#AT LEAST THAT'S WHAT HE GETS YOU TO BELIEVE

[connorsui]

Hi! Can I ask for a Sylus fluff, where he gives the reader his bank card for her to go shopping, and he expects a bill to be at least $10,000, but all he sees is about $100. So he asks her if she bought everything she wanted, and she says something like "yeah, there were such good discounts, I didn't spend too much, did I?"

And man is just ಠ⁠益⁠ಠ GIRL GO SPEND MY MONEY I WANT TO SPOIL YOU

My beloved @lalaluch I cannot explain to you just how much fun this was to even imagine but let alone even WRITE 🩷 like I was losing my mind trying to bust out my Google docs to even make this. But my sickness was literally getting to me that all I could do was imagine--but anywhoo now that it's finally done I hope you all enjoy it ✨️

p.s: I hope this sickness finally leaves me because it be making me internally cry on the inside ...I pray for prayers lol 💅🏻

BUDGET QUEEN

It had taken weeks of gentle coaxing, half-joking remarks, and the occasional exasperated sigh before you’d reluctantly agreed. You had this stubborn streak, an insistence on independence that both irritated and fascinated him. But today, you’d finally caved.

“You’ll take it,” Sylus had said that morning, slipping the sleek card into your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “No arguments. No excuses.”

You had sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But I’m not going crazy with it?!”

He had only smirked, knowing full well you would—and knowing full well that he wanted you to.

And now, hours later, he awaited the results.

Sylus leaned back in his leather chair, his crimson eyes flicking lazily over the documents cluttering his desk. A rare break in his usual chaos had him sipping on his usual drink, savoring the brief quiet. That was until his phone buzzed. He set his glass down and checked the notification, a message from his bank popping up.

He expected it—he wanted it. You had finally caved to his insistence after a literal month of convincing and taken his black card to go shopping. He’d envisioned the inevitable message all morning, something like:

One-hundred million spent at Celine and The Row’s combined?

Or perhaps?

Fifty million at Loro Piana?

You’d mentioned their beauty and elegance more than once.

Nevertheless, the man wanted indulgence, excess—you deserved it, after all.

Instead, the message read:

$157.45 at… Assorted Stores.

Sylus stared at the screen, unblinking. Surely, this was a mistake. He refreshed his balance multiple times. Same amount. He checked for pending transactions. None.

“…What?” he muttered, his irritation simmering beneath the surface. He slammed his phone down, crossing his arms as he waited for you to return.

Minutes later, the front door opened, and you walked in, humming happily, two bags dangling from your arms. You looked utterly content, your warm smile sending a pang through Sylus’s chest. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he had questions.

“You’re back,” he said, leaning against the doorframe to his study, watching you set the bags down in the living room. His towering presence cast a shadow over you, his white hair catching the light, giving him an almost otherworldly aura.

“Yup!” you chirped, rifling through the bags. “You wouldn’t believe the deals I found today! It’s like the universe knew I had your card!”

Sylus squinted. “Deals?”

“Yeah! Everything was on sale! I even had coupons for some things. Oh, and this boutique downtown was having a clearance event! It was amazing!” You beamed at him, oblivious to his growing disbelief.

“Clearance? ..…How much did you spend?” he asked, his voice neutral. Too neutral.

“Um…” You frowned, pulling your phone out to check. “About a few hundred, I think? Oh, wait—like one-fifty! I didn’t spend too much, did I?” You tilted your head, as if genuinely concerned.

Sylus stared at you, his expression shifting to one of incredulous disbelief. His red eyes seemed to glow, and his lips pressed into a thin line. It was the look of a man deeply offended. Not by you—but by the principle.

“…That’s it?” he asked, his voice sharp but measured, as if he were trying to comprehend an alien concept. “One-fifty?”

You blinked up at him, a little confused by his tone. “Well, yes… I mean, I didn’t want to waste your money—”

“Waste my—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his snowy hair. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure. “Sweetheart,” he said slowly, “do you have any idea why I gave you my card?”

“To… buy some stuff?” you offered, suddenly feeling like you were missing something obvious.

“To spoil you,” he emphasized, stepping closer. “To treat you like the queen you are. To shower you in luxury. And you—” He gestured to the modest shopping bags on the floor, his voice taking on a dramatic edge. “—come back with clearance items?”

Your cheeks flushed. “But… I didn’t need anything expensive! I found good deals, and I thought—”

“No.” Sylus leaned down slightly, bringing himself to eye level with you, his crimson eyes boring into yours. “Listen to me, love. I don’t care about the price tag. I want you to have the best. The fact that you’re this thoughtful is adorable—don’t get me wrong—but next time…” He paused, his voice dropping into a softer, more commanding tone. “…I want to see receipts that would make the average person cry.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m not.” He straightened, towering over you again, his arms crossing. “Do you know how much money I make? How much I’ve set aside specifically to spoil you?”

“I can guess?…”

“Clearly not if you’re spending less than a casual dinner out on everything.” His voice was calm, but laced with unmistakable disapproval.

Then, with a breath, he softened—only slightly. “I just want to see you dressed in diamonds,” he corrected, stepping closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. “To watch you slip into golden heels that make you shine like the goddess you are. To drape you in silk and velvet, to see you standing before me in a dress that costs more than a car and still doesn’t compare to your worth.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by the sudden weight in his words.

“I gave you my card,” he continued, voice lower now, intimate, “because I want you to indulge. To spoil yourself the way I ache to spoil you. Because you deserve to walk into a store and not think—just watch and admire”

Your throat went dry.

He lifted his hand, fingers brushing over your wrist before tracing upward, his touch featherlight against your skin. “I want to see you try on jewelry without looking at the price tag,” he murmured. “I want to sit back and watch as a saleswoman fumbles to put a necklace around your throat because her hands are shaking too much from the sheer amount of wealth wrapped around you.”

His gaze dipped lower, lingering on your frame as he exhaled through his nose. “And instead… you bring me deals?”

Your heart pounded, a mix of amusement and something else entirely stirring in your chest. “I didn’t think I needed to spend that much—”

“You don’t need to,” he interrupted, thumb ghosting over your jawline. His voice was softer now, but no less commanding. “But I want you to.”

Your face heated.

“Next time, I’m going with you.”

“What, to make sure I spend enough?” you teased.

“Yes,” he said, dead serious. “And to carry your bags. And to remind you that you can have whatever you want.” His red eyes softened slightly, and he tilted your chin up with two fingers. “All I want is to see you happy. No discounts required.”

You smiled at his sincerity, warmth blooming in your chest. “Okay, fine. Next time, I’ll go a little crazier. Maybe five million?” you joked.

Sylus groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me.”

You laughed, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“And you’re too frugal for your own good,” he shot back, pulling you into his arms. His voice softened, turning almost playful. “But I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to spend properly.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said, grinning against his chest.

Sylus sighed, resting his chin atop your head. As much as he wanted to spoil you senseless, he couldn’t help but love your thoughtful, practical side. It was part of what made you you—and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

Still, next time… he was definitely making sure you left the store with at least an entire closet filled with designer bags.

For his sanity—and yours.

[parkerslatte]

One Year

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: usual squid game stuff. blood and gore. injury. mentions of suicide. mentions of addiction. drugs. soft thanos. slight canon divergence.

Summary: After an argument about money and debts, Y/N left Thanos. A year later she meets him again in the games yet he does his best to ignore her. During the game of Mingle, Y/N gets thrown out of her room and Thanos comes to her rescue.

Squid Game Masterlist

“Are you being serious?” Y/N asked, sitting down on the chair in disbelief. 

Su-bong paced in front of her exasperated. “It was meant to make us more money! You can’t blame me for trying.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I told you when you first told me about it that it was a stupid idea. Not only did you ignore me, but you invested more than you said you were going to. And not just your own money, you took some of mine too!”

Su-bong rolled his eyes and Y/N chuckled. How he could be annoyed with her was beyond her. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t.”

“I can do something,” Su-bong said, a hint of desperation in his tone that he was clearly trying to hide. “I can start writing songs again. I can–”

“Don’t lie to me or yourself,” Y/N snapped. “You have been saying that for the past year.”

Su-bong scoffed. “You try to do something like that again when you are turned into a laughing stock!”

“And who’s fault was that?” Y/N said. “I was the one who advised you to not take those pills before the performance and you did it anyway. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Aren’t you meant to be my girlfriend? Isn’t it your job to support me?” Su-bong questioned. 

“I do support you, but I know when to draw the line,” Y/N replied. “I don’t support you basically gambling your entire life savings and mine all on what was clearly a scam from the start. I don’t support you going out every night getting high using pills you bought with my money. And as far as I know, you are supposed to support me too.”

“I do support you,” Su-bong defended, clearly offended. 

“Give me one example where you supported me over the past year,” Y/N said. Su-bong remained silent, giving Y/N the answer she needed. “The fact that you can’t even name one explains it all,” Y/N said. “You weren’t there for me when I was fired from my job. When my father was sick. When I broke my leg and could barely get around.”

“I can support you,” Su-bong said, grasping Y/N’s hands. “I can get us money. I can get it back–”

“No,” Y/N said and pulled her hands from his. Despite how she felt in the situation, she couldn’t help but miss the warmth of them. But she knew that what she was about to do was the right decision for her. “I can’t do this anymore. Not only did you continuously lie to me, but you stole money from me dragging me down with you.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “Don’t do this.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. There was a time when they had had this conversation before. Then she had stayed and Y/N was coming to realise that it was a stupid decision. Despite it all, she did still love him. But she couldn’t forgive him–not this time. “Are you begging me only because you have nowhere else to go or because you still love me?”

There was a brief moment of hesitation. It was at most a few seconds but those few seconds were arguably the most important. “Of course I love you!”

Slowly, Y/N nodded. “I see.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “I’ll get a job. Fuck, I’ll get two jobs. I can fix this.”

“You are over one billion won in debt!” Y/N exclaimed. “Do you really think a few shitty jobs are going to fix that anytime soon? At least my job pays a decent wage but it is still nowhere near to pay off my own debts which you forced me into. No, I’m done this time,” Y/N said, keeping a steady tone despite the way she wanted to cry out and forgive him instantly. “Please leave. I’ll have your things sent to you.”

“You can’t kick me out!” Su-bong exclaimed. 

“You don’t rent this apartment, I do,” Y/N said, avoiding his gaze. “Please leave Su-bong. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

He scoffed. “I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Y/N’s gaze remained fixated on the table before her until his footsteps grew distant and the front door was opened and slammed shut, plummeting the apartment into silence. The moment she knew she was actually alone, Y/N allowed the tears to flow. She knew that this decision was for the best, after all their relationship over the past year had been far from a whirlwind romance. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time they had even slept in the same bed. 

But somehow she already had the urge to run out and tell him to come back and that they could work everything out together. Y/N’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, grounding herself. She couldn’t do that. Leaving him was for the best– even if she didn’t believe it just yet. 

***

The platform began to move, the number of players in the room was considerably less compared to the first round. She was standing on her own as she looked at the puddles of blood on the floor. There had yet to be someone Y/N had become allies with, the group she was with for the pentathlon were already a small alliance of four and she only joined them because they needed a fifth person. Everyone else already seemed to have their own group apart from her. 

It wasn’t that Y/N hadn’t tried. The moment she had seen her ex-boyfriend run up to that voting button and confidently chose to continue the game, she had tried her best to speak with him. Despite the fact that she was the one who broke up with him, it was nice and comforting to see a familiar face, even if that familiar face was high out of his mind every single time she tried to speak with him. 

Four different times Y/N had tried to speak to Su-bong and each time he wouldn’t give her the time of day. It irritated her more than she cared to admit though deep down she couldn’t blame him. After all she was the one who had kicked him out. 

She glanced at him from across the platform and noticed him already staring at her. Upon noticing this, he quickly looked away from her. If she made it through this round, she would make him speak to her whether he wanted to or not. 

“Two players,” the voice called out. 

