, still sulking. “You never know.”

You patted his back playfully. “I got you good,” you said through a soft laugh. Leo barked at your feet as if to agree, his tail wagging like he, too, was in on the joke.

Charles looked down at the dog, then at you, his pout slowly morphing into a smirk

“Yeah, well—just wait, Y/N. One day, I’ll get you back.”

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Lewis Hamilton

You and Lewis had been shopping together most of the day, casually wandering the aisles like the soft domestic duo you were. At some point, Lewis veered off toward the pet section to get Roscoe a few new treats and maybe a fresh toy or two, promising to meet you up front when he was done. You nodded sweetly and went your own way—though behind that innocent look, you were plotting. And not just any plan: a prank. A classic, lighthearted trap for your sweet, loving, “just tell me what you need and I’ll buy it” boyfriend.

After grabbing everything you came for, you paid for your cart using your own money, then waited with the most innocent look you could muster. Lewis eventually showed up, a plush dog bed under one arm and a pack of Roscoe’s favorite snacks in the other.

"You already paid for your stuff?" he asked, dropping the items onto the counter.

You nodded, slipping into character. "No actually… this really nice guy offered to pay. Said I looked beautiful today, and he didn’t want me lifting a finger."

Lewis blinked. “He what?”

"He paid for me," you repeated with a shrug, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. "Said it was his pleasure. Real gentleman type."

Lewis squinted at you like you just told him someone insulted Roscoe. "Baby… that man was flirting with you."

You shook your head, playing dumb. “No, he was just being nice.”

“Right. ‘Just being nice,’” Lewis echoed, making air quotes with a look of complete disbelief. “Because men randomly pay for groceries out of the kindness of their hearts and not at all to shoot their shot with a gorgeous woman.”

You kept your poker face as he grabbed the shopping bags and kept going. “I don’t see myself out here buying random women’s almond milk and cucumbers just to be nice. That’s a move.”

You tried to hide your smirk. “You sound a little… jealous.”

Lewis narrowed his eyes. “I’m not jealous. I’m logical. Man sees a beautiful woman, she’s alone, he tries his luck with his wallet. Basic flirting algorithm.”

“I mean, it worked. He was really sweet.”

That did it.

Lewis ran a hand down his face and let out a long sigh. “Look, it’s great someone thinks you’re hot enough to swipe a card for—but you know I’m right here. You never have to let some man pay for you when your boyfriend drives for a living. Just sayin’.”

You watched him ramble with a barely contained laugh as he kept going.

“I mean, come on, I spoil you for a reason. And now some stranger thinks he can step in with a grocery run? That’s his whole move?”

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You burst into laughter, your body shaking as you leaned into the cart. “Lewis. Babe. It was a prank. I paid for everything. No man, no flirting, no almond milk Casanova.”

He blinked, pausing mid-rant. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“I am. Gotcha.”

He took a breath like someone who’d just been pulled from open water. “I’m forty, woman. You can’t play with my blood pressure like that.”

You grinned. “Alright, old man.”

Lewis straightened up immediately. “I am not an old man.”

“You didn’t even catch on to the prank, grandpa.”

He narrowed his eyes, his lips tugging into a smirk. “Forty doesn’t make me old. It makes me wise. And this wise man now knows he’s being pranked in public.”

You patted his back “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll go easy on you next time.”

Lewis gave a low chuckle, wagging a finger at you.

“No, no. You started something. A prank war is officially declared. So… just be prepared.”

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Lando Norris

When it came to you and Lando, pranks weren’t just an occasional thing—they were a lifestyle. The relationship came with love, laughter, and a mild risk of heart attacks. Like the time he woke you up at 3AM with a horror mask and you nearly karate-kicked him into next week. Or when you served him a fish smoothie and he banned you from the blender for a month. Your TikTok followers? Obsessed. They lived for every prank war update, every meltdown, every squeal of revenge.

So when you got tagged in a new viral prank trend, it was practically a public request to strike again. You didn’t hesitate. The phone was propped up, camera rolling discreetly, and you were all set. Lando, of course, had no clue what was coming.

You heard the door open and quickly pretended to be busy with prep in the kitchen. He walked in, hoodie slightly damp from the gym, cheeks flushed from the workout. “Smells good,” he said, setting down the grocery bag before leaning in for a soft kiss. “Took me forever to find that stupid oat cream you like.”

You smiled sweetly. “Oh, you didn’t have to. I ended up sending that list to Joshua earlier, and he already grabbed everything for me. Paid for it too. Said, and I quote, ‘anything for the pretty lady.’ Sweet, huh?”

Lando froze, hand still half-in the bag. “Joshua?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, biting your inner cheek.

He blinked. “As in your friend Joshua? The one who wears too much cologne and tried to teach me how to salsa at that dinner party?”

You tilted your head. “Yeah, he insisted.”

Lando scoffed, standing up straighter. “I literally sweat through my hoodie at the gym, fought for a parking spot, went to four aisles for oat cream—and you let another man, one who smells like a Hugo Boss sample sale, buy your groceries?”

You struggled to keep a straight face. “He was being nice.”

