#move signed extension

[plumsaffron]

If anyone knows how to do movsx movzx or know how to use ptr (byte, word, dword qword) pointer properly on cheat engine when doing an auto assemble code injection script or Array Of Byte Script, do let me know. Like I've been scrolling around youtube for tutorials on these situations and I've found nothing. No I don't want an x86 guide. I just want a video cheat engine that shows me how to deal with such specific situation.

[3416]

and this is why asking prices on some guys will be higher than everyone thinks, lol.

i've seen a lot of takes about what mitch's price will be and how it just cannot eclipse auston's at any cost and blah blah blah, but auston signed a short term deal on purpose bc he and judd know the cap's going up and he can get more down the line. if mitch wants to sign a long term deal right now, i don't think the leafs internal cap should be auston's current number whatsoever.... like that is a huge fucking jump for the cap even 2 years from now. anyway... mitch you can sign an extension now king <3

[sensnews]

Shane Pinto Re-Signs Following Mathieu Joseph Trade To Blues

Mathieu Joseph Traded to St. Louis BluesShane Pinto Signs 2-Year Contract Steve Staios took care of some more business today by making a couple of organizational moves. Shane Pinto re-signed on a two-year deal; however, the cap space was opened up by moving forward Mathieu Joseph to the St. Louis Blues. Mathieu Joseph Traded to St. Louis Blues View this post on Instagram A post shared by…

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Prefect Was Here

Synopsis: The VDC boys notice the ways in which The Prefect has left their mark.

Something Ace notices during his time staying in Ramshackle is the various out of place chairs and boxes in different rooms of the dorm. He first realized they were there because he would trip over them or stub his toe on their corners. He'd move the objects out of the way to prevent himself from injuring himself on them again, but the next day they'd be back in their spots. This little cycle of him stumbling over the objects, moving them, and then stumbling over them again the next day repeated for a while until one late evening when the pieces clicked. Ace was leaving his room to get a glass of water from the kitchen when he looked over the railing of the stairs to see you stood atop one of the particularly annoying chairs placed in the lounge. A chair he trips over almost every morning in his half-awake state placed right next to the fireplace. Watching you organize various photo albums on a shelf above the mantle, he finally understood. He stopped moving the objects that no longer seemed out of place after that. They were right where they belonged: next to tall shelves, high up windows, and the occasional rickety door you had to open by shimmying it open from the top.

You often lent Deuce your notes to copy for those class periods he just couldn't keep his eyes open: exhausted from a long night of studying. At first he didn't notice anything, too busy frantically taking notes. It wasn't until he was staying in Ramshackle and he no longer had to worry about getting your notebook to you before day's end when you'd head off to your dorm and he to his that he saw it. As he was studying your notes he saw a little doodle on the edge of the page. The doodle was of Grim stirring a cauldron while standing on a stool, his goggles falling off his head. As he continued through your notes he saw ones of Epel carving an apple, Rook shooting a bow, and Vil looking studying rehearsal footage. Flipping back through the book and starting from the beginning he noticed the doodles seemed to be telling the story of your time at NRC. Early in the book, before there were notes on classes, there were doodles of the dark mirror, Crowley, and Grim. About the time you were officially enrolled there were drawings of the great 7, Ace with a smug look on his face, and even Deuce summoning a cauldron. He's asking to borrow your notes again? You could have sworn he was awake all class period (he just wants to see any new doodles).

Kalim noticed the walls, or more specifically: what was on them. It wasn't the boarded-up holes that drew his attention, nor was it the dust that you never could seem to get rid of completely. What got Kalim's attention were the drawings. In the kitchen, in your room, and on various doors there were drawings taped to the wood. Some were colorful while other were monochrome. Big, small, detailed, simple; he loved all of them! In your room you had an entire wall covered in pieces of your art, many of said pieces being of your friends and your various adventures. Your door was basically an extension of that wall just with a prominent sign in the middle reading 'Prefect and Grim.' Grim's name seemed to be written in his own handwriting (pawwriting?) and at the bottom of the sign laid a pawprint and a handprint. The other doors that had signs were rooms like the bathroom, laundry room, and the rooms each of the boys stayed in. The first few signs were put there by yourself to help the guys more easily navigate the sometimes-confusing building while the ones on each of their doors was to make them feel like they too belonged there. The kitchen had various drawings or little doodles your friends made for you. No matter how simple or detailed the drawing, you had every single thing anyone had drawn for your here displayed on the wall. All but Grim's art. He had his own pedestal (the fridge) for that. Kalim made sure to make his fair share of contributions to your display wall.

Jamil was in charge of the kitchen during the VDC and found some things rather unusual from the moment he stepped foot in there. Nearly all of your upper shelves were completely empty and when he pulled out a drawer he assumed would be a utensil drawer all he found was towels. That would be fine on its own, but none of the drawers had utensils. The upper cabinets that did have things in them held cleaning supplies, items that are commonly agreed to go below the sink. Just when he thought he was going to have to go back to Scarabia to get any kitchenware, he checked the lower cabinets. That's where he found pots, pans, cups, plates, and any other kitchen item you'd need all organized nicely as if they weren't in the most bizarre of places. Just as he was about to resign to silently judging you for your dishware placement, Grim came up beside him and opened one of the lower cabinets to grab a cup before scampering over to a step ladder placed next to the counter so he could reach the faucet and fill his cup with water. After seeing that he supposed your placement of things made sense. And after much time cooking in your kitchen as well as having to bend down to grab items he also realized that you must be even kinder than he originally thought (or just plain stupid, but he's keeping that thought to himself).

Vil is a man of beauty. He believes in not only you as a person looking your best at all times but also making sure your surrounding look their best. He understood most of Ramshackle's 'quirks' were unfixable as things were, and you did seem to keep the place remarkably clean all things considered, but there was something that caught his scrutinous eye. Clothes hung up to dry in the laundry room and bathroom (it was too cold to dry them outside) splattered in paint and a door that had matching patterns. At one point he grew curious as to what could possibly possess a person to leave a door in such a state and decided to open it. He almost fainted when he saw inside. The walls, ceiling, floor, and any furniture unlucky enough to be in the room was covered in layers of paint. The only thing that seemed to be kept clean was the window with a view of the forest beside the dorm. He left that day deciding that how you kept that room didn't affect him. As long as your mess didn't encroach into his space he would leave you to your mayhem. However, something odd began to happen. On a day Vil felt especially stressed, he went to do his laundry. When he closed the washer door and turned it on he looked up to see a row of paint splattered clothes hung up to dry, and before he knew it he was opening the door to what he assumed to be your art studio. He closed the door gently behind him and simply stood there in the room as the evening sun cast warm rays of light in through the window. It was as he stood there that he realized just how comforting the room's atmosphere was. It was hectic with all the paint everywhere and yet calming and homely at the same time. Now whenever he got too stressed during the VDC he went to that room to simply take a moment to breathe and forget about the stresses of being perfect. To look around at the remnants of pieces you put your heart and soul in splattered across the walls: telling a story only you know but that anyone who takes the time to observe can feel. Now, he may even see your paint splattered clothes and face to be rather endearing (not that he'll admit it).

Ever the hunter of Beauty, Rook notices a lot of ways in which you leave your mark on this world. The stickers on the covers of your notebooks, the patched sewn a bit sloppily onto your clothes, and even the spots on your front doorstep that have been ever so slightly worn down from scraping off mud and/or snow every time you come inside are all glorious examples of how you make the world more beautiful by being here. However, he does have a favorite. Out of every way you show that you've been here in this world, that you existed, his favorite by far is yours and Grim's height charts lightly scratched into the wall in a corner of the kitchen in a nook between the fridge and the wall. You wouldn't see it unless you really looked, but as we all know, he looks. Seemingly etched into the wall with a fork, butterknife, or something of the sort as not to be erased or easily covered up by paint are two separate sets of dashes. One is low to the floor while the other is about where the top of your head would be were you to stand with your back to the wall. Each chart has initials below the lowest mark and each dash has a date next to it. However, what really gets Rook's heart soaring is the initials and how after the letter of each of your first names there is an R. Now, Rook knows Grim doesn't have a last name and that you haven't uttered a word about what yours is (whether it be because you forgot or just simply don't want to tell people). Overwhelmed with curiosity he hunts down the ghosts to ask them the meaning of the R to which they tell him it stands for Ramshackle. You and Grim saw each other as family and so you decided to unofficially create a last name to share. When you were unable to agree on a good one you suggested Ramshackle so as to always remember your roots in this world. Rook won't encroach on the memory by asking to put a height chart of his own next to the two of yours, but you do notice that suddenly any official paperwork you or Grim gets has 'Ramshackle' after your first names.

What Epel notices are the big tape Xs in various places within the dorm. On the stairs, on the a spot in the hallway on the 2nd floor, there're even parts of the banister wrapped in blue tape. At some point he gets curious and prods at the banister only for it to sway and nearly fall off. This catches his attention so he goes through the dorm looking for places with tape on them to see if his hypothesis was correct, and, wouldn't ya know it, it was. All the places with tape are areas that could be considered hazardous for one reason or another. At first he wonders if you were just really dumb and put tape there to try and fix it, but when he sees you avoiding the areas too he decided that's not it. Then the idea comes up that perhaps they're there for an inspector that's going to come to fix up ramshackle, but it becomes apparent that's not the case when you come back one evening: exhausted from trying to convince Crowley to do something about the water damage in the attic only to be shut down. It isn't until he sees you yank Kalim back by the collar of his shirt as he was about to step on one of the Xs that he realizes you put them there to keep people safe. Epel tried pulling up a piece of tape at one pint in his inspection to get a better idea of what was underneath it and for the life of him he couldn't get it unstuck. At least he know for sure that it will stay there for generations to come acting as a kind reminder to anyone else who ventures into the dorm to avoid those areas and keep themselves safe.

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[stellamarielu]

Stellaaaaaaaaa…. That new pic has killed me!

Jack Abbot in glasses and he’s all shy and embarrassed about it in front of his younger girlfriend bc he didn’t used to need glasses, it’s a sign he’s getting older and it reminds him of the age gap…

But his embarrassment doesn’t last long when she forces him to keep them on and watch her worship his old man cock and balls with her pretty young mouth

Ok I’m getting carried away, time to crawl back into my gutter!

IM SICK. Him laying next to you in bed…. with his glasses at the tip of his nose… yeahhh

Tossing and turning because you can’t sleep. Twisting over in bed to see Jack sitting up next to you, his back against the headboard with glasses at the end of his nose, silently reading in the dim light of the bedroom.

He could hear you rustling, eyes gazing to his right to find your face smushed against your pillow with heavy lids, watching him intently.

His glasses came off in one quick sweep.

Folding the arms of his readers one at a time, before swiftly placing them on his bedside table.

You'd seen him wear them before, mostly at night when he read, or sometimes he’d bring them out to look at something you were showing him on your phone, griping because “the font is so small, who the hell can even read that?”

He made it a point not to keep his glasses on for extensive periods of time when you were around. He made a joke once that they were his "old man glasses" and you wondered if Jack abbot— the confident and headstrong emergency department attending— maybe had a slight insecurity when it came to his age, especially in comparison with yours.

"Can't sleep?" His voice was low with a gentle scratch as he dog eared a page of his book before allowing it to rest on his lap.

You shook your head from side to side against the fluff of your pillow.

"Can't get comfy." The words were hollowed out by a sleepy rasp as you threw him your best over-exaggerated frown.

"Can I help?" It was a genuine inquiry, but the smirk on his lips gave away his true intentions. His hand slid across the sheets, finding your waist underneath the covers. But, before it could trail any further, you sat up slightly.

"That depends..." You began to respond with a smug grin of your own, leaning up on your elbow, reaching across his body to grab the glasses from his bedside table.

"you wanna put these back on?"

His eyes were glued to the readers in your hand, just sitting in your grasp as you held them out in front of him.

"My glasses?" There was a subtle laugh in his words as his brows knit together in confusion.

He didn't take them from your hand, just stared at them in amusement and disbelief.

You sat up further, taking the book from his lap and tossing it to the end of the bed, your body replacing its position as you straddled him, sitting back on his thighs.

"I like them." The tone of your voice was soft and slow as you took it upon yourself to place the readers back on the bridge of his nose.

"I think they're sexy."

