#SOMEONE please explain to me how it's not misogyny

[dirtyl0ver]

Omg I loved your headcanons of Brian and Tim so much <33 can you please expand on their types because I swear when I read ‘love a woman who can cook’ I cheered LMAO- I love to cook it’s my hobby and I’d NEVER cook for a man, but I’d make Masky an exception. Or Brian with a feminine girl, nails, hair and all PLEASE I BEG FOR MORE 🙏 it might not cater to everyone but your headcanons gave me such silly validation and I’m greedy for more IM SORRY I BE KICKING MY FEET AND EVERYTHING

I love this question so much omg 😭 First of all - why wouldn’t you cook for a man?? They love that stuff. Feed a guy right and suddenly he’s doing chores and giving you the best d of your life 😩🙏 aaaanyway...

Yes. I definitely see both Tim and Brian being drawn to more "feminine" girls, and not just because they find it attractive, but because that kind of energy is missing from their lives. Pls let me explain!

CW: mentions of trauma, misogyny (discussed, NOT endorsed), power imbalances in relationships. Please read with care!

Tim and Brian x Feminine Reader: A Rant

Tim/Masky

Tim, to me, is someone who’s experienced very little real affection in his life. I imagine he grew up in a broken home, possibly with an alcoholic or emotionally unavailable father, maybe even domestic violence. I think his early environment shaped not just how he sees the world, but how he sees women. And unfortunately, that means he may carry some internalized misogyny.

Not in an overt hateful way. It's this subtle ingrained belief system that tells him women are weaker, overly emotional or just not as capable. He's not malicious, this is just the result of never being taught otherwise. Combine that with years of psychological trauma, violence and being surrounded by other damaged men, and you've got someone whose understanding of relationships is deeply fractured.

I think in his earlier years, especially before ever being in a meaningful relationship, Tim likely viewed women as something to use for sex, or distraction, rather than as true partners. That doesn't make him an evil person, he's just never seen a healthy relationship dynamic in action.

That said, once he is in a relationship, and especially if he really cares about someone, he’s extremely protective. He will go to terrifying lengths to shield you from harm, and he genuinely wants to give his girl a better life than what he’s known.

However, and this is key, I don’t think he views romantic relationships as “equal partnerships” in that sense. Brian is his partner - as in his equal, his right hand, the only one he trusts at eye-level. His romantic partner, especially if she’s more feminine, is someone he wants to protect. He puts her on a pedestal, but not as an equal - more as someone who needs to be looked after.

This isn’t necessarily healthy, but it is consistent with who he is. And I think there’s another layer to this too - Tim is starved of femininity.

He lives in a house full of violent, messy, filthy men. The kind who never clean, never fold their laundry, never wash dishes. There’s nothing soft in his day-to-day life. So when he meets a girl who brings that, who’s gentle to him, who smells nice, folds his clothes without being asked, cooks for him, it knocks him flat. It reminds him there’s still beauty and kindness in the world.

So yes, he eats that shit up. He might not know how to show it, but trust me, he appreciates everything.

Brian/Hoodie

Brian’s perspective is similar, but more internal and more quietly layered.

His environment is just as brutal and isolated as Tim’s, but in a colder way. Brian is a man who’s very much in his own head. He’s stoic, calculated and emotionally repressed. So the presence of something overtly feminine in his space, whether that be perfume, nail polish, nice clothes, a girl in a silk robe - it feels like relief to him.

But here’s the thing: I do think Brian also struggles with certain views of women that could be labeled misogynistic. Not in that aggressive hateful sense, but more in the form of pity. He sees women (especially feminine ones) as delicate, maybe even helpless. He doesn't want to demean them, but he sees them as needing protection. He assumes softness means fragility.

That said, unlike Tim, Brian views femininity as something beautiful and rare. He doesn’t always understand it, but he deeply respects it. There’s almost a reverence to the way he views girls who embody it. A girl with her nails done, her hair brushed back, wearing soft fabrics - to him, that’s not frivolous. That’s power and peace and something worth preserving.

It makes sense when you consider his background. I imagine Brian grew up in a deeply conservative, religious home that was quiet, strict and emotionally closed-off. There may have been pressure to be silent and obedient. No space for softness or expression. So now, as an adult, he secretly craves the very things he was denied: warmth, scent, color, intimacy.

And I personally love the headcanon that Brian had a younger sister. Someone he was responsible for and protected. Someone who taught him how to be gentle. I think that’s the one place he did learn how to understand femininity without objectifying it.

So when he falls for someone who embodies that kind of energy, she’s not just a girlfriend, she’s also something sacred. He may not say it, may not even show it half the time, but that protectiveness and quiet attentiveness of his, that's his version of love.

So yes! Tim and Brian both carry damage. They both have flaws. They weren’t raised with good examples of women, or love, or balance. So having a girl who's nurturing to them, who brings them comfort - it can quite frankly be healing to them.

[worstgenerationloser]

Could you please do ace, shanks and benn defending their f s/o from a misogynistic man? I had to face one at work and he gave me the absolute ICK

,, Rushing to your aid! ''

Ace, Shanks, and Beckman x F! Reader.

Summary... how would your boyfriend defend you from a misogynistic man?

Contains... misogyny, mentions of harassment, depictions of bloody violence, and some slight fluff!

A/N: IM SORRY YOU HAD TO DEAL WITH THAT ANON💕 I hope since you sent in this ask the men have left you alone! If not I'll ward them away myself!! 🤺🤺

Portgas D. Ace

Ace doesn't register it completely, so at first he's confused on why this man is talking to you as if you were a baby (mostly because he's a dumbass)

Now, even if he wasn't aware the man was being misogynistic at first, he's still rushing towards you because there's literally a weird man talking to you the way you would to a little kid, and you definitely looked angry enough to tear off his head.

"Woah, what's happening here?" Instinctively and natural as breathing, his arm slips around your shoulders and his fingers move to gently graze your arm in an attempt to console you.

He doesn't like showing his temper much, but when people precious to him are involved, his angry heart bursts into flames. When the man speaks, his jaw drops out of pure disbelief. According to him, he was mansplaining how pirates operate to you. Which is weird, because Ace knows that you're definitely well versed in pirates... Considering you're his girlfriend.

He wanted to diffuse the situation, but it seems like this random needed a reality check.

"Hm... Good to know, but I'm sure it's irrelevant to her." His smile is wide and joyous, but the ominous shadow looming over his face is anything but.

"But she's clueless!", the man rambles on and bumbles about like a headless chicken, before he turns back to get one good look at Ace. Then it clicks in his pea-sized brain that maybe you know a bit more about pirates than him.

Ace looks a little scary when he's mad, you discover . But mostly cute.

"My girlfriend doesn't need to explain her knowledge to some random asshole who couldn't make a lasting impact on her life if he tried, you're way below her, buddy."

With gritted teeth, Ace tries to not light fire to the whole town, but only you seem to notice his body is literally smoking hot.

According to Ace, the guy ran a little too slow, and that's how he ended up naked covered in burn marks! The marines didn't believe him, though, and you two were left to flee.

"Can you believe the balls on that guy? It's not like you're unknown, either. Portgas D. Ace's kickass girlfriend! It's got a nice ring to it, eh?"

He nudges you a little too hard and sends you flying into a bush, but you appreciate the cute moments with him no matter how brief.

Red-Haired Shanks

Shanks learned many things during his time in the Roger Pirates, but one thing really stuck with him throughout the years. He can tolerate being spat on and kicked around, if his crew sees it as a threat then he's not gonna stop them from doing whatever it is they're planning, but he's not gonna ask them to go out of their way to deal with it.

But when someone disrespects his crew, and especially you?

Oh, he's pissed.

You think he doesn't realize at first, but he's keeping a very close eye on you two. He tries to keep his ass planted firmly into his chair per Beckman's request. Beckman is the mature one, and he's almost never wrong in the astute observations he makes. Despite this, Shanks has no self control and he's lobbing himself towards the bar where you sit.

Beckman shakes his head disapprovingly at his captain, because unlike him, Beck knows you can handle yourself.

The man in question harassing you seems to be a small time criminal with a bounty of 50,000... That doesn't deter Shanks, it might have egged him on even more because who does he think he is harassing you?

By the time Shanks has made his way to you, your harasser seems to have taken it upon himself to demean you for your appearance, pulling out all the classics like "bitch" "whore" , and "slut" to name a few. Shanks, of course, finds absolutely no amusement in this. I'm sure you can guess what happened next.

Your harasser tries to argue and degrade you a little more when Shanks steps up, not realizing how silent the bar has suddenly become. He didn't even realize the hundreds of eyes disappearing from him, not wanting to watch things unfold.

"You're drunk, I'll give you that one." Shanks barks out a laugh like he finds it funny, but up close you can see that gleam in his eyes.

Well... it's not like you could stop him anyways.

But you really wish he left the bar standing, at least. It certainly isn't doing good for his reputation as an emperor of the seas.

When Beckman scolds him as if he were a child on deck, he laughs like he'll forget about it in a day or two. But everyone knows Shanks will be doing it all over again in a heartbeat. He holds you extra close that night, trying to make sure your heart isn't tainted by the venomous words spat.

"I don't want anybody, big name or small, disrespecting people I hold dear to me."

His words are sweet while he whispers to you in bed... he's an odd man, but he's yours.

Benn Beckman

Two words. Broken. Bones.

Beckman does not play around with his girl, at all. He'll bash in heads day and night if someone even looks at you the wrong way, but he restrains himself because he's not a jealous young man anymore, so he likes to think.

Regarding everything else, he's cool as a cucumber, he prefers to let things wash over by themselves and only offers advice if he senses things will go astray. (as previously mentioned)

You're his girl, and a damn beautiful one, so he isn't surprised when some people try and scope you out, the same happens to him with many women, so why be so hypocritical about it? His heart is locked inside of yours for the rest of his life whether you want him or not, so he knows you won't run off with another no matter how much Shanks jokes about it.

If they're a little persistent, he might walk up to you and give you a few kisses so they get the message. But this man was definitely not "a little persistent."

Beck doesn't have a second to think of what he should do when he hears the utterances of vile comments slip from this man's mouth after you turned him down, because he's already right next to you quicker than his own head can wrap around. He's big, tall and scary, enough so to make someone shake with just a look.

"A grown man like yourself should know that ain't no way to talk to a lady." His voice is low, and he's talking nice and slow for your harassers ears only.

Beck heard it all, him hitting on you in an unceremonious way, all the way to demeaning you when you rejected him, spouting the same chewed up rhetoric that is "women are only good for bearing children" and whatnot. He can't let that pass no matter how capable you may be of handling it yourself.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" The man's words were proven to be a bad move before his lips could rest against eachother.

Following that, there was quite a sight. Somehow Beckman managed to twist the poor guy into some kind of abstract form of art, all bloody and fucked up with no more teeth left.

And of course he ushered you away after wiping his hands clean enough for you, because he's a gentleman, he didn't do it for himself, it was for you!

"M'sorry you had to see that, sugar." His whispers fill your head while he has you resting your head on his chest hours later, a few giggles coming from outside your bedroom door. Guess who?

"You know I won't let nobody disrespect you like that. You aren't mad, are you baby?" Beckman is a real sweet talker, so it's not like you could be even if you tried.

Plus, he looks super hot fighting.

END.

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated! ❤️If possible, leave a comment too!

[genderqueerdykes]

I still feel really iffy about transandrophobia (a bit less so after your explanation) but the main thing confusing me is why is it considered the intersection of being a man + being trans when it stems from transphobia and misogyny? It can’t really stem from misandry because misandry is systematically not a thing. I’m starting to understand it a bit but i’m still SUPER confused. I also feel really bad that So Many ppl who believe in transandrophobia are really rude to transfems.

hello there. i hope i can explain things that help make sense of it a bit better. i appreciate you coming back to ask more. please note that i'm saying this to be productive and not to hurt your feelings or anything. i just need to point out some key things that i see repeated often in these conversations

it's not "believing" that transandrophobia exists, it is acknowledging that it exists. this is not a religion. this is much like gravity in that this form of oppression doesn't cease to exist just because someone doesn't believe in it. it's not like god, belief is not necessary. it will happen regardless of whether or not you believe it's happening

i really need you to understand that transmascs and trans men are PEOPLE above all else and talking over them and telling them they don't actually know what they're going through and need someone else to explain it for them is so fucking horrible. please don't do that to an entire group of people. transmascs and trans men ARE reliable narrators on their own lived experiences. why is it okay to freak the fuck out when trans men speak for trans women, but trans women are the only ones we can listen to when it comes to trans manhood? please consider how screwed up this double standard is. if you refuse to listen to trans men talk about trans womanhood, do the same when trans women talk like they know everything about trans manhood.

why is it considered the intersection of being a man + being trans when it stems from transphobia and misogyny?

because that's not what it refers to! trans men and transmascs experience misogyny but they're not using "transandrophobia" to mean "misogyny 2". it's specifically because they are trans MEN and nothing else. we did not reinvent misogyny, this is a specific experience that we face that people can learn about if they just listen to us talk about it!

transandrophobia is a specific type of transphobia that is directed towards trans men and mascs that is specifically directed at them because they are trans MEN and trans MASCS. it's NOT stock standard transphobia, transmascs & trans men are specifically being targeted because they are trans MEN. being told that you're "not a real man" because you're trans isn't misogyny. being told you're "not really a gay guy" because you're trans isn't misogyny. mocking trans men for not having deep enough voices or enough facial hair to pass isn't misogyny. telling trans men they're not real men because they don't have penises isn't misogyny. telling them they're not real men because they like women's clothing isn't misogyny. telling them they're not real men because they work in a female dominated field isn't misogyny.

mocking trans men who can't grow body hair for not "being real men" isn't misogyny. telling them they're not real men because they have feminine interests isn't misogyny. telling them they're too short to be a man isn't misogyny. telling them their face or body isn't masculine enough to be a man isn't misogyny. trans men getting misgendered for their voices isn't misogyny. getting called a "tranny dyke" or a "cunt boy" when someone finds out a trans man is trans isn't misogyny... all of these things are transandrophobia. these no longer have anything to do with being perceived as a woman, these have to do with being perceived/attempting to be perceived as a man/masc.

trans men are affected by misogyny too, but it's not the same as transandrophobia. as a matter of fact, telling a trans man that they're experiencing misogyny when they aren't IS transandrophobia..

