#like. It's fun for me. I like having to think about these things and having to learn and problem solve to conform to Mostly hard

[sevikaswifegurl]

RED FLAG!

Synopsis: What happens when he says that one of his habits is a red flag?

Word count: 2.389

Characters: Carlos Sainz, Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Kimi Antonelli and Lance Strol.

Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any errors and promise that I will improve the templates

Inspiration: @tsunodaradio please don't curse at me, I swear I looked at your post and thought: "I have to do one like this, I need to" and I love your account, so I was inspired by it, I'm sorry if you feel "invaded" or something like that, if you feel that way let me know and I'll delete the post!

CARLOS S. (CS55)🚩 ⸻ INSTANT TEXT REPLIES

Carlos realizes something's changed when you stop replying so quickly. It’s not a huge absence — not hours, not days. Just long enough for him to notice that now, your messages sit there. Waiting.

Before, it was automatic. He’d barely hit “send” and your reply was already coming in. Sometimes you both typed at the same time, your messages overlapping. It was lighthearted, fun. He laughed, and you used to say you just wanted to make sure he never felt alone.

But after that stupid conversation — just a random night, when he made a thoughtless joke about replying too fast being a red flag — it all stopped. You smiled, but it wasn’t the same. The next morning, you took over twenty minutes to reply to a “good morning.” That had never happened before.

By the third time he notices it, he can’t pretend anymore.

You’re sitting on his bed, rubbing lotion into your hands, lost in your own routine. Carlos is leaning against the doorframe, watching you. And he says it — no warning:

“You stopped replying fast because of me, didn’t you?”

You glance over your shoulder at him, not quite following.

“You said it was a red flag.”

“I was joking.” He folds his arms, stepping closer. “But I think I hurt you.”

You take a deep breath and lower your gaze.

“You laughed at one of the only things I did without thinking. Replying to you quickly… it was never about anxiety. I just liked talking to you.”

Carlos sits beside you. Your shoulders brush.

“I didn’t want you to change that because of me.”

“I know.” You smile, just a little.

“But I thought maybe you didn’t like it as much as I thought you did.”

He takes your hand. Squeezes it gently.

“I loved it. Still do. I stare at my phone like an idiot, waiting for that ‘hey’ two seconds after mine.”

You laugh under your breath. Rest your head on his shoulder.

“Then don’t complain when I go back to being way too fast.”

“I won’t. Promise.”

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You reach for it, type a reply without even looking. Carlos smiles.

You’re back.

OSCAR P. (OP81)🚩 ⸻ TAKING A GYM MIRROR SELFIE

Oscar never thought something as simple as a gym mirror selfie could mean so much. It was more than just a photo — it was a fragment of your day, a stolen moment between sweat and effort that he could keep and revisit whenever the distance started to weigh heavy.

He loved those pictures. Your hair tied up in any way, sometimes damp, sometimes stuck to your forehead with sweat. The soft gym lighting glowing against the foggy mirror. That crooked little smile you’d give the camera, like you were saying, “I’m here, I’m still going.”

Every photo you sent was like a secret note, a quiet reminder that even far apart, you were connected. He’d check his phone with this ridiculous anticipation, waiting for that one notification that could brighten up the middle of a long day.

Sometimes it was a classic selfie — sports bra on, elbow on your waist. Other times, a short clip of your workout, muffled music in the background, your focused eyes as you pushed through the final rep. The caption could be anything — “almost died,” “PR on leg press,” “barely surviving” — but to him, every word was a precious detail of your routine, your effort, your strength.

And then, one day, the photos just... stopped.

At first, he thought it was just a break. Maybe you were tired, or too focused on training to think about documenting every moment. But what started as a pause turned into silence. The silence became longing, and longing turned into this quiet, aching emptiness he didn’t quite know how to fix.

He missed those images the way he missed your scent when you were apart too long, the way he missed your touch after a bad day. He missed opening his phone and seeing your flushed face, that tired but proud look in your eyes, that visual proof that you were out there, pushing through, winning.

One night, after another full day, he gave in. Picked up his phone, hesitated just for a second, and typed:

“I miss your gym selfies.”

On the other end, you laughed — light, surprised.

“Really? I thought you said that was a red flag.”

He shook his head, even though you couldn’t see him.

“Red flag? Never. I love them. They're my favorite part of the day.”

You went quiet for a second, then your voice came through soft and careful:

“Then why did you say it was?”

Oscar sighed, a little embarrassed.

“I didn’t want to sound weird. I thought it might annoy you.”

“You don’t annoy me” you said, and he could practically hear the smile on your lips.

“Alright. I’ll send you a bunch of selfies. Every time.”

The phone buzzed a minute later.

There you were — hair stuck to your forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed, the gym mirror foggy behind you, a tired but genuine smile lighting up the frame.

Oscar smiled to himself on the couch, holding his phone like it was the most valuable thing in the world.

“Best thing that ever happened to my timeline” he replied, already counting down the minutes until the next one.

From that day on, the gym mirror selfies became a ritual. More than just photos, they were pieces of both your days — invisible threads that held you close through distance and time. Every picture a silent promise: that no matter where you were, you’d find each other — even if just through a screen and a slightly blurry selfie.

And deep down, Oscar knew those photos — so simple, so you — were more than just images. They were the way you stayed close, remembered, loved.

LANDO N. (LN4)🚩 ⸻ LIKING EVERY PHOTO ON HIS SOCIAL MEDIA FEED

You never really thought about it. Liking Lando’s posts was one of those small, automatic things — a reflex. He posted a gym mirror selfie, you liked it. A random selfie in his stories with a ridiculous filter, you liked it. A photo of the car, the track, a random sunset: like. Always.

It wasn’t flattery. It was just... you being there. Present. Saying everything without saying anything.

At first, he thought it was funny. He used to send you screenshots of the notifications, saying “First like as always,” or “Can’t get a second of peace with you online.” It was a joke. Affection disguised as teasing.

Until the video.

You were lying in bed, scrolling aimlessly through your feed, when you saw the title: “F1 Drivers Decide Their Personality Red Flags!” You clicked for entertainment, nothing more — until Lando showed up on screen, cap on, with that look like he was always on the edge of laughing.

“Red flag?” he repeated, thinking. “If you like every photo on my feed… I’ll block you.”

Your stomach twisted. Sure, he laughed after the line. But it was that weird kind of laugh — the one that comes a little late, with a half-look. And it stuck in your mind.

The next post, you hesitated. Scrolled past without hitting the heart. And then you kept doing it. One, two, five posts — no likes from you. Nothing on his stories either. No comments.

Two days later, you were both on the couch, sharing a pizza and watching some random movie neither of you were really paying attention to. He was scrolling through his phone while you queued up the next episode.

“You stopped,” he said, out of nowhere.

You looked over. “What?”

“Liking my photos.” His eyes stayed on the screen, but his voice was more serious than usual.

“You said you’d block me,” you shrugged.

He finally turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “You thought I meant that?”

“It sounded like you did.”

Lando sighed and leaned back against the couch, dropping the phone onto his lap. “It was a joke. I said it smiling.”

“You smiled two seconds after saying it. That’s not the same thing.”

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at you, like he was deciding whether the argument was worth it. Then, softer:

“I liked it. Seeing you there. Liking everything. It made me feel like you were... with me. Even when you weren’t.”

Your chest tightened. You dropped your gaze for a second, until he reached over and laced his fingers with yours.

“If you want to like everything, go ahead,” he said, with a half-smile now. “Just don’t like stuff that’s too old or I’ll know you’re stalking me.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “As if you don’t do worse.”

“I’m discreet.”

“You liked a 2016 photo of mine at three in the morning.”

“I was conducting historical research.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your phone. And there, curled up next to him on the couch while he laughed beside you, you opened his profile and liked everything again. One by one.

Even the dumb ones.

Especially the dumb ones.

KIMI A. (KA12) 🚩 ⸻ NOT BEING TAGGED IN A GROUP PHOTO

The photo was taken right after the movies, after a whole Saturday wandering around the mall with the group. You hadn’t thought much about it: just lifted your phone, squeezed everyone into a tight frame, and hit the button before anyone blinked.

The result? Three spontaneous smiles, Giulie’s funny pout, and Kimi in the background, half-hidden behind you, with an expression too neutral for someone who had laughed so much half an hour before.

You posted it as soon as you got home. A simple caption, basic emojis. Tagged those who had replied to your stories on the way back. And went to sleep.

The next day, his notification wakes you up.

Kimi Antonelli commented on your post: “Nice photo. Too bad not everyone was there, huh?”

You don’t get it at first. Only later, reviewing the post, you notice the absence.

You didn’t tag him.

You open the chat without thinking twice.

“It was unintentional.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Kimi, I swear.”

“You even tagged Alessandro, who barely appears.”

You laugh despite the mini panic. Because yes, Alessandro only shows a shoulder and an eyebrow — and yet he got tagged. Kimi, fully there in the background, didn’t.

“Want me to fix it?”

It takes a while. Like three minutes.

“Too late now. Delete it. It looks ugly.”

You drop your phone on the bed. He never says things directly. But you know this tone. Kimi can drive a kart at two hundred an hour, but he feels invisible in a group photo.

In the afternoon, he shows up in front of your house like nothing happened. Old sweatshirt, messy hair, phone in his pocket. But when you open the gate, he just says:

“You forgot me.”

You cross your arms. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.” He puts his hands in his pockets. “But still.”

You stare at each other for a long second.

Then you pull out your phone. “Smile.”

“For what?”

“For a new photo.”

“Just me?”

“No,” you answer, walking over and tugging his sleeve. “Ours.”

He hesitates but smiles — that quiet kind you’re the only one who recognizes. You take the selfie, the two of you in front of your house, with no one else left to forget to tag.

You post it right after, no filter, no caption.

And tag only him.

LANCE S. (LS18) 🚩 ⸻ TAKING A PICTURE OF THE MEAL BEFORE LETTING PEOPLE EAT

Lance realizes it the worst way possible: when it’s already gone.

You’re at a restaurant in Barcelona, and the dish that arrives is too beautiful to just let pass — one of those you’d normally turn to the side, adjust the napkin, and murmur “just a second” while looking for the best angle.

But this time, you just... eat. As if you couldn’t let it go by.

He watches for a moment longer than he should, his own cutlery still resting at the edge of the plate.

“Aren’t you going to take a picture?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

You chew slowly. Give a small, almost shy smile. “You said it was a red flag.”

His fork slips slightly from his hand. “That was a joke.”

“I know.” You shrug. “But you were serious. At least at the time.”

He doesn’t answer. Just pretends the food is still too hot.

Later, with you asleep on his chest, Lance scrolls through the camera roll on your phone. Pictures of everything: your sneakers pressed against the subway, a crooked plant in Vienna, the reflection of you both in some shop window in Milan. But food... no. The last one is weeks ago — pasta with pesto and a glass of white wine. His hand appears in the corner, holding the plate for you.

He feels a silly tightness in his chest. It was just a photo, he thinks. But it was also your way of caring for things. Your way of marking what was beautiful. Of not letting it go unnoticed.

The next morning, you make pancakes. Serve two plates with cut fruit and a drizzle of honey, all simple, all beautiful your way. When you turn your back, he grabs the phone almost without thinking.

“Hey,” he says. “Hold the plate a little more to the left.”

You freeze. Turn slowly, looking at him.

“You want to take a picture?” you ask, voice low, suspicious.

Lance gives a half smile. “I want to see you do it again.”

You hesitate for a second. Then adjust the plate.

“Like this?” you ask.

“Perfect.”

[road-hauler]

Oh yea before I forget, I finally have all the Constructicon blokees product images, so made a new banner to celebrate. So cute...

Here's the slimmed down version, in both opaque and transparent background. Feel free to use however you want, go nuts.

Also the site is kinda evil when trying to extract the transparent versions, so I'll just put these here since I already went through the pain if anyone wants them.

[danidrabbles]

Throw Away The Oars

Michael “Dr. Robby” Robinavitch x f!reader | 6k words | explicit

Summary: You feel like Robby’s distancing himself from you. A slip of the tongue to the wrong person when you visit the pitt feels like it could be the final nail in the coffin of your undefined relationship.

Tags/Warnings: female reader (female anatomy), semi-follow up to Home Again but you can read this as a standalone, semi-established relationship, feelings/angst/fluff, insecurity, miscommunication but like with a fun outcome?, swearing, therapy (mentioned), emergency department horrors (mentioned), blood (mentioned), rats (mentioned), other pitt characters, smut (fingering f receiving, unprotected piv, public sex, dirty talk, creampie, spanking) – let me know if I missed anything!

Notes: Two fics in as many weeks? Unheard of. Genuinely feel like I was possessed when I wrote this, so if it isn’t good or sexy or fun, blame the Demon. I think the song is pretty obvious from the title, but it's mentioned more in the story. Hope you enjoy! Huge thank you to @javier-pena for proofreading, general enthusiasm, and for saying there's a line in this that should get an Academy Award for Hottest Line in a Fic.

– – – – –

Pittsburgh looks sad tonight. It isn’t particularly cold, but it rained all day and there are at least six different dark shades in the sky, like it’s saying, Hey, give me a good enough reason and I’ll have it pouring in no time. 

From the row of red taillights to the left of the sidewalk you’re on, you gather most people are making their way home right now. It’s approaching seven, it makes sense for the time. You find yourself discreetly looking into people’s cars, keeping yourself entertained with all the different characters, imagining what kind of life they have and what plans they made for the night. It’s like the weather knows about yours, because more dark clouds roll in, and you cease your people watching in favour of picking up your pace and getting you to your destination faster. 

You round the corner, the daunting height of that destination appearing in your eyeline. It’s almost like a lighthouse, with nearly every little window having that yellow-white shine to it. A helicopter flies overhead, the sound of the blades whirring making you look up, following it as it approaches the building's roof, and you’re reminded that for some people, the day is only just beginning.

You approach Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center feeling like there’s lead in your shoes for a different reason, and you actually kind of feel like an asshole about it.

This particular feeling should be reserved for people that are genuinely going through something. You know that inside that building, there are patients who are on the brink of death, holding hands with the people they love for the final time. There are patients receiving life altering, devastating diagnosis. Family members gently being guided into quiet rooms, where doctors explain how they did everything they could, but to no avail. It shouldn’t be felt by someone who is borrowing grief from the future over something as trivial as a two month relationship.

Things between you and Robby are different lately - or, well, they feel different anyway.

Admittedly, it’s all circumstantial, in the eye of the beholder, but that’s what’s fucking you up about it the most. First it was the little changes in the inflection in his voice whenever he says your name; last week it was him not wanting to meet up at his place, only yours; two days ago it was him drilling you into the mattress while looking at you like you hung the fucking stars, then leaving afterwards under the bullshit guise of an appointment be had with his fellow attending about rats in the emergency department.

You know Robby’s… complicated. He has his things going on, but who doesn’t? Plus, he’s actually working on it; you never see him on Wednesdays because that’s his therapy day and he’s focussed–dedicated. And you’re proud of him, but every time it's on the tip of your tongue to voice that, it hits you that you don’t know if you have any right to say it, if the role of supportive… whatever you are, is what he wants from you. No matter how patient you want to be, and you have been very patient, very willing to go at this at whichever pace he liked, it’s kind of like he’s freewheeling. Which is unlike him. Which only fucks you up more.

Safe to say, it’s messing with your head more than you care to admit. 

It’s just that you slipped into a sense of familiarity so fast that you never really had a conversation about where this is all going. You know he isn’t seeing other people, he made that clear a few weeks in, when you asked and he laughed, because where would he find the time for that, and yeah, that was a good point. He knows you’re not seeing anyone else thanks to a very in the heat of the moment exchange, with him, on the verge of coming, asking you, because he needed to know. When you said no, he pulled out, ripped off his condom, and finished on your stomach with a rough, “Good.”

(When you mentioned that he should do that inside next time, he made a sound, slid back in, and came a second time, like the admission had given him some sort of feral, possessive second wind.)

So all things considered, mixed signals. 

Maybe you shouldn’t be here, picking him up like you agreed you would a week ago, when you made plans to go to the movies together. Maybe you should have also made up a stupid excuse, let him figure his shit out, and wait for him to call you once he did. But you’re an adult, who realizes manipulation tactics are futile, and childish. Eventually, for better or for worse, you’re going to have to tell him how you feel about him.

Unfortunately for you, you’ve been known to make choices that aren’t the best for your heart.

You enter PTMC with as much confidence as you can muster up, then make a beeline for the elevator. You wait after calling it, and while you do, you study the plaque above the button you just pressed, eyes lingering at the very bottom of it.

Basement. Emergency department.

The pitt.

The high-pitched ding! comes faster than you thought it would, and you step aside as the elevator doors slide open to let a handful of people step off. You give the people still inside a polite, “Evening,” and a nod as you get on, then press the button for the basement.

Naturally, and for no other reason than to fuck with you personally, the elevator slides up first.

You close your eyes, braving the sensation of the semi-gentle start-stop as you pass each floor going up - then again going down. By the time you reach the basement, it’s just you and a doctor - female, red hair, frizzy bangs, looking tired as all hell. She rushes past you, file in hand, and you make your way down the hall after her. 

The waiting room is packed, and you’re taken aback by the sheer volume of the voices echoing off the walls, making you feel a bit disoriented as you try to find a way to get where you need to be. Several registration nurses are seated behind reinforced glass and your chest tightens over the fact that that is protection health care providers need. You approach a window that one of the patients just walked away from, clear your throat, and say,

“Um, excuse me–”

“Please, fill this out,” the woman says, pushing a clipboard through the slot at the bottom of the window, “and bring it back to me when you’re ready.”