There was no hesitation as Y/N grabbed the person closest to her and began to drag them to the yellow room right before her eyes. The round was carnage as people pushed and shoved and fought each other to get to a room in time. There were 126 players left, only 100 would be able to make it through the round. 

Just as the person she dragged opened the door, Y/N spared a glace in the direction Su-bong ran and found him and Player 124 dragging people out of the way of the door before running into it themselves. Y/N turned back to her room and slammed the door behind her just as Su-bong looked in her direction before he slammed his door closed. 

Once the door was closed, Y/N allowed herself to breathe and finally relax for a moment. She looked at the person she had dragged. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you when I dragged you, did I?”

Before the woman could even muster a response, the door was forcibly pushed open and a firm grip squeezed Y/N’s arm, pulling her out of the room as an older man forced his way inside. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N yelled, kicking and hitting the man as he tried to push her out of the room. 

“I’m not dying today!” the man hissed. 

Y/N pulled her arm from the man’s grasp and before he knew it, a fist was flying at her face, her vision blurring immediately. A force pushed Y/N outside of the room and she fell to the floor. 

“Fuck you!” Y/N yelled at the man inside. 

Y/N glanced around at the clock and panic instantly rose within her. There were ten seconds left on the countdown and all hope left her body. There was no possible way she was going to find a partner and a room in time. Y/N slowly stood to her feet, already accepting her fate.

There were a few people still on the platform either hurt from someone or accepting their fate. Others were still trying to force their way inside rooms and fight for them. Slowly, Y/N closed her eyes. At least in her final moments she wouldn’t have to see the carnage surrounding her. 

Before Y/N knew it, she was quite literally swept off her feet. Her eyes opened and immediately recognised the mop of purple hair and she let out a small noise of surprise. Without a moment of hesitation, Su-bong ran into a blue room and slammed the door behind him just as the door locked, breathing heavily. 

As the gunshots sounded out, his grip tightened on her as he slumped down to the floor, Y/N still in his arms. 

“Su-bong?” Y/N muttered, still in disbelief that he had saved her. She stood from his hold and shakily got to her feet. 

“Why were you just standing there?” Su-bong asked, raising his voice. “Do you want to die?”

“I was thrown out of the room,” Y/N said. “There wasn’t enough time to find someone else and find a room.”

Su-bong stood to his feet, his eyes wide. “Why wouldn’t you at least try?”

“Why would you care?” Y/N said. “Evidently from the way you have refused to even speak to me here, you wouldn’t care whether I lived or died.”

“Of course I care!” he exclaimed.

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me since we’ve been here?” Y/N questioned. “I have tried so many times to speak with you, thankful to see a familiar face, and you have shut me down every single time! Is it about the drugs you’ve been taking? I know that I don’t like it when you take them but honestly right now I don’t care. All I have wanted to do is speak with you.”

Su-bong scoffed. “Now you want to speak to me? What about the past year? You never wanted to speak to me when I reached out.”

“The circumstances were different and you know it,” Y/N snapped. 

“How?” He asked. “I’m just doing exactly what you’ve been doing to me.”

Y/N sighed, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. “For once, imagine being in my place. Imagine supporting your partner for a year after their career took a plummet, you start paying for everything. Food, clothes, sometimes even their drugs when they begged you.”

At that statement, Su-bong glanced down at the necklace hanging from his neck. 

“Then you find out that they had an amazing idea to invest in crypto that turned out to be a scam,” Y/N continued. “Not only did they stupidly invest their entire life savings, but then you find out that they have been taking small amounts of money from your account too. Now leaving themselves in debt as well as you. In between all of this, imagine them going out early in the morning and either returning high out of their mind where you need to stay up and take care of them all night or they don’t return at all and you spend the whole night worried about where they are and if they are even alive.”

Y/N took a step closer to Su-bong. “Imagine if our positions were switched. You wouldn’t want to speak to me again either. But you have no idea how hard it was for me, because despite it all– somehow I still loved you. You fucked me over and I still loved you.” A shaky breath left Y/N. “So, I’m sorry if I didn’t want to talk to you. I’m sorry if I ignored you for a year. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you, but I needed to put myself first for once.”

The silence in the room was deafening. The gunshots had ceased and the guards were clearing up the bodies. The numbers who hadn’t made it sounded through the speaker but Y/N didn’t listen as she only stared at Su-bong who hadn’t met her eyes the whole time she spoke. 

Slowly she took another step towards him and brought her hand up and placed it under his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. “You always did have trouble making eye contact when we were having a serious conversation.” His pupils were blown wide from the pill Y/N had watched him take before the game. “Why did you save me?”

Su-bond blinked once, then twice as if he was confused by the question. “What?”

“I watched you run into a room with your friend, pulling people out of the way for it. You were safe. Why did you risk your life to save me?” Y/N asked. 

“You were watching me? Señorita, I’m touched,” Su-bong said, his tone flirtatious. Y/N knew this behaviour all too well, sometimes she used to fall for it. 

Y/N frowned. “Be serious for a minute. I don’t want you to be ‘Thanos’. I want you to be Su-bong. My Su-bong.”

Surprise seemed to fill his eyes and he seemed to unconsciously lean into her touch as his eyes flicked to the side. “I watched you run into a room, I thought you were safe so I entered a room. When I looked out and saw you were standing outside, I ran out without thinking.”

“Did you know that there was a room available?” Y/N questioned. 

If possible, the room became quieter. “Why did you do it?”

“I couldn’t leave you out there,” he admitted. “I couldn’t leave you to die.”

“But you could have died in the process?” Y/N questioned. “How stupid could you be?”

Su-bong’s eyes met Y/N’s once more. His pupils were still dilated but Y/N could see his true emotions shining through clear as day. Vulnerability. 

“Do you know where I was when that man in a suit offered me that card?” Su-bong said, his voice strangely quiet. “I was on a bridge ready to jump and take my life. So I don’t care if I die in these games. But if you died, I couldn’t handle that. When I ran out, I thought that we would either both live or we would both die.”

Su-bong’s hands slowly moved until they held onto Y/N’s waist. The feeling of it so familiar but so foreign. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about you, that if you died, I wouldn’t feel anything. I tried to convince myself that I was angry at you for turning your back on me. But when I saw you standing outside that room prepared to die, I realised that none of that was true. I still love you, baby. Even though I’m pissed that you joined these games.”

“It’s not like I had any choice,” Y/N shrugged as she cupped his face gently, her eyes stinging. 

Su-bong glanced down guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Y/N said, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Someone who wasn’t sorry wouldn’t risk their life to save their ex-girlfriend who kicked them out with nowhere to go”

A huff of a laugh left Su-bong as he dipped his head down resting his forehead against Y/N’s. “Looking back, I can’t blame you.”

Y/N’s eyes closed as she savoured the feeling of his closeness. If she imagined hard enough, she could pretend that they weren’t trapped in a series of deathly games. They would be in her apartment, her doing her own work while Su-bong worked on a new song, happily sitting side by side. Just how it was for four years before his career blew up and things spiralled from there. 

“Vote to leave,” Y/N whispered. “We can get out of here and we can work things out. I know that you said that you…don’t care if you die in these games, but I don’t want to watch that. If we vote to leave, we can pay off our debts together and work things out between us– properly this time.”

Suddenly a warm pressure captured Y/N’s lips. The feeling was one she had missed. Her body fell into his as she wrapped her arms around Su-bong’s neck as she deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist before he turned their bodies until her back was pressed against the wall. 

Y/N pulled away and allowed herself to look into Su-bong’s eyes for a brief moment before she leaned in once more. The kiss held a hint of desperation behind it, as if one of the guards would enter the room and gun them down that very second. Su-bong’s hands slid from her waist to her hips, giving them an experimental squeeze. 

A content sigh left Y/N as she threaded her fingers in his hair and Su-bong smiled into the kiss. He pulled away, breath mixing with hers. “Jump, señorita,” he muttered.

“I always hated you calling me that,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“You loved it,” Su-bong replied as he picked her up and her legs immediately wrapped around him as he deepened the kiss. 

It wasn’t until now when Y/N realised how much she had missed him and how perfectly they fit together. It had been a year since he had last touched her this way and it was as if no time had passed. 

“I missed this,” he muttered, lips attaching to her jaw before peppering soft kisses down the side of her neck. 

“Me too,” Y/N sighed, tilting her head back as she savoured the feeling of his lips on her skin. She could only wish that they were in her apartment, gradually making their way towards the bed. 

Instead Y/N was brought back to her harsh reality. 

“Attention players, the game is now over.”

The door clicked and unlocked and Su-bong reluctantly detached his lips from Y/N’s neck.  They stared at one another breathlessly. Y/N’s legs were still wrapped around his hips and her fingers were tangled in his hair– only messing the strands up even more. 

Slowly, Su-bong set her back on her feet, hands slipping up her body to her waist. The footsteps of the other players broke the two from the daze they were in as Su-bong slowly stepped back, allowing Y/N space to step away from the wall. 

“We can get out of here together,” Y/N whispered as she slipped her hand in Su-bong’s. “Please vote to leave.”

The door was opened and a guard stood in the threshold, gun clutched in their hands unafraid to use it. Y/N and Su-bong slowly stepped out of the room and joined all of the other players as they exited the game. Neither of them spoke though their hands remained clutching one another tightly. 

“Thanos!” Player 124 said as he nudged Su-bong’s shoulder. “What was that for? If it weren’t for those pricks outside the room, I’d be dead.”

“You’re alive aren’t you?” Su-bong said the tone of his voice shifting to something more distant. A tone he never spoke to Y/N in. A tone that she knew was purely for other people.

Player 124 glanced at Y/N and his eyes trailed down to where her hand was linked with Su-bong’s before his eyes fixated on the red patch stuck to her jacket. A quiet huff of acknowledgement slipped past his lips. “I hope this bitch won’t make you change your mind about playing one more game.”

Su-bong’s head whipped around fast to face Player 124. “Don’t fucking call her that, man.”

Player 124 laughed. “Whatever you say. But remember. One more game.” He slipped back into the crowd of people– significantly smaller than when they had first entered. 

“You need to make better friends,” Y/N commented watching Player 124 leave with distaste. 

“And you need to make friends,” Su-bong defended as he pulled Y/N along with the rest of the crowd. “I’ve seen you sadly standing around on your own since we’ve been here.”

“Sorry for not wanting to get attached to anyone in a place where I could die,” Y/N replied. 

Su-bong huffed a laugh and squeezed her hand. “You have me now.”

“Only until the vote?” Y/N asked, her heart dropping slightly.

There was a brief moment of hesitation as he glanced down at the blue patch on his jacket. After a while he slowly nodded and Y/N let out a soft sigh of relief. 

“Only if you promise to not kick me out again,” Su-bong muttered as he threw his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, keeping her pressed to his side. 

“I promise,” Y/N replied as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Only if you promise to work things out between us.” Y/N glanced at his necklace. “That includes your addiction. I know it will be hard, but I will be with you every step of the way.”

Su-bong looked at the cross necklace hanging from his neck and let out a long sigh. “Okay, señorita. You have a deal.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Y/N muttered.

“I know that you love it,” Su-bong said. “You always did. Especially when I–”

“Let’s leave that talk for when we are out of this hellhole,” Y/N said, lightly shoving him away from her. 

A quiet laugh left Su-bong as Y/N looked up at him, a small spark in his eye shone brightly. It was the first time she had seen it in years. Y/N’s lips twitched up as she savoured his touch, hope filling her heart for the first time she had woken up in this god-forsaken place. Y/N linked their fingers together once more as they walked through the colourful staircase for what would hopefully be the final time. 

[g-k444]

okayy so what about free-use trains? free-use Ubers? free-use transport?

You order your uber and it comes to you with a freshly needy slut on her knees with a collar around her neck and chain binding her to the backseat where you can do as you please to her as you commute from place to place.

Perfect, right?