I also feel really bad that So Many ppl who believe in transandrophobia are really rude to transfems.

i'm going to lay it down painfully easily for you, but when you say things like that, it really comes across as virtue signalling. i'm going to be blatantly honest with you here. it really sounds like you're trying to suck up to transfems for brownie points by saying trans men don't suffer any forms of oppression at all and that people who acknowledge that transandrophobia exist are mostly rude transmisogynistic assholes. you're participating in silencing trans men & transmascs for the sake of trying to look more Trans Friendly to transfems and trans women and we can see it for what it is. please stop. this isn't flattering. it scares transfems and trans women when you do this because we don't know when you'll turn that hatred, malice and ignorance toward us whenever the narrative shifts again. this does not make us feel safe around you.

acknowledging that transandrophobia exists doesn't mean someone is attacking trans women and trans fems. like i'm sick and tired of the "people who believe in transandrophobia are really mean to transfems" shit. it's not true! this is way over exaggerated for the sake of making trans men and mascs look bad. i cannot stress how much this is NOT true for every single person who acknowledges that transandrophobia exists. i have a lot of friends who acknowledge that transandrophobia exists, trans men, transmascs, and all other kinds of genders, including trans women and transfems! you know how many of them are ACTUALLY rude to or attack trans women?

0. none. i'm not saying those people don't exist but they are NOT the norm. hell, there are literally trans women who acknowledge transandrophobia exist. the world is not as tiny as you've been made to feel it seems. there ARE shitty people out there who acknowledge that transandrophobia exists, but it's not the norm. it's not the vast majority of us. we have to stop having this knee jerk reaction of "trans woman = defenseless pure cant ever hurt anyone constant victim always hurt by men no matter what the context is" and "trans man = evil because man subhuman deserves to die literally an attack to every and all trans women around them"

i would suggest actually reading the anons i get about transandrophobia if you want to learn more about it! please stop listening to people who AREN'T trans men and transmascs when it comes to what kinds of oppression they face. nobody else actually knows what they go through. please actually listen to THEM. it's not helping trans women by refusing to listen to literally every other kind of trans person. it's not alleviating trans women of the oppression we face to deny that other people can be oppressed, too.

also whether or not ppl wanna accept it, transmascs and trans men are human and you really, really do need to care about that. like genuinely. please just open your heart and care about transmascs and trans men in a way that doesn't involve throwing them under the bus to attempt to look better to transfems. it's not helping anyone. put your ego down for a good few hours and actually listen to other people- and yes, i really do mean more than just trans women. listening to trans women is great. we appreciate it. but stop silencing other people in order to do that. it's not necessary.

[lovegreenie]

Love, Copycat | NSH Riki | 西村 力

synopsis. 3 times you wonder why Riki likes copying you, and the 1 time you realize why

pairing. bsf! riki x fem! reader

tags. fluff, reader is oblivious, college! au, extremely self-indulgent, reader is a bit of a nerd, Riki indulges her nerdiness… a little too much, childhood friends to almost lovers (they’re getting there), attempt at comedic narration

essie's ✉️. “Soft Spot” by Keshi inspired this (I was possessed by it while writing this actually) Also please tell me someone has this as their love language too like it’s got such a special place in my heart:( And thank you to bestie @sweethoneyjays for beta reading !!

wc. 2.9k

Copycat.

It’s what you’ve always called Riki.

It’s his contact name on your phone, it’s the name you use whenever you talk about him, and it’s the name you call out whenever any minor inconvenience graces you with its presence.

Like right now.

“Mm?” He hummed in response when you groaned out your little nickname for him, his eyes never leaving the switch in his hands as he lay sprawled across your bed. 

All you could do in that moment was let out a sigh as you went slack against the backrest of your desk chair, your head hanging from its edge while you stared at the ceiling.

“I thought I’d love it, I truly did. It's a mystery, has secret societies, a commentary on classism and misogyny; everything I love in a book,” you said as you picked up the one on your desk and looked at it with contempt, “so why can’t I get through this one? It’s barely 500 pages.” 

Riki paused his game to walk over and sit on the ottoman you keep by your desk. You handed over the book for him to check out, and he mumbled as he read the title on the cover.

“Can’t you just do your assignment on ‘Babel’? It’s the same genre, has a secret society, explores the same problems, and it’s dark academia like this one, no?” He handed the book back to you after he finished reading the synopsis.

You blinked at him.

“You’ve read… ‘Babel’? As in… 1830s Oxford, the power of translation, daddy-issues-Robin ‘Babel’?”

There was a hint of confusion and amusement behind your surprised look, and a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You never took Riki to be a book-worm in the nine years you’ve been friends, never once saw him pick up a book if it wasn’t for school.

At this point, you were less upset with your professor’s poor literary choice for your first assignment of the term, and more so delighted by the fact that your best friend had read what is probably your all-time-favorite book by your all-time-favorite author.

Unprompted.

Riki huffed out a little laugh as he got up and plopped back onto your bed, not before annoying you with a hair ruffle though.

“Yeah well it’s the only book you’ve been carrying around since last year. You’ve even filled it up with tabs and annotations” He resumed his game as he continued to talk.

“If it was good enough for you to keep around that long after finishing it, I figured I’d give it a shot.”

You didn’t know how to respond.

A comforting silence blanketed the both of you like it usually did when you guys would hang out, the sound of his game being the only thing filling in the space between the two of you.

All you did was stare at the switch-occupied boy on your bed, thinking his answer would make sense if you did.

You stared, and you stared, and you stared,

but to no avail.

You sat up properly and turned back to face your desk, opening the book to the page you left your bookmark on, and started to read like you weren’t just complaining about it a minute ago.

“Copycat…” You murmured to yourself, your reddened cheek pressed against the palm of your hand, elbow settled down on your desk.

Riki explained himself like that was the most normal course of action ever… and you know what? Maybe it is.

For him at least.

It’s then that you realize that you really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, not when it’s happened so many times before.

It is how he earned his nickname after all.

The birth of “Copycat” happened about two years into your friendship, some time in between grades 9 and 10, with your 9th grade second semester English finals being the catalyst of it all.

You were working on your paper during lunch break, stationed in front of one of the library computers as you scribbled down notes and did your research.

“I didn’t realize watching cartoons was considered data gathering.”

You pulled out your earphones and paused the show that was playing on the monitor. The sight of Riki and his teasing smile greeted you when you turned around in your seat.

“We’re tasked to do a literary analysis, Riks,” you gestured towards the computer screen while hitting him with a deadpan look, “and this cartoon is literature.”

Your retort didn’t wipe the playful grin off his face, instead it only served to widen it. Riki sat himself in front of the computer next to yours, setting his bag down on the floor as he switched on the CPU.

“What’re you in the library for?” You asked as you put your earphones back in.

“‘M also doing my English paper.”

“On?”

“‘Weathering With You’.”

“And yet you have the audacity to come at me for watching a cartoon for my finals,” you quipped and shook your head disapprovingly, earning a soft chuckle from him. “Tsk tsk tsk.”

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just call ‘Weathering With You’ a cartoon for the sake of our friendship,” Riki feigned offense, to which you fondly rolled your eyes.

“What’s…” He leaned towards your screen for a second to get a better look, “What’s ‘Voltron’ about anyway?”

And that, ladies and gentlemen, opened a whole can of worms.

You went on a tangent about how you have a love-hate relationship with the show, about how poorly the writers treated the plot and the individual arcs of two characters, and about how the main romance was bullshitted and didn’t even make sense—a tangent that lasted 10 minutes at the very least.

You were hit with a belated sense of embarrassment by the end of your little spiel, realizing that you just kept rambling on about the what-should-have-beens of a space lion cartoon.

You were about to either apologize or thank Riki for sitting through all of that, but he did you one better by asking;

“Is it cool if I watch with you?”

You were slightly taken aback; you weren’t expecting him to ask if he could watch your silly little show with him.

That’s how you two ended up spending the rest of that day’s lunch period in the library, sharing your earphones as the rest of Voltron’s season 3 played on the computer screen, Riki’s own research for his finals be damned.

Now, how exactly did this little library watch party serve as the catalyst for “Copycat”?

Well a week later, he came up to you saying that he watched the rest of the show. You didn’t think much of it besides being happy that Riki picked up one of your interests, now getting to geek out about the show with him; but then you noticed he started doing that with every other interest you’d mention from then on out.

You found out on a random Tuesday that Riki started liking a band that you absolutely love but only mentioned in passing; you were hanging out in your house, in the middle of Just Dance, when Riki brought up getting into that one movie series you talked about the week prior; and you were walking side by side one afternoon, Bisco in between both of you, when Riki told you that he picked up a hobby of yours.

“Copycat,” you muttered for the first time, right after he told you he tried that egg tart you really like from the bakery near your high school.

It was summer break. The both of you had just gone for a couple of rides around your neighborhood on your bikes, and now you guys were sitting curbside, cooling off with popsicles.

“What? You don’t like that I like what you like?” Riki asked as he took a bite out of his tangy ice lolly, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“No no, I never said that; I’m happy you’ve been refining your taste,” you quipped back with a smirk as you licked your own treat, “but that doesn’t make you any less of a copycat.”

The humming of cicadas filled the silence between the two of you, and for a while you simply appreciated the way the trees swayed and the way speckled sunlight hit the pavement you were sitting on. 

You didn’t think about how the both of you would still carry that silly off-handed nickname years later, well into your sophomore year of uni.

You never stopped to wonder why.

Why Riki kept copying you, to be specific.

It’s not like you minded, far from that actually—though you’d never admit to that and give up the fondly annoyed front you put up with him.

You were simply curious.

And so were Jake and Sunoo, apparently.

“No, because you’d have to strap Riki to a chair if you want him to actually watch something.” Sunoo explained, exasperation laced in his voice.

“That isn’t an exaggeration, by the way,” Jake chimed in, “we had to hold him down just so he’d watch ‘Love, Rosie’ with us.”

“You’re serious?” You laughed at the thought of Riki being held down exorcist-style just for a movie.

The three of you had been doing uni work in a cafe for about two hours at that point, hunched over your laptops and lecture notes while sipping on watered down iced coffee. Your much needed study break came in the form of Riki slander.

“I honestly don’t know how you do it.” Sunoo sighed as he closed his laptop.

“Hmm?” You hummed in response, not quite sure what he was referring to.

“You know, getting Riki to do the things you like with you.”

“Yeah whenever he gets into something new or recommends something to us, we ask him how he found out about it and he’d say ‘She likes it, so I thought I’d give it a shot too.” Jake added.

“Oh-”

You didn’t really know how to answer that, because you never had to ask Riki in the first place.

“Well if I’m being completely honest, I don’t. He just…” You vaguely gestured to nothing, “does it himself lol.”

The apples of your cheeks went pink and you tried to play it off coolly by pretending to write notes down, but it was too late because Sunoo already had a knowing smile on his face.

Jake was about to ask Sunoo why he was grinning from ear-to-ear when Riki arrived, immediately sitting next to you and greeting you with a pinch on your cheek. You pretended to swat it away but made no real effort to get him off you.

“Copycat,” You greeted with a blank tone, acknowledging his arrival without having to look at him, not with your face all red.

“Hello, Shortie.” Riki greeted back with a fond smile before he turned to face the two other boys at the table, “My dear hyungs.”

Jake went in for a dap, and Sunoo just rolled his eyes.

“Why’re you late? We’ve been here for two hours already.” Sunoo scolded, though there wasn’t any real bite to his words.

“Sorry, should’ve texted you guys; Sola needed help with homework, and my older sister needed a ride to her part-time.” Riki explained as he set down a box in the middle of the table.

“I also took a detour and bought snacks for you guys.” He added as he opened the lid. You looked at the box and sure enough, it was from that bakery you mentioned to him all those years ago. The sight of the egg tarts’ golden caps and the smell of their buttery crust felt like a hug from a dear old memory.

Jake immediately grabbed a tart, and Sunoo did a little happy dance before thanking Riki (he even threw in a “you should be late all the time if you’re gonna buy us snacks like this~”)

“Oh my God these are amazing.” Sunoo groaned as soon as he took a bite, face crumpling in what looked like anger from how good the tart was.

“Where did you buy these?” Jake asked, equally as impressed by the little pastry in his hands.

“A bake shop near our old high school,” Riki answered simply.

He pulled out a tart from the box and handed it over to you, a soft smile on his lips as he glanced your way. “These tarts are her favorite, and the bakery was en route to here so…”

Riki didn’t finish his sentence, instead opting to dig into an egg tart himself as he opened up his notes and started to work.

You were too surprised by his last statement that you forgot to take a bite out of the treat in your hands.

It tasted a lot sweeter and felt a lot warmer since you’ve last eaten it. And no, it’s not because the bakery switched up their recipe.

You started to understand why; why Riki kept copying you, for that matter.

And it only took one last push in the right direction for you to fully come to your senses.

“You’re not getting anything?” Riki asked. He followed closely behind you as you browsed the shelves of the music shop you guys were in.

“Not today at least,” You answered, eyes still focused on the jewel cases in front of you, “I just wanted to check the place out to see if they’ve got any of the albums I’m looking for.”

“I saw Big Thief and The Marias back there.” Riki mentioned.

“Yeah, I did too.” You smiled.

“They’re definitely on my list; I just need a little more time to save up so I can buy a few of the CDs I want in one go.” You explained as you placed back a Sade album on the shelf. “I kinda want to have more than one album on hand with me; more variety, y’know?”

The both of you left the music shop empty-handed that day.

On a bus ride home from uni about two weeks later, Riki asks you if you’ve saved up enough to buy the albums you want.

“Not yet, almost there though,” You answer simply before sporting a cheeky smirk, “Why? Want to buy them for me instead?”

“Please, if I had that kind of money, it’d go straight to my Steam wishlist.” Riki mused.

“Ahhh yeah, Hades 2…” You sucked in a breath.

“Exactly.”

There’s a momentary silence between you two, filled up by the humming of the AC unit and the thrumming of the engine.

“Why’d you ask anyway?” You asked, looking out the window.

“Hmm? Oh- uhhh…” Riki stammered for a bit as he rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a CD before handing it over to you.

You looked at the jewel case in Riki’s hand and then at him.

“What’s this?” You asked as you slowly took it from him and scanned the front cover. 

It read, “Love, Copycat,” with a drawing of you below it.

Before he could even answer, you realised what it was.

“I uh… made you a playlist,” Riki said in a hushed and bashful tone, a contrast to his usual confident and playful demeanor. “I thought I’d make you one while you saved up for the albums you want. You seemed pretty excited about using that CD player.”

You felt a pang in your heart when you looked up to see the sincerity in Riki’s eyes and in his shy smile.

“I added all your favorites—Clairo, The Japanese House, Adrienne Lenker.” He tapped the case in your hands, and his timid grin made way for a little pride to shine through, “I even drew a little portrait of you for the cover.”

You couldn’t stop looking at Riki. You were consumed by the thought of him going through the effort of buying the blank CD and jewel case, curating the playlist, downloading the songs, burning them into the disc, and making a custom cover—a hand-drawn portrait of you.

And then it hit you, all in one go.

Oh.

I’m stupid.

All those shows he watched, those hobbies he tried, those songs he listened to—all those interests he wouldn’t have been within a 10-foot radius of if it wasn’t for you;

He wasn’t copying you.

Riki did all that for you.