Gently, you push the clipboard back. “I don’t need medical treatment,” debatable after the overthinking from earlier–

“Then what can I do for ya, hon?” she asks, briefly looking over her shoulder when another staff member sails through the doors behind her. He’s wearing the same charcoal coloured scrubs Robby always wears, and is struggling to pull off a very bloodied pair of gloves.

“I’m looking for, um… Doctor Robinavitch?” 

“Why?” The doctor pipes up from behind the nurse. He finally pulls the gloves off his hands, tosses them into a clinical waste bin and looks at you expectantly as he brushes his fingers through his silvery curls.

Before you elaborate, you raise an eyebrow at the confrontational tone. “I’m here to pick him up.”

The man looks at you, narrows his eyes, then juts his chin out. “And how do you know Doctor Robinavitch?”

“Robby,” you find yourself saying like you’re proving some sort of point about how well you know him, “is…” You pause, try to think of how to convey that he is the guy you decided to shoot your shot with in a record shop and who you’ve been sleeping with for the better part of two months in a way that’s acceptable for the workplace. But there’s steady beeping, the wailing of a baby behind you, a distant scream coming out of the emergency department, the two sets of expectant eyes on you from people who clearly have something better to do than wait for you to- Are you sweating? It feels like you’re sweating. “He’s my boyfriend.” 

The doctor’s eyebrows shoot up so far it would’ve made you laugh if the weight of your words hadn’t just hit you like a fucking truck. For the past week, you had been questioning everything about your relationship and you cracked under the slightest bit of pressure and labeled Robby your boyfriend like you’re two teenagers. 

And at his workplace.

“Is he now?” the doctor asks, a lopsided grin appearing on his face afterwards.

“Abbot,” the nurse says sharply. 

The warning makes your stomach twist. This is just great. As if your panicked slip of the tongue alone wasn’t bad enough, it had to be in front of frequently mentioned fellow attending slash close friend Jack Abbot.

“You know what,” you begin, swallowing thickly and jutting your thumb over your shoulder. “I’ll just wait outside–”

“Hey, hey, hey, no,” Abbot says, his voice gone gentle, raising his hands and looking more like he’s calming an escaped horse than an embarrassed human being. “He’s just finishing up with some patients, I’ll go get him for ya.” And as quickly as he arrived, he disappears again.

“Just take a seat, doll,” the nurse says. You think she’s aiming for pity, but the words are dripping with delight at this turn of events at what’s no doubt the very end of her shift. “I’m sure he’ll be out in a minute.”

You thank her and turn around, looking for an empty chair, but are once again confronted with the sheer amount of people waiting to be seen - it’s fine, you’ll just settle for a hole in the ground to disappear into. Before you have time to rethink every course of action you had taken to get you to this point, starting with frequenting a record shop, Robby sails through the flap doors with Abbot in tow. 

One looks cautious. The other looks endlessly amused. 

Robby’s eyes find you in the crowd in a flash, and he reaches you so quickly it seems like he’s floating, taking you by the arm and dragging you along with him.

“Hi,” you manage while you stumble to keep up.

“Let’s leave?” He says it like a question, but his voice leaves no room for discussion. Moving his hand to the small of your back, he leads you down a different path than you came, out a security door that he opens with a swipe of his badge, into a stairwell marked ‘A’, and quickly up the first flight of stairs.

The moment you’re alone with him, you can practically feel the words making their way up your throat, and before you can stop it, you begin explaining yourself, “You’re upset, I get it. I’m sorry I said… that in front of Abbot. Shouldn’t have done it, definitely will not happen again.” 

Robby’s hand flexes and your words seem to stop him dead in his tracks, feet coming to a halt in the middle of the landing between the staircases. He says nothing, and aside from the way his frown deepens, he stays very still. 

“Listen,” you begin, trying and failing to keep your voice steady and void of sadness, “if you’re really that upset about it, maybe we should–”

“I’m not upset,” he says, turning to face you while he shoves his hands in the pockets of his hoodie.

You scoff, frustrated. Not upset? Sure. In a sweeping manner, you gesture at him from his feet to his crown, and back again, “Then what’s this?”

“I just worked a 12 hour shift in the emergency department, I think I’m allowed to look a little upset,” he scoffs back. “But this…,” he tries to gesture at himself the way you just did, but mostly just gets his face, which, to his credit, does worry you the most, “...is not because I’m upset with you.”

It makes your shoulders slump, but the short-lived sense of relief quickly makes room for guilt. Christ, he’s right. Today alone he’s probably seen things no other human being would see in a lifetime–should see in a lifetime. You should cut him some slack. Another apology is on the tip of your tongue, but Robby speaks first, 

“Saw Abbot’s shit-eating grin and wanted to get you out of there before he started asking you a million annoying que–” His voice dies down, and you can practically see the penny drop. He puts his hands on his hips, narrows his eyes at you, and swipes his tongue over his bottom lip before demanding, “Tell me.”

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. 

Didn’t Abbot tell him? Is Robby messing with you?

You could really use that hole to disappear into right about now…

You shuffle your feet. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me…” Robby takes a step closer so you’re standing toe-to-toe and looks at you expectantly, “…what you told Abbot.”

“I just said I was here to pick you up,” you try to save face, but you can recognize it’s a pathetic attempt; you literally can’t even look at him while you say it.

Robby’s arms cross, his shoulders drawing up as he bows his head and shakes it with an amused huff. “Liar.”

You gasp, “Fuck you, I did say that.”

“Fine,” he’s laughing now, “what else did you say?”

You know you have no choice but to be honest; if you don’t tell him, Abbot will. The mirth on his face helps, maybe he’ll take it as a joke and your crisis of relationship will be averted for the time being. 

“He asked how I knew you. And I… I might have said, ‘He’s… my boyfriend’.” You make your voice go up at the end, purposefully formulating it as a semi-question, like even you don’t remember exactly what you said, then throw in a chuckle for good measure, all in an attempt to take more weight off the revelation.

The silence that follows is deafening; even the emergency department waiting room past the door at the foot of the stairs seems to have gone quiet. A myriad of expressions pass Robby’s face, before it settles on something completely new to you–something completely unreadable. But this time, it’s impossible to look away, not when he swallows thickly, not when his defensive pose falls and his hands ball to fists, clenching and unclenching at his side. Your mind is already formulating its third planned apology of the day, but Robby foils it again. 

“You said that?” His voice is so fucking deep it’s more of a rumble, a slight tremble on the word said.

“Yes.”

“In those words?” he presses. “To Abbot?”

You nod with a sigh, realizing you might as well put all your cards on the table, “And the nur–”

“Am I?” 

Dropping your hands by your side, you sigh. “I don’t know, Robby. You tell me.” Your voice sounds so small, “Are you?”

There’s a sound of heavy fabric hitting the floor - his backpack, you realize - and then he surges forward, a hand anchoring itself at your waist while the other slips behind your head to cushion the way he crashes the both of you into the wall. He kisses you like he never has, with utter desperation, and bite, his teeth closing around your bottom lip before letting his tongue map you out like it’s the first time he gets to do it. Stunned, you clutch onto his arms, try to follow along with him, but he doesn’t give you a chance to catch up. 

“Yeah, I am,” the words come out more like a growl, “I’m your fucking boyfriend.” The ball of anxiety that’s been making a home in your gut explodes, melting into arousal so fast you’d think you did hit your head. It takes you another moment to move with him, moaning at the scrape of his beard against your chin and the flick of his tongue behind your teeth. 

Once your brain finds its connection to your body, all you want is more. So you take, with newfound vigor, a swipe of your tongue along his and a palm cupping the side of his neck, applying pressure in a way that makes him grunt. He pushes you back harder, plastering himself to your front. When he tries to wiggle his hand between your bodies and into your pants, it brings you back to reality for a split second. 

“Robby, fuck, wait–”

“No one’s gonna see,” he slurs. He sounds wrecked already, and you haven’t even done anything but kiss. You would be kind of proud of it if your brain wasn’t melting out of your ears with lust. Spreading your legs to give him more room, you– Wait, shit, focus.

Second split second. 

Closing your hand around his wrist, you start again, “Robby–” 

“No one fucking comes here, need a badge and they all take the elevator, I swear.” He kisses your neck, scrapes his teeth along that spot that makes you sigh. He’s playing so incredibly dirty– “Just… let me finger my girlfriend.”

It’s like you go boneless at the word, the hand he’s been wringing into your jeans slipping under your underwear with ease now that you’ve stopped fighting it. The shriek you let out when his fingers roll roughly over your clit echoes through the empty stairwell before you muffle it by clamping a hand over your mouth. It’s a lot, the emotional whiplash so severe that tears spring into your eyes when a finger dips into your entrance to test the waters.

Robby pulls away, hand and mouth, then brings one to the other. You might actually whine at the loss, and the way he sucks two fingers into his mouth, the thick digits coming back shiny and slick when he pulls them out, all without ever breaking eye contact. Then he’s back to frantic, dry hand pulling at your fly and zipper, and you help him with hurried, awkward moves, all but ripping your pants open to give him more room.

“Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to hold back around you? When you... say stuff like that to people when I’m not around like it’s fucking… easy?” Robby pushes his middle finger into you as far as it’ll go, grunting like he’s enjoying it more than you are. His head tips down, watching how his hand is stuffed beneath the tight, rigid denim; yours falls back, panting up at the spiralling staircases above you, clutching onto the open ends of Robby’s hoodie for dear life when his finger starts pumping inside of you. “When you look so sweet and then get this wet for me?”

You clench around him, leaking into his palm while a groan rumbles from your chest when he adds a second finger. “Then don’t–” he bends them, finds something that makes you quiver, “Fuck, Robby, that’s good. Stop holding back around me.”

His hand curls around your jaw, pulling until your eyes meet; his are wild, pupils blown so wide his irises appear black even in the bright fluorescent hospital lighting.

You take the jump, your stomach flipping in a way that makes it feel like you’re actually in freefall, the admission somehow taking more vulnerability than letting him finger fuck you here of all places. “Stop holding back,” you say, desperately trying to convey that this is bigger than just this moment between you.

And when his hand stills, and he plants a dizzying kiss on your lips, it feels like he does, like he pours everything he can’t say into the simple, long press. You attempt to return the sentiment, slinging your arm around his neck, palming his nape that’s damp with sweat and holding him to you. You stay like this for a long moment, your heart beating so hard and fast that you wonder if Robby can feel it with how tightly you’re pressed together.

You don’t get time to think about if you can feel his, because his fingers slowly start up again between your legs, and he fucks you on his hand, palm grinding up against your clit until you’re crying out into his open mouth, coming hot, and hard, tears of pleasure spilling over your waterline while you tremble in his hold.

There’s nothing but him, his scent, the heat of his body, the stretch of him inside you coming even easier with your orgasm. You can’t breathe but it feels secondary to everything else when he grinds against your thigh, thick and heavy and fucking pulsing with need, trapped behind those cargo pants, and despite the fact that you just came, you feel like you need him more than air.

“Are you gonna put it in?” you ask, voice a little drowsy. “Please?”

The combination of his lazy grin and the flush along his cheeks makes him look somewhat boyish. “Give her one good orgasm and the fear of getting caught is fucked riiiight out, huh?” Robby says - anything but boyish - gently pulling his hand from between your legs while working his own pants open with his free one.

But it sobers you up a little from the lust you had overdosed on from the moment he crashed you into the wall. You go rigid against it now. “Wait. You said–”

“Relax,” he says, and embarrassingly, it’s enough to make you. Enough that you let him spin you around, yank your hips back and pull your pants and underwear down to mid thigh while your palms find the wall. “Wasn’t lying. No one comes here,” you hear him spit, followed by the unmistakably lewd sound of him spreading it around, “except,” he swipes the head of his cock through your messy folds, “for me.” The final word comes out with a punch of air and an oof! from you when he slides all the way inside in one go. He smiles to himself, pauses in consideration, then adds, “Well, and you.”

You laugh at the double entendre–you actually, properly laugh, when you should be focussing on adjusting to the thick spread of his cock. The soft walls of your cunt flutter around him, the plaster under your palms warming under your touch. “Shut up,” you say, but it lacks any bite or threat when your voice is still vibrating with laughter underneath it all. 

“Hmm, no, I– Jesus, your laugh is making it… tight. This isn’t gonna take long.” Something between a chuckle and a grunt comes out when you clench more at his words, and you swear you can feel him shake with it. 

“Then stop laughing,” you beg, a smile of your own spreading across your face when you look at him over your shoulder. “I had something far hotter planned, something like, Please, Robby, I want to walk out of here with your come dripping out of me.”

That gets him, his expression morphing into something a little more concentrated. It definitely breaks his giggles, because he looks down to where you’re connected and groans instead, a little involuntary stutter of his hips making him slide out just a fraction. 

Using your grip on the wall, you arch your back and push against him. “Yeah? Is that doing it for you?” you ask, continuing the gentle ebb and flow of pulling off and pushing back, reveling in the slow drag of him along your sensitive walls, the way his fingers dig into your heated skin.

Robby scoffs. “The mental image of you walking out of here dripping with my come, knowing I’m gonna think about it each time I walk up and down these goddamn stairs, which is only every fucking time I’m at work?” He grunts when you slowly let him fill you again. “Yeah, sweetheart, that’ll… that’ll do it.” 

Well, that shouldn’t make you feel as gooey as it does, but after everything, that might as well happen. 

Biting your lip, you lean your forearms, temple resting where your wrists cross, head twisted back to watch him. There’s a sliver of his belly visible over the swell off your ass, and you can see it tensing as you keep your rhythm steady. 

When he starts meeting you halfway, you wonder briefly if no one else truly comes here, or if at any moment, someone could sail around the corner and find you bouncing your ass off a doctor’s pelvis. It sends a rush of tingles up your body, and maybe you can admit to yourself that at this point, it really wouldn't faze you. The only thing that matters to you now, in this very moment, is the pulse of his cock and the promise of getting filled.

There’s another rush of wetness between your legs at the idea, and Robby inhales sharply through his nose when it makes him slide just a bit deeper, throat bobbing around a heavy swallow… and then he’s right there, with a curse, a groan that rises in volume and a pull of your hips back against his, where he holds you still. You can’t help but whimper at the warm sensation, at how fucking deep he gets as he comes and comes and comes. Heat spreads through your body, something that isn’t exactly an orgasm, but isn’t far off either, and makes your eyes roll back.

It takes a while for both of you to stop pulsing. With a deep sigh, you let your head fall forward, hanging down to observe the squished-together, naked tops of your thighs, your scrunched up pants, and your shoed feet with Robby’s larger ones planted on the outside of them. His hand has drifted up, tracing soft patterns across your back under your shirt that make goosebumps rise across your skin. There is absolutely no fucking reason for this to be so tender right now, but it is, and you kind of don’t want it to end.

But this is a hospital, and not the safe cocoon of either of your apartments, so it has to.

“C’mon,” Robby encourages softly, patting the small of your back, “we should get out of here.” 

Your pussy protests when he pulls out slowly, and you can’t blame her, especially not when you feel achingly empty after. It starts the slow trickle of his spend out of you, the angle you’re bent over at making it slide over your clit. Your body reacts with a lewd squelch, and it only results in more leaking. 

“Fuck, that’s…” Robby lets out a breath that sounds like a whistle, using his thumb and forefinger to spread you open a little more, “...pretty.”

Something disgustingly wrong with him for settling on that word. And with you for enjoying it so much. 

His fingers slide downward, dangerously close to your clit– “God, do not do that if you don’t want it going everywhere,” you warn.

The sound he makes is fond, and he’s quick to listen, letting you go in favour of helping you pull your underwear back up your hips. “Trusting you to keep it right there,” he says, before giving you a flat-handed tap between your legs that covers your entire pussy, the swat landing with the obscene, soppy sound of wet fabric meeting skin. 

A shock of pleasure shoots through your body, making you gasp and rise to your toes. You want to curse him for doing this to you here, where you can’t beg him to do it again until you come a second time - third? - because you could, you absolutely could. Instead, you’re forced to bend down and pull your pants back up your legs with an indignant little wiggle.

When you twist back around, fumbling with the button of your jeans, Robby’s already waiting, ready, safely tucked back into his cargo pants and with his backpack hanging off one of his shoulders. You sniff, hoping-praying that you look even a fraction as composed as he looks so you can leave the place with some dignity at least. 

“You look beautiful,” he says, before he stretches his hand out to you. His comment makes you heat up, your own hand no doubt clammy when you accept. As you let him lead you up the stairs, you try, and fail, to not think about how the fingers he interlocks with yours were deep inside you just minutes ago.

Practiced, routined steps lead you through hallways and corridors, weaving and bobbing through groups of patients, visitors and colleagues alike, until you reach gold-coloured revolving doors and step out into the evening. 

“Will you promise me something?” you ask as you start your trek, joined hands swinging between your bodies. 

You notice that above you, the skies have cleared.

“Just one thing?” Robby asks. “You’re lowballing, I like it.”

You roll your eyes. Your belly flutters. “One thing now.” 

He hums in affirmation.

“I can handle not seeing you on Wednesdays, I don’t mind seeing you at my place more often than at yours, but next time you want to ditch me for Abbot, make up a better excuse than rats.”

Robby lets out a laugh that’s basically just a punch of air. “Oh, I… Yeah. That was not an excuse. Those bad boys are actually down there.”

