#I should be allowed to write what i fucking want to write

[gatorbites-imagines]

I’m SO in love with your Dick x Wally x male Thanagarian reader HCs! I’ve read through them multiple times, and they’re stuck in my head 🥰🥰💖💖💖

I wasn’t the one who requested it, but would I be able to ask for more from them, with a mix of SFW and NSFW HCs? 🙏

Dick Grayson x Wally West x Thanagarian male reader

Headcanons

I’ve been stressing about my job situation since I quit my internship, as I still need an income, and all job postings around here I can do start in April. So, like any healthy person, im ignoring these feelings by writing.

You guys dating wouldn’t change too many things, as you guys were already close and spent a lot of time together. You guys become a lot more affectionate, which is new for you but not for Dick and Wally as they had already been dating for a long time.

They plan most of the dates in the beginning, as you are still trying to figure out what would work for your human lovers. Thanagar has different traditions and habits, so humans being so lax and creative is new even after this long.

Dick and Wally are both giddy when you decide to plan a date all on your own. You end up stressing yourself way too much, wanting it to be perfect, that you get help from some of the other titans.

I think your boyfriends would be happy with anything, even just going to your hideout and sitting around eating pizza and watching a movie. But seeing all the effort you put into it makes them happy.

On your guys one year anniversary, you give them rings made out of nth metal, possibly even made from small pieces of your wings, so you are always with them in one way or another.

This makes Wally and Dick both pout as they now think their gifts arent good enough. Of course, you don’t think so, anything they’ll give you is good, but they want to do something as meaningful as you did.

Expect something personal and sweet in the coming days. It doesn’t have to be expensive or anything, but its something that means something to all of you. You just feel flustered about it, but accept the pampering.

They of course don’t go beyond your boundaries, something you return as well, since you love your boyfriends as much as you can and they love you in return.

You don’t have any family on earth, there’s Carter and Shayera, but they aren’t really your family and you guys have different values. Luckily for you, your boyfriends have active families. It takes longer for the bats to welcome you, but at this point you’ve been on earth long enough to be trusted.

When it comes to the bedroom, Wally and Dick are much more comfortable than you are in the beginning. They already know each other inside and out, literally, and the first times you feel almost like an outsider.

They obviously don’t allow you to feel left out, and the first times you guys sleep together is a lot of just learning each other, figuring out what feels good and what you are all comfortable with.

I like to think Wally asks about you wearing your wings at least once when you guys are doing it, and you counter it by saying he should keep the flash suit on then. You hadn’t expected him to do it, but he does. Dick ends up doing it too, wearing the Nightwing suit. And who wouldn’t love that.

It lets you live out a couple of fantasies you’ve always had but never allowed yourself to indulge in, since you didn’t want to disrespect your friends and their relationship.

It’s pretty lethal to not have just one boyfriend with a lot of energy, but two. And one of those boyfriends has little to no rest between rounds. I could imagine Dick jokes about how its good that you came along, so you can switch out who’s fucking Wally so the other can rest.

They both love hickeys and you leaving them on them, since the whole being marked by you gets their blood pumping. They both love leaving them just as much though, so you end up starting to wear a high-collar outfit when you go out as your crime fighting persona.

It can be hard to find time where all three of you can spend personal time together. Theres always something going on in your personal cities, so there is a lot of one on one time. But I can imagine you guys make a habit out of calling whoever isn’t there, and letting them listen through their earpiece, if possible.

It gets kinda awkward for Dick a couple of times where the other bats, mostly Babs, checks in on his comms, only to hear Wallys needy gasping and whimpering and your deeper grunts and groans, as you describe in crude detail what you are doing to your shared boyfriend.

Babs might even be a bit impressed that Dick can keep up with his usual flips and kicks, taking out criminals like usual, and not letting what hes hearing distract him.

When he finally finishes up and gets back to wherever you guys are, Dick would dive right in, even if you and Wally had already washed up and were cuddling.

Luckily Wally is always raring to go, and it’s easy to get you worked up, just watching and listening to them. At the end of the night/early morning everyone is satisfied and happy, even if Wally has to be the one doing all the cleaning and morning cooking.

[hellinistical]

Priest! Vampire! Rafayel x Nun! Reader synopsis: when a charming new priest is sent to your convent amidst the winter freeze, you're naturally untrusting. unfortunately, he's more knowledgeable of the faith, and you could learn a thing or two, especially if you want to protect yourself from the recent vampire attacks. trigger warnings: (heavy plot!). minor and major character death, blood, dubious consent, sacrilegious themes (Not Christianity or Catholicism; made up religion but using synonymous terms), gore, porn with plot, fingering (fem. receiving), hand jobs, piv, non-consensual vampire transformation, bodily horror, drinking blood, playing with blood, human consumption, unwilling cannibalism, afab reader- usage of female anatomy (though not descriptive of size/skin markings). fem. reader- she/her used. biting. choking. manipulation. blasphemy. overstimulation. virgin reader. corruption. monster fucking. slight belly bulge, bondage. incorrect use of holy water. wax play. this list may expand and/or altered. trigger warnings: (for this chapter.) afab. fem reader. implied pregnancy. period sex. piv. wax play. incorrect use of holy water. fingering (fem receiving), biting. overstimulation. corruption. virgin reader. non-con. dubious consent. hate sex. vampire transformation (though not explicit, just implied, and not in standard means; I took creative liberty). blood. slight belly buldge. major character deaths. spit. a:/n:this piece holds no actual religious scripture or quotes, I just needed those terms as they were synonymous. This is in NO WAY a jab at those faiths nor is it meant to spread hate or harm to them. It is also not an insult to those who practice. I tried to write with care, which yeah may be hypocritical of what I have here, so I apologize. Additionally, thank you to everyone who voted in the poll. While it was originally intended to be a one-shot, I felt it would be better to break it into chunks as this is very plot-heavy. Thank you for your support! Reblogs are highly appreciated. word count: 6.1k masterlist | prev.

V. Trasformazione

“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark"

It’s all-consuming, how he seems to swallow the oxygen before you can breathe. Like he’s taking it straight from your lungs, leaving you lightheaded, weak. His hands are everywhere, mapping you, learning you, claiming you in ways you don’t know if you should allow—but you do.

The tree digs into your back, rough and unyielding, but his body is just as unrelenting. His lips drag along your jaw, down your throat, his breath hot against your skin. A shudder wracks through you as his teeth graze your pulse, and he lingers there, as if tasting your heartbeat.

His fingers tighten their grip. "You’re mine," he murmurs against your skin, voice low and raw. It’s not a question. It’s not a request. It’s a vow.

Your stomach hurts, the cramps from your cycle gnawing at you, twisting in sharp, unforgiving waves. Your body burns, the feverish heat meeting his coldness in a clash that sends a shiver up your spine—a mess of sensation, of discomfort, of something deeper you refuse to name.

You turn your head away, not because you want to, but because you can’t bear to look. His breath ghosts over your exposed throat, his grip firm, possessive, unrelenting. You feel his lips press there, lingering, and it only makes the ache inside you worse, different.

A breath shudders from you, and you hate how weak it sounds. His fingers flex against your skin, and you feel the sharp edge of his teeth as he hums in something like satisfaction.

“You’re burning up,” he murmurs against your throat, his tone almost gentle. Almost. “Poor thing.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. You hate him.

His fangs graze your skin but never sink in, lingering like a silent threat—or maybe a promise. His breath is cool against the feverish heat of your neck, sending a shudder through your already trembling body.

Then, his hands are on you, pulling your leg up and around his waist, pressing you closer until there’s no space left between you. The motion is seamless, practiced, like he’s done it a thousand times before. Like he’s meant to hold you like this.

And it’s humiliating.

Your nightgown is thin, ruined, sticky with blood, the fabric barely clinging to your form. You’re exposed—more than you’ve ever been, more than you should be. And yet, the very sight of you like this seems to draw him in more.

His fingers press into the flesh of your thigh, his breath hitching. "Messy little thing," he murmurs, voice rough, reverent. His lips trail the line of your jaw, slow, deliberate. "Do you know what you do to me?"

You don't want to know. You don’t want to feel the way your body reacts, the way the fever in your veins has nothing to do with your cycle anymore.

You press your hands against his chest—whether to push him away or pull him closer, you don’t even know.

His lips press against your collarbone, soft yet insistent, his breath cool against your heated skin. The way he inhales deeply, savoring your scent, makes your stomach twist—not just in fear, but something else, something raw and unfamiliar.

"Wait—wait, Rafayel—I don’t—I don’t get it." Your voice trembles, caught between confusion and something dangerously close to surrender.

He shushes you gently, his hands smoothing over your waist, his touch both possessive and reverent. "You don’t have to," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick with something deeper than want. "You just need to feel it."

You shudder, your fingers twitching against his chest. He’s cold, so unbearably cold, yet his presence is suffocatingly warm. Every nerve in your body is on fire, your pulse hammering, your breaths short and uneven.

You should push him away.

You should run.

But Astra above, you can’t move.

His eyes flicker down to the deep crimson staining your nightgown, pupils blown so wide they nearly swallow the color of his irises. His chest rises and falls sharply, unsteady, his fingers twitching where they grip your waist.

And yet—his expression twists. Something raw flickers across his face, something tangled between hunger and revulsion.

Not at you.

At himself.

He looks away, jaw tightening, his grip faltering for just a second. His breath comes sharp through his nose, as if he’s trying to will himself into control.

A muscle jumps in his jaw. "Damn it," he mutters, voice tight, nearly shaking. His fingers flex against you like he’s about to let go—like he should let go.

But he doesn’t.

You barely have time to react before his grip tightens—hard.

“Jump.”

Your breath catches. “Jump?”

“Jump, damn it.” His voice is sharp, urgent, commanding.

His hands slide down, gripping the backs of your thighs. He hoists you up with inhuman ease, your legs scrambling for balance around his waist. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, your heartbeat hammering against your ribs.

He presses you hard against the tree, the rough bark biting into your back. His face is so close now, too close, his breath mingling with yours, cool and sharp. His hands flex against your legs, his grip possessive, unyielding.

Rafayel's hands are ironclad around your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin, pinning you where he wants you. The pressure is bruising, possessive. He isn’t just holding you; he’s claiming you.

The air is thick, damp with the scent of earth and blood. Your blood. It clings to you, drying into the fabric of your nightgown, and you can feel how his eyes linger on the stains. His pupils are blown wide, black nearly swallowing the eerie glow of his irises. His breath fans against your jaw, cool and sharp, but his body is burning.

"Tree or the grass." His voice is low, firm. Not a question. A command. "Hurry up."

You grip his shoulders, nails biting into the fabric of his robe. The tree behind you is rough, its bark scraping against your spine as you shift in his grasp, trying to steady yourself. But it’s useless. He’s already made the choice

He holds you up with one hand, your legs around his waist as he undoes the zipper of your nightgown, pulling it down swiftly. 

The nightgown pools around your hips, the weight of it dragging against your thighs as Rafayel's cold fingers skim over your ribs. Your breasts free, the cold air on your exposed nipples makes them harden. His touch is reverent, but there’s nothing holy about it. The moonlight barely reaches through the dense canopy above, casting fractured beams of silver across his face. His expression is unreadable—somewhere between hunger and hesitation, worship and possession.

