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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months ago

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Retiring the US debt would retire the US dollar

THIS WEDNESDAY (October 23) at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

One of the most consequential series of investigative journalism of this decade was the Propublica series that Jesse Eisinger helmed, in which Eisinger and colleagues analyzed a trove of leaked IRS tax returns for the richest people in America:

https://www.propublica.org/series/the-secret-irs-files

The Secret IRS Files revealed the fact that many of America's oligarchs pay no tax at all. Some of them even get subsidies intended for poor families, like Jeff Bezos, whose tax affairs are so scammy that he was able to claim to be among the working poor and receive a federal Child Tax Credit, a $4,000 gift from the American public to one of the richest men who ever lived:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-secret-irs-files-trove-of-never-before-seen-records-reveal-how-the-wealthiest-avoid-income-tax

As important as the numbers revealed by the Secret IRS Files were, I found the explanations even more interesting. The 99.9999% of us who never make contact with the secretive elite wealth management and tax cheating industry know, in the abstract, that there's something scammy going on in those esoteric cults of wealth accumulation, but we're pretty vague on the details. When I pondered the "tax loopholes" that the rich were exploiting, I pictured, you know, long lists of equations salted with Greek symbols, completely beyond my ken.

But when Propublica's series laid these secret tactics out, I learned that they were incredibly stupid ruses, tricks so thin that the only way they could possibly fool the IRS is if the IRS just didn't give a shit (and they truly didn't – after decades of cuts and attacks, the IRS was far more likely to audit a family earning less than $30k/year than a billionaire).

This has become a somewhat familiar experience. If you read the Panama Papers, the Paradise Papers, Luxleaks, Swissleaks, or any of the other spectacular leaks from the oligarch-industrial complex, you'll have seen the same thing: the rich employ the most tissue-thin ruses, and the tax authorities gobble them up. It's like the tax collectors don't want to fight with these ultrawealthy monsters whose net worth is larger than most nations, and merely require some excuse to allow them to cheat, anything they can scribble in the box explaining why they are worth billions and paying little, or nothing, or even entitled to free public money from programs intended to lift hungry children out of poverty.

It was this experience that fueled my interest in forensic accounting, which led to my bestselling techno-crime-thriller series starring the two-fisted, scambusting forensic accountant Martin Hench, who made his debut in 2022's Red Team Blues:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

The double outrage of finding out how badly the powerful are ripping off the rest of us, and how stupid and transparent their accounting tricks are, is at the center of Chokepoint Capitalism, the book about how tech and entertainment companies steal from creative workers (and how to stop them) that Rebecca Giblin and I co-authored, which also came out in 2022:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Now that I've written four novels and a nonfiction book about finance scams, I think I can safely call myself a oligarch ripoff hobbyist. I find this stuff endlessly fascinating, enraging, and, most importantly, energizing. So naturally, when PJ Vogt devoted two episodes of his excellent Search Engine podcast to the subject last week, I gobbled them up:

https://www.searchengine.show/listen/search-engine-1/why-is-it-so-hard-to-tax-billionaires-part-1

I love the way Vogt unpacks complex subjects. Maybe you've had the experience of following a commentator and admiring their knowledge of subjects you're unfamiliar with, only have them cover something you're an expert in and find them making a bunch of errors (this is basically the experience of using an LLM, which can give you authoritative seeming answers when the subject is one you're unfamiliar with, but which reveals itself to be a Bullshit Machine as soon as you ask it about something whose lore you know backwards and forwards).

Well, Vogt has covered many subjects that I am an expert in, and I had the opposite experience, finding that even when he covers my own specialist topics, I still learn something. I don't always agree with him, but always find those disagreements productive in that they make me clarify my own interests. (Full disclosure: I was one of Vogt's experts on his previous podcast, Reply All, talking about the inkjet printerization of everything:)

https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/brho54

Vogt's series on taxing billionaires was no exception. His interview subjects (including Eisinger) were very good, and he got into a lot of great detail on the leaker himself, Charles Littlejohn, who plead guilty and was sentenced to five years:

https://jacobin.com/2023/10/charles-littlejohn-irs-whistleblower-pro-publica-tax-evasion-prosecution

Vogt also delved into the history of the federal income tax, how it was sold to the American public, and a rather hilarious story of Republican Congressional gamesmanship that backfired spectacularly. I'd never encountered this stuff before and boy was it interesting.

But then Vogt got into the nature of taxation, and its relationship to the federal debt, another subject I've written about extensively, and that's where one of those productive disagreements emerged. Yesterday, I set out to write him a brief note unpacking this objection and ended up writing a giant essay (sorry, PJ!), and this morning I found myself still thinking about it. So I thought, why not clean up the email a little and publish it here?

As much as I enjoyed these episodes, I took serious exception to one – fairly important! – aspect of your analysis: the relationship of taxes to the national debt.

There's two ways of approaching this question, which I think of as akin to classical vs quantum physics. In the orthodox, classical telling, the government taxes us to pay for programs. This is crudely true at 10,000 feet and as a rule of thumb, it's fine in many cases. But on the ground – at the quantum level, in this analogy – the opposite is actually going on.

There is only one source of US dollars: the US Treasury (you can try and make your own dollars, but they'll put you in prison for a long-ass time if they catch you.).

If dollars can only originate with the US government, then it follows that:

a) The US government doesn't need our taxes to get US dollars (for the same reason Apple doesn't need us to redeem our iTunes cards to get more iTunes gift codes);

b) All the dollars in circulation start with spending by the US government (taxes can't be paid until dollars are first spent by their issuer, the US government); and

c) That spending must happen before anyone has been taxed, because the way dollars enter circulation is through spending.

You've probably heard people say, "Government spending isn't like household spending." That is obviously true: households are currency users while governments are currency issuers.

But the implications of this are very interesting.

First, the total dollars in circulation are:

a) All the dollars the government has ever spent into existence funding programs, transferring to the states, and paying its own employees, minus

b) All the dollars that the government has taxed away from us, and subsequently annihilated.

(Because governments spend money into existence and tax money out of existence.)

The net of dollars the government spends in a given year minus the dollars the government taxes out of existence that year is called "the national deficit." The total of all those national deficits is called "the national debt." All the dollars in circulation today are the result of this national debt. If the US government didn't have a debt, there would be no dollars in circulation.

The only way to eliminate the national debt is to tax every dollar in circulation out of existence. Because the national debt is "all the dollars the government has ever spent," minus "all the dollars the government has ever taxed." In accounting terms, "The US deficit is the public's credit."

When billionaires like Warren Buffet tell Jesse Eisinger that he doesn't pay tax because "he thinks his money is better spent on charitable works rather than contributing to an insignificant reduction of the deficit," he is, at best, technically wrong about why we tax, and at worst, he's telling a self-serving lie. The US government doesn't need to eliminate its debt. Doing so would be catastrophic. "Retiring the US debt" is the same thing as "retiring the US dollar."

So if the USG isn't taxing to retire its debts, why does it tax? Because when the USG – or any other currency issuer – creates a token, that token is, on its face, useless. If I offered to sell you some "Corycoins," you would quite rightly say that Corycoins have no value and thus you don't need any of them.

For a token to be liquid – for it to be redeemable for valuable things, like labor, goods and services – there needs to be something that someone desires that can be purchased with that token. Remember when Disney issued "Disney dollars" that you could only spend at Disney theme parks? They traded more or less at face value, even outside of Disney parks, because everyone knew someone who was planning a Disney vacation and could make use of those Disney tokens.

But if you go down to a local carny and play skeeball and win a fistful of tickets, you'll find it hard to trade those with anyone outside of the skeeball counter, especially once you leave the carny. There's two reasons for this:

1) The things you can get at the skeeball counter are pretty crappy so most people don't desire them; and ' 2) Most people aren't planning on visiting the carny, so there's no way for them to redeem the skeeball tickets even if they want the stuff behind the counter (this is also why it's hard to sell your Iranian rials if you bring them back to the US – there's not much you can buy in Iran, and even someone you wanted to buy something there, it's really hard for US citizens to get to Iran).

But when a sovereign currency issuer – one with the power of the law behind it – demands a tax denominated in its own currency, they create demand for that token. Everyone desires USD because almost everyone in the USA has to pay taxes in USD to the government every year, or they will go to prison. That fact is why there is such a liquid market for USD. Far more people want USD to pay their taxes than will ever want Disney dollars to spend on Dole Whips, and even if you are hoping to buy a Dole Whip in Fantasyland, that desire is far less important to you than your desire not to go to prison for dodging your taxes.

Even if you're not paying taxes, you know someone who is. The underlying liquidity of the USD is inextricably tied to taxation, and that's the first reason we tax. By issuing a token – the USD – and then laying on a tax that can only be paid in that token (you cannot pay federal income tax in anything except USD – not crypto, not euros, not rials – only USD), the US government creates demand for that token.

And because the US government is the only source of dollars, the US government can purchase anything that is within its sovereign territory. Anything denominated in US dollars is available to the US government: the labor of every US-residing person, the land and resources in US territory, and the goods produced within the US borders. The US doesn't need to tax us to buy these things (remember, it makes new money by typing numbers into a spreadsheet at the Federal Reserve). But it does tax us, and if the taxes it levies don't equal the spending it's making, it also sells us T-bills to make up the shortfall.

So the US government kinda acts like classical physics is true, that is, like it is a household and thus a currency user, and not a currency issuer. If it spends more than it taxes, it "borrows" (issues T-bills) to make up the difference. Why does it do this? To fight inflation.

The US government has no monetary constraints, it can make as many dollars as it cares to (by typing numbers into a spreadsheet). But the US government is fiscally constrained, because it can only buy things that are denominated in US dollars (this is why it's such a big deal that global oil is priced in USD – it means the US government can buy oil from anywhere, not only the USA, just by typing numbers into a spreadsheet).

The supply of dollars is infinite, but the supply of labor and goods denominated in US dollars is finite, and, what's more, the people inside the USA expect to use that labor and goods for their own needs. If the US government issues so many dollars that it can outbid every private construction company for the labor of electricians, bricklayers, crane drivers, etc, and puts them all to work building federal buildings, there will be no private construction.

Indeed, every time the US government bids against the private sector for anything – labor, resources, land, finished goods – the price of that thing goes up. That's one way to get inflation (and it's why inflation hawks are so horny for slashing government spending – to get government bidders out of the auction for goods, services and labor).

But while the supply of goods for sale in US dollars is finite, it's not fixed. If the US government takes away some of the private sector's productive capacity in order to build interstates, train skilled professionals, treat sick people so they can go to work (or at least not burden their working-age relations), etc, then the supply of goods and services denominated in USD goes up, and that makes more fiscal space, meaning the government and the private sector can both consume more of those goods and services and still not bid against one another, thus creating no inflationary pressure.

Thus, taxes create liquidity for US dollars, but they do something else that's really important: they reduce the spending power of the private sector. If the US only ever spent money into existence and never taxed it out of existence, that would create incredible inflation, because the supply of dollars would go up and up and up, while the supply of goods and services you could buy with dollars would grow much more slowly, because the US government wouldn't have the looming threat of taxes with which to coerce us into doing the work to build highways, care for the sick, or teach people how to be doctors, engineers, etc.

Taxes coercively reduce the purchasing power of the private sector (they're a stick). T-bills do the same thing, but voluntarily (they the carrot).

A T-bill is a bargain offered by the US government: "Voluntarily park your money instead of spending it. That will create fiscal space for us to buy things without bidding against you, because it removes your money from circulation temporarily. That means we, the US government, can buy more stuff and use it to increase the amount of goods and services you can buy with your money when the bond matures, while keeping the supply of dollars and the supply of dollar-denominated stuff in rough equilibrium."

So a bond isn't a debt – it's more like a savings account. When you move money from your checking to your savings, you reduce its liquidity, meaning the bank can treat it as a reserve without worrying quite so much about you spending it. In exchange, the bank gives you some interest, as a carrot.

I know, I know, this is a big-ass wall of text. Congrats if you made it this far! But here's the upshot. We should tax billionaires, because it will reduce their economic power and thus their political power.

But we absolutely don't need to tax billionaires to have nice things. For example: the US government could hire every single unemployed person without creating inflationary pressure on wages, because inflation only happens when the US government tries to buy something that the private sector is also trying to buy, bidding up the price. To be "unemployed" is to have labor that the private sector isn't trying to buy. They're synonyms. By definition, the feds could put every unemployed person to work (say, training one another to be teachers, construction workers, etc – and then going out and taking care of the sick, addressing the housing crisis, etc etc) without buying any labor that the private sector is also trying to buy.

What's even more true than this is that our taxes are not going to reduce the national debt. That guest you had who said, "Even if we tax billionaires, we will never pay off the national debt,"" was 100% right, because the national debt equals all the money in circulation.

Which is why that guest was also very, very wrong when she said, "We will have to tax normal people too in order to pay off the debt." We don't have to pay off the debt. We shouldn't pay off the debt. We can't pay off the debt. Paying off the debt is another way of saying "eliminating the dollar."

Taxation isn't a way for the government to pay for things. Taxation is a way to create demand for US dollars, to convince people to sell goods and services to the US government, and to constrain private sector spending, which creates fiscal space for the US government to buy goods and services without bidding up their prices.

And in a "classical physics" sense, all of the preceding is kinda a way of saying, "Taxes pay for government spending." As a rough approximation, you can think of taxes like this and generally not get into trouble.

But when you start to make policy – when you contemplate when, whether, and how much to tax billionaires – you leave behind the crude, high-level approximation and descend into the nitty-gritty world of things as they are, and you need to jettison the convenience of the easy-to-grasp approximation.

If you're interested in learning more about this, you can tune into this TED Talk by Stephanie Kelton, formerly formerly advisor to the Senate Budget Committee chair, now back teaching and researching econ at University of Missouri at Kansas City:

https://www.ted.com/talks/stephanie_kelton_the_big_myth_of_government_deficits?subtitle=en

Stephanie has written a great book about this, The Deficit Myth:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/14/everybody-poops/#deficit-myth

There's a really good feature length doc about it too, called "Finding the Money":

https://findingmoneyfilm.com/

If you'd like to read more of my own work on this, here's a column I wrote about the nature of currency in light of Web3, crypto, etc:

https://locusmag.com/2022/09/cory-doctorow-moneylike/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/21/we-can-have-nice-things/#public-funds-not-taxpayer-dollars

#pluralistic #mmt #modern monetary theory #warren buffett #podcasts #pj vogt #billionaires #economics #we can have nice things #taxes #taxing billionaires #the irs files #irs files #jesse eisenger #propublica

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endursent · 16 days ago

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- My Partner Turned Into A Cat And I Don't Know How To Fix It (3)

【 content; established relationship , fluff , humour , gn!reader 】

【 characters; aventurine , blade , dr. ratio , jiaoqiu , jing yuan , moze , sunday 】

【 premise; " You have been struck with a curse of some sort which has turned you into a cat, your partner has no idea how to fix it nor how long it might take. Yet he also cannot help but be rather amused by the situation despite the uncertainty…" 】

【 note; happens independently of other chapters of course 】

【 word count; 4.308 | read on ao3 | hsr their ver | gi their ver | gi reader ver 】

Aventurine;

He’s not in any hurry to get you back to normal, he likes to have you on his lap as he meets with some poor subordinates—perhaps it makes him feel like an intimidating figure from a movie—stroking your back and leaning back against the expensive desk chair he spent a few weeks waiting on the shipment for just last month.