To say that he tugged at your heartstrings would be the understatement of the century—he straight up yanked at them. You only realized then that Riki had your heart in the gentlest of  chokeholds, and you wished he’d never let go.

Thwack.

A flick to your forehead.

…Okay maybe you did wish he’d let go, just this once.

You rubbed the spot Riki struck as you stared daggers into him, “WHAT THE HELL MAN?”

“WHAT??? You were zoned out for ages,” Riki laughed, “had to make sure you were still alive.”

You shook your head and scoffed before your eyes landed on the jewel case in your hand, another wave of silence—this time bubbling with tension—washing over the both of you.

You hesitated for a moment, but for once everything was clear to you—how you feel, what you should do.

So you threw all caution to the wind and rested your head on Riki’s shoulder, a quiet “thanks” making its way past your lips.

Though you might’ve not seen it,  Riki bit back a smile in hopes that it would quell the pounding in his chest. Slowly, he reached for your hand and gently intertwined your fingers together.

Riki’s voice was barely above a whisper, it was only for you to hear the smile in his words.

“Took you long enough.”

[papurgaatika]

Nothing Fucks With My Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x F! Reader

A/N: This got so out of hand so fast, but it is FINALLY here. This is for all my Joel girlies with crazy daddy issues, I see you and I get you. I really didn’t mean for the first half of this fic to be so angst-filled, but I think the smut is a good trade-off for it in the end. AS ALWAYS humongous shoutout to my beloved beta readers @joelsdagger and @carlynkurin yall kill me with your comments and I love yall so much. And yes the title is a Hozier lyric, I love that guy. Remember that TLOU is created by a zionist so please look at the resources at the end of this fic and in my bio on ways to donate and educate yourself!! Tags: daddy issues, minor misogyny, minor body shaming, angst, Joel wants to beat up reader’s dad, age gap, daddy kink, pillow humping, exhibitionism if you squint, oral (f receiving), Joel Miller’s filthy mouth, breeding kink, cumplay kinda, protective Joel, no outbreak AU, no use of Y/N Word Count: 5.3k

Visiting your parents with Joel for the first time brings up some bad memories. And lets you make a few good ones too.

(aka Joel hates your parents and fucks you in your childhood bedroom)

Your fingers stilled over your phone, minor panic setting into your bones when you got a text from your mother asking you to come over for dinner with her and your father. Now you loved your parents and you think they loved you too, in whatever weird way they showed it, but your relationship with them was never amazing. They were overbearing when you lived with them, always expecting the most of you but never recognizing what you actually did, like you were never going to be enough in their eyes. You were a grown woman, a degree in hand, and jobs lined up, but with rent at an all-time high and entry-level positions barely paying enough, you had sucked it up for as long as you could and continued to live with them. The passive-aggressive remarks about their friends’ kids moving out and about your degree essentially being a waste barely mattered anymore, you kept your head down and didn't engage unless you really had to. Your daydreams of moving out and being independent dwindled a little with every snide comment your father made, but you were living rent-free so you didn't say anything. 

But then you met Joel, and Joel couldn’t see a single flaw in you, his perfect angel. You weren’t even planning on dating anyone, especially not someone this much older than you, but there was just something about him that drew you in. You could still remember the day you met him like yesterday. You had been driving home after taking a much-needed weekend to go see one of your friends from college and managed to run over a nail and saw your tire pressure going down. You had pulled over and contemplated calling your father, but the idea of him driving out to lecture you on being a better driver and why he thinks women shouldn't drive just gave you a headache. So, being the self-determined woman you were, you got out of your car, popped on a YouTube video on how to change a tire, and knelt next to your car. 

Granted, the video wasn’t helping you out much, and your headache was getting worse under the blistering Austin sun, and you felt the tears start to brim in your eyes as you rested your head against the door of your car. You were seconds away from sucking it up and calling your father when you heard a gentle, “Do you need any help, ma’am?” You’re not one to usually take help from men, especially not random men on the side of the road, but your head was pounding and your eyes were red, and something about his voice just put you at ease. So you sigh and nod, explaining how you really did try to change it, but it just wasn't working and he shoots you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. “I’ve got it for ya don’t worry, it’s just a tire ‘ain't worth those tears.” 

You stand to the side as he kneels down to take a look at the damage before standing back up and grabbing the tools from your trunk. His arms were working on unscrewing the bolts of your (now useless) tire, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. His sleeves were pulled taut over his biceps and beads of sweat were rolling down his tanned skin. You watched as the fabric of his shirt clung to his belly and his gray-streaked hair grew damp from the heat, finding yourself unconsciously biting your lip when your eyes linger on the veins that strained under his arms. He lets out a soft grunt when he gets off the ground and turns to look at you. “I don't think it’ll be safe to drive on your spare sweetheart, let me call you a tow.” 

“Oh! No, it’s okay really,” your eyes go wide and your brows furrow as you try to figure out how much it would cost and who you would even call to come pick you up, but he’s already dialing a number into his phone and telling them they owe him a favor before hanging up and giving you another smile. “You really didn’t have to do that-” Your words falter because you realize you don’t know his name.

“Joel. And I couldn't let ya deal with it yourself, my mama raised me better than that.” You blush softly at his words, genuinely grateful to have met him. You let out a breath, your tears having subsided and your heart rate finally calming down before sitting back down on the ground, fully expecting Joel to walk back to his truck and head out, but are instead met with a frown when you look back over at him. “Can't just leave you here like this sweetheart,” he sighs looking down at you, “Let me take ya to the garage at least, just so I know you’re safe.” 

Quite honestly, you weren’t used to someone treating you with this much care and attentiveness, you weren’t sure what to do with it. But the worried look in his eyes and the warmth of his voice have you nodding, taking his hand and getting into his truck to go to the garage with him. You sit in surprisingly comfortable silence for the next few minutes until you decide to be bold and ask for his number “Well, just in case my tire pops again” Your words are matched with a small grin playing on your lips, and JoeL, well joel was a goner the moment you had said those words. 

You and Joel had moved relatively fast, only being together for about eight months before you were packing your stuff and moving in with him. He had heard all about your parents before then. He saw the tears that fell after a fight with them, heard the words they threw at you while you recounted to him, and he could never imagine treating someone, especially not someone as perfect as you, like that. He could recount how many times you would curl up into him, breathing in his scent to try and calm down while he ran a soothing hand over your back and told you it was going to be okay. So it was no surprise that he had a few choice words when you mentioned that your mother had asked you both to come over. “Dunno how civil I’ll manage to be, sweet girl” he groans into your shoulder, arm draped over your middle as y'all lay in bed. You giggle softly and tilt your head to the side so it’s leaning on top of his slightly. 

“Gonna have to be,” you catch his fingers in your own, running circles over the rough skin to soothe yourself. “I haven’t seen them since I moved out... I just want them to be okay with us I guess.” A sigh leaves your lips when you think about how displeased they used to be about anything that you ever did growing up, that displeasure skyrocketing when you started seeing Joel. 

You feel him still your fingers, taking your hand and wrapping it with his own, before shifting to look at you fully. “I can’t promise they’ll be okay, sweet girl, but just know I’m in it with you forever okay?” He brings your hand to his lips and presses a tender kiss to your knuckles and you feel your eyes start to water as you nod. “Now, we don’t need to think ‘bout it for a while, lets get some sleep yeah?” You curl into his side and mumble out a soft okay before letting yourself drift off, feeling the weight of his arm draped around you. 

The rest of the week passed with relative ease, you were busy with work and Joel had been doting over you more than usual to keep your mind off of things. Eventually, Friday rolls around and you find yourself in Joel’s truck fidgeting with the rings on your fingers, heart pounding in your chest. You’re staring out the window lost in the endless stream of anxiety that is your brain, until you feel Joel's hand, warm and heavy, running small circles on your knee. You let your hand rest on top of his, basking in the intimacy of it all before he pulls up to your old house. You can feel your breathing start to quicken, chewing on the inside of your lip, before looking over at him. “Wait, baby, can we go back, I can’t do this. I’m not ready,” your words were tumbling over each other, panic clear on your face. 

“Hey, hey, look at me angel. It’s gonna be okay. We can do this okay?” His hands are on your cheeks making you look at him, and you subconsciously lean into his touch. “I don’t like them any more than you do, but I’ll try to be on my best behavior, and if we go in and you wanna leave at any time, we’re outta here okay?” He breathes out a small sigh of relief when you nod, a small giggle leaving your lips at his words. You take one last steadying breath before throwing open the door of the truck, smoothing out your outfit, and letting the flowers you had picked up for your mother rest in your arms. 

You knock at the door and feel your nerves setting in again, but Joel's hand is holding yours and you feel like he’s pulling you back down to the ground again, keeping you steady. You’re both met with a loud laugh and are pulled in for a hug when your mother opens the door. “Oh! Sweetheart, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! You certainly look like you’re eating well.” You did not miss those passive-aggressive comments at all, so you hand her the flowers with a tight-lipped smile, mumbling something about just having more time to make the food you enjoy, 

And being the attentive boyfriend that he is, Joel senses your discomfort immediately. He turns on his southern charm and throws one of those gorgeous smiles at your mother, complimenting her cooking and how good it smells in here. “If her cooking is any indicator, I’ll be asking for a to-go bag tonight.” Your mother just blushes and goes on about how her food isn’t that good but she hopes he likes it. You grin, watching the two of them interact helping your nerves dissipate slightly. Joel was always a charmer, that’s why you were drawn to him, he knew how to make you feel safe which was something you had seldom felt in this house. 

You’re sitting on one of the chairs, head leaning against his shoulder while he laughs at something your mother says. It finally feels like you can breathe like you don't have to put your guard up because Joel does it for you. And then suddenly it’s like the floor is being ripped out from under you as your father makes his way downstairs. It was like you were 16 again begging to get his approval for anything, waiting for the day someone would whisk you out of that house. You sit up straight and move your head from Joel’s shoulder and let your eyes dart to his, and he is visibly angry. Joel knows about your father, the fights and the screaming matches, the way you were so similar it made you sick, and he just could never understand how someone would ever treat their child that way.

Now your father isn’t necessarily short but Joel was looming over him, eyes burning daggers in his direction as you both stood up to greet him. Joel’s hand envelopes your fathers in a grip that looks like it could break a bone and you give your father a curt nod and however much of a smile you can muster up with a quiet “hi dad.” only to be met with a grunt like you weren’t even worth sparing a few words to say hello to before muttering and going to sit on the couch. “It's alright Joel… he’s just like that baby... let it go.” you manage to press a kiss to his cheek to let him know you’re alright, it wasn’t like you were expecting the world's warmest greeting anyway. 

Joel tries to let it go. He really tries for you. But it is so hard being nice to someone who hurt the person you love. So he brings up Sarah, not out of spite really, he just loves to talk about his girl. “Comes up to visit almost every month, jobs got her real busy though,” he says, taking a sip of beer, eyes focussed on your father across the table. “Couldn't go without seein’ her.” Joel’s face immediately brightens up when he talks about Sarah, the pride he feels for his girl sparkling behind his eyes. 

Your father is not a man who is good at hiding his emotions, anger, and resentment showing clearly on his face. “‘M sure it’s nice to have a daughter who amounts to somethin’,” you feel your blood go cold for a moment, tears stinging in your eyes as you duck your head down to look at your plate very carefully. Joel’s hand is immediately squeezing yours, bringing you back down to earth, back to him. You take a deep breath to respond, but before you even get the chance, Joel’s voice is hurdling at your father. 

“Sure is. You’d understand what it would feel like if ya made any effort to be in her life.” The silence in the room is eerie. You cannot remember a single time in your life when your father didn’t have something to say, something to hurl at you in a fit of anger, only to claim it never happened after the fact. You feel Joel squeeze your hand again as your father shoves a forkful of food into his mouth, not making eye contact with either of you. Your mother just looks between Joel and your father silently, apparently still unwilling to stand up for you. You press your eyes shut for a moment at the absurdity of it all; the absurdity of bringing Joel to meet your parents, of him trying to defend you, at the idea that you had truly believed that your parents would have changed. You knew better than to hope for things like that. 

The rest of the dinner passes in relative silence, save for a few questions your mother asks Joel about his work and a minor argument that ensues because Joel mentions his love for the UT Longhorns after your father brings up his love for the Aggies. You roll your eyes at Joel when he throws up the Hook ‘Em hands before you get up to wash the dishes, only stopping when Joel tugs at your wrist. You look down at where he’s sitting, eyebrows raised at you because you're well aware that washing the dishes is his job “Baby it’s okay, I'll just do them today”

Joel just shakes his head and pulls at your wrist again, essentially pulling you back into your chair. “Don’t think so angel, you know that’s my job,” you giggle with a small nod of your head before the both of you turn to look at your father who is scoffing from his seat. “‘S there a problem?” 

Your father rolls his eyes at Joel, clearly still upset about how dinner went. “Just think you should let the woman do the woman’s job, ain't yours to do.” Your father barks that out with such ease that Joel thinks he sees red for a second. He grew up helping his mamma around the house when he was younger and became even more fond of cooking and cleaning when Sarah was born, so it is safe to say that he doesn’t agree with the idea that housework is a “woman's job.”

You know how Joel feels about this but your father is getting irritated again and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to take another argument between them, so you’re trying to grab the plates from Joel again. But stubborn as he is, Joel does not let up, especially if it means letting your father think that he’s right. “I don’t think so, sweet girl. Ain’t the 1950’s anymore, if you’re too pussy to wash a dish wouldn’t consider you a real man.” Your mouth falls open slightly, and you try to bite back your smile when your father huffs and gets up from the table muttering something about not knowing a real man if it bit him in the ass. 

You finish helping your mother put leftovers in the fridge, save for a bag filled to the brim with leftovers for Joel, and catch a glimpse of Joel smirking happily to himself while the sink runs hot over his hands. You sneak behind him and press a kiss on his shoulder blade, letting your hands snake around his waist. “I’ll be honest baby, kinda hot watching you tell him off like that..” You hear him huff out a laugh before he shuts the water off and spins you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your lips before letting his mouth drop to your neck. You giggle as he nips at your skin lightly, but push him off gently after a moment. “They’re gonna see you, Mr. Miller, gonna get me in trouble.”

“Is that so?” his hands are on your waist, prints from the water on your shirt. He grins down at you, eyes glinting with mischief. “let ‘em see baby, not their little girl anymore, all mine now.” He presses another kiss to your neck, finding the spot right above your pulse point and drawing a small mewl from between your lips, before standing up straight and letting go of your waist, a grin plastered to his face. 

“You’re an absolute menace, you know that?” You squint your eyes at him, poking a finger into his chest, eliciting a laugh to tumble from his mouth. You give him a small kiss again and find yourself smiling into it. “‘M ready to go home now baby,” you murmur against the plush of his lips, wanting to feel his hands on your body again. Joel simply nods and grabs your purse for you while you say an awkward goodbye to your parents. You take your purse from his hands and open the door only to be met with the sight of rain. You were used to how quickly Austin would flood when a storm hit, you had grown up with it, but you hadn’t checked the weather and this was certainly dampening your plans to go home. 