“Oh, nice? Nice?! That’s the international signal for flirting. What’s next, is he gonna tuck you into bed and read you poetry? Babe, if I see him handing you a spoon while you're cooking, I might lose it.”

“Are you jealous?”

“I’m insulted. I’m offended. I’m—” He placed a hand over his chest. “—deeply betrayed. I mean, I pay rent! I drive race cars for a living! I went out to get snacks for your cravings at 4AM one time! And now I’m just… footnote boyfriend?”

You snorted. “You’re so dramatic.”

He gasped. “Go ask Joshua to massage your feet tonight then. My spa services are officially retired. Hope he has peppermint oil.”

At that point, you burst into laughter, pointing toward the camera recording from the corner. Lando followed your gaze, groaned, and dragged a hand down his face. “You little gremlin,” he muttered. “Of course it’s a prank. Of course.”

“Aww, you love me.”

“I do. Too much. Which is why you’re lucky you’re cute, because anyone else trying this would be blocked and reported.”

You leaned up, kissing his jaw gently. “You’re my favorite victim.”

He smirked. “And you’re my favorite menace. But just know—this war? It’s not over. I know you're scared of some bugs and some...other things. I’ve got Oscar on speed dial.”

Your eyes widened. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, I will. I already know where you hide your slippers.”

“LANDO NORRIS!” you shrieked as he backed into the hallway, giggling like the absolute child he was.

“Love you!” he called over his shoulder.

“Calling Oscar now! Let’s ruin her life!”

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Carlos Sainz

Carlos and you had been on the road for way too long, the kind of drive where you’ve already debated three podcast topics, played the same five songs on repeat, and shared half a bag of chips in silence. You were coming back from a much-needed trip—two full weeks away from the chaos of daily life. But now, you were finally heading home. And honestly? You were ready.

Still, you needed one last laugh before real life kicked back in. So, naturally, you plotted a prank.

You’d been riding like a queen in the passenger seat the whole time—pillow tucked under your head, cozy in the Christmas blanket Carlos had gotten you last year, doing everything but offering to drive. So when Carlos offered to go into the store to grab some snacks, you stopped him with a sweet smile and a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll go,” you insisted, taking his card from his hand.

He smirked. “Okay, but bring chips. Whatever you pick, I’ll eat it, mi amor.”

Inside, you grabbed everything you both liked—chips, drinks, something sweet. But instead of swiping his card, you paid with yours. And as you made your way back to the car, the plan was already in motion.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you handed him his card back with a calm smile. “You know,” you said casually, “the cashier was really nice. Paid for everything himself. Said he’d just take it out of his paycheck. Also told me my shirt looked cute.”

Carlos stared at you. “Wait—my shirt? That’s literally mine, you’re wearing my clothes.”

“Yeah, but he liked it,” you said with a shrug. “Said it brought out my eyes.”

Carlos blinked at you like he’d just short-circuited. “Oh my god.”

You bit your lip, trying to hide your laugh.

“Mi amor, what do you mean some random cashier paid for your snacks and flirted with you while you were wearing my clothes? Do I look like I’m sharing?”

You tried to keep a straight face as he gestured wildly at the snack bag like it had betrayed him. “I don’t even want these anymore. I can’t eat the chips. They’ve been... compromised.”

“Carlos—”

“No, seriously. You have a ring on your finger! Granted, it’s a promise ring, but still, the promise is loud and clear! I was gone for five minutes and I already lost you to a gas station Romeo?”

That was it. You burst out laughing, your head thrown back as tears formed in your eyes.

He narrowed his gaze, suspicious. “Wait. No. Don’t tell me...”

Still giggling, you nodded. “It’s a prank. I paid with my card.”

He groaned and started the engine again, shaking his head. “You almost gave me a heart attack, mi vida.”

You wiped your eyes, still giggling. “I have to tell Charles about this. He’s going to love it.”

Carlos turned, deadpan. “Do not tell Charles. I swear, if that man starts calling me Gas Station Cuckold or something—”

“You’re being dramatic!”

“I’m being real!” he exclaimed. “That was emotional damage.”

You leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You love me.”

He sighed. “Way too much. And that’s exactly the problem.”

You laughed again as he muttered under his breath, pulling back onto the road. “Just know...this isn’t over. I’ve got something planned. Something evil.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirked.

He grinned. “Just wait till you wake up to find glitter in your shampoo.”

“CARLOS!”

“Love you!”

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Fernando Alonso

You and Fernando had only recently tied the knot — rings still shining, wedding playlists still stuck in your heads. The honeymoon? Cut short by his ever-demanding racing schedule. But to make up for it (and to keep his guilt in check), Fernando had surprised you with a follow-up getaway, your choice of destination. Romantic, thoughtful… and, as you decided, the perfect setting to prank your new husband.

The internet had become obsessed with your marriage — overnight, you'd gone from “regular girl with decent taste in sunglasses” to “Fernando Alonso’s wife who posts adorable reels.” So when fans started tagging you in prank challenges, you figured: why not give the people what they want?

Camera hidden. Kitchen smelling like garlic and glory. Tomatoes being sliced with intention. You were ready.

Fernando walked into the vacation home and immediately lit up. “Huele bien,” he smiled, shrugging off his jacket.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sliding the tomatoes into the pot. “Took me a minute to get it all, though. I accidentally brought the wrong card with me to the store.”