You don’t complain, he pets you and gives you treats for being still and quiet—but as soon as whoever he was meeting with leaves, he scoops you up in his arms and smiles widely, lifting you up by holding under your front legs so that you dangle like a sausage. “Such a good kitty,” he coos and kisses your furry belly with exaggerated sounds. Earning himself some whacking and hissing for the annoying display and uncomfortable position.

Aventurine buys luxury cat food for you, only the best for his favourite (also only) little furball… only to scratch his head over the fact you won’t eat any of it. He knows your noggin is all right, but he didn’t expect you to reject the stinky—though nutritious—food. He gave up after a few tries and gave you some chicken, cheese and egg… a strange combo, but you’re hungry.

An instinctual need comes over you to scratch, to dig your claws into something and stretch them—preferably into something—but every single damned furniture in his apartment costs more credits than you accumulate in three months. He’s completely stumped by your insistent meowing and complaining of restless boredom, being left home alone to do NOTHING while he works for a majority of the day.

Adorable as it is, Aventurine just does not understand what you want, he cleaned the litter box three times, he gave you some nice cheese—he even gave you a tablet to type what you needed on, but your paws are clumsy and it came out rather incomprehensibly. Eventually, you couldn’t fight it anymore and left marks on one of the sleek dining table chairs. He didn’t seem too upset and after looking up your behavioural clues (now with the scratching evidence) he found out you simply felt restless and needed to stretch and flex your claws. Now you have a scratching post you’ll have to resell when this is over (hopefully you will go back to normal soon…)

Only two days in, and Aventurine has about three hundred pictures of you… in this form, he also has more than enough normal pictures of you. Snapping one at every angle—the way your pupils widen and narrow in different circumstances, catching you cleaning yourself, a funny, blurred picture of you mid-yawning where he stuck his finger into your mouth and got himself a prick of your fangs and yanked his hand away.

He snuggles against you in bed, holding you tightly to himself and nuzzling his face into your belly again—not even leaving small scratches on his forehead gets him to let go. “Stop wriggling, you’re soft and warm—you wouldn’t leave me to sleep alone, would you? So cruel,” he guilts you, smiling all the same.

Aventurine is well equipped to handle some separation for a time, after all, he goes weeks—sometimes months without your presence depending what the IPC needs of him, so you KNOW he can handle a few nights without having you squeezed to his chest. But your argumentative meowing doesn’t convince him to let go.

He’s never owned a pet before, and it shows. He’s lucky you’re merciful.

But can you help yourself? No. As his eyes drift shut and the sounds of the megacity outside the windows mellow into quieter hums and the majority of citizens retreat for the night… you smuggle against him, whiskers squished uncomfortably and tail swaying, tickling his forearm. You wouldn’t dare wake him, every wink of peaceful sleep is precious and if holding you in this furry form the Aeons have cursed upon you for the next days gives him comfortable rest, then you will be uncomfortable for a few nights. You’ll live.

Blade;

The door slides open, your small ears flicking towards the sound as you blink towards Blade’s approaching form. He looks unhappy—annoyed, even. You don’t even have time to meow curiously before he’s hauling you upwards and carrying you under his arm.

Your protests fall on deaf ears as you hiss and flail, you feel like he’s going to drop you any second, plus, it’s uncomfortable!!

Thankfully, he puts you down relatively quickly, plopping you down on a sofa before sitting down himself… you shake yourself and sit down, squinting at him… what does he want? Blade doesn’t look at you, merely folds his arms over his chest and sits in silence. Okay, you’re trained in Blade-communication, kind of—fetching you abruptly… not looking at you…

He wants affection.

Fair enough, you’ve got plenty—though it’s difficult to express it like this. Stretching for a moment, Blade watches as you rub your cheek into his side before hopping onto his lap, tail swaying lazily as you stare up at him—as if trying to either read his mind or get him to start talking. Good luck with both.

You raise your paw and whack at his chest, meowing attentively.

Blade frowns and takes your front leg, holding it softly. He presses his thumb on the beans beneath your paw and watches as claws instinctively emerge… he doesn’t say anything as the then opens your mouth and inspects the sharp fangs there before Blade nods and pats your head stiffly.

You’re not entirely sure what he was doing—perhaps checking to make sure you had the components to defend yourself? It would be in line—but you sit still while he does. After the stiff pet, you lean into his hand and chase after it as he pulls away. His hand stills as you reach into it, and he resumes the pet.

“There are times I wish you were this quiet,” he utters, large hand practically engulfing your small, furry head. “But now that you are unable to talk my ears off, I find that perhaps I didn’t mind it as much as I imagined.”

Your tail sways a little faster, maybe he finds it easier to talk to you like this? When there’s not really a ‘person’ staring back at him, making him face himself in the reflection of human eyes. You wonder if he talks to animals he passes by like this.

Of course, Blade knows you can hear him, that you understand his words… but it is the inherent humanity in your gaze that halts his words, and now that there’s just… this fuzzy little creature who happens to be you in front of him. He finds it easier.

That’s alright, you don’t need him to carve out his heart and lay it on a platter in front of you.

Dr. Ratio;

Ratio clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Come down from there, stop acting like a child,” he knows you’re in the form of a cat right now—but your conscious is not. You’re fully capable of acting like the adult you are. He’s holding a tablet he was, at this point, trying to force into your mouth.

Like an idiot, a very hungry idiot, you had ‘helped yourself’ to some lunch in the break room fridge… which, as Ratio had told you very firmly, is NOT for cat consumption.

So now, he was trying to get you to hurriedly throw it up before you start to digest it,and you are NOT making it easy for him—he’s trying to HELP you damn it.

Ratio’s lab is not a place for cats, in fact it’s only a place for him. You happen to come there often whether he wants it or not, but it’s his space where he can concentrate and focus on his work… your presence doesn’t necessarily disturb him, and you do bring him lunch and coffee—but in this form?

He had to lock you in a box.

You had tried to knock something over on one of his workbenches—entirely instinctively, you didn’t do it intentionally, to your defence—and then you had eaten that pasta lathered in sauce and vegetables not suited for cats, especially the heap of garlic in it.

And thus… you meow and wail pathetically, he placed the box onto a table, and it has bars on one side—so you’re breathing perfectly fine, as well as seeing out of it. Nevertheless, you sound like he’s torturing you?? He’s given you perfectly suitable snacks and entertainment while he finishes work. It’s your fault for not behaving.

But as he lets you out at the end of the day and you strut out of the box sulking, with a lowered tail and flattened ears, he sighs.

Ratio picks you up into his arms and rubs your furry cheek with his thumb, both an annoyed and amused glint in his eyes. “I am trying to find a solution to your little predicament, and you’re not making it easy for me. Would you feel better to be left at home?”

You meow in protest, at least here you can watch him work, you’ll try to reign in these pesky instincts!

Ratio hums, he pokes your nose and you sneeze lightly. “Very well, I’ll put you back into the box at the first sign of mischief.” Cruel.

You’re on your best behaviour, you sit and watch patiently as he swipes through datapads, searching for any information on how to get you back to your usual self. He doesn’t complain as you stretch and hop onto his lap, curling up on his thighs and laying your head against his stomach.

Absentmindedly, as he types and ponders, Ratio begins stroking your back. You’re surprisingly soft—not that it’s unexpected for a cat’s fur to be soft… but he doesn’t pet cats very often. You begin to rumble, a deep purr leaving you as you snooze comfortably on his lap. Ratio huffs, scratching behind your ears. “I’ll get you back to normal soon… but you are rather amusing like this.”

He’s a rather good… pet owner (you don’t really like thinking that, but it rings rather true for this situation), he gives you space when you need it and always feeds you on time. Ratio lets you come to him and doesn’t yoink you back when you decide you don’t want to lay on him anymore.

He also gives the best scritches, out of everyone in the world (in your opinion (he’s also the only one giving you scritches)) and manages to reach the spot behind your ears perfectly. You meow up a storm in protest when he stops and he sighs before continuing. He supposes this is his life for the time being.

Jiaoqiu;

He finds endless enjoyment in your… predicament. He wriggles strings and makes you chase after shadows, Jiaoqiu even “accidentally” tossed the covers over your sleeping form on the bed—causing you to tangle yourself and get stuck in them.

Apparently the loud, distressed and helpless meowing was funny, so he said as he freed you.

He doesn’t tease you too much, thankfully—it was mostly over the first few days that he found amusement in the situation. But as six days come and go, he starts to get a bit worried, he hadn’t seen how it happened, he had only come home and thought a cat had wriggled through the crack in the windows and was going to put it outside and shoo it to go to their own home…

You thankfully managed to convince him, but despite consulting with the Alchemy Commission and even asking some colleagues if anyone else had mysteriously turned into a cat… he had no answers.

You tried to join him along for the day, chasing after him as he left your home to meet up with Feixiao, but after noticing you were trailing him from a small distance, he shooed you back home, saying he wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on you, and he didn’t want you to get swept up by anything.

Unfortunately for him, you’re stubborn, and you don’t want to just sit around and home doing nothing but napping—tempting as it sounds. So you go around him, you know your way around the Yaoqing and easily sneak up on the three of them as they meet in a populated square.

Well, “sneaking up on” Feixiao, Moze and Jiaoqiu is practically impossible—before you know it, a large hand swoops you up and you’re met with violet, suspicious eyes.

You meow, attempting to explain yourself, but as you’re brought to Feixiao and Jiaoqiu, your partner pinches the bridge of his nose and explains that it’s just you. He had already come to them for help, but hadn’t actually brought you along—and surprisingly, Feixiao seemed rather happy to have you along.

And thus, you came along to some meeting and a boring day on the job, but it wasn’t so bad. You looped around Jiaoqiu’s legs as he stood and sat by his side, happy to be tagging along. He sighs and pets you, as much as he enjoys your presence, he is a bit worried that he doesn’t know how to reverse this… for now, he will accept the affection and slight neediness from you to be close to him.

He lies down in your home come evening, tired from both the day as well as having to keep an eye on you so you hadn’t wandered about and got lost or separated from him.

You hop onto his chest, stretching before kneading on his shirt happily, glad that you were allowed to tag along. You dig your claws into him and purr happily. Jiaoqiu can’t help but smile and rub your ears, you’re too cute like this. “I feel that I worry about you constantly, even before you… were rather unexpectedly turned into a cat,” he hums to himself. “You don’t make it easy for me either, how did you get yourself into this predicament? Perhaps I should have you type your responses on a keyboard.”

You can only purr and meow in response, much as you’d like to recount the incredibly stupid way this happened.

At least, you can sleep soundly for the night—so long as you stick close to him, he doesn’t want you to wander off and get another curse slapped on top of this one.

Jing Yuan;

He’s… a little envious. Just a little.

He gets over it quickly, at first he was rather concerned—how had this happened? Is it dangerous? Hopefully reversible… but when he realises that you’re fully conscious and don’t feel ill or strange (other than what would be reasonable when your body changes like this), he relaxes slightly. He himself doesn’t have many leads, but he sends those who can figure this out on the task to do so. Meanwhile… he likes to cuddle with you.

Now that isn’t so unsurprising, Jing Yuan very much doesn’t like to give you a centimetre for yourself in your bed—but this is a little absurd. You’re always either on his lap, on his chest if he’s laying down, next to him (touching his thigh or leg) or even on his shoulders when he’s walking around… though you don’t really like that last part, you always feel like you’re one sharp turn from tumbling to the floor.

He loves to pamper you, pet you, rub your cheeks and ears, scratch behind them, feed you treats—you’re not like Mimi! That lion needs heaps of food per day to merely survive, but you’re small, you don’t need the massive bowl of fish he just brought you?!

While you appreciate the enthusiasm, and thought, you sneak much of it to Mimi, who is more than happy to eat some of your food… a little too happy, you once thought they were going to eat you too.

Jing Yuan is often busy, and as you mostly just see each other after and before work—except when you sneak him out for lunch or have a nap when you really should be doing something productive (he has that effect on people)—he’s rather happy to spend this much time with you now, even if you’re in a different form.

However… he does not stop kissing your nose and belly, every time he kisses your nose you sneeze—and you don’t like it when he’s poking around your belly, but no amount of hissing or whacking gets him to stop! At this point, you’ve hidden at the top of a high cabinet in the Seat of Divine Foresight. Watching Jing Yuan from above as he searches for you, trying to lure you out with some delicious smelling cheese… no! Get a hold of yourself, he’s trying to bait you out!

You start to realise how Mimi feels when you keep kissing and rubbing their tummy… it’s just so soft, you can’t help it, but you get it now… it’s not nice for the cat!

Eventually, Jing Yuan compromises, no kisses on the tummy… but twice the kisses on the head. You accept his terms.

The results of how to turn you back are going slowly, and so Jing Yuan gets you comfortable—no need for a cat bed though, everyone in this house, feline and not, sleeps on or around the bed. Though Mimi is not allowed on the bed when the Luofu’s weather systems display hotter temperatures, you would quite possibly perish if you had both Jing Yuan’s radiating body AND Mimi on both sides.

Thankfully, your fur regulates your heat very well—not so fortunate for Jing Yuan that you feel a need to lay on his chest over the night and he wakes up five times because you keep going back after he moves you next to him. It’s his fault, he insisted you lay on him constantly at the start, he trained you to do this.

He is rather careful that when you and Mimi play around that the lion doesn’t accidentally… eat you, or crush you—Mimi is socialised with people rather well and doesn’t chase animals too much, but they have always been the only cat in the house. Thankfully it seems Mimi at least somewhat recognises that you’re still you, despite stinking of “foreign cat in my house”.

Mimi also has given you precisely four baths in the last week, you look like you were tossed in a blender after they’ve licked you clean.

Moze;

He has you tucked into a cloth bag he made to carry you around. you meow in concern, as you feel that accompanying him of stealth and espionage missions isn’t… the best idea.

“It’s fine, you’re in no danger,” he assures… surprisingly, Moze is very good at deciphering what you’re trying to communicate. He reaches back and pets your head before leaping down from the ledge he stood on.

You hold on for dear life, digging your claws into his back. Why couldn’t you just stay at home and nap?!

The mission was short and only for the purpose of gathering information… but you felt like you were either going to be discovered, going to be tossed off Moze’s back, going to die, and become paste on the ground (you will have a long discussion about these leaps of faith once you’re back to normal) through the entire thing.