You turn around to face Joel, eyebrows furrowed and before either of you can say anything your mother is swooping in. “Well, now I cannot send you two out in this weather! I have your old room set up still, and Joel can take the guest room!” Your eyes lock with Joel's, taking in the look of shock on his face. You should have assumed that your parents would be weird about letting Joel stay in the same room as you, despite living with him, but you were still caught off guard. 

You say your goodnights and thank yous, your father’s grip on Joel’s hand dangerously tight, before showing Joel up to the guest room giggling about having to be apart for the night. “Dunno how I’ll be able to sleep without you angel,” he groans sitting down on the old guest bed. 

You roll your eyes and kiss the scar on his nose “Sure you’ll be okay for one night cowboy, I’ll see you in the morning, ‘kay?” He just scrunches up his nose in response and plants a few more kisses on your lips before letting you walk out to your room. You can hear him exaggerate a sigh as you close the door and walk back to your old bedroom. You grin to yourself before walking into your room, taking in the sight of what used to be yours. Your hands skim over your dresser, the drawers mostly empty from when you packed in haste to move in with Joel, dried petals from the last bouquet of flowers he had gotten you still sitting in a small jewelry box. Pink sheets, pink pillows, and at least five stuffed animals still sit in their perfect setting on your bed, and a pang of guilt for leaving them bubbles up inside of you. You sigh and pull out an old shirt from the drawer and slip into it, foregoing pants and just staying in your panties. 

You spread out on the bed making futile attempts to fall asleep. It wasn’t like you needed Joel to be next to you, but you missed his hand draped around your waist and the way his body was a literal furnace to the point where you had to take the blankets off. Your mind cannot stop thinking about him. The way his hand was on the small of your back when you came into the house, the way he stood up for you when your father was speaking, the taste of his lips when he pulled you in for one last kiss before you left his room. You let your fingers trail down your body, sneaking into your panties and letting out a shaky sigh when you feel the slick pooling between your legs, eyes falling shut for a moment before situating a pillow between your legs. You press your face softly into one of the stuffed animals Joel had given you, the smell of him just barely lingering in it, and start to grind your hips down on the pillow. Your breath hitches when you feel the pressure on your clit through your panties, moans muffled by the bunny as you grind your hips down chasing your pleasure. Your eyes are still shut imagining Joel, lost in your pleasure until you hear a low whistle behind you, making your head whip around, your heart pounding a mile a minute. 

And there he is. Joel is leaning against your door, when he got in is beyond you, his eyes are hungry and locked in on you, eyebrows raising when you stop to turn around. “Why’re you stopping, baby? Go on, put on a show for me.” Your mouth opens to answer, but he’s cutting you off with a small tsk and a shake of his head “Nuh-uh. Don't get shy on me now, sweet thing, keep going.” His voice leaves no room for discussion, and his hands are on your waist pulling you flush with the pillow again. You whine when his hands leave your body, and try to turn around to grab at him. He pins your hips back down to the pillow, a low noise leaving his throat. “Like you were before, wanna see what you used to do when you miss me” 

A whimper leaves your mouth and you lay your head back down on the bed, pussy grinding on the pillow again. You move your hips back and forth, breathing becoming heavier as you angle your hips a bit higher and you bite back a whine as you clench around nothing “Joel please-” you plead, looking up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes,  “want you to touch me,” A small shudder movies through your body as you whine at him again. 

He just shakes his head at you, eyes not leaving your clothed cunt, “Not yet baby.” He brings his hands back to your waist and traces small circles into the skin just above your panties. 

  “but-” You keep grinding but throw a pout at him trying to get his decision to sway. 

He swats at your ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but enough to be a good warning “You arguing with me baby?” His eyebrows are raised, the look in his eyes not one that wants to deal with a brat tonight. 

You shake your head with a pitiful no sir and keep grinding on the pillow, your panties fully drenched by now. You feel your hips start to stutter as your climax catches up with you, a sheen of sweat covering your body. Your stomach is clenching and your breaths are ragged, “Joel- fuck gonna cum, oh god- fuck-” You babble at him, words muffled, legs trembling lightly, and eyes falling shut as you’re hit with your orgasm, face falling into the stuffed bunny again. 

You try to steady your breaths after coming down from your high, eyes still closed until you feel his hands sneak around your waist and under your shirt, grabbing your tits softly. “Fuck, you’re such a filthy girl, probably did this all the time when you thought about me? Desperate fucking thing.” You groan into his touch, and arch your back into him when he pulls you flush against his chest. He grabs at the hem of your shirt, before pulling it off and tossing it to one of the corners of the room, fingers playing with your sensitive nipples. You let out a squeak when he tugs at them before he lets go and presses his hand over your mouth. “Quiet. Gonna wake up your parents, or is that what you want, hmm?” His hand dips into your panties, rough fingers swirling over your clit “wanna get caught in the room you grew up in?” 

A whine leaves your mouth, muffled behind his hand, as you try to grind into his fingers. He brings his hand back to your nipple, flicking at the nub and making you jump. “Joel please- need it” You plead as he circles your clit. 

Joel pauses, drawing a pathetic whimper to leave your lips. “Came already and want another one? Greedy fucking thing” You nod at his words before yelping when he throws you down onto the bed and pulls you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He throws your legs over his shoulders and you buck your hips into the air, trying to catch his touch. He rests his head on the plush of your thigh, eyes on yours, waiting for you to ask for what you want. 

Your eyes are pleading with his, hoping that you can get out of having to beg by batting your lashes at him. “I’ll be so good for you, please.” your lip trembles a bit, hips still moving in the air, trying to get into his mouth. He relents and his lips press against your thighs, his stubble scratching at it gently, before pressing a kiss to your clit, making you jump softly. “Fuckk thank you.” Your head falls back as his tongue sweeps over your weeping cunt, his arm pinning your hips down to keep you from bucking into his face. 

His tongue dips into your slit, making your back arch off the bed as your hands fist in his hair. His lips wrap around your clit, and your hand clamps over your mouth to stop the obscene noises you were making from leaving it. His fingers tease your entrance before slipping into you and thrusting in and out at the same pace he was flicking his tongue. You feel your thighs start to tremble and clench around his head, your grip on his hair growing tighter as you feel your second orgasm hit you, red hot in the bottom of your spine, and up to the tingling in your fingers. Joel’s pace does not slow down as he coaxes you through it, hitting all the right spots. “Fuck look at her baby.” He says pulling his fingers out of you and spreading your slick over your pussy. “Fucking weeping for me. I’ll give her what she needs don't worry” 

His fingers press against your lips, and you let them into your mouth, tasting yourself off of him and groaning at the taste. He drags his spit-covered fingers down your chest, relishing in the fucked out look on your face. He takes off his jeans letting his cock spring free, dumb bastard going commando at your parents' house, and spits into his hand before fisting his cock in your line of sight. You whine at him, pouting your lips at him, cunt dripping down your thighs onto your bed. He chuckles at you and brings his hands to your waist, before slipping his cock into you, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. “Look at that sweet girl, taking me so well.” He moves so his cock is buried to the hilt in your cunt, the coarse hair that surrounds him pressing into your pelvis. 

You try to rock against him, to gain any friction. “Joel please move... please I want it” You plead with him, hands moving to wrap around his wrist. “Gonna be so good for you Daddy, please” And that does him in. He lets out a groan and thrusts into you with enough force to move your headboard. His cock is hitting you in just the right spot, filling you up almost too much. 

You feel yourself clench around him as his hand tightens around your waist, one of your legs wrapped around his back, pulling him in deeper. “Gonna fill you up so good angel,” he says as your pussy clenches around him like it was begging for his cum. “Make you all mine, show everyone who you belong to,” his thrusts are growing messier, and you can feel another orgasm building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s almost too much. Your toes curl and you meet his thrusts as you let out a pathetic slew of pleasepleasepleaseplease before you feel him cumming inside you with a soft pant of your name. You feel him pull out of you slowly, his cock replaced with his fingers. “Said I was gonna make you mine, gotta make sure it takes.” His fingers collect the cum that leaks out of you in the most obscene way and pushes it back into you, as a shaky breath leaves your lips at the depravity of his words. 

“Fuck thank you, baby,” You manage to get out after what feels like an eternity of recovering from your orgasm. Joel shoots you a sleepy grin, before wrapping his clean hand around yours and laying his head down on your chest, looking up at you with love in his eyes. 

“I should be thanking you, sweet girl. Did so fucking good for me” You grin and look down at him with sleepy eyes and run a hand through his hair. 

“You know you gotta get back to the guest room right?” You ponder, realizing the situation that you were in. The idea of your mother waking up to find you naked and stuffed full of Joel’s cum was horrifying. 

Joel just grins back up at you, pressing a kiss to the underside of your breast before pushing himself up off your bed and peeking at the window. “Dunno baby.. Rain stopped a while ago, I'm ready to just get outta here.” He raises his eyebrows at you, sliding back into his jeans as you drop your arm over your face with a dopey smile playing across your lips. 

“So long as you carry me to the truck, I'm game, baby” You bite your lip and smile up at him as he tosses your dress at you before he scoops you up and tromps down the stairs quietly and puts you into the passenger seat before getting in and pulling out of the driveway. “Thank you for being there tonight baby.. I love you.”

Joel just smiles at you, half asleep in his passenger’s seat, and runs a hand over your knee before grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it. “Love you too angel. Don’t plan on ever making you come up here again though” You just giggle and lace your fingers through his, extremely content to just spend the rest of your days with Joel, not worried about your parents.

A/N: From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free READ: This account stands with Palestine unequivocally, and so— I require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this. DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.  Thank you for reading, and free Palestine

[tea-cat-arts]

Ranking mxtx couples by whether or not I think they'd be good parents

(I'm 90% sure I'm forgetting someone)

Yep, next question (S)-

Wangxian: tried and tested good dads. I wish them luck with the whole “trying to get wwx pregnant” thing 

They have some shit to work through, but after that I think they'd be fine (A)-

Ling Wen/ Bai Jin: if we're just going off the original publication, I would put them in a much lower tier, but since the revised edition added that thing about them raising orphans together and said orphans turning out alright before unfortunate circumstances, I'm putting them up here. I think they'll be alright once they work through the miscommunication

Xiao Xingchen/ Song Lan: They obviously have a lot of trauma they're working through, but I'd like to think they and A-Qing will be a loving family in the long run 

One of them would be a good parent, the other wouldn't be a bad parent (B)-

Jiang Yanli/ Jin Zixuan: there's no canon reason for me putting them this low. Jin Zixuan just gives off a mediocre parent vibe to me (and we all know Jiang Yanli is the best)

Yushipei: Yushi Huang has good mom energy, and Pei Ming has been shown to be a not terrible mentor. I'd want the misogyny fully beaten out of him with a mace before I'd think he should have kids of his own though 

Lang Qianqiu/ Little Guy: at the very least, they're making sure Guzi is fed, clothed, washed, vaccinated, and has access to education. Neither of them know what they're doing, but I think Little Guy is good at faking it. I wish them luck in their upcoming custody battle  

You know what, surprise me/ I'll hear you out (C)-

Bingqiu: My first instinct is “no, do not bring kids into this,” but then I remembered tharnShen Qingqiu has a surprisingly decent track record? Like, Ning Yingying and Ming Fan both turned out a lot more health than they did in the original novel, and though I wouldn't call him in a good place, Binghe is doing a lot better than Bingge. The wild card for me here is Luo Binghe because I have no idea how he'd be with kids

Quanyin: Yin Yu had a decent track record until he was pushed into snapping. I think rn, he needs a couple centuries of being a babygirl before he's ready to parent again. No idea how Quan Yizhen would do though 

Born to “dual income, no kids, rich uncles/aunts” (D)-

Fengqing: Feng Xin is canonically a bad dad. I know he's working on it, but it is what it is. Mu Qing has been shown to be decent with kids, but I think he’d have a melt down if he had to deal with the mess constantly. 

Hualian: I mean, Xie Lian has raised three kids at this point and one of them became a god, another became state preceptor and then sorta complicit in a genocide, and one became god AND committed genocide + he babysat a ghost king for months and didn't even realize that's what he was because it was a miracle if he remembered to feed him… so, a mixed bag. Hua Cheng may be schrodinger’s child hater, but I'm intrigued by the idea of him raising kids just because I want to know how his own childhood would influence his parenting abilities. They should probably just stick to babysitting for now though 

Mingling: Liu Mingyan is too busy writing gay porn to be dealing with kids, and I just can't imagine Sha Hualing as a mom

Please don't bring a kid into this mess (F)-

Beefleaf: Do I need to explain this one?

Mobeishang: Shang Qinghua should not be put in any position where he has to teach someone about consent (Binghe’s early attempts at flirting being a prime example of why that's a bad idea). I also think Mobei Jun is still working on the whole “why hitting people is not cool” thing. 

QiJiu: I think the original timeline is a prime example of how they're just not in a place to be raising kids 

Jun Wu/ Mei Nianqing: Xie Lian would like a refund on his adopted father figures. They had one kid and he only made it to age 20 because he was cursed to not die

[akawifeyy]

reputation | smau (CS55)

description: ...and in the death of her reputation, she'd never felt more alive. the story of y/n l/n, and how one scandal altered her life forever.

tropes: us against the world, reinvention, age gap (25 and 30), mv33!ex, popstar!reader

face claim: sabrina carpenter

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing, hate speech & misogyny

| note: currently clowning as i wait for the release of reputation (taylor's version), so i wrote a fic based on it!

comments (9103):

@ user1: diabolical coming from a man who looks like sid the sloth 🤨

@ user2: I don't listen to Y/N L/N's music, but she deserves more credit than what Max is giving her.

-> @ user3: I agree, you don't get famous from nothing. she put in a lot of work and Max is invalidating that

@ user4: no way bro is reducing her to just a pretty face when he lacks that 🗣️

@ yourusername: was i just a fool?

tagged: @ yourbffusername

comments (3742):

@ user5: We love you Y/N 🫶

@ user6: don't listen to the haters y/n we absolutely adore you

@ yourbffusername: my flawless queen 👑

@ user7: Everything Max Verstappen says about you is true, you sound like a dying whale every time you open your mouth

comment deleted by @ yourusername

Interview with Max Verstappen (2025):

After being asked about his opinion on his ex — Y/N L/N —'s newest single, Max Verstappen grew visibly agitated and attempted to change the subject. When forced to reply, he scathingly responded, "She used me as a stepping stool to reach the next level of fame, and she got what she wanted. The past is in the past, and I don't care about her anymore."

comments (29458):

@ user3: Insinuating that Y/N slept with him to become famous is repulsive, and I hope Max gets what's coming for him

-> @ user8: didn't he literally cheat on y/n?? 😭

@ user9: "I don't care about her anymore" the eyes never lie chico, we know how you really feel

@ user10: I've never been a MV33 fan and this just adds fuel to the fire.