Well, perfect for you at least - not for me. I'm a working woman. I have a job I need to get to and when it just so happens to be an early 7am morning, so what if I accidentally type the last number of the cab service wrong?

the line should go dead, i should look down and reread the number and realise that ive typed it out wrong and correct it and properly order my transport.

what shouldn't happen, is for an uber to be placed regardless - and for when i enter the vehicle, there to be a chain and collar snapped open on the floor of the uber.

i realise my mistake as soon as i step in - i accidentally ordered one of those horny fuck-taxis instead of my normal cab to work - but it's too late to back out and reorder my cab as the driver speeds off without asking for my destination. S'pose he just remembered it from the phone call.

but no.

instead he pulled up outside a block of flats, and the door i sat besides was opened as a man entered and frowned.

why's she sat on the seat? that's not very obedient - is your quality dropping? And why is she not collared up?

my own look of confusion was slowly replaced with horror as i realised that both the driver and passenger thought that i was a... worker.

i stuttered to correct the man's misinterpretation, but before i could get the words out, he had slapped me around my face, shocking the words out of my mouth as i was dropped to the larger-than-average footwell.

and then all control was out of my hands as the man's hand wrapped around my neck and forced me onto the ground, struggling against my wriggling and helpless body that screamed for help as he snapped the collar around my neck - binding me to the godforsaken taxi as a slut for his helping

my breaths came out fragmented and i could feel tears pooling in my eyes in horror at what was happening - what he was doing.

His arms wrestled with my blouse, not caring to undo the buttons of my delicate white dress shirt - instead ripping them open like a box of biscuits, pulling my decency away from me and leaving my heaving breasts in nothing but a bra that swayed to accustom my bust as the car turned a corner.

his cock came out then, as he used my neck to push me and hold me on my back, his fingers pushing against my clit through a pair of tights and panties - pulling the both of them off and to the side before plunging his cock into my pussy without any lube - forcing a scream from my throat as me began shagging me against the car floor, nudging my nipple into view from behind my bra before his cold breath enveloped the bud and began playing with it

he leaves almost perfectly in time for him to reach his release - cumming inside my pussy whilst i still cried and covered my face with hands - however i felt no relief as another man entered the back of the car, with his cock already released and swinging like a weapon between his two legs as he shut the door behind him with a wide grin at the "office worker themed wear" i seemed to kinkily sport.

and this man seemed to think that my cries and pleads for helps and screams and weak pushes to get him off me were-

Wow! You really like cnc huh, more of your sluts should do this gig!

After multiple men - multiple rounds - multiple cumshots that left my skirt wet and stomach twisted, the car stopped and no man entered the car... and even the collar unlatched from around my neck!

i couldn't believe it... was i free?

i didn't give myself a chance to second doubt myself.

i pushed myself out of the car despite my weakness, my eyes adjusting to the brightness of the world i was thrust into outside of the cab- realising i was outside my work building!

a shiver ran through my body as the cool wind seemed to illuminate the hot trickle of liquid down my leg, and as i looked down i realised that there was cum leaking from my pussy.

blushing and realising i was in public like a wreck, i hurried into the building just as i heard the bell going off - indicating the midday break...

i ran to find the nearest toilet as the rumble of feet comign down stairs became louder - finally finding a WC sign on a door and launching myself through it - breathing a sigh of relief as i found a safeplace to open my eyes and look into the mirror to see....

fuck. i looked like a fucked out mess. my bra had been flipped on one side so that teh cup was squashed beneath my tit that was free and lay like a pillow against my chest, free of its material constraints - my stomach with white stripes of cum that lead to a wet skirt and more cumstreaks that fell down my thighs and tights.

the door squeaked and i whipped my head around, freezing in shock as i made eye contact with a...

a man. multiple men. coming to use the toilet during their break and freezing in shock at the cum-soaked girl stook half-naked in the middle of the men's toilets

their eyes raked up adn down me and i felt myself turn fearful once more as i noticed their expressions of... hunger.

A squeak left my mouth in shock and pain as both of my tits were grabbed in handfuls by a pair of hands from behind me, pressing up my tits and squeezing them, presenting them to the men that stood in the doorway before i heart a-

"i think we got our lunchtime treat right here, huh?"

[angsty-art-ist]

part 2 of the NPMD Monster High AU! seriously thank you guys for all the love on part 1, it means a lot that you like my silly hyperfixation crossover :]

a little lore note: in this AU, monsters can use magic to blend in with humans during the day, sort of like in the g3 cartoon. Hatchetfield is kind of split into the normie side and smaller monster side. the monster part of town is magically warded to make humans want to leave quickly, and monsters don’t tend to cross over into the human areas (with the exception of adults with normie jobs, like Mayor Lauter and most of the adult HF cast). Hatchetfield High is a “exclusive private school” in the monster part of town, and the normie teens, like Grace and Max, go to Sycamore.

why are Grace and Max humans if this is a monster AU, you ask? don’t worry, i have plans for them :)

Steph:

she’s a vampire because… well because she’s rich. you’ve heard of old money? these Lauters are ancient money

i had a hard time with her outfit because my main references were Draculaura and Elissabat, who are both very dressy, but i wanted to stay true to Steph’s casual grungy style… and then i remembered The Lost Boys were THEE original grunge vampires, so i mashed David and Paul’s jackets together and gave her a Santa Carla tee as a shout-out

the chains and plaid pattern tie back to Pete’s design, like the plaid of her flannel and his bow tie in the show <3

her father isn���t technically actually a king, but runs Hatchetfield’s monster community like he is one. a close encounter with a band of monster hunters the better part of a century ago forced the monsters into hiding under his command, and Steph’s mother ended up staked. Solomon hasn’t been the same since…

Max:

his design is simpler than the others, but that’s for a reason :) the mansters usually have more boring outfits than the ghouls, so it’s not that out of place for Monster High, right? i plan to make a few more ‘doll lines’ for this au- i’m thinking Dawn of the Dance next ;)

his jacket is based on the G1 varsity jackets that Heath Burns and Slo Mo had in their first waves, but with Max’s iconic blue. i got rid of the Hatchetfield ‘H’ since he goes to Sycamore with the other normies in this AU. go Timberwolves, i guess?

his striped shirt is based on Freddy Krueger’s iconic sweater, because Max in the musical seems to take a lot of cues from Freddy; coming back from the dead to get revenge on his killers, vulgar one-liners, gruesome kills, and even a parody of the Freddy rhyme painted on the set background. one, two, Jäger’s coming for you…

side note but i had a really hard time getting Will’s likeness in this pseudo-MH style. i think he ended up a bit too Bruce Campbell-y. maybe it’s the chin.

Grace:

sorry, Grace, i’m changing your name a bit. if you need a refresher on the G1 MH lore; Van Hellscream is the Monster High expy of Van Helsing. his niece Lilith appears in the Ghouls Rule movie, but i’m stretching out the timeline a bit so let’s say Lilith is Grace’s aunt or something. Chasity is her maiden name, which the family goes by because “Hellscream doesn’t sound very Christian”

these days, the Van Hellscream’s monster-hunting legacy is more of a family legend than history, and her parents don’t even believe that monsters exist… but Grace knows that something unholy is going on at that “private school”. she may not have Great-Uncle Abraham’s arsenal, but she has the power of God and years of repressed rage on her side

design wise she changed the least from her canon outfit. she’s covered in monster-killing weapons- crosses, stakes, silver bullets, and the flowers on her blouse and jeans are alliums, aka garlic flowers- which, fun fact, were originally thought to be what repelled vampires, rather than garlic bulbs!

her blouse is based on Nancy’s nightdress in Nightmare on Elm Street to match with Max’s Freddy stripes

[necroliberty]

I named a varient of Dream "Broken Dream" too. But they are so different. Here is the only picture I have of him.

Though I first made it for zero infinity and for an oc, I dumped a while ago. I want to at least make him stand on his own. I gave him a hoodie because all Sanses have depression. You can't tell me otherwise. Also, because that varient needs to have a blanket on him 24/7

So this is Broken Dream (the Dream who gave up) Trigger warning for depression and suicide attempt. (Can you believe that last part actually triggers me too. So yeah, it will be lightly mentioned.)

Dream always smiled with his friends, rains or shines. Only in fights against Nightmare and his gang did his smiles ever falter. Nightmare was right that his smile was a mask and this frown was his true feeling. But Nightmare was blinded by his own pride and bitterness to realise one thing. Dream wasn't hiding a spiteful venom born from the same negativity as him. Dream was depressed.

Swap Sans noticed but couldn't help him, so he left. Unable to deal with Dream ravenous needs for his own endless well of positivity. He knew that walking away would hurt Dream, but staying was going to destroy Swap. Of course he was absolutely right.

Ink Sans never cared, either in my au where he is souless with pills that gives him a baseline of emotion all day every day, but no attachement. Or the chaos gremlins we all know and love. Dream's depression when it comes to his past and his brother, now also Cross and Swap. Was just annoying, something he should have pushed past by now. But Dream, as this maladaptive, needs to tell everyone he was fine. Ink left too, he had work to do, and Dream was ruining the vibe.

So it went a day where Dream faced the Nightmare gang alone. The more he fought, the more he could feel his own soul break. He just couldn't do it anymore. His own team had left him, but Nightmare didn't destroy his. Even his crazy relationship with Killer worked, it fucking worked when it shouldn't. But he couldn't, wouldn't let it show.

Because their is one reason why Nightmare never could feel how destroyed Dream was emotionally. Dream always coated his worst emotion in a pure positive aura. One reason was to not give Nightmare more ressource and power. But the other reason is that Dream legitimately thinks he has no right to cry or feel negative. He wasn't there when his brother needed him the most.

But in that last fight, Nightmare said something the pierced Dream's soul completely. He doesn't fully remember what it was. But it shattered his carefully laid shield. The unflow of negativity was so great from one soul that Nightmare stopped. The gang followed suit, noticing how much stronger the aura of their boss was. Dream didn't cry, though. He never cried. He didn't deserve to. So he simply took his soul, the last golden apple, and presented it. "You won, that's what you want, right? So take it." Dream threw the apple at Nightmare as he felt his own body grow lethargic.

Nightmare took the last apple, as he saw how defeated his brother truly was. He didn't let time for his body to dust over. He couldn't put a soul back when it was so fully rejected. Well, he could, but it wouldn't be easy. With his own negativity turned to dark liquid, he forced the apple back inside. Now, the apple itself was protected by the tar like substance that made Nightmare. But it also rendered Dream completely powerless. Nightmare never told the truth on why he kept Dream alive. Talking about wanting how far Dream could fall. About that, he loves picking up the trash that no one else wanted. Not that even in his blinding rage, the depression from Dream was so great he wanted to do everything to get him back.

But Dream was never the same. Because in a world like this, a world he had failed so completely. Broken dreams were all that was left.

More "Broken Dream".

More of " Broken dream". Man the silly little idea got a bit too much attention. How did one of my inspiration like it ???😭 Wthhhh

The is mainy the full body might change some details later ig. Lore is planed.

[elliee3e]

‘midnight heat’

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ‘x-men’ logan howlett x gn! reader fluff but sexual themes implied

specifically put ‘x-men’ in here because it’s when his two little kitty tufts are prominent:3 (ex: the gif). i love them sooo much waah i had to write smth about them y’all omfg. i thought of logan in x2 here but you can take anyone you want really, just keep in mind those are mentioned.

summary ;

logan’s ruts are coming early, making him feel feverish and unable to sleep. you try to help him ease back down.

author’s note ;

this is sooo short i’m sorry & it sucks guys but i need to post all my drafts😭 but i fear fluff isn’t my strong suit . . i should stick to smut

it’s the dead of night in the heart of winter. logan has you curled up to his body, a thick, meaty arm wrapped around your lower stomach through the t-shirt you’re wearing. however, it’s hard to stay peacefully asleep when all the man can do is toss and turn. you’re just trying to sleep, for christ’s sake, and he can’t stop being restless. eventually, you just give up and shift away from him, curling up to the pillows with a little grunt. he reached out for you, but groaned in response to not having your warm body against his anymore or in reach, the discomfort finally managing to stir him awake.

the realisation also made him grumble to himself and try to go back to sleep — but it was difficult; he was starting to burn up and even after removing his shirt and throwing the sheets to the side, he couldn’t seem to cool off at all, a sheen of sweat matting down the dark hair on his chest, and even starting to bead on his forehead.

that’s when he knew he had to get up, at least wash his face if not shower.

however, as he got up, he groaned again, feeling lightheaded and hazy.

this definitely wasn’t normal.

once he finally managed to walk and get his balance — using the wall as guidance — he entered the adjacent bathroom: grabbing a towel and dunking it under cold water as soon as he turned the sink on, wiping his forehead and taking a glance at himself in the mirror.

he looked awful. his hair was messy, face slick and shiny with sweat, as he wiped at the stickiness that began forming back on his face almost immediately again. it felt like a fever but then again, he rarely caught those, no, he basically never did.

it would have been too out of place, but it being anything else wouldn’t have made sense either. his thoughts however were interrupted as he heard your voice speak up, because in his absence, you had started to wake up too — turning around in an instant to look at you standing in the doorframe.