"You're funny sweetheart." He was trying not to scoff as a shy grin stretched across his face, his head shaking subtly in disagreement.

"Don't believe me?" You shifted your weight, crawling down his body until your careful kisses found the skin just above the waistband of his boxers.

His hand moved, fingertips adjusting the glasses that were now sliding further down his nose as he watched you between his legs. You caught it out of the corner of your eye— his hand toying with his readers— and for a split second you thought he might take them off again.

"They stay on, or I stop." The threat sounded harmless as it purred into his lower abdomen, your fingers slowly pulling at his underwear.

He playfully raised his hands, surrendering to your command.

"Yes ma'am." He smiled as he spoke, but the sound of his voice was far raspier than it had been all night.

With hooded eyes hiding behind the black frames of his readers, he brought a hand down to tangle in your hair as you dragged his boxers down just enough to take the tip of his cock into your mouth.

His head fell back, thumping against the headboard, as he made a mental note to start wearing his glasses a little bit more.

Your head bobbed at his hips as you took him deeper toward your throat, causing a muffled groan to break free from his chest.

Okay, maybe a lot more.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere batfamily x neglected reader

In the cold, towering shadows of Wayne Manor, you existed as a flicker of something forgotten, something unseen. To the family, you were a presence, but never a person—a thing that was always there, never quite needed, but always expected to be. It was a strange kind of loneliness, one that settled deep within your bones. It wasn’t hate, not outright. But it was neglect, a neglect that twisted and shaped itself into something far more sinister.

Bruce, with all his focus on Gotham’s endless darkness, had never known how to be a father in the way you needed. He loved you, he cared for you in his own way, but it was a cold, distant love, one born out of obligation. He made sure you had everything you needed: food, clothes, shelter. But that was all it was. There was no warmth in his touch, no kindness in his words. Every time he passed by, his gaze barely brushed over you, and you would hold your breath, hoping for just a second of acknowledgment, a second of care that never came. But you learned quickly—Bruce didn’t have time to see you. His world was bigger than you, and in his eyes, you were just a small piece of the puzzle. You weren’t a person to be loved and cherished. You were a responsibility. A duty. He never once sat down with you to hear how your day went, or how you felt. If you wanted attention, you had to earn it. If you needed comfort, you had to wait for him to decide you were worthy of it.

Dick, who was always smiling, always so eager to please, had a different kind of neglect. He wasn’t cold like Bruce, but he wasn’t present either. Dick was always somewhere else, wrapped up in his own world. He’d sweep into the room with his wide grin, maybe a pat on the head, maybe a quick word here or there. But his affection never reached past the surface. It was the kind of love that only showed up when it was convenient, when it didn’t get in the way of his own life. He would hug you, but it was quick, fleeting, as though his attention was already elsewhere. Sometimes you would stand there for minutes, waiting for him to notice you, to actually see you, but the longer you waited, the more you realized it wasn’t going to happen. Dick wasn’t truly there, not in the way you needed him to be. He never asked you how you were doing, never checked on you when you were quiet for too long. You weren’t worth his time unless it was easy, unless it was convenient. And as time passed, you learned that his love was always on his terms, and you were always left waiting for the moments that never came.

Tim, who was so intelligent and sharp, didn’t understand you at all. He looked at you like a problem to solve. There was no tenderness in his eyes, no softness in his voice when he spoke to you. His way of showing care was to ask you if you’d eaten, or if you were okay, but there was always a sense that he was doing it out of routine rather than genuine concern. If you showed signs of needing more than the bare minimum, he’d get frustrated, annoyed even, as if your needs were an inconvenience. You weren’t allowed to be a bother. You weren’t allowed to be human. Tim loved you, yes, but it was the love of someone who didn’t know how to love. He saw you as an extension of his world, not a person in your own right. Your silence was met with frustration, your sadness met with impatience. He didn’t have time to comfort you; he had cases to solve, problems to fix. You were a task to him, a thing to be checked off and moved on from.

Jason’s love was the most painful of all. It wasn’t outright cruel, but it was laced with a sharpness that cut deep. Jason would pull you close when you needed him the least, but when you needed him the most, he would turn away. His love came in flashes, in moments of brief connection that would burn brightly before fading into coldness. He wasn’t able to offer you the consistency you craved, the stability that your heart so desperately needed. When he did notice you, it was often in a sharp, harsh way—his anger spilling out, his guilt over his own brokenness feeding into his care for you, but it was a broken care. It was as if he wanted to protect you, but he couldn’t figure out how without making you feel like a burden. His love was suffocating, overbearing, because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. But that was his problem, wasn’t it? His love was for himself, his need to fix something broken, and not for you. He loved you with the intensity of a man trying to fix his own past mistakes, but never once did he pause to think if you needed that love, or if it was too much to carry.

Damian’s neglect came in the form of indifference. You didn’t exist in his world. His eyes would slide over you like you were nothing more than a fixture in the background. He had no patience for anything that wasn’t him, no time to stop and listen to your needs. When he did interact with you, it was always with an air of superiority. He would demand your attention, but when you needed his, he was too proud to offer it. His love wasn’t love at all—it was control. He wanted you to fit into his world, to mold yourself into his idea of what you should be. He never bothered to learn who you truly were, who you were beyond the title of "his sibling." To him, you were just an extension of his father's empire, not a person in your own right. His love came with expectations, and if you didn’t meet them, he would ignore you, push you further away. His neglect was harsh and unapologetic. It wasn’t even something he noticed, because in his eyes, he was right. And you were just supposed to be there.

Cassandra and Stephanie, who had seen pain in their own lives, understood loneliness, but they couldn’t reach you in the way you needed. Cassandra, though she understood the language of silence, was too quiet herself to break the walls you had built. She couldn’t reach into your soul the way you needed, couldn’t make you feel like you were more than just a shadow. Stephanie tried, she really did. She was always the bright one, the one who pulled you into her light, who tried to make you laugh, tried to be the friend you didn’t have. But it wasn’t enough. Her love was more like a mask, something to keep up appearances, something to show that she cared—but deep down, you knew it wasn’t the kind of love you needed. It was temporary. It was the kind of love that lasted only as long as it was convenient, and when the days became long, when the nights became cold, Stephanie’s love faded into the background like everything else.

Duke, the newest addition to the family, wanted to be the one to fix things, but he was just too late. He saw the cracks in the family, the way you were pushed aside, but he wasn’t strong enough to fight against the currents that had already shaped you into something else. His love was genuine, but it was too new, too fragile to make a difference in the sea of neglect that had already swallowed you whole. He wanted to protect you, wanted to be the person you could rely on, but he couldn’t find a way to break through the walls of hurt that had built themselves around you.

They all loved you, in their own way. But love, when it’s cold, distant, and inconsistent, becomes a weapon. Love, when it’s mixed with neglect, becomes emotional abuse. It isn’t always harsh or violent. It’s quiet, hidden in the silences, in the moments where your needs go unrecognized. It’s in the way they forget you, in the way they act as though your pain is just a passing inconvenience. It’s in the way they only notice you when it suits them, when they remember that you’re there, when it’s time to check off the box of “care.”

You weren’t hated. But you were forgotten. And in the shadows of Wayne Manor, where the world’s greatest heroes lived, that silence was the loudest thing you could ever hear.

[princess35azzi]

The Hard Launch of "My Current Girlfriend"

Hi All- this is my first fic ever so please be kind and patient! I did not even edit it so all mistakes are mine and I am so sorry.

I kept seeing those "My current boyfriend/husband" videos on tiktok and kept thinking about how fun it would be for Azzi to play that prank on Paige.

Hope you enjoy it!

------

For years, fans and the world around them have speculated about their relationship. Heated debates under their Tiktoks, their friends' lives, their instagram dumps. Always keeping track of every little move.

Azzi Fudd and Paige Bueckers were suspiciously close—closer than most best friends, some insisted. Even now, with hundreds of miles between them every day off you could count on Paige being wherever Azzi's world tour had taken her. And you could always count on running into Azzi in Dallas on her days off.

Then there were their social media soft launches. Something they joked about constantly. Paige always around the edges of Azzi's posts. Sometimes Paige caught checking Azzi out in a mirror selfie, sometimes Paige asleep on Azzi's shoulder on a plane, sometimes Azzi wearing Paige's hoodie in Paige's bathroom.

Azzi's dumps were always a little chaotic. Always sending fans into spirals.

One photo would be her post-game stat. The next? Paige's softly smiling at her across a table lit by a candlelight. Another? A group dinner with Paige's hand in Azzi's lap, barely visible, their pinkies linked under the table.

"IS THE PRIVATE IN THE ROOM WITH US?"

"Yooo how many more soft launches until we get that hard launch?!?"

"IS THAT PAIGE'S HAND ON HER THIGH?????? OMGGG the pinkies plsssss 🥹"

"WE GET IT BUT CAN PAIGE FIGHT?????"

Paige loved it. She knew Azzi was very private about her life. For her social media had become an extension of her professional life. Paige loved to see her have a little fun with their relationship. It also make her giddy to think Azzi could not help but share how happy she was in their relationship.

"baby, lowkey," Paige had said one night while Azzi's head lay in her chest and she played with her curls. "You're the worst at the game of private."

Azzi grinned, eyes shinning and dimples showing. "I don't say anything. I just let the pictures speak."

Still, never a confirmation. No public hand-holding, no public kissing, no captions that said more than "💗", "my shooter", "😍".

But there were many signs.

A favorite was the latest addition to Azzi's favorite heart shaped necklace— a delicate pendant of the number 5. Paige had gifted it to her the night she formally asked her to sit on her table at her WNBA Draft Night. They both knew Azzi would be there, but the asking out loud was a quiet confirmation that they were both ready to take the next step. They knew people would speculate and write discussions posts about what it all meant. But for Paige and Azzi it was just another moment of them showing up for one another and living their love in the safety or their bubble. Always private, but never secret.

And now here they were with Paige visiting Storrs for a weekend. They were getting ready to go out to Ted's with the team. Paige was sitting on Azzi's bed waiting for her to finish getting ready.

Azzi angled her phone for a TikTok. She wore a black crop top and black cargos, her hair up in a bun with a couple of curls framing her face, gold hoops on her ears. Paige, in the background, was lazily adjusting her vintage hoodie, halfway paying attention.

Azzi pressed play and started filming.

"Hi everyone," she said casually, dimples pointing at the camera. "Today my current girlfriend and I are going to do a little fit check."

Azzi's eyes carefully watched for her girlfriend's reaction in the back.

There was a beat of silence. She could see the wheels turning in Paige's head. In the reflection of the mirror, she could see Paige frozen.

Azzi smiled and kept talking like nothing happened. "She is wearing a thrifted hoodie I found, my old UConn tee, and jeans."

Paige slowly turned, her face caught between shock, pure offense, and existential crisis.

"uh-huh not allat...repeat that please? whatchu mean your 'current girlfriend'" Paige said giving her the air quotes with her fingers and a bewildered look. Before Azzi could answer Paige continued, "Current girlfriend???? I am sorry, did we break up and I didn't get the memo??"

Azzi could not help but giggle. Turning to her, dimples in full force like she hadn't just casually dropped a bomb.

"Oh, but you are my girlfriend right now? Baby, that makes you my current girlfriend" she said, feigning innocence.

"Yes, I caught that," Paige said, stepping closer and holding her by her hips and she rested her head on the crook of her neck. Eyebrows furrowed and pout in full display. "You just hard-launch our relationship on Tiktok and implied you have a full roster."

Azzi laughed, tucking a loose curl behind her ear and turning to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Relax. You are my only girlfriend. Current is just a true statement and it sounds cute and lowkey...unbothered you might say."

Paige, did not smile. She narrowed her eyes and stared at her in the reflection of the mirror. "It sounds like you've got a backup."

"No. no, baby. You are everything. My starter and my bench." Azzi teased. "You are the roster. All-star. MVP."

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "You are lucky I am madly in love with you."

"I know," Azzi said sweetly. "What are you going to do about it? Kiss me on camera to confirm you are the one woman roster in my lif-?"

Before she could get the word out Paige's lips where on her only interrupted by the soft laugh coming out of Azzi's mouth.

The next morning Azzi is laying on Paige's chest enjoy the warmth of her body while Paige plays with her fingers. Paige raises her hand and kisses her ring finger with a lazy smile spreading a cross her face followed by, "I can't wait to be your current wife."