@ user11: can someone PLEASE explain to me what's going on? I know Max and Y/N were together at one point but I got grounded and had my phone taken away for a loooong time so I don't even know anything anymore 🙂‍↔️

-> @ user8: @ popculturetea just made an amazing timeline explaining everything!

@ yourusername's Private Instagram Story

@ popculturetea's Timeline

@ f1ynlover: mama y papa, mama y papa

tagged: @ carlossainzjr, @ yourusername

comments (4852):

@ user12: I bet Y/N doesn't wanna touch another F1 driver with a ten foot pole, but this pairing would absolutely devour 😜

-> @ user8: he would 100% match her freak

@ yourusername: i do love chili peppers 🌶️

@ yourusername: we're balling not bawling

tagged: @ yourproducer, @ carlossainzjr

comments (3832):

@ user13: OMG

@ yourproducer: Next big song is on the way!

@ user14: Carlos Sainz tagged is crazyyyy

-> @ user4: he's definitely the mystery man 🫣

Text messages between Carlos and Y/N (2025):

@ grillthegrid: The difference between Max Verstappen (c. 2022) and Max Verstappen (c. 2025). Crazy

tagged: @ f1, @ maxverstappen

comments (49325):

@ user15: NOT THE OFFICIAL GRILL THE GRID ACC PIPING IN ON THIS DRAMA

-> @ user16: it's the loss of y/n effect 🤗

@ user17: Cheating on Y/N will do that to you lmaoo

@ user18: Sid the sloth ahh 🥱🥱

@ carlossainzjr: F1 drivers were given a second chance, and I wasn't going to screw it up. Más que feliz de ser su pimiento picante para siempre. Happy 2 months, mi amor.

(More than happy to be her spicy pepper forever.)

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (7392):

@ yourusername: you're so much better <3

@ user1: soooo cute 🥲🥰

@ user19: Spicy pepper and firecracker, a dream made in heaven

-> @ user20: They're perfect for each other omg 🥹

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

you in my eyes [5] l Javier Peña

Summary:  you weren't friends and you certainly weren't planning anything more together

Warnings:  smut, fingering, kissing, enemies (?) to lovers, misogyny and sexism at work, some bad language, Murphy shows up, alcohol

A/N: I don't know how many people read this series, but I wanted to add another chapter. Maybe I can make someone happy with it.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[previous chapter]

[masterlist]

You turned down the TV and sat up on the couch, someone was knocking on the door. It was already late Friday evening, which you decided to spend at home. After Messina announced that O'Connell had been urgently called to the States, you felt calmer. That's why you didn’t go to any pub or place like that.

The knock repeated and you finally approached the door.

"Javier?" the man on the other side smiled “What are you doing here?”

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, a little confused.

"No. But it's late. Is something wrong?"

He raised his hand, in which he held the bottle of whiskey, and waved it, smiling slyly.

"I won the bet," he boasted.

You crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against the door frame, looking at him with interest. Peña was pleased to note that you were wearing a green baggy t-shirt, probably from the department's supply, and your hair was still damp from the shower. You looked nice.

"There was a bet, back at the office. The guys were betting on when O'Connell would give up and come home." Javier explained. "And I won."

"You bet he'd leave right now?"

"No. I said someone would punch him in the face."

You burst out laughing. And even Peña laughed, still holding his bottle in front of you.

"We're partners, so you deserve it, too."

"Oh! How generous of you! You flatter me, Agent Peña."

You bit your lip as if you were thinking about something, then gently pushed the door open, nodding slightly. 

He entered the room, bringing with him the smell of cologne and cigarette smoke.

"I wasn't expecting guests." You announced, pulling glasses out of the cabinet.

"I was wondering if I'd find you home." He mumbled, unscrewing the bottle and giving you a furtive glance. "Didn't you want to go out somewhere?"

You put the glasses down on the coffee table with a clatter and sat down on the couch, pulling your legs under you. "I wasn't in the mood. I think I'll skip places like that for a while."

Javier poured the amber liquid into the glasses and handed one to you, sitting next to you.

"¡Salud!" He raised his glass in a toast, and you did the same. "What are we drinking to?"

"Peace of mind." You replied. "Unless you have other suggestions?"

"Naah. That's good too."

You tipped the glasses down and Javier filled them again.

"Nobody's waiting for you?" you asked as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and lit one. "I think you'd find better company than me."

"Oh! I definitely would!" Javier chuckled, blowing a wisp of smoke from his mouth. "Don't tell anyone I came here, you'll only ruin my reputation."

You laughed and covered your eyes with your hand as if you were thinking about something. "God! Can you imagine that?" Javier raised his eyebrows expectantly. "What the girls in the office say about you, what the guys say about me... And what would they say if we started sleeping together? Damn! Loise would go gray in an hour."

"Murphy would beat the shit out of me." Javier stated, sipping his drink. "He probably thinks you're too good for me."

"And he's right." you shrugged "I could be with the commander, but I'd trade him for a simple agent? Sorry, Peña, no chance."

"Fuck, you're a menace." he snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

It was nice. He sat with you, talked about work and life. Melancholic stories from your past life, no plans for the future, because where you were you didn't really plan anything. Neither of you delved deeper, because why would you, it was just a friendly conversation over a Friday night drink.

After the third glass, he noticed your legs, exactly when you got up to go to the bathroom. The skimpy shorts gave Javier room for imagination. His eyes, dark as night, followed you involuntarily, and then he cleared his throat.

The alcohol was coursing through his veins, he felt hot, so he took off his jacket and threw it on the armchair next to him, rested his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. He didn't even hear you come back. Only the feeling of you sitting down next to him, the smell of your shampoo caught his attention.

"I'm a terrible housekeeper." you stated finishing your drink, Javier raised his head looking at you with interest "I don't have anything to eat, nothing I could give you." you pouted and he chuckled.

"Please, hermosa." he sighed "If I wanted to eat something, I would take you out for dinner. I have a hard time believing you cook anything yourself, to be honest."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise "You're suggesting that..."

"I'm not suggesting anything." he interrupted you and instinctively placed his hand on your thigh, stroking it gently "You just work a lot, like me."

"Maybe if we had someone to cook for sometime..." you pondered, completely not noticing his gesture, which only made Javier not withdraw his hand "Murphy and Connie, they definitely cook."

"Not as often as they both might claim." he raised an eyebrow and you laughed "But Connie is good at it. Anyway, you'll find out tomorrow."

"It's nice that they invited me, I guess..." you lowered your eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed "I mean... We don't know each other that well, right?"

Peña frowned.

"What the hell are you talking about? If it wasn't for you, they would still be collecting our fragments from the surrounding trees by now."

"Don't say that."

"But it's true." he moved closer to you, his hand moved higher, now resting on your hip, his thumb stroking your body hidden under your shirt. Neither of you felt embarrassed by this, maybe it was because of the drinks you had, or maybe it was that night. "You're doing a great job here. Everyone can see it."

"They think I'm a slut." you mumbled almost incomprehensibly and Javier had to tilt his head slightly to hear your words "No matter what I do, I'm labeled an easy girl. You know... I try not to worry about it, people will always talk, but sometimes... Sometimes it hurts."

He grabbed your chin and lifted it slightly. Beautiful brown eyes stared at you intently. "The most important thing is what you think about yourself. Double standards suck, you said so yourself and you were right. Surely if I say you're the coolest chica in the office, it won't change anything, right?"

You rolled your eyes. "Please..."

"And you have the prettiest legs." Peña added quickly, you chuckled "Your smile is also very pretty. And when you're excited about something, your eyes widen and shine so nicely." you snorted, your hand closing over his, which was still holding your chin. "And when you yelled at me the first time, I got hard."

The smile disappeared from your lips, which slightly widened in surprise. You fell silent, both of you a little surprised by this bold confession.

"Javier..."

His name was quieter than a whisper, but he heard it clearly. He leaned even closer. Warm breath brushed your lips.

"This is really a very bad idea." you said with difficulty.

"You can stop me, hermosa." His lips lightly brushed yours, you closed your eyelids, inhaling the air.

"Did I really make you hard?"

"Mhmm..." you didn't see the smile of satisfaction on his lips. "They call it difficult working conditions."

It was a split second and you felt his lips on yours. All dilemmas disappeared, and when you kissed him back he knew he was gone. Your hands instantly found their way to his face, your fingers tangled in soft hair and you pulled him closer, parting your lips.

An invitation that Javier read flawlessly. His tongue slipped into your mouth, you tasted the whiskey, and that was even more captivating for him. The kisses were intense, deep as if you both could finally give vent to what had been brewing inside you for a long time. You felt him squeeze your buttock and you moaned, but his tongue effectively muffled you. So you didn't wait for anything more, in an instant you slid onto his lap and clung to his body. Javier felt your breasts under the thin T-shirt, you didn't have a bra. He knew that, of course he had already glanced at your breasts, but when he felt it…

You pulled away from his lips for a moment and looked into his dark eyes.

"You can back out at any time. No hard feelings." you said. "I don't want you to feel..."

"Used?" Javier laughed quietly. "I guess I'm the one who should be saying things like that, don't you think?" his hands gripped your buttocks tighter, making you feel the bulge in his jeans.

"Oh!"

"That's a clear answer, I guess."

He lifted himself up and his lips captured yours again. The excitement grew in your lower abdomen with every passing second, with every kiss and touch. His strong hands shamelessly slid under your shirt, first stroking your back, and after a moment he grabbed your breasts. He kneaded your tits, rolled your nipples between his fingers, and you moaned as much as his tongue in your mouth would allow you.

"Take it off." he ordered, tugging at your shirt.

"Do it yourself."

"You're something else, you know that?"

You bit your lip, smiling obediently, raising your arms up so the shirt could be removed. Javier kissed you the second your lips peeked out from behind your collar. Damn, he was a threat to you.

Large hands explored your body, testing every inch of it, teasing every nerve. Could you want more? God, you didn't have to ask, he wanted to give it all to you.

When he slid his hand into your shorts, you gasped loudly.

"Fuck, you've got a real pool here, sweetheart." he mumbled, smiling slyly. "Would you like me to take care of that?"

A nod.

"Words, hermosa. Just words."

"Yes, please."

He ran his fingers over your folds, hot and wet, knowing perfectly well that he would be able to slide them inside without a problem. And so he did. And when you threw your head back, sighing quietly, he marveled at how wonderful the sight was.

Hot lips closed over one of your nipples, sucking and teasing with his tongue, fingers moving in and out, searching for that spot that could take you apart.

"Shit, Javier..." you moaned.

You clenched your fingers in his hair, hips rising slowly and rhythmically as he finger fucked you. Why did this have to feel so good? You couldn't remember the last time you felt like this, when someone had made you feel so...

"Oh fuck!"

"I think I found it." Javier chuckled, kissing your cleavage, your skin was slightly salty from sweat but still smelled of soft soap and you "I'm holding you, hermosa, take what you need."

He crossed his fingers with his thumb massaging your clit, the pressure was perfect and soon he felt your walls clench around his fingers, your body tensing and you held your breath for a moment feeling the pleasure spread through your body.

You rested your head on Javier's shoulder breathing deeply, his hands stroking your thighs sending a pleasant shiver through your heated skin.

"That was the first one." Peña finally spoke.

"The first one?" you lifted your head and looked at him curiously "Planning more of these?"

"Oh, sweetheart..." he sighed, brushing the strands of hair from your face, then bringing his lips to yours and stealing a tender kiss "At least two more tonight." another kiss "Two in the morning." another one "And how much more will you allow me to have with you, because - fuck - I want to see you cum again. I knew I'd get in trouble with you."

Your hand stroked the back of his neck, you could probably let him have a little more of you.

It was like an addiction. Javier was addicted, and you were his best drug. Before he knew it, you were crawling under his skin, coursing through his veins, and rushing to his head. Sometimes it felt like every time he saw you, his addiction grew.

His fingerprints were all over your body, and he proudly wore yours, even though no one was around to see it. You kept the fact that you were dating a secret, even though you never talked about it like that.

God! You never thought you could fall for a guy like that, and even more so that you would let him do things like that to you. Because sex with Javier was on another level. 

Never before, no one had made you feel so desired, enough, beautiful, and fulfilled. Peña gave you the best orgasms, the ones that left you silent for a moment afterwards because you couldn't form a grammatically correct sentence in your head. The sleep problems disappeared and lazy mornings were something you loved doing with him. 

His sleepy eyes, his hot body, his ruffled hair... In the dictionary, next to the word 'sex', they should have put a picture of Javier, you were sure of that.

In your apartment or in his, in the car in the parking lot, or at work in some tight space, because you wanted a quickie. It was getting more and more intense and what you were feeling was starting to scare you a little. A little over three weeks since O'Connell left, and you felt really good. For a while.

The information about the mole in the office was bothering Messina and she had talked to you about it many times. You promised that you would revolve around it, but for some time you hadn't found any new leads. It was frustrating.

"I talked to informants, but no one would tell me anything." You muttered one evening, resigned.

Peña opened a beer and sat down with his ordered food. "Maybe you're looking in the wrong places? Maybe it's not some higher agent or something?"

"But all this information that's been leaking..." you sighed.

“Honestly, many people have access to it. Hermosa, stop stabbing your food with fork and start eating,” he replied, gesturing to your plate.

However, your gaze drifted away for a moment. Javier noticed it after a moment, huffed impatiently. "Hermosa." he repeated warningly.

"Hmm?"

"You'll have cold food." he shook his head in disbelief. "I really don't know why I'm here with you."

You looked up from your plate and smiled. Your foot, under the table, slowly slid up his leg and headed for his crotch, rubbing it lightly. "I think I know why."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly. It was nice, what was between you. Although neither of you named it. The sex was fucking amazing, you could talk or not talk at all and Javier loved it. You didn't pressure him, you didn't expect declarations or confessions. You took what he gave you, you gave just as much.

And eventually both of you started eating more or less regularly, although the last attempt at cooking ended in burnt chicken, because when Javier came back from work he had a strong urge to get into your panties.

He grabbed you at the ankle and squeezed lightly which made you smile, he loved it. You spent quite a lot of time together and he slowly started to notice the little things he liked about you. Your smile was his favorite though.

"Murphy and I have to go out of town. We'll be gone for a few days." he said watching you as you reached for his beer and took a few sips.

"Anything important? Do you have new sources?" you asked, frowning.

Javier nodded "Yeah, we want to check them out. We also need to watch one guy."

"Okay. Just watch your backs. I won't be able to save your asses there." You squealed as he gripped your calf tighter and pulled you so hard you almost fell off the chair "Peña! Fuck you!"