“What?” It comes out so much more indignant than you want to sound. “No they’re not.”

“Oh, I really do wish they weren’t,” he says, face scrunching up like he suddenly remembers the rats are in the emergency department, and he’s in charge of the emergency department, and this is a problem for tomorrow-Robby.

“Rats? Plural?”

“Plural.”

Immediately, your mind provides you with the mental image of rats in tiny hospital beds. You shake your head with a chuckle, “No wonder your wait times are insane.” Then, looking at him, you ask, “How does that work? Do they come in with wads of cash or do they have a tiny little insurance card? And why do I feel like rats probably have it better, like in general but definitely insurance wise, than we humans do?”

One corner of Robby’s mouth curls up, and he looks at you like he could kiss you. He doesn’t. He doesn’t answer either. Not that you expected him to. Instead, he says, “I didn’t see Jack just for the rat problem. I also talked to him… about you.”

You can feel yourself straightening up. That explains why the good doctor’s eyebrows nearly flew off. The rush of vindication nearly makes you sing, “Ohhhhh-ho-ho, now this I have to hear.” 

Robby closes his eyes, lips pursing slightly with a small shake of his head.

“C’mon, I had to spill,” you tug him against your side, “now you have to spill.”

“I think I spilled plenty.” He leans in, mouth at your ear, “Can you still feel it?”

You groan, your poor cunt clenching around nothing. Yes, you can still feel it. “You never play fair.”

“You like it,” he says.

“I can recognize that my wants and needs in a blindly horny state are not always most beneficial to my well-being once said horny state subsides.”

He snorts. “If it ever does. I think it’s chronic.”

“Is that your official diagnosis, Doctor Robinavitch?”

“‘fraid so. There’s nothing we can feasibly do except for managing the symptoms to make you more comfortable.”

You give him a playful shove, before pressing yourself back against his arm, “You like that I like it. In fact, you like it so much that you didn’t even have the patience to get out of here before–”

“I like you,” he cuts in quietly.

Oh, what the fuck. Case in point, he does not play fair.

Robby trails out a little ahead from where you’re frozen in place, until your arms are stretched out as far as they can go without letting go of each other. The streetlamp just behind him perfectly accentuates the silhouette of his profile as his head tips down: his little quiff, the point of his nose, the scruff around his lips. He retraces his steps until he can face you.

“Told him that I have feelings for someone, but that I was… scared of it. Scared of fucking it up, because that’s what I always do, and that made me actually fuck it up, and I couldn’t stand seeing how I made you feel, but I couldn’t–”

“Robby, stop.” You shake your head, letting go of him to try and find your bearings. “You think I’m not scared?”

“It’s easy for you. You are,” he lets out a bitter laugh, “so much better at this than I am.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you deadpan. Guess he missed the point spectacularly in the stairwell earlier. How someone, someone who is a doctor, can be so smart and so dumb at the same time, you don’t know. “I almost didn’t show up tonight because I was sure you were about to break things off with me because of how you’ve been acting.”

Robby’s head tilts, his jaw ticking as he looks at you with soft, guilty eyes. “Really?”

It takes everything in you to stay focused, because he looks at you as if you’ve wounded him, like you’ve just kicked him while he’s down. 

“It isn’t easy for me,” you redirect the conversation. “None of this ever is, but… when you find something that’s worth it, you try, and… this thing with you makes me want to try.” Satisfied, you nod firmly at your own words, then add, “You like me, I like you, I think we should be together. Like, officially. But if you don’t, you should tell me now.”

The thin line his lips had formed wobbles, before a smile that’s big enough to make the corners of his eyes crinkle in that way you love spreads out across his face. “Look at you, giving me a big speech.”

You deflate with disbelief at how smug he looks. This fucking guy. “Wasn’t that big.”

“You are sooooo better at this than me,” he says, cupping your cheeks with both hands to bring your faces together. The kiss he presses to your lips is soft, so fucking tender that it makes your toes curl in your shoes. “I want to be together,” he says, staying close enough that you can feel his lips brush over yours when he says it. With a teasing lilt that mimics your voice, he adds, “Like, officially.”

“Don’t mock me right now or I’ll break up with you,” you threaten, half-heartedly poking him in the chest, unable to keep the sheer happiness that rockets through your body from creeping into your stern expression.

Robby’s eyes narrow, like he’s considering something. Then he says, “Should we ditch the cinema–?”

You scoff, quickly changing gears, “No.”

“–take a hot shower, order some food–” He kisses you.

“I am never ditching the cinema.”

Another kiss. “–let me eat your pussy until you come at least twice.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “But I think I can make an exception just this once.”

Robby throws his head back and barks out a laugh, “See? Chronic.”

You have to twist your face to the side to keep yourself from laughing, too. Your cheeks already hurt too much from the stupid, happy grin that’s been plastered on your face intermittently throughout this rollercoaster of an evening. Turning your nose up to the sky and closing your eyes like you’re dismissing him, you push past him. 

With a little jog, he catches up to you, slinging an arm around your neck, and using it as leverage to press a kiss to your temple. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know someone very capable of managing your symptoms.”

“Pretty sure he’s my enabler,” you grin, reaching for his hand where it hangs off your shoulder. “Hey, so what’s the big plan you and Abbot came up with to solve the rat problem?”

“Exterminator, once they find the time,” Robby sighs. “Until then, Whitaker, one of the medical students on rotation. He caught a couple of them,” he snickers, “Santos calls him the Pied Piper of Pittsburgh.”

You snort, listening as Robby talks more, about his co-workers, about the curious cases that were wheeled into the emergency department today, and you let him lead you into the opposite direction of the cinema and towards his apartment instead. 

In a quieter alley, you pass one of the street-level apartments, music bleeding from one of the windows and into the street. There’s soft, twinkling sounds, cresting drums and piano parts, an electric guitar that cuts in, 

…and I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might…

Your mouth curves into a smile at the song.

Yeah.

Fitting.

– – – – –

Thanks for reading! Please come say hi and/or share your thoughts via ask/messages/reblogs/whatever you feel comfortable with! Also, if you have any song suggestions for my Dr. Robby playlist, send them over, I’d love to add them!

[eicsferrari]

premiere - cs55 smau

summary: yn is paul mescal's sister. her and carlos meet at a premiere

faceclaim: madison cline

a/n: i had this in the drafts for too long

masterlist

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal my twin brother is in a movie or whatever

tagged: bigbreadpedlar

♡liked by yourbestfriend and others

view all comments

yourbestfriend my wife💍

user14 she mugged him so bad

user9 he's so hot i need him😩

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal posted a story

→last night i met the most GORGEOUS and funny man we talked for a while but I don't know his name!! someone pls help me find him

→this is him if you know him ask him to slide into those dms thank you

replies

↪ yourbestfriend ON MAIN that's crazy

↪ yourbestfriend also that's f1 driver carlos sainz

ynmescal thanks babe

ynmescal brb searching his ig

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal don't mind me, just casually posting more pictures from last night

♡liked by gracieabrams and others

view all comments

ynmescal and now we wait ...

user3 mother i love you

user2 the last slide kskdkd

user11 posting this after sharing his picture on stories and following him iconic behavior

user17 tbh i too would do this if i had a chance with a f1 driver

carlossainz55 hola again 👋🏼

ynmescal hola😊

user7 it CANT be that simple

user18 ig it is when you are pretty😔

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal posted a story

→guess who has a date tonight

replies

↪ yourbestfriend NOW you use close friends

ynmescal it worked, didn't it?

ynmescal posted a story

જ ♡ જ

sainzupdates carlos leaving the paddock today

view all comments

user8 who is she?

user81 i think ynmescal, she was at the paddock with her brother paul. carlos commented her picture about a month ago

user35 this is such a pr relationship🙄🙄

જ ♡ જ

carlossainz55 good company today

♡liked by charlesleclerc and others

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user89 paul, carlos and charles together this is a big day for annoying people (me)

user55 tag her! we know who the good company is, you are not smooth

user52 the casual post oh to be young, rich and in love ...

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal this f1 thing is fun

♡liked by lando and others

view all comments

user29 pretty girl

yourbestfriend i bet it is🙄

yn ☺️

user37 is by any chance your boyfriend single?

ynmescal luckily no!

user37 and your brother? i'm not picky!

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal only bought this dress so you could take it off

bigbreadpedlar is this post necessary?

yn at least I don't have one night stands and run away from them at the park👊

gracieabrams IJBOL

carlossainz55 what's ijbol?

yn i just burst out laughing

bigbreadpedlar i'm too old for this shit

carlossainz55 same

gracieabrams look, millennials everyone point and laugh🫵

user19 are they really selling as a love story how she took a photo of him without permission and posted it?? stalker behavior she was so desperate to be a wag

user61 get a life

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carlossainz55 haters can choke

tagged: ynmescal

user he never posts his girlfriends omg this is serious

lando pic credits?

carlossainz55 no

ynmescal ❤️

જ ♡ જ

ynmescal quality time with my favorite people

tagged: gracieabrams, carlossainz55, bigbreadpedlar

user82 i love everything about this crossover

user68 carlos and paul are so boyfriend coded

yn i swear sometimes it feels like they are the ones dating, they have bike dates every day

gracieabrams ily

ynmescal i love you moreeee

carlossainz55 if only they knew why we were so tired in the last pic...

ynmescal CARLOS

bigbreadpedlar THAT'S MY SISTER

carlossainz55 i meant cycling!

ynmescal no u didn't

carlossainz55 no i didn't🤭

જ ♡ જ

Taglist: @justaf1girl @anamiad00msday @formoola1fan @2bormaybenot @searecs @rana030 @multifantasic70 @yourmommyagone22 @primadonaprincess55 @hoeforlifee @literallysza @nichmeddar @in-the-marina-trench @ahgase99 @gigigreens @danielricroll @harrysdimple05

[zedleaked]

[[Geez Louise!]] WHAT YEAR IS IT? AM I BACK IN THE [21st]??? I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THESE LONG NOSED FREAKS AGAIN SINCE I FOUND OUT THEY HAD NEW THINGS TO SAY LET'S TAKE A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE AND TALK ABOUT SPAM AND HIS COWORKERS!

NEW CHAPTER 4 ADDISON INTERACTIONS:

LET'S START WITH THE [NEO] [NEW]: IN CHAPTER 4 THE ADDISONS GET NEW DIALOGUE! EACH TIME YOU REENTER THEIR AREA, THE ADDISONS AT THEIR BOOTH CHANGE! HERE'S A COLLECTION OF THOSE INTERACTIONS.

STARTING WITH: PINK AND ORANGE... WHO COULD THAT PINK FELLA BE POSSIBLY REFERRING TO...

NEXT UP: ORANGE AND YELLOW! I THINK YOU MIGHT WANT TO RECONSIDER THAT ONE, YELLOW. + MISTAKE ME IF I'M WRONG BUT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME WE'VE SEEN YELLOW ADDISON'S FRONT SPRITE IN GAME! YOU COULD ONLY FIND THEIR BACK SPRITE BACK IN THE TRASHZONE [WHICH WE WILL TALK ABOUT LATER]

NOW: YELLOW AND BLUE! FUNNY THAT YELLOW IS THE ONE TALKING ABOUT TEA BECAUSE PINK IS THE TEA VENDOR... ALSO BLUE'S DIALOGUE OK MAN.

BLUE AND PINK: THIS ONE IS PROBABLY MY FAVOURITE #HUGYOURSELF IF YOU COULDN'T TELL BY MY SCRIBBLES, THERE ARE A FEW SUBTLE REFERENCES TO SPAMTON/HIS DIALOGUE WHEN YOU SPEAK WITH THE ADDISONS BUT WHATEVER COULD THIS MEAN?! ARE MY KIDS SAFE?! HOW ABOUT WE DIAL IT BACK A LITTLE...

SPAMTON AND HIS "FRIENDS":

THE YEAR IS [2021] DELTARUNE CHAPTER 2 JUST CAME OUT, HOW TIME FLIES!!! [[Oh god, it's so far back]]. YOU MEET THIS ODD SPAMTON GUY, AND HE'S SHAPING UP TO BE QUITE THE CHARACTER! YOU ASK HIM ABOUT HIS HISTORY, HIS FRIENDS BUT...

THIS IS ALL HE HAS TO SAY. HE DOESN'T NEED THEM.

ASKING THE ADDISONS ABOUT SPAMTON:

CLEARLY, THE PAST IS FAR, FAR BEHIND HIM. BUT YOU CAN'T HELP BUT BE NOSY [HAHA]. THESE ADDISON FELLAS AROUND TOWN SEEM TO RESEMBLE THE GUY QUITE A BIT, WHY DON'T WE ASK THEM INSTEAD?

...STILL, VAGUE RADIO SILENCE. FOR WHATEVER REASON THEY DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT HIM.

THEY MUST'VE KNOWN EACH OTHER, RIGHT? THERE'S NO WAY THEY DON'T. HECK, HOW DO YOU EXPLAIN THIS MANNEQUIN THEY LUG AROUND EVERYWHERE THAT BEARS AN UNCANNY RESEMBLANCE TO SPAMTON? NOT ONLY THAT IT LOOKS MORE AND MORE LIKE HIM THE MORE TIME PASSES DO THEY MISS HIM?

SPAMTON HIMSELF ALSO SEEMS TO REACT TO THE MANNEQUIN, IF YOU TRY TO GO THROUGH WITH HIS DEAL AND HAVE IT ON YOU, HE DOES NOTABLY LESS DAMAGE TO YOU... DOES HE RECOGNISE IT?

NOT ONLY THAT, YOU CAN ATTEMPT TO PUT SPAMTON HIMSELF INSIDE IT, HOWEVER, HE DOESN'T LET IT HAPPEN.

SPAMTON NEO:

SO, WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU PUSH EVERYONE TO THEIR LIMITS? COMPLETELY [FREEZE] EVERYONE WITH YOUR DISPLAY? WELL, WHEN SPAMTON ACHIEVES HIS [NEO] FORM HE SAYS THIS: JUST THE IDEA OF CALLING FOR HELP, CALLING OUT FOR THOSE WHO DO NOT CARE FOR YOU, IT MAKES HIM SICK.

HE TALKS ABOUT MUTTERING YOUR LOST FRIENDS NAMES AT THE BOTTOM OF A DUMPSTER, VERY OBVIOUS PROJECTION... AND IT MATCHES UP WITH WHAT HE SAYS IN HIS INTRODUCTION TOO... HIS FRIENDS ABANDONING HIM [FOR THE SLIME] HIS SALES GOING DOWN THE [DRAIN] LIVING IN A GODDAMN GARBAGE CAN.

TRASHZONE EPILOGUE:

...BUT... WHAT IF YOU WANTED... MORE?

HEAD OVER TO YOUR LOCAL [TRASH HEAP] AND FIND...

THE ADDISONS, WILLING TO SHARE ALL THAT THEY KNOW.

SPAMTON WAS AN ADDISON LIKE THEM BACK IN THE DAY, JUST UNFORTUNATE. THERE SEEMS TO BE A LITTLE SYMPATHY THERE, AT LEAST ON YELLOW'S PART.

THEY GATHER HERE AFTER YOUR FIGHT WITH SPAMTON NEO, BY THE WAY. THERE SEEM TO BE NO OTHER TRIGGERS FOR THIS INTERACTION OTHER THAN FIGHTING HIM. HOW DID THEY KNOW? DID YOUR CURIOUS QUERIES ABOUT THEIR OLD CO-WORKER LEAD THEM TO THE GARBAGE TO... REMINISCE?

A BLUE ADDISON REVEALS THAT SPAMTON AND THE REST OF THE ADDISONS WOULD MEET UP AT THE CYBER GRILL [I WISH THIS WAS A PLACE YOU COULD VISIT IN GAME],, SPAMTON WOULD FANTASIZE ABOUT MAKING IT BIG ONE DAY,, THIS SUGGESTS THEY WERE ALL CLOSE AT ONE POINT, HANGING OUT, HAVING FUN...

THE ORANGE ADDISON TALKS ABOUT HOW SPAMTON CONTACTED A CERTAIN SOMEONE. THIS PERSON MUST'VE BEEN GIVING HIM PLENTY OF ADVICE BECAUSE SPAMTON WOULDN'T GET OFF THE PHONE. THIS ALSO SHOWS HOW EVEN THE ADDISONS THEMSELVES SUSPECT THAT THIS PHONE CALL MAY HAVE BEEN SUPERNATURAL

THE PINK ADDISON TALKS ABOUT SPAMTON'S SUDDEN RISE IN SUCCESS, HOW HIS SEEMINGLY EFFORTLESS POPULARITY MADE EVERYONE JEALOUS, TO THE POINT OF LEAVING HIM, NOT VISITING HIM AT THE GRILL BECAUSE WELL... HE'S RICH AND DIDN'T NEED THEM ANYMORE... RIGHT?

THE OTHER YELLOW ADDISON PIPES ON ABOUT ALL OF HIS SUCCESSFUL DEALS- [WHAT IS *HE* DOING THERE]- BUT... EVENTUALLY THOSE ALL SLIPPED THROUGH, ALL CAME CRASHING DOWN ON HIM IN AN INSTANT... ALMOST LIKE WHATEVER WAS HELPING HIM JUST... ABANDONED HIM TOO.

...SPAMTON HAD TO GET EVICTED FROM THE MANSION, THROW AWAY EVERYTHING HE HAD BUILT UP. WHEN ONE OF THE BLUE ADDISONS WENT TO FIND HIM... AND THEY WERE MET WITH WAS A PHONE LEFT OFF IT'S HANDLE... AND WHEN THEY PUT THE PHONE UP TO THEIR EAR... THEY GOT NOTHING BUT GARBAGE NOISE.