“lo? what’s going on?” you’d mumble tiredly, rubbing your sleepy eyes. a little growl bubbled up in logan’s throat at the sight of you, all sleepy and pretty like you always were, he tried to ignore the little tug he felt in his boxers.

“nothin’, bub. jus’ a fever.” he merely managed to grunt out, turning back to the sink to heavily sigh, his hands holding onto the sides of it tightly for balance, but it was clearly more than that.

“fever?” you asked, echoing his words. you didn’t believe that for a second, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion and instant worry as you walked over to him, taking advantage of the way he instinctively turned his head to look down at you: allowing you to press the back of your hand against his hot skin, which felt ice cold compared to him. “baby, you’re burning—we need to go to the medical lab.”

he immediately shook his head at your concerned words, shutting off the idea in an instant. “no, no. ‘m fine, trust me. besides, it’s too early to go now. don’t wanna wake anyone else up for this, ‘s stupid.” he huffed, pulling away from your hand. but to you it wasn’t stupid. his words made you sigh; you hated when he’d deny he needed any help.

“logan— no, come on, baby, this is serious. we gotta get you help.” you started arguing, trying to at least even get him to look back at you again as he was now just hunched over the sink. and his breath did hitch for a moment when you called him baby, which was unusual, it had him feeling tingly inside.

he finally turned his head to look at you, still sweaty, as he tried to stand up straighter. “darlin’, told you ‘s fine— nothing more than just a—“ he paused, his eyes almost squeezing back shut as suddenly a wave of dizziness overcame him again, a curse leaving his mouth as he gripped onto the sink tightly again, so as not to lose his balance. this didn’t help ease your concern at all, as you quickly tried to help him balance himself. “l-logan— listen to me-“ you said, trying to keep him conscious too as you noticed him start to lose it: but it was hard to focus on even keeping him upright, your body trying to hold his up had him feeling worse and hotter.

“baby, up, gotta stay up— let’s get you back to bed,” your words floated hazily around in his clouded mind, and you were starting to struggle with him as he didn’t want to cooperate still. you were trying your best and he groaned, leaning up against you, his hand still gripping the sink tightly.

“enough, listen, ‘m fine, just need to sit down, alright?” he grunted, his body so close to yours now you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. you huffed at his words and rolled your eyes, but sat him down on the closed toilet seat.

“okay, okay. just sit and stay there, i’m gonna get something. i’ll be right back.” you told him, hearing him grumble faintly as you left the bathroom — he hated it, hated how you told him to ‘sit’ and to ‘stay’ like he was some damn dog, but yet, the thought stirred something up in him, and made him burn up even more.

thankfully, it wasn’t long before you came back into the bathroom: with what looked like some ice cubes wrapped up in a cold rag. you walked back over to him, standing in between his spread thighs, his big hands instinctively going up to paw at your waist and hips as he tilted his head up at you so you could press the cold rag to his forehead — a low groan and sigh of relief leaving his lips as the coldness made contact with his burning skin.

“that’s it, feels better, doesn’t it?” you sighed, one hand keeping the coldness pressed to his forehead and the other starting to run through his hair, through the little tufts on his head.

“mmph.” he grumbled, feeling as you then moved it to press against his neck, hearing a slight wince from him before he eased into it — your little ‘shh’s’ shushing him too.

he leaned back against the toilet seat, only serving to make you giggle softly as you took the cold rag from his face and instead started to rake your fingers through his coarse hair, scratching gently at the little two tufts on them. “let’s get you back to bed now, lo. get some rest for the morning, hm?” you hummed, to which he grumbled again — but didn’t protest. you helped him up and to the bedroom, feeling him collapse onto the bed instantly; the mattress sinking down slightly with his weight. you chuckled and got into bed with him, not even bothering to pull the covers over you two as he was already hot enough.

“thanks for… takin’ care of me, darlin’..” he mumbled hoarsely, his throat slightly scratched up, as he glanced over at you: your eyes looking back at him softly, illuminated by the pale moonlight that highlighted your small smile at his words, as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, the scruff there grazing your lips, and slipped your bare thigh between his own.

“anytime.”

[plethorawrites]

hey! what about clark who always makes you ride him because he’s afraid that with him on top he might hurt you cause he’ll lose control of his powers?

Oookkayyy. I believe I'm veering into some very precarious territory, lmao. But, yess, I do have thoughts! (NSFW content)

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Despite the fact that Clark Kent was 6'3 (while slouching), 225 pounds, and otherwise incredibly built, he was perhaps the least physically intimidating person alive. In fact, he was practically terrified of his own features—the same ones that made you utterly melt.

It wasn't until you discovered his identity as Superman that you realized the reason his hands never actually touched you during hugs, and he preferred you holding his arm over holding hands with each other. He was afraid. He always had been, in a way, but it was usually manageable.

That was because he wasn't trying to pursue a relationship.

You were affectionate, craving attention in whatever form possible, from cuddling on the couch to just grazing his pinky with yours while at lunch. And you wished he would return it more than he did. He wanted to. He really did. It was just so damn hard when he was terrified to hurt you. He'd never forgive himself if he did something that harmed you in any way.

The more physical your relationship became, the harder it became to reduce contact to the minimum amount he could get away with. You wanted more and so did he. But he could crush you without even meaning to, break your bones by just holding your hips, maybe even something worse than both of those things.

No, if you needed intimacy, he would gladly give it to you, since he wanted it just as badly, but he'd refrain from doing anything that could cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort or harm. You, being on top, was the only sensible answer.

Not to mention, incredibly attractive.

You always were, but there was something about the angle, about him just laying there, staring at you, watching you get lost in your own euphoria that drove him insane. The way your hair kept falling into your face, your fingernails kept digging further into the skin of his shoulders or chest, how your eyes sparkled brighter than usual.

To say nothing of how you actually felt, your hips soft against his bare skin with every slight roll you made, grinding against him slowly to prolong your time together as long as possible.

He could barely handle your usual smile, but the one you were giving him right now, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to suppress a little huff of laughter made his heart clench.

"What?" He wondered, his breathing a bit heavy. He was doing a terrible job of keeping his composure and was pretty sure you could tell.

You shook your head, your hands planted firmly on his chest while admiring the way his head always tilted when he was curious. "Nothing," you mumbled, the word taking a little while to find since you had to focus enough to remember how to speak. "You just..." Your lips pursed as one especially long drag of your hips made your breath hitch. "... You're like a pillow prince." You teased a moment later.

Clark's mouth dropped a little, in surprise but not offense. You weren't exactly wrong. He was laying there, his hands behind his head, watching you do all the work, like always. But it wasn't because he wanted to. In fact, he was itching to touch you, to feel your soft skin under his hands and it was taking all his restraint not to flip you over. He just couldn't risk it.

"Maybe I just like the view," he replied, his hips jerking up slightly when he felt you clench around him. His jaw tightened at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he reveled in the feeling for a moment. "You—" he swallowed, his eyes opening. "—are you so perfect on top of me."

Another bashful smile spread across your face as you dropped your head and resisted the urge to move your hair, afraid that if he moved his hands, he'd lose control entirely.

"You like watching me struggle," you muttered, your hands moving to his shoulders to grip them tightly, your movements slowing to a stop, trying to catch your breath. "Admit it..." You panted. "... you're a sadist."

He laughed, his body shaking under you. "It's alright, sweetheart," he assured you. "You're doing good for me."

You hummed slightly at the praise, closing your eyes for a moment. "It's exhausting," you admitted, your legs killing you despite the enjoyment. "Always so... difficult."

"I know," he responded sympathetically, hesitantly removing his hands from behind your back, hovering them over your thighs for a while, contemplating before carefully setting his hands on them. He just couldn't resist anymore. You were too damn tempting.

You moved your hands to cover his, a small smile tugging at your lips. "You gonna help me, for once?" You murmur, trying to joke but failing. The words came out with too much lust for that.

He nodded slightly, focusing on making sure his fingers didn't accidentally dig into your skin too hard. "Tell me," he said seriously, staring into your eyes. "The second I take it too far."

You nodded, leaning down to kiss him. "You're not going to hurt me," you whispered. "I trust you."

[aquamarixx]

the royal treatment

all Barou knows is that he is the king and you are his queen and you deserve to be pampered and treated like the royalty that you are. pairing barou shouei x independent! reader tags post manga timeskip, aged up characters, fluff navigation

Barou Shouei never really thought much about love or relationships. Unlike some of his Ubers teammates (specifically the two idiots, Aiku and Lorenzo), he didn’t waste his time chasing after meaningless flings. His focus was simple: becoming the best, dominating the pitch, and living life on his own terms.

But that didn’t mean he was against the idea of settling down one day. He just assumed it would happen far into the future—if ever.

And then you walked into his life.

You, the epitome of independence. You, who seemed to balance work, hobbies, and friendships like it’s a sport. You didn’t just have your life together; you owned it.

Barou wasn’t just interested—he was hooked.

So hooked, that he couldn’t stop himself from bragging about you to his teammates. He didn’t care if they teased him or laughed about it. He was confident in one thing: you were his future wife.

“So,” Barou began one day in the locker room, voice full of conviction as he’s taking off his jersey, “I’ve met my future wife.”

The room froze. Lorenzo paused mid-stretch, his brows shooting up. Niko peeked out from behind his locker, while Aryu’s head whipped so fast while he was adjustment. Even Aiku, who was swiping through a dating app, perked up at the declaration.

“Your wife?” Lorenzo repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Barou, you’ve got to, you know, at least ask her out before claiming that.”

Barou scowled, glaring at Lorenzo. “I am dating her, you moron.”

A stunned silence followed. Aryu raised a perfectly arched brow, breaking the quiet. “You? With a girlfriend? Since when? How did we miss this glamorous piece of news?”

Barou crossed his arms, irritated by their reactions. “It’s not my obligation to announce my personal life. Consider yourselves honored that I even shared this with you lowly peasants.”

“You kidnapped her, didn’t you?” Niko muttered, already burying his face in his hands. “Oh, God, you kidnapped her, and now we’re accessories to the crime.”

Aiku snorted, leaning lazily against his locker. “Is she real, though?” he asked, a Cheshire grin spreading across his face.

“You guys are asking the wrong question,” Lorenzo cut in, “What’s her vital statistics?”

“IS. SHE. REAL?” Aiku repeated, louder this time.

Barou clenched his fists, his teeth grinding. “She’s real. She’s perfect, and you’re all a bunch of assholes,” he growled.

Lorenzo, unbothered, leaned forward with a teasing smirk. “Soooo… what’s the catch?”

Barou glared daggers at him, but Lorenzo only grinned wider, clearly enjoying how whipped the King was for the mysterious girlfriend none of them believed existed.

“She’s perfect, as I said. Hardworking, independent, doesn’t need anyone, but…” Barou’s voice trailed off, and for a moment, his teammates froze.

The man who never hesitated, who spoke with the conviction of a king, suddenly hesitating? That alone was enough to make them hang onto his next words with bated breath.

“But I can fix her,” Barou said, his tone firm with finality.

A beat of silence followed before the locker room erupted into laughter.