“You look divine like this,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, almost awed. His thumb presses into the dip of your waist as if to test the reality of you. As if he doesn’t believe you’re real.

The night air chills your exposed skin, but you burn beneath it, a fever licking at your spine. Your blood, your scent—it’s making him tremble. You can feel it in the way his grip falters for a moment before he steadies himself, locking you tighter against him.

His grip tightens as the scent thickens, as the warmth of it seeps into the fabric of his trousers. He shudders, a groan tearing from deep within his throat, something raw and starved.

His fingers flex against your hips, betraying his restraint, the barely-contained need that trembles beneath the surface. He exhales sharply, like he's forcing himself to remember something—like he's fighting the very nature that compels him to sink his teeth into the tender flesh of your throat.

"Mine."

The word isn’t spoken, but you feel it in the way his body tenses, in the way his fingers dig just a little too hard into your sides, like he’s trying to brand himself into you. His breath is uneven now, and you realize—with something close to horror, close to exhilaration—that he’s shaking.

His head dips lower, mouth pressing just beneath your ear. “You’re going to ruin me,” he murmurs, almost reverent. His lips are cold, but his voice burns.

Your hands are firm on his chest, trying to push him off, 

“Stop- stop, I’m dirty,”

He doesn’t budge. If anything, your resistance only seems to ignite something deeper in him, something far more desperate.

His hands trace your thighs, smearing warmth into your skin, fingers painting patterns in the mess of crimson and sweat. His grip is firm but reverent, like he's touching something sacred, something he refuses to let slip through his fingers.

"You don't get to be ashamed," he breathes against your jaw, his voice shaking with something dark and unspoken. "Not from me."

You shudder, your fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt. “Rafayel—”

“I don’t care.” His lips brush your temple, your cheek, his breath fanning hot over your ear. His voice lowers, dark and hushed, almost mournful. “I would bathe in you if you'd let me.”

He grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to make eye contact. He looks utterly feral. “I want to be in you. I need it. In your skin. In your very soul.”

His lips crash against yours, not with brutal force, but with a yearning so deep it feels like he’s trying to devour something unseen, something hidden inside you. The kiss is desperate, frantic. It’s not just want—it’s need. A need that claws at him, that shakes his very foundation.

His grip tightens, fingers digging into your flesh with an urgency that borders on bruising. His palm presses into the small of your back, pulling you flush against him—your soft warmth clashing against the hard, unyielding chill of his body. His breath, cool and fanning across your lips, mingles with your own, the contrast dizzying.

His mouth moves against yours with a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation, lips parting just enough for his teeth to graze your lower lip—sharp, teasing, just barely holding back from drawing blood. The press of his fangs sends a shiver down your spine.

Your nightgown slips further  down and bunches up more as he tugs at the fabric, his fingers tracing up the length of your spine, nails dragging lightly, leaving a tingling trail of sensation. His free hand moves down, skimming over your thigh before gripping it, pulling your leg higher against his waist. The rough friction of his clothes against your bare skin sends a jolt of sensation up your body.

He shifts, pressing forward, pinning you against the tree with his body weight. The bark bites into your back, a stark contrast to the way his hands explore your skin, cold and burning all at once.

"I—" A kiss, deep and forceful, swallowing any protest you might have had.

"Hate—" His hands tighten, fingers bruising against your skin, as if trying to mold you into him, make you stay, make you his.

"You—" He bites your lip this time, just enough to sting, and you gasp into his mouth.

And despite everything—the fear, the confusion, the war between sense and something darker—you kiss him back.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, slow and deliberate, tasting the remnants of your breath. His grip tightens around your waist, pressing you flush against him. The rough bark of the tree digs into your back, but you barely register the sting—your senses drown in the feeling of him.

Rafayel’s tongue pushes past your lips, hot and insistent, swirling against yours in a messy, feverish dance. He doesn’t kiss with precision—he kisses with hunger, his movements uncoordinated yet consuming, like a man starved.

Saliva slicks your lips, the wet sounds of your mouths moving together filling the night air. He groans into the kiss, a deep, guttural noise vibrating against your tongue as he sucks at it, pulling you deeper into him. His teeth graze against your lower lip, nipping and tugging before soothing the sting with another deep, open-mouthed kiss.

Your breaths are ragged, mingling with his as he swallows every gasp, every whimper. His fingers dig into your hips, keeping you locked against him, refusing to let you pull away. His tongue moves greedily, exploring, claiming, savoring every inch of your mouth. The kiss is hot, messy, intoxicating—his spit coats your lips, mixing with your own, leaving you breathless and lightheaded.

When he finally pulls back, a thin string of saliva connects your mouths, breaking only when he licks his lips, his eyes dark and hooded with desire.

“Gods-” His palm is firm, pressing against your lips as his eyes darken. "Don’t," he repeats, voice low, almost dangerous. His fingers linger against your cheek, the coolness of his skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your own.

His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you—he is in control. His breath is heavy, ragged, his pupils blown wide as he watches you, drinking in every detail of your flushed face.

For a moment, there’s only silence, the weight of his hand against your mouth the only thing grounding you. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leans in, his lips just ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Do not speak of them here."

The weight of his body against yours is suffocating, his grip unrelenting. His thumb brushes over your cheek, deceptively gentle, a stark contrast to the feral hunger in his gaze. "You’re mine now," he breathes, his lips hovering just above your skin. "No gods. No saints. Just me."

His teeth graze your jaw, sharp but restrained, a warning and a promise all at once. His grip tightens at your waist, pressing you further into the rough bark of the tree, as if he could mold you into the very world around him—an extension of his own being.

"You feel that?" he murmurs against your skin, his breath cool but his presence searing. "That’s the only thing that’s real now. Me. Us."

His fingers trace along the dip of your spine, slow, deliberate, memorizing every shudder, every unwilling response he draws from you. He’s reveling in it, in the way your body betrays you, in the way your heartbeat hammers against his own.

"Say it," he demands, his lips brushing just below your ear. His voice is steady, but there’s something almost desperate beneath it. "Tell me you understand."

His mouth finds the pulse at your throat, lingering there, savoring, but never quite sinking in. His hands roam, gripping, kneading, learning the shape of you as if carving it into memory.

You try to focus—on his words, on his demand—but it’s impossible when his teeth drag along your skin, when his hands press you tighter against him, when every touch pulls you deeper into something dark and inescapable.

"Rafayel—" you manage, but it’s breathless, barely a whisper.

He chuckles against your skin, the sound low, wicked. "You can’t even think, can you?" His fingers slide up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back so you're forced to meet his eyes. They gleam with something unhinged, something hungry. "Good."

He lays you down before you realize. 

The earth is rough beneath you, twigs and dead leaves pressing into your skin, but it barely registers over the sensation of him. His lips ghost over your sternum, his breath warm despite the unnatural chill of his body.

His hands slide down your sides, slow, deliberate, as if savoring every inch of you. The contrast between his cold fingers and the feverish heat of your skin makes you shiver.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice thick with something unreadable. Reverence? Possession? It’s all the same with him. "You belong to me."

He presses a lingering kiss to your ribs, just above where your heartbeat pounds wildly against your bones. He exhales, and his lips curve against your skin in something dangerously close to a smile.

But you remember you’re technically free bleeding, and your pulse spikes, a rush of panic coursing through your veins as you instinctively try to close your legs. But his hand is there, swift and firm, stopping you. His grip is too strong, his presence too consuming.

He doesn't let go, his fingers brushing over the inner parts of your thighs, his breath shallow and erratic as he drinks in the sight of you. His pupils are blown wide, almost black, utterly lost in something feral and primal. He’s staring at you like he’s found something sacred, something far darker and deeper than just physicality.

"Don’t hide it," he murmurs, his voice raw and low. His gaze flickers down to the blood, and there's something almost reverent in his eyes. "This—this is perfect."

He throws your leg over his shoulder, and your face burns. 

Your breath catches as his lips linger against your calf, the warmth of his mouth searing against your skin. Your face burns, a flush creeping down your neck, spreading like wildfire. His touch is reverent—too intimate, too consuming.

He watches you through lidded eyes, something unreadable flickering behind them. "Look at you," he murmurs, dragging his lips higher. "Divine."

The forest around you is silent, as if holding its breath, as if bearing witness. Your pulse pounds in your ears, the rhythm syncing with his own quiet, shuddering breaths. You don’t know what’s more terrifying—the way he touches you like you’re something sacred or the way you’re starting to believe it.

Divine.

He did not want you to utter a word of the gods, and yet here he was, revering you as though you were made of stardust and prayer. His lips traced blessings into your skin, his hands mapping out every fragile piece of you with something dangerously close to devotion.

Your breath shuddered, caught between fear and something deeper, something you couldn’t name. He worshipped you in contradiction—loathing, needing, aching.

His voice was a rasp against your skin. "You don’t even see it, do you?" His fingers ghosted over your thigh, his grip tightening as though you might disappear. "You are holy in a way the heavens could never understand."

He pulls the nightgown off you completely, throwing it aside. The ruined nightgown lands in a crumpled heap, forgotten the moment it leaves his hands.

His gaze devours you, tracing every inch of exposed skin like a man starved, like something sacred has been laid bare before him. His fingers, cool against the heat of your body, press into your waist, lingering, memorizing.

"You were never meant for them," he murmurs, almost to himself. His touch drags up, slow, reverent, mapping out the curve of your ribs, the plane of your stomach. "Never meant for their rules. Their prayers."

His lips follow the path his hands have taken, pressing against you like whispered blasphemy.

His devotion was feverish, a worship not of saints or gods, but of you.

Your body was his temple, and he knelt before it without shame, lips pressing against every inch of exposed skin as though engraving his reverence into you. His hands roamed—possessive, greedy, desperate—as if afraid you might vanish between his fingers like mist at dawn.

“You were made for me,” he murmured against your hip, his voice rough with something deeper than hunger. His teeth grazed your skin, a silent vow. “No holy book, no doctrine—only this. Only us.”

The forest bore witness to the sacrilege, the rustling leaves whispering secrets to the wind. But he did not care. And, Astra help you, neither did you.

“Rafayel, that blood-” “It’s precious. Don’t you dare say otherwise.”

His words came like a command, hard and unyielding. His fingers gripped your wrists, holding you still as if your very body was his to claim, to savor. There was something in his eyes—intensity, obsession, an almost maddening hunger as he traced the lines of your skin.

The blood, your blood, had already stained him, and yet it seemed to hold him captive. It wasn’t just an act of possession—it was reverence, as though your very essence was sacred, and he couldn’t bear to waste a drop of it.

"Every part of you," he whispered, eyes now fixed on the path of blood trickling along your skin, "is mine." His voice was raw, desperate. "And I’ll cherish every bit of it, even if the gods themselves would frown upon us."

His lips hovered just above the blood, as if he was waiting for permission, the tension between you both palpable, thickening the air.

His lips hovered, teasing, just barely brushing against your skin as he waited, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Without thinking, you pulled him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair, pressing his mouth to your blood-streaked skin.

It was an act of surrender. You were no longer the person who feared him, who resisted his touch. Now, you were simply a part of the chaos between you, caught in the storm of his desire and your own.