"You wish." he chuckled, but then turned serious "You watch your back too, hermosa. Promise me that."

And you promised, and then you gave him something so he wouldn't forget about you and would have something to think about when he and Murphy were out of town.

"Will you miss me?"

You shook your head. "I don't think so."

"I think you will." Javier stopped the car in front of the office building and turned off the engine.

It was still early, the streets were empty. You were enjoying your last moments together. His hand on your thigh squeezed you lightly, it was nice.

"Tell me you'll miss me." He looked at you with a gentle smile and those eyes of a poor puppy. "I know you have a soft spot for me."

"You wish!" you chuckled.

"I will."

There was something in his tone of voice that made the laughter die on your lips. Those ambiguous sentences made your heart beat faster, but you calmed it down every time. You didn't want it to happen so soon. And what was that anyway?

"Maybe a little." You finally sighed, his lips stretched into a smile.

"Kiss me, hermosa."

It wasn't a request, more of an order, but you didn't mind. Javier moved closer, you stroked his cheek tenderly, and then you let his lips brush yours. At first gently, because he was teasing you, and he loved doing that. Finally, you curled your fingers in his hair and Javier slid his tongue between your lips, you moaned. His hand grabbed your waist as if he wanted to pull you even closer. Damn, he kissed like a dream.

Another brush of lips, another tender touch. Finally, he rested his forehead against yours and sighed. "Maybe we still have time, huh? Murphy will definitely be late."

"I don't think so." you replied quietly.

"He's always late."

“But not today.”

Javier looked at you, surprised, and then turned around. Steve was standing in front of the hood of his car, his glasses slid down his nose and he looked at you with disbelief on his face.

You opened the door. "I guess I'll go now." you said, smiling uncertainly, "Take care of yourselves."

"You too, hermosa." Javier replied, sitting down in his seat and putting on his glasses.

Steve nodded in your direction, then walked over to the car. "Really?" he asked, staring at his friend, "You and her? Really?"

Peña didn't even look at him, "Get in."

"Is that why you haven't been so annoying lately?" Murphy chuckled, but got in and closed the door with a soft click.

The engine started and the car slowly rolled down the road.

It was strange. They managed to come back a day early. He wanted to surprise you. He even bought some oranges, which you liked so much lately. But the apartment door was closed. Javier kept knocking for a while. He glanced at his watch. It was late, so you should have…

"She left." The older man peeked out from behind the neighboring door and glared at Javier.

"Long time ago?" he asked, surprised.

The man shrugged. "I don't remember. But she looked really nice." He smiled slightly. “You must have been late, boy. If she’s not here yet…”

Javier nodded and quickly went down the stairs. Something strange tightened his insides. He didn't expect this...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @qpiiee @missladym1981 @axshadows @djappleblush @picketniffler @txmel @wowitsafemale @cheekychaos28 @underneath-the-sky-again @misstokyo7love

[cheegu3]

Hii! HAPPY NEW YEAR!🥳💗

Could I please request an Enha mafia reaction where someone drugs your drink

Hope you stay healthy & happy this year💛🧡

hii happy new year, ty, you too sweetheart 🥳🤍🤍 !! <3 & sorry for the late reply I had already fallen asleep before I got this

(ignore how hee & sunoo’s pics don’t match lol)

warnings; yandere/mafia themes, drugging, possessiveness, violence, murder, swearing, overprotectiveness, fighting, misogyny/predatory men, indications of attempted SA

mafia!enha - reaction to someone drugging your drink

Jungwon

He was angry but controlled, knowing that making a scene could have consequences for the future. Silently he managed to keep an eye on you while finishing the business deal in the crowded cubicle he was in; and when he saw your head starting to drop and your eyelids fluttering shut, he told his guards to carry you out to his car.

Calm and composed, he walked out after about an hour of socially drinking with his business partners, so as to not alert the others that something was wrong.

While home Jungwon tucked you in and shushed you when you woke up. With his sharp eyes, he noticed one of the nasty men eying you in the bar, so he knew exactly who it was.

'' Baby you need to be quiet, it's very late, '' he whispered and put a hand over your mouth.

His other hand patted the covers in a soothing manner.

'' Can you do that for me? ''

You nodded, but couldn't help the whine that slipped past your lips when he pulled away and stood up.

'' You're leaving? ''

Something glimmered in his eyes and he smirked. '' I have something to do. But it won't take long. ''

One more time, he came to the bed and kissed your forehead before leaving to take care of the guy. Since he was calculated and precise, he'd never be suspected, and the body? Never to be found.

Heeseung

He was visibly seething and threw the drink into a plant. You barely knew what was going on since you hadn’t caught the guy slipping by your table.

Heeseung took your hand and dragged you home without explaining himself. He shut you into a room, locked it, and set a timer.

With his leg bouncing anxiously he ignored your screams for him to let you out of the room.

When the timer went off he opened it and pulled you into his arms, sighing in relief.

“ What the fuck was that? “ you pulled away from him, eyes shooting daggers.

“ I wasn’t sure if you had already had some. “

“ Some what…alcohol? “

“ A guy drugged your drink. I didn’t see him until after, but my bodyguard did. “

Your mouth fell open, and for a moment you struggled to speak as shock overwhelmed you. Once you regained your consciousness, another question popped into your head.

“ Why did you lock me in though? “

“ I don’t- “ his forehead creased and he almost looked like thinking hurt his head, “ It just seemed the most logical, in case you’d try to leave. “

Sometimes you didn’t understand his reasoning at all. Every decision regarding you seemed to be done purely on paranoia or a ‘ hunch ‘ he couldn’t explain.

“ Now sweetheart, tell me - how do you want me to kill him? “

Jay

He was furious on the inside but it was hard to notice at first glance. It had all happened so quickly; Jay went to the bathroom and during those three minutes, a man had struck up a conversation with you while his friend sprinkled the drug in your glass.

From afar, he could spot the men and immediately grew angry with jealousy. The first thing he did when reaching the table was to grab the man hard by the arm and pull him up on his feet.

He spitefully spat out, '' Fuck you, '' under his breath.

The men's eyes widened when they recognized him and they scurried away. He had quite the reputation on the street. Possessive, crazy, psycho, madly in love - were all things he'd heard people say about him before.

'' Are you okay? ''

You hesitated, scared that he was angry at you too, and would accuse you of cheating on him. Jay picked up on your difficulty in forming words.

'' Did they hurt you? ''

Your tense shoulders relaxed. So he wasn't angry at you.

'' No, I'm okay. ''

You picked up the glass and sipped on it, still feeling a bit shaken up from the incident, but also feeling much better now that your boyfriend relaxed and had given you a warm smile.

After the pair of you had recovered, everyone at the table started talking again. You just sat back quietly while drinking shyly. Not being much of a talker meant you mostly just listened while Jay, who was incredibly charming, talked to anyone and everyone.

It got harder to focus on the conversation. Your head had started spinning and you cursed yourself for having the bad habit of drinking whenever you felt awkward in social settings.

It always lead to you getting drunk way too quickly.

When Jay felt you lean on him because your head was getting heavier and dizzier by the second, he got concerned. It had only been about five minutes since you started sipping on the drink.

He brought out the drink spike tester he forced you to carry around in your handbag just in case, being very grateful for it now.

Immediately it changed color, it was exactly as he had expected, your drink had been spiked. His usual stoic expression would reappear on his face while he processed the situation and tried to come up with a plan.

In the end, he decided to tell his men to ambush the building of another gang, since he recognized one of the men as a part of a rival gang.

They'd do some damage, but nothing too serious. It was well known that the quote ' an eye for an eye ' was held in high regard in the business. However, if he went too far, they'd return for revenge.

While his men left for their mission, Jay took you to a quieter part of the bar, where usually only V.I.P customers were allowed. There he laid your head in his lap and kept a close eye on you.

'' I'm so sorry, '' he mumbled, as guilt had started to take a hold of him.

Jake

Jake had never been that angry before. He was basically shaking with anger and his eyes darted from person to person.

“ Who the fuck was it? “

The bar fell silent. With bated breaths, everyone watched how his eyes zeroed in on an older guy sitting in the far corner. His heavy steps alerted the man that someone was approaching, but he didn't seem too alarmed. A small smile even played on his lips as he looked over his shoulder.

'' Was it you? ''

The man laughed mockingly. '' What? ''

'' Who drugged my girlfriend, you sick fuck! ''

'' If you didn't want her to be taken, you should've guarded her better. She was basically begging to be fucked, sitting there all alone while you paid her no attention, '' he shrugged.

Jake turned towards you. It stung that he had been too late. Your slumped-over form was the first thing he noticed when he went back to your table to give you a new drink.

He hadn't even been on a mission. It was the weekend and he just wanted to take his girlfriend out for some drinks since he'd been busy almost all week and barely seen her.

Clenching his teeth he turned back. Seeing you sleeping so soundly and innocently had convinced Jake. He kept thinking about what that man would do to you if he was alone with you.

So, overcome with emotion he swung his fist and hit the man right in the jaw. He screamed out and jumped back, causing him to fall off the bar stool.

Jake wasted no time in climbing on top of him and started delivering blow after blow, not even stopping after his knuckles were covered in blood.

He knew very well how much you hated when he used violence. Good thing you couldn't see him; that man would not be able to walk once he was done with him.

Sunghoon

You were the one who freaked out the most, not him. In fact, to you, he almost seemed too callous.

In a slow and monotone voice, he asked questions like he was a detective trying to solve a murder. At no point did he show much concern for your worsening state as the drug was causing you to feel sleepiness take over your body.

You sat down when it became very strong. Sunghoon just looked down at you and he ticked his tongue, telling you he was slightly irritated.

'' You didn't tell me who it was. ''

'' Is that really important now? '' you almost shouted.

He took a warning step in your direction to shut you up, which you did. Sometimes he upset you greatly by being too logical. He wasn't the type to comfort someone if they were crying. Instead, he'd want to solve whatever problem was causing them to be sad.

'' Tell me,'' he demanded.

You pointed to your friend group. Sunghoon had only been a few blocks away when you called him to say you thought your drink had been spiked. He came rushing over, cheeks flushed, and went straight to work.

As soon as your eyes met, you knew you didn't really want to tell him. In the past when someone had done something to you, you couldn't help but question if he used some dirty methods.

'' Which one? ''

His eyes scanned your friends. It had been the boyfriend of one of your friends, someone you hadn't met before. You bit on your lip, not wanting to cause any trouble.

'' The man with the hat, '' you quietly said, knowing that Sunghoon wouldn't give up until you told him.

'' Go wait with Heeseung. ''

'' What? Why? ''

'' I'm not gonna deal with your brattiness now. Go. ''

You walked to where you knew Sunghoon and his friends had hung out. The last thing you saw was your boyfriend approaching the group. You had a very bad feeling in your stomach.

Sunoo

He was panicking but tried to put on a strong front for you. His hand stroked the back of your head comfortingly.

'' It's okay. I'm here if you fall asleep. I won't let anyone hurt you. ''

His soft, lulling voice made your body relax and you started to lean against him. When he felt you fall asleep, his anxiety levels doubled.

He had no idea what to do. Should he be calm and try to construct a revenge plan later? Should he do it now? Or should he use an equally violent method to whoever had hurt his darling?

It was the bartender who had drugged your drink so he felt very awkward about confronting him. Instead, he discreetly called the cops and aided them in the investigation by giving statements and proof.

You slept through it all, only waking up when you'd been transported home. Immediately upon opening your eyes, you flinched away from Sunoo who was sitting on the bed watching over you.

It hadn't been long since he kidnapped you after falling in love at first sight while being out one night on a mission. You had never let your guard down around him, so knowing he had been around you as you slept, deeply unsettled you.

'' What did you do to me? You freak! '' you spat out and backed away.

He looked hurt. '' Nothing. I didn't drug you. ''

'' I was...drugged? ''

He nodded carefully and created some space between the two of you. At a loss for words with your brain being confused, he filled in the gaps for you.

'' I watched over you so no one would hurt you. ''

Maybe he wasn't as bad as you thought.

Ni-ki

He quickly made a decision then and there as he was incredibly skilled at coming up with plans on the spot.

After checking on you, he was relieved to find out you hadn't drunk any of it. But that didn't stop him from burning up with rage on the inside.

On the outside, however, he was cool and controlled. Slowly he pieced together a plan and when it was done he went right into it, putting his best actor face on.

'' Did you just touch my girlfriend? '' his voice raised purposefully to catch the attention of the others.

The man looked confused and scared. He stammered as his eyes inspected his opponent.

'' What do you mean? I didn't do anything! ''

People had started whispering. It became impossible for the man to escape the dirty looks that were thrown his way. Knowing he was innocent of what he was accused of, the man grew panicked.

'' No, please! Don't believe him. He's lying. ''

Ni-ki held back the smirk he wanted to show him. He very quickly realized that to get revenge and ruin the man's reputation, he needed something stronger. Saying he drugged your drink when there was no proof and you hadn't even drunk it wasn't very smart.

You sat in the middle of the room, feeling like you were under a spotlight, even if no one paid any attention. Just like you, their eyes were glued to the two men.

Your face began to mirror the man's - horror, as it finally settled in what he was trying to do, and even more so at the fact that it was working.

People were getting louder, someone pressed a phone to their ear to presumably get help. But, most notably, the man had so quickly been seen as a virus. No one wanted to go close to him.

Satisfied, Ni-ki managed to slip out unnoticed and he pulled you up on your feet.

'' Didn't I do well, baby? '' he boasted devilishly.

[midniiights-garden]

A Porcelain Doll and a Blade - Mizu x Fem!Reader

Summary: It's cliché, really. A pretty little thing like you with a monster. A classic Beauty and the Beast scenario. But what if the Beauty is not all that fragile and what if the Beast isn't as cruel? Oh well, still cliché.

(A/N: This is probably gonna be multiple parts!! Idk how many parts but there will be more than one. Also the reader is implied to be South-east Asian!!)

TWs!!: Canon typical violence, Mentions of smoking and alcohol, Blood and gore, Canon and period typical misogyny.

It's cold outside, it always seems to be anyways.

The young woman looks around her, taking in her surroundings, checking for something. What that thing was no one knew but her. She was inconspicious in terms of appearance. Her skin was on the tan side, but not anything that would be odd for most of the rice farmers. She could be Japanese for all they knew.

She, you, heads into a nearby tavern seeking shelter. You're cold, unused to such weather. The concept of snow confused you. Crystals? Falling from the sky? What a strange notion. You enter the tavern, sighing happily as the heat from the fireplace within hits you like a wave. It's not nearly as warm as what you are used to, but it's much better than the bitter cold of the outside.

Your feet take you to the bar, seating yourself at one of the barstools. The men stare at you- whether it's because they desire you or because it's odd that a woman enter a tavern was unclear. You try to call over the bar keeper who raises an eyebrow at your age. You're young, early twenties. Couldn't be older than 26. You order a drink, one that gets the bar keeper to raise an eyebrow.