It is in that moment that Azzi decides that video is not staying in her drafts.

The comments start to come immediately:

"EVERYONE WILL REMEMBER WHERE THEY WERE DURING THE PAZZI HARDLAUNCH"

"WAIT. WHAT.WAIT. DID AZZI JUST CALL HER HER GRIELFRIEND?

"not us finally getting a hardlaunch after years of waiting and it was a drive-by"

"PAIGE'S FACE OMG AZZI FIX IT KISS HER RIGHT NOW. I COULD FEEL THE HEART BREAK!"

"Paige is never recovering from being called 'current'"

"AZZI BETTER ADD HER TO YOUR DUMP WITH A "FOREVER" IN THE CAPTION OR WE RIOT"

They read and laugh about them all morning. Azzi liking a couple of them. Until she sees the one Paige left on her post:

"pov: you didnt know if you were being hard-launched or soft-dumped 🥺"

Azzi does fix it that night by posting another dump.

(Slide 1) A mirror selfie in her apartment. Azzin in her sweats, Paige behind her in a hoodie, one arm slung casually around Azzi's waist. The pendant with the number 5 visible. Eyes on each other.

(Slide 2)

A shot of their iced coffee cups on a cafe table. Azzi's name spelled right, Paige's cup says "Azzis Forever Girl" (in Azzi's handwriting.)

(Slide 3)

A close-up of the pendant necklace on Azzi's collarbone, the "5" in the corner of her collarbone with Paige's finger resting lightly right under it in the shot.

(Slide 4)

A grainy polaroid held up by Azzi's finger next to Paige's soft smile of Paige asleep on her shoulder during a movie night.

(Slide 5)

A picture of Paige and her family at the dinner table. Paige hold Azzi's pinky on top of the table.

(Slide 6)

A picture of Paige's soft smile as she stands at the baggage claim area with a bouquet of flowers in hand and strawberry and nutella snack on the other.

(Slide 7)

A picture of Azzi sleeping on Paige's lap with Paige hand caressing her cheek.

(Slide 8)

A picture of two paper rings. And Paige's soft look and timid smile blurred behind them.

(Slide 9)

A picture of Paige's latest visit to Storrs. A group photo of the team around Paige. Azzi sitting on her lap with her arms around her neck. Cheeks pressed together and Paige's arms lazily around her lower hips.

(Slide 10)

Paige asleep in her bed wearing her old hoodie sleepily reaching for her hand.

The caption is simple: "ft. forever 💗 "

the top comments make her grin.

"Ft. forever" is INSANE WORK AZZI."

"Paige currently fighting for her life trying to stay nonchalant final boss"

[mickyschumacher]

[MEANS I CARE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: isack is entirely confused why his best friend is avoiding him. or in which you realised you're in love with your best friend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: childhood friends to lovers, mostly angst, bits of fluff, a reader with dismissive avoidant attachment, reader struggles with her emotions, initial anger from confrontational!isack but overall caring!isack, cute love confession at the end! // poorly proof read as usual

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: isack hadjar x bsf!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.2k

𝐀/𝐍: poured a bit of myself into this one! it's hard to tell from my writing, but i struggle with expressing my emotions and telling people i care for them. i've heard it's quite common for older sisters to have avoidant attachment issues so... i guess i check the box ◡̈ anyway, this one might be a tad bit dramatic but lmk what you think! ♡︎ // also miss mcrae's album has a lot of avoidant attachment!!

🏎️ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | ⚽️𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You and Isack were opposites in every sense that mattered.

Where one would claim he was too expressive, you couldn't bring yourself to show you cared.

Where he was indecisive, you held all rationality.

And where he trusted freely, you locked yourself up.

But nevertheless, you had been childhood friends since he moved next door to you. Neither of you had a problem with the way you both acted. It was sort of like give and take: where you lacked, he made up for it and vice versa.

It never really mattered. At least that's what you thought anyways.

This year was different from every other. There would be no other like it. Because Isack was debuting as a Formula One driver. His life long dream. And you couldn't be anymore proud.

You didn't outright say it–you couldn't. You remember smiling when he told you and saying congratulations before Isack simply rolled his eyes and pulled you into a hug.

You remembered him thanking you when you pulled away, stomach churning at the lengthy hug. You were confused. Eyebrows furrowed, you asked why.

"For believing in me," he said with the most beautiful smile and the warmest brown eyes holding your own.

That was the defining moment... the moment you realised you were in love with your best friend.

There were signs. There were always signs.

Your extensive care for him and only him. The constant worry every time he went out on track. The small skip in your heart beat when he'd return home with your favourite ice cream. Your slight amusement when you'd pretend to be cross with him and he'd think you were being serious. The little trinkets he'd bring back from every race to put on the shelves in your bedroom. Or the way he lowered the volume of the TV before you'd even ask him to because he knew you didn't like it.

They were always there. But the line between best friends and whatever... it was so similar... so blurry. How could you've ever known?

But that day... it was like a bucket of cold water had been thrown over your head and reality had finally been opened to you.

You loved Isack. Not liked. Not admired. Not fancied. Loved. And you had been for years.

God it scared you. It terrified you.

People never said it to you but you knew how you were.

When you invested too much of yourself into one thing, you stopped it only moments later. You didn't want to stick around to see if something would be good. It was the assumption it would hurt. So if you could dismiss it before it even had the chance to... that's the only way you could ever relax.

You never understood how people did it. How you could give so much of yourself away. What happened when it all inevitably failed? Why wouldn't you protect yourself first? Why did you have to deal with the mess of emotions?

Loving Isack... it meant showing the most vulnerable sides of yourself. And it's not that he didn't know you. He was your best friend, of course he knew you. But that made it worse.

In your years of friendship, you had cried twice in front of him. And you hated it every single second of it. That he could see you break down. That you weren't the strong friend he normally relied on.

Loving Isack was going to fail.

You knew it.

You knew it when he crashed in the formation lap on Australia and it felt like a part of you had been ripped and torn into pieces when you saw him cry on the screens.

You knew it when he came to you, thought to be out of tears, but almost on his knees, hands immediately wrapping around you for a hug, asking you why this had happened to him and you couldn't do anything but apologise to him and tell him he'd come back stronger while you cried so silently.

When his parents thanked you for being there for Isack... fuck, you knew it would all backfire.

So you slowly stopped. Like you always did.

Fewer texts. Fewer jokes. More lies. Forcing yourself to do something–anything–else but care too much.

You hated it. You hated that it was bringing you some calm despite your body screaming at you.

It was getting difficult to keep it up. How many more times would you blamed it on the time zones? As if you hadn't memorised them the moment they came out. As if you hadn't been doing this his entire career.

But the small break after the Saudi Grand Prix meant Isack was back home. After you had missed your usual good luck text.

You had forgotten actually. You were in your room, studying quietly, unaware anyone would be home as your workaholic parents were out like normal.

Consequently, the thumps up your staircase were loud, almost deafening. Your ears perked up as the door of your bedroom went wide open.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Isack's shrill voice echoed in your bedroom, chest heaving as he stood in front of you, arms firmly to his side.

You turned from your desk. You eyed his attire briefly. The hoodie and sweatpants, the bags under his eyes... he'd probably just come from the airport. The one where you'd usually be waiting for him. "Excuse me?" You asked, throat dry from not speaking in hours.

Isack blinked, swallowing. He took a step forward to you, eyes flickering over you rapidly to see if you were okay. "Is something wrong? A-Are you sick? Are you stressed? Tell me what's wrong so I can fix it."

You could feel it. The tear in your heart growing while annoyance boiled under your skin. He didn't need to fix you. That was your job.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," you sighed out, standing from your desk before you walked to your shelves. You chewed on your lip, nervously eyeing the trinkets Isack had brought you.

You needed this conversation to be over before it went somewhere else.

"Putain de merde," Isack swore, running a hand through his hair. He walked to you again. "Like hell you don't... you don't talk to me for a week and avoid my calls and you don't know what I’m talking about? Like I'm crazy?" He asked with a small scoff.

You sucked in a sharp breath, turning to face him. "I told you with the time diff–"

A loud groan interrupted your sentence. Isack breathed slowly, fingers pressed on his nose bridge. "I swear to fucking God, if you mention that stupid fucking time difference again, I will lose my mind."

You stayed quiet. You weren't sure what to say. You wanted to peel out of your skin, you were so uncomfortable. You hated confrontation. Isack knew you hated confrontation. And yet...

Isack sighed quietly. He stepped closer to you, holding your hands with his gently. "Please, ma moitié. Please tell me what's wrong. Did I do something? Why... why won't you talk to me?"

Your eyes burned at the crack in his voice. Fuck, this sucked. You hated yourself for feeling like this. It was like it was on the tip of your tongue but you could never get it out.

"I..." you said shakily, forcing yourself to remove your burning hands from his while you pretended like you didn't see the hurt flash in his eyes, "It's nothing. Nothing is wrong."

"So it is something. Something has been bothering you. Since last year... since I told you about my seat... something's been wrong. What is it? What happened?" Isack queried softly, brown eyes searching yours so deeply for an answer.

He noticed. Of course he did.

Shit.

"You know you can tell me anything."

But I can't! You wanted to scream it. You just couldn't tell him.

"Isack, please... just– you know how I am. I'll deal with it, hmm?" You said, trying to muster up a smile.

He stared at you quietly and you were scared he was seeing too much of you. The debate in his eyes... the way he chewed his lip... he also couldn't tell if he should say it.

"You want to cry," he stated, making your eyes widen. "I can see it in your eyes. The redness. Your red cheeks. You want to say something so just say it! I'm worried for you."

"Stop saying things like that." You let out an exasperated groan. You brushed past him, clambering into his shoulder. "I don't understand how you do it," you murmured angrily more to yourself than him.

The tears were freely flowing down your cheeks before you knew it. You glared hard at your desk, eyes hot as though it would stop you from crying.

You couldn't see it but Isack could feel his heart breaking at the sight of your figure shaking. You could feel him gently lay his hand over your shoulder. "It's okay to cry," he mumbled, "I wish you wouldn't hide it."

You felt sick. Like your stomach was churning. It felt like his hand was leaving an imprint on you, searing you. Exhaustion was clouding your body. Exhaustion that had built up over the course of the past few weeks.

"I can't do it like you, Isack. I can't show I care. It's so hard. It's like I have to constantly fight myself," you quietly said, unable to bear this any longer.

"Hey," Isack murmured, hand travelling to your face to turn you to him. His eyes softened at your wet cheeks. Wiping them with the pads of his thumbs, he held your chin with his thumb. "It's okay. You don't have to do anything like me. Take your time. Do what you want when you want."

You breathed quietly while you stared at your best friend. He was right. It wasn't as easy as he made it sound, but you were so tired of feeling like crap. You focused on his encouraging smile and opened your mouth.

"I... you were right. I was avoiding you," you admitted, eyes falling to the floor in embarrassment. You could feel he wanted to say something but he stayed quiet, waiting for you. "I was avoiding you because I care."

Isack furrowed his brows. "I don't understand."

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating how much you wanted to say... how much you could say. "Last year... when you told me you got your seat, you thanked me."

He nodded in agreement. "For believing in me. Because you always do," he murmured, his free hand rubbing your own softly, comforting you.

You smiled gently at his words before taking in a sharp intake of air. "It just made me think, well, realise that I'm in love with you. And I always have been," you breathed out, the weight slowly lifting off your shoulders.

You could see Isack's eyes slightly widen but you continued. "And that terrifies me, Isack. Because it means I care. I care a lot for you. And I'm scared that because I care, something will go wrong. I-I didn't mean to shut you out. It's not what I want. It's just all I know. So I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I'm dumping this on you when you don't feel the same way and–"

"Wait, wait, wait," Isack interjected, hands both reaching to hold your face gently. He held your eyes with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "Who's says I don't feel the same way?"

You mouth felt dry, heart speeding. "I... You do?"

Isack smiled, laughing softly as he nodded. "I thought it was obvious. That maybe you just didn't feel the same way."

He watched a dark expression fall on your face. You were in that same dreadful space you had just been in. "Hey, ma moitié, what's wrong?"

Your eyes fell to his once again. "What if I can't love you enough?"