His breath hitched as his mouth met your skin, his hands roaming to claim you further. Every inch of him was pressed against you, his body marking you as his, as he whispered your name—like a prayer, like an obsession, like a promise.

If he was going to damn you, it may as well be worth it. 

His tongue laped at the blood on your thighs, his grip bruising on your hips as he cleans you up. Nipping and kissing up, up, up, his breath fans over your cunt, abd you can’t help but shiver. 

“And Astra said do not be wasteful, so thank you for this meal.”

His lips were on you, drinking your blood. "I could spend an eternity feasting on you,”

His words sent a thrill of excitement through you as he continued to lavish attention to your sensitive flesh, a cold hand coming to press down on your stomach, cool to the touch. Rafayels tongue traced patterns along your folds, your breath hitching as waves of pleasure rippled through your body, conflicting with the apprehension that still lingered in your mind. You let go of his hair, grasping at the dirt, clawing at whatever could ground you, fighting to maintain control over your desires. But with each flick of Rafayels tongue, each gentle suckle, your resolve waned, your resistance crumbling like sand beneath a relentless tide. 

Despite yourself, you arched your back, offering yourself more fully to his ministrations, your moans mingling with the soft sounds of his fervent attentions. Lips parting to taste the blood that came from your core, he teased and taunted with each languid stroke. 

Rafayel savored you like a forbidden fruit, movements deliberate and precise as he explored every inch of your trembling form. Eliciting gasps and moans from your lips, he threatened to consume you. 

His hands, strong and commanding, roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and thighs as he held you in place, ensuring you remained at his mercy. 

"Please," you begged, your voice a breathless whisper. "I can't... I can't take anymore..."

Of course, the faux priest ignored you. 

His lips were bloody- so bloody, smearing across his chin and mingling with the spit that connected him to your cunt. 

“You- you’re beautiful.”

He licks it away, groaning at the taste as he reluctantly pulls himself away, sitting up, keeping your legs apart as he undoes his buttoned shirt, pulling it over his head and-

As if your cheeks couldnt burn any more. 

It was as if Astra had carved him himself, and he probably did. 

No clay was made to make his form, no. 

He was made from fire and starlight.

Two fingers replaced his mouth, inching their way. Your eyes threaten to roll at the intensity of it all, and the feeling of shame was ever present in its advancements. 

Rafayel made his way up your body, lips trailing along the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake as he moved towards your breasts. Capturing one of your nipples between his lips, he sucked and nipped at the sensitive flesh, his fangs nearly breaking the skin. 

“Divine.”

It was said like a mantra, a prayer on your skin, an obsession with the salvation he so desperately craved. His free hand grabbed one of your own, interlocking your fingers and holding it about your head. Worshipping your breasts with a sense of reverence, he nearly whined. 

"I could spend an eternity feasting on you,”

The words send a thrill of excitement through you.

But the ins and outs of his fingers, his mouth on your tits, and the utter act of it all-

You don’t know whether to cry or beg. 

Beg for it to be done?

It’s too much- and he knows this. Of course he does. 

Father Rafayel always knows. 

He lets your nipple go with a lewd pop, taking his fingers out of you before grabbing your face. If you weren't so overwhelmed, you might have gagged. 

Until he spits in your mouth and pushes your head back down. 

“Stay down.”

His hands go to his pants, and you watch. Watch him take himself out. 

Astra above. 

He was pretty just about everywhere. Endowed, leaking, his skin tinged the faintest of blues up until his tip, an aggressive deep red-almost purple. 

And there's so much cum. 

He lines himself up with your quivering hole, breathing hard as if he needed the oxygen. Maybe he did now. “I- hah- I’m taking you. You understand, don’t you? I need this.”

But your gaze is too focused on his member, too distracted. 

“He’d probably marry a book,”

Oh, Yvonne, you sweet ignorant soul. 

Your blood smears across his tip, and he hisses. “So hot- too hot,”

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe ou-

You cry out, the push too uncomfortable, too harsh, too mean. And finally- finally- closes his eyes, long lashes giving his cheeks butterfly kisses as he damn near growls. 

He leans over you, his forehead meeting yours as he presses his lips to yours, whether just for the sake of kissing or to not look foolish, you don’t know. Don’t have time to think as he goes to your throat. 

He bites. 

Not enough to break skin, but it hurts. 

Hurts more when you gaze at his hands, how they are fisted in the damp soil beneath you, nails caked with blood and dirt, holding himself back. 

He moves his hips, pushing in, and your arms scramble around his bare back, nails gifting crescents into his skin. A bulge in your tummy- he presses down on it. 

“Here. Here is where I’ll be. Where we will be. Do you understand?”

“What?”

“Miseal. It’s already decided.”

His thrusts are deep- rough, and something feels off as he takes you. Though you’re not sure what.

Almost as if you’re being watched. 

And he feels it too.

“Damn him,”

A rush, a rush as he tries to make you both finish, no longer worried about the pleasure of it all, so long as it was done. You whine, legs wrapping around him, keeping him in as he rocks into you. 

Soon enough, he spills. 

But it's strange, how he pulls away fast, grabbing his pants.

You watch as he pulls out a candle, a muted red wax of a long shaft and a packet of matches. 

“You move, and you’re getting burned. Do you understand?”

What?

He lights it. 

Panicking, you try to get up- 

His hand is on your throat, keeping you down. “Stay. Still.”

He holds it over your body, letting the wax melt and then-

When it drops onto your skin, it burns.

You bite back a yelp, throwing your head back and gritting your teeth. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

His gaze is hard as he lets it fall onto your body, watching it roll down the curves and valleys and dips of your body. Tears pool in your eyes, and all sense of warmth he had in his gaze is gone. Why was he so hard to understand?

He brings a hand to your stomach, smearing the wax before it solidified. 

It hits you. 

He was drawing something on you. Swirls of roses and vines, stars and something else you can't quite see. 

“Rafayel, what’s wrong-” “Quiet.”

His tone is sharp, cold. And then- 

Holy water?

He splashes it onto you. 

“Rafayel, wha-”

“Stop- Just stop it! Let me finish what I need to do!”

Rafayel’s breath came fast and uneven, his hands shaking even as they held you firm. His panic bled into you like ink in water, spreading thick and inescapable.

No—no, no, no. This was wrong.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out everything else. 

He jerked back as if burned, his expression twisting. Regret? Shame? Desire? It all mixed together, unreadable.

"Astra," you whispered, your throat tightening. "Astra is going to punish us."

Rafayel's face darkened, his pupils blown wide, his grip on you tightening like a noose.

Then, before you could utter another breath, he shoved his hand over your mouth, pressing you into the earth.

"Shut. Up." His voice was a raw, desperate growl. His body caged you in, his hand firm against your lips, his eyes blazing with something almost wild.

The wind only grew stronger. The trees groaned. The stars above flickered—then vanished.

Astra was watching.

Your chest heaved, but no air came. His hand was firm, unyielding, stealing the breath from your lungs as the wind raged around you. Your fingers clawed at his wrist, nails digging into his skin, but he wouldn’t budge.

Your vision blurred at the edges, a ringing building in your ears. Above you, the sky churned—inky black swallowing every trace of light, the heavens convulsing in silent fury.

Rafayel’s eyes bore into yours, his grip trembling. His own breath was ragged, his expression torn between panic and something darker.

Then, just as your limbs began to weaken, he let go.

You gasped, choking on the rush of air, your lungs burning. The moment your breath returned, you shoved him away, scrambling backward across the damp forest floor.

"What have you done?" Your voice was raw, torn.

Rafayel didn’t answer. His lips parted, but his eyes weren’t on you anymore. They were locked onto the abyss above, where the sky had fractured.

A sob clawed up your throat, raw and broken. You could feel it—like something had been ripped from you, something sacred and irreplaceable.

Your soul.

The weight of it hit you all at once. A terrible, hollow emptiness where divinity had once dwelled. The connection to Astra, the light you had clung to in your darkest moments—it was gone. Torn away by his hands.

You curled in on yourself, fingers digging into the damp earth as if you could anchor yourself, as if the ground would not reject you like the heavens had. You had been forsaken.

A gust of wind howled through the trees, the sky above still shuddering, the heavens themselves mourning you.

And he—he only stood there. Watching.

"You’ve ruined me," you whispered, voice shaking, eyes wet with grief.

Rafayel flinched as if struck. But he didn’t deny it. Didn’t apologize. He only took a step closer, the shadows curling around him like a crown, his expression unreadable.

"You were never theirs to begin with." His voice was low, reverent, filled with something close to adoration.

You hated him. You hated that you wanted to believe him.

A breeze flows through your hair, comfortable on your scalp. 

A field of golden wheat. The stalks sway, whispering secrets in the wind. The sky is endless, a soft, hazy blue, and the sun is warm on your skin.

And then you see it.

Her.

Your body—mangled, broken, wrong. Blood seeps into the dirt beneath, soaking the golden earth in deep crimson. Your eyes are open, clouded and lifeless, staring at nothing. The wind does not touch you. The sun does not warm you.

You are dead.

But you are also here, standing above yourself, barefoot in the soft earth, small hands trembling at your sides. You are a child again.

A shadow looms over your corpse. You look up.

Astra?

No.

A hand grabs yours. You turn, blinking in confusion. There, standing beside you, is a younger version of Rafayel, his eyes wide, full of an unspoken fear. The wheat sways gently around him, but the warmth of the sun, which once bathed you, now feels distant, cold, almost unreal.

“Are you scared?” you ask softly, your voice trembling, not sure if the words are meant for him or for you.

He doesn’t answer at first, his gaze fixed on the mangled body lying in the dirt, still and lifeless. Slowly, he nods. His expression is tense, strained, haunted. The faint trace of a tear glimmers in his eye, but he refuses to look away from the vision of death that lies before you.

Another figure steps forward, his presence almost ethereal amidst the vast expanse of the golden wheat.

He is a man—older, perhaps, though not by much—and yet, his features carry an odd resemblance to both you and Rafayel, as if the strands of your lives had intertwined in ways too complex to decipher. His face is solemn, filled with a quiet sadness that mirrors your own unease. He crouches by the mangled body, planting roses in the earth, the delicate flowers contrasting sharply with the harshness of death surrounding them.

When he finishes, his eyes slowly rise to meet yours, the sorrow in them palpable. "I can't wait to meet you," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a melancholy that feels out of place in this strange vision. There's a heaviness in his words, as though he’s already resigned to an inevitable fate that neither you nor he can escape.

You stand still, caught in the moment, unsure of what to make of him or what he means by his cryptic words. His gaze lingers for a moment longer before he turns away, his figure slowly dissolving into the wheat as if he were never there to begin with. 

The familiar sound of Gran's laughter fills the air, cutting through the tension of the dream and pulling you back to reality. You blink, suddenly disoriented as you stand in your kitchen, the smell of burnt soup wafting in the air. Tara, your younger cousin, stands at the stove, a guilty grin plastered across her face.

You roll your eyes and call out, annoyed, “Tara, did you burn the soup again?”

Gran chuckles from her rocking chair in the corner of the room, clearly entertained by the chaotic dynamic. She has seen this a thousand times before, but her amusement is unwavering. "Let her be, love. She’s learning."