He frowned immediately, concerned. “You should’ve called me, mi amor. I would’ve paid—”

“No need. A very sweet guy at the store paid for me. Said he didn’t want a pretty girl like me to struggle.”

The air stilled. Fernando blinked. Once. Twice.

“I’m sorry, what?” he said slowly.

You kept stirring the pot, tone completely casual. “Yeah, he just insisted. Said it was no trouble. Even complimented my top. Super nice guy.”

Fernando was now planted in place like he’d just been hit with a yellow flag mid-race.

“So... some stranger,” he started, arms crossing, “paid for your groceries. Complimented you. And you just… thanked him and left?”

“Yep.”

“You didn’t say, ‘Oh, I’m married to Fernando Alonso, two-time world champion, racing legend, heartthrob since 2001’?”

You blinked innocently. “Didn’t think it was necessary.”

Fernando threw his hands up. “Necessary?! That ring I gave you is the size of a small island. It has its own timezone. You could signal planes with it.”

You bit back a grin as he kept spiraling. “And this guy? Just decided to be your white knight? At the produce section?! He sees you picking tomatoes and thinks, ‘Yes, this damsel needs saving’?”

You nodded, trying so hard not to laugh. “Pretty much.”

He started pacing. “No. No, no, no. See, I make you feel better when you’re down. I buy you things. I compliment you. I signed up for that role! This guy? He’s just freelancing emotional support. I should find him.”

You turned, finally pointing toward the fruit bowl hiding your phone. “Or... you could relax. Because you’ve been pranked.”

Fernando froze. “You’re joking.”

You just smiled.

He leaned in, spotting the camera, then groaned dramatically. “Oh my god. I gave a full speech. I even included my racing credentials.”

“And it was a very passionate monologue,” you teased.

He stared at you, narrowing his eyes. “You’re evil.”

“Maybe. But I’m your evil.”

He shook his head, muttering something in Spanish before pausing. “Also… be honest with me. Was I really hot in the early 2000s?”

Your head snapped up. “Fernando. You were unfairly hot in the 2000s. Like, ‘could’ve ruined my life if we’d met back then’ hot. The hair? The fire? The attitude? I would've fallen hard.”

He raised a brow, trying not to look too pleased. “Gracias, mi vida. Very sweet of you.”

Then he pointed at you, smug returning full force. “But don’t think flattery will save you. You will be pranked back. And when it happens? You’ll regret ever stirring that tomato sauce.”

You giggled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re dramatic.”

He smirked, grabbing a spoon and tasting the pasta. “I was adorable in the 2000s too.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m going to post this entire thing.”

“I know,” he sighed.

“Just tag me in it — and put ‘Oscar-worthy performance’ in the caption.”

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[fairy-angel222]

𝐒𝐈𝐗 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 ft Gojo Satoru

— Six years. He’s loved you for six years. He was too young back then but now he’s not. And he plans on showing you that.

᧔♡᧓ Semi Yandere! Gojo x Fem! Reader

᧔♡᧓ Content: age gap (gojo’s 21 n reader is 27), obsessive behavior, smut, pussy eating, porn with some plot, cheating while in talking stage, petnames, praise, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, gaslighting

᧔♡᧓ A/n: reader always saw gojo as a brother since he was so young, and never really developed feelings for him. it was just lust taking over when they fucked

Six years of friendship with your current best friend. Six years in which her little brother Gojo has had a crush on you. Six years of you only cooing with a giggle as you ruffled his fluffy white head of hair before calling his doting nature cute.

Six years.

Six years that he’s waited for you, becoming more of a man for you. Working out, gaining experience. It was all for you.

You’re twenty seven now, barely any different since the first time he met you. Your soft features still as beautiful as ever and your body just as perfect as he remembered. He’s studied you over the years. Every single time you came over. Studied your patterns, your every move, your likes, your dislikes, he’d even gotten to know your type.

He’d loved you since he was fifteen.

But he’s not a little kid anymore. He’s grown. Twenty one years old. Mature enough to be yours, to take care of you. He deserved you after waiting for so long. And he would show you. Show you that you needed him just as bad, craved him as much as he craved you. He’s the one for you, you just had to open your eyes and see that.

Gojo knows you feel at least a slight bit of attraction towards him. Hell, you’d called him handsome so many times— even though it had been strictly platonic— that you have to had felt something.. right?

On his eighteenth birthday you were there with him, his friends and his sister. He’d even brought a girl, introducing her as his girlfriend to try for a reaction out of you. But you didn’t bat an eye, you were genuinely happy for him. It made his jaw clench, but he was reminded of why he loved you. You were so sweet and caring. A big smile on your face as you embraced him in a hug, giving him the present that you’d been so excited to get. It was something that he had wanted for a while. A part of you saw him and his sister as the siblings you’d never had.

He didn’t need your gift, of course. He had enough money to buy anything he wanted. But it being from you made it special.. so so very special. Especially since you had listened to him. And it was his turn to return the favor. The random expensive gifts never stopped, every time you came over for the next three years it seemed that there was always something wrapped and waiting for you. Somethings just never change, you thought to yourself, piecing together that the boy’s crush had never left.