It sounded strange but he knew what you meant. Even with all your care... what if you couldn't show you loved him enough? What if you couldn't express it?

"Not possible," Isack retorted, casually shrugging.

"But I–"

"I see it," Isack firmly told you, quietening you easily. "I see it when you're at my races and you stand on the side, letting me go to my parents first. I see you and your camera taking pictures of us when you think I don't. I see your heart. I see all of it."

You blinked, eyes burning all over again. For the first time in forever, you stepped forward, hugging him tightly. "Je t’aime, Isack.

His arms wrapped around yours, holding you closer to him. Isack smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Je t’aime, ma moitié."

"Did you bring me any souvenirs?" You mumbled against his shoulders, sniffling slightly.

You could feel his body rumble with a chuckle. "Depends. did you even watch my race or were you busy 'sleeping?'"

You pulled away, making a face, guilt still swirling within you. "I did watch it. You know I watch it even when I'm mad at you," you pouted.

Isack grinned. "Then of course I did."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[nekonaps0]

HII may I request jade, sebek, and silver specifically with an extension of super flirty reader? like when they get into a commited relationship and all that? idk i just want to see more of theirs 💔

Smooth talker

✦characters: Silver, Sebek, Jade

✦gn!reader, except sebek(fem!reader)

✦okaaay let’s seduce our boys 🫡

Jade Leech

You’re constantly teasing Jade. You’ll walk into the Mostro Lounge, lean on the counter with your chin in your hand, and purr,

“Jade~ You look way too good in that uniform. I’m tempted to spill something just to see you mop it up.”

He doesn’t flinch. Not even a twitch.

Instead, he looks over his glasses and replies smoothly,

“My, what a scandalous request. I could be persuaded… if you promise to clean me up afterward.”

Jade is the only one who matches you beat for beat.

Where others would get flustered, he gives it right back and somehow hotter.

It becomes a game between you two, a dance of innuendos, smirks, and sly remarks that border on foreplay.

And he loves it.

He adores that you’re fearless. That you challenge him. That your words drip with confidence and affection, even when you tease.

But there are moments, rare and precious, where he sees the softness beneath. Like when you fall asleep on his chest. Or when you grab his hand under the table and whisper,

“You really make me happy, you know?”

In those moments, Jade’s smile softens. His fingers curl around yours.

“You're more dangerous than I ever anticipated,” he murmurs. “But I’ll gladly let you ensnare me.”

Silver

Silver is the most peaceful target for your flirtation, and it shows.

You’ll catch him nodding off under a tree and whisper in his ear,

“Silver, wake up. You’re too pretty to be unconscious. I need my prince charming alive and his kisses.”

He jolts awake, blinking, and you just giggle and help him sit up.

You can see the subtle signs, the tips of his ears going pink, the way he clears his throat, the gentle smile he can’t suppress.

“You have a dangerous way with words,” he says quietly.

But he doesn’t ask you to stop.

He likes it.

You come in loud, warm, and relentless, telling him he’s beautiful, strong, noble. That his sleepy voice turns you to mush. That he could kiss you right now and you’d faint in his arms like a storybook heroine. You say these things so easily. So playfully.

But sometimes, you’ll stop him, cup his face, and look him right in the eye.

“I know I tease you a lot, Silver. But I want you to know… I mean every word.”

And that?

That makes him fall for you harder than ever.

He cups your hand in his and leans his forehead to yours.

“…Then I’ll cherish every single one.”

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is a disaster with a super flirty girlfriend.

You’re always catching him off-guard.

He’s standing in Diasomnia’s courtyard, talking about knightly training when you come up behind him and slide your arms around his waist. You rest your cheek on his back and murmur

“How am I supposed to focus when my boyfriend looks like a walking fantasy?”

He practically jumps out of his skin.

“W-WHAT—ARE YOU PURPOSEFULLY TRYING TO EMBARRASS ME IN FRONT OF LORD MALLEUS?!”

You just grin and kiss his cheek. “Would it help if I did it behind him instead?”

Sebek doesn’t know whether to die of shame or carry you around like the goddess you are. (He’s leaning toward both.)

He’s so easy to tease, it’s almost unfair.

But the best part? He takes it seriously.

Every compliment you give, no matter how ridiculous, is stored like treasure in the depths of his soul.

He’ll be thinking about you calling him “your dashing knight” for weeks.

And the second someone flirts with you or looks your way? Oh, he’s on guard.

“She is taken. Her affections belong to me. Move along unless you wish to lose your teeth.”

Your flirtiness flusters him, yes, but he also starts to see it for what it is: your way of loving. Your boldness. Your bravery. Your heart on display.

When you press a kiss to his cheek after training and whisper, “You could protect me so well,” Sebek looks like his brain’s melting, but his chest swells with pride.

“I-I live to serve and protect Lord Malleus… and of course you as well!” he says stiffly, eyes wide.

You grin. “Yeah? Then I better give you something worth protecting.”

..............................................................................................................................

[importantpuppystarfish]

Punishment for disobedience by Hanni

Managers x Hanni

Warning: BDSM, very hardcore & rough, humiliation, degrading, triple penetration, bruises, destroying the body, whipping, sadism, metal rods, total mess, gangbang, anal, treatment like a slave.

Note: please this is all just a fantasy for reading and stuff, this can be uncomfortable to read so if ur weak hearted or a fluff enjoyer, typically do not read.

Hanni stood at the heart of a lively fan event, her long dark hair framing her delicate features as she forced a faint smile, her right hand raised in a peace sign for the cameras capturing her move. She wore a light green satin dress over a white long-sleeve shirt, paired with black sneakers, her youthful and polished appearance captivating the crowd of adoring fans, her growing fame as an idol under HYPE, one of the most powerful agencies in K-pop industry.

At 18, Hanni had already endured intimate stuff and coercive history with her 8 managers, who had subjected her to sexual encounters since her trainee days, a practice that, while normalized in this universe’s industry, had left her deeply scarred.

As She had grown up, she had seen this as an unavoidable part of her rise to fame, but the cumulative trauma had finally driven her to take a stand—she had reported the managers to a court, hoping to expose their sexual activity with her and break free from their control. She also planned to leave the agency.

Unbeknownst to her, the managers had just received word of her legal action through their extensive network of industry connections.

Today there was a fan meeting of Newjeans. Hanni was there, wearing the same outfit in the picture..

The manager's rage was a palpable force as they watched her interact with fans, their eyes burning with a fury that promised a brutal reckoning. Hanni felt their gazes on her, a shiver running down her spine, but she maintained her idol persona, her smile a fragile mask hiding the terror that had consumed her since filing the court case, her mind racing with the fear of what they might do if they found out what she said in the court.

As the fan event concluded, the 1st manager, a 50-year-old with a commanding presence and a reputation for ruthlessness, approached Hanni, his face a mask of professional calm that barely concealed the storm brewing beneath. “You did well today, Hanni,” he said, his voice low and laced with venom, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that made her stomach churn.

“But we heard about your little stunt in court. You think you can betray HYPE and get away with it?” Hanni’s heart pounded, her fingers trembling as she clutched the edge of her dress, her voice quivering with fear as she tried to explain. “I… I just wanted it to stop,” she said, a little amount of tears welling in her eyes, her voice barely audible over the lingering chatter of departing fans. “I didn’t mean to betray anyone… I just couldn’t take it anymore… the things you’ve done to me…” The 1st manager’s eyes narrowed, his tone icy as he stepped closer, his presence looming over her. “You’ve made a big mistake,” he snapped, his voice a low growl. “HYPE owns you, Hanni. You’re our slave, and tonight, we’re going to teach you a lesson you’ll never forget. You’ll wish you’d never stepped foot in that courtroom.”

Hanni’s stomach twisted with dread, her mind racing with memories of the sexual encounters she’d endured at their hands—encounters that had started as coerced “bonding” sessions but had grown increasingly violent over time, leaving her body and spirit scarred. She knew their anger would lead to something far worse than anything she’d experienced before, but HYPE’s influence was absolute, and her attempt to seek justice had only tightened the chains that bound her to her managers. She tried to run.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moment the fans had dispersed, and she tried to escape, the managers’ demeanor shifted from professional to predatory, their rage boiling over as they grabbed Hanni, their grips on her arms bruising as they dragged her out of the venue and into a waiting black van parked in a secluded alley.

Inside the vehicle, the 2nd manager, a 47-year-old with a sadistic glint in his eyes, immediately backhanded her across the face, the force of the blow splitting her lip and sending her crashing against the van’s interior wall, her head spinning as blood dripped down her chin. “You thought you could betray HYPE?” he roared, his voice filled with venom as he punched her in the stomach, making her double over, gasping for air.

The 4th manager, a 46-year-old with a brutal streak, joined in, grabbing her hair and slamming her face against the van’s window, the impact bruising her cheek and causing her to cry out in pain. The 5th manager, a 42-year-old with a penchant for violence, tore at her clothes with his hands, ripping her light green satin dress and white long-sleeve shirt to shreds, the fabric tearing with a sickening sound as Hanni’s cute screams (AHHHhhh) filled the van, her body exposed in her underwear as the managers continued their assault. The managers smelled her underwear, it seems it was already wet, it smell good. The 6th manager, a 45-year-old with a cruel smirk, forced his mouth onto hers, kissing her with a brutal intensity that bruised her already swollen lips, his teeth biting down hard enough to draw more blood, his tongue invading her mouth as she gagged, her cries muffled by the violent kiss.

“You’ll learn to keep your mouth shut,” he growled against her lips, his voice dripping with malice as he punched her in the ribs, the crack of bone audible as Hanni sobbed, her body trembling from the relentless beating in the confined space of the van, the journey to the hotel a prelude to the horrors that awaited her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Upon arriving at a private penthouse suite in a luxury hotel, the managers dragged Hanni inside, her torn clothes hanging off her in tatters, her body already bruised from the beatings in the van.

The suite was dimly lit, a large bed dominating the center of the room, surrounded by a table laden with sinister tools: a bullwhip, belts with heavy buckles, some knifes, a cattle prod, a basin of water, a small branding iron with the HYPE logo, multiple metal rods of varying sizes, a spiked dildo, and a metal gag for oral torture.

A mirror was positioned to reflect the bed, amplifying the sense of exposure and dread that consumed Hanni as she was thrown onto the floor, the door locking with a heavy click behind them.

Her breath caught in her throat as the 1st manager stepped forward, his voice a chilling growl that echoed in the oppressive silence. “You thought you could go to court and expose us?” he began, his tone seething with anger, his fists clenching at his sides.

“You’re nothing but our slave, Hanni, and tonight, we’re going to break you for your betrayal. You’ll never think of defying HYPE again.” Hanni’s eyes filled with tears, her voice trembling as she pleaded, her body shaking uncontrollably, blood dripping from her split lip. “I’m so sorry… I just wanted it to stop… please, don’t do this! I’ll drop the case, I swear!”

But her words were met with a cruel laugh from the 2nd manager, his fingers caressing the bullwhip with a twisted fondness. “You’ve crossed a line,” he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. “You’re going to wish you’d never opened your mouth in that courtroom.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It began with a ferocity that left Hanni reeling, the managers’ rage over her court action fueling their power to unprecedented levels.

The 2nd manager smashed the bullwhip with savage force, striking her back, each lash splitting her skin, drawing bruises, the sound of the whip cracking against her flesh mingling with her screams of agony.

She stumbled forward, her hands reaching to shield herself, but the 4th manager grabbed her arms and held her in place, his grip like iron as the lashes continued, her back becoming a mess of welts and open wounds.

“You think you can betray HYPE?” the 2nd manager roared, delivering another lash that left a deep welt across her lower back which left a high amount of huge open wounds in her back.

“You’re nothing, Hanni! You’ll pay for this!” Hanni sobbed hysterically, her body trembling as she gasped, “I’m sorry… please, stop… I’ll drop the case!” The 1st manager watched with a cold smile, his voice cutting through her cries like a blade. “It’s too late for that. Keep going—forty lashes. Make her bleed for her betrayal.”

The whipping continued, each strike tearing into her flesh, her cries echoing through the suite as the managers unleashed their fury.

