#I wouldn't even be there in the first place

[wwooyology]

Blistering Heat | J.WY

「pairing」 : wooyoung x fem!reader 「word count」 : 3.7k

「synopsis」 : you started to notice changes in wooyoung's behavior, it was as if he was avoiding you entirely. he was going into a rut and kept trying to push you away, but you'd be dammed if you'd let him go through it alone.

「genre」 : hybrid!au, fox hybrid!wooyoung, human!reader, a small bit of fluff, smut (honestly just pure filth I'm ngl)

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, wooyoung goes into his rut (obvi.), clit play, unprotected sex, dom!wooyoung x sub!reader, big dick!wooyoung, rough and messy sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, messy makeout, petnames (baby, babydoll, sweetheart, pup...), biting/marking, licking, blood, slight degradation and praising, EXTREAM breeding, possessiveness, manhandling, dumbification, subspace mentioned, dirty talk, derogatory names (cocksleeve), knotting, creampie, slight cockwarming, reader does say no but only because of pleasure (everything is consensual!), hair pulling, choking, slight breath play, dacryphilia, begging, slight pain kink, forced orgasm, lmk if I missed anything!!

「notes」 : I may or may not have gone just a little stir-crazy with this one 🤓☝ I just started writing, and my fingers wouldn't stop... but here is an additional part for all of those who wanted another fic with fox hybrid!wooyoung!! I hope you enjoy lovelies!

You sat at the kitchen table with a warm cup of tea in your hands as you watched the doorway, a distant look in your eyes. Wooyoung had been acting weird for the past week. It started with him not wanting to be within a certain distance of you, to avoid you at all costs. He even stopped sleeping in the bedroom with you and would lock himself in the guest room without so much as a word. You had tried to talk to him and ask if there was anything wrong, but he would brush you off, saying he was fine.

It was some time after twelve that you saw him creep into the dining room, his fuzzy ears twitching as he looked around. As soon as his eyes met yours, he quickly averted his gaze, trying to push down the overwhelming heat that was building in his gut.

“There’s food on the stove.” You told him, trying to offer him a smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Thanks.” Wooyoung felt horrible that he was treating you like this but he’s never dealt with a rut when he was around another person, much less a human or someone he loved dearly. He was worried that he would scare you off.

You let out a deep sigh when he disappeared through the kitchen door. You wanted to understand what was going on, but he was making it hard when he wouldn’t even speak more than two words to you. Setting your now lukewarm tea down on the table, you pulled your phone from the pocket of your cardigan. You were determined to determine what was going on, whether or not he’d tell you.

Wooyoung slipped past you once more with a bottle of water in his hand, his gaze filled with guilt when you wouldn’t even look up at him. Swallowing thickly, he walked out of the dining room and made his way back to the guest room, where he would lock himself in for the next few days.

Opening your phone you went to the first person that you could think of that might have the answers you’re looking for. Hitting the green button you placed the phone against your ear, listening to the rings. After the third ring you heard the line connect before her voice flowed through the speaker.

“Hello?” 

“Hey Leila, it’s y/n.” You greeted her with a smile; it had been a while since you’d heard her voice.

“Y/n! How are you?” Leila asked, a chirp in her voice as you heard her rustling from the other side of the phone.

“I’m… okay. I actually had a question.”

“Is everything okay? It’s not the hunters again, is it?” She asked a sense of urgency in her tone to which you quickly reassured her that it wasn’t the hunters, that they hadn’t shown their faces in a while.

“It’s actually Wooyoung.” You started to explain to her everything that had been happening for the last week, and by the time you were done, she had let out a short burst of giggles. Confused, your eyebrows scrunched together, “What’s so funny? I’m actually worried something might be wrong, and I want to help.”

“Babe… he’s starting his rut.” Her words left you stunned because why hadn’t that crossed your mind? But what stunned you even more were the new few words that left her lips, “If you really want to help, the best you can do is offer yourself to him.”

–

Later that night, after getting out of the shower, you walked into your room with your towel wrapped tightly around your body. Just as you were about to grab your shirt, you heard a loud bang from the other room. Panic filled your veins, and you completely forgot about your clothes and darted out of your room. 

“Wooyoung, are you okay?” Your voice shook as you knocked rapidly on the guest bedroom door, but there was no response. Listening carefully, you could hear his labored breathing from the other side, which only caused you to worry even more. “Wooyoung, open the door.”

“Go away, y/n.” His voice was stern, but you could still hear the pain underneath. He had to have been fighting this off for a while now and it made you feel guilty that you didn’t notice before.

“I just wanna help Woo.” Your tone softened as you wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, but you knew right away it was locked when it wouldn’t budge.

“You can’t help me; just go back to– ugh!” He was cut off by a groan, and you acted quickly, rushing back to your room to grab the spare key before going back to the door.

“Stop being so stubborn, and let me help!” You scold the boy through the door as you knock, wanting to give him a chance to open it himself before you barged in. However, he didn’t give you a response, but you could hear his low growls. “You have three seconds to open this door before I open it myself.” You tried to sound authoritative, but there was still a slight tremor in your voice from the worry that was digging its claws into your spine.

You heard him grumble something from inside the room but couldn’t quite make it out. Giving him a few more moments, you started to insert the key into the keyhole.

“One.”

“Stop, y/n, I don’t want to hurt you.” You could hear the pain in his voice before the sound of another crash was heard, causing you to jump.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Woo. I trust you.” There was a softness in your tone that lured the fox to the door, his hand resting on the doorknob as he fought his inner turmoil. What if he really did hurt you? Would you forgive him? What if he scared you away? He didn’t think he would be able to live with himself if he did, but– “Please, Wooyoung.”

At the pleading tone in your voice, the last bit of his willpower faded away, and he unlocked the door before tearing it open.

A gasp fell from your lips when he appeared in front of you. His raven hair was a mess, and his ears sat flat on his head as if he were awaiting your lecture. His eyes were trained on your face, a small scowl resting upon his features, but despite all of that, you reached forward, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“God, you’re burning up.” Your voice was soft, your thumb brushing under the skin of his eye. Wooyoung closed his eyes, a low purr emitting from his throat from your touch. Until another sudden wave of heat rushed over his body, and he doubled over. 

You cried out his name before rushing to his side, worried that this might just be something more than his rut. Yet when he raised his head, you almost had to step back from the borderline predatory gleam in his eyes. That was also when he noticed that you were in nothing but a plain white towel that barely reached mid-thigh. 

Inhaling deeply, you moved closer to him as he rose back up, his eyes never leaving your form. With shaky hands, you reached down for his hand before bringing it up to your neck. Wooyoung’s pupils dilated as he felt your quickened pulse under his fingertips, almost salivating at the thought of biting into your skin. Marking you officially as his and his alone.

“I want to help Youngie.” The slight whine in your tone caused him to let out a low growl before his fingers wrapped around the delicate skin of your neck, pulling you closer to him. A choked whimper fell from your lips as you looked up at him, fingers lazily wrapping around his wrist but making no move to pull him away.

His eyes searched yours for any sign of hesitation, but all he saw was unbridled lust and need. Leaning his head down just far enough to let his nose bump against yours, he spoke in a low, growly tone.

“Are you sure? Once I start, I won’t be able to stop. No matter how much you beg.” His words send a shiver down your spine. The simple thought of him being so lost in his animalistic pleasure to the point where he’s completely ruining you made your core ache.

You bring your face just centimeters away from his, looking deep into his hooded eyes, “Ruin me then, Woo.”

Those words were the straw that broke the camel's back. His lips surged forward, crashing into yours at a bruising speed. He was moving so quickly that you could barely keep up with him, even as he released your neck.

“Woo…” You breathed out as he snatched the towel from your body, letting the cool air of the room nip at your bare skin. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving sloppy kisses in his wake. His nose pressed right against your jugular as he inhaled deeply, fingers tracing the curves of your body until he got to your hip.

“Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me, sweetheart.” He growled against your skin as he moved further down, cupping your bare heat in the palm of his hand. A small whimper fell from your lips as he parted your folds, tracing his fingertips along your slit before pressing down on your clit. “Oh, you’re already soaked, babydoll. Does the thought of me ravishing your body turn you on so much?” 

“Woo– fuck! Please.” You begged the fox, staring up at him with needy eyes, causing his dick to twitch in his pants, the last bit of his sanity slowly melting away.

Without so much as a word, he lifted your body from the ground before walking over to the bed and throwing you down onto the soft mattress. As soon as your back hit the mattress, Wooyoung was all over you, slotted right between your thighs. His lips traced every curve of your body, licking, nipping, and marking any part of your skin he could reach until you were withering underneath him.

“Youngie.” You whined, fingers threading through his soft locks until you met with the base of his ears. A low growl seeped from his throat as you gently tugged on one of his ears.

“I need to be in you, babydoll. I need to fuck your slutty little cunt until you’re filled to the brim with my seed. Until I’ve bred you properly.” His words came out in a low tone as he bit at your collarbone, slightly harder than before, nearly drawing blood. The sweet sound of your whimper went straight to his cock that was straining against his sweats.

His words left your mind spiraling. The thought of being so full of just him had your aching cunt clenching around nothing. A soft moan fell from your mouth as you pulled him back up to your swollen lips, sealing them with his in a hungry kiss.

“Yours.” You breathed out, eyes half-lidded as he pulled away, “All yours, Woo, please.”

It was then that the last bit of his sanity flew right out the window, his instincts fully taking over as he quite literally ripped his clothes from his body. Your aching cunt quivered at the sight of his throbbing cock, standing proudly against his lower stomach. 

“Gonna fuck you so good.” He growled as he took his cock into his hand, using his precum to slide up and down the length. “Everyone will know you’re mine. All mine.”

You barely had time to process what was happening as he grabbed your legs right behind your knees, pushing them up against your chest before you felt him probing at your entrance. A choked moan fell from your lips as he pushed into your needy cunt, his eyes watching as you swallowed his dick whole before he pulled back out.

“W-Woo–” You were cut off by a loud cry when he thrust back into you with an unimaginable force, nearly sending your mind into orbit.

“Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.” He repeated to word like a mantra as he fucked into your tight cunt, barely leaving you any room to breathe. He pressed down on your legs even more until you were damn near folded in half, the smooth tip of his cock pressing right against that spongy spot in your cunt with every thrust.

Tears were streaming down the sides of your face as you tried your best to keep up with his pace, fingers curled into the sheets. A broken mixture of curses and his name rolled off of your tongue, eyes rolling back as you become overtaken with pleasure.

“Your body was made just for me.” Wooyoung groaned, leaning down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss, teeth clashing together as he continued to fuck into your tight hole. “Perfect for carrying my kits.”

You clenched around him as he spoke those dirty words against your lips, swallowing all of your pretty noises. His nails dug into your thighs until they broke the skin, a trail of crimson blood flowing down the side of your leg before dripping onto the sheets. The mixture of pain and pleasure suddenly had you toppling over the edge, your back arching off the bed as a loud moan tore through your throat.

A deep animalistic growl reverberated from Wooyoung’s chest as he fucked you through your high, but never slowing down. Stars danced across your vision as he seemed to pick up the pace, his thrust growing even more harsh.

“W-Wooyoung!” You nearly screamed when his lips latched onto your neck, teeth nipping at your skin. There was no way that you were going to come out of this without any bitemarks, but you weren’t really in the right state of mind to complain.

Your hands flew to his back as soon as he latched onto the junction of your neck, his canines sinking deep into your skin. A sharp cry fell from your lips at the stinging sensation before he withdrew his fang, licking over the wound. Your nails racked against the skin of his back, causing him to hiss, his hips stuttering just slightly but never losing rhythm.

When his low, throaty groans started to turn into high-pitched whimpers, you knew he was close, just needing a little more. Trailing your hand up his back, you ran your fingers through his hair before gently taking his ear into your palm.

“F-Fuck!” He moaned loudly in your ear as he came, shooting thick, hot streams of cum deep inside your walls, his pace slowing just a bit.

Your head fell back against the soft mattress, eyes fluttering shut as his lips continued to wander the skin of your neck and shoulder. You thought he would knot you like he always had before and would call it good, but when you felt him pull away without knotting, your eyes snapped open.

“You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?” His voice was deep as he cocked his head to the side, the blackness of his pupils nearly overtaking the whites of his eyes.

The air was knocked out of your lungs when he flipped your body effortlessly, laying you flat on your stomach. His hands were quick to find your hips, pulling them up until your back was arched the way he wanted.

“I still have so much more to give you, baby.” He chuckled darkly as he pressed his tip against your twitching hole, watching as you eagerly sucked him in. You buried your face into the sheets as he pushed into you with one sharp thrust, his tip pushing right against your cervix.

Tears stained the sheets underneath you as he relentlessly bullied his cock into your abused pussy, his hands tight on your hips. Muffled cries and moans were the only sounds that emitted from your body. Your cognitive function to form words flew right out the window.

“Such a good little cocksleeve,” He cooed, leaned down until his back was pressed against your chest, his lips finding the back of your shoulder. “Taking everything, I give you like a good girl.” The mixture of his derogatory names and praises made your body melt, and if it wasn’t for his hold, you would have surely fallen flat on the mattress.

“Y-Youngie!” You cried out, fat tears falling from your eyes as he continued his relentless pace until your whole body was shaking. “Cumming! ‘M cumming!” Your voice cracked as he fucked you through another orgasm, but once again, his ministrations never stopped, much less slowed down.

White spots started to cloud your mind when he stood up straight once again, using your hips as leverage to fuck into you. Choked sobs left your lips when your body fell into a state of overstimulation. Every nerve felt as if it were on fire.

Moving one hand from your hip, Wooyoung trailed it down the length of your spine before threading his fingers through your hair. With a harsh tug, he pulled your upper body off of the bed, eliciting a strangled moan from your parted lips.

“Look at you, babydoll, such a fucking mess on my cock. Is this what you wanted? Me to fuck you completely dumb? Until the only thought in your pretty little head was my cock? Hmm?” His harsh tone had you quivering in his hold, eyes squeezing shut as you felt another orgasm building up. Letting go of your hair, he grabbed your jaw harshly, turning your head until you were looking at him. “Answer me, pup.” He growled, lips brushing against yours as you whimpered in his hold.

“Y-Yes, I want you to fuck me stupid, Youngie.” You choked out before all the air was stolen from your lungs when his lips crashed into yours. His hand fell from your jaw down to your puffy clit causing your whole body to jolt. “No, no, no, stop Wooyoung! I feel weird.” You cried out as a different type of pressure built up in your lower gut, but he didn’t stop; if anything, your broken pleas only spurred him on.

White spots clouded your vision as that coil in your gut finally snapped, and your release gushed all over Wooyoung’s fingers and cock, even soaking the sheets below your body. It felt like your soul had been detached from your body as he continued to work you through your orgasm, coaxing more and more of your sweet release out of your body.

“Look at the mess you made, sweetheart,” His teasing tone rang in your ears as your head fell back on his shoulder, legs quivering underneath your weight. He moved his hand away from your throbbing clit, allowing you just a moment to breathe before that same hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing the soft flesh.