Tara, red-faced and clearly embarrassed, scoops a ladle of the charred soup into a bowl, trying to salvage what she can. "It wasn’t that bad," she protests weakly, though the scorched smell says otherwise.

You sigh, but the irritation fades quickly as you watch Tara and Gran in the soft light of the kitchen. It’s a comforting scene, one you’ve known all your life. Still, that dream lingers at the back of your mind, its strange figure and cryptic words echoing through your thoughts, mixing with the mundane and ordinary.

"Gran, I had the strangest dream last night," you start, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling. She pauses, her hands stilling on her knitting as her sharp eyes meet yours.

“Did you now?” “I…yeah. I dreamed I was trying to be a nun…and there was a vampire.” Gran raises an eyebrow, her lips curling into a knowing smile. "A vampire, eh? Sounds like Astra's handiwork, that does."

You roll your eyes, but before you can speak, you hear a soft chuckle from the doorway. The voice is familiar, comforting, yet too smooth—too perfect. "Nightmares again, cutie?"

You freeze, instinctively glancing over your shoulder. There, standing in the doorway, is him. The man who doesn't quite fit, but is always somehow there, a shadow in the corner of your life. He wears the same smile as always—charming, relaxed, but with an undertone you can't quite place. His eyes gleam, mischievous with amusement. 

Gran raises a knowing eyebrow. “Rafayel, you causing my grandbaby nightmares again? You ought to be more gentle with her.”

“I can’t help it, Josephine. Gotta get it out of my system before the wedding.”

Gran snorts. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “So what, you just had to torment me one last time before I walk down the aisle?”

Rafayel grins, lazy and wolfish. “Of course. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t haunt my bride’s dreams before the big day?” His voice is teasing,

Gran swats him lightly with a dish towel. “Enough of that nonsense. Go set the table if you’re gonna stand there running your mouth.”

Rafayel winks at you before grabbing the plates.

©hellinistical 2025 do not copy, translate, distribute, plagiarize, or reproduce in any form without permission, and do not share to any media outside of tumblr.

[uceyliyahh]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

summary: Miyori and Jey were in a relationship for three years until she saw him laid up with another girl that wasn’t her and it broke her heart so she decided block him on everything and focus on her career until she gets a text message from him.

This fanfic is 18+! NO MINORS ALLOWED

word count: 4364

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

Jey Uso x Miyori

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

again mdni you have been warned.

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️@pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @li-da-savage @ctinadiva @clubsoft

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @lilucey @usoinked @christinabae

@celesteheartsjey @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @justazzi @xbriexx @luvrsluxe @celesteheartsjey @4milly @luuvprincess @yyaktayak @yana3sworld

𝖈𝖚𝖆𝖙𝖗𝖔

uceyjucey, jazzyV, jonathanfatu, theshaderoom, and others liked your post.

miyorisworld: When He Sends U Money To Pay For Yo' Hair Appointment 😩🙂‍↕️ uceyjucey: anything for you baby girl 💗 miyorisworld: @ uceyjucey keep working on papa 💋 jonathanfatu: she ain't playing around this time uce @ uceyjucey

jazzyV: MAKE HIS POCKETS HURT DAMN RIGHT BESTIE

jeyusofannnn: she's using him for money that's sad

miyorisworld: @ jeyusofannnn honey I make my own money so you can move tf around with that

jaidaparker_wwe: @ uceyjucey what the fuck? How come you can send her money for her appointments but not me? 🤨 theshaderoom: 👀👀 aaron_pierre1: oh nah

Read all comments.

OMNISCIENT Miyori was at her desk, reviewing her client files as usual, diligently jotting down notes on her iPad to ensure she was ready for her next appointment. In the midst of her work, she received a text from Jimmy and paused briefly to check what he needed.

Big Jim🫡 sent a message

Big Jim🫡: Mimi PLEASEE come get Jey he's losing his mind like deadass crashing out over here

She couldn't help but laugh at the message he had sent. Ever since Jey took her out on that special date and everything that unfolded between them that night, he seemed to be struggling with feelings of longing since he left.

She had him captivated once more, sharing intimate photos and videos while they were apart, and it was consuming him with longing.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: I'm not surprised I knew he was going to go crazy😭😭 Big Jim🫡: do you know I hear him moan your name whenever he's beating his meat like damn Mimi what'chu do to him?

Mimi💓: I didn't do anything 🤷🏽‍♀️ just sent him pictures and videos to keep him company knowing how busy yall is I told you he has to work for it and deal with consequences Jim

Big Jim🫡: I understand 100 percent but please can you at least calm him down or something he's like rapid dog right now

Mimi💓: when are you guys off? Or have a day off?

Big Jim🫡: this upcoming weekend after Friday Night Smackdown you got something planned?

Mimi💓: something like that 😁 Big Jim🫡: you planning on coming to see him if im correct?

Mimi💓: yes I am actually, I know papa needs his mama badly but I should make him wait don't you think?

Big Jim🫡: shiii if I tell him that he's going to be pissed off even more

Mimi💓: go on ahead and tell em

Big Jim🫡: you is evil Mimi but aight

Mimi💓: kk tell Trin I said heyy

Big Jim🫡: will do ma'am

After she sent a message to Jimmy, she quickly received a text from Jey that made her laugh even harder at the predicament he was in, fully aware of how much he relied on her support.

Joshua🖤 sent a message

Joshua🖤: mamas I miss you so fucking bad

Miyori cherished this aspect of him, where he was vulnerable and pleading for her affection, just as she desired. It allowed her to take charge, showcasing her strength and authority, making it clear that she was the treasure he sought, one he needed to work hard to deserve.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: I miss you too big papa

Joshua🖤: you keep playing games with me Mimi ion like that shi

Mimi💓: aw is someone getting sexual frustrated with me?🤭

Joshua🖤: YES I am and you keep fucking playin Mimi

Mimi💓: I told you, you have to keep working hard for this and for us to be together again and I think you're doing a good job

Joshua🖤: so what that mean?

Mimi💓: that means you get a surprise for working so hard Papa

Joshua🖤: just wait Ouu just fucking wait until I have my hands on you baby girl

Mimi💓: what'chu gonna do to me Papa?

Joshua🖤: it's better to show you than tell you and no fucking runnin' you hear me?

Mimi💓: mhm sure do

Joshua🖤: send me some pictures please

Mimi💓:

Joshua🖤 heart both attachments

Joshua🖤: fuck you're so fucking pretty Ma

Mimi💓: pretty for you

Joshua🖤: mhm...

Mimi💓: I gotta get back to work papa I'll text you later?

Joshua🖤: aight then mamas I love you ❤️

Mimi💓: I love you too papa

Miyori smiled warmly as she heard a knock on the door, and she looked up to see Kelly peeking her head in once more. She gestured for her to come into the office.

"What's up Kelly?" She asked.

"You have a visitor, and he seems a bit angry?" Kelly said.

 "Did you get a name for this person?" Kelly nodded and informed Miyori that it was Aaron who was coming to see her, prompting a deep sigh and an eye roll from Miyori.

"Just bring him in here so I can get this over with." Kelly nodded in agreement as she followed the instructions, gently closing the door behind her. She couldn't help but wonder what he, of all people who had come to visit her, could possibly want after the stunt he pulled.

Was he feeling hurt because she was rekindling her relationship with Jey after he had put in so much effort to win her heart again, or was it simply jealousy that fueled his emotions? When she heard the door creak open, there he was, standing tall, his face set in a serious expression.

Was he feeling hurt because she was rekindling her relationship with Jey after he had put in so much effort to win her heart again, or was it simply jealousy that fueled his emotions? When she heard the door creak open, there he was, standing tall, his face set in a serious expression.

"Are you fucking kidding me Mimi? You're getting back together with him?" Aaron looked at her, curiosity evident in his eyes, as she stood with her arms crossed.

"Yeah, and what about it? Why does it concern you so much about who am I with? Does Normani know that you're here?" Miyori firmly held her position, expressing that she simply couldn't afford to waste any more time on this.

"What's the purpose for this? He can't be better than me ." She was in disbelief at the words coming out of his mouth; could he really be serious? "Aaron, please, Jey is much more better than you despite what he did we have history together that chemistry that you and I didn't have."

Aaron laughed softly as he walked back and forth, putting on a brave face while hiding his true feelings. Deep down, he felt a pang of jealousy that he was reluctant to acknowledge. It bothered him to see Jey effortlessly win her over, treating her to nice things and taking her out on dates, all the little moments he couldn't help but notice on social media.

She radiated a light he had never witnessed in her before, all thanks to Jey, who brought her joy and made her feel cherished. That was all she had ever desired, but if it wasn't with him, it simply wouldn't do for her.

"If you're done, you can leave I got clients coming in soon." She spoke breaking the silence between them.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me that you don't love that nigga Mimi tell me..." He exclaimed, clutching her arm firmly, which made her wince in pain. "Tell me that you don't love him after everything he has done to you." He gazed at her, his deep-set eyes seeming to penetrate her very essence.

Miyori was fully aware of her deep love for Jey; she just wanted him to put in the effort to earn it. In contrast, her feelings for Aaron were nonexistent, especially after he betrayed her trust by cheating and expressing his boredom with her. As she gazed into his eyes, she leaned in closer, determined to confront him.

"I love him Aaron, whether you like it or not I don't care, and weren't you the same nigga that said that he was bored of me? And my sex game was horrible?" She retorted.

"Yeah, I did and it's true." It caused her to chuckle darkly at him. "Then what the fuck are you pressing me for then? Sounds like you're jealous Aaron." She was correct; he felt a pang of jealousy seeing how well that other guy, someone from her past, was treating her. It truly affected him deeply.

The atmosphere in the room became tense as they locked eyes, each lost in their thoughts without uttering a single word. Miyori sighed and rolled her eyes, glancing at her Apple Watch to check the time.

"You can leave my office now." She pulled her arm free from his grasp and moved past him to return her clients' files to the folder. Suddenly, he grabbed her hair and pressed his lips against hers. The unexpectedness of the moment took her by surprise, but she quickly reacted, pushing him away and slapping his face in the process.

Leaving him stunned as she glared at him.

"The fuck is your problem! You know what get out! Get the fuck out!" Miyori shouted while pushing and shoving him out the door.

As security entered the room, they quickly apprehended the officer, who was struggling to resist. In the chaos, he managed to strike one of the security personnel, causing her to stumble and fall to the ground. Meanwhile, Aaron was being escorted out of the office, his voice echoing as he yelled and shouted in frustration.

Miyori noticed a warm sensation running down her face and, upon touching her nose, realized it was bleeding. She quickly rose from the ground and made her way to her desk to grab some tissue. As she leaned forward, she caught sight of Kelly entering the room, worry etched on her face.

"Oh my goodness, Miyori are you okay?" Kelly asked coming to her aid.

"Y-yeah, I'm good Kelly, I'm good." She said.

"Do you need a moment before your clients show up today?" Miyori gave a slight nod as she made her way out of the office, heading down the hallway toward the bathroom.

Miyori gazed into the mirror, pulling the bloodied tissue from her nose. Her reflection revealed a chaotic visage, a clear reminder of the turmoil caused by that foolish decision. Deep down, she had anticipated this outcome the moment she ended things with him.