"...Where's your husband?" The man asks gruffly.

You huff. Now you're cold, irritated and without a drink. You reply that you have none. What you didn't say was that you weren't interested in having a male lover anyways.

The man grunts in disapproval. "No husband? Really? So what are you then, a whore?"

It was common for the courtesans of the Red Light to drink. Most drank, in fact. Other women tended to only drink in the company of family. The 'high class' women that was. The desireable little dolls most men wanted.

His words made you scowl, your features twisting in clear distaste. All you do is get up, leaving the tavern in an attempt to fuel your need to retaliate physically. Oh, how you itched for a barfight.

A young man enters the scene. Well, not truly a man. It's Mizu. Her haori and cloak are wrapped tightly around her form as she attempts to warm herself, keep herself stable in a bitter enviornment. You pass her as she heads towards the tavern, your expression still as dark and bitter as ever as you collide.

"...sorry," you mutter, bowing politely.

Mizu merely nods, bowing in return before returning her sights to the tavern. It was getting fucking cold out here.

Later that evening you are forced to return to that godforsaken tavern. The town was small, leaving you no other option. You didn't feel like having to play cutesy in order to get into someone's home. So, you head back, a scowl ever prominent on your face as you tread back into the establishment. The bar keep raises an eyebrow at you once more, the gesture earning him a pointed glare.

"I need a room for one," you mutter, trying your best to keep the flare of your temper under control.

"It's a shared dorm," the keeper explains with another grunt. "You willing to stay with a stranger?"

You sigh, irritated even more. "Yes," you hiss. "Please, just let me pay and let me get to rest."

The man rolls his eyes but obliges, allowing me to pay him. Once the transaction was done you turn, eager to just get to bed. Unfortunately the bar keeper just had to open his mouth one last time.

"You'd be a lot prettier if you kept quiet."

You are unable to reply. At least verbally. Any response to that comment would have ended in a fist fight which would end in a murder. And it certainly wouldn't be you that would die. So you trudge into the shared dorm, fists clenched so tightly your knuckles turned white and your nails dug into your palms.

You slam open the door to the shared dorms not realising another person was in there.

"Hey, what the fuck-?!" A voice says, clearly annoyed.

You recognize the voice. It's Mizu, the stranger you bumped into earlier. You sigh, bowing once more.

"My apologies..." you murmur. "I didn't realise anyone else was in here. I should have been more considerate."

Mizu raises her eyebrow, instantly recognizing the oddly pissed of girl she had bumped into. Her eyes scanned your form. You were pretty, beautiful. Like a little doll that girls would play with. The fact that you were alone made her raise an eyebrow. Despite her thoughts she decided to remain silent.

"I see... just, don't do it again," she replies bluntly, turning to her side to get some rest.

You nod, taking her acceptance and getting ready for bed in turn. You just couldn't shake the anger that those words had caused me. Irritated, you pull out a cigar- stolen, not bought- and lit it. You take a few puffs before Mizu takes notice, raising her eyebrow.

"...you smoke?" She asks, skepticisim and wariness in her tone.

"Yes. Did any of it accidentally get to you?" You reply, exhaling the smoke outside the window. Mizu remains silent for a short while before reply.

"Why do you smoke that shit? It's bad for you. Addictive and ruins you," she mutters.

You roll her eyes at her comment. "I'm stressed," you reply.

Mizu scoffs, rolling her eyes in return. "I noticed that," she huffs. "Now are you going to keep having a stuck up attitude? I don't like dealing with brats."

Considering that you that she was a man this was not a great statement. You sneer, turning to face her.

"Oh, and you think you're so much better? What gives you the right to boss me around? Because you're a big strong man?" You ask bitterly, getting close to loosing your temper. "Well you can shove that strength right up your damn ass. I don't answer to you."

With that you go silent, glaring out into the night sky.

Mizu is taken aback by your hostility. Well, actually, it wasn't the hostility as much as your willingness to belittle a person you saw as a man. Most women would not take that chance. You, on the other hand, seemed to give zero shits. While it annoyed her it also made her respect you a little. No matter how rudely you had gone about it.

So, instead of reply Mizu simply turns over and goes to bed. She could already tell you'd be a hell of a lot to deal with and she was already tired. Perhaps the morning would uncover more things about the both of you.

[ghostboyravenight]

Pinned Post

Finally making a new one of these to answer some questions people may have about me and my blog.

Also, I don’t really like sharing my name online, so you can just call me Ghost (he/him).

What is your blog about?

Well, I wanted it to just be about fandom shit like my blogs on tumblr usually are, but apparently tumblr’s going through its “I hate trans men” phase and since I am one of those said trans men, I tend to talk a lot about my issues and experiences here in order to help spread awareness about transandrophobia.

2. Why do you use the word transandrophobia?

Because I think it describes my particular type of experiences as succinctly as possible. The type of transphobia I face in my everyday life tends to come from a place of disdain for trans men in particular, not just transphobia and not just misogyny, but a specific type of abuse that I have been dealing with at the hands of my family members for years now, and I find that this term has come the closest to describing what that experience has been like. This term is not necessarily everyone’s preferred word, and my experiences will not match up with everyone else’s, so I am not here to impose the word on anyone else. It’s simply what works best for me.

3. You know you’ve been marked red on Shinigami Eyes, right?

Yes. This is unsurprising. Many transmasc, non-binary and intersex blogs, or blogs by trans women/fems who stand up for us, have been unjustifiably marked red. I have made several posts explaining this since I get a lot of asks about it, but this one should cover everything.

5. Do you have a Ko-Fi or anything?

Nope! I don’t have the financial independence to set up any kind of fund, but if you have any money to spare then I would much rather you donate it to my friend Othman’s campaign to escape Gaza. You can also donate to his PayPal as he is in desperate need for money to pay for food and water. I really want him to reach the end of his goal as soon as possible, so I want to make it clear that his campaign is my main priority and partially the reason I’m staying on tumblr.

I am also in the Dan and Phil fandom and taking commissions for oneshots in return for a donation, so if you’re interested, please check out this post for more information.

6. [Insert any other question about various discourses]

My stance on any discourse involving queer identities is that you couldn’t pay me to give a shit about it. Anyone can do whatever the fuck they want forever and it is not my place to say how someone can and can’t identify.

This blog is not a safe place for exclusionists, TERFs, RadFems or TransRadFems (you can’t reclaim an inherently transphobic, racist and exclusionist movement no matter what coat of paint you slap onto it). If I see any kind of exclusionist or TERF behaviour, I will call it out. We will never have trans liberation if we let that shit infiltrate our community and we will never have trans liberation if we start fighting each other. TERFs hate all of us, so if I see anyone doing a TERF’s job for them by trying to start discourse or cause any kind of division, I will assume you’re one of them and block you.

8. You write like a robot

This isn’t an ask I’ve actually received (although it’s been mentioned a few times to me irl), but I’ve always been self conscious that my writing comes across as overly formal and stilted, so I just wanted to point out that this is how I talk and I apologise if I ever over-explain myself or sound in any way pretentious, I promise I’m working on it.

9. Tags?

I reblog forcemasc stuff on occasion so if you’re not into that please block the tag. I also don’t tend to reblog NSFW stuff, but if I do it will be tagged “nsfw.”

7. Do you like Undertale?

YEAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH BABEYYYYYYY

[do-you-ship-it-polls]

You do realize misandry is not abuse right? The women who abused your friend might have been misandrist too but it has nothing to do with it. And misandrists don’t specifically believe than men can’t be abused. Again, this might have been the case for the women around your friend, but it has nothing to do with it.

Misandry is a legitimate answer to men’s domination and violence. Misandry does not harm men. It does not put them in danger, it does not oppress them, it does not prevent them to access to certain rights, etc. Most of the time misandrists just avoid being around men when they can. They just don’t become friends with them or date them, and that’s not even true for all misandrists.

Literally explain to me how misandry is a problem. What does it to do men that it so unbearable? I genuinely don’t get it. Misogyny kills every day, misandry didn’t do a single victim.

I’m not the same person who asked you the previous question btw, but I was baffled by your response as well

So.. you're telling me.. a man being belittled and having his trauma downplayed because he's a man has nothing to do with it being socially acceptable to hate men? It doesn't cause harm when men are falsely accussed of rape because they are men in an attempt to ruin their life? It's not harmful when man-hating radfems tell trans men that they're misogynistic and betraying women by transitioning to male???

And please note how I never threaten the fact that misogyny exists or try to claim that misandry is worse. But people are so fast to believe that if misandry (hatred against men) exists, then misogyny (hatred against women) can't exist. Like why do people freak out at the thought that hatred against men is a real thing and a problem? Has blind hatred ever done anyone good?

I probably shouldn't bring up such personal experiences with misandry, but sometimes it feels like the only way to prove a point, but it doesn't even work since people don't listen. People refuse to believe that men could ever be hurt by what women say to them, because every man is a rapist and a pedophile and a misogynistic wife beater just itching for the day they give in and do something bad. ...Like, no, most men are normal and the world doesn't benefit from you thinking they should all kill themselves.

I genuinely don't understand why that's such a difficult thing for some people to grasp. Yes, misogyny is incredibly bad and all over the world there are problems of varying severity that women specifically face. The focus should be on helping women and combating misogyny, because as you say, women are hurt far more.

But I'm so genuinely confused on why it makes people piss themselves and cry when someone says that it's bad to hate all men so passionately. You're not being as progressive as you think.

[ink-flavored]

#OCKiss2025 Day 1: Desperate

Part of the @ockissweek event from Feb. 10-16th, featuring Henry & Priscilla Day 2 -> Contains: blood, guns, misgendering (on purpose and on accident), yelling, threats of violence, misogyny, an extremely unhealthy marriage Slang: A “high-hat” is a snob, or someone who’s snobbish. A “flapper” is a young woman who disregards social norms, especially characterized by short hair and knee-length skirts. “Sap” means idiot. A “piker” is a coward. Tips are appreciated!

Percy wrung out the dirty rag into the bowl under the mirror. Watery blood splashed and rippled, sending pink-stained waves lapping at the edge of the ceramic. He inspected his work—the blood was gone from his face and hands, leaving them soft and fair as ever. His hair was hidden away under his hat, probably a mess, but not able to be dealt with until he got back to the house. And yet, he frowned into the glass. For all his efforts to clean up, there was still a crimson stain on the crisp, white fabric of his shirt that wouldn’t come out. He lifted one end of his jacket to see how bad the damage was.

The splatter was about the size of his palm, spread across his ribs, and sufficiently damp from the rag already. All he’d managed to do was spread it around, a blurry imitation of the shape it used to be. Percy sighed. He’d have to take it to the cleaners.

All said and done, though, his mission was a success. They cleared out the rat’s nest one bullet at a time, and managed to get back to the safehouse without a tail. A much faster solution than ideally proposed, and all he sacrificed was a clean shirt. He threw the rag down in the bowl and buttoned up his jacket. The stain disappeared behind the dark fabric, and he smiled. Like it was never there at all.

In the mirror, he saw a nervous head pop around the corner into the room. “Miss… Gardner?”

Percy’s eye twitched, but he let it slide. “What is it, Bill?”

“We—We just got the signal that, uh, the seasons are changing?”

He sat into his hip, arms folded. “Are they, now?”

“Yes ma’am, and it won’t be long before—”

The safehouse boomed from the sound of something—someone—slamming on the rickety front door. Bill jumped, and Luther, the second guard posted by the entrance, yelped.

“Priscilla Gardner!” Henry screamed through the walls. “Open this fucking door right now before I break it down!”

Bill turned white as a sheet, staring wide-eyed for instruction. Percy just sighed.

“Let him in,” he said.

He rushed away. The door clicked open, but Percy heard it slam against the wall anyway. Henry’s furious, thundering footsteps shook the air, and he was menacing when he found what he was looking for. Percy stood tall, staring into the mirror instead of turning around, and his face contorted with rage.

“How dare you,” he growled.

“How dare I what?” Percy replied, flat and emotionless.

“How dare you sit there like a high-hat flapper instead of explaining to me what the fuck is going on here?”

His blood boiled—Henry knew what it meant when he wore his hair like this. He knew exactly what he was saying. Percy knew it was what he wanted, but he whipped around with burning eyes.

“You should be thanking me is what’s going on,” he spat. “I cleared out that rat infestation by my Goddamn self, you ungrateful sap.”

“Thanking you?” Henry took a threatening step forward. “I had a plan to take care of it quietly, and you—“

“They would have seen it coming a mile away, and we would have been back to square one.”

“I already set-up the Goddamn sting!” Henry roared, throwing his arms out wildly. “The chief was for it! We would have cleaned them up in one fucking afternoon, and now I have to explain why my wife was out there ruining our operation!”

Percy almost laughed. “You’re worried about the fuzz?”

“Our reputation with the fuzz.”

“Oh, please. Our real enemies heard my message loud and clear—they would have bought their way out of yours.”

Henry dragged his hands down his face. “So, that’s it then? Decades of work we’ve put into getting the police on our side—gone? Because you wanted to play with a pistol?” Percy opened his mouth, but Henry kept going. “All because you wanted to get one over on a tiny, tiny piece of our opposition? All because you couldn’t let the negotiator handle this?”

Percy cut in, “The negotiator needs to learn when his skills are unnecessary.”

“And you need to learn your place.”

Oh, that was it.

Priscilla whipped her pistol out of the holster under her arm and let her hat flutter to the floor in one motion. As her hair tumbled out of its misshapen bun, she pointed her gun right over Henry’s heart.

He put his hands up, as though he were innocent. As though his palms weren’t stained with just as much blood as hers, because it was the color of ink instead. They both knew what kind of business this was—Priscilla was at least willing to embrace the truth. She did what she had to do to get things done. And Henry? Henry went around all his problems.

Not this time.

“Remember the woman you married,” she warned. “I haven’t.”

“You’re really pulling a gun on me for this?” he asked, volcanic rage turned to calm, placating words.

“I am.”

“For what? For the crime of wanting to make sure our business can keep thriving? For wanting to keep our influence intact?” He let out a single, breathy sound of laughter. “For wanting to keep you safe? You’d shoot your husband for that?”

“I’ll do much worse if he doesn’t get off my Goddamn back.” Priscilla pulled back the hammer with a click. “I can run this city with or without your help. Remember that.”

Henry hung his head, but she knew him too well to see it as an admission of defeat. She kept the pistol trained on him, finger hovering over the trigger. It was silent in the safehouse, the quiet violence of a dying season.

Then, Henry took a step forward. When Priscilla didn’t threaten him further, he took another. He kept going, step by step, until he pressed himself against the barrel of her gun. It was lodged between his ribs now, too tall and too close for her to truly strike his heart.

“Do it, then,” he muttered, staring down at her with dark eyes.

Priscilla caught her breath, a single moment of hesitation. It was all he needed.