The punishment escalated as the 4th manager released her arms, only to deliver a series of brutal punches to her stomach and ribs, his fists slamming into her with such force that she doubled over, gasping for air, her body wracked with pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 5th manager joined in, landing a vicious punch to her face, splitting her already swollen lip further and causing a very little small amount of blood to gush down her chin, her head snapping back from the impact, her cheek swelling instantly. “You thought you could ruin us?” the 5th manager snarled, his voice filled with rage as he grabbed her hair and punched her again, this time in the jaw, the crack of bone audible as Hanni cried out, her face a mess of bruises and saliva coming out from her mouth .

The 6th manager kicked her legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the floor, where he and the 7th manager, a 41-year-old, began beating her with their fists and feet, targeting her face, stomach, thighs, and arms, leaving bruises and welts on every inch of her exposed skin.

“This is what happens when you betray HYPE!” the 7th manager shouted, his voice a mix of anger and sadistic glee as he stomped on her stomach, making her retch from the pain, her body curling into a fetal position as she begged, “Please… stop… I can’t take it…”

But the 1st manager’s voice was unyielding. “You’ll take everything we give you,” he said coldly. “You’re our slave, and you’ll learn your place.”

This took darker turns as the managers focused on Hanni’s mouth, their rage manifesting in a brutal assault on her oral cavity, determined to punish her for speaking out in court.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 3rd manager grabbed a metal gag from the table, forcing it into Hanni’s mouth and securing it tightly, the rod stretching her jaw painfully wide, her muffled cries filling the room as drool and some blood began to drip down her chin, her lips already swollen and bleeding from the earlier punches and forced kissing in the van.

“Let’s destroy her mouth for talking to the court,” the 3rd manager sneered, his voice filled with malice as he motioned to the 2nd manager, who stepped forward with a sadistic grin.

The 2nd manager forced his dick into Hanni’s mouth, the metal gag preventing her from closing her jaw as he thrust deep into her throat, the deepthroat causing her to gag violently, her eyes watering as she struggled to breathe, her throat burning from the punishment.

“Choke on it, you little traitor,” the 2nd manager growled, his hands gripping her hair as he thrust harder, the tip of his dick hitting the back of her throat with brutal force, her gag reflex triggering repeatedly as she retched, vomits and saliva mixing as her throat was ravaged.

The 5th manager joined in, forcing his dick into her mouth alongside the 2nd manager’s, the two of them stretching her mouth to its limits, her lips splitting further from the strain, vomits gushing as they fucked her throat with no regard for her suffering.

“Look at her mouth—ruined for HYPE,” the 5th manager laughed, his voice cruel as he thrust deeper, making Hanni choke and gag, her face turning red from lack of air. The 6th manager grabbed a small whip, using it to lash the sides of her face as they deepthroated her, the strikes leaving red welts on her cheeks, her muffled screams vibrating against their dicks as they continued their punishment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 8th manager then took another thin metal rod, and forced it into her mouth, the metal searing her tongue and the inside of her cheeks, her muffled screams intensifying as the heat blistered her oral cavity, her mouth destroyed by the relentless fucking, beating, and deep throat fucks, lots of vomits and saliva pooling on the floor beneath her.

Looks like the punishment escalated further as the managers turned their attention to Hanni’s body, their sadism reaching new heights.

The 4th manager stepped forward with a belt, the metal buckle glinting ominously, striking Hanni’s stomach and thighs with the buckle, the sharp edges cutting into her skin, leaving jagged marks and deep bruises, her body jerking with each blow as she lay on the floor, still gagged and choking from the deepthroat assault. The 8th started fucking her, searing pain making her scream "AAAA noooo" through the gag, the sound muffled but piercing as the smell of her body filled the room, her body convulsing as the beatings left a permanent scar, marking her as HYPE’s property.

“You’ll always belong to HYPE,” the 8th manager said, his voice devoid of empathy. “You’ll never escape us now.” Hanni’s muffled screams turned to whimpers, her mind reeling from the pain as she gasped through the gag, “Mmmph… mmmph… I’ll die.. Please i'm sorry, I,'ll tell the court I lied…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But the 1st manager’s response was merciless. “You’ll take it all, Hanni,” he said coldly. “You’re our toy to break for what you did.”

Hanni’s cries were incoherent through the gag, her body limp as the pain overwhelmed her.

The punishment took a darker, more sexual turn as the managers removed the gag, leaving Hanni’s mouth raw, blistered from the deepthroat and metal rod, her lips swollen and torn, her throat so damaged that she could barely speak.

They forced her onto the bed, positioning her on her hands and knees.

Now, they tied her up in the bed. Her wrists and ankles tied to the bedposts with rough ropes that cut into her skin, leaving her spread-eagled and vulnerable, her bruised and weak trembling as she begged for mercy, her voice barely a whisper through her destroyed mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Let’s show her what happens to traitors who betray HYPE,” the 1st manager said, his voice dripping with malice. The 2nd, 3rd, and 4th managers positioned themselves at her lower end, their intentions clear as they prepared for triple penetration in her vagina. Hanni’s eyes widened in terror, her voice a desperate plea through her ruined mouth. “Please, no… I can’t… it’s too much…” But her cries were ignored as the three managers forced themselves into her pussy simultaneously, the sheer size and force of the three dicks tearing her apart, her vagina stretched beyond its limits, she started to pee as she could not control.. Her urine went mixing with the dicks in the triple penetration, mixing with her cries as they thrust brutally, their movements synchronized to maximize her pain. Hanni screamed in agony, her body convulsing as the pain ripped through her, the triple penetration a new level of torment compared to the sexual encounters she’d endured in the past, her vagina is destroyer profusely as they fucked her more deep.

“Take it, you little whore,” the 2nd manager growled, his voice filled with sadistic pleasure. “This is what you get for going to court!”

Simultaneously, the 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th managers focused on her asshole, their punishment reaching new heights as they forced four dicks into her anus at once, which is not logically or scientifically possible, but they managed to do it, gaping her asshole off to human limits, the sheer volume and force causing excruciating pain as her asshole was stretched beyond capacity, the pain far worse than anything she’d experienced in their previous encounters.

Hanni’s screams turned to guttural wails, her body shaking violently as the four managers thrust into her shithole with no regard for her, their anger at her betrayal driving their brutality, their dicks filling her anus completely, the pressure causing her anal walls to tear, feces seeping out as her asshole was destroyed. “Look at her shithole stretch,” the 5th manager laughed, his voice cruel. “She thought she could betray HYPE? Let’s destroy her!” The 7th manager added, “Keep going—let’s see how much she can take before it breaks.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The relentless fucking tore her anal walls further, the pain so intense that Hanni’s vision blurred, her mind fracturing under the assault, the four dicks in her asshole creating a scene of unimaginable part, her body unable to cope with the sheer volume and force. The pressure and damage caused her bowels to release, her feces leaking out onto the bed, mixing with the fluids as the managers continued their punishment for Hanni, their laughter filling the room. “Disgusting little traitor,” the 8th manager sneered, thrusting harder. “Your shithole is ours to ruin.”

This continues as her asshole intensified as the 6th manager grabbed a large, spiked dildo from the table, its surface covered in sharp protrusions designed to inflict maximum pain, and forced it into Hanni’s already destroyed shithole, the spikes tearing into her anal walls as he thrust it in and out.. Hanni screamed the loudest in agony, her voice hoarse from the earlier deepthroat. “Feel that, you little bitch?” the 6th manager taunted, his voice filled with sadistic glee. “This is what happens when you betray HYPE.”

The 7th manager then took a metal rod, heating it over a flame until it glowed red-hot, and forced it into her anus alongside the spiked dildo, the burning metal searing her anal walls, causing Hanni to scream louder than ever, her body convulsing as the pain seared through her, the heat blistering her insides as more liquids poured out from her anus which left gaping and unusable.

The 5th manager grabbed another heated metal rod, forcing it into her vagina, the burning metal searing her vaginal walls, the pain so intense that Hanni’s screams turned to incoherent wails, her body shaking uncontrollably as the heat blistered her insides, the penetrations and burning rod creating a scene of unimaginable sadism, her vagina and anus both destroyed by the relentless fuckings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The 7th manager dragged Hanni’s head to the edge of the bed, positioning her so that her head hung off the side, her mouth forced open as he and the 8th manager took turns deepthroating her again, their dicks thrusting into her throat.. They took 3 large dildos and tried to insert it on her mouth too.. two dicks and 3 dildos stretching her mouth to its limits, her lips tearing further, vomits and saliva mixing with the burns as they fucked her throat, her gag reflex triggering repeatedly as she choked, her face turning more red from lack of air. “Look at her mouth—completely ruined,” the 7th manager laughed, his voice cruel as he thrust deeper, making Hanni choke and gag, her destroyed mouth.

The scene is still the same, Hanni on her hands and knees, tied to the bedposts, her body a mess of her body waste, bruises, and burns. Three managers—the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th—were at her lower end, their dicks triple-penetrating her vagina, then after that they insert a heated metal rod forced in, burning her vaginal walls and again taking it out as they thrust brutally, her pussy torn.

Similarly Four managers—the 5th, 6th, 7th, and 8th—were at her anus, their four dicks filling her shithole, a spiked dildo and another heated metal rod forced in as well after, tearing and burning her anal walls, liquids and feces leaking out as her anus was destroyed.

The 7th and 8th managers were also at her head, their dicks deepthroating her alongside the 3 dildos burning her mouth and throat as they fucked her face, her lips torn and blistered, vomits and saliva gushing as her mouth was ruined, the mirror reflecting the scene of 8 men destroying her body in every way possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally to end it, the 7th manager dragged Hanni to the toilet.. There was a bathtub of water, they took her there, tying her hands behind her back, her swollen lips and destroyed mouth trembling as she begged for mercy through her ruined oral cavity.

He forced her face onto the bathtub full of water, poured more water over it, waterboarding her until she choked and gasped, her body thrashing in panic, the water mixing with her destroyed mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Feel that, Hanni?” the 7th manager taunted, pouring more water as she struggled to breathe. “This is what happens when you betray HYPE. You’re nothing—just a toy for us to destroy.”

Hanni’s voice was a desperate wheeze as she begged, “I can’t… breathe… please…” The 5th manager, still recording, laughed coldly. “Keep going. I want to capture her breaking completely.” The waterboarding left Hanni trembling, her mind fractured by the terror of near-drowning, her body soaked and shivering as the managers moved on to the next torment. Hanni was feeling like she was getting drowned in a river.

The managers then pissed onto the water bathtub, further more degrading Hanni as they forced her face inside the water more, letting her drink the water mixed with their piss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The final layer of torment was psychological, designed to shatter Hanni’s mind as thoroughly as her body. The managers forced her to face the mirror, making her watch as they continued their acts, her reflection of the image of her in waste, burns, bruises, blood, a destroyed mouth, and a ruined gapped anus . The 5th manager played back the recorded footage on a screen, forcing her to relive her screams and cries, his voice mocking as he spoke, the camera zooming in on her swollen lips and blistered mouth. “Say it, Hanni,” he demanded, his tone cruel. “Say you’re a worthless slave who deserves this for betraying HYPE.”

Hanni’s voice was a broken whisper through her destroyed mouth as she repeated, “I’m… a worthless slave… I deserve this… for betraying HYPE…” The 4th manager laughed, his voice dripping with contempt. “That’s right. You’re nothing without us. You’ll never forget this night.” They took turns degrading her, calling her vile names and forcing her to beg for more pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hours later, the punishment finally ended, leaving Hanni a broken shell on the floor of the suite, her body a canvas of unimaginable horror—deep welts and lacerations from the whip, jagged cuts and bruises from the belt buckles, punches, and beatings, a branded HYPE logo on her hip, the word “HYPE” carved into her thigh, burns from the electric shocks and heated metal rods, a destroyed mouth with swollen, and blistered lips and a throat raw from deepthroating and burning, a vagina torn and burned from the triple penetration and metal rod, and a ruined anus that gaped open, from the four dicks, spiked dildo, and burning rod. Her body was a testament, every inch of her marked by their cruelty. She was barely conscious, her mind shattered by the psychological torment, her voice reduced to faint whimpers as she muttered through her ruined mouth, “I’ll be good… I’ll do anything…”

The 1st manager is satisfied. “She’s done,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion. “We’ve broken her completely. She’ll never betray HYPE again.”

the 2nd manager smirked, putting the whip away. “She was fun to break. Too bad she’s such a mess now—hope she can still perform.”