He had always struggled with feelings of possessiveness and jealousy, especially when he learned that she was seeing someone else after their breakup. While he knew he could be intense, Jey's emotions ran even deeper. If he had been aware of what was happening, he would have rushed to her side without a second thought, ready to confront Aaron for treating her poorly.

She wiped her face clean and took several deep breaths, slowly opening her eyes as she reassured herself, "You're alright, Mimi, you're alright." With a sense of calm, she discarded the bloody tissues and stepped out of the bathroom, making her way back to her office.

☞

Jey sat on the tour bus, scrolling through TikTok and chuckling at the funny videos, all the while trying to push thoughts of Miyori from his mind. He missed her deeply, and the ache of her absence was almost unbearable. He found himself hoping that after this Friday, he would finally get to see her again. Lost in his thoughts, he suddenly noticed someone standing in front of him. Looking up, he saw Jaida with her arms crossed, watching him intently.

She grabbed his phone from him, knowing it would upset him, and it definitely stirred him up as she anticipated.

"Yo' what the fuck is yo' problem Jaida? Give me back my shit." Jey snarled.

"No! Because what the fuck is this huh!" She raised her voice while displaying images and text conversations with Miyori, which made him smirk.

"You know what it is Jaida don't play fucking dumb aight? I told you me and her got some history together."  She threw his phone at him while rolling her eyes scoffing in disbelief. "Man what does that bitch have that I don't?"

Jey ran his fingers through the back of his neck, his hands moving to cover his face as disbelief washed over him. He couldn't fathom that he was facing this situation now, especially given how sexually frustrated he had been since leaving. The longing for Miyori's touch was overwhelming; he craved the way she would tug at his hair, pushing him to confront his feelings. He truly missed those moments.

"Watch yo' mouth when you speaking on her, she does a lot for me than you do I mean hell you barely show me any attention so I got my attention somewhere else." He remarked as he reclined on the sofa, his arms extended wide.

As Jimmy and Trinity drove to the next town for their house shows that evening, they observed the situation unfolding around them.

"But you're with me! You cheated on her with me!"

"And I wish I didn't maybe if yo' little homeboys didn't throw you at me we wouldn't be in this situation but here we are right?"

"So what? She's better than me?"

Jey nodded his head while leaning in placing his arms on his knees. "Yeah, Miyori always been better than you Jaida, like I said you don't give a man no time or even like affection from me." He noticed the tears welling up in her eyes, but it didn't seem to matter to him at all. Why should he feel any compassion for her when she was simply reflecting the emotions he was grappling with himself?

"I'm telling you what it is and what it ain't so you won't get no false promises of us being together forever." His words shattered her heart, but to him, it was inconsequential. He couldn't grasp why she was in tears, especially since she had never expressed any affection towards him before.

"So you never loved me?" Jaida asked.

"I did love you but once you started acting differently and showing me less affection I just knew I made the wrong mistake." In that moment, she struck him across the face with a force that made both Jimmy and Trin flinch, as if they were the ones feeling the sting of the blow.

Jey rubbed his face, trying to keep his composure. He never faced this kind of situation when he was with Miyori; they would simply communicate and then share an intimate moment, avoiding all the toxic behaviors. He wasn't one to engage in that kind of drama unless someone really provoked him.

Jaida stormed off to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Jey let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple in frustration. All he could think was that he needed Miyori at that moment. With that thought in mind, he got up from the sofa and made his way to the bathroom.

"He finna go blow off some stream." Jimmy said as Trinity hit him upside the head.

iMessage 💬 Joshua🖤: mamas?

Mimi💓: hm?

Joshua🖤: you okay? sounds like you're stressed did something happen?

Mimi💓: mhm but idk if I should tell you knowing how you are.

Joshua 🖤: what happened?

Mimi💓: you promise you won't get mad?

Joshua🖤: I can't promise that if it's that bad for you to tell me so what happened Mimi?

Mimi💓: Aaron came to my job and we had an argument about you and me being together

Joshua🖤: he sounds very jealous to me

Mimi💓: that's what I said but the problem is he got so pissed off about it he...

Joshua🖤: what he do Mimi don't hide nun from me you know I'm here

Mimi💓: he slapped me in my face causing my nose to bleed but I'm okay I swear

Joshua🖤: does his bitch ass wanna get fucked up?

Mimi💓: Joshuaaaa you promised

Joshua🖤: I never said that and I don't play about you

Mimi💓: I know you don't but I don't want you to go crazy security took him out

Joshua🖤: that's don't matter he'll come up there as many times as he want just to put his hands on you and I won't stand for that shit period

Mimi💓: don't book a flight down here Joshua please I can protect myself just focus on your house shows please for me

Joshua🖤: Baby Girl

Mimi💓: pleaseeee 🥺 Joshua🖤: aight aight I won't but fuck I miss you

Mimi💓: you do?

Joshua🖤: yess I fucking miss yo' ass I need to blow off some steam mamas

Mimi💓: lms

Joshua🖤: sends attachment/ look what you're doing to me Ma I need you

Mimi💓: hm since you've been working so hard for me I'll help you out Papa

Joshua🖤: please do mamas please

(MINI SMUT WARNING) - PHONE SEX JEY AND MIYORI

Jey had pulled down his sweats along with his boxers seeing his dick springing up hitting him on his stomach as pre-cum was already spilling out from the tip while he stroked his dick up and down.

Mimi💓: you ready for me Papa?

Joshua🖤: fuck yes mamas talk to me

Mimi💓: stroke it nice and slow for me Papa

He followed her instructions slowly stroking his member up and down feeling a lump inside of his throat as he threw his head back listening to her soft voice through the phone

Mimi💓: you miss this pretty pussy Papa?

Joshua🖤: yes I miss that shit mamas...ohh fuck I miss it so bad

Mimi💓: how bad Papa? Tell mama how bad you miss her pussy

The way her voice was through the phone was turning him on so much he couldn't wait to see her again and fucked her senselessly through the mattress.

Joshua🖤: I miss it so fucking bad Mimi...I wanna taste her and be near her..

Mimi💓: whatchu going do to me papa? When you come see me?

Joshua🖤: Imma beat that pussy up mamas imma beat it up good so you can never forget who it belongs to

Mimi💓: you know it's your Papa it's been yours stroke that dick faster for me

Jey did what he was told to do stroking his dick in a fast pace manner brushing his thumb against the head of his dick making him lose control over himself.

Joshua🖤: Mamasss keep talkin to me please

Mimi💓: you like working hard for me huh? Just to get back with me?

Joshua🖤: I love it mamas I fucking love it imma keep working hard for you fuck

Mimi💓: stroke it faster baby c'mon

Speeding up his pace he rolled his eyes in the back of his head clenching his thighs in the process while rubbing against his body with his other hand imagining that it was her doing all of this to him while she was bouncing on his dick or him fucking her silly.

Mimi💓: that dick is mine right? It don't belong to that bitch or anyone else but me right Papa?

Joshua🖤: yess this dick is yours Mimi all yours ouuu shit I'm finna nut

Jey felt his dick twitching in his hands as he kept stroking it in a fast manner feeling his body shaking letting his toes curls up.

Mimi💓: you gon' cum for me?

Joshua🖤: I'm finna nut Baby girl Ouu I wish it was your pretty ass face I could nut on right now

Mimi💓: cum for me Papa cum for mama

Joshua🖤: fuckkk mamas fuckkk

Jey let out a guttural moan escape his lips as ropes of his cum began shooting out ropes after ropes over his hand while he was breathing heavily up and down stroking his dick slowly making sure that all of his nut spilled out from his tip.

Joshua🖤: fuck Ma got me making a mess and shit

Mimi💓: my bad Papa but do you feel better?

Joshua🖤: hell yeah much more better

Mimi💓: I hope Jon and Trin didn't hear you

Joshua🖤: probably did but ion care I fucking miss you

Mimi💓: I miss you too

Joshua🖤: if you miss me then why don't you come see me this weekend I'm off

Mimi💓: un-un see you tryna be slick boy

Joshua🖤: ion know what you talkin about mamas

Mimi💓: you think you slick boy go clean yourself up I'll text you later okay?

Joshua🖤: aight then mamas

CALLED END - SMUT OVER

Jey was tidying himself up when he heard a knock at the door, with Jimmy's voice faintly echoing in the background.

"You good in there Uce!" Jimmy shouted.

"Yeah, I'm good dawg I'll be out there in a minute." Jey said.

"A'ight we gonna stop to get some food since Trin said that she was getting hungry." Jey managed to clean his cum off of his body and hands while turning off the sink grabbing his phone in the process while heading out the door seeing his brother standing there.

"What?" Jey questioned him.

"You and Mimi are nasty as hell dawg." He commented on as Jey smacked his lips at him while shoving him away playfully.

☞ Miyori arrived home safely, parking her car in the driveway and turning off the engine. She reached for her purse from the passenger seat, stepped out of the car, and walked toward the front door. As she opened the door, she noticed Jasmine sitting in the living room, watching TV. Their eyes met, and a moment of connection passed between them.

"Heyyy bestie how was work?" Jasmine asked as she seen Miyori placing her purse on the couch.

"Girl, let me fucking tell you who showed up." She said while sitting next to her.

"What happened bestie?" Miyori shared with Jasmine the events that unfolded at work involving her and Aaron. She recounted how he had come to her workplace, visibly upset about her reconciling with Jey. She also mentioned the troubling incident where he had put his hands on her, which left Jasmine feeling furious.

"Girl, what?! Do I gotta whoop his ass? Does Josh know about this?" She asked as she stood up

Miyori urged her to take a seat and calm down. She confided in Jey about the incident with Aaron, still in disbelief that he would resort to slapping her at work just because he had cheated.

"He sounded jealous if you ask me bestie."

"That's what I literally said to him too, like how you gonna get mad at I'm finna be back with my ex-boyfriend you know." Jasmine nodded, fully grasping Miyori's feelings about the situation. While she shared her best friend's disapproval of Jey's betrayal, she also felt uneasy about Aaron due to his possessive nature.

"I understand bestie that's why I'm glad you and Josh are working it out together."

Miyori gave her a warm smile as she settled into the sofa, taking out her phone to browse her social media. As she scrolled, she noticed a few messages from Jey's girlfriend, who seemed to be reaching out to her.

IG messages 💬 jaidaparker_wwe: YOU ARE SUCH A SLUT

jaidaparker_wwe: RUIN MY RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM STUPID BITCHjaidaparker_wwe: JUST WAIT UNTIL I SEE YOU ITS UP THERE FR

miyorisworld: you done baby girl? It's not my fault that he wanted me back it's basically your fault for not doing your job as a girlfriend 🤷🏽‍♀️ jaidaparker_wwe: I WAS DOING MY JOB

miyorisworld: if you were he wouldn't be coming back to me now would he? And apparently you didn't do enough for him to want you so I have one up on you yet again sweetheart

jaidaparker_wwe: imma beat tf outta you when I catch you little girl you ain't better than me

miyorisworld: honey I'm better than you can imagine he know where home is and he's coming right back to it so don't get your hopes up aight? Now please stop playing on my phone.