SPAMTON AND THE ADDISONS NEVER FAIL TO DESTROY ME, THEY WERE A HUGE PART OF MY ART BACK IN THE DAY. I TRULY BELIEVE THEM ABANDONING SPAMTON OUT OF JEALOUSY WAS THE BEGINNING OF THAT MAN'S UNDOING. THEY COULDN'T EVEN BEGIN TO COMPREHEND THE CONSEQUENCES. THE TOTAL BITTERNESS THAT GREW IN THAT PUPPET AFTER THEIR BETRAYAL, THAT LEAD HIM ON THE PATH TO ABSOLUTE WICKEDNESS. IF HE HAD AT LEAST *ONE* OF THEM TO FALL ONTO AFTER HIS MARKET CRASH MAYBE THINGS WOULD HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT.

BUT HE MADE TOO MANY ENEMIES.

HIS EGO WAS TOO BIG.

SPAMTON'S FATE:

ONE OF THE LAST TIMES THE ADDISONS DIRECTLY MENTION SPAMTON IS IN THE SPAMTON SWEEPSTAKES, I AM LIKE 90% SURE THIS IS ONE OF THE ADDISONS SPEAKING HERE. THEIR JEALOUSY EXPRESSED AT THE BEGINNING, THEIR WANT TO HAVE WHAT HE HAD... I FEEL THAT'S A CLEAR SIGN AS TO WHO WROTE THIS

THEY SEEM TO HAVE THEIR REASONS TO VOTE FOR EITHER SIDE, CONSIDERING THEMSELVES ONE OF THE DECIDERS OF SPAMTON'S FATE ALONG WITH US. FOR SILENCE, THEY SAY THAT MAYBE SOMEONE ELSE DESERVES THE FAME MORE THAN HIM. FOR FREEDOM, THEY ACKNOWLEDGE THEIR TREATMENT OF SPAMTON...

CONCLUSION:

THE ADDISONS, MUCH LIKE SPAMTON HIMSELF, HAVE PUT THE PAST BEHIND THEM, REFUSING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE MAN AND EVEN IF THEY DO, THEY DIVERT THE CONVERSATION QUICKLY... COMPARED TO TENNA, WHO COPES BY LOUDLY EXPRESSING HIS HATRED, TENNA IS MUCH MORE ATTACHED TO THE PAST THAN THE ADS.

NOWADAYS, THEY SEEM TO BE USING SPAMTON'S OLD PHRASES, AS SHOWN IN THE CHAPTER 4 CASTLE TOWN DIALOGUE... NOW THAT MOST OF THEM HAVE LIKELY MOVED ON FROM HIM, THEY'VE BEEN TRYING TO USE HIS TRICKS IN AN ATTEMPT TO GAIN SUCCESS LIKE HE DID. EVEN TAKING A JOB FOR TENNA.

THESE GUYS MEANT A LOT TO ME WHEN I WAS YOUNGER IT MADE ME JUMP WHEN I SAW THEM IN CHAPTER 4 THE TRAGEDY OF THE ADDISONS NEVER FAILS TO MAKE MY HEART HURT AND REMIND ME OF OLDER TIMES... THANKS FOR READING MY THREAD ABOUT THEM, I HOPE THIS MADE YOU LIKE THEM JUST A LITTLE MORE... <3

[welostheplot]

── blinging on my hotline

a drabble about phone/facetime sex w/ abby (title taken from doja cat's cyber sex).

content: MDNI 18+, slight dom!reader x slight sub!abby, phone sex/facetime sex, dirty talk, a bit of guided masturbation, reader described as having a pussy

word count: 833 (i'm new to this, okay!!)

author's note: baby's first smut! i'm feeling extremely shy about this... but i figured the only way to improve at writing smut is to actually practice. i hope it's at least halfway decent!

you're on the phone with abby when your ears suddenly pick up on the swish of something moving repeatedly against a bedsheet, huffing breaths, and stifled, choked back groans on the other end of the line.

it makes you pause, your rant about that one annoying coworker (who always seems to be the topic of your on-call catchups with her these days) suddenly way less important.

you ask a tentative "hey, are you alright baby?" and are met with a beat of silence before she groans out "yesjustpleasekeeptalkingfuck–" and then its clear:

the poor thing got so worked up hearing the sleepy lilt of your voice she just couldn't help but get herself off to your voice over the phone as she listened to you yap on about your day.

and you think to yourself why let her have all the fun?

you immediately pick up the phone (that was sat locked on the pillow next to your head, intended to stay like that all night while you very innocently slept on the phone together, mind you) and press the button to facetime.

what greets you when she accepts the facetime request is definitely a sight for sore eyes:

she's naked. at least from the chest up, which is as far as you can see from the angle she's got the phone held at, camera shaking slightly from the efforts of her other arm which is clearly hard at work if the rapid shifting of her right shoulder is any indication. what's going on below her waist isn't shown, but it doesn't take a genius to figure it out and you're already getting wet at the thought of it.

her bottom lip (which looks like it's been gnawed near raw from her attempts to hold back her moans this whole time) is clamped firmly behind her top row of teeth and her eyes are hazy, shifting rapidly across the screen of her phone as she drinks in the sight of you all cozy in your blankets and hair bed-ruffled.

her chest heaves as another choked back groan attempts to punch its way out of her throat— a raw, primal reaction to the mere sight of you.

you weren't even trying to appear sexy (or sound sexy on the call, for that matter). apparently, just your presence alone was enough to get her humping her hand, hips bucking beyond her control as she chased her release.

"holy shit you look so fucking hot baby," she mutters, eyes rolling slightly back into her skull as her shoulder shifts even faster and her movements become more rapid and desperate. "that pretty face is gonna make me cum."

and as much as you'd like to drag this out—make her wait as you slipped your own hand into your sleep shorts so you could cum together—it's obvious that she'd been at it for a while. honestly, it turned you on even more to know that while you were innocent and ignorant, chatting on about the happenings of your day, her hand was shoved into her boxers as she got herself off to the sound your voice.

"yeah?" you tease, and it's said almost mockingly. "is my baby going to cum just from the sight of me? i haven't even done anything!"

you can admit there's an intentional tone to your words; you're egging her on, knowing the hints of degradation are what she wants when she's feeling particularly needy like this, even if she's too proud to admit it out loud.

it sparks a sharp blossom of shame in the center of her chest, cheeks burning as she nods frantically. "fuck yes... yeah.. hah–" she's panting now, "yeah i'ms'closebabyplease–" her words begin to slur together as she hurdles closer to the edge.

"mmmmfff-" you can't help but groan a little in response to that, your own thighs pressing together for some sort of relief. she really must've worked herself up if she's begging like that and it turns you on. "thaaat's it, babe. cum for me."

she seems to momentarily forget herself, letting out an uncharacteristically high-pitched whimper that thins out into silence for one...

...two...

...three beats as she dangles on the edge—

—and then her orgasm slams into her like a freight train.

a gritted, strained "fuuuuuuuck" is heard and her eyes go unfocused, mouth hanging slack as she works herself through it, that ever-shifting right shoulder finally going still while her hips take over, grinding hard into her own palm.

you wait patiently, watching the camera jolt and shake during the come-down process, your hand skimming over your chest and trailing past your tummy to reach and push your shorts down and off.

and you're delighted to see that lazy, post-orgasmic grin slide clean off her face only to be replaced with a heated, lustful gaze when you angle your phone right in front of your pussy, delicately spreading yourself open with the fingers of your other hand.

"it's my turn now, baby."

[notarmedandnotdangerous]

+18 mdni! faux innocence; a fic where you're the newest member of the thunderbolts*, and bucky tries to bed you the entire week, thinking you were a virgin. boy, was he so wrong.

cw: faux innocent!dom!m!reader, sub!bucky, reader acts like he's oblivious, reader is so fucking condescending, rough (?) sex, fingering, slight overstimulation, use of toys (fleshlight), missionary/mating press, slight stomach bulge, bucky has a size kink, creampie reader is quite controlling, attempted edging (?)

word count: >5k

- part 1 - part 2

!! @swiftie-fault

a/n: everyone's begging so its out early HAHA also bucky gets fucking whiplash from your tone change and its hilarious anyways this is filthy

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

the next day, you woke up early. you hummed under your breath as you pulled the vinyl record from the turntable, careful not to leave fingerprints on the edges. the sleeves are laid out on your carpet in neat rows, while you flipped through them slowly, fingers trailing over the worn cardboard corners like you’re picking out wine for a quiet night in. you were calm.

but bucky wasn’t.

he barged into your room, jaw clenched, and looking wired, like he hadn’t slept. he doesn’t say anything at first, just stands near the doorway as if he was trying to figure out which version of you he was talking to.

you glance up at him, smiling softly.

“hey. morning, sergeant.”

that’s what breaks him.

“you think you’re funny?”

“depends who’s laughing. what are you talking about?”

“cut the shit.”

“..sorry?” you blink innocently.

bucky storms forward, fast. he stops a few feet away from you, like he’d get burned if he stood too close.

“you’ve been pretending all week.”

“pretending?”

“yes, don’t do..” he gestured at you. “that.”

“do what?” you acted confused.

“i’ve been throwing myself at you all fucking week.” his voice was so low it almost came out as a growl.

you tilted your head, and slowly set the vinyl down beside the others.

“i flirted with you, touched you, and you didn’t even flinch, just smiled like i was cute!” he cuts himself off, breath shaky.

“i thought we were just getting along.”

“bullshit.” bucky scoffs.

“you’re a touchy guy, i figured you were.. affectionate.” you gave a helpless shrug.

he groaned.

“you’re really mad about being friendly?” you raised your eyebrows.

“and last night, you said all that like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the filthiest fucking thing anyone’s ever said to me! now you’re in here listening to records like you didn’t just fry my fucking brain?” he sputtered.

you blink slowly.

“did i?”

“yes! for fuck’s sake, you whispered it like you were reading me a fucking bedtime story!”

“must’ve had a few drinks.” you hummed.

“don’t do that. don’t fucking gaslight me.”

“wow, big word. is that what i’m doing?” you offered a faint smile, grabbing the back of your neck with your hand.

“you’re not innocent, i see you.” bucky ran a hand through his hair. “you knew the whole damn time.”

“i.. was being polite?”

“polite? polite?! you told me i’d be begging you for more, and acted like nothing happened the moment yelena came back!”

you were quiet. then finally, you sigh, a soft little surrender.

“..worth a try.” you press your fingers to your temples.

bucky goes still.

“what..?”

“playing dumb. you were enjoying it so much.” you cross the room slow, getting closer towards him. “i thought i’d let you have your fun, let you think you were in charge.” you stop in front of him.

he blinks.

“i wanted to see how far you’d go before you snapped.” you sighed. “guess we hit that point, huh?”

bucky was silent, and his hands were shaking. his whole face was flushed, not from rage, but from the slow realisation that he wasn’t the one in charge.

“you-” he took in a deep breath. “what the fuck are you?”

“not as sweet as you thought.” you smiled.

he looks at you as if he had just seen a ghost, or something far worse than that, something that sees everything, and stays quiet until it’s ready to pounce.

“you’re not mad because i didn’t notice, you’re mad because i did.”

bucky didn’t respond, he didn’t know how to.

you leaned in slightly, and whispered.

“still want to be on top, sergeant?” you winked.

the question hangs between the both of you.

bucky blinks like he didn’t hear you right. then, something shifts behind his eyes. his spine straightens, his jaw clenches, and he steps forward.

“you talk big for someone who’s been playing dumb all week.” he leans down slow, crowding into your personal space. his palm brushes your side, thumb dragging along your waist like he means to take the lead. “careful. keep talking like that, and i might show you what i can actually do.”

you smile, small, barely-there. then your hand slides between the both of you. you hook your fingers into his belt loops, and yank him in tight.

his breath stutters.

“you really want to see what happens when i stop holding back?”

bucky tried to not show it, he really did. but the way his lips parted, the way his pupils were blown wide betrayed him completely.

“you think i didn’t notice how you stared every time i rolled my sleeves up? how you somehow always manage to position yourself behind me every time i bent over slightly?” you spoke, hand curling gently around the back of his neck, letting your lips ghost over his pulse point. you could feel his heartbeat spike, it was adorable. “you thought i was sweet.” you drag your teeth against his neck, and his knees almost buckled right there, and then.

“you’re not as scary as you think you are-” he tries to play it cool.

“aren’t i?” you hum. you back him up against the wall, then slotted your thigh in between his, just enough to feel the ‘problem’ growing.

bucky’s fingers grip your bicep like he’s not sure whether he’s trying to steady you, or himself.

“you wanted control? then take it, sergeant.” you leaned in. “come on, show me. do something brave.”

he doesn’t do anything, because he can’t. he’s blinking fast now, lips parted, chest rising, and falling a little too quick. there was fear in his expression, not real fear, but wide-eyed panic, the kind that hits when you poke the bear, and it bares its teeth instead of running.

you lean back just to let him breathe.

”didn’t expect me to be a fucking freak, did you? thought i’d be easy?”

bucky’s lips part, but there wasn’t any sound.

“poor thing.” you grinned. then you leaned in, and kissed him, slow, and gentle. your lips pressed against his, just once.

but after a minute, he pulls back, clearly frustrated.

“stop that. stop holding back.” he whispers.

you blink.

“i want you, the real you. not whatever sweet little version of yourself you think i can handle.”

“you sure?”

“for fuck’s sake, yes.”

something shifts behind your gaze, it’s subtle, but he feels it.

the next kiss you give bucky was rougher, messier, more teeth than tongue. your hand tightens on his hips, while the other trails down to his thigh, and grips. you walked him backward, slowly, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of your bed, and he dropped without thinking.

“spread your legs, bucky.”

and he does, instinctively.

you climbed onto the bed to settle between them, and kiss down his jaw, stopping to nibble below his ear.

“you want the real me? the part of me that doesn’t pretend to be gentle?” you bit into his neck, sucked a dark mark right into his collarbones, and he gasps. “then shut up, and take what you asked for. don’t whine now.”

you push him back, so that he was laid back against the pillows. your hand slips under his shirt, and you drag your nails across his stomach.

the moment your nails bit into the skin of bucky’s stomach, he moans. he tried to cover his mouth with the back of his hand, and failed miserably.

“that all it takes?” you hum, pulling off his shirt. then you kiss down to his chest, and he’s panting now.

he swears he’s feeling a little dizzy.

“is this what you wanted?”

“yes, fuck, yes.”

you gripped his thigh, hard, and he mewls.

“still think i’m soft?”

bucky’s breath hitches. he tries to respond, but couldn’t.

you press your hand against his cock through his sweats, only to find out that he’s rock hard.

he whines at the contact when you drag your palm slowly over him.

“i tried to be gentle,” you murmur. “tried to give you time, but you wanted this.”

“i-i didn’t think it’d be like this-” he murmurs breathlessly.

you hummed, dragging your fingers up his ribs.

“too much?”

“no- fuck no. just didn’t think i’d be this into it.”

“that’s because you had no idea what i was.” you shrug. “you do now.”

your mouth was everywhere, on his neck, ribs, hipbones. you were marking him up like it’s your name he should wear on his dog tags.

bucky’s trembling beneath you, the band of his sweatpants shoved down just enough to give you access to everything you need.

you hadn’t even fucked him yet, and he already looks ruined.

“god, your mouth..” he gasps, fingers tightening in the sheets.

“told you. i gave you every chance to run, but you chose to stay. that’s on you.”

“should’ve- fuck, should’ve done this sooner-”

“oh?” you curled your hand around his cock, slow, and tight. fuck, they were huge.

bucky’s entire body arches at that, and you bit gently at his nipple just to feel him twitch again.

“you asked for me to stop pretending, and i’m not planning on disappointing you.”

he gasped.

you glanced down, and hummed.

“oh, look how small you are in my hand.”

bucky lets out a strangled little whine, soft, and involuntary. his thighs tensed where they were spread, trembling just slightly. his head lolls to the side, eyes fixed on the wall like it might save him.

“aw. whats wrong?” you cooed. “thought you were big, thought you could take it.”

he shook his head frantically.

“i can. fuck, i-”

“then look. eyes on me.”

“don’t make me- please.” his voice was shredded.

you tighten your grip slightly, just enough to make him hiss.

“look.”

he doesn’t.

“i said, look.” you leaned in, and whispered.

something in your tone cut through bucky like a wire snapping, and his gaze flicks down.

big mistake.

instantly, his whole body jolts. a broken moan tumbles out of his mouth, and his thighs jerk to close, but your knees press firm against his spread thighs, keeping him open. he stares, and sees the obscene contrast of your hand around him, your palm swallowing the base, your thumb dragging slow over the tip.

it doesn’t make sense. bucky wasn’t small. he’s not.

he knows what he’s working with, he always had. enough past partners, mostly from the 40’s, have moaned about it, there were enough ego-boosts, casual brags, and certainty.

but the moment your hand wrapped around him? suddenly all of that didn’t matter.

“fuck- fuck. please, i’ll cum- don’t..”

you hum.

“already?”

bucky let out another whimper, teeth sinking into his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. his hands were fisting the sheets under him, his hips kept twitching up like they wanted it.

you stroked him with a steady rhythm, firm, practiced.

he moans, and tries to rut into your fist.

you pinned his hip down with one hand, and continued, thumb dragging over the tip, smearing pre-cum all over it.

“going to cum already?”