A choked sob tore through your parted lips as he pistoned his hips into yours mercilessly. Your brain felt like it was turning into mush from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. Wooyoung’s fingers tighten around your throat as he buries his face into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all swollen with my kits.” Wooyoung licked a stripe up the back of your neck, “such a perfect mommy.” He cooed as he nipped at your skin, feeling another orgasm of his own creeping up.

“W-Woo…” You whimpered in his hold, your head empty except for the thought of his cock buried deep in you until he was sure his seed would take.

“Gonna make sure everyone knows that you’re mine.” He growled before unexpectedly biting down on the nape of your neck as he came. The sudden infliction of pain pulled yet another orgasm from your spent body, your walls fluttering around his twitching cock, milking him for all he was worth.

Pulling away from your neck, he watched with proud eyes as his mark started to bleed, your sweet crimson blood coating his lips. Your mind was beginning to blank as you slowly came down from your high, only for that peace to quickly be ripped away from you when the fox hybrid pulled out of your cunt.

A small whine emitted from your body when he bent you over once again, pressing your face into the covers. Your jaw fell slack as he pushed his still rock-hard length back into your aching cunt, the mixture of yours and his cum making his movements more fluid.

“Oh, we’re not done yet, baby,” He chuckled darkly, pistoning his hips into yours. The brute force knocked all of the lungs from your body, and all you could do was lay there and take it. The only thought in your mind was Wooyoung’s cock and how painfully good it felt, nudging against your sweet spot.

Wooyoung didn’t stop until you filled to the brim before finally knotting you; the stretch had you cumming for the nth time that night. His arms wrapped around your body as he buried his face in your chest, inhaling your scent. A small pur reverberated from his chest as you ran your shaky fingers through his hair. The world finally felt like it was coming back to you as your body lay there, soaking in each other’s warmth as if you hadn’t been doing that for the past few hours.

“Thank you, baby,” His voice was low as he peppered kisses along the expanse of your chest before resting his chin right between your breasts. You hummed, still not fully trusting your voice, and he smirked before his fingers playfully crept up your side.

“W-Wooyoung!” You choked out his name at the ticklish feeling causing him to chuckle before groaning slightly when he felt that familiar heat bloom in his chest. Noticing the sudden change, you looked down at him in worry, your fingers curling around the nape of his neck. “How much longer will this last?”

Wooyoung took a moment to respond, trying to settle himself before he lost control. He then glanced back at you with worry and borderline guilt, “probably for the next week.”Your head fell back as your eyes fluttered shut, a small groan falling from your lips. This was going to be a long week, but you couldn’t complain. You did offer to help him after all, and by the looks of it, now that he had his hands on you, he wasn’t about to let go.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[makeitagoodoneeh]

I need Europeans to understand that we don't have any TIME.

"Why do Americans drive so much? Why do they rely on microwaves? Why don't they hang their clothes out to dry? Why don't they get regular preventive healthcare? Why don't they travel? Why don't they spend time outside? Why do they buy so much convenience food? Why don't they walk? Why don't they vote? Why don't they protest? Why don't they burn the system to the ground?"

Some of your countries experienced an explosion of automation and productivity in the 20th century and at least SOMEBODY in power said "okay, let's try to make sure most people aren't miserable," and it stuck long enough, that enough people got not-miserable enough, to hang onto and slowly expand the rights and resources that keep them from living in misery.

In the US, the people in power went "okay, let's use all this automation to WRING EVERY LAST DROP OF PRODUCTIVITY out of the populace". Every time some group has won any significant struggle for more rights and social protections, there has been massive backlash orchestrated by powerful people using primarily racism but also other bigotry to sow fear and hatred and break our solidarity.

So everything about our social systems, our public spaces, our working lives, our cultural expectations, and even the private infrastructure of our homes (successful people have a dryer and multiple cars) is set up to maximize the profit of corporations with almost zero regard for our own long-term wellbeing.

The politicians and the corporations did this to us on purpose. They sold us washers and dryers on the promise that we wouldn't have to spend so much time doing laundry, and then they sold us MORE CLOTHES which means we have to spend a lot of time on laundry anyway. Oh wait, the dryers are actually not that good for the clothes, so they fall apart faster, and oh look! That means we have to buy more clothes! And that means we need bigger washers with fancier settings and now THOSE break faster but you can't repair that part, sorry, it's cheaper to just buy a new machine.

I don't even have a job outside homemaking and I don't even have kids, and still the thought of having to hang everything on a clothesline and then take it down again, instead of just tossing it in the dryer and pulling it out again, is fucking exhausting. I don't have time for that. Also I am not a small human, and I wear a lot of heavy clothes because it's fucking cold here -- I would need a lot of space in my house to do this, because it's definitely not happening outside most of the year in this climate.

Sure, it costs a little money for the electricity (and/or natural gas) to run the dryer, and it costs money to buy the appliance in the first place. But it costs a lot of time and space to use a clothesline, and our country is set up to make it much harder to spend time and energy doing things for myself than to spend money on something that will grow somebody else's profits.

Sometimes the cheapest way to pay is with money.

Ok, so something I've noticed that is utterly baffling to me is that all the Americans I know primarily dry their clothes using a machine called a dryer. I don't even own a dryer. So, I need to know:

[bruhstories]

Bet II

p.1 here

summary: it's your first day as a cat sitter and things are going more than well. but will they stay that way? pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan w/c: 2.2k

a/n: hiii, this is pretty much reader's pov, but don't worry, we'll see things through in-ho's eyes in chapter 3! if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post.

You woke up at five in the morning on the first day of your temporary job. It took you about fifteen minutes to walk to the bus stop, and another fifteen to get to Gangnam-gu by bus, but you needed to prepare breakfast for your uncle first. The last thing you wanted was to anger him. You washed a cup of rice and tossed it in the rice cooker before slicing some pickled radish and a fresh cucumber and carrot. While waiting for the rice to cook, you fried some tofu that you had marinated in gochujang the night before.

Around six you woke your uncle up with the bowl of bibimbap and a cup of freshly brewed coffee, but didn't stay long enough to hear him tell you off about how bad his coffee tasted, or how cold the rice was, all completely false statements. It was just the way your life was since your father passed away and your mother left the country. But you couldn't afford your own place, and you probably wouldn't any time soon, so you took odd jobs to stay away from him and pay his stupid debts.

You made it just in time for Eunjoo's breakfast, stepping through the door at 6:50. There was no cat in sight yet, but the moment you opened the food can, Eunjoo peeked from around the sofa, silently sneaking behind you, apprehensive about rubbing against your leg. She waited next to the water bowl as you scooped the food out and mashed it with the spoon, then bent down to place her plate on the silicone mat on the floor. 

It was only after you got back up that you noticed the mess in Mr. Hwang's penthouse. There were so many dishes in the sink, empty bottles of beer scattered on the dining table, an ashtray full of cigarette butts, takeaway boxes stacked on the countertop, a half-full coffee cup, tissues on the floor. You definitely remembered that his house was clean when you first visited him. Too clean, even, like he suffered from mysophobia. You had a lot to do in that house. And then there was Eunjoo, who, for some reason, refused to eat her breakfast despite sitting patiently next to her ceramic plate, tail curled around her paws.

Panic seeped into your veins as you urged the cat to eat, crouching next to her in hopes that she only needed a little encouragement, but Eunjoo stood her ground. You didn't know what to do, the mess was overwhelming and you frantically paced around the kitchen like a headless hen, not knowing what to do first — wash the dishes, take out the trash, force feed the cat. As though Mr. Hwang could see you, your phone vibrated with a text from him.

Good morning. Sorry about the mess, I had a little gathering last night before my trip. Is everything alright? In-ho 

A little gathering? He had a full-blown party! Maybe it was his birthday, or he had a bachelor party. But the mess wasn't important, Eunjoo was. You quickly saved his number in your contacts list and typed a reply.

Morning! Don't worry about the mess, I'll deal with it later. Eunjoo's not eating, though. Should I take her to the vet? She seems healthy, but I’m worrying.

You waited for his text while sitting on the floor, one hand extended for the cat to sniff it. She did, then went back to her plate, simply looking at you, staring directly into your soul with bright green eyes.

Ding!

Oh, I forgot to mention that she only eats breakfast and dinner when I do. You're going to have to eat something. There's plenty of food in the fridge. 

Well, that changed things. You typically had one meal a day since most of the food back home was eaten by your uncle, and you didn't want to pry into Mr. Hwang's fridge and pantry. Rummaging through your backpack, you found a half-eaten bag of shrimp crackers and shrugged. It was good enough for you if it meant she ate.

"My food." You told Eunjoo while holding the bag, giving it a small shake. "Your food." You pointed at her plate.

As if she could understand your words, Eunjoo turned to her breakfast while you munched on the crackers, nibbling on them slowly to save some for later. God only knew when you could have some more food. When her plate was empty, you twisted the bag of remaining snacks and put it back into your backpack before getting up from the tiled floor. 

"Okay." You told yourself. "First thing's first — scoop the poop."

There were two litter boxes in the penthouse, one in the guest bathroom and one in the en-suite. You checked both without paying much attention to your surroundings, and threw away all the clumps of pee and litter, then turned the TV on to play some music. You started off strong with some upbeat songs, a little rock, a bit of pop. Your father raised you on international music. Queen, in particular, was his favourite band, and so your playlist was full of their songs.

Don't Stop Me Now was perfect for doing the dishes. First, you put away all the dry plates and cutlery before emptying the sink. You didn't even bother trying to turn on the dishwasher, your hands worked better and faster, and with the speed of light, like Freddie Mercury sang, you finished washing all the dishes. Each time you rinsed a plate, you turned the tap off, careful not to waste any water. If there was one good thing about not being rich, it was that you learned to truly care about the environment, and tried your best to fight climate change. But you weren’t perfect. No one was. There were skeletons in your closet.

As the song came to an end, you tackled the takeaway boxes. You found the bin and threw away any leftover bits of food that were inedible, saving the cardboard boxes for recycling, along with the beer bottles. The penthouse was looking better by the minute, and after wiping the table and countertop, vacuuming and mopping the floor, you took your phone out and snapped a picture for Mr. Hwang. 

Kitchen and dining room done!

You pressed send and checked the time — 9:00. Shit, your other job was starting soon. Hastily, you turned the TV off, rinsed Eunjoo's water bowl and filled it with fresh water before checking the automatic feeder. It was still half-full, so you put your shoes on and left with the recyclables and trash bag.

"I'll be back tonight, kitty!"

The bin room was easy to find, and satisfied with the work you did, you went back to Guryong Village, where you taught Ali Abdul and his wife Korean. They couldn't afford to pay you, but when they could, they fed you, and that was all that mattered. It was the only meal you didn't need to share with your uncle, and it was more than enough to keep you going through the day. 

At 12:00 you took two buses to Lotte World, where you worked part-time as a mascot, from one to seven, boiling in the purple bear suit. You didn't mind it when you saw how happy the children were, though. Their smiles and happiness mattered more than how uncomfortable you felt, and on the bright side, it kept you very warm in winter. You had to look for positives, didn't you? Life wouldn't be enjoyable if all you did was focus on the negativity and unfairness of it. And life had been nothing but cruel to you. Yet, you persevered. 

You left the theme park at 7:15 and took the bus back to Gangnam-gu, drenched in sweat. The cold November air made you shiver under the coat as you stepped down the street, making your way to Mr. Hwang's penthouse for the second time that day. Kicking your shoes off, you kept the coat, because the apartment was chilly, and you tried to find the thermostat before feeding Eunjoo. 

Good evening! I hope your trip is going well! It's getting quite cold and I was wondering if I could turn the heating on, more for Eunjoo than for me. 

When there was no reply, you shrugged and opened a can of food, placing the plate on the mat, like you did in the morning, then took out a food container from your bag with leftover chicken karahi from Mrs. Abdul. She was kind enough to give you more, and you took out a plate from Mr. Hwang's kitchen to heat it in the microwave.

Eunjoo ate when you did, as she did in the morning, and you found it interesting that she didn't immediately dig in like your cousin's cat used to do. She had good manners, you thought with a smile. The food warmed you up a bit, and you washed the plate and chopsticks after you were done, but the warmth was soon replaced by a chill running down your spine. You had to start layering up for winter.

Ding!

Good evening, miss. My apologies for not replying quicker, work is hectic. Please turn the heating on and stay the night to make sure Eunjoo is warm.

Oh, that was straightforward. You chuckled at the text, but you couldn't stay the night. Instead, you walked back to the thermostat and searched the brand online to set a timer. You tested it first to make sure it worked, and when it did, you set the heating on every 3 hours. It should be enough for Eunjoo to stay warm. 

I appreciate it, sir, but I can't stay over. My uncle would be upset. I put the timer on and it works, I checked. I'll send you a picture after I scoop the poop and tidy up.

You sent the text and inspected the litter boxes. Eunjoo had the stinkiest poops you had ever sniffed, and as you scooped it out of the box, you couldn't help but talk to her. She was watching you from the corner of the guest bathroom, pupils blown at every movement you made, studying you.

"Girl, this is foul." You laughed, tying up the small bin bag. "Is it even normal for your shit to reek like this?" 

Eunjoo lost interest in you when you were done with her box and ran under the bed in Mr. Hwang's bedroom, while you walked back into the kitchen, dropping the bin bag next to your shoes. You filled a tall glass with water and searched for all the plants in the house, stopping at a small cactus in the living room.

When was the last time you watered the cactus?

Ding!

You got the reply quicker than you expected. It usually took In-ho a few minutes to get back to you, but you read it and laughed.

I don't remember. 

Typical for men to forget, you thought as you watered the plant. 

Ding!

Another text? You took your phone out and read it.

Why would your uncle be upset?

The question soured your mood, and you took a few steps back to sit on the edge of the sofa. It wasn't a subject you liked to talk about. In fact, it was a subject you refused to talk about, but Mr. Hwang had been nothing but kind to you, and you felt like you owed him an explanation. No, you felt compelled to give him an explanation, as though you couldn’t just tell him to mind his business.

He took me in after my dad died. He can be quite strict. It's not that I have to go back home, but if he doesn't have breakfast and a coffee when he wakes up, he'll tell me off.

Okay, so you didn't exactly explain your situation. Mr. Hwang didn't need to know all the details, all the beatings and all the insults, all the money he took from you to pay his debts. But hey, at least you had a roof over your head, right?

You washed Eunjoo's plate and water bowl and left them to dry while sorting out In-ho's laundry — whites with whites, blacks with blacks. There weren’t many colourful clothes, which you thought was normal for a man his age.  You were going to wash them in the morning, but you worked smart and hard, and so you wanted them to be ready for the next day. Loading the machine with the whites, you made sure Eunjoo didn't sneak in it and closed the door, then took a shower in the guest bathroom. 

Just as you promised, you brought your own soap and towel, and let the hot water wash away the dirt and dust accumulated throughout the day. It felt good not having to boil water to wash yourself, and you made a mental note to thank Mr. Hwang somehow when he returned from his trip. Perhaps you could cook him a meal and buy a new toy for Eunjoo, although she didn’t seem very playful, at least not when you were around. Stepping out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, you took a moment to enjoy being able to walk around half-naked with no one to disturb you. 

Thank you for letting me take a shower. Eunjoo is sleeping, the plants have been watered, and I’m ready to go home. Good night, Mr. Hwang!