The 5th manager stopped the recording, his voice smug. “This footage will keep her in check. If she ever tries to go to court again, we’ll release it. She’s ours forever now.”

The 7th manager glanced at Hanni’s broken form, his tone indifferent. “Get her cleaned up enough to move. We can’t have her like this on us yet—she’s got more events to do for HYPE.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The managers called in a private doctor loyal to HYPE, who patched Hanni up —cleaning her wounds, bandaging the worst cuts, stitching her torn lips, and giving her painkillers to dull the agony, though her destroyed anus, vagina, and mouth were left untreated, the damage too severe for immediate repair. They did care about her long-term recovery but as for now, they only needed her for her next scheduled appearance, her value to HYPE tied to her ability to perform, even in her broken state.

They dressed her in a long-sleeved outfit to cover the marks, applied heavy makeup to hide the bruises and swelling on her face, and told her to act normal at her next event, using the recorded footage as leverage, the images of her destroyed mouth, body, and leaking anus a constant threat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days later, Hanni was forced to attend a small fan signing session, ofcourse she was not able to walk.. Haerin, Daniellie, Hyein are confused why Hanni was acting weird.

her body still in agony, her wounds fresh and some infected, her anus, vagina, and mouth so damaged that she could barely sit or speak. She was heavily medicated with painkillers and sedatives, her movements slow and her expression vacant, but she gave a weak smile for the fans, her hands trembling as she signed autographs, her swollen lips making her speech slurred and barely intelligible.

A fan approached, her voice bright with excitement. “Hanni, you’re my favorite! You looked so happy at the last event—I love your peace sign pose!” Hanni’s voice was monotone as she replied, her words barely audible through her ruined mouth, “Thank you… I’m glad you liked it…” Her mind flashed back to the punishes, her body aching beneath the makeup and long sleeves, the pain in her destroyed shithole, pussy, and mouth a constant reminder of her punishment. The 1st manager stood nearby, his voice a harsh whisper. “Keep smiling, Hanni. Don’t let them see what a mess you are. You know what happens if you betray HYPE again.” Hanni nodded slightly, her voice barely audible through her swollen, blistered lips. “Yes, sir… I’ll be good…”

[beeboopneep]

Danny moves to Gotham after spending his whole life in Amity Park. He becomes the King of the Infinite Realms and flees to Gotham after his parents find out he's a ghost.

And it starts out great. He enrolls in Gotham University, moves into his campus apartment, signs up for the extensive benefits the local billionaire supports for GU students, and volunteers on the weekends. He even feeds the strays!

It's great! Actually, even better than great: Clockwork teaches him more about his ghost side while he's there and can safely explore it without the risk of getting caught and vivisected. He can work on powers he barely knows he has... and that includes shapeshifting.

And shapeshifting is easier to start with smaller body parts. Like ears.

Like cat ears.

So he gives that a go and, well, if he decides he likes them and keeps them longer than the supposed training time then that's his business.

He spends his first semester of his aerospace engineering major enjoying his freedom for the first time. No food trying to bit him back, no threat of death around every corner. He makes friends and drinks for the first time. He explores the nightlife and learns to not, in fact, explore Gotham nightlife. He realizes he may not be as bad at school as he thought, and then he actually starts to believe it.

At the end of the first semester he's a well-known face around campus. He's tall, ethereally beautiful, and a STEM prodigy with multiple professors practically begging to mentor him.

And it doesn't hurt that four different people swear up and down to have seen cat ears in his hair when he bent over.

He's practically the talk of the town (not that he knows it).

But he does know that he starts to perfect the look: along with ears, he sharpens his fangs. He growls when he's annoyed and purrs when he's happy. Sometimes he plays into it even more, like slow blinking and keeping a healthy distance to any dogs.

One thing that's for sure, cats know whats up with that "laying in patches of sun" stuff. He started doing that and when he realized how nice it was he just couldn't stop. He can be seen all around campus laying in the sunlight when it's nice out (whenever that is. Gotham is overcast to it's core).

He lounges beautiful and stretched out and sleepy for everyone to see.

And... wouldn't you know, he starts to get an admirer.

Well, don't get him wrong, he's had more than enough of those, but this one stood out. He was... cute. Very cute.

A lit major who obviously worked out religiously, who hovered around the corners of Danny's life. He sees him around campus (obviously), looking a bit too long even for someone admiring his prettiness, and then a few times at the cafe Danny worked at, and then a few times more around town. More than a few. More than was reasonable, actually. Definitely not an accident.

A cute little stalker, Danny thought every time he saw him out of the corner of his eye. He suppresses the urge to laugh (or purr).

A very cute, not-so-little stalker.

Hm.

There were definitely worse things.

[getaapologist]

Flow Backwards to Me.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I know. Some people are gonna hate this. But there are some of us out there that can't handle this look. And Sam isn't the real name for the person the character is based on in the movie, so I'm using 'Sam' as just a made up person. I have seen the movie and this contains no spoilers. Timeline-wise, if I had to place it, it's before the movie.

Pairing: Sam [Warfare] x reader

Summary: Sam has orders. You two are a bit melancholy about it.

Warnings: 18+ only. Goodbye sex. That's all. A slight smattering of plot.

“Hey, eyes on me.” A strained whisper.

Rough fingers pressing at your cheek. 

A fever. Sweat, damp sheets below proof of the exertion. The effort spent to get here, right here.

Your eyes meet his and you’re plunged into their dark depths, his face, his torso lit by the muted tv, some show long abandoned. 

The harsh light flickers over his features, like he’s submerged beneath the surface, hints of light reaching these depths. Casting over the focused expression he wears, the cut of his musculature. The light similarly bathes you in blue, and he commits it to memory.

A technicolor sea.

You see a flicker of relief in him at the eye contact. His grip on your hip tightens. 

His discipline doesn’t leave him, even here. Lips parted. Steady, measured thrusts. Driving deep, almost too deep.

It’s normally quite subtle, but not now. Because things are bubbling just beneath the surface.

He leaves in the morning. Doesn’t know when he’ll be back. Doesn’t know where he’s going. 

Well, he probably does, but he’s not going to tell you. 

He knows you. He knows everything you’re thinking. He doesn’t want you to worry. Doesn’t want you to flinch if the city gets named on the nightly news.

You would spiral.

It’s what he signed up for. What he’s trained for. And by extension, it’s what you signed up for too.

It doesn’t make it any less terrifying to give him up.

“I need you here with me, please,” Sam begged, covering your body with his, his nose pressing against your cheek. “For now.”

He’s trying to survive the weight of the reality that awaited. Pretending things are normal. 

Pretend with me, he wants to ask. But how could he? It’s too much.

Your hands find the soft velvet of his freshly buzzed hair and hold him close. “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, his lips finding yours in the process. 

There’s a level of detail in his every movement. Things that might normally get glossed over in the rush of chasing down that delicious morsel of pleasure are studied, taken apart.

It’s almost clinical.

He’s made it his job to map your features, to view you like this, to memorise the sounds his fingers elicit. Selfishly, he would draw on it later. But above all else, he needs to impart upon you just how much he cares. 

Just in case. 

So he takes his time. Well-versed in you, like it’s a vocation. His lips find your neck. His fingers dive low, drawing desperate, keening moans from your throat that he feels the vibrations of in his lips.

Your body chases his touch.

The tide pulls back. Threatens to wash you away. 

And right when things are too much, there he is.

“Breathe,” he urges, lips ghosting over your cheek as he lifts his face, watching you come undone.

Tense muscles, strangled cries, grip burning as the tide rushes back in all at once. 

Your legs clamp his hips in place against yours, keeping him trapped, your tremors bringing him close, too close, and he’s panicking. On the verge of relief, but he needs more friction.

Whines leave his throat, his fingers wrapping around one of your ankles, freeing his hips from your vice. And he moves.

Just a few seconds more, that’s all it takes. He’s buried deep, as deep as he can be, feet pushing off against the mattress, desperate to meld with you permanently.

The recovery is slow. It needs to be, this time.

For now.

The crush of him on top of you is welcome. Your eyes draw lines between the freckles on his shoulder as you both just breathe.

It’s easier now, after. Easier to forget about tomorrow.

“Sam,” you whisper. 

“Hmm?” he hums, his head turning so his lips brush over your cheekbone.

“It’s not forever.”

He allows himself a smile. “Right.”

The current changes. It reverses. Passing over the threshold. To acceptance.

He rolls off of you, staying on his side, his eyes still focused on you, but there’s a comfort in them now. A weariness, too.

“You’ll be fine without me,” he mutters, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

You force yourself to smile. You can be sad later, after he’s gone. “I don’t know, who else will remind me to get up on time after I’ve snoozed all my alarms?”

He laughs. “Sounds like it’s time to sink or swim, baby.”

He grins at your show of frustration, his heart a fraction less heavy. He needs the levity, craves it. 

He reaches out, pulling you into his chest as you pretend to push him away. But once his lips find your skin, the jig is up, and you’re melting again.

“Hey,” he says, cutting through the noise, the thoughts. As you focus on him, he smiles, big and bright. It’s meaningful. Something worth searing into memory. “I’m gonna miss the fuck out of you, you know that?”

It could’ve been sad. Depressing, even, to acknowledge. But oddly it doesn’t feel that way right now. 

You’re just grateful. Grateful to have him so close, to get to watch him smile, to get to hear his laugh. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, Sam.” It was a guarantee.

Distracting him with little touches, talking through the next few months you’ll spend without him, it all gets a fraction of a percent easier. 

Waking up will be hell, but it’s all temporary. Eventually, he will be returned to you, and you’ll be waiting to help him get back to this.

A/N: Hope this was okay. I had something more lighthearted in mind when I first started trying to write anything for Sam, but tonight his just kind of fell out. Hope you find something to like about it, and if not, that's fine. If it's terrible, please tell me. Thank you!

[totalrager]

Bill prefers a more hands-on approach when it comes to gaming.

cw: set between late 90s/early 2000s, fem!reader, r is not a #gamergirl for plot purposes, ooc to the max bc bill isn’t allowed within 50 feet of the opposite sex :P

Nailed to the wooden door, painted in bold, red letters, is a giant sign that reads ‘NO GIRLS ALLOWED’.

“You break a single thing in here, and I’ll call the cops, I swear to god.”

“Great, anything else?"

“Touch my comics, and you’re dead.” 

The threat rolls off your shoulders as quickly as he said it.

It’s been like this ever since you walked through the front door.

After getting a call, at 2 a.m. might you add, Bill had been real adamant about you coming over; something about his usual visitors being 'too busy doing other stupid bullshit' and wanting to show off his mad skills at a new game he'd purchased.

Had you not been on the verge of falling back asleep, you would've called him on his shit and made him admit that he really just wanted to see you.

Regardless, and in hopes of putting an end to the semi-rantish call, you said yes.

Bill, having finally gone through his extensive rule list and coming close to having you sign a contract, unlocks the wooden door and pushes it open; the worn-out stairs squeak loudly as the two of you make your descent into the dark room.

As if it were second nature, he felt around in the air for a moment before yanking on a dangling cord. The only source of light reveals his magnum opus.

The basement was exactly as you pictured it.

Hanging on almost every wall that didn't have a giant bookshelf pushed in front of it, several shelves were bearing multiple miniature knick-knacks and large posters featuring what you assumed was every single sci-fi movie to have ever existed.

Towards one of the corners of the room was a beat-up table covered in a fictional map, surrounded by over a dozen mini figurines; a battle having clearly taken place the night before.

But what stuck out to you the most was that it was noticeably clean.

Y'know, for a guy.

Aside from the clutter of personal belongings that bordered on a novice level of hoarding, there was not a single speck of dust.

No crumpled papers, bits of plastic, fast food wrappers, or anything. You could be mistaken, but you’re almost positive he vacuumed, too; Hell, even the tiny waste basket shoved next to the couch was empty.

Was this all because you were coming over? Did he want to make a good impression? 

The thought alone sends your guts aflutter with some bizarre version of flattery.

As your gaze flits all around the room, you feel a heat radiating from your host’s laser-focused gaze aimed directly at your face.

“What?”

“You look… different.”

Okay, so what if you actually put some effort into your appearance, doused yourself in your favorite perfume, and put on your nicest pair of jeans?