He does comfort and give you some nice fish in the aftermath… but you will not be accompanying him again. Lesson learned. Moze didn’t seem disappointed either way, it doesn’t seem that he minded taking you along—you thought he was teaching you a lesson, but he actually just does all that all the time?! You understand his job… but does he have to leap from such high perches??

As usual, Moze decides to take a bath after the mission, and picks you up… as it to make you join him? You are not going into the water, you accidentally stepped in your water bowl a day ago, you know the feeling that will kill you inside.

Near violently thrashing, hissing, meowing and using any display of “PLEASE DON’T PUT ME IN THE WATER” you can, Moze finally lets you go. He hums and touches his chin in thought. “You should clean yourself, then. We got dirty on the mission, you can’t go into bed like that.”

… clean yourself? Like, licking?

He must have understood the dumb look you’re giving him (cats do have a distinct “what did you just say to me” look) and shrugs. “Don’t break your own rules.”

You did set a rule that he had to wash after missions, not that you necessarily had to—Moze is very hygienic, but sometimes… he is a bit too tired, which is when you would just get up and wash him yourself while he dozes off in the tub. It’s nice.

… a comfortable memory, but he looks very nonchalantly serious. You do need to clean yourself if you won’t let him toss you in the tub (which you wont).

It’s a bit awkward at first, and you hiss at Moze when he stands and watches you—it’s embarrassing enough already!—until he nods and turns to the bathroom… it takes longer than you would have imagined, and also is very meticulous, but eventually you feel much cleaner and better and realise that it wasn’t so bad.

Happy and feeling lighter, you hop into bed (you’re still faster than it takes Moze to bathe) and curl up… exhausted, you fall asleep immediately, only rousing when the bed dips next to you and Moze strokes along your back for a while, you don't move, feeling very comfortable… until you feel a small bump of a kiss on top of your head, between your now perked ears.

He lays down properly, on his side as you flop on your back and get comfortable. Despite the uncomfortable instincts to knock things over, and having to groom yourself… sleeping is very comfortable in this body. Or maybe it’s just being next to Moze.

Sunday;

Sunday is lucky if he even gets to have you around. As soon as you’re suddenly a cat, half the Express is suddenly very interested in keeping you to themselves. Of course, March kidnapped you from Sunday’s room the morning after—it gave him a bit of a fright, at first you had suddenly become a cat, now you had disappeared, but he calmed slightly when he saw March putting a bowtie around your neck and dressing you up using some costumes she uses for Pom Pom… you’re quite a bit smaller than Pom Pom, but March makes it work.

He finally managed to free you, one might think you’ve just been through some horrors as your claws cling to his clothes and he sets you down on your bed. Sunday tries to calm and assure you, but it takes a while for you to get over the traumatising event until you fall asleep.

After being passed around like a plushy, the Express gets over the fact that their fellow member has now become a cat, and instead start pondering how it happened and how to fix it. Sunday does what he can to research what to do, but he can’t help thinking… you’re very cute like this. Your large eyes that stare at him as he goes back and forth tending to chores on the Express (he decided to handle your as well while you’re in this form), your tail sways when he comes closer and slows when he walks past you. You don’t even notice that he does it deliberately a few times, just because he thinks it’s rather adorable.

He also makes sure to take good care of you, even in ways that’s not really necessary, like brushing your fur and making sure there’s no tangles or knots… it does feel very nice, when you loaf on his lap and he drags the brush over your back.

Sunday does however try to brush your teeth one time, which becomes a chasing game where you eventually hid in the engine room to avoid him—your teeth are perfectly fine! No need to brush! (There is a need to, but it’s uncomfortable!)

“...? Why are you—?” you leap into the air, a startled yowl leaving you as Pom Pom is suddenly behind you, they in turn also shout in surprise and your hiding spot is quickly discovered when Himeko comes running to see what was wrong.

Sunday did apologise and didn’t try to mess with your teeth again, thankfully. You hopefully won’t be stuck like this for long… would damage even come to your actual teeth? Does damage carry over? Will you be hairier when you return to normal??

You like to be near Sunday, following him around and watching what he’s doing day around—he doesn’t really know what’s going through your head, but he doesn’t mind you either, you don’t get in his way at all. He stops to pet you occasionally and gives good scratches under your chin, your purring makes him happy that you like to be petted so much by him—especially after Dan Heng’s quite clumsy petting. He meant well, but the patting was effectively smacking on your head a few times.

“I much prefer you as normal,” Sunday says as he strokes you from head to swaying tail. “I don’t quite hold the same conversational skills as you do, holding it up by myself is quite difficult.”

You wouldn’t say that you’re “conversationally skilled”, it’s rather Sunday that is rather quiet now that he has boarded the Express. Not that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone… he just has much to think about, and your voice takes him out of his head.

“Meow for me?” he rubs your right ear. “Even your voice as a small cat sounds like you. I wish to hear it.”

827 notes · View notes

gumiluver · 4 months ago

Text

YOU BULLY! ~ JJK NSFW SCENARIOS

synopsis: they just can’t help but bully such a sweet thing like you <3

cover pic credit: @/tyler19844 on pinterest | border credit: @/cafekitsune

luvers <3: afab!reader, gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, zen’in/fushiguro toji, ryomen sukuna

byr/byi: the content in this fic is not suitable for individuals under the age of 18, minors please do not interact (you will be blocked!) | wc: 4.7k

cw: toxic relationships, p in v sex, pussy smacking (satoru), dacryphilia (satoru, kento) , overstimulation (satoru), edging (satoru), pet names (all luvers <3), slight exhibitionism (suguru), gaslighting (suguru), spanking (kento), power imbalance (kento), size kink (kento, toji), manhandling (kento, toji, sukuna), daddy kink (kento), blowjob (toji), facefucking (toji), brat taming (toji, sukuna), mean toji :(, cervix fucking (sukuna), double dicked ‘kuna <3

A/N: I went crazy with toru & toji #sorrynotsorry :3

SATORU G. -> THE TEASE 🖤

To tease or to torture? For Satoru, there’s no in between. There can be bliss in being teased to a point of torture, and Satoru loves to see you tumble and fall into a pit of uncharted euphoria that has you ready to start crying from pleasure.

A sly sadist in reality, especially when it comes to a pretty little thing like you who saunters and sways around him so delicately, so tantalizingly, basically begging to be touched and bruised by the all-seeing sorcerer.

But when you cry so sweetly for him to ease up, to stop teasing you, to just fuck your brain stupid, he can’t help but tease you just a bit more to drive you to the brink of insanity.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already this wet?” Satoru snickers, pride lacing his words as he stares down at your drooling pussy that’s just crying for him. He trails his fingers slowly towards your inner thighs, watching you shiver with anticipation and need.

You’re huffing in frustration, feebly bucking your hips upwards to make Satoru touch you harder, firmer. If you could, you’d shove his stupidly big hand out of the way so you could hop on his dick and fucking finish the job, but it seemed tonight would not play into your favor.

Your clit was throbbing, borderline aching with want and need, and if you didn’t get it soon you swear you were gonna start—

“Aww—you cryin’ now, sweet girl? Heh, needy little thing aren’t ya,” he chuckles, a condescending smile gracing his face as he gives your pussy a small smack—earning Satoru a pretty squeal from your throat that had your eyes squeezing shut.

He won’t lie, he does feel a tad bit bad when he sees your eyes and nose scrunched up like that. A twinge undeniably forming in his chest, but the twinge in his cock made all that sympathy go out the window. It made him want to smack it again, and again, and again.

He dances his fingers along your pussy, rubbing slow, circular motions to soothe your mound and make you hum in appreciation. His hand becoming more and more slicked from your essence, and fuck—he really couldn’t help himself now.

“Like fuckin’ music to my ears baby,” he growls, giving your pussy three more smacks, effectively making those fat princess tears fall down your cheeks as you grace him with a cry of his name so delicious that it fucking poisons him with thoughts of consuming you.

He brings the hand that smacked your pussy up towards his nose, and you can hear him heave a sigh—no, a growl—that could only be described as primal. Your scent alone has him throwing his head back and fisting his cock in his hand; ooohhh no, it’s far too late for him to return to his playfully pleasant self now—you’re fucked.

He grips the base of his shaft tightly while lining his cock up with your entrance, but instead of sheathing inside you fully he only dips his tip in and stills—fucking. stills.

The annoyed groan that slips past your lips couldn’t be helped really. Before you could scold him, you see (and hear) him suck his hand clean of your cum.

Groaning deeply from the taste, he gets lost in the divinity of you and inadvertently thrusts his tip inside you further, making you choke out a cry as he closes his eyes to revel in this beautiful fucking bliss.

“js’ fuckin’ put it in, ‘toru” you snap, panting and huffing at him out of sheer frustration. You were losing it, getting so fed up from his senseless torture that you start debating on finishing the job yourself—again.

He was too pussydrunk—forgoing the moment to forever basque in your cunt. You just needed to slide a hand down there so you could pamper your neglected clit but surely enough, your plans become thwarted by the very person inflicting your demise—again.

“If you don’t like my teasing, then why are you moaning—,” he questions, quickly reaching for your sneaky hands and pins them above your head with a single one of his.

“—why are you so wet—” he continues, trailing his other hand down the crevices of your body, paying special attention to your most delicate areas. To make sure you were paying attention to him, he hovers his hand over your pussy again as if he were to spank it, not even caring if his dick would get caught in the crossfire.

“—and why aren’t you pushing me away, hm?” he punctuates his argument with a sudden and firm thrust of his cock, fully sheathing you so far down his shaft that you can fucking *taste* him. You’re seeing white, instantly arching into Satoru’s touch, screaming out a cacophony of different versions of his name. All prior thoughts leave your mind at the sudden intrusion, finally feeling some semblance of friction to push you closer to the edge.

And, yet again, he stills.

He grins wickedly, wanting to see what your next actions are. He sees the gears in your head are shifting and quickly rests his other hand on your tummy, effectively immobilizing you to him. Gojo didn’t have to look at you to know that you were about to lose it. What’s one more push hm?

“Do you think you deserve my cock?” he says, but the long and drawn out whimper that leaves your lips was enough to tell him you’re about to tumble forward and give in to him. The fat tears falling down your cherry cheeks, drool smeared across your face, the small little grunts and stifled moans you give whenever you try and move your hips to feel more of his cock, everything about you told Satoru how much you wanted him.

But he wanted to hear you say it, and he wasn’t moving until he gets his way.

“C’mon sweet girl, tell me—do you deserve it?”

SUGURU G. -> THE MANIPULATOR 🖤

Suguru loves an easy target, and it’s even better knowing how sweet this particular target can be—if he sets the pace right.

He makes it seem as if it were your fault that you were in this predicament. Who falls for these sorts of stints anyways? It’s like you wanted him to take control of you and make you his little plaything.

It was simple enough to get you cornered, noticing your pretty face in the halls and asking you for a helping hand, lowering those charming eyes to meet your nervous ones.

And while he never seemed like a threat towards his followers who were always so enamored by his handsome features, they were oblivious to the way his eyes held a dangerous desire for something more.

“I know you think about me at night, little one,” suguru states, nonchalantly discarding his long robes and placing them on the coat rack next to his armseat. The halls are quiet, his followers nowhere in sight as the morning sun starts to rise. They were sure to come soon though—they always do.

“I—what? I-I’m sorry?” You’re shocked, completely caught off guard from the suddenly intrusive question.

“I know you heard me well little one, don’t make me repeat it,” he chastises, eyes lowering coolly to reinforce his power and authority. “After all, why else would you be here? Roaming around the halls at such an hour—so eager to help get me settled in, isn’t it?”

“Huh?? N-no!! Geto—sir, it’s not really like tha-“

“Oh? Is that so?” he’s quick to interrupt you, taunting over your lack of confidence in your own response. You stammer, choking up on your own words. Truthfully, you couldn’t come up with a reason as to your promptness—rough night of sleep? First day jitters?

Who cares—your decision to show up early has landed you here, in this predicament, facing the man you decided to join and lend your services to. He paid well, offered a high per diem rate, and he was well loved. Barely any jujutsu sorcerer outside of Japan had poor responses towards Suguru—at least the ones you’ve heard back from—so what else were you to expect?

“Are you saying—,” he starts, grabbing your hips roughly and pulling you down with him to sit on his lap, his body resting against his classic armseat that oversees his followers. Your back pushed up tightly against his strong chest with firm hands stripping you of your shirt, “—you didn’t want to see me as much as them? ”

As if on queue, shuffles of footsteps can be heard grace the temple walls, eager chatting spread like wildfire that gathered outside the doors of Suguru’s common area—right where the two of you were.

Your heart stills, eyes widening as you try to shuffle out of his hold, but his grip is firm—like steel plates against your lap and hips. Sneaky fingers linger along the band of your bra and swiftly unclasps it, stripping you of it and throwing it aside. A small shriek escapes your lips, but you’re quick to cover your mouth to conceal your noises—wouldn’t want anyone catching the two of you now, or would you?

“Shhh now, I’ll give you what you want. Try to stay quiet, understand?” he whispers, licking the shell of your ear as a hand comes up to grope your breast while the other moves down to your skirt, bunching it up to your waist, revealing your pretty panties to him. A slow, steady trace from hig calloused finger against your clothed cunny has you silently sobbing, quiet little shrills of pleasure escape past your mouth and through your hand, and all it does is rile him up even more, pushing you deeper into his web of lascivious madness, “behave—don’t make me gag you.”

You shiver, squeezing your eyes shut and grounding yourself back to sanity by reaching around your head and gripping his hair. A soft groan now comes out from suguru, and he takes your newfound boldness as an opportunity to dip his finger into your depths and tests the waters—and fuck did it feel like fucking heaven.

He was touching literal heaven, flustered beyond belief at how simply sinking you down on his fingers has him feeling like he’s going to fucking burst. The sheer feeling of your tight walls constricting around the girth of his fingers has him bucking his hips up in agony, dreaming—yearning for the feel of your pretty princess cunny wrapped around his hard shaft. He trails his opposite hand along the side of your body, molding his grip to your curve as he molds your pussy to his fingers.

“I would’ve wanted to fuck you from behind, but then I wouldn’t get to see those pretty eyes of yours,” he whispers, suddenly turning your body so that you could face him. You see that he’s still clothed, contrasting your naked skin that glows in the sunlight and shines through the windows. Suguru can’t help the growl that leaves his mouth, so desperate and needy, as if he were dying from hunger—a starved beast.

“‘m not stopping ‘til I make a fuckin’ mess out a ya, and I won’t care if you cry. In fact—“ he paused, cock straining ridiculously in his pants, impaling you back down on his fingers but this time even faster—harder. He maneuvers his thumb to meet your clit, rubbing nasty little circles on it, wiggling his pinky throughout your folds to caress your sopping lips so tenderly—you think you just might pass out.

“—let me hear you cry out for me, let my followers hear your screams rattle the fucking halls.”