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @nomugglesallowed @awekbachira @hobiesbrowngf @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair

i hope i didn't miss anyone or tagged the wrong people lmaooo

[sucodelaranja86]

- i'm sorry ( part 1 ) : ★

pairing: hyun-ju cho x reader ☆

summary: waking up in a strange place and being forced to play life or death childhood games was not what you were expecting. What you were expecting even less was to find your girlfriend there. However, her protectiveness comes out in a way she did not mean.

warnings: transphobia, canon violence.

A/N: my first work, please be nice. Requests are open. :)

★ . ★ . ★ . ★

➤ Everyday. Every single hour that passed felt painful. As you walked through the streets, your heart stung like thousands of little glass pieces shattered and made deep cuts inside of it.

You felt dumb, you felt stupid. Seeing couples around the street; kissing, holding hands, taking pictures... It was something you had, but you knew you couldn't get anything more than those simple actions. The feeling reminded you of when you were single, but you had a girlfriend now- an amazing one, that is. So why were you feeling like this, you say?

Your partner, as amazing and flawless as she was (and you reminded her of it every single time), simply couldn't see herself as so. You could kiss her, snuggle her, love her as much as you could, but it wouldn't get past that. She wouldn't allow it.

You were tired, exhausted. All you wanted, all you asked for, your simple wish was for her to see herself as gorgeous as you saw her. Why couldn't you love her in public without her fear of unwanted attention? Why couldn't you give a simple step on your relationship without having to comfort and reassure her for hours over the simple fact that she was, indeed, a real woman?

Both you and her were drowning in debt, but you couldnt shake the painful and dark feeling inside the deepest spots of your heart. So you worked, worked, worked, and worked. Sharing the bills with Hyun-ju, buying food, buying basic home supplies, paying for your faculty... Until you simply couldn't work anymore. If having those surgeries meant that you could finally have a real relationship with her, then so be it. Right?

Your determination was quickly shattered after passing out on the streets and having your wallet and phone stolen. Your worried partner, who came after you on the way to your job after you didn't return home 2 hours later than expected, was relieved that you were unharmed. You got a scolding to rest properly, a warm meal, a prepared shower... Everything was perfect, right?

Except for the fact that you and her just lost 4 months worthy of saving for a damn surgery.

Well, isn't that so great?

"my love, please don't blame yourself. I am not mad at you." her comforting words did nothing to soothe you, and you had a lingering sensation that they only served to make you more feel more anxious.

"i'm sorry, Hyun-ju. I am so sorry- please forgive me."

"Shh. It's alright. I am- i am not mad. I have already said it." her comforting tone that meant to calm and comfort you held an undeniable disappointed tone. You could feel her holding her tears with the knowledge that one of her possible surgeries would undeniably need to wait for an unplanned, extended period of time. And that saddened you even further.

You were the worst.

-

You hold painfully your bruised arm, stumbling across the dark and lone streets. You finally managed to give the final payment of your debt, but they didn't simply let 5 months of delay slide. You were absolutely broke, but you didn't own anyone now.

Anyone but yourself.

What would you say to Hyun-ju once you stepped inside your home? Hey, i lost all our money that we saved for a high step on your transition, but i've managed to clear all my debts!

On the way back home, you were contemplating on what to say or do, when an elegant man approached you. He had a cat-like smirk (that you were sure that held anything but good Intentions), he was dressed in a black suit which didn't possess a single flaw, and had a dark suitcase that matched his entire eerie aura.

As he walked towards you, your path was sealed before you even knew it.

If you could help your girlfriend, anything was worth it. Right?

-

Waking up in a green uniform in a strange place that held multiple people inside a closed dorm was not what you were expecting.

And you know what else you were absolutely not expecting?

"what the hell are you doing here-?!"

Seeing her getting slapped in a big television in front of all the players, and afterwards finding her personally after the first game. What a lovely surprise.

"I- i could be the one asking you this!"

"Didn't you quit all your debts? You shouldn't be-" she was quickly interrupted.

"How do you even know this?!"

"Do you think you can simply hide important things like these from me, and expect me not to know?"

You always hated arguing with her. Mostly because all the time she was right most of the times. She was caring, mature, and all she did was look out for you. But this time, you felt like you needed to get your point across.

"Tell me, and truthfully. Why are you here if you debts are all paid? Are you hiding something from me-" she was, once again, interrupted.

"I just want to help you with your surgeries!"

A ringing and uncomfortable silence was placed between the two of you. You looked down, unable to meet her expression. You couldn't.

"Hyun-ju, i want to-"

"This is none of your business. Step out of my problems like you are my mother. I didn't ask you to come here. I- i never asked you to."

And with that, she left to her bed. Leaving you alone with intruding thoughts and a situation you couldn't resolve on your own.

What could you do?

-

[sieveyourtea]

Born Archivist AU Wrap Up Post

Image ID below the cut. Art by @dcartcorner !

Series Summary:

Agnes Montague was a failure, the ritual poorly planned and even more poorly executed. But for the Ceaseless Watcher and the Avatars who have learned from this mistake--perhaps things could be different...

...Jonathan Sims, John as he prefers, is eleven years old when Mr. Bouchard comes to see him.

A massive thank you to you all. For reading, especially for commenting, and for all the support in getting this over the finish line.

If you're interested in reading or seeing more art, please check out the links below the cut. You do need an Archive account to read!

My ask box is open, I'd love to chat theories, questions, and thoughts anytime! Please don't be shy!

What to Know:

Child of Illumination is a fic series with three primary story arcs that follows John Sims from age eleven to his time as Head Archivist of Magnus Institute after being adopted by Elias Bouchard and Peter Lukas.

All three main arcs are rated T and suitable for those who can enjoy the same sort of content as in the podcasts. CW's are provided on individual chapters.

The Main Story:

Part One: Child of Illumination:

Agnes Montague was a failure, the ritual poorly planned and even more poorly executed. But for the Ceaseless Watcher and the Avatars who have learned from this mistake--perhaps things could be different...

...Jonathan Sims, John as he prefers, is eleven years old when Mr. Bouchard comes to see him.

Image Id at the end. Art by @sarcasticscribbles!

Part Two: Shadow in the Hunting Grounds

Agnes Montague was a failure, the ritual poorly planned and even more poorly executed. But for the Ceaseless Watcher and the Avatars who have learned from this mistake--perhaps things could be different.

Jonathan Sims, John as he prefers, has lived with fathers for six years. Like for a lot of other young people, University presents a time for self-exploration, and a first occasion of being out on his own without someone...Watching quite so closely.

Image ID at the end. Art by @sarcasticscribbles!

Part Three: Blood of the Covenant

Agnes Montague was a failure, the ritual poorly planned and even more poorly executed. But for the Ceaseless Watcher and the Avatars who have learned from this mistake--perhaps things could be different.

Jonathan Sims, John as he prefers, has spent three years working as a Lead Researcher at the Magnus Institute. For someone for whom home has had a less than solid definition, the Institute offers a chance for safe place for John to finally answer the questions that have followed him for as long as he can recall.

Being able to work alongside his father is simply an added bonus, of course.

Image ID at the end. Art by @sarcasticscribbles!

Art:

COI wouldn't be what it is without the amazing artists who have brought it to life!

Official Scene and Summary art is by @dcartcorner who does exceptional work across the board.

Official Covers for all three main stories are by @sarcasticscribbles who's art is one of the reasons I started to engaged in fandom at all!

Official additional art of some choice scenes as done beautiful by @mxwhore who I cant thank enough for their amazing work!

Other creators who have made art related to COI include @obscuravoid, @the-awful-dread-that-leaves, @novae-viking, @basilikum7, @hemi-demi, and @moominmammaonhero1n!

Please, go and show them some love! I will post an Art-chive into the series on A03 as well to link back directly to all of the amazing work that's been made! If you've made something and don't see your name here, please let me know!

Additional Content:

Part of the fun of the series are the additional side fics. They cover a range of topics from John's interactions with various people, time spent with Peter and Elias, and the horror content that makes TMA what it is. There are all flavors, from G to E, and all can be found at the hyperlink above.

These are NOT necessary to understand the story and do NOT contain critical plot points. They're simply for fun! .

A special shoutout to @selinko for a lovely set of memes that absolutely made my day and continue to do so!

FAQ's:

The following are just some things that have come into my inbox the last couple of days in particular!

Can I make fanart of this story?

Sure! Please tag me, I'd love to see and spread the love!

Can I make other fanworks of this story?

Sure! Same as above, please tag me. I'd love to see and spread the love!

Will you be writing more?

I may do additional side pieces, but the main story is happily done. I have a total of 105 fanfics, 104 of which are Magnus if you're interested!

Can I send you questions/thoughts/songs/things that made me think about the story?

Yes, my ask box is open and there is an anonymous option. I will delete rude asks, but otherwise am happy to answer. Any spoilers, I'll put below a bar.

Image IDs:

Cover Art: A painting showing John Sims at the center, playing chess with an unknown opponent. On either side above him are Elias Bouchard, surrounded by books, and Peter Lukas, holding a stack of playing cards. Together, they hold a crown of gold and green eyes over John's head, framed by a spider-web window. At John's feet are three animals--a lion, a cobra, and penguin, looking up from a base of fire that shows Agnes Montague, Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood, and Sasha James respectively. 

First Cover: Cover Art of John giving a statement to Gertrude the portrait. He is 11-13 years old, wearing square glasses and talking to her as if she is an old friend.  

Second Cover: A family style portrait of Elias Bouchard (aged around 40), John Sims (aged seventeen to eighteen), and Peter Lukas (aged around 50) years old. 

Third Cover: John Sims and Peter Lukas are playing a round of cards. John is debating whether or not to be on this hand with chin resting in his hand. Peter is holding a 2 of diamonds and a 7 of clubs, considered the worst draw in Texas Hold 'Em. Elias Bouchard, with a faint green light around his eyes, watches from behind John's shoulder, the whole viewed over by a Portrait of Jonah Magnus with the same faint green light. 

Thank You!

Thank you all again for letting me share this story and journey with you. After one year and nineteen days of writing, I am very happy and rather proud to say the series is complete. It's my longest fanworks project by a mile and wouldn't have been possible without all of your lovely support.

With all the love in the world, Sieve signing off.

[allaboutirony]

i worked in a pet store that sold raw milk from a local farm. in my state it's illegal to sell raw milk for human consumption, period. but it's not illegal to eat dog food. people would come in and buy the milk and they wouldn't even have pets. we had to be really careful when people asked about it, since it was illegal. sometimes we'd essentially have to cover our ears and go "lalalala can't hear you!" if a customer started talking about it

we threw out gallons upon gallons of it every week because it goes bad so fast and we never sold enough of it. we'd be dumping out giant gallon jars of spoiled raw milk down our dogwash tub every week. the owners only fed their unvaxxed kids raw milk and wondered why they were sick all the time.

their belief is that pasteurization, like other forms of cooking, destroy nutrients. which is true! it's part of the reason why most milk is "fortified," to put some of it back in (and to make up for american diets having a lack of naturally occurring vitamins in the first place) but generally, it doesn't do as much harm as they claim. cooking anything 'burns off' nutrients but not enough to risk getting sick, which is what you're trying to counteract with the nutrients anyway

honestly, if it's about the taste, people should just add some cream back into their milk. and buy from local small farms. they're still pasteurizing but it will taste better.

also, of note: feeding raw milk to pets is preferred. they cannot drink pasteurized milk, but raw fermented goats milk can be a great additive

The raw milk people don’t even know what raw milk is

[ccccatttta]

this is a random thought bc i got angsty, so!

walburga, who —in a mad attempt to stop regulus from becoming like sirius after he runs away from home—, obliviates regulus.

not completely, of course, but he makes him believe that he never had a brother in the first place. regulus is now the sole black heir and that's everything he knows; i don't put it past her to erase most of the abuse she caused, but still left enough to make him scared to disobey her.

and, like, it takes everyone too long to realize it.

first, sirius is not surprised his brother doesn't look at him anymore and pretty much pretends he doesn't exist, their bond has been severed completely to him, even if it hurts. and, well, he sort of wanted to get rid of his last name completely, so he pretty much asked everyone to not call him 'sirius black' ever again. so, how could regulus suspect anything.

then, everyone in slytherin knows not to talk about sirius in front of regulus (because he used to jinx them almost to death for that), and, sirius was officially disowned by the black family, so they do speak about regulus as the sole heir, as if sirius wasn't ever in the picture.

it's maybe pandora who finds out first.

barty and evan aren't sirius' biggest fans, and they don't like to confront regulus about how he feels, unless he's the one who wants to vent. they think that his way of coping is pretending like nothing happened, and while that's not healthy at all, regulus looks fine, super fine, even. so why would they want to interrupt his peace.

dorcas has been distancing a bit from them, because of the whole voldemort situation. she's no longer with them enough to realize regulus has been acting strange.

and pandora was a bit like evan and barty, at first. especially because, she knows regulus doesn't keep anything that's really hurting him for long. not to them. they just like to give him enough space to process and cool down. they let him come to them, and they will be waiting.

but then, regulus doesn't.

so, after a while she decides to ask him about sirius.

when regulus just answers "who's sirius?" with the most genuine and confused face on earth. she knows exactly what has happened.

i haven't thought further into it, maybe evan, barty and dora argue about what to do. the right thing would be to help him get back his memories. but regulus looks so much better without the heartbreak sirius has been unintentionally causing him since first year. and sirius seems to love his new life as the potter's ward. maybe that's the right thing.

but also, they know that, even with all the pain that he has caused him, regulus loves his brother more than anything and wouldn't want to just be forced to forget about him.

yeah. that was my random thought of the night. toodles!

[rqyup]

out of place | xavier & sylus ver.

pairing.. sylus x reader, xavier x reader

cw.. angst to fluff

a/n.. sorry for the long break.. 😓🙏 masterlist | request

ꜱʏʟᴜꜱ

You always felt out of place as Sylus's plus one at events. Despite the countless reassurances he gave, the discomfort never quite left. It wasn't about your looks—well, not entirely. It was about the way people carried themselves, as if they belonged here. You? You were just dragged along. While others seemed to thrive in the flashing lights and loud chatter, you longed for the calm of Linkon, somewhere quiet.

Sylus’s hand rested on your waist as he chatted with one of his acquaintances, the usual routine. It had been going on for hours, and you were starting to feel drained.

Noticing your discomfort, Sylus leaned closer, his teasing smile evident. "Hanging in there, sweetie?" He whispered as his acquaintance left the picture.

You sighed. "I'd rather be asleep right now.

"You know we can leave whenever you want, right?" He pulled you closer, his smirk deepening.

"Yeah… but I don’t want to ruin the fun," you mumbled, glancing around at the lively crowd.

Sylus raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't want my love to be uncomfortable. This party was for us, after all. You can do whatever you want, and I’ll oblige. I’m at your service, sweetie."

"Well.. I'm craving some cuddles and kisses right now. And maybe some dates in Linkon.." You cheekily replied.

In which Sylus replied with "Such a spoiled kitten, hm?"

You couldn’t help but smile. Yep, you really did have good taste in men.

xᴀᴠɪᴇʀ

Ah, yes—the perfect boyfriend, or so the Hunters in the association liked to say. You never understood why Xavier saw anything special in you. After all, you were just another Hunter, right? You were proud of your strength, but you were so much lower in rank compared to him.