It’s not like you wanted to look somewhat decent for the guy you were maybe-kinda-sorta seeing or anything; even if said guy couldn’t give any less of a damn about how you looked.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” You shrug nonchalantly, hoping he wouldn’t see through your thinly-veiled ruse, “I always look like this. Are you just now paying attention?”

God only knows the amount of ridicule the little weasel’d dogpile you with if he found out you got all ‘prettified’ just for him.

Plus, his ego would over-inflate to unprecedented levels and take out all mankind like a modern-day version of the meteor that ended the reign of dinosaurs.

Luckily, with one last eye flicker and a low, noncommittal ‘hm’ from the back of his throat, the brief subject is dropped.

Guess you both did some light primping.

He moves further into the room, not before throwing back a witty 'You should take a picture; it'll last longer.'.

“I can’t help it; it’s not every day my pookie bear lets me into his holy sanctum to play with his little toys.” You flutter your eyelashes at him, earning a disturbed sneer in return.

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Pookie bear?” you feign innocence. 

“Yes, that. Only pussywhipped normies use that cutesie crap and I refuse to subject myself to such standards.”

“Whatever you say, snookums.”

“I so loathe you.” Bill let out one last aggravating sigh before busying himself with the gaming system he’d mentioned over the phone.

As he connects a couple of wires to his TV, you awkwardly hang around for something more to do, settling on picking at a hang nail just to have something to busy your hands with.

The solution comes when you make eye contact with a nearby shelf, a couple of out-of-box action figures practically beckoning you over.

“Ooh! What if we each grabbed one and made them kiss and junk? Wouldn’t that be romantic?”

You snag a figure that had a very Baywatch David Hasselhoff-y vibe with puffier hair and a gun strapped to his hip and deepen your voice, holding it up close to Bill, “Listen to the chick, punk. She’s got the right idea.”

A certain lasso-handling heroine is also thrown into the mix as you adjust your tone to be more smooth and confident.

“I agree, Please help me declare my undying love for…” You pause for a moment in an attempt to recall the gunslinger’s name, “that guy.”

Bill scoffs 'unamusingly' at your childish display and (lightly) swats the hand holding the intergalactic smuggler away from his face, “Like Han Solo would ever be caught dead making out with a woman who wears her panties out in public to fight crime.”

“Pssh, He’d be lucky if Wonder Woman even glanced in his general direction.” 

He pauses, “How do you know who Wonder Woman is?”

“Can’t tell you; it’ll take the mystery out of our relationship.” (You thumbed through a stack of comics when he wasn’t looking.) “Are you going to show me how to play or what?”

As if on cue, the TV’s noisy static blaring through the speakers smoothens out to a more upbeat and inviting tune, making way to display the psychedelic home screen of one Mario Kart 64.

You let out a delighted ‘oooo!’ before plopping down next to your kinda-sorta boyfriend on his circular carpet as he fiddles around with two controllers, ensuring that both are fully functional and cooperating.

Bill messes around with the game select screen, making sure to pick two players before moving on to the character select screen, the more exciting of the two.

There are eight options for you to choose from, ranging from a human plumber to... you want to say a punk dragon with a mohawk? 

Before you can make a decision, you're given some unwarranted advice: "You can be peach, obviously."

“Are you saying that because I’m dainty and pretty like her?”

“Uh, no. She’s pink and the only girl.”

As appealing as that sounds, another character had already caught your eye. “Forget that. I want to be the green dino thingy.”

“Yoshi? Out of the question, I already chose him.”

“No way, I want him!”

“No, fuck off! I picked him first!”

“BILL, PLEASEEE!”

“Get off of me!”

———

After the two of you take the time to have a well-rounded and productive discussion ("STOP THROWING CUSIONS AT ME!"), you come to an agreement.

“Whatever, I wanted to be Toad anyway.” He eventually concedes.

A triumphant giggle bubbles past your lips, earning a heatless scowl from Bill, as the game finally, finally begins.

You watch as a quick runthrough of the track displays itself: a hilly, rainbow-y mess set deep in outer space; cartoon logics, who were you to argue.

As the countdown begins and the competitors rev up their engines, a previously forgotten problem makes its way to the forefront of your mind. “Wait- Bill- I don’t know the controls!”

“Can’t help you, gotta win.”

And the race is on!

As he moves freely around the map and plays out maneuvers only capable of being done by someone who already knew every trick in the game, all you managed to do was move forward a couple feet, change the camera angles, and then crash straight into a wall, where you remained until the end of the race as Bill, as expected, effortlessly places first.

To add insult to injury, right before crossing the finish line, one of the last remaining CPUs nails you with a projectile. "Oh, come on!"

He lets out a victorious and annoyingly mocking cackle as the rankings are given, placing you at dead last, right underneath a literal ape.

You jut your bottom lip out in disdain, “Does unfairly beating me make you feel good about yourself, Dickey?”

“It really does. Thanks for asking.”

"Jerk."

"It's not my fault you're so bad at this."

“I am trying my-“ a sudden warmth descends upon you as a pair of flannel-covered arms wrap themselves atop of your own, “-best.”

He’s initiating contact! holy shit, holy shit, don't make any sudden moves or he’ll get spooked. Oh my god!

Bill ‘hand-holding is for douchebags’ Dickey was willingly pulling a slightly less messy version of the pottery scene from Ghost; all in the name of showing you how to play a game meant for kids.

During all this overthinking, he's also pointing out each multi-colored button and its designated purpose. 

So it's possible he doesn't consciously realize the very intimate hold he has on your right now.

Oh well, you'll take what you can get.

Is that aftershave you're smelling? Since when has he ever worn that?

“-button to perform slides on turns so you don’t lose any speed, but it’s a move for more advanced players, such as myself, and I doubt you’d be able to do it correctly.”

Wait, how long has he been talking for?

Any sound tumbling out of his mouth sounds exactly like it’s coming from one of the offscreen adults in Peanuts.

"You’re holding it wrong.”

You blink. “W-what other way is there? I don’t have three hands.”

“The controller's only meant to be held by the middle and right part.”

You nearly swallow your tongue as Bill maneuvers your hands, which were getting embarrassingly clammier by the second, into the correct position.

He then chooses another track, one that was covered in cows, and the countdown begins once again.

Except this time, once the little guy on the cloud makes it to one, instead of focusing on winning and jetting off to remain ahead of the other racers, his cart remains at a standstill next to yours. “Okay, press A to go.”

That should be easy enough to find!

One measly little A shouldn’t be an issue.

You stare down at the controller, and a beat of awkward silence hangs thickly in the air.

“Uh...”

Unseen by you, Bill rolls his eyes. “Are you new to the English language? You’re hopeless.”

He presses your thumb down, and by some odd miracle, Yoshi is finally moving forward, this time without hitting any barriers.

Like the world's most annoying teacher, he helps remind you again and again what button serves what purpose, all while keeping his hold on you.

While it initially flustered you, you started to get used to the added heat and focused on actually winning.

When he feels that you've finally got a grasp on the controls, he gives you full-reign of the controller and drops his arms; although, Bill doesn't seem to go too far, simply choosing to hang them loosely around your waist.

You don't think much of it, too preoccupied dodging a few cows whose life mission was to be run over.

"Stupid asshole," you murmur angrily under your breathe as a green plumber bumps into your kart and nearly sends you veering off course. 

The race gets even more intense when you finally manage to catch up and riding the red plumber's ass for first. 

"Throw it already, he's right fucking there!" Bill encourages, his grip tightening from excitement.

Your arm jerks to the right as if the movement will help Yoshi avoid a banana placed by the unfair CPU racer. "I'm trying, I'm trying!"

"Then throw the damn shell!"

"Stop backseat driving!"

With the checkered finish line in sight, you make the last ditch effort to twart your opponent and toss the green shell.

You both watch with bated breath as it hits the white fences along the sides like the world's most annoying pinball, inching closer and closer to its intended target before it finally makes a-

"Direct hit!"

At the absolute last second, Mario is sent toppling over like the giant tool he is, making a clear path for Yoshi, the ambitious little dinosaur, to take first place.

"I did it!" The wide grin on your face nearly splits your face in two as Yoshi lets out his victory... cheer?

You don't dwell too much on it.

Maneuvering yourself around and then tossing your arms around his neck, you relish in the small, dare you say, proud expression displayed on your boyfriend's face,  "Did you see that?" 

This time, you can see when he rolls his eyes, "Duh, I was right here." 

"How does it feel to be dating someone with better gaming skills than you?"

"Please, I could've played better than that in my sleep."

"Is that a bet I hear, Mr. Dickey?" You twirl a lock of his auburn hair in between your fingers.

You're not sure exactly when it clicks, but the sudden realization of the extremely close proximity he's placed himself in brings an abrupt end to the light teasing between you two.

Bill's entire face turns a brilliantly bright cherry red as he scrambles back over to his side of the floor, accidently knocking you on your ass and stammering the whole way, “T-tell anyone about this and I-I’ll just say you were c-coming onto me.” 

Initially, you thought that you accidentally overstepped your boundaries and caused him some grief, knowing how weird he is with physical contact, all of which is thrown out the window when he keeps glancing over at you.

You snicker, "Don't worry, I liked it too."

He sucks his teeth in what you took as dismissal, "whatever."

The tiny smile he's fighting so hard to stamp down says otherwise.

He quietly grabs his controller and returns to the map selection screen, scrolling through the submenus until he finally settles on one.

You take the silent hint and reach for yours, keeping your distance and refocusing on the screen.

As the two of you settle back in, Bill not-so-subtly scooches himself closer to you, tensing slightly when his leg makes contact.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, you just slump further into his side, leaning your head on his shoulder.

It takes every fiber in your body and then some to not squeal in pure ecstasy when he returns the small gesture by squishing his head on top of yours.

"YEAHHH, EAT SHIT!”

“WHEN DID YOU GET A RED SHELL?!”

extra:

"Hey, freak. Have you seen my sewing kit? I got a couple grudges to- what the hell?”

Jane watches in complete shock as the whirlwind formerly known as her brother frantically shoves pile after pile of trash into a large bag.

There’s a couple more just like it in terms of size piled up in the corner; right beside them is a discarded feather duster and a tangled-up vacuum cleaner.

"I didn't touch your shit," Bill calls over his shoulder, "can't you see I'm busy?"

“Since when do you clean?”

Her only answer is a grumbled 'mind your damn business' as her brother proceeds to dump last night's leftover campaign fuel into the overstuffed garbage bag in his tight grasp.

"Is it for a girl? It's a girl, isn't it?"

The younger Dickey takes a moment to soak in the fact that her brother, the selfish bastard that couldn’t bring himself to give a shit about other people, was actively making an effort to try and impress another human being and allowing them to step foot into his ‘nerd cave’.

You really can’t make this stuff up.

"Y'know,” she drawls after a moment of complete silence, an almost cat-like smirk stretching itself across her pale cheeks, “for a while there, I thought you weren't interested in girls."

"Oh, for the love of- GET OUT!"

[lucillewalterblack]

I’m actually not done talking about this -

I have such a frustration with the urge (not even contemporary! Ancient!) to strip Odysseus of his chosen loyalty to his wife. It’s one of the few issues I had with the subtext of The Return, which allowed Odysseus to be hinted to have committed sexual violence (though personally I chose to interpret his silence as shame that he did not do more to stop the rampant rape than shame that he partook) and removed his desire for monogamy with Penelope from his motivations.

This is something that makes him unique among the figures in Homer - Menelaus is not loyal to Helen, Agamemnon is not loyal to Clytemnestra, even Achilles and Patroclus do have sex with women as an extension of their social roles. Odysseus actively prioritizing his marriage and his wife makes him an interesting figure, because he would not face any serious consequences for infidelity, or even indeed be seen as an adulterer for taking additional lovers. And where I think the text is fairly clear that he’s a victim of assault twice over, post-Homeric conceptions of men as incapable of being assaulted or raped (and men always desiring sex, and this desire being something that is itself a mark of their masculinity and a point of pride) have turned his sexual encounters into things he actively sought and desired. His sexual dalliances, as they’re presented in many modern translations and certainly in much of pop culture, become signs of his manhood, and not things that harmed him and robbed him of the chance to only share himself with his wife.