“Fix her?” Niko was the first to recover, a rare grin twitching at the corners of his usually serious face. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She’s too independent!” Barou barked, crossing his arms like he’d just declared the most scandalous truth imaginable. “She does everything on her own, won’t let anyone help her. She doesn’t even let me carry her groceries!”

Lorenzo leaned back lazily. “So… let me get this straight. You want to ‘fix’ her by making her… dependent on you?”

“Exactly,” Barou replied without hesitation, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She deserves to live like a queen. I’ll take care of everything—cleaning, cooking, carrying her crap—whatever she needs. She won’t have to lift a finger.”

The room fell into stunned silence again, though this time it was half disbelief and half amusement. Aryu placed a hand over his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “That’s not how fixing someone works, King,” he said, shaking his head with mock sorrow.

“What do you mean?” Barou glared at him, his brows furrowing in genuine confusion. “She works too hard. If she just relied on me, I could give her everything she wants. Everything.”

Aiku draped a heavy arm over Barou’s shoulder, his weight forcing the striker to shift. “You can’t just say you’re gonna ‘fix’ her, man,” Aiku said, barely stifling his laughter. “She’s gonna leave you if you do that.”

Barou shoved Aiku’s arm off with a scowl. “What do you know about relationships, huh? She deserves to be treated like a queen. I’m not letting her live life working herself to death when I can make it easier for her.”

The room burst into laughter again, Aiku’s booming chuckle echoing as Niko and Lorenzo shook their heads in disbelief.

“Good luck with that, King,” Lorenzo teased. “Something tells me your ‘queen’ is gonna have a different idea about this whole ‘fixing’ thing.”

Barou scoffed, brushing off their comments with a wave of his hand. What did these idiots know about romance anyway?

As far as he was concerned, he was doing everything right. He wasn’t changing a thing. He was the King, and a Queen deserved to be spoiled, not burdened by her own independence.

And that’s exactly what he does.

Whenever Barou visits your apartment, it’s like having a maid—no, scratch that—a very devoted, borderline obsessive maid. One who insists on taking care of everything, despite your constant protests.

The moment he steps through your door, your anxiety skyrockets because you know he’s about to get to work. Barou cleans your kitchen, mops and vacuums your floors, and even airs out your mattress. You always try to stop him, insisting, “I can do it myself! I’ll get to it later when my visitor isn’t here!”

But Barou never listens.

The one exception you don’t mind? His cooking. It’s your favorite thing about his visits. You even bought him a cute apron that says Kiss the Chef as an excuse to plant a kiss on his cheek every time he asks you to taste test something. He wears it without complaint, though the smug smirk on his face every time you lean in for that kiss is hard to miss.

Grocery shopping with him, however, is a different story. It’s embarrassing. If you can’t reach something on a high shelf, Barou will appear behind you in seconds, grab the item effortlessly, and says closely in your ear, “You look cute. Just point to what you need, and I’ll get it for you.” And he says it loud enough that the nearby shoppers definitely hear.

Barou? Completely unbothered. You? Ready to melt into the floor.

To make matters worse, he has his own grocery list for your apartment. Things he noticed you’re running low on or staples he insists you should have. You end up walking beside him, chatting about what you’re cooking this week or what you need to stock up on, the two of you looking like an old married couple.

But the final straw came one day when you walked into the bathroom and saw him sorting your laundry. Your underwear.

“Barou!” you shrieked, your face burning as he casually held up a pair of lacy panties. “What are you doing?”

“Doing laundry for you, obviously,” he replied, completely unfazed.

You snatched the panties from his hand, feeling like your entire soul just leave your body. “I can do it myself, Barou!”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to.”

You groaned, shoving him out of the bathroom as he towered over you, still looking annoyingly smug. “Out. Now.”

Barou let out a low chuckle, his voice laced with amusement. “You’re so stubborn. I told you—you don’t have to do everything alone anymore.”

“Just… let me do my own laundry!” you shouted, slamming the bathroom door in his face.

Barou didn’t argue further, but you could hear his voice from the other side of the door, muttering, “You’d save so much time if you just let me do it.”

You huffed, shaking your head. Loving Barou Shouei came with its quirks. And while he drove you absolutely insane sometimes, there was no denying that beneath all the frustration, you loved just how much he cared.

So sometimes, you like to get back at him. You just couldn’t help but tease him. It was just too easy to mess with Barou when you knew exactly how to push his buttons.

Like the time you grabbed a toolbox and casually walked around the apartment. He was lounging on your couch, topless for some reason (the man had no shame, though you didn’t mind the view), scrolling through game highlights on his phone.

When you walked past him, toolbox in hand, crouching by the TV shelf in your shorts and oversized shirt, his suspicious gaze immediately locked onto you. His attention flickered from his phone to you and back to the toolbox.

“What’s that? Why do you have the toolbox?” he asked, his voice already tinged with panic.

You didn’t answer, keeping up the ruse as you disappeared into your bedroom.

“Princess. Why do you have the fucking toolbox?” he called louder, panic now fully evident.

The sound of clattering from the other room sent him scrambling to his feet. When he stormed into the bedroom, he froze, staring at the IKEA bookshelf parts strewn across the floor around you.

“What the actual fuck?” he snapped, immediately snatching the toolbox from your hands. “You can’t build that. I’ll build it for you.”

You pouted, whining, “I can do it.”

“Sit,” he ordered, patting the floor beside him.

“But—”

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asked, glaring at you, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk. The visible vein on his forehead making you laugh.

“But I can do it,” you repeated, your voice softer this time.

“I know you can, princess,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “But let me do it for you. Okay?”

“Shouei” you said softly. “Why are you so obsessed with babying me? I’m fine on my own, you know.”

He stopped mid-reading of the manual, setting down the paper on the floor. “Because you don’t have to be. You’ve been doing everything on your own for so long, so you don’t need to anymore. I’m here.”

You sighed, feeling both touched and slightly exasperated. “Look, I get that you mean well, but I’ve girlbossed so hard these past few years that I physically can’t babygirl anymore. It’s just not in me.”

Barou blinked, processing your words. Then, to your surprise, a slow smirk spread across his face.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said simply. “You can keep girlbossing. I’ll still treat you like a queen.”

You raised a brow, trying not to laugh. “But you call me princess.”

“Only because you said me calling you ‘queen’ is cringe,” he replied, moving closer and tilting your chin up so your eyes met his.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Because it is cringe!”

“Princess it is, then,” he said, gently pulling your hands away and holding your gaze. “So just let me do things for you, okay? Let me show you how much I love you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, even as he leaned down to kiss your forehead before traveling to capture your lips with heated passion.

No matter how stubborn you were, Barou was always more so. And though you didn’t need fixing, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to have someone who thought the world of you, someone who loved you enough to want to spoil you in every way he could.

Maybe you didn’t need him to do it. But sometimes, it was nice to let him.

amari's notes: i didn't expect this post to blow and there are a lot of ideas that came from this! i've been quite busy the past few days so it took me a while to write this, especially since i'm at a work bootcamp. thanks for the request as well @inu1gf, i tweaked it a bit but hope you and the everyone enjoy it! barou has always been a wildcard for me but he has definitely grown on me. i've already drafted another fic for him.

taglist: @inu1gf @t3chn0chan @ellaaa505 @mellowmin @merlucide @narcjsistx @inkbyjazzy @shumeow-h @hoekageyama @fabulouxity

okay, hear me out, barou shouei meets you, fiercely independent woman and immediately declares to his Ubers teammates you're "his future wife".

but here's the kicker, he's all like "i can fix her". he's convinced that fixing you means turning you into a princess who’ll never have to lift a finger because he’ll do everything for you, making you completely dependent on him as his perfect little future wife.

his Ubers teammates, completely baffled and just looks at him weird because thats not how "fixing" her works.

check here for the fic!

[gothamrain]

I MARRIED MY STALKER —more on page 4

Tim Drake x reader || part 1 || 1760 words

a/n: okay so some context, this is supposed to be an isekai’d reader. only been in this universe for a month but knows dc lore. also i wrote 90% of this literally 2 years ago lol i stay silly

It was a strange situation. Laughable, in a twisted kinda way. You knew you had a stalker. You hear him follow you home every night after work. Or, well, morning technically. You get off that late.

You've never been one to write something off as paranoia. Especially now that you lived in Gotham. Especially especially since you lived in the Narrows. Like you're not stupid.

Whenever you would turn around, checking your surroundings, you wouldn’t find him. The footsteps weren't on the ground, you've elicited. He was up in the rooftops, doing parkour. Great.

You really hoped it wasn't a supervillain. Imagine that, you're given the miraculous opportunity to carve out a new life for yourself in a big city and you almost immediately get killed horrifically by a guy in a halloween costume before you even get a chance. Actually, with the way your luck goes, that checks out.

It was becoming increasingly clear the predator didn't just know your work schedule, either. When you'd go out for groceries, or to a diner, he’d often find you then too, following you around town. It was like he was studying your behavior patterns, which actually is pretty typical of a true old fashioned stalker, now that you think of it.

Even so. He never got any closer than he always did. Never actually attacking you. And eventually, you got used to his presence, thinking nothing of it when you heard the occasional scuff of boots against the concrete and metal of the city.

But the strangest thing happened as you shambled home from your second job tonight, eager to get on with your evening.

You see him.

Or, at least, you see his shadow. His form silhouetted against the wall, standing bold as he eclipsed the red glow coming from some sort of neon sign.

He doesn't move, as you stare at the shadow on the wall. Which strikes you as odd, if not terrifying, because you had gotten the vibe that this man knew what he was doing. It was like he wanted you to know he was there.

And you recognize the silhouette. That's Red fucking Robin.

You take a deep breath. You are relieved, truthfully. Even if it was clear he thought of you as some sort of target.. Or maybe he was protecting you from the real stalker, and the supervillain theory was truer than you'd hoped…

“I don't believe I have any information you would want,” you call out, trying to figure just what the hell he thinks he’s doing.

“That’s not necessarily true,” his voice is different than you expected.

“So like. You gonna beat the shit out of me or can we go up to my apartment and have this discussion over a pot of coffee?”

“I— I would never hurt you,” his calm and deep voice cracked for a second, like he couldn't believe what you just implied. You know as if he hadn't been stalking you almost the entire time you'd been in this goddamn city.

“So my place it is, then,” you confirmed.

“You’d invite a dangerous vigilante into your home?”

“Are you saying you don’t have the ability to ‘let yourself in’ at any time you please?”

“Well, no,”

“Then I don't see how me voluntarily letting you in is any less dangerous.”

And that's how you wound up in this situation, nervously pouring a mug of coffee for one of Gotham's infamous vigilantes.

You were glad that he for some reason took this softer route. As you recall, whenever a Bat wants to have a talk with someone they usually just appear in the shadows of their home or office, scaring the bejeebus out of them.

You couldn't completely tell, because of the mask, but you got the feeling he wasn't looking around. He'd already studied your apartment, most likely. His eyes were trained solely on you.

"Room for cream and sugar?" you ask. You know the answer. You're a barista in the daytime, and you've served a certain Wayne Ent. CEO more than a few times already. Which, now that he could be your stalker, makes sense. He was scoping you out. Great.

"No thanks. I prefer it black."

"Dark like you, right?"

He cracked the smallest of smiles as he took the mug from your hands, like he was holding back from outright grinning. Strange. That was a really lame and overdone joke. Maybe he doesn't get out much.

"I like it black too," you ran a hand through your hair,

"I know you’ve been following me around," he looked a little guilty at your accusation, "but I don’t know why. I haven’t done anything suspect—“

“I’m protecting you,” Tim butt in.

“I’m in danger?”

He shifted uncomfortably.

"…I can’t say that you aren’t.”

“Goddamnit," you set the mugs down on the table a little too aggressively, "So what am I looking at here? Joker? Poison Ivy? Condiment Man?”

Tim looked sheepish as you poured the coffee into the mugs. As much as he could with that mask, anyway. He grabbed a mug and took a long sip, swallowing loudly. Ah, it was a little too hot, but he was trying too much to act cool to let on to the fact he just burned himself. He let out a breath to cool off his tongue, but played it off as a sigh.