The nagging feeling of inferiority was always there. The way others looked at you with barely concealed judgment made your insecurities flare. Seriously? A low-ranked Hunter…? He can do better than that.

It gnawed at you, especially as Xavier slept peacefully on your lap. He was perfect in every way—how could you be enough for him? You believed he deserved someone better, someone stronger, someone who could keep up without faltering in the first round .

Xavier groaned and stirred, breaking your thoughts. "Love… how long has it been?"

"Four hours," you chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. Your sleepy, cute boyfriend.

He blinked up at you, his voice laced with curiosity. "Don't you ever get tired of me asking you to train me?"

"Well, it's a bit of work, but I don't mind," he replied, still sleepy.

"Even when I last, like, thirty seconds at most?" You chuckled softly, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

"It's the thought that counts," he said, his voice softening. "I like spending time with you. Honestly, I'm glad you'd rather train with me than hang out with your friends."

His possesiveness was so evident on his face, you knew he had always been a jealous man, but every time he showed that side of his—you still can't help but laugh.

You paused, relishing the surge of feelings his words alone gave you. "Are you sure..?"

Xavier smiled, his gaze turning tender. "I'm sure."

Before you could respond, he leaned up to kiss you on the cheek, leaving you feeling lighter than you had all day.

rqyup © 2024 – do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my content; dividers by me; likes and reblogs are appreciated !

[marikosfragrance]

BLUE LOCK X READER

"Can he pass the "Orange peel" test?"

Characters : Isagi Yoichi, Itoshi Sae, Karasu Tabito, Bachira Meguru

Content : A scenario in which you ask them for an orange and ask them to peel it for you— seeing how willing they are to do acts of services.

Disclaimer : Some of you readers may be sensitive, so prepare yourself for things you might not expect like harshness in some characters

SET : I set the scenario where you and the (character) have dated for 2 years, but kaiser is not healed. Sae might come off as cold, rin might seem detached or some other traits that you might deem as a red flag. So read at your own accord, taking this warning into consideration. I won't add a description of what type of personality reader is for everyone to feel welcome.

Note : I am glad ya'll enjoyed the previous scenarios, now let us explore more. Take it into consideration that when you guys send me requests or asks, you can freely set the setting to however you'd like, if you'd like it if it is set into a time where kaiser is healed, or sae and rin have opened up, which might take ages if done slowly. Or when isagi haven't met you so he isn't in love with you, and so on and so forth with other characters. Now enjoy.

Isagi Yoichi - he would

I am sure it doesn't come off as much of a surprise if someone like Isagi would do this act of affection. For him, it might even be natural— his way of showcasing how much he cares for you. If this was set at a time where you just started dating, he would feel flustered and might even mess up a bit, but for Isagi, this act would be a symbolism of how he is willing to do anything to minimize your workload as well as please you.

Yoy two are spending some time on the couch, intitially planning to watch tv, and not let any interruptions occur. However, you had a different plan in mind. Isagi was invested in the movie and glances at you from time to time to check your reactions. Until you asked for an orange, which draws his eyes to you— away from the tv now. You repeated your request as it sinks into his mind. He chuckles lightly— an apology exiting his mouth, from how he didnt hear you the first time.

You asked for an orange and he wouldn't even question it, just thinking you might be tired as he makes his way to the kitchen. After grabbing an orange, he walks towards you then stretches his hand out to give it to you, you didn't reach out for it and instead asked him to peel it. Isagi might feel confused at first but would happily do it, seeing this as a sign of affection rather than a workload.

(Isagi's part is short, because he does it no hesitation and no complaints)

Itoshi Sae - he would begrudgingly do it

The fact that you were able to handle him for 2 years, much less get into a relationship means he can see you in his future, or you managed to really convince him that you won't get in the way of his plans and goals. Which is amazing in its own way— since it might've took you years to get him convinced. So you might already be aware that he won't give in to such pointless acts of affection. But you tried it anyway, since he isn't really always present, so why not make the most of it?

You two were just sitting on his couch. Yes— his couch. You never brought up the idea of living together since Sae seems to really like his space. And even if he secretly wanted to, you can't see him telling you about it or bringing up the idea. You are watching TV, eyes darting to whatever he is working on— eyes meeting some soccer data stuff on his laptop which is rested on his lap. You waited for a while, and there he goes. Sae places his laptop on the center table as his body relaxes, leaning more on the back of the couch— looking at whatever you were watching.

You called out his name, followed by your requests— an orange. You can see him squinting his eyes a little at your odd request, since normally you would get it yourself, but with a sigh, he stands up and heads to the kitchen. He grabs an orange and goes back to you sitting on the couch, looking at him with anticipating eyes— the upcoming second request reluctantly but successfully leaving your mouth. "Can you peel it for me?" You ask.

"Why can't you peel it yourself?" Sae questions you. Despite him intentionally trying to not sound mean, he genuinely wants to know why— his question coming from a place of pure confusion rather than a harsh reply. You might just sigh to yourself, feeling upset and grab the orange to peel it yourself till he raises his hand— keeping you from taking the orange away. And with a big sigh, he decides to sit down and peel it. But the situation is confusing for him; why couldn't you peel it yourself? He questions himself. In the end, he peels it but instead of it coming from a place of care, his decision to peel it comes from a place of "obligation". He felt the need to peel it, since he sees it as something he "needs" to do rather than "want" to do.

(It would be a surprise that he would peel his orange for you. If he never was your boyfriend, he wouldn't see the need to do it, nor the care)

Karasu Tabito - he would

For Karasu, doing something as peeling an orange might be a natural thing for him, he sees it both as something he needs and also wants to do. How he would do stuff for his partner is a sign of genuine care and affection, rather than pure obligation.

The room was quite dark. The curtains closed— the only source of light is emitted from the tv. Both you and Karasu are having a movie night, and the atmosphere was peaceful and quiet. You didn't want bother him with this, but you wanted to try it out on him; though you have a rough idea of how he might respond.

You asked for an orange, and he looks at you with his eyebrows raised, and no question— he stands up and goes to the kitchen to grab one for you. You looked at him with a smile, perhaps already knowing this is how he'd respond. And he sits back on the couch, handing it to you. He notices your silence, and has an idea on what would come next. And thus, he pulled back his outstretched hand, already peeling the orange before you could open your mouth and ask which surprised you. After he peeled it, he gave it to you as if it was the most normal thing to do, and at that moment you are reminded of why you chose to be with him— eating the orange with a small smile.

(I feel like if you really mattered to him so much, he would literally read your mind. He is smart after all, he can read body languages)

Bachira Meguru - he would be more than happy to

For Bachira, this act of peeling an orange for someone is a natural act of love. He would see it as a natural thing to do and he'd do it, no complaints. If he hands you the orange, he might even ask you if you want him to peel it, wanting to please you with acts of services.

You could be spending some time together in the living room, watching a movie. Bachira would feel more excited about spending time with you rather than the Movie. Might even let you pick the movie, and if you want him to watch something in particular, he would watch and comment on each scenes, would gladly let you talk too and explain to him about stuff regarding the movie. He would switch from looking at the movie, then to you, then the movie then to you, having fun with the feeling of watching something with another person, which is quite different to what he is usually used to.

Now if you asked him for an orange, he would no doubt say "okay!" And immediately do your request. He wouldn't see it as something to complain about, but rather it is something that he wants to do for you since to him, you are special. It wouldn't take long for the orange to arrive, and he gives it to you, and to your surprise, he would even ask to peel it for you.

It makes you smile how you don't need to voice out your needs since he already does the things you want him to do without needing you to voice it out.

( I see Bachira as one of those types that will feel the need to make themselves feel needed by their partner in some way, especially if he views his partner as someone he doesn't deserve, or a person that cures him of his loneliness)

__________________________________

Hope everyone enjoys this scenario! Had fun making it, but had a hard time a little bit from portraying their characters while still staying true to their personalities.

[gyaruhana]

I beg for more fic of Nam-gyu (player 124) specifically yandere and smut idk it fits him

Nam-gyu/Player 124 - Yandere headcannons nsfw

Synopsis: Yandere Nam-gyu headcannons !!

A/N: this may be quite dark I'm ngl so tread with caution..

Warning: smut content, yandere themes, drugging, manipulation, noncon

NSFW:

➠ nothing sane about this man especially since he's high 90% of the time.. ➠ From the moment he saw you, he immediately claimed you as his ➠ very very touchy !! always has a hand on your thigh or around your waist blah blah blah ➠ likely laces your drink if you met at a club ➠ not to kidnap you (yet) but just to take you to his place ➠ The moment you're drugged out and all your words are slurred, he's speaking to you with a baby voice ➠ He'll say he'll drive you to his house and you can't even say no bc ur too out of it to realize what's going on ➠ does absolutely fuck you the moment he gets home ➠ groans and starts praising about how you're soo good for him and you always will be ➠ the day after you have a pounding headache and don't even remember what happened so he acts all innocent before sending you home ➠ Bad idea letting him drive you home because now he knows where you live ➠ he'll start driving by your place a lot more often and you find yourself bumping into him constantly ➠ The moment you become good enough friends and invite him over to your house- his behavior escalates ➠ sneakily places cameras in your bathroom so, when he gets home, he'll have something to jerk off to that night ➠ if he's feeling bold enough (high enough), he'll steal your underwear ➠ He does take his time with you at first and do his freaky shit in private but, after seeing a guy make a move on you, he drops the act ➠ he just stalks you to a quiet place after you finish work and then knocks you out ➠ Ties you up to his bed and sits there till you wake up with a smirk ➠ Gets straight to the point and admits he just wants you for himself ➠ probably gets turned on by your fear and jerks off in front of you as you cry ➠ fucks you every single day it's insane the stamina this man has ➠ sometimes he does panic though when he's not high and realizes that he's literally kidnapped a girl and made her life a living nightmare ➠ his response is to just to get more high ➠ if you ever tried to escape, he'd highkey get so nervous when he didn't see you tied to his bed ➠ the fear was presented with anger so, when he found you, he was VERY rough ➠ made a decision to try get you pregnant so you wouldn't leave because he knew you'd be too afraid to raise a child alone ➠ developed a breeding kink because of that ➠ He does have a choking too i feel like that's worth mentioning !! ➠ Overall, he's high as fuck all the time so he never plays nice ➠ Do expect to be trapped with him forever and ever..

"Fucking cunt. Did you really try to leave me?" he spoke with a hand around your throat as he pinned you to the wall. He was not happy at your attempt to leave him here. He needed you to stay. He wasn't in love, no - he knew that. Yet he was absolutely obsessed with the way you smelled and tasted. That's why he couldn't let you go and also why he had to punish you for trying. "I guess i'll have to teach you a lesson and breed your fucking pussy,"

[thisonehere]

Under the Mistletoe

Mk kharacters x GN reader

Summary: Johnny's hosting a holiday party and you find yourself under the mistletoe with a kombatant.

A/n: Happy New Years!!! It's been a good little minute since I've done any headkanons. I know I haven't been posting much lately, I'm sorry about that a lot's been going on these last few months. This year I plan on being way more productive with my writing.

C/w: Heat, Slight smut, sloppy kissing, tongue, mentions of blood, violence and bruises

Bi-Han

He wasn't originally supposed to be here.

Johnny didn't want to invite him, considering all the recent drama (and because he still owed Johnny for the vase), but you insisted. You felt bad because the alternative was him spending the holidays alone.

You all thought Bi-Han wouldn't show up, Bi-Han wasn't a fan of the holidays, neither was he really the funnest at parties.

You were all surprised when Bi-Han did come. It was all so awkward. There was a lot of tension in the air, many fearing that at any given second, Bi-Han would explode and ruin everything.

But it didn't happen, the entire night Bi-Han stayed in a corner of the room. No one dared to go near him, not even his own brother, so he stayed there alone. He stayed there with his arms crossed leaning against the wall with a scowl in his face.

You felt your heart ache for him.

After building up courage, you walk up to him. He gives you a cold glare, but there was something oddly welcoming in his eyes.

"What do you want?" He grumbles as he gets off the walls and stands upright.

You quickly attempt to make small talk, he eyes you up and down as you try to talk to him. He still has a frown on his face but he doesn't shoo you away or giving you the feeling that he wants to be alone.

The remainder of the evening you try to create. Conversation, and Bi-Han gives you a decent response.

In truth, Bi-Han is grateful for you trying to talk to him. One of the worst parts of parties and events is that he often times end up alone, though he refuses to let anyone know that.

The holidays have always been a lonely time for him. He hated the holidays but his brothers always manage to make him enjoy just a little. But now s rift has grown between him and his brothers making it even harder to find anything to happen during this season.

You're the reason he came here in the first place. He refused to come at first, but then he learned that you personally asked Johnny to invite him, that you wanted him here.

You continue to talk, the conversation gets better. But you notice something hanging above both of you. Mistletoe. Johnny had hanged it all over the place in hopes of catching Kitana under it.

Hot red blush burns your face as you suddenly become shy. You fail to look Bi-Han in the eyes and struggle to speak. "What is it?" He sharply asks. Then he sees the mistletoe. Everything goes still and quiet as he just glares at it.

"I- it's just a dumb tradition." Your face felt like it was on fire with how hard you were blushing. "We don't have to do it." You can't anymore world's to say, your eyes are now glued to the floor.

Bi-Han glared at you, an unimpressed look in his eyes. "Pathetic." You hear him mumble as he places a hand onto your chin and forces you to look at him. "Cowardice disgust me."

He then grabs the back of your head and forcefully kisses you. His lips crash against you as his other arm wraps itself around your body

He holds you close as he kisses you, he isn't usually a romantic man, but tonight, for you, he'll make an exception.

His lips weren't as rough as you anticipated they'd be, they were surprisingly soft and warm, everything about him is soft and warm. You find your arms slowly return to his embrace as he kisses you with an unexpected passion. You mind goes numb for a second as you can't fathom that this is happening.

Finally, Bi-Han releases you. You gasp as you catch your breath and regain your composer. You pant, you stable to keep you balanced. And all the while Bi-Han resumes his harsh stare and he fixes with his cold eyes.

He continues the conversation you were having like nothing happened, you try to continue it too. But the kiss is permanently at the for front of your mind.

It's getting later in the night and the party is now whining down. All you can think about is Bi-Han's warmth, his rough lips that were soft at the same time. The way his strong arms held you gave you chills to just think about it.

Later on, you both were seen leaving the party together.

Tomas

At the prospect of being invited to a party, especially a party at Cage mansion with the Johnny Cage, Tomas was over the moon.

He was especially eager to go when he heard you'd be there. He has always had a crush on you, but he was too nervous to do anything. Maybe tonight will be different...

So you made the decision to take him home with you.

Tomas isn't one for social interactions, unless it's leading and instructing warriors or playing a part, he is quite awkward. But tonight, he was willing to try.

During the party, he does his best to be as social as possible. Sometimes he does well, other times her devolves into going on a long rant about one of his many hyperfixations.