There’s this idea that no man would want monogamy, and that therefore no man would care all that much about having beautiful women force themselves upon him; that contributes to some really gross ideas about rape and men and male victims of rape. “All men want sex” is something we can and should move on from

[rosesnbooks]

Astrology observations #5🖤

🌜I wrote these for fun, based on how i see these placements. i'm not a professional! hope you enjoy these🌛

⭐cancer placements allow themselves to feel their emotions. they may get annoyed by the intensity or the amount of them, but they process them fully, and this makes it easier for them to move on. random thought but writing letters to people they like may be something they do or did as kids haha. they're very romantic

⭐some aries venuses have obsessive tendencies when they have a crush, and they get frustrated a lot if they think they can't/shouldn't pursue them. they enjoy the tension, but they don't want it to last too long because they dislike not being in control, and having feelings for someone leaves them feeling too vulnerable. that's why they try to move on if they can, but it takes work. when they do find someone, they become really clingy but they still need freedom when it suits them

⭐mars in libra avoid conflicts and try to be reasonable about everything, but if they think you crossed a line, you'll see why aries is their sister sign pretty soon. once they tell you off, you'll never see them the same way, so underrestimate them at your cost

⭐having stelliums can be interesting. it for sure puts a lot of emphasis on the influence of that house on your life, and i found that it can be both positive and negative since they face lots of challenges related to their house but also many blessings. those who have stelliums kind of embody multiple characteristics simultaneously

⭐sun in the 11th people glow when they are with their closest friends. they also tend to dream big and care a lot about the world. their friends usually help them in their future goals. they feel a bit different than people in their hometown/country, mostly because they cannot be tied down to a single culture because they enjoy different things, which usually makes them quite open-minded and tolerant. they can be picky about the people they let in super close though

⭐mars in the 6th can procrastinate a lot actually, but they get things done. may get sudden waves of high energy and get things done rapidly and extensively. they expect a lot from themselves regarding their ambitions and aspirations. they try to improve themselves in any way most of the time, but they should also accept their current state if they want to evolve and love themselves. they need to watch out for their moral perfectionism too. it's okay to make mistakes as long as you apologise and strive to change for the better

⭐i've found that virgo mercuries can be really direct, even if they are shy or don't talk much around strangers or acquaintances, they have their moments. super funny too

⭐north node in cancer struggle with accepting their vulnerable side. they hate feeling like things and people can evoke strong emotions in them. they want to be more detached, but those that work on themselves find it very rewarding once they embrace their strong emotions. they can also be really reliable, practical, and thoughtful

⭐fire+water combinations in birth charts-i am sending you a hug. i know exactly how difficult it is to keep all those emotions under check, and that you need a lot of understanding and rest to function. use those emotions and passions well hun, you are strong and capable. you have a lot of empathy and wonder inside of you

⭐capricorn sun/mercury have a dry way of texting. their humor is difficult to read via text and they simply are not fans of texting, and it shows lol

⭐aries mercuries are not always available online and they may come and go when they're online, but they'll answer all of your messages one by one with lots of enthusiasm. they also like to send memes and joke around a lot

⭐virgo mercuries are not fans of texting and they can answer you after a couple of days or so even if they really like you. similarly to aries, they'll make sure they answer everything and they also pay attention to every detail you mention. very sweet really. their humor shines brighter in person

⭐taurus moon are very capable. they may prefer rest over anything else, but their patience and dedication to the things they need to do is really cool. they are calm most of the time so it's nice to be around them, just don't disrespect them and everyone will thrive

⭐taurus venus men can be really possessive. even if you like such behavior, some can go to extremes and try to control how you feel, think, and behave. they have a specific image of an ideal partner and they want you to fulfill it

⭐libra venus tend to care about how they look and present themselves so they put lots of effort into that. they also have standards when it comes to beauty and some expect others to dress and look well, whether they know them or not

⭐women with venus in aquarius-you may be attracted to men who are mysterious and act like they're special. just be careful because there are so many toxic ones out there who want a relationship but not truly, because they don't want to dedicate themselves to you and maybe plan on using you

⭐pisces moon can feel like they're drowning in their own emotions sometimes because they cannot control them easily and they tend to give in. if they like to portray themselves as a martyr these emotions can get out of hand because they let those emotions lead them which influences their mental health and relationships. those who are developed process these emotions and try to figure them out and let them pass. they can learn a lot about themselves and others this way. creative outlets can be of help to process this

⭐leo moon need to watch out for hurting people when their ego is hurt because they can lash out and make lots of damage. take a second to think whether it's worth it or not, since there is no point in trying to "win" in a fight with someone you love

⭐pisces mars can be too forgiving, especially to those they care about. don't let people walk over you dear, no matter who they are. nobody deserves that kind of treatment

thank you for reading!🤍i also offer paid astrology readings, so check out my blog for more info

©rosesnbooks

[mekakitsune]

caitlyn x vi x reader | nsfw - minors dni

as promised <3 extension of my last post but can be read separately

you, despite your confusion, were happy to hear violet was in contact with her sister once again. you had heard the stories, drunked and slurred as the pink haired girl poured her heart out.

what shocked you, was news of a certain someone finding her way back into violets life. you had respect for vi, for whatever her and caitlyn had going on. your job at the brothel came with many feelings, ones that you had trained yourself to push away. a job is a job, thats what youd tell yourself.

the night went by like any other as of recent, slow and barely steady, leaving you with not much else to do but pack up and find your way home. it was only a small amount of time after your curtains were closed for the night that you heard hushed voices in the hall.

"are you sure?" a voice spoke, seemingly uncertain in the unusually quiet halls of the brothel.

"just...trust me?" it was her, the girl you had seen many times over the last few weeks, the girl who had drunkenly poured her heart out to you in the very room you sat in. sometimes, it was sex, a way to make both of you forget the general dismay of the fissures. other times, you just talked, almost like a small, pitiful therapy session for the both of you.

you had told her to come back, had she needed anything, but to follow her heart, to find the girl that held the key.

the curtian slid open slowly revealing the pair. you gave a gentle, yet sad smile as your eyes locked onto vi's.

"i told you id come back....and look, i brought a friend" she joked with a nervous chuckle, but something in her voice seemed uncertain. you swear you noticed the other girl stifle a laugh with a roll of her eyes.

"im glad you made it safe, both of you." you gave a genuine smile. you knew way more than you should, but seeing violet seem more lively than before, and seemingly sober, you took their appearance together as a good thing.

"im sure the two of you had a lot to say about me, and i get it. it was a lot of miscommunication, on both parts, but i wanted to thank you...for being there for her." the dark haired girl spoke, leaving you surprised at her kind words. you half expected the girl to jump you, not thank you for sleeping with her so called "situationship."

"its what i do." you stated simply, giving the girl a bashful smile. this felt so different from any other client visit.

"she told me about you...how you took care of her." caitlyn spoke smoothly, moving to sit herself beside you on the couch, dangerously close.

"youre a good person for that." she placed her hand on your knee, causing your skin to tingle. vi moves to sit herself beside you on the opposite side, leaving you feeling slightly overcrowded suddenly.

"she did...did everything i needed her to." violet spoke, hand finding yours and giving it a comforting squeeze.

the air suddenly felt hot as the two girls shuffled impossibly close. cool fingers found your chin, belonging to caitlyn, moving your head to look at her. "we want to repay you." she purred, scanning your face carefully for any signs to back off.

"you dont need to pay me...i just thought it was the right thing to do, no strings attached." you spoke softly, words almost getting caught in your throat at the sudden attention from the girl.

caitlyn hummed at your response, a smirk on her pretty lips.

"you know, ever since vi told me about you, the two of us havent been able to stop thinking about you."

you turn slightly to look at vi, who nodded with a sly smile on her face. "s'true. best lay ive had in a long time." she poked your side teasingly, making you huff and laugh softly.

turning back to caitlyn, you spoke– "this isnt how i expected this meeting to go..." you confessed, mesmerized by how easy it was for these two to charm you.

"lifes full of surprises, isnt it?" caitlyn whispered, eyes trailing on your lips. your breath hitches as she leans in, lips almost touching where you suddenly wanted her.

"just say the words and we will stop." her breath tickled your skin, making your chest squeeze in anticipation.

"please dont." you barely manage to speak, and with the final confirmation, her lips press against yours. the kiss was hungry, sinful for just having met the girl. her tongue brushed your lips, and you immediately grant her access to what shes been craving. a whine sounds from your throat as a strong pair of hands find your hips from behind you, rubbing affectionately.

after a few more breathless moments, the girl pulls back from your lips. her eyes seem darker now, filled with something you couldn't place.

a shudder rips through you as vi's lips find your neck, pressing searing kisses against the skin.

"let us take care of you." she muttered between nips on the delicate skin.

you nod desperately, back pressing against her firm chest. caitlyn moves in front of you gracefully, fingers finding the ribbons of your robe, untying it with experienced fingers. the fabric falls down your shoulders revealing your breasts, making both girls hum in approval.

caitlyns hands find home on your chest, squeezing softly and smirking at the cute whines leaving your lips and the arch of your spine. she moves forward to press calculated kisses along the exposed flesh. her lips move to your nipples, sucking the bud softly as you pant beneath her. vi's hands move from your hips to push away the pool of fabric, leaving you bare. caitlyn moves to give vi a silent demand, which the girl immediately obeys. she pulls away from your back just enough to slip her fingers under her own shirt, pulling it off after she shrugs off her jacket. youre pulled back against her with much force, causing you to gasp, the feeling of the warm skin of her breasts against your back making you undeniably soaked.

caitlyns hands move to your thighs, spreading them in a sinful yet delicious manner. she shuffles herself so she is between your legs, and her lips press kissed along your lower stomach and thighs. you gasp and your hips buck into her as she leaves small bites along your plush skin.

after much teasing and marking you up, you feel her breath on your core. you feel her blow cool air onto your dripping pussy, making you moan loudly.

caitlyn laughs slightly at your reaction. "you were right vi, she is cute." she smiled at the display infront of her. vi huffs a laugh against your neck in response –"told ya."

a whine sounds from you again and caitlyn decides she cant hold herself back any longer. the moment her tongue touches your cunt, electric sparks tingle up your spine, making you buck into her once again. her pace is steady, licking and sucking at your swollen clit and dripping hole. once shes deemed you ready, her fingers play with your hole before sliding in two slim digits. you gasp at the intrusion and arch against the girl sat behind you, who is very clearly enjoying the show. vi's lips find your neck again, sucking pretty purple splotches into your heated skin.

it was incredibly overwhelming, the lips on your neck paired with the fingers in your cunt. you were getting close embarrassingly quick, despite having sex for a living. you had never felt so taken care of, so...noticed.

caitlyn watches intently as her fingers slid in and out at a steady pace, moving her head back down to lap at your clit once again. you clench around her fingers tightly, gasping and moaning into the back of your hand. suddenly, a strong hand rips your own away from your lips.

"dont get shy now pretty girl, show her how good shes making you feel, let us hear it." vi muttered into your neck, making you spiral even deeper.

you mind was beginning to fog and your cunt was undeniably dripping onto the couch below, but you didnt care. not when caitlyn was eating you out like you were her last fucking meal. your hips shuddering and your whines pitching told both girls you were close to cumming.

"cum for us baby, let us see it." vi rasped from behind you, hands squeezing at your sensitive chest.

her words were more than enough to push you over the edge, along with caitlyns steady thrusts. she licks at your pussy as you moan shamelessly. you cum hard around her fingers and into her mouth, not missing the groan ripping from caitlyns throat as she swallows everything you give her. she doesnt stop until your panting hard, hips bucking and thighs shaking. she pulls away after letting you ride it out, moving up to slot herself between your thighs. her fingers find your chin as she pulls you into another kiss, this time much messier and far less calculated. you whine against her lips quitely, unintentionally following her as she pulls away. before you can protest, shes leaning over your shoulder and slamming her lips against vi's, making her moan at the taste of you on her girlfriends tongue. you watch in awe as the two girls kiss feverishly.

after a moment caitlyn pulls back again, this time looking down at you. her chest is heaving and her lips are swollen, its an incredible sight to behold.

"i want to see her make you cum now." she nods at vi, who immediately grabs your hips and flips you over so you are beneath her.

"you can give us another, right princess?" vi smirks at your shocked expression, large hands rubbing your thighs.

what have you gotten yourself into? something told you it was going to be a long night.

TAGLIST: @frsnkxie @themoonitselff

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