Then his gifts started getting more and more.. well, whatever you’d consider those matching lace sets that were accompanied a little note that made you swallow hard. Followed up by short dresses and eventually fancy shoes and purses to match. Not to mention the collection of jewelry you’d gotten from him.

Then he was.. less subtle, sending small smirks and winks your way. Finding any excuse just to be next to you or let his hands innocently wander during a hug.

You were not going to tell his sister. You didn’t want there to be any problems between them. You also couldn’t just start coming over less, she was like family to you. So you let his harmless crush continue.

…

Gojo swears luck was on his side, the universe wanting to make things easier for him. You had a boyfriend, a guy you worked with who was a good five years older than you. Like he said, you had a type, and he checked out none of these boxes. He knew everything about the dude, and he knew that he was not good enough for you. He tried to warn you, but what did you do? You smiled at what you took as him being worried about your well being.

So when you came knocking on his front door, flinging yourself into his sister’s arms as you cried into her shoulder. He knew. That asshole had broken your heart. He’d deal with it. He’d truly make the guy regret hurting you.

You were at his house all week, falling into the stage of the break up where you sat in your room (with their house so big you were bound to have one if your own) watching tv with a tub of ice cream and a string of adorable laughter. Anything to take your mind off the sting in your chest.

Then you were out. Everywhere. Going to clubs and parties with his sister just as you two did when you were a little younger. It was reckless, what if you got hurt? What is someone tried something? You were a sight for sore eyes after all. He would make sure to never let that happen. It was why he always accompanied you, whether you were aware of it or not. It was no surprise that you were never able to get laid, despite all the ogling eyes set on you.

…

Gojo leaned against the bathroom’s door frame as you emptied your stomach’s contents into the toilet in front of you. Small moans of displeasure filling the room as your body slumped against it. After math of a night full of drinking.

His arms were folded across his chest, muscles bulging through the tight black fabric which was paired with grey sweats which hung lowly on his hips. Gojo chuckled, pushing himself to stand straight before walking over to you. Stooping down to your current height with the shake of his head. “You should know better than this baby.”

Your brows furrowed, opening your mouth to question him before your head was over the bowl once more. Tears welling in your eyes at the massive headache that had sprung to life. “Shh shh shh baby.” He whispered, “let it all out, you’ll feel better soon.” He soothed, pushing stray strands away from your sweaty forehead while stroking softly at your hair. Whispering little words of encouragement as he held you, smiling sadly when the hug caused you to break down in his arms. No doubt reminding you of your recent breakup.

“Here, i brought you some panadol.” He reached for the two pills and the cup of water on the counter. Letting you sit with your back against his chest as he guided them up to your mouth, bringing the cup to your lips right after. “Here, drink it all okay?” You nodded, swallowing down the water along with the pain relievers. Gojo’s lips pressing softly to your head as he continued to stroke your skin.

You’d fallen asleep. And he’d laid you down on his bed instead of yours. Tucking you in and leaving you to rest.

Downstairs he found his sister, an empty cup sat in front of her along with the pill bottle. She’d clearly been hungover too. “Where is she?”

Gojo gave her a knowing look. “She’s sleeping.”

“Where?”

“My room.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing, not liking the way she was watching him. Was she really that selfish over her best friend.

“Satoru.. she’s twenty seven. You need to get over this stupid little crush of yours and go find someone your own age. She doesn’t want you, she never will.”

Gojo seethed, fists already at his side as he stared angrily at his sister. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Satoru come on-“

“No.” His voice was firm, he didn’t look angry anymore, he looked hurt. “Just.. shut up, please.” A part of him knew that maybe he’d just never be enough for you.

…

Making his way back upstairs Gojo had a plate of pancakes, bacon and eggs along with a glass of hot tea. He walked into his room to find your eyes only just fluttering open with the small stretch of your body. Blinking your eyes to adjust to the bright light while taking in your surroundings, realizing immediately where you were, and who was standing at the door.

“Oh.. Satoru, hi.” Your voice was timid, embarrassed to have been seen in your drunken state by the boy.

“Hey, how’s your head? I brought you breakfast.” He set the food down near the bed before taking a seat next to you. Allowing his fingers to play with the fallen hair from your bun.

“T-thanks.” You nodded, shifting to sit up before grabbing a strip of the crispy meat.

He wouldn’t stop staring at you, couldn’t stop staring at you. And you smiled in his direction, “thanks a lot, i should really get back to my room though.”

He shrugged, “or you could just stay, it’s not like we’re doing anything.” He grinned. “Yet.”

You couldn’t help the way your cheeks heated up at that statement. “It’s okay, i think i’ll just-“

“Stay. Come on, don’t be like that. I’ll even put on your favorite.” Reaching for the remote to search for your favorite show. You bit your lip nervously, not understanding how he could act so normal after all the inappropriate gifts and advances.

His smile never faltered as his hand ‘accidentally’ found yours, slipping his fingers into your own. Not allowing you to let go even if you tried.

…

The next few days were.. good. Gojo had assumed that everything was going well. They were going well, until you decided to ruin everything.

Toji Fushiguro.