Miyori decided to silence Jaida's constant messages, which seemed aimed at proving her superiority. She had no interest in engaging with those threats; they didn't affect her at all. Miyori was confident in her position regarding her relationship with Jey.

After her shower, Miyori slipped into her cozy pajamas and nestled into her bed, which still carried the comforting scent of Jey. She hugged her pillow tightly as she opened her laptop to book a flight for the upcoming weekend. With a day off ahead, they were excited to head to Indy for Friday Night Smackdown, so she quickly secured the nearest flight available.

As she completed the ticket purchase, a message from Jey appeared on her screen, bringing a smile to her face.

Joshua🖤 sent a message

Joshua🖤: hey pretty lady

She messaged him back.

iMessage 💬 Mimi💓: Hey handsome wyd

Joshua🖤: chilling in the hotel room hbu?

Mimi💓: booking a flight right now

Joshua🖤: 🤨 where you finna go?

Mimi💓: I can't tell you or it'll ruin the surprise

Joshua🖤: what you got planned mamas?

Mimi💓: Joshua I can't tell you

Joshua🖤: mmcht mane but how's your day been

Mimi💓: it's been good expect the fact that your girl keeps harassing me

Joshua🖤: bout what?

Mimi💓: about us I literally told her what it is and what it ain't

Joshua🖤: don't worry about her she's not important she know the history between us

Mimi💓: did you have a match ?

Joshua🖤: yeah I got the W for tonight though

Mimi💓: perioddd as you should I'm proud of you papa

Joshua🖤: thank you baby girl fuck I wish you were here so we could cuddle up with each other

Mimi💓: is you and shawty sharing a room together?

Joshua🖤: nah we got separated hotel rooms

Mimi💓: mhm but you've been doing so good working hard for me

Joshua🖤: I'll do anything for you baby girl you know that

Mimi💓: ofc baby

Joshua🖤: but imma let you get some rest got some pictures for me mamas?

Mimi💓: no I didn't take any today but I gotchu tmr tho 🫶🏽

Joshua🖤: aight then mamas goodnight 💗

Mimi💓: goodnight 🫶🏽

She set her phone down on the dresser and nestled deeper into the blankets, inhaling the comforting scent he had left during his last visit. Little did he know, she was planning to surprise him soon, recognizing how hard he had been working for her. He truly deserved it.

She gently shut her eyes, allowing herself to drift off into slumber.

IMPERFECT FOR YOU

A/n: Miyori is finally going to see Jey and soothing his nerves after crashing out that miss you sex finna hit differently. You think Jaida is going to beat Miyori up or will Miyori get one up on her?

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below ⬇️

STAY UCEY.

[enigmaris]

Lois writes the article. The Justice League freaks out. Investigations are done, meetings are held. In the mean time, a suspected connection between ghosts and the lazurus pits means that there is a very specific person who wants a one on one with Phantom even though all of the heroes agreed to not approach phantom until the anti ecto acts are gone. Jason never follows the rules anyway:

“Daniel Phantom, do not even think about it.”

Her tone of voice made every bone in his body yearn to turn invisible immediately, Lois jumped up trying to catch him. Danny grinned and got ready to fly away, a game of tag would keep Lois from questioning him! Right before Danny’s plan could commence, the sound of Lois's phone ringing cut it off. Danny froze as Lois pulled out her phone and looked at the screen.

“It’s Batman. Wonder what he could possibly need.”

Danny let himself fly all the way to the ceiling, until his back was pushed up against it. He looked down as Lois answered her phone, helpfully putting it on speaker.

“You’re on speaker Bats, what can Lois Lane and her plucky new intern do for you?”

“Intern?” A voice Danny didn’t know answered back. “I thought Superman was the only one for you. I guess you move fast, Lois.”

“Nightwing.” Lois said. “What are you doing calling from Batman’s phone?”

“If B didn’t want me to use his phone, he should have called you himself. You know how he is, Lois. Won’t ever ask for help unless he’s about to die and not even then.” Nightwing snarked back. “Gotham’s got a bit of a supernatural concern that I think I need a consult from your intern for.”

Danny tilted his head, not moving closer to Lois when she looked up at him.

“What sort of concern? I’ll pass along your message if it's interesting enough. My intern’s got enough on his plate getting me coffee to watch after you birds.”

“Fair enough.” Nightwing allowed. “We think one of our own is ecto-contaminated. To be entirely fair we all might be a bit, not that we’ve gotten our hands on a GIW scanner. The real concern is with Red Hood though. I know your report said that ecto-contamination is harmless but Red Hood has had some interesting side effects since he took a bath in some glowing green goop.”

“A bath?” Danny asked, his voice echoing out from the ceiling.

There was a pause on the other end of the call before Nightwing spoke again.

“Yes. A bath. Do the words Lazurus Pit mean anything to you, Miss Lane’s Intern?”

“Never heard of it.” Danny said, trying not to let himself sound ashamed by it. “But I don’t like the name. Sounds spooky.”

“Aren’t you a spook?”

“Different kind of spook.” Danny defended.

“Well. We think it might actually be the same sort of spook actually. The Lazurus Pits are pools of glowing green liquid, no one knows where they came from. There are a dozen or so dotted around the planet. If a sick or dying person goes into it, they are healed sometimes with side effects. If a healthy person goes in, they die.” Nightwing said. “Sometimes if people go into, they don’t come out again.”

Danny... might actually know what those are. Huh.

“What kind of side effects?”

"Homicidal rage. Memory loss. Temporary increased strength. Glowing eyes.”

“Okay. And how long has Red Hood being dealing with this?”

“On and off for about five years.” Nightwing answered.

“I might actually know what’s going on.” Danny said. “But I’d have to see him. I’m not like a ghost doctor or anything, but if it's what I think it is, then I can fix it for sure.”

“Fix it?” Another voice from the phone asked.

Danny could hear a scuffle over the phone as two people wrestled for it. He exchanged looks with Lois until the second voice seemed to get the phone under his control completely.

“What do you mean by fix it?” the second voice demanded.

“Erm. Who is this?”

“Red Hood. Who the fuck else?”

“I don’t know who has access to Batman’s phone dude, chill.”

“Don’t tell me to chill. Tell me what you mean by fix it.”

"Dude. I have ice powers I absolutely can tell you to chill.” Danny shot back making Lois snort.

"Start. Talking.”

“He wasn’t kidding about the anger issues huh?” Danny asked Lois instead of answering. Danny grinned when he heard a growl over the phone. “Look. Red Hood. I don’t know if it is what I think it is. I need to see you in person before I can tell you anymore. Do you know how many glowing green goops there are in the universe?”

“Do you?” Nightwing asked, voice muffled as he was further from the phone. Danny listened as Red Hood told Nightwing to ‘shut the fuck up’ with a hiss.

"I’ll send Lane an address in Gotham. Meet me there in an hour.” Red Hood instructed.

“How do you know I’m free in an hour? I’m a busy intern you know. You’re not being very polite.”

Danny could hear the teeth grinding on the other end. He grinned as Red Hood took in a deep breath through his nose.

“Can we please meet in an hour?” Red Hood asked.

“Yeah sure. I’ll fly by.”

“Now what do we say to people who do nice things for us?” Lois asked. “Especially poor lowly interns who have an entire branch of the government hunting them?”

“Would you like me to blow up a GIW base for you?” Red Hood asked.

"Hood no!” Nightwing shouted.

“Hood yes.” Hood said.

The two vigilantes started arguing with each other, so Lois just rolled her eyes and ended the call.

If Lois Lane had a nickle for every time she had to help an overpowered boy from the midwest with the power of journalism, she'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but its weird that its happened twice.

Danny watched as Lois pulled out her phone and pulled up a recording app.

“What are you doing?”

“You came to a journalist and are surprised to get an interview?” She asked him, her tone clearly joking. “What you’ve given me here is great kid, but newspaper clippings and copies of federal laws don’t get the public’s attention. I need a story, Phantom’s the story.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

Lois looked at him, less than impressed. Slowly, she turned the screen of her computer until it was visible to both of them. There, in full clarity, was a front-page story from his hometown newspaper. ‘Danny Phantom saves Bus Full of Children!’ and there was a picture of him in his ghost form, his face crystal clear on her screen.

"Phantom’s a ghost. I’m just a dumb kid.” Danny tried again.

Lois pinched the bridge of her nose with her right hand and muttered to herself.

“Why do all you midwestern boys have the same schtick?”

“I’m sorry?” Danny said, unsure if he should be apologizing or not.

“Changing your last name from Fenton to Phantom does not a secret identity make kid. It might work for most civilians, but anyone familiar with the hero game will clock you from a mile away.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

“Sure, kid. But I’m sure you have a way for me to interview him, right? Because I want to talk to him before I do anything else about your town.”

Danny hugged himself and looked down at his knees.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Not the worst I’ve seen. Wonder Woman’s is paper thin. I'm pretty sure most people in DC know who she is outside of the cape and just don’t say anything because she scares them.”

Danny snorted involuntarily at that, looking back up at the woman.

“What’s going on in your town, Phantom? Why come to a journalist and not the Justice League?”

“The Anti-Ecto Acts got passed like a year ago. They state that only being that produces or contains ectoplasm above a certain amount is considered non-sapient and is to be turned over to the government for disposal.” Danny said. “I put the whole thing in there for you to read, but it's long. Amity Park has a lot of ectoplasm in it. It's seeped into the air and water. Normal human people have it in them now. At first, those agents were just firing at me whenever I finished a ghost fight. I could deal with that. Their aim is terrible anyway. But then they figured out that humans can become contaminated with ectoplasm. They decided that meant the entire town was under their jurisdiction. They've decided that means that no one in town counts as human anymore, that we don’t have rights, that they’re doing us a favor by not just exterminating the entire town like the law says.”

Danny leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk in front of Lois Lane. He looked right into her bright eyes and spoke seriously.

“When it was just ghosts under attack, I didn’t think anyone would care. I’ve tried calling the Justice League for help, but they’ve brushed me off. People need to know what’s happening. Anyone can become ecto-contaminated. You just have to be in the right place at the wrong time. It’s not right what’s happening to Amity, Miss Lane. I came to you because if anyone could get the world to listen, to believe, then it's got to be you.”

And Lois Lane smiled. It was a proud, eager smile. The kind of smile Danny had seen on Sam right after she convinced the school to serve a vegan lunch. He barely held back from shivering.

“Well then, Mr. Phantom.” Lois said, before tapping onto the recording app on her phone and starting a recording. “Let’s begin.”

[staytiny-dreams]

hey best friend beomgyu part ii (c.bg x reader)

parings: loser! choi beomgyu x loser! reader

genre: social media! au (and some written), fluff, a little bit of angst but not rly, best friends to lovers

warnings: girlfriend used again (apologies, my fics tend to be a little self indulgent), still losers with no friends

sc: 6 / wc: 1k

note: sorry this took a while, with zb1 comeback and classes starting back up again i've been tired as shit. also i wasn't sure how to format the ss with the writing so let me know what you think :) there will probs be one more little bonus part to this story 🧡

your stomach twisted as you approached your front door.

beomgyu hadn’t said anything all day after you had revealed to him that you actually had been upset when he cancelled on dinner the other night.

you know you’re allowed to feel upset but you didn’t really want to turn this into a big deal, or make beomgyu feel bad since you had technically told him it was okay.

but keeping it inside was eating at you, and you knew talking it out would be the healthy thing to do.

except beomgyu didn’t seem to want to talk, beyond admitting that he messed up. there wasn’t even a real apology.