“no- fuck, maybe-”

you let go, and he whines, entire body jolting forward.

“too soon, you’re not ready.”

“please, please- i’ve been so good-”

“you’ve been a menace all fucking week, bucky.” you kissed his neck. “throwing yourself at me like a slut. what happened to all that confidence, hm?”

bucky shudders when you say his name.

you kiss your way down to his stomach, then lick a stripe up his cock, and he lets out the most pathetic noise.

“thought i was the sub, hm?” you murmur. “remember that?”

he nods, completely dazed, and drunk on the shame.

you wrapped your mouth around his cock, taking your time. you gave him slow sucks, deliberate swirls of your tongue, holding him down when he tries to thrust.

“fuck- please, i-” bucky’s loud now. he was a complete mess, gasping, and twisting the sheets as he writhes under you.

you pull off, letting a line of spit connect the tip of his cock to your lips.

“not yet.”

bucky almost sobs.

you press a kiss to his inner thigh, letting your teeth graze against the tender skin.

“you’re shaking.”

“you’re insane.” he breathes.

you chuckled, taking off your sweats before crawling back up again, and pinned his wrists above his head.

“can’t tap out now, you asked for this.” you press your cock in between his cheeks, just the weight of it, and he freezes.

‘oh my fuck.’

‘there’s no way that’s fitting inside me.’

that’s all he could think about, because you’re so fucking thick. you haven’t even pushed in yet, you’re just there, teasing him.

you reach down between the both of your bodies, and stroke yourself slowly against him, base to tip, dragging the full weight of it across his cheeks.

bucky gasps every single time, thighs twitching wider like his body was trying to take more without thinking.

“you couldn’t even handle my hand on your cock, what do you think this is going to do to you, sweetheart?” you press closer, cock sliding against him again, and his back arches.

then you shift, and he sees it.

his breath caught.

he wasn’t prepared. he thought he was, he thought he had some idea, but he didn’t.

‘fuck. i’m not walking tomorrow.’

what’s worse was that he didn’t care. not if it meant he got to feel you from the inside.

he knows he’s finished.

“relax, need to open you up properly.”

bucky tried, he really did. but your fingers were big, not painful, not even rough, just wide, and insistent.

you pushed in slowly, letting him adjust, murmuring praise in his ear while his body fought to loosen up. you pressed in one finger, then two, crooking them just right against his sweet spot.

“shit- fuck, i-” his head dropped back before he could even continue his sentence.

“i know, it’s a stretch isn't it?” you kissed his cheek. “have to get you ready, can’t ruin you too fast.”

bucky let out the most broken sound, because he knows he’s not ready. he’s clenching down, fluttering, and drooling around your fingers, but you’re still gentle, still preparing him like he’s fragile, like it wasn’t already too much for him.

“bet you’ve never taken something like this before, hm?” you whispered.your cock pressed against the slick mess your fingers were making. you weren’t even inside him yet, but it was enough to make him cry.

god, bucky wanted it so bad. he wanted to be stretched open, folded in half, filled to the brim, all while you murmured filth in his ear. he was bent open, and trembling. his legs wide, muscles taut, hole stretched from your fingers, but not ready. he never could be, not for this.

you lined yourself up, press the tip of your cock against him, he jerks, whimpering before you’re even inside.

“shh, you’re doing so good.” you murmured sweetly, like you’re not about to break him. “look at you, so soft, so obedient. you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

he moans, high, and wrecked. you had him in missionary, so he’s gripping your shoulders like it’ll help.

“you’re so fucking tight, gripping me already, and i’m not even in yet.” you chuckled, pressing in slowly, but not gentle, just enough that bucky feels the push, the stretch, every inch of you as you force your way inside.

“fuck- so.. b-big- nnh..”

you don’t stop talking though.

“mm, fuck. feel that? that’s just the tip, sweetheart. still so much left to go. going to be a good boy, and take it for me?”

he whines, tries to speak, and fails.

“that’s it, breathe for me. let me stretch you out, fuck. you were made for this.” you sink in deeper.

and bucky fucking breaks. he clenches around you, and you choke.

“oh you like that, don’t you?” you sneer. “filthy little thing. bet you’d take anything i give you. you wouldn’t even think twice.”

his hands scramble for something, anything. his mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

“yeah, that’s what i thought. just a hole to be filled, you were fucking made for this.” you’re halfway in, and he’s already drooling.

he’s blinking up at you like he’s not sure where he is anymore. all you did was smile at him.

“there we go. come on, sweetheart, take all of me. thought you could handle it, remember?” you continued, reaching deeper inside him, and he wails. “look at that, can’t even answer me, can you? poor thing, too full to think, can’t even understand what i’m saying to you.”

it’s true, bucky can’t comprehend a single word. every word you say blurs into the static. all he can feel is you, pressing in deeper, and deeper. his hole’s fluttering, stretched obscenely around your cock, and his own cock is leaking pathetically against his stomach, untouched.

“aw, dumb already? i haven’t even fucked you yet.” you sigh.

“fuck, i- oh my god-” he moans, helplessly, and your smile turns wicked.

“that’s my good boy. all full, all dumb, just the way i like you.”

his legs try to close around you, but you don’t let him.

you press forward again, finally bottoming out.

bucky screams. his thighs shake violently, and his head drops back. his jaw slack, mouth open like he’s trying to breathe, but can’t. his hands scrambled to hold onto your bicep, trying to ground himself.

“oh sweetheart, you should’ve seen your face.” you haven’t moved yet, and he’s already trembling like he’s going to cum. his hands gripped at your biceps, stomach flipping from the stretch, cock drooling against his own belly without a single touch. he feels you everywhere. inside him, against him, holding him down.

and then, you thrust. once, deep, slow enough to feel, and he breaks.

bucky’s body jerks, his mouth opens wide in a silent sob, and then he cums. without a single touch to his cock, just from the feeling of you filling him, and the sound of your voice as you drag it out of him.

“aw, didn’t even last a single thrust?” you whisper, tone thick with mock-pity. “squirted all over yourself.”

“i-i didn’t mean to- fuck, i just- aah..” he moans, wrecked, and helpless.

“fucking mess already.” you coo. “i was thinking about being nice, taking it slow, but clearly your body doesn’t want that.” you draw your hips back, just enough to make him clench down hard, and you felt every flutter his body gives you. “didn’t even fuck you yet. all i did was sit in your sloppy hole, and you soaked my cock like it was your fucking job.”

bucky whines, his mouth opened, but he didn’t speak. before he could even process it, you switched tones.

“you’re doing so good, so perfect for me.”

his eyes snap open, and he stares at you, confused, like he doesn’t know what the fuck just happened.

“all dumb already?” you murmured.

“i- no, i can- just, give me a second-”

“sweetheart, your cock’s still twitching. you sure you’ve got another one in you?”

“yeah.. yeah.. plea.. mmh.. i can.. take it.”

“oh i know you can,” you leaned down, lips grazing his ear. “now we’re going to see if you should.” you bit down, hard enough to leave a mark on his neck.

oh fuck. that wrecks bucky. his entire body shudders, and his breath catches in his throat. his fists curl uselessly into the sheets, knuckles white, like he’s trying to ground himself, but there’s absolutely nothing grounding about the way you speak to him.

“i warned you, didn’t i? told you what i’d do to you.” you thrust again, harder this time.

“aah- mmh!?” he screams, his voice cracking. he was still twitching from the first orgasm, and now you’re fucking him through it.

“look at you, didn’t even need your cock touched. all it took was mine, inside you, just one push.” you laugh. “you liked it didn’t you?”

he nodded, and you softened, just a little.

“there’s my good boy, so sweet when you cum for me.” you whisper, suddenly tender.

bucky swears he got whiplash from the way your tone flipped, filthy one moment, sweet the next. he’s still panting, thighs shaking violently as you bottomed out again.

you press in deeper, hips rolling slow, drawn out.

“not so cocky now, huh?” you pull back almost all the way, and slam back in hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs.

“ah- fuck!”

“thought i was a bottom, didn’t you? thought i’d get all shy, and beg for your cock-” you pull out slowly, almost all the way, before slamming back in, hitting that spot inside him.

“shit- oh my god-” he gasps, legs shaking.

“but look at you. you’re the one spread out and dripping, moaning like a fucking pornstar the moment i entered you.”

“please- please..” bucky’s voice breaks, high-pitched, and needy.

“didn’t take much now, did it?” you rock in deep again, and he chokes on a sob. “didn’t think i’d be able to fuck you like this. huh? didn’t think i’d use you. you wanted someone soft you could ruin.”

he keens when you bite into his neck once more.

“breathe, sweetheart, just breathe. you’re doing so good.” your hips roll forward again, and he sobs. “god, you’re filthy, fucking yourself on my cock like it’s the only fucking thing that’s keeping you alive.”

“too m-much- ugh, so deep..”

“aw, you’re trying so hard for me, i know it’s too much.” you shush him with a kiss, before you rolled your hips again, and he moans into your mouth. “you’re perfect like this, you know that?”

bucky tries to speak, but all that comes out was a whine.

“no thoughts left in that pretty head, hm?” then you’re rough again, pulling his hips forward to meet your thrusts, letting him feel just how deep you are. “fucking cockdrunk already, and i’m not even halfway done.”

“please- oh my god- fuck!” he moans, and your hand slides down to wrap around his untouched cock.

you glance down, and pause. your gaze catches on the slight bulge on his lower stomach, twitching with each thrust you give him.

“oh.. look at that.”

bucky doesn’t register it at first, he’s too far gone.

so you shift your weight, thrust in deeper, and rested your palm on his lower stomach, and he barely notices.

until he looks.

“what are you-”

until he sees your hand, palm spread wide, fingers splayed over the slight bulge jutting up.

“oh my god-” his stomach twitches, and his head snaps back against the pillow.

“you didn’t notice before?”

“it’s not- fuck, i didn’t-”

“shh, it’s okay. that’s just me, sweetheart, all the way inside.” you press down slowly, and the bulge pulses beneath your hand. “so deep inside you, i can feel you from the outside. poor baby, no wonder you’re crying.”

“no- i don’t- fuck, i don’t like-” he tries to breathe through it, but a full body shudder rolls through him.

“oh, you love it.” you move your hips just slightly, grinding in deeper, and that bulge shifts underneath your palm. “you’re being shy, sweetheart. thought you liked how it feels?”

bucky whimpers in denial, shaking his head, and biting his lip like that’ll stop the sounds coming out of him.

“shh, i know it’s too much. you wanted it though, remember? all week?”

“n-no- don’t say it.”

you sigh, and reach for his hand, then guide it down.

“here. feel that?” you guided his palm over the thick shape stretching him open.

and that’s all it takes. bucky fucking chokes on it.

“ah- fuck- fuck! i-” his body spasms, and his legs kick weakly. his cock pulses untouched between the both of you, cum spilling over his stomach. he whines, high, and shattered, eyes rolling back as he cums the hardest he ever has in his life.

“did you just cum from that?” you drag your hips back slow, and grinded back in deep.

“too much- it’s- fuck! ..too much.”

“aw, but i’m still hard.” you said sweetly, kissing his cheek. “going to keep pressing right here, until i cum too.” your fingers stroke gently over the slight bulge in his stomach. “you can take it right? you already made a mess, might as well be useful.”

bucky whimpers, his fingers clutching helplessly at the sheets, and then you start to move. his back arches at the first thrust, helplessly.

“n-no, i- ah- wait, wait!”

you slow, just barely, hips grinding in deep as your hand trails over his flushed chest. you lean over him, nose brushing against his cheek.

“can you take it or not, sweetheart?”

“y-yeah, yes. i can.”

“oh you’re going to wish you shut your mouth.” you pressed his knees up to his chest, practically putting him in a mating press.

“no wait-”

you cup the underside of his thigh, holding him open, and slide in deeper than before.

bucky chokes on a sob, and his back arches clean off the bed.

“now shut the fuck up, and take it.” you thrusted, and he wails. his heel dug into your side as he tries to pull away. “nowhere to go, sweetheart. you wanted this, don’t go quiet on me now.” another thrust.

his head lolls to the side, dazed, and jaw slack, drool glistening at the corner of his lips.

you hum softly, pressing your hand around his throat, and tightening. you tilt his face towards yours, pressing your thumb just beneath his jaw.

“sweetheart, look at me.” you slowed, just for him to look at you.

and bucky, the poor thing, he tries. his teary eyes flutter open, and he meets your gaze.

you kissed his cheek softly, before your hips snapped forward, deep, and your voice dipped.

“that’s it. there’s my pretty boy. want to see the exact moment you realise no one else is ever going to fuck you like this.” you growled.

he whines again, half-apology, half-desperation.

your rhythm shifts, just a little faster, and harder, fucking into him with purpose now. you wrapped your hand tighter around his throat now, just enough to make him gasp, just enough to feel the way he flutters around you.

“there we go, knew you’d squeeze me just right if i did this.” your grip tightens just a little more, and he clamps down on your cock so perfectly you groaned. “fuck- yeah, mm. that’s it. going to wring it out of me, sweetheart?”

bucky whines beneath you, lips parted in a broken sound you don’t think he meant to make.

you lean in, voice syrupy-sweet, and smug.

“keep doing that- fuck, and i’m going to cum in your messy little hole. that what you want?”

he nods, frantic, and helpless. he tries to warn you, but he cums before he even could.

you rail him, just a little harder, dragging it out as your grip stays firm on his throat. and when you finally cum, it’s with a low growl into his ear. you stayed inside him, breathing hard against his cheek, but still so composed, compared to the wreck underneath you.

bucky’s trembling, thigh shaking where it’s pressed up against his chest. his eyes are fluttering, unfocused, barely able to look at you.

your hand eases off his throat a little.

“you okay, sweetheart?” you whispered, your cock still twitching inside him.

he whines, wordless.

“you did so well, took all of me, fucked yourself dumb, didn’t you?” you shifted, just enough for him to feel it. “shh, i know, i know. sensitive now, huh?” you rock in a little, and he gasps like you had electrocuted him. you’re still pressed so deep he can feel you.

you finally pull out, and he whimper. you hum low, dragging your palm down the inside of his thigh, where your cum was dripping out of him in lazy, thick streaks.

“so? what are you going to do to thank me? still need to finish properly.”

“didn’t you..?”

“came? sure, but i’m still hard, sweetheart.”

bucky blinks up at you, but his brain is still working, somehow. he pushes himself up a little, and reaches over to the nightstand, he opened your drawer, and pulled out a fleshlight.

“how did you..?” you gasped when he just casually pulled out your fleshlight from your drawer. how did he even know it was there?

he didn’t respond, just pushed the toy down over your cock, twisting a little, and you hissed.

“just like that- fuck, ahh.. good boy.”

he whines, then moves his hand faster.

“want to make me cum- mmh, so quick, d-don’t you?”

he nods.

and you do. within a few minutes, you’re spilling into the toy with a thick groan, shuddering through it. you’re still buried in the haze of your orgasm, when he shifts again. you don’t stop him at first. the second the slick, still-warm toy wrapped around your oversensitive cock, your whole body flinches.

bucky smirks, and he rocks the toy so fucking slowly while watching you closely.

“sweetheart.”

“mm?”

you groaned, trying to ground yourself.

“i-i.. fuck..”

he pulls the toy off right before you tip.

“oops.”

“bucky.”

“yeah?”

“keep edging me, and i’ll make you cum untouched for a week straight.”

bucky shudders visibly, but the bastard does it again anyway.

“let me make this simple for you.” you wrap your hand over his, and force the it back over your cock.

“wha- what- what are we-” his eyes go wide when he sees the way your hips stutter. there wasn’t any more teasing, just slick, obscene sounds while you did what he couldn’t.

you guide his hand rhythmically, and you keep going, faster now. when you came, you grinded your hips up into it, and moaned, low, and fed the fuck up. you breathe hard through your nose, and then you sigh, like this whole thing was an inconvenience.

“see? didn’t need your help.”

bucky just stared dumbly at your cock.

“next time,” you murmur against his cheek. “you keep edging me like that, and i’ll fuck your throat raw instead.”

[interlink-au]

Y'all, I want you to know that this blog focuses on canon for the purpose of combatting the Mandela Effect or making people feel forced to limit headcanons to what fanon dictates. We can have headcanons outside of the generally accepted fanon. We can disagree about headcanons and sometimes even still enjoy the ones we disagree with.

I'll admit that sometimes (most of the time) I speak very dogmatically, whether I mean it that way or not. It's a trait I've been working on taming for years. Not an excuse, but an explanation for if I ever come off strangely. Please call me out on it so I can do better. Just try not to be mean about it, please?

And I'm not a stickler about canon. I take note of when canon contradicts a headcanon, but that doesn't discredit the headcanon, not at all. I've got headcanons that go against canon, too. In fact, because I'm limiting my story to canon-compliancy, I've had to drop some of those beloved headcanons of mine from the story. I may do AUs of my AU specifically for those dropped ideas. Because they're fun! Completely non-canon headcanons are fun.

And I've done a lot of research, but sometimes I'm wrong about canon or I've missed an important perspective. Please share your thoughts with me! Be warned that I might ask if you have a source, but don't let that scare you off, because even a vague "I think I remember..." can send me off on a research train with some interesting results. I love that stuff.

I want to get into deep discussions, even strongly opinionated ones, as long as it's respectful and the goal is to share information without the intention of changing opinions. "Agree to disagree" doesn't have to be a bad thing. But again, if I ever come off as pushy, please let me know. The 'tism makes it difficult to take a hint, so I appreciate directness. If someone questions me about my decisions, I might come across as defensive, but I'm just stating my own reasoning without the intention of slamming someone's headcanon.