KENTO N. -> THE SUPERIOR 🖤

It’s hard—being a jujutsu sorcerer, that is. Curse, after curse, after damned curse until the sorcerer itself gives in, body and mind.

Thankfully, Kento’s found a way to relieve that pressure, that tension—you, his precious subordinate. A kohai, if you will.

While his methods of stress relief aren’t exactly considered ethically sound, he just can’t help but preen from how willing and eager his precious little kohai is to please him.

And yet, he’d never admit how fucking hard it gets him to see you take his punishments like the perfect little slut he knows you are, even if you did nothing wrong.

“Bend over.”

Silence.

You can’t quite pinpoint the exact reason behind his anger, especially since it seemed directed towards you—you just got here!!

‘Did I forget to turn in the last mission report? Was I suppose to meet up with him to close out a mission? Oh crap—I returned his book to him right?!?’ your brain wracking up a multitude of different catastrophic events that you almost miss his question again.

“I’m not kidding, sweetheart. Bend. Over.” you hear him repeat himself, but this time his voice lowers an octave. His sharp voice draws your attention back to him, and you take a moment to notice his appearance. He’s rolling the cuffs of his sleeves up to his forearm, girthy veins bulging along his arms that make him seem so fucking huge it has you internally gasping at the thought of how his cock would deliciously ruin you.

The atmosphere in the room quickly shifts to one that the two of you were always so familiar with, yet too ethical to pursue. While you were only a year or two younger than him, being his subordinate—let alone a kohai—made this affair much more dangerous than need be. But work always came first, especially since Nanami was overseeing your skills to determine if you qualified for individual work.

Guess that goes out the window today.

Before he could repeat himself for a third time, you turn your body around for him and lean across his desk, presenting him your pretty ass that was covered—a present for him to unwrap.

He makes haste towards you, pulling at his tie and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his dress shirt in the midst of his stride. Once behind you, he pushes a hand down onto the middle of your back and thrusts his hips against your plump rear, making you feel the length of his dick through his pants and your skirt. The thrust of his hips and the pressure on your back has your lower body lurching forward and pulls a nasty arch out of your back, further presenting your ass to your sensei.

He rips your skirt off—reminding himself to purchase a new one for you once he’s finished—and stares at you beneath him. The tent in his slacks painfully reminding him of how much he’d love to ram right inside your sweet warmth, but he’d get to that part later.

Oh yes, he plans to play with his precious kohai first.

“So soft…” he says, rubbing a gruff hand along the flesh of your cheeks. He presses his thumbs deeply into your ass, as if he were trying to massage them—*prep* them, for the experience you’re sure to endure, “gonna look so pretty with my handprint decorating it.”

Your heart stutters, butterflies flutter down to your core as you shift your weight from side to side. Slowly, you sway your hips to and fro as Nanami continues to palm at your rear—a dangerous dance certain to make him give in and swoon-

SMACK!!

Or not.

The shriek you let out makes his hips jerk forward, a sudden shockwave of pleasure shooting down kento’s spine that he can’t help but rub his clothed cock against your barely clothed pussy. The flimsy fabric hardly providing any barrier between your cunt and his tip, too fucking wet that it just transfers through.

Another smack fills the air and this time you scream out for him, “sir plea—AGHH!!”

“That’s not what you call me here, try again,” he snarls, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he lands another sharp smack to your ass, “address me, correctly.”

“ngh!! m’sorry d-daddy—ACK!!” you choke out a scream, your rear starting to feel as if it were burned by a hot pan or iron. Fat tears stream down your cheeks, and while Kento would be sympathetic and give you a break—he was too tripped up on the way you cried out so beautifully just for him.

After all, he can feel the slick of your cunt leak down his clothed shaft, staining his pants with a pool of your essence—poor pussy so neglected that she’s crying for attention.

“I know it hurts, sweetheart, but that’s what happens when you don’t do what I say. I told you I needed those jujutsu books back for that convention.”

TOJI F. -> THE BRUTE 🖤

Toji’s always been the kind of man to just push his way through any given situation. A man of sheer, brute strength, it would be foolish for anyone to try and challenge him.

Yet the little brat in you couldn’t help but try and chip away at his ego at any given chance, never allowing him to trample over your tenacity.

It piqued his interest honestly, such a small little lady like you was clearly no match for a big brute like him, so why don’t you just give in?

Unfortunately for you, that bratty behavior of yours would be your own personal undoing.

“You better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, doll.”

Now, while his fighting style may seem aggressive and intrusive—hell, he can be a fucking animal when he gets into the rhythm of it. But with you? He was the complete antithesis. Collected, observant, even mindful over his physical prowess—never wanting to scare you. The stark difference in demeanor on how he treats you can even be noted by Shiu (he thinks it’s cute).

But lately, you’ve seemed to be pushing his limits. Taking bigger risks while on jobs, snapping at him over his own fumbles during missions (and gambles), and now you criticize his recent decision (mistake) which led to the two of you losing the lead that promised a hefty sum of coin. It was a fair guess, an “educated assumption” on his part but still, this would have been a huuuge benefit to the two of you.

“Put my mou—y’know what?? I’d like to see you fuckin’ try, old man,” you snap back at him, fuming at your colleagues lack of concern over the failed mission, “wouldn’t be surprised if you had a heart attack or something.”

The tension in the room was getting thicker and thicker, blurring between the lines of lust and power as the two of you glare at each other, battling for dominance. There was only so much toji could take before he snaps, and that last smart comment of yours is what sealed the deal for you.

He strides to you with intent clear as day, and your eyes widen before you find yourself being backed into a corner by him. He slams a hand against the wall while his other one comes up to grip your chin roughly, jerking your head upwards to look up at him—forcing your gaze back to meet his raging one. His hand was big enough to grip your jaw and neck, fuck he was huge.

A cynical laugh escapes his lips, the way your eyes light up with fire at his actions made him all the more eager to break you down to his pliant princess, “oh, m’gonna make you fuckin’ eat those words, doll.”

He grasps the nape of your neck and wraps his fingers in your hair, pulling you down to your knees, making you face his angrily covered cock. A small groan escapes your lips at his roughness, but your eyes incite a challenge—is that all ya got?

He shoves his sweats and boxers down, not even bothering to take them all the way off—too eager to get his dick wet by his fiery little colleague. He gives you a one over, noting how your once cocky eyes now seem to be a tad bit…fearful. He almost feels bad for chuckling at your reaction but then again, you brought this on yourself.

“js’ gonna stare at it, or does this old man gotta do all the work here?” he grips the base of his cock tightly, heaving it up towards your mouth. He smacks his tip upon your lips, smothering them with his precum.

The raunchy moan that left your mouth was embarrassing, but you can’t deny how fucking desirable it made you feel seeing his ferociousness over you. His eagerness, abrasiveness, dominance—all of these pointed to his clear want and desire for you and you alone.

And while you could be evil and tease him for becoming so needy over ‘his doll’ you decide to give in to your lust for him.

Opening your mouth slowly, you allow his tip to dance along your pink tongue. Taking in his taste, you coo and push him in a bit deeper, taking him towards the back of your throat. Pulling back up, you suck his cock inwards and focus your attention towards his tip, effectively making him leak more of his yummy essence into your mouth.

He’s groaning like a whore, taking his other fist and slamming it down on the wall behind you. He’s lost it—truly, lost it. Bulldozing his cock further and further down your throat, loving the way your moans and cries become muffled from how fucking huge his cock is. You’re barely fitting half in your mouth, poor thing.

“Fucking choke on it, my filthy fuckin’ cockslut,” he grunts out, gritting his teeth as he watches you take his cock down your throat again, just to come back up and suckle at his tip. You whine around it, sending vibrations that shoot down to his balls and makes his legs fucking shake, “—nghh, just l-like that girl, f-fuck!!”

He’s growling and fisting your hair tighter, unapologetically fucking his length into your mouth as he chases his release. He feels his knees shake a bit at the way you seem to chase after his cock, fighting to take his cock deeper and suck his fuckin’ soul out of it, “o-oohh fuck, m’gonna fuckin’ cum doll, don’t stop.”

Even if you didn’t have toji’s hands guiding your face like a fucking sex doll, there was no way in hell you planned on letting up on his cock now. You wanted to get him to cum, too absorbed at the thought of him. Your own pussy dripping with excitement as you hurriedly await for his orgasm to come.

The groan he lets out as he chases his high is unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him. You swore that his voice could move mountains with how deep and gritty it was, making your cunt flutter helplessly. You licked his base as you come back up to his tip again, kissing and slurping around it to send him over the edge.

All toji sees is white, all he feels is heat, all he can think of is you and that damned fucking mouth that has him getting whiplash.

He cums in your mouth, surprised at the sudden force his orgasm had over his body. He’s shaking—convulsing, fighting to catch his breath as his hand on the wall supports his weight.

“Don’t waste a s-single drop…or I’ll have ya go again,” he pants, taking his cock out of your mouth. He lets you catch your breath, kneeling down to your level and gripping your chin to catch your attention, “but then again, you’d probably like that wouldn’t ya, doll?”

SUKUNA R. -> THE DEVIANT 🖤

All Sukuna has ever known has been power—king of curses, the most feared being in jujutsu history, the strongest entity in the world—titles that indubitably reinforce his ego and pride.

And yet, none of that matters until he gets you to say it. Until he has you under his grasp. It’s almost as if your words bring truth to the meaning, making his blood boil from how dependent he’s come to grow onto you.

By his logic, this was all your fault. He needed to get his edge back—what better way to do so than to go directly to the source?

“Look at you, stretched and trembling so perfectly around your king,” he trails off with a chuckle, loving at how nimble and pliant you’ve become from cuming around his fingers and tongue(s) for literal hours. Regardless of the amount of times your king plays with his pussy, it seems Sukuna’s interest in you would never fade—not like you wanted it to anyways.

“Tell me—” he starts, gripping your chin tightly as he sinks his cock deeper and deeper into your womb—his other cock leaking furiously on top of your tummy, cum gathering on top of your plush crevices that makes him drool like a fucking dog, “—to whom do you belong to?”

“Y-you, my lord!” you pathetically cry out, trying your best to hold your gaze steady with his, but ultimately failing and surrendering to the bliss your king provides you. He growls, sinking a finger in your mouth as he gives you a sharp thrust of his hips. You feel his tip touching your cervix—cockhead poking and prodding along the outline of your womb as he tries to fuck through your cervix and into your guts.

“Look at me, now,” he demands, upper lip raising and letting his canines peak out. Your eyes snap open instantly, only to be met with haunting red ones that were filled with a hunger that you’ve never seen within him. The hand that has his finger shoved in your mouth wraps around your chin and neck, smothering your face with your drool, making him twitch in your cunt from the sheer depravity of it all. He leans down to your face, licking a stripe up your cheek to taste your spit and bite your flesh, earning a cute little squeal from you that has him chuckle evilly.

Small hands wrap around his thick wrist as a whimper gets pushed past your throat and flows into Sukuna’s head, dancing in his mind and coaxing him to fuck you wildly. He stills his hips, halting the movement of his cock that’s pushed deeply into your womb, and the way your heart sank to your sweet cunny knowing damn well that this was only the beginning had your clit throb with excitement. You know he felt your arousal too—a sadistic, shit eating grin that just so happened to form on Sukuna’s face gave it away.

“so mean ‘kuna!!” you whine, small hands press against his toned stomach, pathetically trying to push him away as a pout forms on your face. He tisks at you, tapping his index finger on your cheek while keeping his grip firm on your chin.

“Mean? I’ve shown you mercy when most would have met their measly fate. I let you see me, feel me—remember your place,” his tone’s laced with venom as he reinforces his point by pistoning his cock with reckless abandon, and while his words may have scared people away from him it only encouraged your need to sink your teeth into his soul and be a part of him undoubtedly—folie a deux at its finest.

“and what is it? what’s m-ahh-my place?” you snap back, continuing to take the brunt of his thrusts as you feel your ass start to sting. Heavy balls swinging against your plump cheeks while his other cock starts to pulse against you and as much as you wanted to deny it, you couldn’t help but want to please your lords cock.

You wanted to fucking milk him.

“your place—” he starts, letting go of your chin to hoist both thighs onto his shoulders. Slowly, he lowers himself down towards you, effectively pushing you into a mating press that will surely end in you getting knocked up by the curse.

“—is to please me—” sukuna grunts, shifting your body down the bed to further hover over you, as if he were a predator leaning over his fresh kill.

“—to worship me—,” he shifts his hips closer to yours, his pelvis and thighs showing no remorse to your poor, bruised ass and pussy, “—and to be my good fucking slut.”

With that, he slams his shaft fully inside your cunt; the new position forcing you to feel every inch of him with no escape. His cock curves inwards and pushes against your g-spot, ravaging your defenseless cunny, making you howl like a bitch in heat and squirt on the spot. He belts out a laugh of delight, fiending from the sight of you quite literally losing control of your sanity and giving into your king.

“Gonna make you fucking work for it—fucking beg your king for mercy.”

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed!! What do y’all think of this one?? Which was your fav?? I’d love to hear back from y’all <3

As always, likes, comments, follows, reblogs, and any other form of interaction is greatly appreciated <3 #supportcreators

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darklcy · 1 month ago

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𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐭.

────˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚─────

‣ vi x reader | arcane masterlist | 1.9k words | enemies to lovers, angst, not super fluffy but happy end, mentions of low self esteem

‣ you assumed she hated you, but maybe it goes deeper than that when a fight has you taking shelter in her childhood home

‣ welcome back vi lovers! the arcane s2 brainrot is here and im back from my hiatus! (i hope you enjoy i may be rough i haven't written in a while)

Vi was too reckless for her own good.

Self-sabotaging can only carry you through so much, her invisible trophy wall of each violent encounter growing by the day. It was frustrating to see her do this, and yet every time a splotch of bruises formed, or a new line of blood dirtied her cheek, the more her perseverance began to crack.

The pressure was abundant on her shoulders, you could practically feel it yourself. Whether she pulled you in, or you jumped yourself, the burden was also yours to carry.

Sometimes you wondered if she disliked you. A simple question of well-being, how are you, earned a chilling glare and passive aggressive comments she meticulously crafted to falter your ego. Maybe she thought you were too weak to understand her pain, or perhaps it was the way your concern pushed through whatever bite she spat at you.

Or maybe she just didn’t like you.

A bit ironic, seeing her sustainable relationship with the Enforcer from topside, the last person you would’ve thought her to be acquaintances with. And if you observed closer, Vi seemed to carry herself differently around her, this Caitlyn from Piltover.

Though, there was credit to give. Her marksmanship was unlike anyone you’d ever seen in the lanes. She was light on her feet and agile, shooting her targets with perfect precision. No wonder she bore a badge proudly.

And you were anything but a fighter. Maybe that’s why Vi looks at you the way she does. She’d marked you as a liability, vulnerable to the dangers of the world. It upset you, the way her nose scrunched up with her glares and cold shoulders.