“I can’t tell you.”

You sighed deeply, yeah, that’s what you thought he’d say.

Well. As much as you didn’t like the sudden interruption of your new life, you had been wondering when you were going to be pulled into something like this. You knew it was inevitable, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.. Right? People don’t get sent to other dimensions for no reason, right? And besides, now that you’ve settled in, you’ve started to get bored.

"So what’s our game plan?” you asked as you took a sip. Ah, a little too hot.

“Game plan?”

“You know. The part where you’ve got an overly complicated plan to catch this criminal and you need my help as bait,”

He smiled at you, incredulous, “You’d want to be bait?”

“Not. Necessarily. No,” you took another sip to cover up your eagerness, “I just want to help,”

“Helping is my job, Sweetheart,” he took a long sip to look roguish, “you’re a civilian,”

“Yeah but,” you tried not to sound put down by his reluctance to let you into his world, “You— I… I’m interested in not being a civilian, if you know what I mean…”

Tim stared at you, trying to compute what you were asking of him. Feeling silly, you put up your dukes and mimed punching someone to make your point. It was really cute, actually. He grinned at you.

He did not expect.. this. He thought you’d be scared. He thought he could metaphorically take you to a scary movie just so you’d cuddle into him out of fright. He did not think your brain would’ve picked the ‘fight’ option out of ‘fight or flight’. Maybe he underestimated you. Miscalculated his moves. Albeit, this might be way more interesting…

“Train me,” you tried not to sound too desperate.

You held your breath, waiting for his answer.

Tim focused on the coffee, letting what you just said linger in the air. This was a dirt cheap brand of grounds, burnt and acidic. He’d have to get you some real coffee soon.

“Okay.”

You released the air in your lungs with one big huff. Hopefully your breath didn’t smell too bad, as you basically washed his face in it. Even a strand of his bangs fluttered. Real smooth, dumbass. But you quickly forgot that insecurity as your brain caught up with what he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,”

“No interview or anything? Not that I can’t be trusted, but how would you know I can be trusted?” hey stupid, stop trying to talk him out of this.

“Well I already uh,” he coughed awkwardly, “I already know a lot about you,”

“Ah, yeah, you were stalking me, weren’t you?”

You had no idea what the fuck kinda info he could have considering you don’t really have a background to check in this universe, but okay.

Tim scratched the back of his neck, “Yeah.. Sorry about that. It was all for your safety, I promise,”

You giggled, “Thank you, Mr. Robin, I do feel safe now, knowing it was you,”

“Oh uh,” you could see a blush start peeking out from under his mask, “My pleasure— I mean uh, it’s my duty to you. —As you are a citizen of Gotham, I mean.”

“So when do we star—“

You were cut off by his communicator beeping. He put a hand up to some earpiece he had.

“On it. Be right there,” Tim told someone over the line.

He looked back at you guiltily. You waved your hand in a “it’s fine” gesture.

“Go be a hero Mr. Robin,” you stood to start taking the mugs to the sink.

He held up a finger to ask you for a second as he basically dumped the entire mug into his mouth and gulped it all down. He parted from the mug with a gasp of satisfaction, and you snickered as you finally took it from him.

He stood and brushed himself off while you busied yourself at the sink. You didn’t really worry about whether he was about to disappear into the night like he was never there in the first place. He’d be back. Watching you in the shadows like he had been every night you’d been here...

Did he know you weren’t ‘native’, so to speak? Maybe whatever trouble you’re in now is apart of how you got here in the first place. You’ll have to ask him later…

A hand found its place on your shoulder, and you turned around to him fumbling with his communicator with the other hand. You felt a buzz in your pocket.

“Here’s my number, I’ll text you later, okay?”

You noticed how he didn’t even go through the formality of asking you for your number. Guess we’re a little past pretending this is a normal interaction between two people who want to get to know each other better. You smiled at him as he started making his way to your door.

“Bye Mr. Robin,”

Chuckling at the nickname, he turned back one last time as he held the door, “Bye Y/n,” he grinned at you before making his disappearance back into the shadows of the night.

[fairestwriting]

Azul, Ruggie, and Lilia seeing their crush sleeping with a plush that looks like them! (An octopus plush, hyena doll, and a bat!)

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

When he tries to think of a sea creature that could make for a good design for a plush toy, octopi definitely aren’t the first to come to mind. It’s not like he’s never seen an octopus plush before. He just can’t bring himself to think they look cute and cuddly enough, they read more like a marketing mistake to him— or that’s what he would want others to believe, at least.

He actually has a bit of a soft spot for plush toys. They’re not much of a thing back home, where fabric usage is restricted only to things that can survive the harshness of the salt water. The plushies he’s seen for sale there aren’t as cute looking as the ones he’s seen on land, he’s firmly decided, then kept it to himself because the thought of having opinions on “children’s toys” at his age feels too embarrassing.

Azul maybe had a passing thought about you owning an octopus plush before, but dismissed it as him being kind of desperate. After all, even landmade octopus plushes aren’t really that cute, are they… you’d probably prefer something that’s easier to hold. And that’s if you even like that kind of stuff at all— He honestly thinks of you so highly sometimes, the idea of you owning plush toys feels unrealistic. Even if that thought itself doesn’t make that much sense.

You maybe had invited him over to study, the day he walks in and sees you with that plush, and it almost made him trip on nothing when he did. ”Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep! Would you prefer I come back some other time?” He says in a flustered rush, it’s really a trial for him to get his thoughts back together if you, on top of everything else, ask him to stay. Inside his mind, the scene is crystallized like a crucial memory, and he feels flustered all over again when he comes back to it. If you two did study that day, he didn’t memorize a single word.

𐙚 Ruggie Bucchi

He’s seen little plush hyenas on storefronts back home, there’s been periods where they were trendy in his neighborhood too. Maybe he’s even mended one of the toys before, or purchased one or two to give out as a gift. They’re all far from being high quality, probably even a little wonky looking, he never thought too much about them.

If you ever expressed an interest in plushies, he’s definitely made you a little something as a gift. Maybe a plush keychain, since sewing a doll by hand would require an amount of time he sadly doesn’t have. It may have been a hyena or not, when doing this his first thought is to go for whatever your favorite animal is, and hyenas aren’t exactly the most popular, right? The association of the gift with himself doesn’t really come to mind at first.

Then, one day, he comes over to your dorm room to check up on you — it’s just a thing he likes doing from time to time — and he sees you asleep with the plushie in your arms. Ruggie’s heart melts, it immediately reminds him of home, he can’t resist taking a sneaky picture to keep to himself. “Shishi, I didn’t know you missed me so much while I was busy”, he lovingly teases you when you wake up. He’ll be curious about where you got it, wanting to know more about the “little guy”, as he calls it.

The whole thing makes him feel really proud of himself. He takes a little break to hang out with you and just relax for a moment, so you ”don’t have to feel lonely” when he leaves for his Lounge shift. One day, you come back to your bedroom to find out that a yellow bandana was tied around your doll’s neck, a tiny, embroidered thing made to look like the one Ruggie wears with his dorm uniform.

𐙚 Lilia Vanrouge

There’s no surprises here, because he 100% bought the plushie and gifted it to you himself. You couldn’t possibly beat him to it when he’s so often thinking about how endearing you are doing this or that. He walked by the store, the idea popped up in his mind, and so he executed his plan. It was only a matter of time until he would get to see you being cute with it.

Lilia’s very straightforward about it. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be too sad whenever I’m away,” He tells you when he hands over the gift, smiling wide. The plushie has an oddly really specific look, being bigger than what you’d imagine for a bat, with bead eyes that were almost the exact same color as his own. He may or may not have had it slightly altered. He was really a man on a mission with this one.

He already seems to linger around your dorm way too often, straight up inviting himself is a line he won’t cross, but he sure manages to find a lot of excuses to be around. Since giving you the plushie, it gets even more frequent. You hear lots of cheeky excuses, things about how he decided to try out Malleus’ exploration hobby, or supposed dorm vice leader duties that definitely don't exist. And he knows you don’t believe any of it too, he’s just being coy. It’s basically just one of the many ways he flirts with you.

When he shows up, Lilia tiptoes the line between your nightly free time and the moment you go to bed. He knows he could probably just watch you from outside the window, but where’s the fun in that? He wants to actually be allowed to get as close as he can, instead of just staring at a distant image through a glass pan. The night he finally sees it, he can’t stop smiling to himself. How silly, for an old man like him to get so giddy over something so small, he thinks while he giggles. You wake up to a single, slightly cryptic feeling text saying he’s happy you enjoyed his gift so much.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[trustmypoison]

SVT when you get a new piercing

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘Hear me out, what if y/n pierced their nipples? How would seventeen react? And how would he notice? You told him or like he felt it or when he slid his hand or lifted it up. Please mention how the revelation happens and then reaction 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 ‘

TW/CW: Some of these are suggestive, bordering on a little bit of smut. MDNI. 

A/N: I have some serious trauma when it comes to nipple piercings. More power to you if you like yours, but I did not like mine. 😂

You can’t hide anything from him - Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Minghao

You’re acting suspicious and it starts to worry him. He doesn’t want to pressure you into telling him what’s going on, but he’s really starting to think that something is wrong. Say you guys share locations for safety purposes, like you like to know when he gets settled in the hotel while traveling and he likes to know that you made it home from work when he’s going to be working late. He sneaks a peek at your location during a break one day and sees that you’re at… a piecing shop? His interest is piqued, but he plays it cool when you both get home, casually what you got into today. If you try to deflect or lie, he just calls it out. Like, “uh huh, and how was the piercing shop? 🤨’. You know you’re busted, so you tell him about your surprise. And he is pleasantly surprised! Just don’t try to pull one over on him like that, because it probably won’t work. 

He feels them when he hugs you - Joshua, Woozi

When he comes home from a long week of just missing each other due to conflicting schedules, he pulls you into a hug immediately. It’s really all he’s thought about all week. You’re already in your pajamas without a bra, and it feels… different? But it’s only been a week, so why?? He pulls back and does a quick scan of you and asks if you’re okay. You say ‘of course,’ and he’s not really convinced, but he’s too tired to argue. It’s when he’s got you curled up into his side in bed later that it clicks. Imagine being shaken awake at 3am and opening your eyes to him staring at you and asking, “Do you have something to tell me?” You may or may not be going back to sleep, who’s to say. 

He sees them through your bra/shirt - Jun, DK, Mingyu

Similar to the previous group, he’s just been missing you due to conflicting schedules. But finally, you guys have a free night to see each other! You both are so tired that you both decide to just stay in and order something. You’re wearing a form-fitting top and he’s really trying not to look, honest. He wants to be respectful and he cares to hear about how your week has been, but he also misses your body and being close to you. He glances at your chest, totally meaning for it to just be a glance, but he notices a difference. He reaches out in confusion. “Uh, baby, what is that?” He does not know how to handle this reveal when you show him, at least at first. But when he gets it together, the food will be put aside, conversation totally forgotten. 

He feels them before or during sex - Seungcheol, Chan

It’s been a long week and there’s a lot of frustration pent up. So you aren’t totally surprised when he scoops you up to go to the bedroom as soon as he gets home. It’s as his hand creeps up your shirt or that your shirt comes off entirely, that he realizes something is different. It feels different, or a little sparkle catches his eye. I fully believe that this little revelation would totally change the pace. Whatever you guys were doing before is fast-paced and maybe a little aggressive. But it’ll turn into something sweet and soft, with a little (or a lot) of body worship. Later, he’ll tell you how much he likes them, but for now he’ll show you. 

You have a reaction that gives it away - Hoshi, Seungkwan, Vernon

My experience with this type of piercing is that you don’t realize how many things you bump into until you have it. So, say you guys have just been busy and not really had a lot of time to be intimate lately. You’re in a rush and bump into something. What should have been a small wince that you can keep moving through makes you stop and cry out in pain. He’s borderline panicked, asking if you’re okay. He doesn’t really let you brush it off, wanting to check for bruises or cuts with genuine concern, so eventually, you just have to admit to your little surprise that you were saving for him. And he is surprised and he’ll appreciate it later tonight! But you might get scolded a little bit for now to be more careful. 