But throughout the entire night, he has kept his eye on one thing: you. He has desperately been looking for you everywhere. Sometimes he finds you, but you're too busy or too far away for him to get to. Other times he can't find you anywhere, he asks around and he is often led onto a wild goose chase.

When the night goes on, things get darker and darker outside. Guests were already beginning to leave, and he hasn't had a chance to speak to you.

Much to his disappointment, he and Kuai were beginning to leave. He feels heartbroken, he was so excited to speak to you, he didn't know what about, but just being able to speak to you would be enough for him.

He and Kuai were walking out of the door. But then Tomas sees something at the corner of his eye.

Tomas sees an opportunity, and he bolts towards. Much to Kuai's confusion.

"Y/N!" He shouts as he quickly approaches you. You eagerly stop what you're doing totuen to face him as he steadily approaches.

As he gets to you, he accidentally slams into you and knocks you over.

Tomas grabs you by the waist, quickly catching you before you hit the ground, apologizing purfusely.

But you don't seem to mind, you actually laugh and joke about it. That doesn't stop Tomas for feeling terrible, he places a hand on the back of your head, cradling it and ensuring that it's secure, and places another hand on your lower back. He tenderly looks at you, causing you to feel a sudden load of butterflies awaken in your stomach.

Your eyes fall onto the ceiling and you what's above your head: Mistletoe.

You stare at it, wheels in your head turn as you realize what it is. Tomas, noticing you staring at something, looks up and see it too.

You both are frozen for a second as you share sheepish glances at each other, both of you too shy to say anything. Yet you give him an encouraging look.

He goes in and kisses. He over thought it every second. Should he skip some tongue in? Would you like that? Is he going kissing you too hard? Will he soft enough for you?

Both your minds went numb as you lips touch, it all feels strangely magical as the world goes silent. You become more aware of the way he holds you, so much care, so much love.

He helps you back to your feet, but your head felt awfully light from that kiss.

"Um, maybe we should go somewhere private." He says, his own face flushed. "I think we have a lot to talk about."

Kuai

As the Grandmaster of a very new and very fragile clan meant to protect Earthrealm, Kuai aoiang as little interest in parties. So he refuses to go at first, but Tomas and Harumi insist on him going.

He is firm at first on his position on not going, but they all eventually wear him down. He begrudgingly relents and agrees to go.

He is a natural when it comes to social settings. He has a cool and charismatic way about him that makes him a very chill person to be around.

He wasn't a very outgoing person though, not really a social butterfly. He kept to just Tomas and Harumi for most of the night.

One of Kuai's problems is that he is often too mild, but to him he was just right. Tomas and Harumi encouraged Kuai to let loose a little tonight.

So that's what he tried, he began being more outgoing talking to more people, even dancing a little. It felt pretty fun, but he preferred to be in a calmer setting, making having some form of a deep conversation.

He found that in you. He came across you while he was coming off the dancefloor, many cheering him as he left.

"Y/n!?!?" He was taken aback when he saw you, you were so beautiful tonight. "You look... exquisite." He sighs. You were always so radiant to him in just the simple things you do. So many times he found himself going mad at how magnificent you were, tonight you were just the same if not more.

You always loved Kuai, he was amazing in your eyes. He was gentle and sweet, so you didn't hesitate when he came to you hoping to talk.

You found a much more calmer part of the mansion to talk. A nice room with a leather couch, possibly the library, but the place was do overly decorated that you couldn't tell.

Kuai talked about the Shirai Ryu and how well it was coming along. He is especially about the one Shirai Ryu in particular, Hanzo Hasashi. He beamed with pride when talking about him, as he and Hanzo were at one point good friends.

He looked so cute as he talked about how proud he was of everyone in the clan, how humbling it was being a grandmaster and having to deal with such a big responsibility.

Eventually, the conversation got a little more casual when you talked about what you were going to do for the rest of the holidays. Kuai seemed especially interested on whether are not you'd be spending them with someone.

Before you could answer, you lay back in your chair, you notice for the first time something hovering over your head, mistletoe.

Butterflies begin swarm around in your stomach as you fix your eyes into the decoration, making sure your weren't mistaken.

Kuai looks up too, he seems less surprised by the mistletoe. He stilled seemed calm, you caught his brow arch and lips curl a little.

"Well," he sets gets closer to you "It is tradition to kiss." You rub your face hoping that the blush might come off. "And who am I to go against tradition?"

He pulls you close, sits you onto his lap. "Y/n," He says softly, almost a whisper. "Will you do me the honor of letting me kissing you?"

Did he even need to ask? He pulled you in and kissed you, his kiss was like fire. His hand rub your thigh, slowly making it's way to the inside of your thigh.

He even was so brave to the point of slipping his tongue into your mouth. You moan as he continues to kiss you with passion.

He lays your down onto your back on the couch. He climbs on top of you and continues to kiss you. He pulls back to undo his shirt, you help him unbutton it as things began to feel a tough hotter in the room.

"Well, it's a good thing we chose someplace private." He said as he threw his shirt off. "I suppose we'll be here for a good while."

Geras

He met you while he was moving through the dance floor trying to get back to Tomas and Harumi, who were busy talking to Liu Kang.

You are instantly attracted to him, you admire him from afar. You find your way to him later on in the night. Though he was kind of stiff

As the overseer of the timeline, Geras spends his days monitoring the hourglass and ensuring all went according to Liu Kang's plans.

He never celebrates the holidays, he never saw a reason too. He had no one else around to celebrate it with.

But he can't deny that he has a curiosity on what it would be like to have someone to enjoy these traditions with.

So when Johnny invited Geras to this holiday party, Geras accepts.

He hopes to go know what it's like to partake in such festivities with humans.

Though, he isn't the best at socializing. For the first part of the night he decides it would be festive to give people cryptic warnings and clues about their futures. One guy he just straight up told him that he had an incurable disease and that'd cause him to die an agonizingly slow and excruciatingly painful death.

Geras stayed in the corner for most of the night, unsure on what to do. He just stood there and stared at everyone, it began to creep some people out. It didn't help that he chose the darkest corner which caused his eyes to glow in a very ominous way.

The only person who wasn't scared of him was you. After building up some courage, you invite him over to have some punch with.

Geras has always had a strange fondness for you. You caught his eye as he monitored the timeline. There was a strange

It's very awkward at first, neither of you seem to know how to interact. Both of you come from extremely different walks of life so there isn't a lot to talk about.

He talks about his process of monitoring this and other timelines for potential threats.

Geras is the first to notice it above your heads. The Mistletoe. It's a strange tradition to him. He is familiar with it, a superstitious tradition thought to ensure fertility. It's useless to him, he never planned on having children. Frankly, he isn't sure he even could barely children.

Family, love, passion, things Kronika forbade him. She had created him strictly to enforce her will.

But Liu Kang did recreate him, perhaps things have changed. He can think of someone he'd like to try these things with.

He stares at it while you talk. Confused, you stop talking and look up. You feel yourself blush as you realize what's above you.

You nervously laugh, "It's-uh-it's a Mistletoe. Basically it's-"

"I am aware of what it is, Y/n, I was not created yesterday." He interrupts sternly. You must look like a tomato with how red you are. "It's alright, I didn't mean to be rude."

Then silence between you two, your eyes dart from Geras and to the Mistletoe. Geras just stares blankly at you.

Finally, after taking a deep breath, you get on your tippy toes and gently kiss Geras. taking Geras by surprise.

Gently touches his lips as he processes what just happened. And then you see something you never saw before, Geras blushing.

"...Thank you...Y/n..." He says softly, giving an appreciative smile.

He stays with you for the remainder of the night, he looks at you with a look in his eyes. Like cogs in his brain were working hard to process and understanding new found feelings.

Kitana

When Kitana was invited by Johnny, she was hesitant at first. She once thought his little attempts to woo her were cute at first, but now they were getting annoying.

Also, she didn't care much for the Earthrealm holidays.

But she decided that she'd come by for a little bit, and then return to Outworld to spend the rest of winter with her sister to help with strategizing against Shoa.

And she must admit, she did find the party quite fun. The Christmas tree being so beautifully lit, the holiday cheer in the air as the carolers sang songs outside.

She admired the decoration of the mansion. She bumped into you as she was looking around. She kindly greeted you, asking you to excuse the splotches of blood on her hands.

The Princess has always been very fond of you, you were one of the few Earthrealmers she fairly liked.

But that enjoyment quickly ended.

She seemed fairly excited, she seemed to be enamored by the holidays.

You begin to talk about holiday tradition, you share Earthrealm customs while she shares Outworld holiday traditions.

The conversation quickly transitions to you telling holiday memories from your childhood. Kitana listens intently, enraptured by your every word. But then her attention is taken by something on the ceiling, but you don't notice.

If you paid attention to Kitana's face, it looked like wheels were turning. Then something clicked.

"Y/n?" She gently asks, immediately taking your attention. "I need you to step back a few feet." You stare at her confused, but you comply. A mischievous look on her face.

When you finish backing up, she points for you to look up at the ceiling. You look up and your heart stops as you see it: Mistletoe.

You choke on air. You look back at her, you try to say. She just stares you down with a smirk on her face. She gestures with her hand for you to come closer.

You shuffle forward a little, too nervous to get too close. Kitana grabs you by the collar and pulls you into a kiss. Taking out her fan and folding to stop people from seeing you kiss.

After holding her face against you and kissing you for a few moments, Kitana is nice enough to let you go. She laughs as you stumble about trying to regain you composure.

"It seems these Earthrealm traditions are not as bad as I thought."

Reiko

No nobody knows why he's here, he wasn't invited.

Reiko knew he wasn't invited. General Kitana, Geras, and Liu Kang was walking around here somewhere. If they caught him it would be all over.

So, why is here? Perhaps he just wanted to crash the party and cause problems. That is certainly what he did. He caused quite a ruckus by being loud as possible, he pigged out almost all Christmas convections Johnny spent a fortune, he antagonised many of the guests by insulting them and trying to start fights.

He isn't usually like this, usually he is the loyal underling of General Shao, but he couldn't deny that he was still a little miffed at the Earthrealmers for winning the tournament and humiliating Outworld and the General as well as interfering with the generals plans to liberate Outworld. So his primary mission tonight was to ruin everyone's night.

And he was successful, so successful to the point that Kitana, Liu Kang, and Geras were on his tail. He had successfully avoided them for most of the night, he thought it was funny how they ran this way and that trying to find him, and he eluded them every turn of the way.

He bumped into you as he was dipping out of Kitana's sight.

"Well, hello there." The moment he saw you, he knew you'd be his next victim of the night.

As he thought of the best, most obscene thing he could say to you, you smile at him as you try to be nice. He unloaded a mass of perverted advances towards you in hopes getting a rise out of you.

He definitely would ask 'if it was bubblegum pink' if he knew of the saying. , enough for you to gasp and hide your face in shame as the blush came through.

You were familiar with Shao's wild second in command, but you didn't expect him to be so...charming. You found yourself blushing at his every word. Which isn't what Reiko was expecting usually the things he says would cause women to gasp and slap him in disgust.

But he couldn't deny, he liked seeing you like this, so he continued. Perhaps he could make more of a use of you tonight if he was lucky.

As he continues to spout his perverted advances towards, you look every which way but at him. At one point you look up to the ceiling to avoid his haunting eyes, and that's how you see it. Mistletoe hanging above your heads. You gasp as you see it.

Reiko stops talking and looks up to see what you were gasping at. He sees the strange bundle of flora hanging from the ceiling. He stares at it confused. He looks at you, his eyes demanding answers.

You quickly explain what it is, you stammer as you explain why it was hung up on the ceiling. As you tell him the tradition of kissing someone under the plant for superstition.

You watch as his eyes light up as you tell him. "Is that so?" He slowly walks up and gets closer to you. "Um...yeah, it's just a silly tradition." You say as you continue to avoid his gaze.

Reiko licks his lips as he stares at you. Before you know it, you don't even know how it began, if he initiated it or you, but now Reiko's face was against yours, his lips pressed up against your lips, his tongue exploring the inside of your mouth.

His hands weren't shy as they traveled around your body, feeling and gripping certain parts as he took you in.

You surprised at how hungrily he kissed and gripped at you. It was almost to the point that it felt like he was beginning to take your clothes off.

Whatever he was about to do, you'd never find out, because in an instant Reiko is ripped off you by Kitana. She hadn't given up on finding Reiko all night, him stopping to talk to you, to make out with you, slowed him down long enough for her to catch him.

You are left in a dazed and state as you are left stumbling back. Both from the commotion that Kitana and her guards caused as well as the passionate kiss that left your brain buffering.

Despite being found, Reiko had a smile on his face as he gave a proud laugh. "Well, looks like our date has been cut short...until next time..."

As they drag him away, Kitana sends you an apologetic look as she walks away. No doubt assuming you were a victim her was accosting you.

You are left alone, you can still taste Reiko in your mouth. You are struggling to process all the madness that just occurred in front of you. You fix your clothes and hair and try to enjoy the rest of the night.

Baraka

The holidays aren't easy for Baraka. Tarkat often makes it so hard to live, especially with the fact that it took everything away from him, he struggles to feel any holiday joy.

When Johnny invited him to the party, Baraka had thought the man had gone crazy. Inviting someone infected with Tarkat to an event that could risk hundreds getting infected.

But Johnny insisted everything would be fine, Earthrealmers seem to have much more of an immunity to Tarkat compared to Outworlders.

Baraka would've refused, he should've refused. But so much of his life has been hardships, surely he could spend one night to be happy.

So there he is, he stands at the corner of the room, looking around aimlessly at the thousands of people. Music filled the air as the guess mingled and ate and were merry.

Everyone avoided Baraka, it doesn't matter if they as Earthrealmers had an immunity, they still ostracized him, avoided him, glared at him, whispered and muttered things about him.

Baraka regretted coming here. All he could do was stay in the corner, and watch as they all shot him dirty and concerned looks. He sighed, defeated. He never should have come here.

It felt like Johnny only brought him here to be spectacle to gawk and point.

He was just about to leave, until you walked up to him. You had been finding the courage to talk to him, you saw him standing all alone in and you felt you heart ache form.

Baraka stares you down cautiously as you walk up to him. You smile sweetly as you try to make small talk. Baraka doesn't shoo you away, he seemingly embraces your company.

There isn't much for you to talk about, but you still try, and Baraka appreciates it. He isn't really a talkative person, but for you he tries.

You actually get along quite well, after a few minutes of painful attempts at small talk, you finally find something to talk about.

As you talk, you eyes find their way to the ceiling, and that is how you became aware of the mistletoe hanging above your heads.

You try to stop yourself, but you audibly gasp as you look at it, causing Baraka to look at it as well.

You quickly explain what it is and what people do when they're caught under it. Baraka merely makes dry laughs at this. Not just because of his lack of lips, but the idea of you ever kissing him. Surely, you must've thought him too repulsive to kiss.

But you surprised him. After hesitating a few seconds, you slowly rock forward on the tip of your toes and you plant a soft kiss on Baraka's nose.

Baraka is taken aback by this as you softly pech his mutated nose. He was as you step back and smile at him, and all he can do is look dumbfounded.

Did you do that out of pity? Did you just feel bad for him so you decided to kiss him? Obligation? Was it out of duty to tradition?

Or...did you do it because you...liked?