Who was she to judge you anyway? Every time you choose violence, you come out broken and bloody, so what’s the point? Whatever. Screw her and her opinions. Who the fuck needs her anyway.

If only you’d fucked off when she told you to. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this mess. Here. In the ruins of Vi’s childhood home, with a bloody nose and bruised cheek. With Vi. Damn your determination to prove her wrong. Damn those thugs for surrounding her completely, for not giving her a second to get back up. There was no stopping what was to come, that was clear the moment your bags were strewn hastily to the ground and shouts were thrown at her perpetrators. A sock to the face immediately took to the ground. The punk wouldn’t stop pounding hits to your face. Damn you, Vi.

Your pain wasn’t for nothing when Vi dragged herself up and freed you from his grip, knocking his ass to the concrete with a bloodied lip. Your vision was blurry as she took off running with her fingers tight around your wrist. When you stopped to breathe is when you realized your surroundings, confirmed with a stone marked with the names Power and Violet.

The neon sign that previously towered over this ghost town had been toppled over and destroyed; half the foundations of the house torn to dust. The sight made you frown. The only remaining wall was to your left, sheltering a twin sized bed mattress with a tattered sheet on top. A groan to your side beckoned you to look over, watching as she shuffled to the mattress. In the distance, you could make out the faint echoes of yelling, the vast cliffs muffling the words together into a vague holler.

“It’s probably best to sleep here. They’re not gonna leave anytime soon.”

Vi grumbled, not missing the hint of annoyance coming from her. She was laying on her side now, back to you and arms circling her stomach. You didn’t respond, instead trudging over to the bed and stiffly laying down beside her, back slightly grazing hers.

Neither of you spoke a word.

It was hard to tell what she was feeling. She never was one to vocalize her thoughts, especially with you. With Caitlyn, maybe.

“...I didn’t need your help.”

Your shoulders tensed up.

“I had control of everything. You just messed it all up.”

The fabric of the thin sheets acted as a stress reliever as you gripped tighter and tighter.

“...What the hell was I supposed to do? Seriously,”

“Not interfere? Now we’re stuck here.”

Today was not the day to be dealing with her attitude. You were sore, bloody, and in the worst mood possible to be treated like this. It didn’t help that her words stung, the bitterness stabbing into your open wounds.

“Well, maybe don’t pick fights with a group of guys who are clearly bigger and stronger than you.”

She snapped her body up and looked down on you.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You rolled over to your back, glaring up at her.

“They were clearly stronger than you! If I hadn’t shown up who knows what the fuck they would’ve done?”

“Oh yeah? And what good did you do? Take a few swings to the face?”

You rolled your eyes, sitting up to be eye level.

“I mean, yeah?! If I hadn’t taken those punches, you would still be on that damn street!”

Vi mockingly put a hand over her heart. “My hero.”

“Fuck off.” You moved to shove her in the shoulder, but her hand snapped around your wrist. Her glare intensified, eyes turning sharp and nose scrunching up. All your anger drowned in a pool of nerves while her fingers tightened, the skin of your hand turning red. She leaned in uncomfortably close.

“You really wanna go there?”

Her eyes bore into yours, not faltering eye contact for even a second.

You could feel the tension in your neck beginning to ache. You would never win against her, but the thought was intoxicating. After a few quiet seconds, you yanked your wrist back, her fingers marking red indents into your skin.

She scoffed, nodding her head while moving away from you. “That’s what I thought.”

You wanted to beat her. You wanted to win, just once.

“What the fuck is your problem anyway.”

Her sharp eyes flickered to yours. It intimidated you every time, like she was the big bad bully in school, teeth grazing her lips as she fought back the retaliation.

You pushed through. “...All I’ve ever done was just try to help. Yet here you are, always pissed at me for no damn reason. What have I done to make you hate me so fucking much?”

Her eyebrows pinched together for a breath of a second. “...Huh?”

You threw your arms up, shuffling forward and standing from the cushion.

“Every single day, you treat me like I’m some helpless child, like I’m a fucking idiot who can’t do anything. I’m an adult, Vi. Just because I can’t fight doesn’t mean I can’t do anything, for fucks sake.”

She watched you pace throughout the empty house, her eyes heavy as lead. You huff.

“It’s like, every time I try to do anything, you look at me like I’m some stupid child who keeps messing up. I’m tired of it. Either tell me straight up or leave me alone.”

Your spine met stone as you slid down to the floor, her carved name above your head.

Pulling your knees up, your chin fell to your chest, arms dangling across your kneecaps to finally give your body some rest. Didn’t feel like a victory, but the weight of her burden dissipated just by a little. You’d never snapped back before, never given yourself the strength to stand up to her. Enough was enough. You can’t live like this anymore.

Vi remained quiet, whether she was debating on arguing or not, you didn’t care. The fight of sleep was winning, and your eyelids began to slowly surrender.

“...I wasn’t going to do anything, yknow.”

They snapped back open.

“Earlier, I mean. I wasn’t actually gonna hurt you.”

You don’t move to face her. Vi continues.

“I don’t hate you, you just,” She sighs. “You do things that confuse the fuck out of me, and frankly it pisses me off.”

You scoff. “Like what?”

“Like jumping into that fight. That was a dumbass move, and you know it.”

“Oh my god. How is that a dumbass move- I helped you out, didn’t I? Besides, I put myself there, why are you the one pissed off? I should be pissed off.”

“Yes. Yes, you should!” She stands up from the mattress to tower over you, her voice beginning to raise.

“You should be pissed off, because you got socked in the face and now, you’re stuck here. Why did you do that? That was so stupid.”

A pinch pulled your brows together. “Obviously I know what happened, I’m literally here. What point are you trying to get at?”

Vi shakes her head and runs a hand through her spiked, greasy hair.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe how dense you are.”

You watch as she saunters over to the same name engraved stone to slide down the rock, her knees knocking with yours. She’s silent for a moment as you stare at her profile, the hint of a smirk coming up her lips.

“It’s stupid of you to concern yourself with me. It’s my problem, not yours.”

You still didn’t get it.

“But why does that piss you off?”

She turns towards you now.

“I know what I’m capable of. I know what I’m getting into. You don’t. You walked into a fight that wasn’t yours to begin with, and in return, you got hurt.”

“So…you’re mad that I got punched in the face?”

A groan leaves her falling chin.

“I’m mad that you were there to begin with. I’m mad that you got hurt on my behalf, and I’m mad that you’re dragged into this mess. It’s my shit to deal with.”

She pauses to take a deep inhale. “And…I took my frustration out on you, and I’m sorry.”

The tensed muscles of anger faded from her apology, her eyes carrying a softness you’d never seen before. She was being genuine. Open. Vulnerable.

You sighed with her.

“Thank you.”

The quiet that fell over you two now was pleasant. It was nice seeing Vi like this, being used to her thirst for arguing. Your head leaned back against the rock as you let your eyelids close once more.

“How bad is it?”

Her fingers touch you softly before you peer up at her. She gazes at the blood smeared under your nose with a grimace, her pointer finger stroking the welt on your cheek.

“It’s fine. Could be worse.”

She shakes her head. “...It’s my fault you got hurt.”

You scoffed. “It’s completely mine. I’m the dumbass who jumped into a fight that wasn’t mine, remember?”

You smile at her despite the twang in your jaw. Her hand falls back to her side.

“My hero.”

Her lips upturned, the scar on her upper lip flashing itself at you. You don’t miss the way she falters for a moment, relishing the close proximity her face is to yours. Her fingers twitch by her thighs to touch your cheek again, but instead she smacks a hand on top of your head, gently ruffling your hair.

She stands up to make way back to the bed. “Come to bed. You need rest, too.”

You haven’t moved just yet, the whirlwind of her processing slowly in your brain. Your skin felt hot under your cheeks, but as you shakily stood up to join her, you found the burden of her turning into something else.

Vi was different, now. Good different. You liked this different. Laying down beside her on the mattress, you don’t turn away from her.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #vi arcane #vi arcane x reader #vi x reader #arcane x reader #league of legends #league of legends x reader #wlw #violet arcane

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vyva-melinkolya · 2 months ago

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we all agree that the push towards short form, vertical video (tiktok/reels/shorts) is ruining fucking everything right? Tiktok has been useful for the dissemination of political information (e.g Gaza) i’ll give it that, but that feels moreso a result of meta and twitters algorithms being just a little *more*’evil and censor happy. And i want to make it very clear that my hatred for tiktok has nothing to do with the fact that it was a product of a Chinese company, because i see a lot of critiques relying on some sort of sinophobic conspiracy. On the contrary, it’s what tiktok has become in the vacuum of western popular culture and marketing that makes me fearful.

I know that every generation faces a new, polarizing technology and inevitably, there are those among said generation who will critique it. That is the nature of things. However, there is also something to be said about how, with the acceleration of technology (running parallel to the acceleration of capitalism, acceleration towards collapse etc), each coming generation faces an increasingly more malevolent “advancement”. TLDR, i’m going to talk my shit.

I’m going to speak on the aspect that is most relavent to me, as a musician. I am petrified by what short form video is doing to music and to musicians. I think that tiktok provides the illusion of making music and being a musician more “accessible” while actually pouring gasoline on the fire that the pop music machine had already started. Standards for what popular culture “expects” from music are being doubled and tripled. Let’s talk about song length. Success and marketability favoring shorter songs is not something new, it has been the trend for decades. But with short form video, it goes even further. You’re not just hearing the same song over and over on the radio, you’re hearing the same 15-30 seconds of the same song over and over again. This in-turn, starts to influence the way people write music, persuading people to make songs that *could* have that 15 second appeal. There is an art to pop music, there is an art to writing a catchy hook—this is something else. We weren’t meant to hear or understand music like that. There are so many songs from reels that i found annoying, until i heard them in their full context. It’s insidious. It makes everything feel like a fucking commercial, even if nothing is being advertised.

I’m going to pull directly from someone else’s experiences, someone who’s music seems to be everywhere on short form videos. The ambient musician My Head Is Empty has a hundred million streams on the song “i was only temporary”. Despite that exposure, they experience “never ending copywrite issues” and have “received death threats” by people who refuse to credit them when using their song. Pulling a quote here, from a comment on their own post

“vyva_melinkolya unfortunately it just gets worse. i saw a bot content page that steals pod cast footage and spams dozens of videos with my song stolen, comment on a "motivation" spam content , who actually made a post telling people the name of my song, and the previous page i mentioned, the pod cast spam commented on that video saying "Bro stop don't give out the sauce. this audio helps me pull numbers brooo" - so people are actively INTENTIONALLY stealing it and telling people to not credit me. like. u can't make this stuff up”

Beyond this, My Head Is Empty feels frustrated that despite all this exposure, the rest of their work (nine albums) as a musician remains under appreciated, and i think that frustration is 100% valid. People cannot fully appreciate music, or even understand it as a work of art created by another human, when it’s taken so far out of its context. Again, the soul being sucked out of art by “the machine” isn’t anything new but, this is a whole other level. Being a musician is more expensive than ever, streaming earns you fractions of a cent etc, it all feeds into itself.

When a song or a musician i love deeply finds its way on to tiktok (let’s use Duster’s “Stars Will Fall”, one of my favorite songs ever as an example)I am not upset that i cant “gatekeep” it anymore. I’m not upset by the idea of something I love and hold dearly finding a larger audience. I AM upset in the manner in which it is being disseminated. I’m upset with art I hold dear to me being chopped up and used as “trending audio”. When I saw Duster in concert recently, lStars Will Fall” was the song I was most looking forward to hearing. It was the last song they played, and it was the song seemly everyone chose to talk loudly over. The audience was mostly people my age and younger. This complaint might come off as petty or pretentious or cliche, i frankly do not give a shit.

Let’s talk about how musicians are expected to promote music on tiktok/reels. This is a matter of opinion, at the risk of sounding very pretentious: the “POV we are x band from x” “My label says i need x followers before x” “posting this video until c musician notices me”. I understand that some of it is in jest but, what the fuck? When did this become the norm? I do not blame anyone for promoting their music like this, but we should want more for ourselves. I’ve always said being a musician is deeply embarassing, inherently. If being a musician is inherently embarassing then what is this? I dont have a solution for this, and the music industry has always been ugly and bloodthirsty and seldom fruitful— but i feel like the very small amount of dignity we had as artists is now lost and I cant fucking stand it. Artists seem to promote the same single with dozens of reels over the course of months, hoping that something sticks. I dont want to sound like i’m shaming or, again, sound like i can provide a solution. I’m just very fucking sorry that it seems like this is “the way”. And personally, i’m scared that if i dont “get with the program”, im going to fail.

Again, all of this speaks to larger trends in entertainment industry and even larger trends in capitalism. But i’m just airing specifics right now because frankly? I cant take it anymore.

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luveline · 4 months ago

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Same hotch sister reader anon here Jade!

I think I have sent this one before like recently only, idk whether you have seen it or not so I will request again

The reader gets injured (I'm a sucker for injury troop) and Aaron and Spencer worry and Spencer also has to lift the reader. Please write if it's not too much 🥺

Aaron tells you two or three times not to do it. “Just wait,” he says, standing behind you with his hands hovering over your back. “Seriously, I’ll ask Morgan.”

“How can you host the party without glasses?”

“I can assure you my guests aren’t going to miss a glass of wine for the first ten minutes. Don’t make me grab you.”

“I can reach!”

“I can reach, too, it’s not about height, it’s about–” He gasp loudly as your stool wobbles. “Sweetheart, get down. I’m not kidding.”

You grab the stem of the last glass and pass it down to him. “Stop worrying! I told you I could do it and I did.”

And you’re right, you passed him each of his glasses without smashing any, as promised. You are not expecting the top of the stool to feel so slippery as you try to get down, nor are you expecting to lean forward and pop your face on the cabinet glass. You whack your chin, lose your footing, and slam down on knee before Aaron can catch you.

There’s a silence. Two hands on your shoulders. “Honey…”

“Just say it,” you groan.

“Well, I told you so.”

The doorbell rings. “Ah, fuck,” you say, curling into yourself as everything throbs.

“It’s okay, come here.”

“Go get the door.”

“No, they can wait, just let me help you up.”

“If you love me, you’ll leave me to die here.”

The doorbell rings again. “Aaron!” Dave calls from the other side. “Shall we let ourselves in?��

“It’s locked,” Aaron says to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You wave him away. Honestly, you’re not okay, having fallen hard enough to knock the wind from yourself and hurt your knees and chin. But you’re happier to recover by yourself before his friends get here and spot you all crumpled.

The problem arises when you can’t get your knee to listen to you. It tingles painfully. It did take all your weight as you fell, which likely stopped you from breaking your arms, but wasn’t kind to your joint, it seems. You push yourself onto your butt and sit there, unsatisfied, and, embarrassingly, waiting to be rescued.

Aaron’s kind, thankfully. He takes Dave to the living room, and sends the second arrival your way.