[livehorses]

This movie didn't approach the situation of d!$$@ppe@rances in Mexico by the hands of cartels with the seriousness it needed. This is a very sensitive subject, as m@$$ $h00tings are in USA.

It's not a subject you should take lightly. It's still a fresh open scar that keeps bleeding. You don't have any idea of how many people d!$$@ppe@r in one day in my country ESPECIALLY trans people, who are one of the most murd3r3d population because of transph0bia.

The constant fear I live in as a woman because I can d!$$@ppe@r at any time, at any place haunts me endlessly everytime I step into the streets. I have to watch over my back, suspect of any man who remains staring at me or shares the same road and direction, having constantly to talk on the phone with my mother in isolated locations until I reach my destination just for her to know I'm alright... I repeat, please, please, please, don't talk lightly about d!$$@ppe@ranc3$ and k!dn@pp!ng$ in México, it's really triggering!!!!

It's not like I believe that n@rc0s can't redeem themselves, don't get me wrong, but the fact that the main character changed just because she transitioned and she becomes a saint (literally) by the end of the movie is just nauseating, to say the least. Imagine a movie of a N@z! officer becoming good and helping h0l0cc@ust survivors to identify gone family members. It might've happen, but imagine victimizing the agressor and blaming the real victims, which is what happens in Emilia Pérez.

This movie keeps perpetuating harmful stereotypes that us Mexicans have been really trying hard to debunk for years, and more than ever, now that certain President is in the power, and he said that México was ruled by the mafia and he's bringing all migrants back to México.

International audience, supporting Emilia Pérez isn't helping our situation, it's only aggravating it.

hi tumblr! this is a not-so-friendly-but-really-tired reminder that please please PLEASEEEE stop giving emilia pérez your time and energy!!!

i'm not so eloquent to enlist all the things that are wrong with the movie so here's a quick thread i found on xtwitter:

i'm not trans myself but members of the trans community have also critized the narrative of the movie because of this

yes, i know we all love musicals but this one? ain't it. i know everybody's eager with trans representation moreover if it's a trans actor in a main role but this film? ain't it. really. and not this trans woman, a full racist and classist who called 'gatos' (cats, derogative) to mexicans for not liking the movie. really. just so you know this movie is soooo bad that not only mexico but all latin american countries are so angry because of it. that's why it hasn't released here yet.

also, to all people who tries to defend this movie as 'a cultural, policial and social diagnosis of mexican reality that mexican film industry always tries to hide under the rug' (in words of the film press campaign that defends emilia pérez). there are dozens of mexican films made by mexican directors and screenwriters that talk about the violence in the country, most of them with all the hurt and respect (even the not-dramatic ones) that is needed in a topic like this and not making it a cheap musical. here are some of them:

the most recent? sujo which was released last year too and talks about a niño sicario (a child hitman for the narco) that didn't get any nomination btw!!

so yeah, take your money and energy elsewhere. maybe go to watch "i'm still here" the only latino (brazilian) movie that is nominated this award season that talks about a mother and activist coping with the forced disappearance of her husband during the military dictatorship in brazil because that's how you should treat such sensitive topics, thanks.

[cookiekissers]

hi!! as a shadow milk cookie simp, can i request a oneshot (or dating headcanons can work!) of shadow milk cookie x male reader

have a great evening/morning/night/afternoon

drink water and sleep well!

[Shadow Milk Cookie x Male Reader]

[head canons] [fluff]

Dating Shadow Milk can range from fun and games to him sleeping on the couch for pushing your buttons a little too much.

He'll always whine about you not forgiving him right away, and will attempt to help you get over your anger by telling jokes and acting silly.

And... it always works. You love him and can't resist his antics for very long.

He's a cuddle bug. Loves cuddling you and holding you whenever he gets the chance.

Shadow Milk loves when you help with his performances and acts as his assistant.

Even though you are dating, Shadow Milk will still try to dazzle and impress you every chance he gets.

Will steal your snacks before you can eat them, but he'll always replace them before you can notice.

Is constantly coming up with, and calling you sweet nicknames. They can range from cute things he loves about you, to silly and weird, to incredibly embarrassing.

"Oh, my heart's desire~ Where are yoooouu~?"

Its both endearing but also embarrassing because Shadow Milk does not let up with the nicknames even when in public.

Loves dancing with you in the kitchen during the night when you're both still awake and making snacks at midnight.

He's a yapper, and genuinely enjoys having someone who listens to him weave stories.

When Shadow Milk confessed to you, you were originally hesitant to believe that his feelings were true, due to him being the Beast of Deceit and all. He is still a liar. But... it is really a lie if it becomes true in the end?

I feel like Shadow Milk would only confess romantic feelings for you because he wants to con something out of you or use you in some way. Or at least that's how it was in the beginning, and he accidentally falls head over heels for you throughout the process of his long-con.

He would try to push down these feelings and pretend they aren't there. He's only using you to get what he wants! But... he knows he's lying to himself.

And the Master of Deceit, who is so used to manipulating Cookies and getting into their heads now finds himself unable to get YOU out of his head.

It annoys him to no end. And for a little while he'll try to fight it, his "affectionate" act towards you will become over the top. It will be sickly sweet and tinged in bitterness. Because a part of him believes that your feelings towards him are also a lie.

Of course you don't trust him, why would you? So your feelings and this whole relationship must be a sham. It's hollow and empty.

Shadow Milk will use his shapeshifting abilities to "test" you. Transforming into a "concerned citizen", he will ask you about your relationship with himself.

And... well he gets his answer. You don't know if Shadow Milk really loves you. But you do love him, and deep down, you believe that he loves you too.

[honeyjynxxed]

It hurts to not be trusted, to feel the need to hide an intrinsic part of yourself from everyone even in your own home but...well... It technically isn't anything new to Danny. He's been hiding his powers from everyone except his closest friends since he was fourteen and he doesn't know why four years later he expected anything to be any different.

Attending Gotham University was fine, his tuition being almost entirely covered by the Wayne STEM scholarship. Meeting Tim had been nice even if he was a little weird at times and was probably going to become a ghost way too quickly from all the caffeine he consumed but hey who was Danny to judge? So when the dorms had flooded and Tim offered to let Danny crash at his place until things were settled again he hadn't really thought too hard about accepting. It took two weeks for him to start regretting that decision. He'd thought that when Tim offered he meant his apartment but no he'd meant Wayne Manor...with the entire rest of his family popping in and out on a regular basis. Apparently it was closer to campus, Alfred's cooking was better than quick breakfast every morning, etc etc. All excuses that Danny had taken at face value because he wanted to trust Tim, he wanted to believe that his friend was being genuine in his offers and his words.

Of course things could never be that simple. At first it was small things, lingering gazes, the hushed conversations, whispers that stopped as soon as he entered a room. Which fine, he was essentially a stranger entering a family home, there was going to be things they couldn't say in front of him. He could understand that but then... it just kept getting bigger. A near oppressive silence that followed him around the house, his personal items turning up missing only to be found left out in common areas he wouldn't have left them, questions about his family and friends and life before Gotham. Even Tim didn't hang around him in a casual manner anymore and it just....all of it just hurt. The only two people who seemed to still treat him with any sense of normality was the butler and Tim's older brother Jason but seeing as Jason avoided the manner like the plaque meant he was left with Alfred. So when he couldn't find an excuse to be out of the manor he was with the older man helping wherever he was allowed to.

"I just...I like Tim or I guess I liked hanging out with him and being friends with him. I just wanna go back to that time, before everyone started acting like I'm gonna....gonna.... I don't know murder someone in their sleep!" That's where he was now in fact, helping Alfred with the laundry and lowkey ranting to him about what everyone was doing. "I mean I can't be the only one in this house with secrets, I know Tim isn't entirely honest with me about what he does that has him sneaking into this manor super early in the morning and i know he lies about his injuries and where they come from but do you see me question him? No! Cause I trust my friend." Danny huffed as he folded another pair of sweatpants. "And I thought he trusted me...Well at least the dorms will be fixed soon and I can get out of his hair. I'm sorry to dump all this on you Alfred, I know how close you are to them."

The butler simply hummed, set down the perfectly folded dress shirt that Danny honestly didn't know how he had gotten that giant stain out of, before turning his entire body to address him straight on. "Would you like me to say something, Master Danny?"

Danny fought back a cringe at the title as he always did. "Ah no you don't need to do that Alfred and I already said you don't gotta call me that either. I'm not here permanently after all." He scratched at the back of his neck absentmindedly as he spoke, not liking the full force of Alfred's attention. "Anyway, how have you been? I didn't get back in time for dinner last night but I know you tried out that new recipe you were talking about. Did it turn out alright?"

And that was that. Danny felt bad about ranting later and made up for it best he could by helping out extra around the manor but Alfred didn't bring it up again so he thought he was fine, safe even. He pushed the conversation from his mind, forgetting about it so effectively that he almost didn't even notice when the others began to act...different. Not worse, definitely not worse, but definitely different. Still, he kept with his usual tactics of staying out of the house as often as possible and when he was there, disappearing to do chores quickly. This routine continued for perhaps another week after his conversation with Alfred until his was, for all intents and purposes, ambushed by none other than Damian after getting back to the manor from his classes for the day. "Follow me...Danny." The boy had muttered before swiftly turning and his heels and walking away. Danny was shocked for a moment, faltering before hurrying to follow. Damian never called him Danny, usually Fenton or Daniel if he had to use his first name, never Danny.

Follow Damian led him to a living room with- Oh no. Here it was. They were going to confront him about being a Halfa and hand him over to the GIW. Danny froze in the entryway, eyes hopping from Dick to Bruce to Damian and finally settling on Tim. That probably hurt the most, seeing Tim sitting there and realizing that his only friend hadn't been a friend at all. This must've shown on his face because not even a minute after setting his gaze on Tim was the boy jumping up from the couch and making his way toward Danny, stopping when he flinched back and took a step away from the entry. "Wait Danny! This isn't... We aren't going to hurt you."

A hand on his shoulder stopped him from stepping any further back and he looked up to see Alfred standing behind him. "Please, allow them to explain, Danny." And later he wouldn't be able to explain why he listened, only that deep down in the depths of his very core he knew that Alfred wouldn't let them hurt him. So he did, he entered the room and sat down.

Tim, as the only was standing, was the first to speak. "I'm sorry. We- I haven't acted like a good friend to you. I brought you here under false pretenses, I questioned you, I took your stuff, I-..." He seemed to cut himself off, his fists clenching at his sides. "What I did was wrong and you have every right to want nothing to do with me. I violated your trust, I didn't respect you or your belongings and I'm sorry. If you have secrets they are yours, to share or not share whenever you're ready."

And on it continued. Damian spoke, Dick spoke, Bruce spoke. They all apologized one after another. They said the only reason why Jason wasn't there was that he hadn't participated in any of it. That the first conversation he'd had with Danny had been enough and he didn't see a reason for their suspicions. "Jason said if you don't want to be here anymore you can stay with him. I would understand if you want that Danny. I'm so sorry for how I acted." Tim was the one who took lead, it seems after being the first to speak the others were fine with letting him continue to do so.

All in all, Danny didn't know how to feel. "I trusted you." It was the first time he'd spoken to Tim in weeks now. "You were my first and only friend since moving to Gotham and I thought that was genuine. Then I come here and you and your family treat me like some....some dangerous criminal! I just..." Danny wasn't ashamed to hear tears in his voice and he could barely get out all he wanted to say. "I think I'm going to take Jason up on that offer. Maybe if I'm out of your home you won't feel inclined to search for possible skeletons in my closet."

It hurt to say and the crumpled expression on Tim's face hurt even more but Danny just wasn't ready to forgive him yet. Sure Danny had been betrayed before but this hurt on a level that he couldn't articulate. Still, when no one said anything after that he left the living room and headed up to his room to pack. If he heard Tim actually start to cry then he ignored it, just like all the times he's sure the boy ignored him crying himself to sleep.