A forty something year old man with two children. That’s who you were talking to. Gojo didn’t appreciate how hard you making things for him. You were supposed to be his and he was supposed to be yours.

He was tired of waiting for you to come to him, so he went to you. Knocking on your door with vigor and a small scowl. When the door swung open you were mid-laugh, Toji coming into view behind you with a glass of champagne in hand.

“Seriously? You’ve been ignoring us for him? Him?” Gojo accused pointedly, “My sister misses you, she’s been crying. A lot. Says you’re choosing a guy over your friendship.”

His jaw was hard as he fed you lies through his teeth. Watching your eyes widen as you pondered. Were you ignoring your best friend? You’d seen her just earlier today. You guys had hung out, gone for lunch. Talked about who you both liked with big smiles and non stop giggles. It didn’t feel like anything had changed. “I.. I didn’t realize- i’m sorry.” You didn’t know what to say, it made zero sense. But why would he lie?

Gojo silently cheered as you sadly asked Toji to leave. Giving him a small kiss on the cheek and promising to call him tomorrow. He was not very happy about the last part, but at least he was alone with you.

As soon as he left Gojo marched into your apartment. Nearly falling over his two feet when the scent hit him. Your scent, stronger than ever, that sweet strawberry smell that he’d grown to love.

“Satoru, i didn’t-”

He couldn’t help himself, he really couldn’t. “It’s okay I forgive you.” Turning around for his hand to snake to the back of your neck, heart rate speeding up as he crashed his lips onto yours.

You whimpered in surprise, Gojo controlling the kiss as he backed you up against a wall. His lips quickly traveling down to your neck in desperation. “You know, i’ve waited so long. So fucking long. Waited for you. For us. I’ve given you everything, i’ve done everything. But it’s just never enough is it? You’re just too ungrateful huh baby?”

You moaned loudly. “Satoru.. what are you.. hmm.”

“I’m taking what’s mine baby. Taking what i deserve. I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. I can take care of you.” His lips moved with force, sucking harshly at your skin as he kissed down your chest, free hand roaming to your ass with a squeeze. “I’m old enough to be yours. This isn’t just some crush anymore. I fucking love you.”

You could feel your heart pounding as he uttered the words you wished he hadn’t. “Satoru we can’t.. your sister’s my best friend. I’m still older than you.”

“She’ll get over it.” He breathed, making quick work of your tank top that clung deliciously to your tits. “We’re both consenting adults now aren’t we. If you tell me to stop, i’ll stop.”

Your mouth went dry, lips parting to demand him to go but you couldn’t. You didn’t want him too. What was wrong with you?

“So what will it be baby? Stop? Or don’t stop?”

“Don’t stop..” You mumbled in shame, avoiding his eyes as you looked away. Gojo’s fingers dug into your cheeks, forcing you to turn back to face him.

“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, don’t stop.” You said a little louder, cheeks burning up under his touch.

“Good girl. I knew you were playing hard to get.” He grinned, “You love the chase as much as i do.”

Gojo’s arms hooked under your thighs, lifting you onto him before reattaching your lips. Carrying you to your bedroom to drop you onto the sheets. Lips never leaving yours as you both hurriedly undressed. He was addicted to you, and having you set fire to his veins. This was all he’d ever wanted.

Gojo dropped to his knees before you, kissing lightly at your pussy before enclosing it with his mouth. Tongue lapping you up hungrily as you moaned, fingers finding his hair with a tremble.

“Satoru— feels so good, haah.” You breathed, Gojo burying his face between your legs with a tight grip on your thighs. Allowing your legs to wrap around his neck as he devoured your sopping heat. You were so sweet— just like everything else about you. And he couldn’t help but rut against nothing as more blood rushed to his cock. Finding pleasure in getting to taste you after years of jerking off to the image.

He’s seen your room more than you, always snatching a pair of anything he could find. Just to be able to hold you in any way or form. Feel you on his skin. Touch something that had already touched you.

Gojo pulled away with his face glistening, “Learned how to do this just for you baby. Wanted to be good for our first time.” He smiled lazily, eyes dark with need as he got back to work, sending muffled groans into your bundle of nerves while you mewled loudly. Back arching with the curl of your toes before trying to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Gojo growled lowly, fingers digging painlessly into your flesh as he pulled you impossibly closer, tongue flicking at your clit before his lips closed around it. Sucking and swirling the sensitive bud into his mouth with a satisfied hum. All while you cried out above him, moans getting louder each time you called out his name.

It was like music. The sweetest song ever. Hearing you moan for him, moan out of pleasure, need, lust. Knowing that it was him making you feel so good. He almost came right there, determined to give you the best orgasm of your life with just his tongue. You tugged at his strands, your vision blurred in the nearing of your high.

“Satoru— o-oh fuck Satoru, ‘m gonna cum. Nngh, you’re gonna make me cum.” You moaned noisily, lewd slurps and sloppily kisses filling your ears as he made out with your wet pussy.

Gojo loved how much you were squirming, your legs tightening around his neck as you screamed. You actually screamed. He made you scream. His tongue was awaiting when you began to shake, toes curled and eyes rolled back as you squirted nonstop. The clear liquid gushing onto his face and tongue in long streams.