“maybe i should call him,” you mutter to yourself as you close and lock your front door behind you.

“call who?” you squeal and whip around as beomgyu’s question fills the room.

“beomgyu, what the fuck?” you exclaim, and only after your heartbeat slows do you notice the dimmed lights and the soft rock playing quietly from the radio.

“what are you doing here?”

beomgyu doesn’t say much, but pulls out a small bouquet of flowers. white orchids and stargazer lilies, smaller flowers and delicate leaves peek through the large petals all wrapped in white cellophane tied together with a pretty pink ribbon.

your heartbeat begins to pick back up, reaching out to take the flowers from the man who wears a guilty grimace.

with the flowers in your embrace, he ushers you into the dining room with a gentle hand on your back.

you’re met with lit candles and a set table, the sweet scent of roast vegetables fills the room.

“dinner’s just in the oven still.” he finally speaks and you turn back to face him where he stands at the doorway.

for what you think is the first time in your life, you feel somewhat awkward around beomgyu.

“why are you standing there like you’re afraid of me? come inside.” you urge. the distance he kept from you felt like it stretched for miles and despite being upset, you just wanted him back by your side.

“y/n i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry.” he says, taking a few strides towards you.

“no, beomgyu i told you it’s my fault. if i wanted you there i should have said no when you called and asked to stay with heeseung.”

he puts his hands on your shoulders, his touch so warm you can feel it through your shirt. his big doe eyes stare imploringly into your own. you think, if you looked long enough, you could see every emotion of his, every thought, spilling out of the galaxy swirling in his eyes.

“no baby, i was wrong. i should have never put you on the spot like that and i should never have prioritised heeseung over plans we had already made. especially meeting your parents.”

you agree with what he is saying. he was wrong, but for some reason the guilt still weighs heavy on your chest.

unable to face his intensity head on, you break eye contact and look down to the flowers you still cradle in your arms.

“yeah. you were kind of a jerk, weren’t you?”

“a big time jerk, baby. i’m so sorry. i was just excitable and hyped up and i wasn’t thinking.” one of his hands slides from your shoulder to your face, urging you to look at him again.

“i think my thought process was that i’d already met your parents before,”

“but not as my boyfriend, gyu!” you cut him off and despite the shrill tone of your voice, the tension in beomgyu’s body finally loosens.

you called him gyu.

“i know, you’re right. neither of those things are an excuse. i need to show up when i say i’m going to. let me make it up to you, angel?”

you look down at the flowers in your arms, thumb brushing over a large, pointed petal.

“well it seems like you’re fully aware of the problem here… and they are really pretty flowers…” you mumble shyly, beomgyu’s gaze still bores into you with a sincerity and an urgency you’ve never felt from him before.

“and i’ve made your favourite dinner, and we’ll reschedule dinner with your parents, okay baby? and i'll pay.” both his hands shift down to your waist and your face heats up at the action.

“you don’t have to do that, gyu.”

“but i want to, baby. it’s not just you i have to make it up to. i owe your parents an apology as well.”

a smile finally breaks out on your cheeks at the full feeling in your heart.

“i accept your apology, gyu. i love you.” you look up at him, eyes sparkling with tears as the day's emotions rise up in your throat.

“i love you too, angel.” pulling your body flush against his own, and crushing some flowers in the process, he presses his lips to yours.

you melt into him, all the guilt, all the worry and any residual frustration seeping out of you, leaving you all but boneless against him.

it doesn’t matter though because his grip is tight as he holds you up, and his lips chase yours relentlessly at the slightest separation.

only when his lungs were burning did he finally pull away, resting his forehead rest against your own.

“but, angel you know you can talk to boyfriend beongyu when you’re upset with him right? i always want you to feel like you can come to me. best friend beomgyu is for the trivial stuff like when i chew too loud. if you're really upset, baby, tell me. okay?”

“i know. you’re right, i just… didn’t know how to bring it up. i thought you might be upset since i changed my mind.”

“no, sweetheart. i should never have asked to cancel in the first place, but even then, you’re allowed to change your mind about whether you’re upset or not. your feelings aren’t less valid just because they came on later.”

you stare at him in awe for a moment, searching his eyes, gaze flicking down to his lips for a split second. then you grab his neck and pull him to meet your lips once again.

“what was that for?” he asks when you

“emotional intelligence is so hot.“

beomgyu throws his head back in a laugh, caught off guard by your bold flirt.

“wow. you’re such a loser.” he grins, poking your side playfully.

“well, yeah. i think we’ve long established that.” you shrug, leaning back in to kiss your loser once more.

(part i) (part iii)

[cococowboah]

Patreon removed a story of mine as a character in it suffered from SA instigated by her father.

Now, Patreon can do whatever it wants, that's their platform. But they specifically asked me to remove that part of the story if I wanted it to stay up.

I'm pissed, not because "oh no, I can't make money on it," no. Nobody was reading SPURRED, it wasn't an active project, and I'm not currently making money on ANY of my projects anyway. I don't care about that.

What I'm pissed about is how this might affect my future works if I ever do begin making a living from my work through Patreon. I'm not going to just change my characters stories because they deal with uncomfortable topics like SA. I'm an SA survivor, I write characters who are SA survivors. I'm not going to censor myself or my projects because a corporation says I need to if I want to benefit from their platform.

So, I don't really know what to do now. Pieces of Him is also going to deal with SA. I can't even consider putting it on Patreon now knowing I'm going to get a notice that I need to change pivotal moments of a character's backstory for the sake of a corporation wanting to maintain a squeaky clean image.

And before anyone asks, no, the story did not explicitly detail the SA itself. Insinuation was as far as I went. I wanted the reader to feel uncomfortable without feeling offended. I wanted the reader to feel uncomfortable because it's an uncomfortable fucking topic and it shouldn't be skirted around. If someone didn't like it they didn't need to read it.

I'm so sick of how censored the internet is getting. It's NOT for the sake of protecting SA survivors who may be triggered by certain details of a story. This is about making the internet nice and clean and proper for advertisers and investors. It's not about you. It's not about me. It's about money and it always will be.

If it were about protecting survivors, then they would acknowledge that engaging with media that explicitly deals with those subjects and characters overcoming the trauma surrounding SA can be cathartic for survivors if they choose to do so.

Again if you are uncomfortable with something then do. not. read. it. There is a detailed warning at the beginning of the story. It is the responsibility of the reader to gauge what they're okay with and not okay with. Not mine.

I just wanna take a moment to thank platforms like AO3, our literal final bastion for freedom of speech and creativity. SPURRED isn't a fan project so it doesn't really belong on AO3 but I'm thankful that we have one place on the internet where I know my work is never going to be removed or requested to be changed for any reason whatsoever. It's the one place where I can write without the anxiety of a corporate overlord looking over my shoulder and saying "Nope! Don't like this! Change it!"

Rant over, to sum it up, fuck censorship and, does anyone know of any good Patreon alternatives? I definitely can't use them for future projects knowing what I know now. It's only a matter of time before a guidelines update gets Pieces of Him axed for "Promoting Homosexuality and Infidelity" as well as Paul's past as an SA survivor.

[damiel-of-real]

that fucking flower i hate

[redjaybathood]

That's probably because deep down you are tankie-adjucent or just not that good at judgment, maybe your own colonial past influences things, but you don't want to admit it. I recognise this manner of talking over Ukrainians ✨ for our own good✨ or ✨for the fairness ✨ , completely disregarding the current dynamics or how russia utilizes it's culture as a tool of imperialism and colonialism.

But Idk, I'm not your therapist or your priest. Face your idiosyncrasies yourself. Do some soul-searching. Read some Ukrainians. Idk.

I speak two Slavic languages, freely read another, learning yet another: believe me, speaking a Slavic language doesn't make you a tankie. Scaremongering and spreading pro russian misinformation about Ukrainians does, tho, depending on your motives

Where did I say it's good or bad for Ukraine? I said I will not support anyone who does learn russian in our god's year 2025, voluntarily, because it's fun, like I wouldn't support anyone voluntarily walking into a gas chamber because they have a kink for asphyxiation. But that never happened, and people are really learning russian and sometimes even proudly so.

Am I, a Ukrainian who spoke russian before they ever heard a word of Ukrainian; who grew up surrounded by russian language - at home, on the streets, in school, in books, TV, radio, movies; who grew up being told that I'm a russian because Ukraine doesn't really exist, but also that I am less than russian, because I am not really from russia, that I am from small russia, which makes me lessser than the true russian; that if I want to speak Ukrainian, read Ukrainian, watch a TV show in Ukrainian, I'm at best laughable, a village person, but I'm probably a Nazi and should be shot for my language of preference; I, someone who lived under russian occupation where people disappeared for just wearing wrong colours, much less speaking the wrong language; I, who is living under russian terror of rockets and Shakheed drones - and I am the lucky one, I'm far away from the front line, it's just won't help me to get even one night of sleep because my city under attack daily; am I allowed to feel a certain way about this, or do I need your permission?

And I dunno about russian breeds being cancelled. Maybe you are talking about Caucasian Shepherd, restricted because it is categorised as a dangerous dog, long before 2022 or even 2014 (but be for real, nobody cared about Ukraine in 2014). It's restricted by Belarus, too - what rusophpbia is this??? That's sarcasm if you don't get it.

I do know about cat and dogs shows that allow russian breeders to participate, giving them publicity and new clienttele. Like here, 2023, Geneva, World Dog Show: https://www.onlinedogshows.eu/Content/Catalog/v2.8/#/menu/breedDogs/ru/2548/2847

You can go look through the full catalogue, I spent literally 5 seconds to find the first russians:

What long dead Ukrainian poets mistaken for a russian - except someone like Hohol, who was misappropriated as russian and never was a poet to begin with? And yeah, his surname never sounded russian. It sounded more like a slur on Ukranians if anything. What poets with russian sounded surnames cancelled? Unless you mean canceled as in killed by russia for, despite the surnames, not being russian like Mykola Zerov?

Or, from recent examples, Maksym Yemetz, or Oleksii Bezpaltzev, Yevhen Ponamoriov, Maksym Kryvtzov? And more, and more, and more: See for yourself in the "Nedopysani" project, to remember every poet and writer russia cancelled, permanently, for not being russian, for not speaking russian, for not writing in russian

What the actual fuck, really. Like, what?

there's literally no justification for giving people shit about what languages they've chosen to learn btw. some of you might not have dealt with it the same as i have, but it's been an annoyingly consistant theme in my life.