"If you think so, then why are you so insistent about using canon for the basis of your story?" you may ask. It's because a lot of AUs start with the goal to show off the author/artist's headcanons, so I thought I'd go against the grain and see what would happen if I stuck with canon. The answer is, you can do a lot! Since fanon and the Mandela Effect are so prevalent, sometimes people miss some fun canon stuff they can make new headcanons about. Because I think headcanons are more fun when there is a big variety of them. And I think more information about the source subject could have the potential of spawning a bigger variety of headcanons.

Not to say there's anything wrong with the popular ones! I like and read them too! I just hope others get an opportunity to make a choice to go their own way if they want to.

I feel like knowledge is power in this instance. Knowledge means that if someone argues that your idea is silly, you have examples to back it up. Knowledge is the power to say, I know it's this way but I am choosing to specifically go against that idea. That's powerful!

All that is to say, I'm thinking of starting a weekly headcanon thing where I choose headcanons I like and talk about why I like it and how it goes with or against canon. I think it would be a fun way to celebrate headcanons while still acknowledging canon and trying to clear up possible misinformation. I don't know if it will actually be a weekly thing or if it's just something I'll do at random, but yeah. Look forward to my weekly headcanon I guess.

“the fandom has decided - ” “everyone agrees that - ” “we all know that this is the only right way to - ”

[cameronsbabydoll]

younger!ditzy reader x drew starkey … she does a day in the life with them on tiktok ? well techinally it’s supposed to be her day in life / grwm but he’ll pop in !

the tiktok starts with a blurry shot of your pink ceiling and a very chipper voice.

“okayyy good morning!! i’m gonna do a lil day in my life with my boyfriend but he’s still asleep so shhh—”

cut to: you tiptoeing past drew’s very bare back, tangled in your floral comforter. you zoom in on his ear. “look how cute.”

he groans off-camera. “babe, please.”

“okay sorry sorry!!”

next clip: you in your mirror, glitter rollers in your hair, a heart-shaped brush in your hand.

“i have like three outfit options,” you say. “but drew hates the cowboy boots with this mini skirt so i might wear it just to annoy him.”

cue drew’s voice from the hallway: “i heard that.”

there’s a clip of you doing your makeup—glossy lips, rhinestone clips, cream blush dotted on your cheeks like strawberries. drew walks by shirtless in the background, coffee in hand.

“you’re so hot,” you whisper.

he raises an eyebrow. “me?”

“no, me.”

“ah. yeah, accurate.”

you try to do a haul—“so this is my purse, i got it because it looks like a bunny—” but then drew literally picks you up mid-sentence and tosses you over his shoulder.

you’re screaming-laughing, and the caption reads:

me trying to be a girlboss vs my overgrown boyfriend

there’s a jump cut to you guys at the farmers market. you’re holding an iced matcha and trying to talk about the strawberries you bought, but drew’s feeding you one while you talk and it turns into a whole thing.

“stoppp, i’m filming,” you giggle.

“nah. open.”

“ugh you’re obsessed with me.”

“mhm.”

final clip: you in bed, makeup off, wearing his hoodie. you look into the camera and whisper,

“okay i think he’s finally asleep. i had so much fun today. should we do his day in the life next?”

drew mumbles behind you: “no.”

“he said yes!!!”

“no i didn’t—”

“okay love you bye!!!”

caption: ✨day in my life with my big hot bf✨ #ditzygf #boyfriendsoftiktok #grwm

[aaronsrpgs]

The Tight 90

(This is a continuation or a fractal reviewing of what I've written about in The Worksheet Manifesto and The Quickstart, The Home Game.)

THE TIGHT 90 is a 90-minute RPG session. It riffs on the perfect length/density of a movie, and I think it's a term I learned/stole from will jobst.

WHY RUN SHORT GAMES?

Short games are easier to fit in a schedule. (We're all so fucking busy.)

Short games are easier to pay attention to. (We're all so fucking mentally ill.)

Short games focus on the good stuff and discard the bad stuff. (We're all so fucking tired.)

HOW RUN SHORT GAMES?

Tell everyone, "We're only going to play for 90 minutes. Because of that, I'm going to focus on the things that are most interesting and exciting for everyone at table, and I'm going to skip over everything else. I would appreciate it if you would do the same. If there's something you're really excited to do, tell the table! And if things are dragging, offer an alternative that moves the game along."

But then we actually have to do that. :( How?

SET SCENES AND STAKES

Don't start in a place where nothing is happening and ask your players "What do you?" Give them something to latch onto! Give them an immediate problem! Here are the first four pages of an issue of Uncanny X-Men by Chris Claremont, Dave Cockrum, et al:

In four pages we get a fatal problem, introductions, flashbacks on how they got here, and spotlights on everyone's powers. Awesome!

And while you don't have to have your players' characters falling out of the sky, at least start them at the dungeon entrance with a couple clear things to DO.

(For more on setting scenes and stakes, check out Primetime Adventures by Matt Wilson, which Sam Dunnewold was kind enough to run for me.)

Of course, if they're falling out of the sky or standing at a foreboding dungeon entrance, some player is bound to ask, "What do I have with me?" To which I say:

CUT THE BORING SHIT

Shopping? Don't do it! If someone would logically have something, they can have it. And if they try to exploit that, they're no fun to play with! Tell them no. (More on that later.)

Conversations on meandering horseback? Don't do it! Comic writer Chuck Dixon said that if Batman and Robin needed to have a heart-to-heart, they should never just stand around talking. They should have a heart-to-heart while training on top of a speeding train.

(The example was actually Nightwing and Robin, but I didn't want people to click away and look up who Nightwing was. Also, Dixon is a shitty guy! But at least in this, he was right.)

Basically, almost anything you can get out of a shopping scene or a campfire chat, you can get from everyone falling out of the sky or trying to escape a wildfire. ALL SCENES SHOULD PULL DOUBLE DUTY AS PLOT AND CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.

BE GENEROUS WITH INFORMATION

Imagine a scene at a gaming table. The characters walk into a house in an empty town and ask what they see. The GM tells them to roll perception. The highest result is middling at best. The GM says, "You think you can see some blood." Someone else asks if they can roll investigation. They get a middle high result. The GM says, "There are some bullet casings on the floor and claw marks on the walls." Are the claw marks big? Roll perception again. Do they look like any local animals? Roll nature.

THIS SHIT SUCKS. It's a way to take 30 minutes to poorly tell the players that something interesting happened, and it doesn't give them anything to do after.

Instead, try this: the walls are splattered with blood and empty shell casings lie cold on the floor. The blood doesn't line up with what you know about bullet wounds, though; it lines up with the huge claw marks that tear the walls and floor. And blood drops continue in a line outside...

AND THEN if a player has a cool ability or is an investigator or druid or whatever, you get to write them a cool note that says, "These claw marks are bigger than any animal from around here. Maybe bigger than any animal you've ever seen."

Other examples:

The prince says he doesn't feel threatened by the king. He's clearly lying.

Moving stealthily, you make it to the general's bedroom, but it's clear that he has some sort of sensors or security system set up there.

As a wizard, you know they're casting some sort of summoning spell, and if at least half of the cultists aren't hurt or incapacitated in five minutes, the spell will succeed.

GIVE THE SESSION AN ENDING

It could be an exciting cliffhanger if you think everyone will be there next session to pick it up. But if you're not sure, end with a calm moment where the players have a clear next step. That way you can start next session with, "Last time you'd promised the Cult of Mirrors that you would lead them in war against the Skeleton Army. They're ready to go and ask you what your plan is."

FURTHER HOMEWORK

"How To End Things" by Jason Morningstar. On cutting scenes. Don't be fooled by the Patron link; it's free.

"Grand Experiments: West Marches" by Ben Robbins. The ur-text of running player-motivated sessions that don't require everyone to be there.

BUT WHAT IF!!!

What if rolling investigation rolls are vital to building tension in my mystery game? What if knowing the exact inventory and distance are vital to my high-stress dungeon game? What if campfire stories are my favorite part of our cozy travel game?

COOL! There are lots of resources out there for you, so this isn't for you. But maybe I could tempt you into considering a different style of game sometimes?

(Special thanks to @ladytabletop for supporting my Tight 90 obsession.)

[destinysbounty]

One thing I find unexpectedly fascinating about Monstrosity is that when you think about it, it'd really only work with Kai as the protagonist. And I don't just mean that because Rusty could only be awakened by a fire elemental, and without Rusty Kai would've died at the spooky death-siren lake - although that's definitely a part of the equation. What I mean is that Kai's specific personality was vital to not only his survival, but also to the retention of his humanity, and that likely wouldn't have been possible if almost any other character was swapped into his position.

Let me elaborate.

Although it's certainly true that not all timeskip scenarios were created equal, and that the Merge treated some people better than others (cough cough Cole), it's also worth noting that each character's experiences are heavily defined by their own unique personalities, strengths, and flaws. If you shuffled everyone around into different post-Merge outcomes, you'd have a vastly different story.

For example, Cole absolutely flourished in the Land of Lost Things, but not everyone would - Pixal in particular would really struggle there. She's normally someone who is always on her A-game so long as she has a goal to accomplish and a clear path towards doing so, and it's rare for her to face a lot of internal conflict over her motivations/ideals. But if you put her in a situation where she has to choose between leaving the Finders to reunite with her friends, or forsaking her friends to protect the Finders...I think that no matter which option she chose, she'd be deeply troubled by it, and would not cope with that conflict of interest nearly as well as Cole has.

Whereas Lloyd, if you placed him in the stasis pod instead of Pixal, would suffer just as greatly. As much as he struggled emotionally in his years of isolation in the monastery, I think it'd almost fuck him up even more to find out he slept through the Merge entirely - and has (in his eyes) failed to keep his team safe and intact. That they've had to fend for themselves without him around to do his job as the leader.

And so on and so forth. You get the general idea. (Honestly, it's kind of a fun thought exercise to explore how everyone would cope if they all got switched around into different scenarios. You should definitely try it!)

Of course, Monstrosity in particular is a fascinating case study of this. If you put any other ninja in this story, you'd get a drastically different one - and in a lot of fundamental ways, it just straight-up wouldn't work.

See, the core theme of the miniseries is about balancing ruthlessness and mercy, knowing when to fight and when to show compassion, and how to fight monsters without becoming a monster yourself. And honestly? Kai is arguably the only person on the team who could effectively navigate that balancing act.

On the one hand you have characters like Pixal, Nya, and Jay - characters who would most likely fall too far onto the ruthlessness side of things and lose themselves.

Pixal is a very determined person - as mentioned above, so long as she has a goal and an action plan, she isn't prone to giving up or losing hope. She will keep trudging along her chosen path until it is accomplished, never stopping to let anything slow her down. Sure, she'd definitely be haunted by her choices after the fact, but in the moment I don't think she'd ever let herself slow down long enough to introspect in that way. She's too busy getting back to her family to think deeply about the moral implications of her actions, or to reflect on who/what she's becoming. She'd definitely be haunted by her choices, sure, but that's not to imply she would ever meaningfully deconstruct or process those feelings at all. She is, of course, an alumni at the Zane Julien School of Processing Trauma.

Nya is similar to Pixal in a lot of ways, but she's also naturally a very ruthless person with a teensy bit of bloodlust to her (affectionate). She also has at least one canon instance of sacrificing her humanity to save her family. This isn't new to her. Daidan would tell her that she can't survive in a land of monsters without becoming a monster herself and she'd go "bet", then proceed to beat the shit out of anything that looks at her wrong. Not to mention that the weird death-siren lake would probably fuck her up in a lot of really complicated Seabound-related ways that I don't think she'll ever be ready or willing to unpack.

My placement of Jay on this side of the spectrum may face some scrutiny, but hear me out first. Although Jay acts very lighthearted and goofy in front of others, it's canon that this persona is a facade he wears to save face and hide how anxious he really feels. On some level, I would argue that Jay subconsciously self-sabotages whenever he's fighting in a group, deferring to the strength of others out of insecurity/codependency rather than trusting his own skill. But when he's on his own and has no audience left to perform for, we see Jay's full potential shine through - we see him be strong, and clever, and even a leader. And on rare occasions, usually when Nya or someone he loves is in danger, he can even be brutal. Jay would absolutely have an awful time in Monstrosity, don't get me wrong - but he'd also exhibit a level of competence and efficiency only ever seen during elimination seasons. And that same efficiency would be his downfall. Jay loves his family, he loves Nya, and he also really hates dying. I don't have a doubt in my mind that he would do whatever it takes to make it back to Nya, even if he's miserable the whole time.

Of course, that's not to say that the rest of the team has it any better. Just because Cole, Zane, and Lloyd tilt pretty far onto the "mercy" side of the spectrum, doesn't mean that's necessarily a good thing in this situation.

Cole is extremely community-oriented, and he is constantly making friends and forming meaningful connections everywhere he goes. With Chen's other prisoners, with Yang, with that not-so-random baby he found, with Krag, with the Upply, and now with the Finders. If Cole cannot find a community, he will create it. On the rare occasions that he is alone, it is usually a dire situation involving extremely poor mental health. When his isolation is self-inflicted, it's usually out of grief. And when circumstances forcibly isolate him....well, go rewatch DotD and MotO, and watch how Cole handles just a few hours of forced isolation from his family. I can't imagine he'd handle several weeks alone in the Land of Monsters without becoming completely unglued. Cole's biggest strength is his social sturdiness - not just as the rock his team relies on, but as the foundation upon which everyone he meets can cultivate a sense of community. But in isolation that strength becomes a double-edged sword, and I believe the brutal emptiness of the Land of Monsters would leave him in an even worse emotional state than Kai.

Zane is no stranger to being stranded in foreign realms, armed with nothing but the singular objective to return home. But I think he would be so paranoid about falling into old routines that he would overcompensate too far in the other direction, rendering him too soft to make it through the Land of Monsters in one piece. That's not to imply he was going to make it out in one piece to begin with, of course. This is Zane we're talking about. I'd be surprised if he goes three days without dying horribly in some way or another. Whether it's out of self-sacrifice or because he pulled punches where he shouldn't have and paid the price, that man is not lasting more than a week.

Lloyd...honestly, he's arguably the closest anyone gets to matching Kai's balance on this issue. The case could certainly be made that Lloyd would effectively replace Kai in Monstrosity...but idk, I personally don't buy it. If you ask me, I think he veers a bit too much into the "too afraid of being like his dad to let himself become a monster" spectrum. This would go one of two ways: 1) he goes the way of Zane and/or Cole, and over-softens himself out of paranoia; 2) he initially tries to over-soften himself, but everything gets to him until he eventually snaps and goes full Oni Mode. Personally, I've got my money on option 2.

The takeaway here isn't that any member of the team is inherently better or worse than the others, just that they all have particular strengths and weaknesses that serve them well in their given scenarios. But those scenarios would only work with them as the main character, and nowhere is that more apparent than with Monstrosity. Zane could never withstand Lloyd's years of isolation in the monastery, just like Jay would become an anxious mess if he had to be responsible for the Kragglings' civil war, just like Kai would absolutely have the worst time if he got stuck in the Administration, just like Nya would go stir-crazy in the Land of Lost Things.

Monstrosity is fundamentally a Kai storyline, down to its DNA. And I think that's part of why he comes across as so beautifully written in this miniseries. There is no aspect of it that you can separate from Kai without changing the fundamental core of the story itself. He's the only one on the team who could do something like this. The only one who could survive in the Land of Monsters without either dying horribly or losing himself along the way.

And idk, I just think that's neat.

[zuzu-tries-to-write]

hii, can you do one where bakusqaud dared yn to ignore bakugo bc they swear he likes her and he’s lwk done with it and everyone sees him start to panic bc she won’t talk to him but she’s being real friendly with denki ykykykykyk?

Guys I’m gonna try to post fanfic everyday this summer so if you guys have any ideas please send me some, love you guys sm!!

“Bet he breaks first”

“So here’s the deal,” Mina whispered, crouching with a sly smile behind the dorm couches. “I dare you to ignore Bakugo. No glances. No replies. Not even a grunt.”

Sero leaned in, eyes sparkling. “Ten minutes, tops. He’ll explode. He likes you, we all know it.”

You snorted. “You guys are insane.”

“No, we’re right,” Denki said, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “And it’ll be fun. C’mon, just for today. Watch him lose his mind.”

You grinned, lips curving in that familiar way. “Alright. But if I die, tell Aizawa it was your fault.”

⸻

Phase 1: Cold Shoulder, Activated.

“Oi.”

You didn’t even blink. Just kept scrolling on your phone, seated on the lounge chair like you didn’t just hear Bakugo say the most aggressive “hey” known to man.

He frowned.

“Are you deaf or stupid?”

You turned to Denki beside you instead. “So anyway, what were you saying about the electric squirrels in your neighborhood?”

Denki blinked. “Uh—I made that up but yes, continue.”

Bakugo’s eye twitched.

Mina snorted from behind her juice box.

⸻

Phase 2: “Why Is She Laughing at His Jokes?”

You laughed. A lot. At everything Denki said.

Even the unfunny things.

“Stop ittt,” you giggled, hitting Denki’s arm playfully. “You’re so dumb—”

“You think he’s funny?” Bakugo snapped from across the room.

You didn’t even look at him.

“I mean, a little,” you said, still grinning at Denki, who looked mildly terrified under Bakugo’s glare.