You whined at the overstimulation when he licked a stripe up your pussy. Collecting every last bit of your sweetness before standing up. You were panting, hard. And Gojo felt accomplished as he smirked. “Has any older man ever made you cum this hard baby?”

Your head was dizzy, trying to bring yourself back down to earth as you blinked up at him with the shake of your head.

He scoffed in pride, “Now try telling me that i’m too young for you now.”

Gojo was quick to lay you flat on the bed and crawl in on top of you. Consequences of your latest activities still fresh on his chin and chest. There were so many positions he wanted to take you in, but first he wanted to see you fall apart under him. See your face contort into one of pure bliss when he started pounding into you.

“You ready for me?” He husked, impressive cock already swiping up and down your slick filled folds. You nodded, looking up at him through your lashes with parted lips. “Ready.”

You both shared a drawn out moan when he nestled his cock past your tight entrance. Feeling him graze your gummy walls before reaching deep within you.

You felt so good, so tight.. warm. And he felt so deep, so big.. perfect.

“This pussy was made for me.” He grunted with a loud groan, slowly speeding up his pace till he was fucking into you with no end. Hips snapping into yours as his cock kissed your spot, prodding at your cervix with every hard thrust. “Fuck- look at how well you’re taking me. Fucking swallowing me all the way in.”

You only moaned in response, teary eyes meeting his sinful ones as he molded you around his cock. Making sure that you knew nothing but the shape of him, the feel of him, when you were done.

Letting out the whiniest cry, your arms reached up around his shoulders, clawing at his skin when you felt your stomach tighten.

You could feel him so deep, the roll of his hips allowing his fat tip to curl up and kiss exactly where you needed it most. The fast pace pulling short screams past your swollen lips.

“Satoru— haah, you’re so deep. I love it s’ much Toru. So m-much— ahh.” You couldn’t think straight, your brain only registering the way he was sliding in and out of you. It was all you could think about in that moment l, the way he felt.

Gojo watched you fall apart, just like he wanted. Your glossy eyes closing as your head fell further into the pillow, unable to control your noises as you got closer and closer.

“You don’t know how hot you look right now. I love seeing you like this. All for me.” His voice cracked, cock twitching in an aching cry to get its release.

“S-satoru, ‘m so close. Gonna cum again.” You choked out, nails piercing into his broad back as your hands roamed down.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess f’ me again hmm? All that denying me, making me feel like our love was one sided. You put me through a lot you know.” He shook his head. “If only you knew the lengths i’d go for you.”

His eyes were crazed, and a shiver raked through your body at his words, whimpering as you succumbed to the building pleasure with a mewl. “O-oh fuckk.”

“Nuh uh, baby. Apologize to me first then you cum.” His tone was firm, serious. He wanted to hear you say it.

“Ahh, ‘m sorry Satoru— ‘m so so sorry. You’re goid enough f’ me. Mature enough. You’re perfect. Please let me cum. I need to cum.” You cried, the man on top of you pretending to ponder your words which went straight to his cock before smiling darkly. “Go ahead baby, cum for me.”

Your body shook as you yelled out his name, your surroundings becoming blank when you began to squirt messily, again. The intense orgasm seeming to stun all of your body’s systems as you failed to come back down. Gojo’s continued thrusts keeping pleasure flowing through your sensitive body.

“I love you so much baby. I always did. It makes me so happy that we can finally be together. Fuckk— ‘m all yours. All yours.” He buried his face in your neck, his own eyes closing shut as his body trembled, stilling inside your warmth before you felt his cum pumping into you in spurts. The thick substance coating your every wall in white.

“And now you’re mine.” He didn’t pull out, staying buried inside you in hopes of you two being connected forever. There was one thing he knew and you forgot. You hadn’t taken your birth control in a while, and a part of him hoped that you had seen this coming. That you wanted it. But one thing remained true either way, he was never letting you go.

[faramirsonofgondor]

AU where some new villain made a truth serum formula and captures Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin. This villain somehow knows they’ve all been Robin at one point and decides to use the truth serum to try and drive a wedge between them all so that they stop working together. He starts with Robin, asking him who he thinks was the best Robin (Nightwing), who he thinks is the worst (Red Robin) and why he thinks that (Red Robin is annoying and arrogant). He does the same with Red Robin and Red Hood and gets varying answers that, while somewhat mean, are not enough to break the dynamic between them. Then he gets to Nightwing, who claims (truthfully) that he doesn’t have a favorite or least favorite Robin. The villain is displeased with this so they start to come up different questions to try and start an argument between the boys.

Eventually the villain asks “Which Robin is closest to the original? Closest to your Robin? Which one reminds you the most of yourself?”. Dick tries to fight the serum for a while, before finally biting out “The fourth one.” They all turn to look at Damian, and the villain scrunches up his brows, asking “Him? Really?” It was somewhat of a rhetorical question but Dick is forced to answer anyways. “No, not him. He’s the fifth Robin.” It takes a second before it clicks into place. “The girl Robin? Seriously?? I heard she didn’t even last a week!” Before anything else can be said, Batman busts into the villain’s lair and manages to take him down.