Be can't help fantasize about the possibility of someone loving in such a way. For now, perhaps he'll give into the fantasy. But he's no fool, this is just for tonight. Because who could possibly actually love a monster like him.

Liu Kang

Bah! How could you ever love a monster like him?

Liu Kang hasn't always been one for parties. He has always preferred to stay at the Wu Shi and meditate in his temple.

But the Fire God decided to humor Johnny and attend the party.

Being the protector of Earthrealm as well as the Titan of time, Liu Kang was the center of attention for much of the night. So many people came to him and started conversations, maybe they ask him questions hoping to pry out some answers for major moments in their lives.

Sometimes an entire entourage would form around him. You were almost knocked down by the crowd of people as they walked past you, you wondered if Liu Kang ever felt overwhelmed by all this attention.

Finally, the crowd about him finally lightened up, giving Liu Kang a chance to slip away. That is how he came across you.

You had avoided him all night. You were always intimidated by that fact that he was the protector of Earthrealm, finding out that he was the Titan of Time as well made you officially too nervous to approach him.

You had always had Liu's eyes though. You had always been special to him. He took great care in crafting everyone's destiny in this new timeline, he especially took great care when crafting your new life.

Something about you was just so captivating about you that Liu Kang couldn't keep you out of his head indefinitely. So when he found out you were here, he decided upon himself that he'd speak to you at least once tonight.

He wasn't going to do anything too personal, just a kind smile and a kind greeting. Perhaps a little small talk and then he'd move on.

You felt your palms get sweaty as he walked up to you. You force a smile into your face as he begins talking. You remind yourself at every second not to freak out, this is just you literal maker and creator of the universe, who's also hot, nothing to worry about.

You make your greetings, you wish him a happy holiday. Liu Kang nods at this, he moves the conversation to how much progress you've made throughout this year. "You have improved so much, considering who you were originally..."

He trails off for a second. "I'm sorry?" You asked perplexed. "I improved from wha-"

"Forgive me, I misspoke." He waves his hand as if he was shooing away a thought. He is quick to move the conversation along, you don't protest, better to keep the conversation light rather than ask questions about your past lives and the place he designer for you in this timeline.

You try to move the conversation along, you talk about what you did for the holidays, who you celebrated with, how you brought in the new year. He seemed very interested in your words like they were so fascinating.

As you speak, you are none the wiser of the mistletoe that hangs above you. Liu Kang knows about it, he saw it as he walked over to you. He would really like to kiss you, but he didn't know how to bring it up.

Finally, much to Liu Kang's joy, you look up and notice it. He warmly smiles as he watches you shrink under the mistletoe, obviously stunned by this. You eyes dart from him to the mistletoe, he gives you an encouraging smile as you calm down.

"I believe you do something when found under this." He gives you a charming smile. "Um, may I?" You feel the warm sensation of his hand as he caresses the side of your face, he lovingly looks into your eyes as he admired your for a second.

His lips are soft, electrifying, you feel your body basically collapse as he continues to caress your lips with his.

Tonight is the night you learned what it was like to be kissed by a god. That was apparent as you failed to collect yourself when he finished. You were so flustered that you couldn't even think straight.

"Have lovely rest of the evening." Liu Kang smiles at you generously, he then walks away. Leaving you to contemplate the fact that you just kissed a creator god.

Johnny Cage

Tonight didn't go as planned for Johnny.

He had hoped to catch Kitana under the mistletoe and have a totally hot make out sess'.

He followed her around for a good part of the night, all the while hoping he'd catch her under one of the many mistakes he hung up across the mansion. It was getting to the point of harassment.

And he did catch her under the Mistletoe, though, he didn't get a kiss. But she was nice enough to give him some sweet chin music as she uppercut him.

She knocks him onto his ass right then and there, also knocking him out. Maybe she hit him a few more times while he was down.

Despite this, many of the partygoers still continue on with the party.

Johnny lies there for some time. You eventually feel bad for him and wakes him up.

You get Johnny to the bathroom and are nice enough to help him clean up the many bruises on his face.

Cage is a drama queen, so he overreacts to the bruises on his face. All he had was a busted lip, a broken nose, a black eye, and a few cuts and gashes all over him, nothing bad at all.

"Well, did we learn anything, Mr. Cage?" You ask as he sits in the tub clutching an ice pack over his eye. You were in his bathroom, you were alcohol onto a cotton ball.

"Okay, maybe a went a little too fa-AH" he flinched as you use the cotton ball. "A little?" You press cool cotton against the red cut on his face. "Okay, Okay, I fucked up and went too far. I should've taken no as an answer and left Kitana alone. Happy?"

"Very." You teasingly coo as you wipe all the blood of his face, you feel a little bit bad for Johnny. He deserves every last but if these injuries, to be sure. But seeing him in pain made you feel bad deep down.

"Ow! Hey, go easy on me!" He hissed in pain as you dabbed the cotton onto another wound. You look at the bloody cotton ball, with a sigh you throw it away.

As you attend to him, you thank Johnny for inviting you and tell him how much you enjoyed the party. You talking about how much you enjoyed the party seemingly puts him in a better mood.

He tries to smile, looking past the busted lip, he still had one of the best smiles you ever seen. His teeth glowed like freshly cut diamonds.

He was such a charming man when he didn't try so hard. You felt yourself melt under his gaze. Cage arched his brow, "Starstruck looks cute in you, Y/n. Say, you want to kiss under the mistletoe?" He tries his best to be smooth

"We're in a bathroom, Cage." You shake yourself out of the daze you were in. Johnny just points to the ceiling. You look up "Really?!?!" You gasp as you see quite a few pieces of mistletoe hanging from the bathroom ceiling. "What can I say, I always come prepared."

You groan as you shake you head. Then you grab him by the collar and kiss him.

Despite the bruises on his lips, Cage still has the best pair of lips you've ever had the privilege to kiss. You felt his hands tangle itself in your hair as Cage returned your hold

It's strange, a random kiss in the bathroom with a beaten up movie star is surprisingly one of the best kisses you ever had.

You pull away and so does Johnny. He has a knowing look in his eyes as he stares you down with grin on his face, as if he expects for you praise him for how good the kiss was.

It was, but you didn't feel like feeding Johnny's ego. "It was alright." You say as you rise out to your feet. "Oh come on!" Johnny insists as you walk away.

It was truly an amazing kiss, but you refused to let him see how flustered he had you as you lean against the wall outside the bathroom to catch your breath and regain his composure, his ego was big enough.

[naamahdarling]

I agree. I've been thinking about this so much, and I'm so frustrated with it, because there's a point at which I have to concede that when it comes to some things, there is no answer that lives up to my ideals.

I also think the rejection of the word "reform" in favor of "abolition" is partly due to how we have seen efforts to "reform" things go absolutely nowhere but to the bank with taxpayer money to cut a fat check to police departments that they use for "training" and body cams that then do fuckall. If that's reform, I want to kill that, too.

I am in favor of making prison as we know it (a locus of abuse and injustice that is in no way oriented towards helping anyone at all, as well as a source of legal slave labor) go away. Forever. So I have asked people the prison abolition questions. I have never gotten an answer beyond "we will support victims and with the measures we want to put into place there will be fewer offenders." Good. Okay. I want that, for sure. You have my full support. I get lost when I run into "That's a distraction." It isn't. I'm not saying we refuse to work on this until every bit of it is hammered out. I'm saying it very much is something we will need to grapple with, and it's actually a major thing because how we handle extreme cases of ANYTHING is THE purest form of principles.

It isn't a gotcha to say "if you do not have a plan for non-lethally dealing with people like Jeffrey Dahmer, because people like that exist and will continue to do so, you do not have a fully realized plan, you have some really good ideas that I already support."

"I don't know, we are working on that, it's an issue, we have a lot of ground to cover before then, and some of that ground will undoubtedly point us at some of those answers" is kind of where I fall, and it is a lot more honest than what I usually get, which is "Well, YOU need to imagine what that looks like, what do YOU think? This is for YOU, and all of us, to come up with. But don't ask about extreme outliers, that just shows you support the status quo and want alternatives to fail."

That isn't an answer that goes anywhere. Because I have thought about it extensively. And my answer is "putting them someplace pleasant that they can't leave, where they can't ever hurt anyone, and caring for them, all the while watching them like a hawk for the rest of their lives, because they simply cannot be allowed what we would call true freedom".

No community I know of is capable of managing someone like that while allowing them to go free, nor should the burden of that risk be placed on any community. I wouldn't consent to having someone like that living in my community, and one dissenting vote should be enough to keep them out, shouldn't it? And if they just cut and run, well. The next community maybe won't even know they're there until they do something that could have been prevented. Whose community in the first place? The one where they offended? Because that's...that's actually not okay. Which one, if there were several?

Outliers exist and have to be considered, because if you don't, you wind up with vigilante justice out of self-defense, or a string of inexcusable, monstrous acts continuing unopposed until the person dies, but the victims, or whoever is left who loved them, at least get "support."

I don't want to say "I support reform" because my god does that ever sound lukewarm at best. But I don't have a plan for the parts of abolition that don't already overlap with reform.

I want a word for "reform" that means "we are incredibly pissed off and we do intend to tear this apart beyond the point of recognition and make something new" but that can't happen in one stroke. At the very least, there are going to be long transitional periods while we restructure shit and get people used to the new ways of doing things.

I don't like all my answers, but I haven't been presented with anything better. I want to be. But some people get really pissed when I genuinely ask them to please show me a better way that I can actually believe in.

The other reason I'm generally annoyed with the "Abolish X" crowd who actually DO mean "abolish X" and not a watered-down version is that ime they very rarely have fully thought out the implications of what they're demanding and then get angry when other people ask about it.

"Family abolition means completely removing legal ties for family units and allowing all children the choice of where they live" okay. So if I see a three-year-old throwing a fit because she doesn't want to leave the park, and I go over and tell her if she comes home with me she can stay as long as she likes and then we'll get McDonald's on the way home, that three-year-old should have the ability to make that decision? The parent or guardian has no legal recourse to stop me from taking her? Cause if the answer's no, that's not abolition, that's reform baby!

"I'm done talking about what we'll do with rapists and murderers after we abolish prisons, it's all anybody ever wants to talk about!" Well yeah man! 98% of people just interpreted your words as "we're going to let murderers roam around killing people at will"! You need to explain very clearly what plans you have that will stop them that aren't incarceration or you're not going to make any headway! And if your answer involves any form of "well of course SOME people can't be allowed total freedom" - that's not abolition, that's reform baby!

I'm not even gonna touch the number of people who think we should abolish the police and replace them with what are essentially roaming squads of vigilantes dispensing "community justice", whatever the fuck that means.

Like these aren't "gotcha" questions, they're legitimate problems you're going to have to contend with. And if you wave away all these questions with "you're just making up ridiculous scenarios" and "we'll think of something to fix that once we destroy the current system", then yeah actually, I DO think you care more about sounding radical than about making any kind of change.

[heartfullofleeches]

I Wanna Shoplift sh*t from W*lmart with You

(Title Inspo - 8 Now by Food House)

Shy Male Yan + G.N "Bad Influence" Reader

Content: Shoplifting, small mention of weed. One slightly suggestive scene if you squint, but mostly SFW.

-

The pungent smell of freshly bleached tile. Children screaming up and down isles, guardians mysteriously void from sight. This store...

Is heaven.

"Whatcha think about this one, Mikey?"

Mischievous laughter is all it takes to drown out the screeches. The aroma of your body wash wafts off you from the close proximity, permeating his nostrils as he squeezes ever so closer to you in that secluded neck of the fashion department - accessories spread across the back wall as far as the eye could see.

"Well?" The light shake of your wrist yanks him back to attention; gems decorating the belt dangling from your grasp clicking against the beaded bracelet your partner in crime had made for you some months prior. It warms his heart to see it on your possession to this day.

"These rhinestones match pretty well with your highlights, don't you agree."

"I... I guess so..." Timid fingers course through the lilac streaks in his hair. You're so thoughtful to point out the little details like that.

"I'd love to buy it for you as an early birthday gift, but I don't get paid till the end of the week."

Micheal would offer to pay for it himself- You wouldn't even have to pay him back since he knows how tight you are on cash between checks. He walked into this store knowing full well of your end goals. The sliver of intimacy was all he needed to keep his wallet in pocket - right next to the handful of candy bars you had already deposited into his jeans.

Riding the high of your petty crimes, your smile falls as heavy footsteps pelt the isle floor. Your voice drops to a hushed whisper as you drag your friend in by his collar.

"Shit. Security guard, five o'clock. Act natural."

Micheal freezes in place- His entire body locks up, beads of sweat trickling from his rigid face. Stiff as a plank of wood, his frail figure melts at the soft stroke of your knuckles against his cheekbones.

"Babe- Stop. We're in public, we can't do that here."

Your hands crawl down to his waist, pulling him in as far as your bodies would physically allow as you slip the tip of the belt through the first loop in his pants. Mikey's grateful for the candy in his pockets as they draw notice away from the other mound in his jeans, swelling as you grip his thigh to hold him still. His eyes wander over his shoulder, further distracting himself from the issue.

The security guard half-heartedly scans the area, locking eyes with Micheal for a flicker of a second. Panicking, his hand slams against the vacant wall behind you, pinning you in place as he leans in - lips inches from your own.

"What can I say? Y-you're impossible to resist."

The guard grimaces, mumbling something beneath his breath as he marches off to another section of the store. Time stills for Michael as he stands over you- Gazing into your eyes, breathing the air you exhale. His eyelids flutter shut, lips tingling from the desire pumping through his bloodstream.

"Aaaaand, done! Good thinking pushing me against this wall, Mikey!"

"Wha?... oh...." Michael lifts his baggy shirt, the belt strapped tightly around his waist.

"Y-yeah, no problem."

"Hey, you still got that dab pen I gave you the other day?"

Of course he does- If he tries hard enough, he can almost taste you on it.

"Yeah... Why?"

"I bought a new cartridge with the money you let me borrow the other night. Let's go back to my place and have a little fun, okay?"

Micheal's certain the type of "fun" you have in mind differences from his own, but the idea of getting high as a kite and reaping the day's spoils is the second best ending to an outing with you.

"There's a shopping cart over there- Hop in, and I'll wheel you outside!"

Grabbing your best friend's hand, the world regains that lustrous tint Michael can only step through when he's by your side. Curling his fingers around yours, he'd let you drag him to the ends of the earth if you so wished.

Prison or the unknown, as long as you were there - he'd follow.

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

I CAN FIX HIM- P.B PARKER

Pairing- Jock! Peter x Nerd! Reader (enemies to lovers)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You and Peter become closer after your successful final project is finished, and you realize perhaps Peter isn't as bad as you've made him out to be. A night out at the bar with him leads to... a date in the near future?

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension, alcohol and drug use

come close, i'll show you heaven/ if you'll be an angel all night / trust me, i can handle me a dangerous man / no really i can …

- i can fix him (no really i can), taylor swift

part one... part two

You could barely see him from the haze that seemed to linger over the crowd of people in the bar, its presence almost suffocating.

But you could hear him.

Even over the steady thud of music and peoples bustling conversations, his laugh rang loud and true in your ears, as if he had been talking about you behind your back.