Henry grabbed her wrist and wrenched it to the side with one hand, and fisted her hair in in his other. She would have cried out from the strength of his grip, had he not crushed their mouths together in a kiss as bubbling hot as his rage.

It melted her. She almost dropped the pistol, fingers going limp around the handle, as she succumbed to the warmth of his touch. It was true that Priscilla could have run this city without him, she might even be able to run it better without his meddling. But, oh, she didn’t want to.

Henry loved her so desperately he was willing to risk his life at the end of her hand. When his fury got too much for him—for the both of them—the only thing he could think to do was kiss her, and she was weak for it. The way his angry lips scraped across her own, how her gasps for air only drove him to kiss her harder, deeper, longer… She’d gladly infuriate him every day of her life if it got her this.

There wasn’t anyone else like him. Nobody else could make her hate them one minute, and fall even deeper in love the next.

When he finally gave her room to breathe, she was sure he saw the love in her face. That she’d only done this for him. That everything she did was to keep her dearest husband intact in his favorite office, doing the paperwork he loved so much. Henry loved her enough to risk his life, and Priscilla loved him enough to kill.

“If you come back to the house tonight,” Henry told her, low and raspy, “I’m going to lock you in the basement and board the door shut.”

“Enjoy eating dinner alone,” she replied.

He sighed, frustrated, but let her go. Priscilla stumbled, dizzy, and he stomped his way back out the safehouse door. She watched him go with hungry eyes, only interrupted by Bill and Luther. The two goons crawled out of wherever they’d been hiding during their argument, and stared at her.

“Oh, don’t be such pikers,” she chided. “He’ll be ringing the hotel phone by tomorrow morning, begging forgiveness.”

Privately, she knew she’d have forgiven him by then too. She turned back to the mirror to fix her hair again, smiling to herself. The moment he calls, she’ll be halfway out the door already, desperate to get back home to him. They’ll stay wrapped in each other for hours, wondering how they could have ever been so angry.

Her heart fluttered at the thought. Perhaps she could convince him to lock her in the bedroom instead.

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Events Taglist: @foxys-fantasy-tales @thelaughingstag @ceph-the-ghost-writer @auntdarth @damageinkorporated @srjacksin @wyked-ao3 @alesseia @monstrify

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[silent-sanctum]

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Anyways, just got back from my week long vacation you know touching grass and all and yes, I'm not gonna censor your name because lmao you found my old ass post and that's wild. But first off-

From your local Asexual, Happy Pride Month to all of the LGBTQ community!! 🤗🌈✨️

And happy Pride to my Pookie Jotaro Kujo, my *HEADCANON because I cannot stress this enough* biromantic demisexual king 😊🫶

Firstly, I just wanna say kudos to user @misspayn-e for finding my old ass in defense post when I've written a more detailed and newer essay in relation to the post you reblogged.

Second of all, you are a grown ass woman seething over an explained counterargument about a fictional character's sexuality. Like damn girl the effort.

But since I'm resting from jet lag right now, I'll breakdown your short dislike reblog and yap 😊

"I'm sorry-"

No you aren't. Let's not lie lmao.

"your MAN"

Yes, as a person with vision, he is a cis male with XY chromosomes and human male anatomy parts.

"Is a misogynistic gay man who uses misogyny to cover up his deeper feelings for men"

... alright. To all my audience reading. Friendly reminder: You can headcanon your favorite characters as any sexuality unless it's told EXPLICITLY by the author ♡

This sentence reads as a headcanon stemmed from either real-life experiences or a wattpad/fanfic story. Like it ain't that serious ma'am. And you are seething at me like you're Araki and your headcanon is real.

From my perspective and I have to stress this again, the canon material doesn't provide me substantial cues that he was closeted... at all. So, I don't get that level of passion in your sentiment.

Let's not do that. Okay? Pull that stick out of your ass ♡

"Mind you in Part 4, Jotaro is 40 something"

Not to be that person, but "uhm actually 🤓👆" , Jotaro is 28 in Part 4. What you're referring to is Part 6.

If you're gonna seethe at me, seethe right.

"He's still yelling at women!"

My dear audience, this is why context is important ♡ Why did he yell at them? Because the girls were being obnoxiously loud, just like when he was a teenager.

But if you can see past that, you can see how he matured past his teenager phase as talks with other women that's not yelling straight into his eardrums (i.e Tomoko and his calm response to her despite the lady squealing her love over and over again)

"You can still have feelings for women and still be sexist towards them"

Yes. That's true. And I've explained that thoroughly in my essay, but that doesn't apply to him necessarily... unless you're projecting that is. I'm just saying.

Now onto the pictures:

Great, and I'm also not interested in men so much (asexual). Does that necessarily mean I'm a closeted lesbian?

Again. Headcanon your favorite characters anything you want. If you want to think of him as a gay man, then go ahead. More power to you 💪.

I think of him as an asexual / demisexual and that's MY headcanon if you're assuming I picture him as completely straight.

But don't reblog me and come at me to preach about your headcanon, alright?

Again, context is important ♡

I don't know about you, but if I see this random person freely roaming, OVERLY FAWNING, and telling me "oh naurrr, please help me~ I'm in dire need of help~" in someone's shady residence, and NOT think of it as an obvious trap-

Then I don't know what I'm supposed to tell you.

Anyways, I don't know what lengths you had to go through to find my old defense post, but kudos I guess. You want a medal? 😊🏅

Happy Pride Month everyone! 🎉🏳️‍🌈✨️

[whore-ibly-hot]

How strong is Joey? You said previously he has big man tatas

And how’d he treat his sons vs daughters? I feel like he’s accidentally lovingly misogynistic. Especially given his conservative religious upbringing. Like he doesn’t believe that darling should labor in the sun, but he doesn’t believe that darling is lesser than him because she’s a woman. Does this make sense?????

Joey's actually very good about beating back any unintentional misogyny. He has a lot of family members, but Betty Jo, one of his sisters, is probably the biggest and strongest laborer in the family. She's huge, and could probably hog tie a cow and carry it into the next field if she needed. He's no stranger to women working just as hard if not harder at traditional masculine activites than men.

He tends be more gentle and allow darling to stay in the house and do stereotypically feminine chores because he just loves them so much! He thinks they're delicate, and their from the city. He doesn't want them to overwork themselves!

As far as kids, Joey is thrilled at whatever his little guy or gal is into! More of a home chores kid? Great! Wants to help on the farm? Awesome. Doesn't really want to do anything but sit and play with rocks? A little odd, but he's more than happy to join in.

The only real difference in how Joey treats kids is age. Until the kid is about eight or so, Joey will treat them like glass. Gently holding them, extremely slow and careful piggyback rides, and baby proofing the house even if they're old enough to ride a bike and swim. Once they're over eight? All bets are off. Play wrestling, swinging the kid around over his head, or throwing them into a big bale of hay from the hayloft. All if the kid is okay with it, of course.

He's excited is his kiddo is good at something he isn't. If Joey's little boy comes up to him and talks about how much he likes cooking or baking, Joey's thrilled! He's always had someone too make meals for him, and he can't cook to save his life. He's so excited that his kiddo has a hobby he can learn with them. Regardless of what his kid is into, he'll sit and listen with fascination.

Joey has had a lot of siblings, but as the youngest boy he doesn't have a ton of experience with babies. Because of this, you'll have to tell him off from time to time, as well as his other family members because of the odd things he may do. He's only ever been around baby animals, so you'll have to explain why human babies can't be held by a scruff, or why they won't start walking within a few days like a baby cow. He's a little disappointed he won't be able to have a conversation with his kid for a few years, but that doesn't stop him from talking to them.

"Mhmm, there's my big healthy lil' dumpling'. What're you gigglin' at, huh? You happy to see daddy? Are ya?"

Joey is thrilled that his family uses hand me downs so much now that he has kids of his own. Seeing his little girl in his old red truck shirt of his little boy in some big green rain boots is enough to make him cry. Expect to see him showing the kids and the rest of the town old family photos of him in the same clothes when he was little.

He's a great dad, especially in the early years. Diapers need changed? He's dealt with grosser. Babies hungry? You stay in bed, he'll feed them. You honestly don't even need to purchase a crib, because his baby is not leaving his broad chest.

"Cmon, darlin'! I'm big and soft, I'm just as good as any old crib, and Joey Jr. Here agrees. Let him stay a lil' longer? Please?"

[blossoming-mind-palace]

Tang Bo x Fem! Reader: “One Hell of a Woman” (SFW)

Summary: You fight alongside Tang Bo, and he’s really interested in your muscles. Afterwards, he asks to spar and you both end up having a conversation about the Tang’s inequality towards women.

Contains: Blood in the first half, conversations about misogyny that ends on a hopeful note, and a fem! reader

WC: 1,310 (This was originally supposed to be like 500 and that’s why it ends abruptly)

“Wow…” All Tang Bo can do is watch with eyes filled with admiration and awe. The woman that has captured his attention is you, but you unknowingly caught it through unconventional means. He became fixated on you when he witnessed you quickly and precisely slaughtering your targets while looking pretty. His own dreams could never conjure such a stunning yet lethal image, and he could watch you all day if given the chance.

Even when you have to literally beat them to death with brute force and end up covered in blood of your enemies, you still look majestic in his eyes. It's no surprise that he hasn't met many women like you considering his background, and you're definitely the strongest one he's ever met. ‘I wonder how strong she is… Would she spar with me? Could she beat me?’ He thinks, but is abruptly torn away from his ogling when an enemy runs up to him.

That's no problem; he's so strong that most enemies are like ants. Said problem is quickly solved by his dagger meeting their vital organs, but three more cultists suddenly ambush him. ‘What a pain in the ass!’ He thinks while desperately trying to block their attacks. Suddenly, his back feels warm and wet. He quickly realizes that it's someone else's blood, and that you took care of a few enemies that were trying to ambush him from behind. “Pick up the pace, Tang boy. You're spacing out,” you poke fun at him as he slices the necks of the last of his ambushers.

‘Can you blame me? You're too pretty, especially when you’re fighting. It's distracting,’ he thinks and chuckles at your comment. After things calm down and it’s clear that all of the enemies are gone, he replies,“It seems like you had everything under control.” “What? No, I wouldn't say that!” You nervously laugh and scratch at your neck. He definitely notices the faint blush on your cheeks and a mischievous grin appears on his face. ‘She gets flustered easily, too. How cute,’ he thinks before speaking again.

“You definitely took out most of those people… Anyways, that's not important right now. Did you get hurt? It's hard to tell if that's your blood or someone else’s,” Tang Bo asks before pulling out his reliable medicines. “I remember taking a hard blow to my back, but I'll probably just have a bruise there… Oh, and I guess someone did nick me right here,” You explain and raise your sleeve up to your shoulder to give him a better look at your flesh wound.

“Hah, I almost forgot about it. Thanks for reminding me!” “... That is way too deep to casually forget about,” he points out and looks genuinely bewildered by your pain receptors. “Really? It's not that bad-” “No, it’s definitely that bad. Come here,” his bewilderment has turned into worry as he motions for you to come closer. When you walk up to him, he grabs your arm and begins applying some sort of special Tang medicine on it. You don't know what it is as this is your first time fighting alongside a Tang, but it's impressively effective.

Meanwhile, Tang Bo notices how toned and well-defined your muscles are. It doesn't surprise him that you're so muscular, especially after witnessing you fight. He does find himself getting distracted again, though. For some reason, he finds the way they flex and move under your flesh captivating, and they’re pleasing to his eyes. He's seen plenty of muscular arms in the past, but yours are particularly impressive and he's not sure why. It’s difficult for him to take his eyes off of them, and he wonders how the rest of your muscles look. Are they as pretty as your deltoids, biceps and triceps?

He watches as the cut begins healing, but accidentally keeps staring at your toned arm after it's done. “Tang Bo, I think you can let go now,” you awkwardly say before noticing that there's a red tint on his cheeks. Maybe he's embarrassed for spacing out so much? “Ah, you're right. Sorry about that,” he apologizes before letting go of your arm and hiding his medicines back into his robe.

Both of you begin walking down the dirt path you came from, and he decides to ask,”You seem like a formidable opponent. Perhaps we should spar sometime?” “Hah, not as formidable as you! It’d probably do me some good to practice with a master like you,” you grin at him and bashfully play with your sleeves. He keeps complimenting your fighting skills, and all of the flattery is starting to make you feel giddy. He snorts before continuing,”You flatter me… Y’know, I haven’t gotten to meet a lot of women like you.”

You cock an eyebrow at him before asking,”What’s that supposed to mean?” “My stuffy old family doesn’t allow women to learn about our poisons or martial art techniques, so I didn’t get to meet a lot of strong women until I left,” he explains and notices the way that you visibly cringe at his family’s ancient misogynistic ideals. The only way you can vocalize your extreme disgust is with an,”Eugh.” “I know, right? Pretty gross. I don’t know why they still treat their own mothers, sisters, daughters, etc. like that. Their attitude towards women outside of the family isn’t much better, either.” “Of course, that’s how it normally goes. They probably put women down because they’re scared they’ll be better than them. Men like that hate feeling lesser than their counterparts, and find sharing their success to be impossible. They cannot fathom a woman who they view as just a maid or cook becoming an equal or potentially surpassing them. So, they stick to putting them down for the sake of their pride, and choose to stick to their misogynistic traditions.”

Tang Bo’s eyes widen, because it’s as if you’ve read the minds of almost all of the Tang men. “Exactly, and they’re so wrong for that! It feels like no matter how many times you explain that to them, they still won’t listen! I’m glad that I rarely talk to my stuck-up, prejudiced family members,” he grins as he talks, and you notice the dimples poking out from his cheeks every time his lips curl up. It’s cute, but you shouldn’t let his looks distract you from the conversation at hand.

”It’s difficult to make people like that open their minds and leave behind the old ways. That’s why it’s up to people like us to take charge and change things, don’t you agree?” You’re pleased when he quickly nods at your question. There’s a brief silence as you two continue walking, and you enjoy the view of the greenery that surrounds it. Your appreciation is cut short when you realize something.

Your head snaps back to Tang Bo as you ask,”Is that why you’re so interested in sparring?” “Hm?” “You’re interested in sparring with me because you haven’t gotten many chances to train with women, right?” His eyes wander for a moment as he thinks of how he’ll reply to your question. His gaze returns when he replies,”Yeah, I guess you could say that. I’ve met a few women who were martial artists, but you’re definitely the strongest one I’ve met so far.”

“Well then, it’s settled. I’ll fight you the next time we meet… Say, how would you react if I managed to beat you?” You know that won’t happen, but it doesn’t hurt to ask a hypothetical question, right? ‘Please do, I’d enjoy it- I definitely shouldn’t say that out loud,’ he thinks, and he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He tries his best to calm down before replying,”I’d congratulate you, of course! I have to give credit where it’s due, y’know.”