When they get back to the cave, the boys try to question Dick about it, slightly offended by the fact that he considered Stephanie’s Robin to be the most accurate to his. Dick, however, manages to evade them until the serum wears off. Dick himself isn’t quite sure how he can explain it to them. He’s not sure how to tell them that while he’s proud of all the work they’ve done as Robin, he never shared their reasoning for becoming Robin. He’s not sure how to point out the fact that the main reason they got into the vigilante game was for Bruce, not for themselves. He’s not sure how to explain that Robin might’ve been given to them for them to find light and happiness in, but that initially Robin was born from his darkness.

He’s not sure how to tell them that when Bruce told him about Steph, about Spoiler, about how she designed her own suit and went out to stop the man she has a vendetta against, he was so violently reminded of himself that he hung up immediately and didn’t speak to anyone for two days. He’s not sure how to tell them that when Bruce came calling a little while later, telling him about Steph being in-over her head, about him firing her, about her going off on her own only to end up tortured and dead, it was like staring in a mirror of his own relationship with Bruce, and that he’d punched Bruce so hard he’d nearly broken a finger. He’s not sure how to tell them about the quiet nights he stayed up talking with Steph, when Bruce was lost in time and it was just her, Damian, and Alfred around. He’s not sure how to tell them about how when Steph had told him about her relationship with Dean, he’d been reminded of his relationship with Liu so much he’d nearly thrown up. He’s not sure how to tell them that when Dick had opened up about his guilt about what happened in Blüd, Steph hadn’t given him any false placations, and talked about the guilt she felt over her role in the gang wars instead.

He’s not sure how to tell them that while all of them have felt like failures to Bruce, none of them had felt the harsh sting of Bruce ripping Robin away from them, the pain of Bruce telling them how incompetent and unworthy they were as Bruce fires them. He’s not sure how to tell them that while he may their older brother, he was only ever Bruce’s ward. Bruce never adopted him, and despite how far they’ve all come to work as a family, Dick still feels like an outsider sometimes. He knows Steph gets it. She feels like an outsider too.

[chimerafeathers]

i really love how intensely Mirabelle reacts to act 5 Siffrin botched friendquest.

Isabeau is mostly operating out of concern and, eventually, hurt. he already knows something’s up before Siffrin gets to him. he knows something truly awful must be wrong for Siffrin to be lashing out like they are, and as soon as he can’t handle the situation anymore, he leaves and asks (with strained cheer) for time apart to cool off.

most of Bonnie’s anger comes from being upset and afraid that Siffrin would willingly put themself in danger for no reason, when that’s exactly why they’ve been so unsettled since the eye incident. they hate that Siffrin values their own life so little, they hate that they’re the cause of any pain or loss for him, and here he is, putting himself in that situation AGAIN. on purpose. it’s loud and explosive, but it’s familiar, too, being “hated” by Bonnie for this reason.

Odile pushes, and keeps pushing, until her concern overwhelms Siffrin and they strike where they know she’s most vulnerable. she gets physical, just for a moment, grabbing his collar before controlling herself and letting go. her fury shuts down into cold detachment, and she walks away.

but Mirabelle—dear, sweet, gentle, loving Mirabelle, “the most wonderful being on earth,” with her secret “ruthless side” that largely involves lightly badmouthing people behind their backs and then apologizing—slaps them. immediately.

and then COMPLETELY RENOUNCES THEIR FRIENDSHIP.

not just “we’re not friends anymore,” but “we were never friends in the first place.”

that’s!!! pretty extreme!!!!

of course, she ALSO starts by asking what’s wrong. something must have happened for him to act like this. but as soon as Siffrin brushes her off, she jumps past that line of questioning and dives headfirst into re-evaluating everything she thought she knew about them as a a person.

if he could say something like that to her and not see anything wrong with it, then she was wrong to treat him as a friend, wrong to read camaraderie into his teasing, wrong to think they must care about them all under their aloof demeanor.

that’s how Mirabelle phrases it—“I was wrong about you”—but i think that there’s a hidden layer of I was right about you, too.

she talks about the way they tease her like she had to convince herself that he was doing it in a friendly way. she says they talk like they “know better than her” like that’s a thought she’s had for a LONG time.

“Always soooo mysterious, Siffrin, always talking as if you're better than me! As if you know me!!! But you don't, Siffrin!!! You're just as lost and useless as I am!!! So stop!!! Talking!!! As if you know me!!!!!!”

none of this comes across as a new, sudden way to view Siffrin for her. it doesn’t shock or confuse her. it makes her angry, defensive, almost like she was waiting for something like this to happen at some point. the feeling of resentment, frustration, jealousy, being patronized and condescended to—this is something she’s been actively pushing down and rejecting this entire time, but they’ve given her ample reason for it all to boil to the surface. violently.

Mirabelle’s kindness is not inherent or easy. it’s a choice she’s making. she treats Siffrin warmly because she gives him the benefit of the doubt—refusing to act based on anxiety-fueled, cynical speculation, and reassuring herself that his actions are driven by care and friendship even if she can’t quite see it.