Your ears seemed to ring as you let your head loll against the cool brick wall, gripping your glass of wine to try and stay cool.

It was stuffy and hot in this cheaply lit, dimmed rundown college bar, and yet it was completely packed- nonetheless.

And yes, you ordered wine at a college bar. You would be damned if you’d be influenced to try some foamy, warm beer- or a gross shot of liquor that would burn the back of your throat like wildfire.

No, you were quite content with your lukewarm glass of red, the same deep red as the lipstick you had boldly applied tonight.

You hoped it functioned as a fluorescent traffic cone in the sea of white shirts and blue jeans- an eyesore to anyone who bothered to glance your way. Your scowl steered everyone in the other direction anyways.

This was not your scene, and you had no plans of blending into it.

A bead of sweat trickled between your breasts, skin seeming dewy and sticky to the touch.

You had to get out here. You were drunk, and hot, and needy.

The longer you stuck by yourself, the more you got in your head about things. Peter had invited you out with some friends to celebrate the praise you received on your presentation, and the good grade that came with it.

Not that you were surprised by any means, you had worked your ass off- and you had worked it off whilst being partners with the most insufferable man alive.

Or so you thought.

Your once conflicting feelings about the man had turned for the worst- and you actually… liked him. Like really, really liked him. And it wasn't just the sex that had sold it.

He was a genuinely funny, charming and smart man. Behind all the jokes and the sass, he had real intelligent ideas.

You hated the fact you liked him.

It was a classic trope, the whole enemies to lovers, the one night stand and then acting like nothing had happened, that no feelings were shared, or had even been felt in the first place.

It was pathetic actually, the way you had let yourself go.

He was the reason you were on the opposite side of the bar. You were afraid if you were near him for too long, you wouldn't be able to stop talking to him- and that wasn't good. Because then he would entrance you, with his charming- boyish grin, and you'd melt into his arms like cotton candy.

Trying to pretend you still hated Parker was impossible though, to anyone who had eyes. You had given up on that act after the presentation- the raised eyebrows and smirks from Peter's friends telling you everything you needed to know.

They knew your little facade of hate was over. The mask had slipped clean off and shattered on the ground, your heart on your sleeve like a lovesick puppy.

You wanted to stay home with your roommates- as none of them would come to this, much preferring a movie night instead. You didn't blame them. You’d be snuggled right alongside them if it wasn't for your little crush, that didn't seem so little anymore.

So here you were, longing for a man you wanted to loathe, on the opposite side of the bar- despite him inviting you. Your head was thudding so loud it felt like a snare drum was directly inside your skull, the endless buzz of people making you woozy.

You gripped your wine glass, shoving past people as polite as you possibly could, making a beeline for the smokers pit. You couldn't take it any longer. It was too much.

The end was in sight, the door just in front of you, so close you could practically feel your fingers brush the crinkled old posters taped all over it.

“Excuse me ma’am- you can’t take that outside.” a man, presumably a worker called to you, and you slipped from his grip, swinging the door open.

“I’m just taking a smoke.” you called, doubting he could hear you over the loud music. The cool night breeze washed over you like a salty ocean wave, and you let out a sigh of relief.

The bouncer eyed you suspiciously as you clenched the wine glass tighter, slipping over to the side of the building, where there was a group of guys huddled, puff like train smoke, a cloud in their wake.

It was too dimly lit to tell who was who. You sighed, pulling a joint and lighter from your purse. You leaned against the brick, perching the joint between your lips, groaning in frustration as you flicked your lighter- nothing but a small spark emerging from it.

“Hey lady, I told you you can’t bring that out here.” that same man yelled, and you just about drunkenly lost your shit.

“Listen man, I’m not gonna steal your four dollar wine glass okay?! I’m just trying to have a joint and a girl cant even get a light!” you stretched, loud enough to alert the group next to you, feeling five sets of eyes on your frame, some shaking with laughter.

The man's face flushed as red as your wine, and you knew you wouldn't be allowed back here again. You couldn't give less of a shit.

“You need help with that?” a familiar voice sounded beside you, making you jump. Peter leaned against the wall next to you, holding a lit lighter to your face, motioning towards your joint.

“Thanks.” you nodded, leaning in and covering it from the wind. You let out a sigh of relief as you inhaled the smoke, the burn in your lungs leaving you fuzzy as you coughed.

“I’ll take care of her man, don’t worry.” he called to the owner, waving him away. His gaze turned back to you, full of charm and sass.

“Well I’ll be damned. Y/L/N smoking a joint? Who would've thought?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I’m drunk and stressed. Big whoop.” you rolled your eyes, taking another inhale.

“I can see that, from the sass you gave the owner. Or maybe thats just normal, I’m not too sure since thats how you always talk to me.” he shrugged.

“Its called flirting, asshole. I was securing a second date at the establishment.”

“Flirting by taking his glasses? I’m not sure I’ve heard of that one before.”

You snorted. “Yeah, I’m in need of souvenirs of this place. Its so beautiful, I just had to take something back with me so I wouldnt forget it.”

He laughed, the sound echoing through the air, interminling with the smoke from your half smoked joint.

“You’re lucky I know him sweetheart. Or you’d never be allowed back tothis beautiful bar.”

You rolled your eyes again, fighting the urge not to let your cheeks heat up. Before you could make a snarky comeback- a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Hey Y/L/N. Funny seeing you here, without your little school girl getup.” Bucky smirked, peering alongside Peter, patting his shoulder.

“Harty har. Its vintage Chanel, I’ll have you know.”

“You look good.” he commented, both him and Peter checking you out, and you couldnt help but scoff.

“You should see whats under the dress.”

Bucky laughed and Peters eyes widened, stuck like a deer in headlights between you and Bucky. “Shes feisty when shes drunk, eh Parker? I like her. Good choice.”

He saluted you, him and the rest of Peters group heading back inside the bar, probably off to get more shitty tasting beers. You glared at him as he walked off before sharply turning your gaze to Peters, eyes narrowed like a hawks.

You were bold when you drank. Too bold.

“If you’re gonna look at me like that, ask me on a date at least.” you said, tossing the butt to the side and taking a sip of wine.

You felt buzzed. You felt as free as a bird. Anything could happen. You could say anything, and forget it ever happened in the morning.

So why not play him up a little?

“Would you like me to ask you on a date? Cause I will.” he stated.

“No.”

“So no, don’t ask you on a date?”

“No.” you replied again, shrugging your shoulders.

“I’m gonna ask you on a date now.”

You raised your eyebrow, pursing your lips. “And what if I say no?”

“Well I hope you don't since I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now, but if you did we’d just pretend it never happened.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. He had wanted to ask you out?

“And what, just do this? Have sex once and then act like we aren't interested when we are?”

“Whose we? You are interested then?”

You silently stared at him, glint in your eye as you took another long, drawn out sip. It was nice to have the upper hand and annoy him for once. Suddenly, this whole dynamic wasn't so bad afterall.

“Not sure yet. I’d have to go on a date to find out.”

“Then go out with me, next Saturday. Please.” His voice turned to begging, eyes pleading at you- as if he wasnt the one who played you like a fucking fiddle, teasing you and getting you so riled up youd have to take breaks just from talking to him so you wouldn't lose your mind and kiss him.

He was staring at you, as if you were worth begging over. Like you were above him.

“Please?”

“Please.”

You smiled, hand reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind his ear, watching as it just fell forward again. Maybe that was too intimate. But he didn't seem to mind.

Encouraged it- actually.

You noticed every little move he made, inching closer and closer towards you- as if your red lips were a magnet.

“Fine. But don't make me wait. Pick me up at 6 o'clock sharp. And I don't like rocks being tossed at my window. A handkerchief wave will do just fine.”

“Just a wave?”

“Just a wave."

[quimichi]

≡;- ꒰ ° Sick fuck... ꒱

TW: NSFW - MDNI, name calling, slight cnc, yeah thats it???

character: Nam-gyu x F!Reader

summary: You pressed 'x' now you'll face the consequences of your actions

word count: 4.724

a/n: look, for some reason, he was my fav, idk why, idk how, its how it is ok???? I can't take myself seriously lol. I rarely write smut, I'm probably HORRIBLE at it, but we need the content for him ok??

Nam-gyu dragged you into the female bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him. You try to free yourself from his grasp, but there's no use. "Hey-! HEY-!! For fucks sake guards-! If you don't do shit, why are you even here-!" you keep yelling as he struggles to shove you into a stall.

He shoved you against the cold wall of the stall, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. Leaning in close, his black eyes flashed with anger and lust as he growled, "Listen up, you little cock-tease. Next time we vote, yeah? You'll press 'O", understood?" His other hand groped and squeezed your breast roughly through your shirt. "Mmm, but maybe this is what you wanted all along, huh? To get me all worked up and desperate for your tight little body?"

He crashed his lips against yours in a brutal, kiss, biting and sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to make it throb. "Strip," he commanded coldly, releasing your wrists only to start tearing your clothes off yourself. "Now! Before I rip them off and fuck you on this filthy floor." With one quick motion, you slap him across his face. "Fuck you-! I don't even fuckinh know you, so what do you want from me?! I pressed 'X', and?! We keep playing the fucking game anyway!" you shout at him. Nam-gyus eyes flashed with rage as you slapped him hard across the face. The sharp sting of your palm against his cheek made him see red. He grabbed your wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting your arm behind your back and shoving you face-first against the grimy bathroom wall. His body pressed firmly against yours, pinning you in place as he leaned down to growl menacingly in your ear.

"Listen here, you fucking slut," he snarled, his hot breath tickling your neck. "I know for a damn fact the longer we play, the more people wanna press fucking 'x'. And I wanna keep going, so after the next round, the next vote, you'll press 'o'. If you don't, I'll make sure I kill you, and not a fucking game." His rough hands immediately found their way to your tits, groping and kneading the soft flesh harshly as he grinded his hardening bulge against your ass.

"I'll fucking ruin you," Nam-gyu hissed venomously, giving your nipple a sharp twist through the thin lace of your bra. "Scream for help and see if anyone gives a shit. They all probably jerk off to ya. Now, are you going to be a good girl and do as you're told, or do I need to get rougher?" "No-!" you stutter out, "you got your point across-!" You're 90% sure you'll die in the games anyway, after seeing the first you knew you wouldn't survive. Better play along now, than suffer even further with whatever he has planned. If you're lucky, he just did all that to scare you off...at least you hoped so. Playing tough wasn't so easy....

Nam-gyus grip on your wrist loosened slightly as he sensed your submission. He kept you pinned against the wall, his hips still pressed firmly to yours as he leaned in close, his voice a low, threatening rumble.

"Damn right I got my point across, baby," he growled, his lips brushing against your ear. "As a reward, we're keeping you save next game, hm? How's that sound?" He slid a hand down to your ass, squeezing the flesh roughly as he grinded his now fully erect cock against your backside. "Now, since you've been a bad girl, I think you deserve to be punished. Lucky you! You'll get both, a reward and a punishment. Aren't I nice?"

Nam-guys other hand slid under the hem of your pants, pulling them down. "Cute, did you know this was my favorite color on you, hm?" he teased, hot breath tickling your ear as he rubbed your clit through the fabric of your panties.

"Sick fuck..." you mumble, more to yourself than for him to actually hear it. Nam-gyu smirked cruelly as he heard your mumbled insult, clearly amused by your feeble attempt at defiance. "Yeah, I'm a sick fuck, but I'm YOUR sick fuck," he taunted, punctuating his words by shoving two thick fingers knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt.

"But you aren't a healthy minded bitch either, look at how wet you are." he chuckled darkly. He pumped his fingers in and out of you roughly, curling them to rub your walls with each thrust. You try to swallow down moans and gasps, but you can't. It feels too good and for some reason...you even enjoy it. He quickly turned you around, shoving your back against the wall. His thumb found your clit and rubbed the sensitive nub hard, making your legs tremble and your pussy clench around his digits.

"Listen to this desperate cunt sucking on my fingers like they're my cock," Nam-gyu laughed mockingly. "You can't get enough, can you? Don't worry, I'm going to give this pussy exactly what it needs."

Having fun never hurt anyone, right? After all, you're a sick fuck too...

[sunnie-angel]

miss july you absolutely killed this fic (and me. i'm dead. deceased. cause of death: julymusings). tbh my only thought about the wound marinating for a half hour was "oh no, the ice cream is gonna melt" and not, you know, the medical side of things. i don't know how but you've captured such a specific anxious meltdown that i could feel myself getting worked up too (this is meant as a compliment). you deserve all the flwoers (and ice cream) for putting out this incredible thing, if it feels like i highlighted half the fic below, no i didn't but i was very tempted.

You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes.

miss july are you in my mind? are you living my life? are we the same person?

Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

there is something so visceral about this passage. i've never been in this exact situation and yet i feel like i have.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

can't defend myself, my brain just went hot here

You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut.

god the frustration is so real and palpable and catty. (honestly miss july, are you in my head bc this is almost exactly what my reaction would be in this scenario)

You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

you know how some people complain about how they can't get into x reader fic bc 'they wouldn't do that'? well i DON'T have that complaint bc this is literally me

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—” “Okay.”

jason trying to be nice and problem solve because he can sense there's a problem but he doesn't know what it is but by trying to be helpful he thinks he can maybe make it better? me. reader not having the emotional bandwidth to deal with his attempts to help and shutting him down before she can implode anymore? also me.

First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined.

real talk, i would be sobbing at this point. i don't care what kind of tricks jason has to get blood out of light coloured fabric, these pyjamas have now been tainted by the moment

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

this!!!!! oh my god when your mind is noticing but you're trying to not notice because then you'll spiral but you're already spiraling so all it does is make you feel guilty but because you're spiraling you don't have the emotions or energy to deal with the full weight of it so you're just back to guilt

You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out.

who hasn't been here before, am i right?

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

reader gets to exhale. it just feels like they've been holding their breath for the first part of the fic but now they can't anymore. this is the exhale, this is catharsis.

You know why.

jason, honey, sugar pie, darling. USE YOUR WORDS. YOUR ACTUAL WORDS

you're good to me, baby

with the roar of the fire my heart rose to its feet, like the ashes of ash i saw rise in the heat. settle soft and as pure as snow, i fell in love with the fire long ago.

or; because the red hood bleeding onto your living room carpet is exactly what you need right now [3.6k]

Jason Todd x fem!reader; based on this lovely ask; ngl this turned into a personal vent jason doesn't show up until 1k words in LMAO; warning there’s blood (duh) and reader is type A and suggested to have heavy anxiety; pre-established relationship where reader doesn’t know his identity + muzzle red hood bc HOT

Compartmentalize. Create baskets in your mind. Analyze the situation, and drop the corresponding emotion in the appropriate basket.

One: You had a fight with your best friend. She called you selfish because you weren’t enthusiastic about her new relationship. She just can’t seem to understand that no matter how happy you want to be for her, it’s painful to see everyone find safety in another person when you can’t. Every attempt at romance is squashed by something or the other that you keep doing wrong. I thought you were hot, your latest dating attempt had said when you ran into him and asked why he never texted back. But you’re kind of a lot. Not something I have the space for right now, you know?