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

I tried to write fluff I swear officer, I don't know how that angst got there! I might tie this into the other WIP I wrote for Tim x Danny but I know if I do it will lead to me lowkey abandoning the Tomarry work I'm writing on Ao3.

Who knows though, I might just end up writing for both at the same time lol

Dp x dc fluff prompt

Danny, for whatever reason, is stuck with the batfam, and they're getting suspicious of him. But before there's any big reveal, before Danny feels pressured to act, Alfred steps in.

Alfred puts his foot down. He tells the bats that the boy is here to be safe, to be loved, and to be protected. Snooping on this would be a huge invasion of privacy, and other than just having powers, Danny hasn't done anything to warrant questioning. "He will come to you when he's ready"

Just a fun story of them doing their best to have Danny be comfortable, and slowly, Danny just casually starts using his powers. No one questions it. No one bothers with it. Danny has powers, so what?

Sure, they get curious sometimes, but Alfred said no snooping.

You can have the official reveal go however you want.

This prompt is very basic, but i just wanted a sweet and simple one.

[achromatophoric]

Enid: Wednesday Friday Addams! Why is Yoko in the infirmary with a freaking dozen broken bones?!

Wednesday: Hmn. Impressive.

Enid: Excuse me?

Wednesday: Tanaka is sturdier than expected. I was certain that she had shattered at least 60% of her skeleton.

Enid: 😧

Enid: *covers her face and screams*

Wednesday: *nonplussed*

Enid: *drops her hands and takes a deep breath*

Enid: Wednesday. Give me one reason—one GOOD reason—why I shouldn’t tear you a new one.

Wednesday: Perhaps I desire for you to tear—

Enid: WEDNESDAY!

Enid: ☝️😡

Wednesday: Ahem. The reason is… I was beating someone with a bat.

Enid: *incredulous glare* So how did Yoko get hurt? Did she somehow trip and fall into the path of said bat?

Wednesday: No, she was said bat.

Enid: 😦

Enid: Yoko was the bat.

Wednesday: *nods*

Enid: 😐

Enid: 😤

Enid: Moon grant me patience—

Enid: Why, Wednesday? Just. WHY?

Wednesday: Do you recall a particularly offensive idiot known as Big Andy?

Enid: 🤔

Enid: The douche normie who thinks he can “convert” lesbians? Self-proclaimed “biggest buck in Jericho” and raging transphobe? That Big Andy?

Wednesday: The same. You see, the fool thought to lay a hand on Divina.

Enid: What? Ooh, that jerk! But that still doesn’t explain why.

Wednesday: As it turns out, Big Andy isn’t only transphobic. He also suffers from a debilitating case of chiroptophobia.

Enid: *blinks* Chiropto… bats? He’s terrified of bats?

Wednesday: Beyond terrified. He voided his bowels before I even managed to break his nose. It was quite magnificent.

Enid: 🫢

Enid: Wait. Nope. That doesn’t mean it was okay to use Yoko like it.

Wednesday: *sighs* Fine. It was her idea.

Enid: What?

Wednesday: Loath as I am to admit it, Tanaka was the one to devise such an inspired act of brutality. I was merely a willing participant.

Enid:

Enid: Do you honestly expect me to believe that?

*ding*

Wednesday: You may want to check that.

Enid: 🤨

Enid: *checks her phone*

Enid:

Enid: She posted it to TikTok.

Wednesday: She had Thing film the incident.

Enid: It’s trending. #BadBitchBeatsBigotWithBat.

Wednesday: An adequate alliteration.

Enid: 🤦

Enid: My best friend is an idiot.

Wednesday:

Wednesday: So about tearing me a new one…

Enid: Not the time.

Wednesday: *pouts*

[fullsunstrawberry]

[Part 21: THEY SHOULD BE FUCKING]

synopsis: New year's resolution leads to you hitting the gym with your two muscle-head friends. But things get complicated when feelings and emotions are involved.

warnings: swearing, talks of balls, heavy make out session

word count: 1.9k

a/n: had the worst day, hopefuolly this helps ur day be a little better <3

taglist CLOSED (18+)

Getting ready for bed, you put on your favorite oversized shirt and settle under the soft glow of your bedside lamp. Just as you lean back against the pillows, ready to relax, a quiet knock at your door pulls you from your thoughts.

Curious, you slip out of bed and pad across the room, opening the door to find Jeno standing there. He looks hesitant, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, his gaze flickering nervously between you and the floor.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice laced with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? I couldn’t stop worrying about you.”

You blink, momentarily surprised by the sincerity in his tone. He’d already checked on you earlier, but here he was again, just to make sure.

“Jen,” you say with a small, grateful smile, “I swear I’m okay. You made everything better like you always do.”

He seems to relax slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing, but a flicker of doubt remains in his eyes.

“Are you really sure?” he presses, shifting awkwardly on his feet, like he’s caught between wanting to believe you and staying just to make sure.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and warm as you shake your head at his persistence.

“I promise,” you say, stepping to the side and gesturing to let him in. A teasing smile tugs at your lips as you add, “But if you’re still worried… Do you want to stay over? Just in case?”

His head snaps up, his eyes widening slightly as a faint flush colors his cheeks. For a second, he looks like he might mutter out an excuse, but then he meets your gaze, something unspoken passing between you. Slowly, a small, smile curves his lips.

“If you don’t mind,” he murmurs, stepping inside.

You close the door softly behind him, the faint click sounding loud. Almost immediately, the air feels different—warmer. Jeno glances around, the tips of his ears pink, his hands nervously fiddling with his hoodie.

“Where should I—?” he starts, rubbing the back of his neck, his usual confidence faltering as his eyes dart around your room.

Before he could finish his sentence, you find yourself moving without really thinking. Rising up on your toes, you lean in and press a quick, light kiss to his lips. It’s short but the soft warmth of his mouth lingers as you pull back, suddenly hyper-aware of your own boldness.

Jeno freezes, his breath catching in his throat, his wide eyes locked on yours. For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, like his brain is still trying to process what just happened.

“I—uh,” you stammer, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. “Sorry, I don’t know why I—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts quickly, his voice low and steady, though his cheeks are still visibly flushed. His lips tug into the faintest smile, and his gaze softens as he steps closer.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper now, his face so close you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “But… if you’re going to do that, at least give me a chance to kiss you back.”

Before you can respond, his hand gently cups your cheek, and he leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss that’s tender yet slow, as though he’s savoring the moment. 

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, and he lets out a breathy laugh, his usual boyish smile returning. “I, uh… wasn’t expecting that when I came back,” he admits, his voice still soft. “But I’m not complaining.”

You can’t help but laugh, your nerves fading as you take in his shy expression. “It just kind of happened,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the two of just stood there, caught in the quiet, comfortable warmth of each other’s presence. Then Jeno tilts his head toward your room, his smile turning playful. “So… are you offering me the floor or am I upgraded to the couch?”

You shake your head with a smile. “You’ve been upgraded to the bed.” you said leading him down the hall to your bedroom.

“Wow, first a kiss, now this? You’re spoiling me tonight,” Jeno teases, though there’s a softness in his tone that betrays the weight of the moment.

Rolling your eyes and folded your arms. “Don’t let it go to your head. Remember I'm supposed to be really sad right now.”

He chuckles, ruffling his hair sheepishly. “Would cuddling help?.”

You barely take a second to think before blurting out, “Yes.”

Jeno blinks, clearly startled by your quick response. Then, a slow, mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Wow,” he says, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms. “That was fast. Like, not even a second of hesitation. Were you hoping I would ask?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you glare at him, grabbing a pillow from your bed and tossing it at him. “Don’t make it weird, Jeno!”

He laughs, easily catching the pillow and hugging it to his chest. “I think we are long past weird...”

Jeno’s laughter dies down as he studies you, his grin softening into something warmer, more intimate. He moves around the bed to take a step closer, closing the space between you two. The playful tension lingers in the air, but there’s something else now.

“You’re not as sad as I expected for someone who said they were upset,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing. “Is this just an excuse to keep me here?”

You raise an eyebrow, faking irritation, but the blush in your cheeks betrays you. “Excuse me? You’re the one who showed up at my door all worried and adorable.”

“Adorable, huh?” he echoes, tilting his head slightly, his smile widening. “So you think I’m cute.”

You roll your eyes, but the grin tugging at your lips gives you away. “Stop teasing me! You’ve been demoted to the couch.”

He chuckles, his hands sliding into his pockets as he leans casually against your dresser, his posture relaxed but his eyes locked on yours. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice dripping with mock fear. “So, how can I make it up to you?”

You narrow your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at his words. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Impossible to resist, maybe,” he quips, stepping closer until there’s barely any space between you. His tone is light, but his eyes search yours, his playful grin softening into something more vulnerable. “But seriously, if you need me… I’m here.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, all the teasing fades away. You look up at him, your breath hitching slightly as the weight of his words sinks in. He’s so close now, his presence warm and steady, his gaze unwavering.

“Jeno…” you start, but the rest of your sentence is lost as he reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your wrist. The touch is gentle, almost hesitant, but it sends a spark through you, and suddenly, the air feels hot.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand lingers against your skin, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles that make it impossible to think straight.

You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet his gaze. “You’re really not making it easy to stay sad.”

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face, and he steps even closer, his other hand resting lightly on your waist. “Good,” he says softly “Because I don’t want you to be sad.”

Before you can respond, he dips his head, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss. You respond without hesitation, your fingers tangling in his hoodie as you pull him closer, the warmth of his body grounding you in the moment.

When he finally pulls back leaning his head against your neck, his breath warm, he grins, his voice low and playful. “So… do I get to stay now? Or do I need to keep proving myself?”

Your head falls back, a soft, breathy laugh slipping past your lips. Your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie before they trail downward, brushing against the hem. You toy with it for a moment, your touch deliberate, before slowly tugging it upward.

Jeno’s smirk deepens, his dark eyes watching you. Without missing a beat, he grabs the back of his hoodie and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion, leaving him in just a fitted t-shirt that clings to his frame. The soft rustle of fabric and the sharp cut of his grin send a shiver down your spine as he leans in closer, his voice teasing.

"Getting impatient, are we?"

“No more talking,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, but firm.

His smirk deepens. “Oh?”

You don’t give him the chance to say anything else. One hand slides up to the nape of his neck, pulling him back in, and he follows willingly—eagerly. His lips crash against yours, less measured this time, more desperate, more claiming. His hands trace the curve of your waist before gripping, pulling you even closer.

The kiss deepens, the warmth of his hands against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. Jeno moves instinctively, his grip tightening, as if afraid you might slip away. The air between you is thick and heavy.

You barely have time to register the way your heart pounds against your chest. His fingers trace slow, lingering patterns against your back, the touch gentle despite the urgency of his kiss. Your hands move of their own accord, sliding up his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingertips.

When you finally break apart, your breaths come in short, uneven pants. Jeno’s forehead rests against yours, his grip still firm on your waist. His eyes flicker open, dark and unreadable, but the ghost of a smirk lingers on his lips.

“I should probably let you sleep,” he murmurs.

You tilt your head, catching the way his fingers still flex against your hips, unwilling to let go. “Do you want to?”

His silence is telling. Instead of answering, he leans in again, but this time, his lips find your jaw, then just below your ear, where he presses a lingering kiss before murmuring, “Not really.”

A shiver courses through you, and you don’t fight it. Instead, you tip your head slightly, giving him more space, and inviting him to continue.

“Jeno…” His name leaves your lips in a whisper, barely audible, but he hears it—feels it. His hands tighten around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the ground just enough to guide you back toward the bed.

You let yourself fall back against the pillows, watching as he hovers over you, his expression shifting—fondness, adoring, but still teasing. “Still sad?” he asks, his voice soft yet playful, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

He shakes his head, dipping down to steal another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate, as if savoring the moment. “Not when it comes to you.”

And as the night stretches on, filled with whispered words and lingering touches, you realize how stupid you were for trying to get over him before you could even get under him.

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