“I was wrong about you” doesn’t mean she always and without question believed them to be a fundamentally kind, caring person from the beginning—it’s that her first, colder instincts were right, and she was wrong to convince herself otherwise.

never mind that she asked what was wrong at first. she barely gives them time to speak in their own defense, to explain what they really meant by what they said. all of her suppressed doubts and frustrations are getting aired out now, now that all the trust she’d so deliberately placed in him has been betrayed. her pain feels bigger than this singular moment, so when she hurts him back, she makes sure it extends back through the entirety of their relationship for him, too.

“You're awful. You're not my friend, not my ally, not anything. You never were.”

like the others, she goes back to the clocktower and tells Siffrin not to come back until later. but there’s a finality to the way she ends this confrontation that isn’t quite there with the others. Isabeau and Odile reach their breaking point and remove themselves from the situation, asking for space to cool off but still somewhat leaving the door open for Siffrin to tell them what’s really going on at some point. Mirabelle is the only one who tries to fully cut ties—after everything else she says, her “I don’t want to see you until tonight” reads to me somewhat as “I don’t want to see you anymore unless I have to.”

I can’t wait to never see you again.

even back at the clocktower, Mirabelle doesn’t really defend Siffrin’s place in the party when Odile suggests leaving them behind out of concern for their trustworthiness on the most important day of the journey. Isabeau and Bonnie protest out of sentimentality and faith in Siffrin’s abilities and connection to them, and Mirabelle agrees, but…

“I agree, but... B-But would he even agree to come with us, still? Maybe they won't even come back tonight...”

she doesn’t say much outside of that. maybe the stutter and hesitation here are signs of regret about how things happened, but she lacks Isabeau and Bonnie’s confidence that Siffrin even wants to come back to them in the first place. she doesn’t trust that their bond was real anymore. maybe it never was in the first place, or maybe she broke whatever was there herself.

and she’s still mad when they finally catch up to Siffrin at the King! and she makes sure Siffrin knows that—after saving them, assuring him that he no longer needs to fight, that they’re all there for him. she still cares, of course she still cares—she’s still hurt, too, but they can figure that part out once there’s less world-ending stuff going on.

she’s the first to say that they all reserve the right to still be angry at Siffrin later—and that they’ve already forgiven him.

she’s also the first to say we want to stay with you, too. it’s not just you.

she was wrong! she thought they didn’t care but they care so much, it’s overwhelming, it’s world-ending.

i think she’s gonna be wallowing in guilt post-canon the moment she remembers what she said and did TO SIFFRIN and not just what Siffrin said to her. especially now that she knows Siffrin’s exact hangups, and especially especially if she figures out what Siffrin was trying to say.

they put themself through hell out of loneliness and fear that none of the others cared about him the way he cared about them, he was going insane from repetition and exhaustion and hunger and trying to keep them all safe and together, and all they did in the midst of all that was say something kind of mean to her one time (that turned out to not even be MEANT to be mean it was supposed to be HELPFUL they just SAID IT ALL WRONG) and she SLAPPED THEM? and told him that they WEREN’T FRIENDS AT ALL??? how could she!!! she should have known better!! what they said hurt a lot but still!!!

so when they eventually manage to try to talk about it, they end up almost in, like, a guilt competition.

Mirabelle apologizing for how she reacted, that she shouldn’t have yelled or hit him, that she doesn’t want to be the kind of person who acts that way out of anger and she’s sorry that she made Siffrin expect that reaction from her, she should have known better and believed in him more and they only messed up like that because they were losing their mind in a time loop but what’s HER excuse—

and Siffrin going nononono stop I deserved it—(HUH DON’T SAY THAT NO YOU DIDN’T)—and that he should never have said such awful things to her, ever, and she was under so much pressure already with the weight of the country and everyone’s lives and futures and her religion and their whole party counting on her to do this impossible task because she’s the only one who can, all this unbearable expectation and hope crushing her, and they KNEW that but they thought they could skip to the ending as though her feelings didn’t matter at all, like helping her wasn’t as important as saving a little time—

until they’re just. in tears together, apologizing for all the horrible things they did in between complimenting each other’s strength and kindness and resilience and how much they admire each other and saying that no, everything you did was completely understandable, actually, the only one who sucks here is me. which neither of them will accept coming from the other!!

they’re so similar, in ways they couldn’t really understand, before.

warm, affectionate, perfect Mirabelle, the resolute hero, a beacon of compassion and hope for all those around her, who wears her heart on her sleeve, her fear making her courage shine all the brighter—nothing like the insignificant, forgettable Siffrin, too terrified to be known, too fragile to touch, too selfish and disgusting to bear letting go.

cool, mysterious, unflappable Siffrin, the worldly traveler, as charming and silly as they are confident and skilled, who brushed off losing an eye like it was nothing, accepting the risks of this journey with barely more than a shrug—nothing like the anxious, stagnant, undeserving Mirabelle, a fraud and a nobody crumbling under the weight of a mission too important to be entrusted to someone like her, doubting herself, doubting her friends, doubting her mentor, doubting her faith, too weak and brittle to bend and change the way the world needs her to without breaking.

not worth bothering others with their problems. they should be able to handle this alone. stay positive, stay calm. breathe in, and out.

they’ll struggle with it, still—the hiding, the minimizing—but now, they understand each other a little better. they can hold each other accountable for what they leave unsaid.

it’ll get easier, eventually. they have plenty of time.