Two: There’s an important presentation today, one that could determine the fate of your position in the company. Your coworker, the one who’s convinced you stole his promotion (he just flirted with the higher-ups while you actually completed the requirements), refuses to let you forget how much is at stake. All it takes is one misstep, one stutter, one hesitation, and he will take it as an excuse to demand your demotion— or worse, termination. You’ve been preparing for this presentation for three weeks. If after all that effort it’s still not good enough, maybe you should be fired.

The emotions here? Frustration. Anger. Exhaustion. Jealousy. Just to name a few. But there’s no time to dwell on anxieties right now, so you shove those thoughts aside. Drop them in their compartments and move on because, after all, if you can strip them down to their bones and find where they stem, you can yank those anxieties from the ground before they have the chance to root. And then there’s no need for unnecessary heartache, right?

(Who cares if the baskets are overflowing, crumpled fragments spilling over the sides like garbage in a landfill? Who cares if the room of your mind is so packed that you’re pressed against the wall and breathing becomes painful.)

The digital clock beside your bed reads 6:12. The numbers blink in and out of the window, their red dots and dashes taunting your heavy eyelids. You still have forty-eight minutes of peace before it will scare you awake. Its beeping will ring so loud and angry that the adrenaline from the startle will power you through your morning routine, and your beating heart won’t dare still to entertain wishes of just five more minutes. 6:13 now. You have forty-seven more minutes of peace, minutes which should be spent sleeping, giving your poor brain a break from itself. But you can’t. Every time you close your eyes and begin to sink below the level of consciousness, your heart pumps a house-special cocktail of cortisol that laces through your bloodstream and convinces you that if you fall asleep you will miss your presentation and you will get fired. The off-grid escape plan formulating in your head switches from hypothetical to tentative when your neighbors, apparently awoken to lust as well as tired by it, start going at it again. You want nothing more than to bang on their door and scream obscenities until they hate each other enough to never touch again, but you resign yourself to consciousness, giving up on the dream of what would now be forty-four more minutes of sleep. 

It’s Friday morning; only one more day to get through before the sweet release of the weekend finds you. (The whole weekend will be spent contemplating the start of a project, feeling like two days is not nearly long enough to complete anything, and dreading Monday until it finds you with nothing done and the same, endless cycle awaiting.)

After completing your morning routine 44 minutes early, you use the spare time to go through your presentation once more, just for good luck, wrapping up the third run-through just in time to hear your alarm to leave for work.

The presentation goes decent, at least well enough to quell any doubts about your ability to do your job. Your coworker ate his words for sure, and you might have enjoyed the look on his face had you not mentally checked out as soon as you finished your closing remarks. Rush hour traffic has the ice cream tub you bought at the convenience store dripping condensation all over the passenger’s seat and your hips hurt from being in the same sitting position for most of the day, but you remind yourself that peace is only a few miles out. Stopped at yet another red light, your grip tightens on the steering wheel. Breathe in. Breathe out. The line of cars starts to move forward.

When you get home, your frustration is close to boiling over. You kick off your shoes right at the door, your keys and bag following close behind.

Far be it from you to break down on the floor in the middle of the room, the plan begins to formulate. There’s a box of tissues on your desk– that can go on the nightstand, along with two of the chilled water bottles you keep in the fridge for after you work out. And you’ll need something for the tissues, right? The small wastebasket from the bathroom should be fine. You drag it over to the side of your bed, sitting in your usual spot to make sure you placed it at a reachable distance. You won’t want to get out of bed to wash your face after this, so a washcloth should go next to the tissues. And an extra one, just to be safe. There’s a half-pint of ice cream left in the freezer, you remember, and store that information for later.

You keep a set of comfortable clothes ready, the nicest, softest pajamas you own that you only wear after an everything shower. This shower, however, is a quick one, not much more than a few minutes under scalding water to comfort you, if nothing else. The light pink pajamas are a high-quality cotton and you feel like you’re in the clouds when you slip into them. Remaining is the ice cream, which you set out on the counter right before your shower so it would thaw just enough to be soft but not melted, With everything in your room ready, you go to retrieve the ice cream but stop with a startle when you round the corner.

“Jesus,” you mumble.

He’s just sitting there, doing nothing except bleeding out on your cream-colored carpet. He’s spread out on the couch like he owns the place, head leaned back against the wall as he lets his injured arm hang over the armrest and drip blood and dirt onto your cream-colored rug. The liquid seeps into the expensive wool, staining it with reddish-brown hues and the scent of iron, and he doesn’t even notice.

“Hey.” The Red Hood lifts his head when he sees you.

On any other day, you’d be quick to action, hauling him up off the couch and sprinting for the first aid kit under the bathroom sink. Today, your arms are too heavy and your gaze remains rooted on the widening splotch of red against white. Your throat feels dry. “You’re getting blood on the carpet.”

He peers over the armrest. “Oh, shit,” he curses, lifting his arm to hover it over his lap. He sounds robotic through his muzzle mask. His hood, pulled down to reveal his thick black hair curling at the ends from humidity and sweat, rests on his back.

I don’t have time for this, is what you want to say. You want to scream it in his face and kick him out for having the audacity to think he can come and go as he pleases, that you’re nothing more than a drive-through emergency room who will drop everything if he gets so much as a paper cut. But you can’t say any of this, and you do want him to come to you whenever he needs help. God knows he won’t go anywhere else.

Holding back your heavy sigh, you wordlessly walk to the bathroom. He takes that as an invitation to follow. 

It’s clinical. Rehearsed. Neither of you speak. It’s a partnered dance long since committed to muscle memory, steps you can take in your sleep. He knows to seat himself on the step stool you got just for him, for nights like these. He knows where to find the first aid kit and which supplies to hand you first. You know the exact steps to follow. Check the palms for abrasions. Antiseptic to the lacerations. Concussion exam. 

Maybe he can sense the air of tension surrounding you, because he doesn’t say as much as he usually does (though, granted, it’s still not much). It’s a reflection of your dynamic several months earlier when this arrangement began, back before you’d managed to chip away at the surface of his rough exterior. You notice the way his fingers curl against his thighs when you, somewhat carelessly, wipe the dirt from his skin with more pressure than necessary and the way his eyebrows tilt inward when you work slower than usual. You notice, but you ignore it.

We both know you have at least a dozen people who could do this for you. The words echo in your mind. Don’t act like I owe you this. If anything, you owe me a new carpet. These are things you wish you could say, but never will. Being realistic, you’ll probably never be able to say things like this. You’ll be subjected to all the shitty coworkers and unsympathetic friends and exploitative vigilantes of the world for the rest of your life.

This isn’t his fault, you remind yourself, but still, your lips turn down and your jaw feels tight with the effort to keep your face still, to not burst into tears right on the spot. In the second it takes for you to calm yourself, your hands pause. He notices. He says nothing. 

It’s not until you’re finished with cleaning the blood from his arm wound and giving him a wad of gauze to hold against it that he tests the waters and asks, “Is it too bad?” 

He sounds automated, but over the last few months, you’ve learned a thing or two about reading even these robotic actions. There's a certain quietness to the beginning of his sentence like he’s debating if he should say it or not. 

“It’s fine,” you say, shortly. 

“Sorry about your rug,” he says. He tugs at the strap of his muzzle with one finger, rubbing at the skin underneath the leather. “I can get the stain out.”

You retrieve the needle and thread from the kit and don’t respond. You don’t even look at him.

After a moment’s hesitation, he continues. “It’s easy. You just need salt and—”

“Okay.”

He goes quiet.

You don’t mean to be so tetchy, but you don’t have the energy for anything more. Every little thing has you feeling on the edge of shattering. It’s too much. It’s all too much.

It’s when you’re kneeled at his side, staring into the gaping wound on his bicep and trying to thread the needle, fingers trembling from the chill of the tiled floor with nothing but a layer of thin cotton to keep you warm, that it happens. He shifts on the stool, a mere twitch in an attempt to get comfortable, but it brushes his bloody arm against yours. Flecks of fresh red on the light pink fabric. First your carpet, now your pajamas. Your favorite, special, extra soft matching cotton pajama set, a rare splurge after your promotion that stood out among old t-shirts and sweat shorts. Ruined. Again, he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Did I say something?” Hood asks. He waits for your response, but when none comes, he adds, “I’m sorry if I did.” He speaks so quietly you may not have been able to separate his words from the whirring filter of his mask, if not for the chilling silence of the bathroom floor. The insulating brick walls of your old apartment building are something you’re usually grateful for, but tonight you find yourself wishing for the city’s commotion to seep through the walls. Something, anything to buffer his proximity to you.

You hear his inhale as he prepares to say something else.

“Can you just let me work?” You snap before he has the chance to speak again. It’s loud, louder than you’d ever dream of speaking to him, and he flinches. Your eyes shut in apology, but only for a moment before you get back to it. He looks away. His feet point towards the door.

He wants to leave, you can tell, and you don’t blame him. You just messed everything up. But you started this, so now you have to finish it.

You sit in silence for the several minutes it takes for you to clean his wound and stop the bleeding.

He’s not looking at you, gaze transfixed ahead of him on a chip in the paint. At least, you assume. It’s difficult to guess what’s going on behind the milky white covering over his eyes. His subtle body language can be read if you pay close enough attention, you’ve learned, but that’s not something you care to do right now.

(Maybe you noticed in the back of your mind that he’s not exhibiting any body language since you snapped at him, but the compartment in your head for guilt is already overflowing, so maybe you didn’t notice it, you tell yourself.)

You stare at your sleeve, at the patches of blood blooming like ink blots. The red and pink hues blend together behind your blurring vision. You sniffle.

“Are you—” Hood starts. Because now he’s looking at you.

“Excuse me,” you say, pushing yourself off the ground and stumbling out of the room without so much as a glance back at him. You stagger into your room, needle and thread still in hand, and push the door closed. The lights are off, and the darkness is calming, quieting your buzzing thoughts. You close your eyes and lean against the door. Breathe in. Breathe out. You continue this exercise, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth to soothe your sympathetic nervous system, the same way a therapist instructed that one time you went. You wipe away the moisture that has collected in your eyes, roll out your stiff neck, dry your sweaty palms over your thighs. You toss the needle and thread aside, because they are definitely not sterile anymore, and take a few more breaths before opening the door and going back to the bathroom.

You avoid his face, following the lines of grimy grout between the tiles before resuming to your spot at his side. His inspecting eyes burn on the side of your face. You wipe down the forceps with a sterilizing wipe and rip open the plastic packaging for a new needle, holding it up to the wound, but your hand refuses to steady.

Another deep breath. Then another.

Hood sighs. It’s almost chastising. “I think I should go.”

“What?” You’re just surprised enough to be torn away from your thoughts and look him in the eye (mask) for the first time all night.

“You can’t do this,” he says, gruffly. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll let you figure it out.”

You scoff. “Yes, I can. I’m fine.”

Before he can argue, you grab him by the wrist to hold him in place just as he starts moving to get up. He winces, but you keep your grip tight on him. You can feel his scrutiny through the cold, expressionless barrier of his disguise, practically track his pupils as they search your face.

You both pretend he couldn’t break from your hold in an instant if he wanted to.

“You’re shaking,” Hood says. His voice is much softer now.

You follow the turn of his head to your hand where it hovers the needle right over his skin. You are shaking. Trembling, in fact.

“No, I’m not.” It comes out as an empty whisper.

You focus all your strength on steadying yourself, but the harder you try to stabilize, the harder you tremor. Your other hand releases his wrist to clamp over your dominant hand and force it to stay in place. It guides the needle closer to the skin, but now your vision is blurring. You blink rapidly, but it’s not enough. The tears start falling. You look away from him, but a warm hand settles over yours. You don’t dare look at him, unable to bear showing him your shameful face, wet and blushing and screwed up in misery. You turn your face into your sleeve. Clamp your eyes shut tight, thinking maybe if you keep them closed, this darkness will swallow you up and he won’t be here anymore.

But the warmth of his skin on yours is the first feeling of softness, of relief you’ve felt in months, and then it’s gone. Your shoulders are shaking, quaking with the effort to keep your sobs quiet.

One finger ever so gently hooks around your chin, pulling it back up to face him. You keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see him see you like this, but the tears are still streaming. He brushes them away. Whether that makes it better or worse, you can’t be sure, because you cry even harder, snatching your face away from his grasp to muffle your sobs into the back of your hand. You don’t realize he’s pushed himself off his stool to sit cross-legged on the floor until you feel his hand circling your arm and pulling you closer. The tools in your hand clatter on the floor as your palms come up to press against his chest, fighting against him with half-hearted protests murmured through your cries. But even with only one good arm he’s too strong for you, and you’re pulled into him.

He’s so gentle with you, rubbing your back and resting his chin atop your head while you cry and cry and cry into his shirt. Several minutes pass like this, with your face buried in his chest and his good arm holding you tightly against him while the other dangles lamely at his side, throbbing with an intensity he’s trying to ignore.

When your sobs die down, and you’re sure you’re all cried out, you linger against him. He smells like smoke and gasoline, and his shirt is soft and warm from his body heat seeping through. His hand continues to stroke up and down the length of your back, even after you’ve quieted. The edge of his mask digs into your scalp where his chin sits, but it feels worth it. Your hands, still pressed to his chest, slide higher, completely of their own volition, out of a newfound desire to wrap your arms around his neck. You don’t hear it, but you can feel his sharp draw of breath, his chest rising quickly under your touch. Your hands lose their nerve at his clavicle as you hold your breath for fear of the smallest movement drawing attention to your forwardness. You wait for him to rebuff you, to lean away from your touch, or grab your wrists and pry them off. He doesn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. His chest finally falls.

Eyes opening, your thumb swipes over the edge of the red bat symbol just below his collarbone.

His movements pause, lightly gripping the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, before releasing it. “It’s alright,” he tells you.

You pull back from his chest to look at him, the way his cold and unfeeling expression stares back at you. You wonder from time to time what’s under the mask, but tonight the desire is overwhelming; you ache with the want to know what he looks like. The color of his eyes. What his mouth looks like when he winces over a deep cut or chuckles at one of your anecdotes. You wonder if his lips are soft or chapped. If he’d like it if you dragged your thumb across the bottom one.

The metallic odor spreading through the room brings you back to the present, and you hope the flush from your tears hides your cheeks’ growing heat when you realize where your mind had wandered. 

“Oh, fuck, your arm.” You speak in a watery voice, wiping at your face as the urgency returns to your senses. Though you try to move away, his firm hand on your back pulls you back in.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” He says, resuming his caresses up and down your back. “I can take care of it.”

“Then why do you even need me?” You sniffle with a small smile.

He stays silent. But when you search his face, waiting for an answer, his hand moves to your side, palm sliding a fraction of an inch closer to your waist and fingers tensing, you can almost see through the mechanical muzzle to the way his lips shape the words. At least, he wishes you could.

You know why.

this was lots of fun to write and thank u for your patience ik i said i was gonna "knock this out in a day" 2 weeks ago😬😬 also we're gonna pretend they aren't just letting his open wound marinate for half an hour when it should be getting stitched up bc it's fiction ok? everyone say thank you mostly-imagines for proofreading this😚

but anyway happy new year!! it's been barely 2 months but starting this account made my year so much better🫶🫶🫶and ty for 500 followers that's crazy🫣🫢