“Oh my god,” Bakugo muttered. “She’s actually lost brain cells.”

⸻

Phase 3: Panic and Petty.

An hour passed.

And Bakugo was spiraling.

He slammed his water bottle down harder than necessary. Walked past you four times—each time closer. Started randomly doing pushups next to the couch where you and Denki sat, grunting loudly.

You didn’t look.

He was glitching.

Everyone saw it.

“You good, bro?” Kirishima asked, trying not to laugh.

“She’s ignoring me,” Bakugo hissed. “What did I do? What the hell did I do?”

“You sound like a romcom villain,” Mina whispered to Sero.

“I’ll give you five bucks if he explodes,” Sero whispered back.

⸻

Phase 4: Breakdown.

“Y/N,” Bakugo said, loud, from behind you.

No answer.

You turned to Denki and said, louder, “Anyway, Denki, what do you think about—”

“That’s it.”

Suddenly he was in front of you, hands braced on either side of the couch, caging you in. Denki scooted a full meter away like he wanted to survive.

“Look at me.”

You blinked up at him, lips twitching.

“Y/N. Are you mad at me?”

You shrugged. “Why would I be mad?”

“You haven’t spoken to me all day—” His voice cracked. “—and you’re all over Pikachu over here.”

Denki gave a peace sign from the corner. “Don’t drag me into this.”

“You’re acting weird,” Bakugo muttered. His voice dropped lower. “And I don’t like it.”

You bit your lip.

Then finally, finally—you smirked.

“So you do like me.”

Silence.

His eyes widened.

Mina gasped from the hallway. “OH MY GOD.”

“You absolute menaces,” he growled toward the BakuSquad. Then back to you—eyes narrowed, flushed. “You think you’re funny?”

“Maybe a little.”

He scowled. “Fine. You win. You got my attention.”

You tilted your head, smug. “What are you gonna do about it?”

His jaw clenched—

And then, low and dangerous:

“Come with me. Now.”

“Where—”

“To talk,” he gritted out.

“Just talk?” you teased.

His eye twitched again. “If you keep smirking like that, we won’t just be talking.”

[dollyswishingwell]

hiii! 🤍 this is my first time requesting, kinda nervous ˶ˊᜊˋ˶ if it’s alright, can i please wish for fluff/comfort with the lads boys x reader who doesn’t like being teased a whole lot? or something like that! i can be pretty sensitive and sometimes their teasing habits just have me like D: thank you ily!!!

ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Don’t tease me

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ fluff, they’re the bestest boys ever, also same lol i’m so sensitive too

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ They learn fast

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

- Rafayel loves to playfully tease, but he’s also the fastest to realize when he’s gone too far.

- Like when he called your pout “your gremlin face” and you went silent? You didn’t even glare. You just quietly turned away, hugging your plushie.

- Cue immediate panic. “Wait wait, you don’t actually think you’re a gremlin? Baby? Pearlie? My precious bride?”

- He jumps into your arms like a dramatic cat, peppering your cheeks with kisses and baby talk. “No no no, you’re my moon! My baby princess cupcake sugar blossom!”

- He makes you a sparkly apology collage with glitter, stickers, and hearts that says “I’m Sorry You’re The Cutest Human Ever And I Love You.”

- From then on, he calls you his “fragile doll” and treats you with the gentleness of a priceless porcelain angel.

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

- Zayne’s teasing is usually dry and subtle, like an arched brow or low chuckle when you whine about needing help with your necklace. But the moment he sees your expression drop? Your lip wobble even a little?

- His entire body goes still. “Sweetheart…” His voice softens instantly, kneeling down in front of you like he just committed a sin.

- Guilt hits him hard. He immediately holds your hands in his gloved ones, thumb stroking soothing circles over your knuckles. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I just like seeing you pampered. You deserve it, always.”

- For the rest of the day, he won’t let you lift a finger. You get tucked into his lap during his break. He feeds you bites of expensive desserts. He massages your feet while whispering, “Never let me upset you again. I hate it. I’m supposed to be your safe place.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

- Xavier doesn’t mean to tease at all. He just says things strangely. Like when he tilted his head and said, “Why are you making that face? You look like a confused shrimp,” while you tried to pick an outfit.

- you blinked at him. D: Shrimp??

- When he realizes you’re genuinely upset, your eyes glassy, your hands nervously clutching your sleeves, his entire soul crumples.

- He scoots closer, arms wrapping tightly around your waist, hiding his face in your neck with a muffled, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re so cute I forget to make sense.”

- After that, he starts using “baby, sweetheart, beautiful, angel” instead of weird metaphors. He even writes a sticky note on his mirror: “No shrimp. Only princess.” :D

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

- Oh, Sylus teases a lot. He lives for your reactions. Little smirks, eyebrow waggles, “You’re really crying because I said your heels were dramatic?”

- But when your breath catches and you go quiet, not in the bratty way, but in the hurt way? His confidence shatters. He can practically hear glass breaking in his mind.

- “Okay, shit, okay, no. Don’t do that face. Baby.” He scoops you up immediately, voice low and urgent. He carries you to the silk-draped bed and lays you down like glass.

- Kisses your forehead. “I wasn’t laughing at you. You’re my everything. I’m just so used to you being adorable I forget how delicate your heart is.” (trust me he’s just getting cuteness aggression)

- He buys you a custom necklace that says “Handle With Care” in diamonds (as a joke). Wears the matching one that says “Her Protector.” He’s never teased you harshly again

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

- Caleb doesn’t even like teasing. He’s very matter-of-fact, but sometimes when you’re clumsy or dramatic, he slips up with a teasing “You’re such a brat, pips,” under his breath with his signature head tilt.

- And when your eyes well up? His heart snaps. Colonel mode: OFF. husband mode: ACTIVATED.

- He drops everything, crouches down, and cups your cheeks so tenderly it makes you cry harder.

- “No. No, hey. You’re not a brat. You’re my wife. My girl. My soft little angel. I didn’t mean that.”

- Makes you hot chocolate with extra cream and mini marshmallows, puts you in his lap, and wraps a fluffy throw blanket around you both.

- Strokes your hair and whispers, “You’re not sensitive. You’re precious. I’ll be more careful, always.” Never calls you brat again, only “princess”, “sweetheart”, “pips”.

[melanch8ly]

I think it would be very fun to have Sevika tied up while you rile her up and see how furious she gets… much to think about

tied and teased

tags: bondage, power play, fingering, nipple play, begging, forcing sevika to be subby, edging.

you’d been begging to tie her up for weeks.

weeks.

and sevika had been saying no for just as long. every time you brought it up she’d just scoff, tip her chin at you with that smirk like you were playing at a game you didn’t understand, like you were real cute for thinking you could do anything to her that she didn’t let you do. but you kept asking, persistent, climbing into her lap with those soft, sweet eyes and your ridiculous pout and your even more ridiculous mouth. promising to be good. swearing you’d make it worth her time.

you were desperate for it. and sevika?

well, she wanted to see what you'd do with power. she was curious. and maybe a little cocky.

so she let you.

sort of.

“you get ten minutes,” she’d growled, pulling her shirt off as she sat back in the creaking old armchair in her safehouse, chest bare, eyes glinting like danger. “tie me wrong, and i’m breaking that headboard within five minutes.”

you grinned.

you didn’t tie her wrong.

no. you used three different knots, tested and double-tested—and had the rope wound tight around her wrists, binding them above her head to the iron beam behind the chair. she watched you do it, lips curled with lazy interest, letting you pull her mechanical arm taut, her flesh wrist even tighter. you straddled her thighs, made sure her legs were spread wide, left her muscles flexed under your weight.

and the whole time she just watched you. let you work.

she still felt powerful.

…right up until you started riling her up.

because you’d promised to behave.

you swore.

but the second you had sevika tied and helpless, her abs flexing beneath you, arms yanked above her head, those silver eyes glaring at you with heat, you lost your goddamn mind.

you started teasing.

slow. so fucking slow.

you pressed kisses to her jaw, her throat, bit at her collarbone. you kept grinding down into her lap, just barely brushing where it counted, then pulling back. dragging the strap against her abs and laughing into her neck when she growled. you cupped her tits, bit her lip, licked the corner of her mouth when she tried to bite you.

and sevika?

she was fuming.

tied up. flushed. jaw tight. glaring. her arms strained against the rope like she was ready to break the damn beam behind her. you could feel the tension radiating off her. she kept bucking her hips and you’d just lift off with a giggle, wagging your finger like she was some disobedient pet.

“you’re pushing your luck, doll,” she snapped finally, voice all gravel and restraint, “get me off or i swear to god���”

“swear all you want,” you purred, leaning in to nose at her cheek. “i'm doing what i want.”

she snarled. actually snarled.

her thighs flexed under you. her arms yanked hard enough the metal groaned above her. she bared her teeth like a feral thing, breath hot against your ear.

“just wait till i get out of these restraints.”

you just smiled sweetly. rocked your hips slow against her thigh. and whispered: “then beg.”

she froze.

you pulled back. stared down at her flushed, furious face. daring her. lips slick, eyes wide, that stupid little grin she hated on your mouth.

"c’mon, big girl," you murmured. "say please."

she laughed. once. bitter and full of smoke.

“fuck you.”

"you wish."

you leaned in and bit her earlobe. dragged your teeth down her neck and didn’t stop until she was twitching in the ropes, jaw clenched so hard you could hear it crack.

her voice was low. murderous.

“you’re gonna regret this.”

but your fingers were already sliding down her stomach. already brushing between her legs, under her boxers. already teasing just the very edge of her.

"maybe," you whispered, voice all saccharine evil. “but for now…”

you kissed her. slow and messy. like a girl who just lit the match and threw it into the gas. “...you’re all mine.”

and sevika?

she was still tied up. still furious. and wet as fuck.

you rock your hips just a little. just enough to make her grind her teeth, flex her thighs, curse through her teeth. you kiss her again, but lightly. you graze her lips with yours, smile against her mouth, mock her with your restraint.

“not so fun when you’re the one tied up, huh?” you murmur, voice sticky-sweet.

her silver eyes glare daggers at you.

you giggle.

“this is kinda what i feel like every time you’ve got me tied up,” you say, dragging your nails slowly down her stomach. “makes me feel real empathetic, y’know?”

“you’re dead,” she mutters.

you kiss her again.

“nah.”

you grind down slow. obscenely slow. her thigh flexes under you. her jaw is tight, her chest heaving, every breath louder than the last. you can see her straining again, muscles coiled, like if she could just get one hand free she’d flip the both of you and have your face in the fucking floorboards.

but she can’t!!

and you know it.

so you ride her thigh just enough to make you feel good. shift your hips in little motions she can’t sync with. you drag your tongue across her collarbone. you bite her. you moan soft and breathy just to taunt.

“mm—fuck, i could finish like this,” you whimper, hips rolling. “wouldn’t that be mean?”

she growls.

“don’t you fucking—”

“aw, poor baby,” you pout. you grind again. “wanna come too? too bad.”

you kiss her hard this time, hot and messy, just enough tongue to rile her, just enough pull on her bottom lip to make her strain for more. but when she leans in, you pull back.

“nuh uh,” you tease. “if you want something, ask for it.”

she laughs. dark.

“not fuckin’ happening.”

“you sure?” your hand slips down her stomach. lower. between her legs.

her hips jump.

“gonna be a long fuckin’ night for you, then.”

you lean in close. lips brushing hers. just enough to tempt.

“i’ve got time, baby.”

and then you go to work.

you press your palm just barely between her thighs, roll your wrist, make sure your touch is maddeningly light, more threat than promise. you lap at her nipple, mouth teasing, tongue flicking slow while your hips grind against her thigh like you don’t even notice the mess you’re making.

she groans. curses. bucks.

nothing.

still tied.

you pull back again.

“still don’t wanna beg?” you ask, faux-innocent.

“go fuck yourself.”

you laugh and slide your fingers in.

just two. just enough. slow. steady. shallow at first. then deeper. you start fucking her with your fingers while grinding on her lap, mouth on her throat, moaning softly just to mock the way she groans, gasps, and writhes. the ropes creak. the chair tips. her voice is wrecked and low.

you keep going. and going. and going.

until her hips are twitching, her thighs are flexing, and she’s snarling every time you pull away just as she’s about to crest.

you edge her. once. twice. four times.

by the fifth, her whole body is shaking.

and your voice? still teasing.

“you gonna come like this, tied up and begging?” you purr. “or you gonna be stubborn forever?”

“…fuck you…”

you curl your fingers just right.

she chokes.

“…i—fuck—”

you pull out again. and sevika snaps.

“please.”

your brows lift. lips part.

“what was that?”

she glares like she wants to tear the walls down with her teeth.

“…please,” she growls. “fucking please, let me come.”

you smile.

“awww.”

you lean forward. press a kiss to her mouth.

then sink your fingers back in. harder, rougher, faster.

“you’re so cute when you beg.”

and sevika? she comes so fucking hard she nearly breaks the chair.

pt.2 where sev does escape and gives reader hell..

editing acc: @sevikastr4p on tt

[tarotbyjam24]

Pick a pile : Why do people love you ? [Collab w @saintshadow ]

Masterlist\pick a pile feedback

pile 1 pile 2 pile 3 pile 4

Hi देवी, देवता और सज्जनों!

Take a look at the piles and see which one speaks to you 🫶🏻 I'd love to know which you chose! These are general readings, so take what feels right for you. Your likes, reblogs and feedback mean so much to me 🩷

If you find my readings helpful, a tip is always appreciated, or you can book a personalized reading for a one-on-one experience. I'm excited about exchanges and collabs!

Pile एक

read by @tarotbyjam24

Okay you're a person who doesn't give up very easily you believe in consistency and quality . People love how you always have tons of ideas for everything you're a person to whom everyone comes for advice and you just give them a certain advice out of your purse . You're the multitasker person . You are the type who may have more than 2 income streams , studying more than 2 things at once and so on . You make use of your all body very well . You can be the restless typa person and people love that about you how you have this childlike energy to you which can't be kept inside their body and they're always jumping here n there minds filled with curiousities prolly eating a choco chip cookie with one hand and using other to write your abcs . You give child like enegy to others which people love about you . I'll say you're a kid stuck in adult body . Your face may also have child like vibe to it aww soo cute I remembered someone close to me because of this pile . People love your spirit you can be that crying cuz I didn't get 1st rank person and always there putting your efforts ,sharping your axe . You're definitely a lucky person in other's eyes and that's why they all love you . You may bring luck to wherever you go . People love when you make specific cute faces that you don't notice until others tell you you were cute a minute ago. You're also the person who may take bullet for others and protect them because you felt that feeling of hurt before it could them a true empath. You may be easily able to put yourself in other's shoes and think n feel what they're going through people love that about you pile 1 . You may also laugh while getting hurt metaphorically and people adore that about you like how kind you're always no matter what. You're other people's partner in crimes or you're always there for them backing them up . Got no friends? Don't worry cuz my pile 1 is always supporting in good or bad haha . You're your people's prank buddy too and oh my you're the life of the party too . If you're not in any gatherings everything seems super bland . You're viewed as cool person and people love those things about you . You can be the eldest sibling\cousin in your paternal\maternal side so it's like you lead the army and you've the responsibility to make things fun haha . You're that friend everyone would call at 2 am and tell them everything and you will come running to them and punch that person's face who hurted your friend. You're literally definition of girl's girls can we say boy's boys too 😭 ? Okay so people love you because you love them too . This love is not one sided . You adore everyone around you and everyone adore you too. People love that you don't have scarcity mindset and always believe that things will flow positively even tho it doesn't seems like that but there's inner belief that it will work out somehow. You believe in both giving and receiving which keeps the balance in your energies and that why people love you. People are not always leaching on you or vice versa the balance is always there and if balance is not there you may not feel your right self and you will most likely to speak what things aren't working for you with others be it colleagues, friends, family and people love that honesty of yours and how well you articulate things without getting hurt or hurting others . Thank you for reading !

If you liked the reading you can send a divine tip to your reader or book a private session with them

Pile दो

read by @tarotbyjam24

Hii magical pile 2 , people love the way you manage your finances or how you help others managing them probably you're working in finace related fields? You always like to play safe you don't like to take risks most of the times and if you're thinking of taking risks you protect yourself before doing that like you ain't staking your respect, money , love etc if you gotta take risks and people love that about you . You're very responsible person and people love that you can also be the head of your family or living alone so you've got those walls up so noone can climb it up . You're a easy going person like if something's working for both the parties you agree easily as you've already thought about your actions in your brain people love that you will make \ are a good parent people love that about you . Other's also like how you're always protecting others you're the mama bear of your people and you're soft person around people you love and that's what people love about you . You may have some specific things for yourself like a specific cup or specific costume that you won't let anyone touch it and may even agree to things that would protect it like someone's using your fav belt but you don't want to and in return they ask for 5 dollars you will agree to 5 dollars deal haha lol. People love how you like to collect things and make good use of them. You can also be a junk collector and journal out of it . You also have eye for things like vintage items,etc may catch your eyes . You may also like to act or play roles of others in real life like you can be godfather to someome people love that about you . You may believe in making other's day better by small gesture of yours and people love that energy of yours like how sweet you're to others most of the time . Specific may not resonate to everyone but you may like to become mascot and go to bday celebrations and celebrate with others and people adore it . People love how you always remember other people's good actions towards you and you may also rewind that memory so you can feel happy about it . You may enjoy freedom and your lone time but you enjoy yourself more when you're around with others . You may feel lively when you're around others and sharing things with them people actually love being around you . I feel your life may require to leave your closed ones behind and move to live alone people love your status tho they don't feel sad when you leave them as you're uplifting and upgrading your life . They understand your emotions too . People love when you unleash your wild side to them like when you show them the real you they are so fascinated by it because you may tend to hide it when you're around others . People like how you give them their spaces when required you're not type to over step upon them or be nosy about their businesses like other people around them . You also like to keep things light with everyone because you also want to take that stress away which comes from your own burdens n responsibilities. People love how resilient you are you don't let any storm shove you away. You really have strong mindset and people want to take lectures about it from you . You know how to keep your calm when things aren't stable . You are loved because you know how to convert losses into profits and turn the tables around . People love how you can alwyas keep other's secrets secret forever and can't get those secrets out of you unless that person gives you permission to do so . You yourself also can be mysterious person too or may seek same kinda bond with others. You can be a good smol\younger sibling\cousin to others and you're always patterning with the party which fulfills your most of the demands lol. That's all pile 2 thank you for reading!