“You okay?” Spencer asks, frowning at your strange position on the floor.

You pout at him. “Spencer, I’ve fallen and my knee won’t work.”

“You fell?”

Any nonchalance falls away. Spencer scrambles onto his knees beside you to look you over, curls falling from behind his ear into his eyes as he encourages you back. “You fell?” he asks again, confused.

“Off the stool.”

“Off the– What were you doing?”

“Just grabbing the glasses for tonight!”

“Morgan could’ve done that.”

“Can you please help me up?” you ask, very much wanting to move on.

Spencer is a slight man. Not without muscle, but also no weightlifter. To his credit, he doesn’t make helping you seem above his abilities as he wraps an arm behind you and tucks the other under your legs. He lifts you enough to get his hand at the small of your back, and you use your now one good leg to stand.

Spencer manhandles you a little, which is new. Hosts you to the couch, and lets you down gently. He does need a big breath when he’s done, but besides that, he’s like a Prince Charming having rescued you from your own demise. “Okay?” he asks, both hands at your waist.

“It hurt bad.”

“Can I see it?”

By picking you up, he has earned the right to get you undressed, and you tell him so, his cheeks turning pinky-red as he rolls up your jeans.

“Swollen,” he says.

“Can I tell you a secret?” You grimace. “I’m so embarrassed I don’t really know what to say. Do you think we can postpone the party?”

Spencer smiles at you, the sort of smile you can only give somebody when you’ve seen almost every part of them, and found yourself still in love by the end of it. He smiles at you like you’re made of pure gold. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna nurse you back to health.”

“Really?”

“Of course I am. I’m gonna fix it, but first I was thinking I could kiss your chin better? You have a dark spot coming.”

You touch it, tender, surprised, “I do?”

Spencer leans up to peck your chin, just shy of the coming bruise. “You do. I’ll get you some ice.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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skzdarlings · 10 months ago

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i do ; skz ; felix x reader

requested by anonymous: ' I would love if you could use these prompts...on Felix x fem reader:❛ i love that no one else has seen you like this, that no one else has felt you before, been inside you. they don't get to have you, but i do. ❜❛ you're mine. you've always been mine. ❜I love possessive Felix, istg i would give amything to have him' plus two anonymous requests for: 'i'd say you need someone to put you in your place' for felix.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: look this request was for possessive!felix and so possessive!felix i delivered. he is a little weirdo in this tbh. but i think after all my anti-rich-guy stories, i have earned the right for one problematic possessive mafia boss who throws his money and his dick around hahaha. so yes, possessive!felix, virgin!reader, wedding night, arranged marriage, felix being a criminal boss, insta-love. reader's backstory involves a verbally abusive/neglectful family. explicit sexual content. word count: 4000 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy <3

Your new husband is astoundingly pretty. You expected a different face to be waiting at the end of the wedding aisle: harsh, old, scarred. Maybe, if you let yourself fantasize, he would be handsome in a rugged way.

You were not expecting Felix. Slender, delicate Felix with his high cheekbones and freckles, his dark eyes and feather-soft blonde hair. He smiled a dimpled smile as your father surrendered your hand.

That surrender was a visual representation of a literal transaction. You were a bartering tool to save your father’s business. You knew an arranged marriage was inevitable when a few trades went sour and the company went bankrupt. The family could only maintain relevancy and safety through a match to someone more powerful.

Lee Felix is the heir to a very dirty criminal syndicate that blends in high society. Everyone knows their money is blood-spattered, but they throw a good party and the jewels sparkle the same.

You knew his name long before the wedding. Of course you knew his name. But you did not know his face. You expected a devil, not a vision of divinity, resplendent in white and gold.

Your heart has not stopped racing since he first lifted your veil and kissed you with lips softer and gentler than your grandest fantasies.

Now you are perched on a lavish bed in a beautiful penthouse suite. The walls are windows, externally tinted but offering you a glorious view of the glittering cityscape at night. You wonder how much of the city your new husband owns.

Would that be an impertinent question? It is not as though there is any real charade to play; this is not a love match and there is no sense pretending otherwise. Enquiring after financial assets is arguably appropriate insofar as business goes.

Then the door opens and your new husband enters. All thoughts of business flitter into nothing, an insignificant detail next to your wedding night. A night with this powerful and beautiful stranger.

“Are you nervous?” he asks in a voice so deep it keeps surprising you. It suits his angelic appearance in a way, something so captivating about its low tones, effortlessly melodic. But that melody is coloured darkly in its depth, scratching a shiver up your spine. When he speaks, it feels like he is trailing his fingers up your back in a curious, searching touch.

He looks at you with as much depth, dark eyes penetrating as he circles the bed. He has been nothing but polite, but you can’t help but feel like prey being circled by a predator.

Even more concerning, you can’t help but like it.�� Since the moment he took your hand, his eyes have not left you. It is almost overwhelming. You have been invisible your whole life. No one ever looked at you. No one ever wanted you. Your father scared off anyone who tried.

Felix is not just anyone. Anyone sensible would be scared of him.

You are also not just anyone.

“No,” you answer.

“Really?” He lifts a curious eyebrow.

You are both in your wedding clothes, all white and gold. Your veil is draped over a chair in the corner. He puts his coat there too.

He never looks away from you, rolling his shirtsleeves up his forearms as he approaches the bed.

“May I ask, why not?” he asks. It’s a funny question, so polite but only posed because he knows his own reputation. He knows what you must think of him. The bloodshed, the ruthlessness, the merciless command he holds over his family’s legacy. He might look unassuming, but he is not to be trifled with. That gentle exterior could be unnerving to some people, even more than an outward brute.

But you have dealt with those brutes your whole life. An abusive father, cruel brother, an uncaring mother. Hurt, neglected, ignored.

Tonight, while you circled the reception to greet everyone, your father and brother pulled you aside. Your mother had already berated you on the details of your appearance, but they were reprimanding you for every other misstep.

You almost burst into tears, tired and frightened. You were so afraid you would never escape them. Even at your wedding, on the cusp of a new life, they were dragging you around, kicking and screaming.

Then you felt a tap on your shoulder. Bang Chan, one of Felix’s most trusted agents, stood there with a forced but cordial smile. He looked at you and not your family.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said. “Your husband is asking for you. Please, come with me.”

Your father sputtered indignantly, unaccustomed to such blatant disrespect for his authority. Chan said nothing to him, simply offered you his arm. He also opened his jacket to flash the gun in his chest holster. Your family had their weapons stripped before entering the reception. It was a subtle reminder of who was really in charge.

So your father and brother were left sputtering helplessly as Chan escorted you across the room. Felix was sitting with some of his men, smiling his bright smile and looking like any happy young groom.

That sunny face faltered when he saw your morose expression. His glance passed to your family, a flicker of anger in his gaze. Then he smiled at you and held out a welcoming arm.

“Come here,” he said. “Sit with me a bit. Please.” That deep voice. You felt it like a touch inside you. He had recited the scripted vows earlier. This invitation was his first real address.

You nodded. Your legs were shaky from the confrontation, never mind the wobble from your heels. Your feet hurt. Sitting would be a relief if nothing else.

There was an empty seat behind Felix. It was the type of seat you were usually given: at the back where you could be forgotten.

Once you were within reach, Felix grabbed you around the waist. Your breath caught as you stumbled towards him. He caught you and held you. Then you were sitting in his lap, your dress draped everywhere, a glittering ivory prize perched safe and pretty on his knee. He wrapped a possessive arm around your middle.

It was more than a power play. It was one thing to put you on his lap and show your family that he owned you now, but it was another for him to frown as he touched the painfully tight pearl belt around your waist.

“Why is this so tight?” he asked, looking at you with concern.

“I’m sorry,” you said automatically, in the habit of grovelling whenever someone took a disappointed tone. “My mother,” you spoke softly, not wanting the rest of the table to hear.

He leaned closer to you, offering you his ear directly. A whisper was all you managed, unaccustomed to such attention.

“They’re real pearls,” you whispered. “Very expensive. Very fine. Too fine for me. My mother had the belt made small so I would remember to act worthy of them. Sit straight. Not over-eat. You know.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing. Instinct compelled you to soothe that displeasure, laughing like you were not upset.

“It’s all right,” you said. “She’s right. They are very fine pearls.”

“It’s not all right,” Felix said. He looked at you, held your gaze in his own. You found yourself counting his freckles. “Do you like it?” he asked.

Maybe it was his display of power. Maybe it was his arm around you. Maybe it was the freckles. He looked so sweet, so sincere. You could not bring yourself to lie. Though you had defended your cruel family all your life, the truth fell from your lips in a rough exhale.

“No.” You felt tears in your eyes. “I know it’s expensive. I know it’s beautiful. But I’ve never hated anything more.”

He held your gaze, your watery eyes in the dark depths of his own.

Then he grabbed the belt by a thin material strand and yanked. A couple pearls popped right off and scattered. The rest dangled on the belt, an absurd amount of wealth in his hand.

Felix tossed it over his shoulder like it was garbage. Then he wrapped his arm around your waist and held you against him.

You chanced a look at your family. They were scandalized. Horrified. And you breathed easier for the first time in a long time. You have long suffered the oppressive strangle of control masquerading as love. His protective arm felt nothing like that pearl belt.

So you look at him now. You strive to articulate all these feelings. You are not used to speaking and having someone listen.

“I can’t explain it,” you say. “Maybe it’s foolish. But I… I just feel like I was meant to be here. With you. Like this.”

Your heart jumps at his expression, a luminous pleasure that brightens this dimly lit room.

“That’s funny,” he says. “I feel the same way.”

You swallow as he sits beside you. Slowly, touch by touch, breath by breath, he is bringing your bodies together. His knee touches yours, his arm your arm. He folds his hands in his lap but he is close enough you can count his freckles again.

“I need to be honest with you,” he says. “I’ve wanted you since I first saw you. A year ago. At the winter masquerade.”

You look at him with surprise. All at once, his eyes come back to you, gazing at you behind a golden bird mask at the annual winter social. You couldn’t place the handsome stranger at the time. His hair was dark then, his face in a mask. He did not speak. His distinctive voice would have given him away.

He danced one dance with you, the only person who danced with you all night. You were later reprimanded for behaving like a slut, even though he touched your waist and nothing more.

“You were very kind,” he says. “I watched you with the staff. You were the only one in that whole room to say please and thank you to them – did you know that?” He sighs and looks away, thoughts travelling beyond this room. “I came from nothing,” he says. “My family… we fought to get where we are now. But I remember, you know. What it feels like to be the smallest and least important person in the room.”

You sit straighter when he looks at you. Oh, your heart has not slowed its thunder. Excitement and affection swirl together in a motley tempest of sensation, touched by his words and yearning for more. You thought you had been sold to an uncaring bidder, but Felix touches you slowly, like he would a very fine work of art. His knuckles caress your cheek, the slope of your jaw.

“I thought…” He looks at you reverently. “I thought… I would do anything to preserve that goodness. I would protect it. Like your family wasn’t.” His brow furrows now, a shadow of his face. “They would have ruined you.”

His hand continues, knuckles skimming down your throat, your shoulder, your arm. You shiver. He has a terrible scar, scoring the whole back of his hand. A stark difference to your unblemished hand, your manicured nails against his calloused fingers.

He says, “I know what it’s like to be ruined.”

You look from your hands to his face, his handsome profile, the slope of his nose and his soft lips. He is still looking at your joined hands.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he says. “I’d give anything to have my innocence back. But I can’t.”

He lifts your hand, cradles it between both of his like something precious. Your breath catches when he kisses your palm, lips soft against your skin.

“So I told myself, I would do anything to save yours,” he says. He looks almost… afraid. An expression you never expected to see on this man. “So I destroyed your father’s business,” he says. “It was all me. I knew he would never give you to a man like me unless he had no choice. He would have given you away to one of his friends and they would have broken you. But you were already mine. So I left him no choice but to see things my way.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised beyond all words.

“I wanted you to know before anything… happens… between us,” he says. “But I understand if your feeling are complicated. Or if you… fear me.”

Your father has often boasted how many men fear him. It does not sound like a boast from Felix, rather something lamentable. His face is shadowed in shame.

“My feelings are not complicated,” you say. He is still holding your hand in both of his. You lay your other hand there, a complete joining.

He meets your gaze, an intense and imploring stare.

“I’m not my father’s daughter anymore,” you say. “I’m my husband’s wife. My loyalty is to you. My place is with you.”

“Yes,” he says, spoken on a breath. His smile returns. “Your place. I’d say you need someone to put you in your place. Your rightful place.”

He springs off the bed like there is lightning under his feet. He is all smiles and sunlight again, a beacon in the blue dark of this room. You cannot help but bask in his warmth, bereft in the chill when he leaves your side.

He takes something from his discarded coat pocket, a case swathed in velvet, soft to the touch. You hold it, admiring the texture.

He kneels behind you on the bed while you open it. Inside is the most breathtaking necklace you have ever seen in your life. When you lift it, the chain is long, designed to sit low, loose around your neck. No more chokers. No more pearls.

“Oh, Felix,” you say, breathless and amazed, then very embarrassed. You are not used to such lovely gifts. Even the pearls were a punishment. “I can’t accept this…” you say, stunned.

“You can,” he says.

He takes the clasp then strings the necklace around you. His fingers on the nape of your neck have you shivering. The necklace clasps in place, then his lips are on your neck, a chaste press that nonetheless lights fire under your skin. “It was made for you,” he says. “Like you were made for me.”

He takes the zipper of your gown between two careful fingers, so slowly lowering it. It feels like you are unravelling with it. The zipper reaches the base of your spine and his fingertips dance across your bare skin.

He steps off the bed. He looks down at you, his eyes intense but his smile soft. He touches your cheek, strokes his thumb across it lovingly.

Then he is sinking to his knees in front of you. You already feel weak as jelly, but your whole body goes soft and pliant when he gently grasps your ankle, when he slides your painful shoe off your foot and tosses it aside. He somehow finds every sore spot and rubs it better.

“This is how it works,” he says. He is on his knees but somehow his presence looms bigger than you. You cannot look away from the thrall of his gaze. “You are my wife. And when we are out there, I am your servant.” He takes your other foot and removes that shoe as well. He massages you gently. “I will never deny you anything,” he says. “You can ask me for anything. All right? I will give you the whole world. I will give you my whole heart. In return, I only want one thing.”

“What’s that?” you ask, already breathless.

“I am your husband,” he says, “and in here, you are my servant. Only I can touch you. Only I will have you. All of you. In every way. Always, starting from today. Starting from right now.”

“Yes. Yes. But I – I’ve never done this before,” you say, aching to surrender but fearful he will regret this. Though you are knowledgeable, you are lacking in experience from years of isolation. “I’ve been alone for so long,” you say. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You don’t,” he says. He lifts your leg, swoops down to kiss your calf, then higher: your knee, your thigh. “You could never,” he says, guiding your leg to rest on his shoulder. He gathers the volume of your wedding dress in his hands and pushes it up, up.