[nonsensechemicals]

crying whenever i talk about Cookie9 because all my friends have these interesting and unique theories on them while i take everything too literally and they all just stare at me like “dude… uuugh we r TIRED” <-they dont actually say this they are very kind to me but i can Feel It

[midnightwind]

okay tumblr decided to be Funny with me so I'm coming back to this outside of the tags because apparently I have too many thoughts about the Crows for my own good

so, cracking my knuckles because it's been a hot sec since I've sat down to be insane over the Crows and their politics! (god fuck sorry just looked up the 'cast list' for 8LT again and wdym Dante was Second Talon wtf- that feels wild okay sorry I thought Emil was Second Talon for some reason) ANYWAYS I think it's entirely possible that Caterina did not push on having Houses Balazar and Valisti vacate their spots, I would find it Highly unlikely that a Talon would not have a successor lined up should something happen to them. Caterina cannot be the only Talon thinking about Legacy and What Comes Next and even if there wasn't an obvious heir to the seat in Houses that lost their Talon I think someone would have stepped up, esp with Caterina looming over them being like “figure your shit out we have to save the country.” (internal fighting still very real, but unless a Knife tried to fight for the spot, I doubt they'd change Houses esp since we haven't heard of a Knife taking a seat recently [we don't know if Teia was Cantori before taking her seat or not to my knowledge])

although there is also a real discussion to be had about how much communication can happen between the Talons post invasion... Viago's letter to Rook mentions that writing letters to Minrathous will be almost impossible because of the Antaam (which I take with a grain of salt because why would the Assassin's Guild use mundane mail that has to be screened... and maybe he just means “they're annoyingly apt at spotting our messages so it's not worth it unless it's Important” idk, it would be on brand for him to also be like "and nothing you write is ever very important so fix that or stop trying to write me") but I think the Second and Third seats are at least still within their initial Houses from 8LT just because of the invasion looming. I do think Caterina might have gone scorched earth on House Kortez however (I can't remember if we have a Codex or dialogue citing this, I know we had a few references to fallen Houses but I read 8LT after finding those and don't want to open the game rn lmao) very much “can't know how deep the betrayal goes so burn it all to save us the trouble” you know?

so maybe Viago did become Fourth Talon after 8LT given he solved the murders and ensured Emil was caught, but then Rook happens. Rook ruins an important strike against the invaders and Viago spares them over it. Caterina understands doing anything for your family (and Rook is set up as his family and potentially his successor even!) but that can't be allowed so he has to be punished! But he's a clever Crow and a good Talon and an important piece on the board (esp when it comes to the Crown of Antiva!) so why not just take that promotion away and ensure he does better next time? scare him, ensure the Problem (Rook) is dealt with, and keep that hard worker under your thumb! I don't know if another House stepped up to fill that role or if there just currently isn't a Fourth Talon (Illario did have a full spread when he tried to take over as First Talon but maybe he just had stand ins or supporters mixed in with Teia and Viago, I don't think all the Talons are in Treviso or should all be there or could all be there that fast) I foresee Bolivar getting ousted by his own House upon his return from 8LT honestly so House Nero may still hold the Sixth seat under a new Talon, and well poor Arainai might still be 8th Talon (never rule out Zevran coming back to run chaos) but it's the weakest seat so I doubt Caterina really worried about solving that with the Antaam happening. and so as long as the House still answers and fights for the Talons in Antiva I doubt it matters who's name has the title, anyone in the House could have taken over for Giuli.

I think bare minimum that Teia should have been promoted to Sixth Talon tho she was core to finding Emil as the killer and it's esp weird considering Caterina very openly favors her. maybe they thought bumping Teia to Sixth but leaving Viago as Fifth would be too confusing? but only people who read 8LT would even find it odd (and even then, would we??) but maybe they had the seats already decided for Veilguard before Tevinter Nights was finished and things stayed the same between...

anyways, the whole of Antiva is primed for a Huge wave of reform at end of the events of Veilguard, esp if Rook is played as a Crow. the heroes of the world (this time) are all decently high ranked or highly respected assassins within the order and one of them even has ties to the crown! I think, if we had gotten to see a little further, glimpsed the road Antiva is on with ousting the Antaam, there would be a decent chance of the Crows becoming proper god damned heroes of legends to the country and Viago making a real move to take the crown from his father (with full backing from at least 2 Houses if not most of the order) and who even knows if having a full 8 Talons would even be needed then? the entire order of Crows could be going through some insane changes at the end of all this

also one other thing that was bothering me. even if we chuck it up to teia's influence and viago being super generous by not overtaking 2nd and 3rd talon (house balazar and valisti) after what happen in eight little talons, house kortez is pretty much done and gone. it makes no sense that a cuchillo house is jumping immediately to the vacated 4th talon position, viago should be a 4th talon now and teia 6th. the setup where they remained at their previous positions would only make sense if they for some reason kept 4th talon vacated, but that makes no sense, it's been years. i think it's just a slipup and by all means viago should be 4th and teia 6th at least. i would even expect more changes in the hierarchy, but on the other hand maybe caterina penalized infighting somehow now that they should be focusing on the antaam.

[ratatatastic]

"When you guys are playing and, like, we all got podcasts and there are big podcasts out there, you know, are going from series to series, and they're critiquing teams and what not—like, at the end, do you know who's chirping you? Do you pay attention to that shit? Do you know who's on your side? Do you know who's, you know, rooting against you? Do you guys pay attention to that kind-of stuff? I'm just curious." "Yeah, I think this might be the first podcast I've ever done—I'm not the biggest fan of podcasts to be honest. I think—I'm friends with that, you know, [Shane] O'Brien, and [Scottie] Upshall (2 out of the 3 cohosts of the Missin' Curfew podcast), I love those guys... so if they ask I would do it but... again they, I think—I think negativity flows through media so much that it just kind-of disgusts me and I want nothing to do with it to be honest. So I hate the negativity, I think it's crazy, I think negativity in media steers guys away from certain teams... it's like, 'Why do you want that?' right? So I don't know, I'm a huge fan of the positivity, finding the positives in players and not putting guys down especially in podcasts and stuff like that where it should be for the players, right? It should be a positive thing, something that we rally around. Especially as ex-players!" "Yeah! We're gonna pump your tires!" "That's it!" "Well, you still gotta be real though!" "No, I know!" "You know if you have a bad game—" "It's gotta be real! For sure!" "—You gotta be real! You can't fake out your audience either so it's still a business." "One hundred percent! One hundred percent, one hundred percent... and I get that but—Yeah, I mean, I saw all those Spittin' Chiclets guys all over Edmonton's bandwagon so..." "That really bothered you guys, eh? Like, I mean, you guys were paying attention to that. I mean, as evidence as well on what took place on the ice after the game... you guys weren't, like, fucking around, you were being serious, right? You guys—that really bothered you guys?" "Hundred percent." "What was it? Like, the most that bothered you about it? Just the fact that, 'Hey, you guys are rooting for them... why are you trying to celebrate with us?' I mean, was it—is it that simple?" "Exactly. Yeah, get the f—we won, get off... right? Get out of here. That's uh, yeah. I don't know, I don't want to be too controversial or anything like that. I'm a happy guy, I like everybody so... whatever." "They're all good dudes, man. Listen if they're into hockey and they're talking about hockey thats a positive one way or the other!" "Oh, they're growing the game! They're growing the game! Huge! And they're doing a great job and I've spoke with Biz [Paul Bissonnette] a few times and I know Whit [Ryan Whitney] (Cohosts of Spittin' Chiclets) and I've got no issues with any of 'em. Truly."

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

[monstersinthecosmos]

i feel like slightly younger than marius mael is the best just for flavor reasons lol. reeaally curious to know what you think

I think I usually land on slightly younger but not like a baby. Like early 30s maybe. BUT I'LL TELL YOU SOME THOUGHTS OF WHY I LIKE EACH OR WHY EACH COULD WORK:

Under 30: First of all because of Jesse's chapter in QOTD--Maharet was turned around age 20 I think? And for Jesse, I'm sure there's that sort of uncanny thing where your mind fills in blanks and makes excuses, like, her "aunt" has been around her whole life so like gee golly I guess she just looks young for her age! Except that there's like the vampire uncanniness too, so whatever you judge as an age doesn't super matter. So like, Mael blending in as one of her guy friends in his early 20s would make sense. Jesse DOES also clock him as not being human, so again I think the uncanniness might not make her peg either of them as a certain age.

I do worry if this clashes with the idea that he could properly be a priest? Caesar said that it takes 20 years to train a priest, but A) A lot of what Caesar said is like anti-Keltoi propaganda and might not be accurate since the Druids famously never left anything in writing, so there's very little first hand information about them. B) MAYBE IT'S OKAY BECUASE IN VC-VERSE TESKHAMEN IS REAL AND MAEL WAS REALLY COMMUNING WITH HIM SO IF THERE WAS LIKE MAGIC AFOOT IN THE COMMUNITY MAYBE HE GOT FAST TRACKED OR RESPECTED AS BEING SPECIAL IDK. I can work with it and make excuses lol.

I LOVE the idea of him being like a young man because of how much madder that would make Marius, plus the way he likes to mentor young blonde men lol. But it might like hurt him even worse if the author of all his misfortunate is like SOME KID.

In his 30s: Personally I usually land here because I DO wonder how long it takes him to gain status in his community and become a priest (in his 30s is still fast tracking it but maybe feels more plausible LOL) and I enjoy the idea of he and Marius being sort of similar to each other. Like, Marius often gets used as the example of Turning an Older Guy and what it means for his temperament and the way it translates to his immortality. I like imagining Mael as around Marius's age for that reason, like I want to remove all his excuses why Mael is a young stupid kid or even an old salty jerk--it forces Marius to confront that Mael is ALSO someone who is chill and smart and has had enough life experience. BUT WHILE THERE'S A WINDOW WHERE THEY COULD BE SIMILAR IN AGE, OR MAEL COULD BE A TAD OLDER, I ALSO STILL ENJOY MARIUS BEING LIKE "HE'S YOUNGER THAN ME I HATE THIS!" BECAUSE HIS AGE AND SELF-PERCEIVED WISDOM & EXPERIENCE ARE IMPORTANT TO HIS IDENTITY AND HE FEELS BELITTED LOL.

In his 40s: Makes sense for the above reason! But I like to skew younger personally just for the Marius ageism dynamic lol. Also there's something about him being a foil to Marius where like, if they're very similar in other ways it can kind of emphasize how their atheism/religion contrasts each other and affects them as people.

Over 50: ALSO POSSIBLE and it's hilarious bc in the audiobook the narrator reads him like such a grouchy old man lmao. I could see this causing a lot of resentment because Marius likes to be the oldest and wisest in the room. I could see him also being younger because Marius insults him every chance he gets and I just think he would've told us that Mael is like an old hag if it were true lol. Anyway wondering how this effects Marius's barbarian kink and how he submits to men.

[shinkai-kaiju]

i think genuinely i will actually kill someone if i have to stay here any longer. like actually.

[artemx746]

Do people not realise that a person doesn't suddenly gain full maturity and knowledge of everything when they turn 18?

[elytrafemme]

alright folks i hate to admit it and be hashtag vulnerable but the prospect of having so many doctors appointments back to back is making me genuinely feel crazy hopeless 😭 let's hope it's just my period

[tardis--dreams]

Me panicking because i have 9 missed calls and 5 emails talking about my absence and how "a colleague could take over for me" vs. Me knowing it's really not that important no matter how pushy a client is and that on top of it I'm underpaid and have way to much overtime so i shouldn't even care