If you liked the reading you can send a divine tip to your reader or book a private session with them

Pile तीन

read by @saintshadow

People love you because you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’re highly rational, and you are also adventurous. You may be someone who loves learning or is very curious, people may love your inquisitive or curious nature. There could be a bit of a distant older masculine energy that seems a bit detached from you- it isn’t really a romantic vibe. Definitely familial or platonic, this person may admire you more than you think- or notice you more than you think? But it’s in a positive way, perhaps you’ve been really working on yourself recently and they’re noticing your hard work and efforts. People love you because you are a long term investor in relationships, you may also be introspective and open to others perspectives. You’re open minded and hold space for the ideas and opinions of others to take space. You could be very supportive of people’s dreams and desires, like you simply just have this overwhelming belief in the success of others. You want the best for everyone around you, even to a degree those who have wronged you. People love you because these qualities are calming, it brings people a sense of security and safety. They don’t worry about you, or you calm their worries. You’re a comforting friend and comforting presence, this feels like cancer energy. You know how to make people feel so cared for in such a specific and unique way. You bring a sort of structure and stability and dependability to those you love. Even if you aren’t actively engaged they know that you will show up and come through when it truly matters. You could be someone who is patient or slow to anger, you don’t take things too seriously and you tend to be relaxed when dealing with your loved ones. You make people feel whole, and you see them beyond the surface. You bond with people on the deepest possible levels, you like to truly get to know someone- to learn them inside and out and understand them as wholly and entirely as possible. You are naturally driven to heal and support others- people love you because when you love them it heals them. Your love is like an ocean. People get lost in your vastness, it’s like there are always new layers, new things, new parts of you to be uncovered. You are ever evolving, people are always getting to know the “new” you, sometimes people could be scared of being unable to keep up. They fear coming out of alignment with you. They could also fear losing you, a lot of people are scared of losing you. You are like a dream come true for many of your friends and loved ones. When people lose you it hurts, because no one will love them how you did. A lot of the time in the past people may have taken you for granted, but it seems like you’ve built a group of people who truly see and support you. Wow, this is profound: People love you because you are fighting for a better future in spite of how dark your past is. You could’ve gone through some very dark and lonely times, times you weren’t sure you would recover from. People around you, perhaps a lover, best friend, or just the people that love you in general love you because you thrive in spite of the difficulties of life. You push to be and do better, you become better constantly, and you are wise enough to learn from your past. You learn from your patterns, and you put forth the effort to improve. You actually care about making a difference in your life- and people are impressed by this. They may not say it much, but people assume that you don’t like praise a lot of the time I’m hearing. I feel like only a few people around you know you like to be praised haha. Anyways, they see it- and they appreciate your effort. Your friends love you because you are also someone who helps them see past their own troubles. You give good advice, and are very wise. They feel like you are a reliable source of information and advice as well. People could even go as far as to just blindly listen to you sometimes.

If you liked the reading you can send a divine tip to your reader or book a private session with them

Pile चार

read by @saintshadow

This is definitely an odd collective? I see that people admire you because you are very loving and caring, you could be a younger person but have a higher emotional capacity than even most people older than you. OR, you could be young and have a lot of older friends that dote on you in a motherly way because they see themselves in you. People could love you for your stubbornness, you mean what you say and you say what you mean regardless of the facts or how other people feel. I see that people could admire your tact and cunning nature, you could be incredibly skilled with social skills, you’re good at kind of leading others in a way. I think that oddly enough people could love you because you are kind of harsh.controlling at times but with a soft face. It’s like very much giving love slowly kills, it’s interesting because the king of cups came out as well as the queen and page of cups. You could also be seen as someone who is very emotionally waise and stable, you are very driven to go after what you want. You could also go to great lengths to make something happen. You are loud and proud about who you are, and you don’t care who judges. People love you because you are showy, flashy, and you appear “higher” in perspective. You aren’t afraid to challenge people, and you are also very honest about your thoughts and feelings. You could also be someone who avoids conflict or difficulty. People could like that you are rather calm. You could also have resources that help people remove obstacles, people could love you because you offer a pathway or because you open some kind of door for them. Whether that be in opportunities, perspective, or a secret third thing lol. People could love you because you don’t say certain things, or maybe because you are more passive- you don’t feel the need to do things super overtly and you may also hide a lot of yourself from other people. People could love the exclusivity of a connection with you. They could feel like there aren’t other people like you, and as if you are completely different than anyone they’ve ever met. It’s like people almost want to study and observe you, they want to look at you under a microscope and pick your brain. People could even want to BE like you. People may also love you because they feel like you lifted them out of a dark place. People could love your femininity, and want access to it- but it is so deeply hidden, so few people get access to your truest self. I feel like it’s almost a “forbidden fruit” situation, people love you because your feminine energy is very dark and mysterious. You are a complex and deep person with many layers, those who like to psychoanalyze or “fix” others may be drawn to you. You attract a lot of broken people, and at times you could pour yourself into trying to fix or control others because you don’t know how to fix or control yourself. It feels like there’s a really difficult energy with love/relationships, like it’s difficult for you to let others in. People love your dark humor, and your direct manner of communicating. They could find you amusing, intelligent, and interesting, you could talk about a lot of taboo topics that are very strange and unique. You could also know a lot of strange or unique information that most people don’t know. You could also enjoy profane, or dark topics, such as true crime, occultism, and the esoteric arts in general. People love your knowledge, and communication and they see you as an asset in this area of life. Those who consider themselves to be intellectuals could be highly drawn to you.

If you liked the reading you can send a divine tip to your reader or book a private session with them

Thank you for allowing me to share my insights with you. Wishing you a day/night filled with good vibes!

Love, Jam

[thetrasha]

Don't Be Kind to Me

SHANKS EDITION

“…Shanks.”

“Oh! I didn’t see you, love. Hello!”

What a pitiful excuse of a lie. He’d been standing in front of a mirror, even if your red-haired captain didn’t have constant access to superhuman observational skills, his eyes could have met yours at any moment.

Shanks just chose to ignore you, letting you watch him as you casually leaned against his door frame. He reckoned that you’d already forgotten why you were there in the first place, too entranced by his strange behaviour that only you caught glimpses of from time to time. For someone so open-minded and outgoing, Shanks kept his cards close to his chest and protected them with his life. Not out of shame – he didn’t fear irreparable harm to his image and persona, not at all, but he was so troubled by the weight of his own life that the doom and gloom of every seemingly normal day just got to him sometimes... Maybe that’s why you kept tabs on him whenever he hasn’t been able to satisfy that fun-loving daredevil side of his for a long period of time; when you were all stuck at sea and forced to eat stew seven times a week out of necessity rather than pleasure and Shanks couldn’t even get enthusiastic about mindless drinking and partying anymore, you just naturally found yourself standing basically right next to him.

At this point, Shanks couldn’t decode whether this was just something you did for everybody as evidenced by your selfless dedication to every crew member’s well-being… or whether you felt the same pull towards him as he did to you.

Fascinating, that mind of yours. But he dearly wished it was the latter.

“…Don’t kid yourself, Captain. You probably sensed me before I even stood in your doorstep. You wanna… talk about it?”

…Right. Or maybe Shanks just deluded himself into being doted on like that for no reason other than the fact that he liked the idea of having you all to himself. Still, that fascinating, fascinating mind of yours was a bit of a problem right now. You’d often used your quick thinking to rip your enemies’ plans apart, but you can be quite the unstoppable force when you use those skills against your dear captain.

It was all made worse by the fact that you weren’t exactly off in your silent assumptions. Just like how he knew you were approaching when he couldn’t see you yet, you knew that something wasn’t quite right as soon as you saw him.

The depressingly misery he he donned in private right now was certainly an uncanny match-up when attached to the name of the Red-Haired Shanks.

To most others, he must have looked quite the same. His hair was stylishly tousled, effortlessly handsome without even trying. Those deep eyes of his were just as strong as ever. Really, you shouldn’t have perceived anything unusual.

And yet, and yet… you noticed. Of course you did. You saw him.

“Talk about what?”

“…Kay. I’ll take that as a resounding ‘no’, then.”, you sighed.

Shanks could only chuckle in response. Yeah, as if you’d ever let him have this one. Once you smelled that something was awry with your captain, you’d pursue it no matter what. Even if Shanks didn’t like it. Especially if he didn’t like it.

You walked up to him, watching Shanks stand in front of his full-body mirror as he was getting dressed. His loose pair of trousers sat lopsidedly low on his hips, his white linen shirt had yet to be buttoned and he was completely barefoot. If he didn’t seem so lost in thought, you would have assumed that he was out-of-his mind drunk and couldn’t remember where or who he was, that’s for sure.

But you did see it, way before you even walked up to him.

Shanks watched as your eyes darted to his missing arm. Well, the light fabric that was in place of it, wrinkled and slightly stained. Like the majority of his shirts, the left sleeve had been tied into a knot to protect the end of his stump. His long sleeves were, thus, always mismatched.

See, that’s the thing.

People usually didn’t even see that he wrapped his left sleeve around itself in a loop, tying it tightly and securely, because he wore his signature cape all the time. It usually covered his entire left shoulder, fully concealing what’s beneath – or precisely what is not there – that black cape at all cost.

Said piece of clothing was thrown across his bed, mocking his reflection in the mirror as his eyes caught sight of it again, choosing to ignore your nearing form.

You stood next to him, looking right into your mirror image as well. Shanks would have loved to know what went through your head at that moment. Knowing you, it was probably deeply profound. Heh.

How cute that you kept worrying about a man like him. You were subtle, but it was still endearing. You followed him around like he was worth it, and his eyes, in return, trailed your form everywhere you went.

“Do you ever regret it?”

“Hm?” Shanks could only mutter a vague sound that didn’t mean anything to either of you.

He pretended he didn’t know what you were talking about just so he could cease talking about it. You just kept digging, though. Every time. Just like you always did, you sought him out to, as you claim repeatedly, ‘get it through his thick skull that there are people who’ll listen’… Well, yeah, but your captain also wanted to look… cool in front of you, for a lack of a better word.

“Losing an arm. Everybody knows, but you still cannot go anywhere without that stupid cape.” “Stupid cape you say, eh?”, he chuckled, shaking his head, bronze red eyes downcast, “Thought it makes me mysterious.”

“Dodging questions now?”, you grinned, knowing that he’d take the bait immediately – hook, line and sinker, “Those are not the actions of the man I chose to serve…”

Oh you damn minx. Why in the world did he decide to recruit you? You were exhilarating, but oh so dangerous. He was but a clueless sailor following your siren song.

As soon as Shanks laid eyes on you, he knew that you’d be his undoing – and he’s been right about that, even if neither of you spoke about the nameless connection you two shared. Both of you just went about your lives as if nothing ever happened, but your captain was aware that he was in deep trouble. How could he ever talk to random women with you watching him flirt away inside a tavern? How could he take anyone to bed knowing that you’d find out, living so close to his private quarters? He’d given into his carnal desires only a handful of times after meeting you since he is a weak, weak man who understands that he will never be with you, but he regretted it every time. He doubted that you were the type to care about things like that.

After all, you probably weren’t even in love with him, even if you haunted his every thought. He just mistook your kindness for affection.

…But if Shanks just thought about you pulling the same stunts as he did – God, it was so hypocritical, so wrong, but he’d actually go properly insane if you ever showed any interest in the men who flirted with you. The captain of the Red Force was filled with relief every single time you shooed curious onlookers and bold strangers away from you, preferring to stay with your crew and make lasting memories instead. Those strangers only saw you for your beauty and while he would have to commend their taste, they couldn’t ever love you like he did.

They all wanted you for a moment, but Shanks wanted you for life.

And words like that – you didn’t know how dangerous they were.

The man you chose to serve?

Don’t get his hopes up, love. He might just get burnt.

He sighed heavily.

He will never escape you for all you have to do to render this Emperor of the Sea defenceless is bat your pretty eyes, offer him a fraction of your attention and flash him one of those smiles that make his heart race uncontrollably.

“I don’t regret it. I would do it again if I had to… It’s just… If I’d just handled things a little better, maybe used a bit more –“

You interrupted him by touching his left shoulder. That’s all it took to shut him up and stop his train of thought right in its tracks. Shanks’ eyes met yours – your real eyes, not that of your reflection – and he swallowed thickly.

His Adam's apple bopped in protest since his throat felt much drier than it did just seconds ago. He was so eager to listen to your thoughts…

Certainly not only because your opinion was valuable as a member of his crew, and not just since you always made sense of any situation with your brilliant mind and deduction skills, no… mainly because Shanks just needed to hear what you thought about anything, really.

He remembered it all – from childhood anecdotes you shared in passing without a second thought down to the tiny details like which temperature you preferred.

“You acted without thinking, so you would have lost a part of yourself either way. It was the right thing to do. That’s the man I chose to serve – that reckless man who helps everyone.”

You gaze, it was so–

–angelic.

That’s the only way he could describe it somewhat accurately. You looked at your captain like he was your lifeline and all you’ve ever been waiting for. That’s why you had the prettiest eyes in the whole world; many people in this world revered Shanks for his sheer power or, if they were lucky, they could admire his attractive features up close – and don’t get him wrong, he loved the attention, but it wasn’t real. As generous and flattering as it all was, none of it was authentic. Everybody saw him for who he appeared to be from the outside looking in, but you actually squeezed his heart with your actions. Your loyalty towards him was unwavering. He trusted you blind but would never say so openly, thinking that it might offend some of his men who’d been with him since the start of his solo adventure.

Shanks suspected that his most trusted confidants knew regardless, though. They were nosy like that. Not like he’d be any different if the roles were reversed…

“W-well!”, he coughed into his closed fist, briefly breaking eye contact with you, “Maybe, but almost letting a Sea King kill me and an innocent child? How pathetic.”

Your hues glazed over in pensiveness, the natural colour of your iris partially hidden by your eyelids. You blinked repeatedly before you lowered your head, now focused on his naked chest instead. Yet before Shanks could joke around to make light of the sombre mood, you suddenly fell forward and landed right in his arms. Well, arm.

You buried your face right above his left collarbone and he could very much feel how your lashes tickled his bare flesh with every blink of your eyes. The feeling that really got to him, however, was how your hand dug into his waist just below the arm that was no more, almost cuddling him, while your left arm dragged him into a side hug he reciprocated instantaneously. If Shanks concentrated hard enough, he could smell your fading perfume and the hypnotic rumble within your chest as you quietly hummed against him. Those vibrations sent tingly shock waves through his heart.

You were always there, always.

It was so easy to imagine that you were here because you loved him just as much, because you just had to keep him close to you – you were just as attached as he was. Your bond didn’t need to be expressed in words, you, despite the horrible job he was doing, understood him and gave him what he needed.

Seeing him struggle was painful because you adored him so much, you couldn’t bear the thought of letting him suffer in silence, which is why every drop of affection was lapped up by him as if he were a man dying of thirst.

“Shanks…”, you started, lifting your head just enough for your lips to hover above his sun-kissed skin, “That missing limb is not a testament of your failure. You’re only human, making mistakes is part of that. So what, you didn’t use your Haki sooner? You almost bled out in the open sea for your friend, for a little boy whose life could run its course because of you. You chose his life over your own in that moment – that’s what counts to me. And I’ll be here to tell you the same thing over and over again because you mean so much to m–”

Shanks crashed into you all of the sudden. There was no trace of hesitation in any of his movements; he pressed his lips against your own with such urgency and desperation that you barely had the chance to react to his actions in any way. You could do no more than close your eyes peacefully as his lone hand gently stroked alongside your soft jawline, only to firmly hold you in place by the edge of your face once he realised that you were kissing him back with just as much vigour.

This deliberate kiss alone had him reeling, but he had to pull away to catch his breath, which means that he was free to watch you as he pleased. He couldn’t help but zero in on your dilated pupils, the wetness on your lips that had you licking your lips to get rid of the feeling.

That alone made Shanks’ chest swell with pride, but the well you nuzzled his left shoulder where his cape would normally lie had him choking on air. He fought a dopey smile until he just couldn’t contain himself anymore.

His hand wandered from your jawline down, down, down to your waist. He lovingly held you there before diving in to give you giddy pecks.

“Now– you’ll never– get rid– of me– ever!”

He couldn’t help but laugh, relieved to hold you, to love you.

You were his, finally! Finally… he would no longer have to worship the idea of you, now that he has you, he is that much closer to being at peace with himself.

He will be there whether you need him or not – his love for you has always been inevitable, but he’s glad he took the dive.

"Wouldn't have it any other way...", you muttered, caressing his stubbled cheek.

You're his now.