You almost forget to breathe. He kisses higher on your thigh. Then he grabs the thin material of your white tights and rips them open.

“You’re mine,” he says. “You’ve always been mine.”

You fall back on your elbows, limbs already quivering as he tears through your underclothes as if impatiently ripping open a prettily wrapped gift. With your expensive lace panties shredded and your tights in tatters, he pushes your skirts up and out of his way. You hold them while he kisses up your thigh. He runs his tongue along the seam between your thigh and somewhere much more sensitive.

“No one else has done this to you?” he asks. He already looks flushed. Desperate.

“No,” you answer. You swallow hard. “Never.” You know some men do not enjoy providing this type of pleasure to their wives, so you are about to tell him that you have no expectations in that regard—

But then he is on you like a starving man, eyes closed and mouth open and licking through all that wet desire. You fall on your back, pressing your heel into his back. He groans, pressing deeper, tongue seeking, swiping, stroking.

He grips your thighs possessively, holding you in place as he ravages you with his mouth. He takes you up and over a blissful crest. It leaves you a drenched and panting mess.

He stands, wiping his arm across his wet mouth. He does not look satisfied, eyes still hungry as he climbs on top of you.

“My wife,” he says, like the word is sacred and impossible, like he thought a man like him could never say it. “All mine,” he says, running his hands up your thighs, up your waist, touching every inch of you until he is cradling your face delicately in his careful but calloused hands.

It makes your whole body clench up tightly, your breath stuttering as he kisses you. You melt into the kiss, so different from the chaste peck of your ceremony. It is a claiming kiss, the taste of you still on his lips, his moan in your mouth, his chest against yours as those sounds of pleasure rumble through him.

He tugs down your bodice, then he is ripping through your underclothes again. When your bodice is around your waist and your chest is bare except for his necklace, you find yourself covering your breasts instinctively. He takes your hands, not forcefully but firmly, holding your gaze. His mouth is already so pink and raw from kissing. You wonder if you look as ravished. Maybe more. It makes you whimper, surrendering when he pins your hands on either side of your head.

“This is mine,” he says, kissing your jaw, your throat, then lower. “All mine, sweetheart.”

He wraps his lips around a pointed nipple and you feel the reaction between your legs, as if connected by a thread. Your legs try to close around his hips but he presses down. The crumpled skirt of your dress is between you, but he feels your thighs clenching, feels you desperately bucking.

Even his chuckle is a deep sound. He smiles at you, batting his eyelashes as he licks the curve of your breast. Your whole body twitches again.

“Mm,” he says. “You feel that? You getting all tight… and hot… just for me…”

“Felix,” you say, you beg.

He sits back on his heels to get your wedding dress off. It is a flurry of ivory and silk, earning some laughter, then it is gone and your husband is staring down at you. Again, you feel like prey, like a meal spread out helplessly for some predatory creature. Again, you like it.

He is just as impatient with his own clothes. He does not look away from you while tearing his shirt open. Buttons fly, forgotten, and he rips the material down his arms and off. His belt is next, leather whistling through the air then joining the heap on the floor. He grabs your hand and guides it to the hard shape in his white pants, groaning deep in his chest as your palm curves around it.

You are so captivated him, by the way he feels, by the sounds he makes, that you are surprised when he touches you too. Your legs part instinctively, then your thighs twitch to close when you are embarrassed by your eagerness.

“Don’t be shy,” he says. “Not with me.” His fingers feel divine inside you, gliding as if through silk, pressing at your walls and making you whimper. “Yeah, my baby. So nice… ‘n wet… for me…” he murmurs, more to himself than you. It still makes you clench, like your body wants him deeper, pulling tight around him. “God. Perfect.”

“Aren’t we g-gonna—” Your eyes drop to his waistband, then up to his eyes again.

He smiles, laughs, and withdraws his fingers slowly.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he says, unbuttoning his pants. “We are. Be patient. You’re gonna enjoy this. Gonna remember this night forever.” He leans down so his body is over yours. He kisses you, presses you into the pillows. When he pulls back, he traces a finger along the necklace, smiling brightly. “The first time I made you mine,” he says, speaking low and soft against your lips. “I’m going to do everything with you,” he says. “And you’re gonna want it. All of it and more.”

He has you begging for more already. When he finally is pushing inside you, after so much torturous build-up, you are a breathless, sweaty tangle of limbs. It feels like he is pinning you to the mattress, taking you so deep and so hard, like your whole body is changing to fit him. There is a long, slow burn, but you are so wet and he is so careful; it is an ache that gives way to pleasure.

His arms are around you, holding him above you, making you feel so completely shielded and enveloped. He starts a slow pace that turns more frantic. Your hands move all over his chest and shoulders to find a grip.

“I love that no one else has seen you like this,” he says, grabbing your searching hand. He brings it to his mouth, kisses your palm, your fingers. He puts your hand on his shoulder, then he slides his hand under your head to cup your neck, holding you steady while he rolls his hips into yours. “That no one else has felt you before,” he says. “Been inside you. They don't get to have you, but I do.“

“Yes,” you say. “Always. My husband.”

“Mm.” He drops his forehead to yours. “My wife.”

You come again but it feels different, starting deep inside you and rolling outward, a full-body spasm that has you crying out his name. He comes too, holding you against him, his lips on your neck as he says your name.

Then he kisses you. Then he lays you down. He wraps you in his arms and squeezes.

“Sleep for now,” he says. “It’s been a long day. And I want you again.”

“You have me,” you say, nestling in his arms, your head under his chin.

“Yes,” he says with a smile. He looks so sweet even while his wicked hands hold your body in a strong, possessive grip. “I do.”

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix smut #felix smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut #lee felix x you #felix x you #valentinesdaystories

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shadykazama · 3 months ago

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Sun Wukong/The destined one (mostly relationship) headcanons!

The people have spoken and the people crave monkey business. So let's get down to it!

❤

Post journey Wukong is a wiser, stronger monkey, but don't let him fool you he's still a trickster at heart.

When you first meet, he has you refer to him as 'Great Sage'.

Earning the right to say his given name isn't so much a big moment as it is just him beginning to care for you. You slip up, whether it be because you were sick or injured or just not thinking, and he doesn't correct you. In fact he kind of likes it.

He doesn't make a big deal out of it, but if you watch closely you can see his tail twitch and his eyes lost in thought.

One character flaw you'll have to deal with, even when you're just friends, is Wukong thinks he knows what's best. He's old and wisened and POWERFUL; if he thinks he knows something will be best for you, he'll do it without so much as telling you.

Credit to Hanibalistic! Their one shot about Wukong and stealing an immortal peach for a mortal reader was perfect and exactly how I think he'd act! That impulsive, "I care about this person and will do what I think is best for them regardless of the consequences or their opinion" is very... him.

Hey, we all have our flaws. (Just don't tell him that.)

On the positive side, he wouldn't let a scratch befall you. At some point you'll stop instinctually defending yourself because of how safe you feel with him. Which is heavily ironic considering how often he himself will put you in dangerous situations just to pull a prank.

But besides your poor heart from getting scared so often, you have nothing to worry about. Wukong won't leave room for even one mistake to slip by him.

Expect him to never call you by your name, almost ever. He chronically tends to call people by titles or nicknames. From calling the tang monk, master, or how he'd call Bajie 'idiot' for most of the book- just expect something. He'd only refer to you by name if he were really serious.

Something I personally find really funny that isn't represented in many medias with him is that he's OLD. He's old as hell and he knows it. In the book he'll often refer to basically everyone as 'nephew' or 'little brother' which is oddly endearing and also really funny.

I feel as though most people don't utilize how heavy he is- even in movies and stuff. His staff is like thousands of pounds! You aren't moving him unless he wants you to. God forbid you end up cuddling. Even while resting I never think he'd put his full weight on you, but you'd definitely be stuck.

Will never refuse to help you, but will tease you endlessly for needing it. "Helpless little thing aren't you?"

His love language is gift giving and acts of service.

He's impulsive with words, but look at how he treats you and you'll see how he cares.

Considering his connections, expect to have the world at your fingertips. He'll never leave you wanting, you'll always be satisfied. There is no gift beyond his reach. Just be careful what you ask for, because he WILL get it one way or another.

He is a king, a leader- it's basically second nature to be serviced, and that's why it's so important how he acts toward you. For you, he stays vigilant, ready to catch you if you fall or feed you when you're hungry. For you, he'll carry you in his arms if you're tired. For you he'd put himself in servitude.

Monkeys also show affection to one another by grabbing at each other for attention, and grooming one another's hair.

I don't think he'd have any trouble getting your attention, he's very vocal! So he'd focus more on your hair. Don't be surprised if he randomly starts combing through with his fingers or just playing with it. It's calming for him, and another form of affection.

You've changed him for the better... And for the worse. He happier, more content and occupied (which is good for everyone). BUT, should you ever disappear or get stolen from him he would surely devastate heaven and earth to get you back. The last thing anyone needs is another, more wrathful, Wukong rampage.

Expect to get shown off at every convenience! You're his king/queen and he'll make sure everyone knows it.

You have the BIGGEST wedding. And I think the best part would've been the Chuangmen, which is a wedding game tradition, usually meant for the groom to prove his loyalty, devotion, and desire to marry the bride by completing tests made by her bridesmaids. There are a ton of really interesting Chinese wedding traditions that I would recommend reading about, but with the sheer power of Wukong, these challenges in particular could've been absolutely ridiculous!

Wukong isn't jealous, no that would be ridiculous, he has nothing to fear. That by no means doesn't mean that he doesn't get offended on your behalf. He's gotten upset at not being greeted properly, there's no way in HELL he doesn't get pissed if someone were to flirt with you. They're lucky if all he does is kill them.

Feel free to make fun of him for not being able to swim. He'll absolutely make you regret it, but do it anyway it'll be funny.

Am I the only one that thinks he'd be great with kids? 🤚

Like COME ON- the dude probably helps take care of the baby monkeys on his mountain. He tells them cool stories to get them riled up. Will lay down and let them play with his hair while you read or sing to him.

Give this man kids I dare you.

That's a topic for a different post 😌

Likes kissing you on the top of the head, will also lay his forehead against yours just to be close to you.

These two designs I really like for him! Y'all let me know in the comments which version is your favorite <3

💙

The destined one may look like Wukong, but they're certainly different in... most areas.

Being selectively mute makes things a good share more difficult to communicate with him than Wukong, but it has it's charms.

You'd just been... tagging along with him. He didn't mind, unlike the wolves and undead he'd been beating through, you proved no threat to him.

He figured you would just leave on your own- or die. But by some miracle even he didn't understand, you stuck by him through rain and dust storms alike. By the time you made it to the New West he felt obligated to keep you around.

For the first time since you started following him, you were actually in danger. And to both of your surprises, he dropped what he was doing to protect you.

Don't bother asking him why. Whether you do, or simply tell him thank you, he'll just wave you off. But you notice him walking closer to you than normal after that. No longer were you left to catch up with him while he sprinted off; he'd keep stride with you now, glancing at you every now and then.

He CAN talk, and he probably surprises you the first time he does. It's not even for something important. It's just one fateful night where you happen to decide to mess with his hair. You'd pull away after a moment and he'd rumble out a little, "Don't stop."

Now that you KNOW he can talk, it's even more annoying when he refuses to answer you.

He finds it amusing when you get frustrated with him about it. He can't help it. The whole time you're grumbling or ranting at him, he's just staring at you with his stoic face... thinking about how cute you are.

Feel free to give him a name. Not like he'll argue with whatever you pick-

But really, please call him something other than "the destined one". He'd never really needed a name before, but he'd treasure whatever you decide to call him.

He probably has a nickname for you too, he just only says it in his head...

Will click his tongue at you to get your attention. (Absolutely does the 'tsk tsk tsk' thing people do to call their cats)

Speaking of getting your attention- ^ remember how monkeys show affection by just kind of grabbing each other and squeezing and pressing their head against each other?

Yeeeeah. He's a touchy monkey. He won't ask for affection, so he kind of just does it himself. Will rub his head on you, not unlike how cats or rabbits do to mark things they like. Except he's just doing it to be affectionate.

Gets cuteness aggression and WILL just grab you.

If it wasn't obvious, his love languages are physical touch and quality time.

Doesn't need help putting armor on, but if you want to help he won't stop you. (The closeness makes his heart beat fast)

If you were ever both in a bad spot- being threatened and not in a place to put up a good fight, he'd cover your body with his and bare his fangs at whatever was trying to hurt you guys to intimidate it. (It probably wouldn't work- but it's an instinctual response.)

If your feet got cold in the snow in the New West he'd pick you up and let you rest on his back for awhile.

Likes when you rely on him like that, it makes him feel stronger. And besides it just "being his destiny", knowing you'll get hurt if he loses helps him focus during fights.

Terribly jealous individual.

The glare he would give someone is straight up deadly. Watch out for how his tail flicks around when he's irritated too 🤭.

Absolutely adores the sound of your voice, it could bring him out of a coma fr.

Doesn't mind being little or big spoon, he just likes cuddling. Wraps his tail around you when you do.

Always always makes sure you eat before he does, even though he's the one doing all the fighting.

Will let you win play fights (most of the time).

Hearing him laugh is the cutest thing ever I swear- It probably took you off guard the first time you manage it.

Doesn't know how to take compliments.

Probably short circuited the first time you complimented his appearance.

Very gentle, slow kisser. Likes having you in his lap, but will grab cheeky kisses every now and then too. Will tilt your chin up when you kiss, every time.

Art by @marcu-bug

#sun wukong #black myth wukong #the destined one #headcanons #x reader #journey to the west #sun wukong x reader #the destined one x reader

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genderqueerdykes · 10 months ago

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as someone who has been chronically homeless for 9 years due to severe disability, the way housing is managed in america is just a joke. it's all about the profits for the landlord, nothing else matters. credit checks are a gate to keep out poor people. deposits are a gate to keep out poor people. you wanna apply for a low-income housing program? you HAVE to have a "severe" disability diagnosis and proof that you're too disabled to afford or apply for "normal" housing. this is a gate to keep out poor people.

people in positions to help house homeless people don't care because they're housed. there's no sense of urgency. they don't have to think about what it's like to go without a roof over their head. they get paid tens of dollars an hour to sit there and scoff at all of the "lazy poor and disabled people who should just get jobs and stop whining and expecting to have things handed to them." they get paid to ignore emails and take 2 hour long lunches to forget about how hard and scary the world really is.

how the FUCK are you supposed to work when you don't have a place to sleep at night, shower, or eat? come the fuck on. use your goddamn brain. this system is built off of abuse, lying and torture. nobody earns an "honest" day's pay, none of this is "honest" work. it's all built off of the backs of lying and stealing from someone who needs it more. jobs aren't given to the person who's the most qualified- they're given to the person who lied the most to make themselves sound good during the interview. jobs are given to people who are good at interviews, NOT people who are GOOD at what they do.

i don't know how to tell you that when the average person isn't making enough to eat, fuel their car or pay for their phone, they also can't afford the roof over their head. disabled people and low-income people are struggling even worse with this. i don't know how to tell people that you should care about this.

we are literally all the same species. we are all humans. you cannot look down on disabled, poor and addicted people because we're "scum" and "less than human". we're not. that's a lie you're being fed by capitalism to feel better about yourself so you'll keep blindly working. wake up. this is not how humans behave. you're being brainwashed. everyone needs a stable home. EVERYONE. especially if you want them to contribute to your stupid money machine.

capitalism makes no fucking sense. give people homes or get the fuck out of our way, because we're about to just start taking them. this is unsustainable. this is unliveable. this system doesn't fucking work. a system that leaves its people to starve and die while apartments, homes, condos, and hotel rooms stay empty and collect dust doesn't work. none of this shit works. fuck this fascist system. none of us are free.

#homelessness #housing #human rights #punk #trans punx #trans punks #queer punks #cripplepunk #cripple punk #crip punk #cpunk #our writing #about us #anticapitalism #antiwork #anti capitalism #anti work

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aaagustd · 3 months ago

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pairing: producer!cheol x (f)reader // genre: meaningless smut // wc: 0.8k // warnings: f*ngering, c*m eating(finger sucking), kissing, public s*x, unedited; 18+

note: this is probably bad but my allergies are kicking my butt. i still wanted to post though. divider credit.

check out my taglists here.

When a hot producer asks you out, he can sense your nervousness as soon as you get in his expensive car. “What helps you relax?” is what he asks you. Your answer was not one that he expected, but it turned him on like nothing else has. Dinner will just have to wait for now.

“Fuck!” Your entire body trembles with pleasure. The shame of wanting a stranger to ruin you on the hood of his Benz is long gone—so has the fear of being caught while you’re getting fingered in an alley.

Your hands grasp his shirt while your watery eyes stare into his. It’s a silent plea for him to give you more, to bury another one of his long digits into your needy heat.

He chuckles. “No matter how much this little cunt gets, it always wants more, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, god. Yes–It wants more. Please,” you whimper, burying your face in his shirt to muffle your cries. His hand has only been down your panties for about two minutes and you’re already falling apart. “More, please.”

“Well, if you’re that horny…” He grabs your hair and forces you to look at him. “Just sit your pretty ass back and let me see what kind of faces you make when you cum.”

You prop yourself on your arms and observe his work, gasping when a third finger enters your pussy. Your legs are spread wide, and you buck off the vehicle to match his movements, swirling your hips when his palm touches your throbbing clit to add more stimulation. If you weren’t about to reach your high, you’d be begging him to replace his digits with whatever it was that was pressed against your ass a few minutes ago.

“Goddamn it, how are you this wet?”

The lewd noises your leaking pussy produces explain why your panties are a sticky and sodden mess. Your clothes cling to your body due to the sweat forming on your skin, giving you the urge to get rid of the damn things. Of course, you can’t, but it would be nice right about now. “Is this all for me? Couldn’t resist me, could you?”

“I—”

“You wanted me inside of you? That’s understandable, babe. Everyone does,” he claims.

The tension boils to a head when his fingers curl inside of you.

“I can’t hold it anymore,” you warn, reaching out to grip his arm.

His eyes soften as he pities the pathetic mess he’s made of you. He lifts his hand to cup your face before he grabs your throat, squeezing gently. “Then let go, love.”

A switch flips when he winks. The coil snaps and the sky of red-orange and deep purples begins to spin around you. He’s forced to cover your mouth quickly to suppress your screams, but his fingers continue to move at a fast pace, milking you of every ounce of energy you have left.

You almost fall back onto the car when your body finally relaxes, but his strong arms prevent you from doing so. In a state of haziness, you can still make out the sight of him licking his fingers clean of your arousal, moaning loudly as he tastes you.

You’re pulled in for a sloppy kiss and you’re thrilled that the taste of you still lingers on his tongue. Your legs wrap around him, trying to trap him so you can unzip his pants. However, he stops you before you can do so.

“Now right now, love.”

You pout. “But—”

His large hands find your ass and pull you towards the edge so he can keep you close.

“Later,” he says sternly, earning him another sad face.

He laughs at you for a second, resting his chin on top of your head while you lean on his firm chest.

“Seungcheol,” he announces out of nowhere. “That’s my name if you care to use it.”

“Hell yeah, I care,” you assure after introducing yourself. “ I’ve never done that before. Thank you for not judging me. Well, to my face, at least.”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “I’d never. Plus, you’re hot. I wouldn’t want to ruin my chances of getting to know you.”

“Really?” You didn’t mean to sound so excited. Now he probably thinks you’re a groupie.

But he just smiles and pulls away. “You’re cute. Come on, let’s go somewhere and talk.”

He helps you down and guides you to the passenger side of the car. He opens the door for you and waits patiently for your wobbly legs to climb inside.

“Are you hungry?” he asks.

“No, I’m okay—”

When he gives you a look, you come clean. “I’m starving.”

“Cool. Let’s grab dinner and go back to my place. Then you can show me which of my cars you want me to fuck you on next.”

He shuts the door without another word, leaving your sticky thick thighs rubbing together.

#seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #scoups smut #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #s coups x reader #s coups smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #scoups fanfic #scoups imagines #seungcheol imagine #aaagustd.fics

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hoodielord · 1 year ago

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Green eyes in the fear fog.

For half a second, Steph thought today would be a decent day. But no, not in Gotham.

Steph's current events professor, who was also the head of student affairs, had offered extra credit to help give college tours. Look, she had to take the extra credit she had to, even if it meant that she had to be a tour guide. It wasn't hard, just annoying.

The group was small, only five people, but two of them stuck out. A brother and sister. The brother was the definition of adoption bait blue eyes, black hair, vigilante tendencies withholding. The sister was at least as tall as Jason. She had orange hair just like Babs, you'd think they were related.

Anyways, Steph's new mission was to make sure the kid and Dick never met. The kid would not stop making puns. Some of them earned him a laugh but some earned him a smack from his sister.

"Aw, come on, Jazz, it was funny."

"You can do better." she shrugged.

" Sounds like a challenge." A wicked smirk appeared on his face.

" Danny, please don't."

"Challenge accepted."

Yep, I'm definitely keeping him away from Dick.

But something was off about them other than looking at the crime capital's university. They could probably be metahumans. Their eyes seemed to slightly glow blue. They carried themselves as they had already expected danger. I mean, it pays to be prepared, especially in Gotham, but they aren't from here.

If the siblings weren't already on a list B has they should be now. Jazz had been almost ecstatic when we were moving through the psychology department. Danny was practically bouncing off the walls when it was time to go through the engineering and physics departments. Definitely should keep an eye on them.

It was reaching the end of the tour in the cafeteria. Another weird thing about the siblings was their reaction to food. They seemed to have this sort of optimistic curiosity like they were happy to have food to eat, but at the same time, they were poking to make sure it wouldn't attack or something.

Talking with the siblings was interesting too. Danny was buzzing about the engineering department. He went into a great rant about a project that Wayne Enterprises was working on in the aerospace engineering division. Maybe she should keep him away from Tim, too.

The conversation died quickly when a shriek rang out from down the hall. Steph turned quickly to see green fear toxin fill the cafeteria. Swarms of people ran for the exits knocking each over. She quickly dug through her bag and pulled out her gas masks, one for her and her backup.

"Jazz? Jazz, where did you go?" Danny called. They must have gotten separated.

Damn, she needed another one for the siblings. She shoved her spare into Danny's hands.

" Put the mask on and head for the exit."

"But I need to find Jazz."

"I'll find her. Put the mask on and go." Steph yelled as she went further into the fog. Quickly, she sent an alert to Oracle. Signal is on patrol right now, but more bats might show up.

It was dense she could barely see in front of her. There was some noise up ahead. Someone was screaming. The yelling grew louder as she rounded the corner.

"Stop! Get away!"

It was Jazz. She was practically growling. Her fist slammed into the concrete wall, leaving a deep impact. She was clearly affected by the Fear gas. A meta affected with fear gas, not good.

"Stop! Don't hurt him. He's not a monster! He's my little brother!" Jazz had gone from fury to sadness as she practically begged for her hallucination to stop haunting her.

If it wasn’t the meta thing it was whatever she was hallucinating that caught Steph’s attention. Definitely on B's list now.

"Isn't it interesting what fear does to the mind?"

Steph saw Scarecrow emerge from the fog.

"I saw you in the psychology department. Your eyes lit up like a fire. But now they are clouded with fear."

A chill went up Steph's spine. She quickly checked her mask for leaks but didn't have any. Turning her attention back to Jazz and Scarecrow, she saw something. Green eyes shifted inside the fog. They looked like a predator hunting its prey. For a second, they look like Jason's.

From behind Scarecrow, the eyes stopped, and a figure emerged. A baseball bat slammed into Scarecrow's face, knocking him to the floor. The figure came into full view now. It was Danny his eyes were glowing green.

He knelt down to Scarecrow.

"You really don't have any brains. Do you Scarecrow? If you did, you wouldn't have hurt my sister." His voice was downright, frigid.

He turned and rushed over to Jazz who was still trying to convince her hallucinations to stop.

"Jazz, it's okay. Come on, I'm fine. It's okay." His voice was soft and gentle as he helped her up. Jazz mumbled a little as she stumbled down the hall.

Steph quickly caught up to the siblings slinging Jazz's arm over her shoulder.

"Sorry, I couldn't help earlier," Steph spoke quietly.

"It's fine. Not everybody can be a hero."

Steph wanted to laugh at the irony of that statement, but she just nodded.

"Sorry about the tour too."

"It wasn't all bad."

" Oh, the rouge attack and poisoning wasn’t bad?" Steph asked sarcastically.

" Our hometown is haunted and our community college is funded by my godfather. And he is a rich fruit loop.”

‘Ghosts?’

“You know Gotham University is funded by Wayne Enterprises right?”

“Annoying crazy fruit loop or weird himbo? Hmmm. Yeah, I’m going to have to go with the himbo on this one.”

Steph laughed at that one. Bruce is going to want to hear about this but she’ll keep him away from these siblings for a little while.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #Danny and Jazz visit colleges #Steph is the relucent tour guide #Had a vivid image of Danny emerging from the fog to beat Scarecrow pop into my head it turned into this.#why does my brain get ideas when it is time for me to sleep why?

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 3 months ago

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Ties That Bind

Strings of Fate alt pov. (Soulmate!AU) Or, Jason Todd's soulmates see the very best in him, even if he doesn't see it in himself. ~3.3k words

When Bruce Wayne meets Jason Todd, he's wearing enough Kevlar to stop a small missile. The kid in the red hoodie is hardly his first soulmate, but he is the first to steal the tires off the batmobile.

He wavers at the sight. The kid's clearly too small for his age. Bruce is already mentally setting aside a trust fund for him, considering what favors he can call in to get the kid into Gotham Prep.

The dark blue string that glows between them makes something in him soften, even if he should know better. His attention trails between the new string, the boy, and the other, more frayed string that leads to his eldest son.

He wonders vaguely if this string will fray, too. (It will do worse. It will grey and vanish, and Bruce Wayne Batman will fail another soulmate)

He opens his mouth to speak, to ask why he's out here, if he has some place to go, if his family knows he's here, but the sound of metal clings through the alley, and the kid runs.

It won't be hard, for Batman to catch up to him.

It will be hard to earn Jason Todd's trust.

It won't be hard when a new Robin flies by his side.

It won't be hard to smile, to laugh, to see hope and light in Gotham.

It won't be hard at all, to see the best in his son, to see all the good that makes up Jason Todd.

It will be hard to hold his son in his arms. It will be harder to know he's failed him.

It will be impossible, as the years pass, to not flinch every time he looks down at his index finger and sees an empty space where a string should be.

Alfred Pennyworth has gained and lost many strings in his life. He cherishes the ones that shine, neatly tied around his arms and fingers.

He meets his second grandson in the batcave.

The boy is flighty, untrusting, and Alfred loves him all the more for it. It takes sheer patience, good books, and many plates of cookies to earn Jason Todd's reluctant trust. Alfred's proud to be one of the few people who can say Jason is relaxed in their presence.

He's proud as he watches Jason save lives, study, laugh, and bring joy. Joy. He brings it to so many people, even people who aren't his soulmate, without asking for any return.

Yes, Alfred Pennyworth is proud. He's proud, even as he watches the blue string fray and fade. He's proud as they lower a small casket into the ground.

He's still proud, when no one sees the tears that spill when he makes a recipe that used to have a second set of hands helping.

Barbara Gordan is Batgirl. She's quick on her feet, stronger than people give her credit for, and just as smart as any other vigilante out there. So, she's not surprised to see a purple string appear between her and the newest Robin.

He's small, but fast and doesn't show an ounce of fear even as she pulls him out of the way of a bullet. Her heart melts a little when he smiles at her, gap toothed and bright, and she can't help but smile back.

She may miss the practiced partnership she had with Dick, but Jason makes a home for himself in her life. Batgirl watches Robin's back, and he's just as loyal and selfless in return.

Barbara knows he's destined for great things. She can see it in the way he takes time to talk to the citizens of crime alley, to pet and feed the strays that hide from most people.

It's why she sobs when the purple string breaks. It's why she steels herself to be better, to try harder, to never let another Robin be without a Batgirl.

(She will fail at this. It will plague her. She will become stronger, better, and anything she needs to be)

Dick Grayson is not impressed by the boy wearing his colors. He's tiny, and his cape seems to swallow him whole. But he did manage to land silently next to him on the roof overlooking Penguins' latest operation.

Dick's not exactly sure why the kids here, he definitely didn't tell anyone he was going to be in Gotham. But, if the blue string glowing between them is anything to go by, they were gonna meet eventually.

He didn't mean to make a face at the new Robin, really, he just wasn't ready to meet him.

He wanted to be in and out of Gotham, not trying to deal with another soulmate he never asked for. Not while the name Nightwing is still new and the blue suit doesn't quite feel right sometimes.

Jason doesn't know any of this. (Yes, he knows the kids' names. Yes, he's been keeping tabs on Bruce.) So, Dick Grayson steadies himself and invites the kid to team up.

Robin Jason fights well, knows when to duck and when to fight dirty. Nightwing leaves Gotham feeling lighter and heavier all at once.

He'll visit his brother(?) a few weeks later, they'll get ice cream and show off to each other and it'll be nice. Jason will hand off a bag full of Alfred's cooking, and a plate of cookies he shyly admits he helped make.

Dick silently promises to be better to the kid who wears his family's colors.

He never gets the chance. Jason is dead and buried by the time he returns to Earth with the Titans. Another soulmate dies in the colors meant to spread joy and hope. (This will change him forever)

Talia al Ghul did not expect a blue string to bind her to Jason Todd. She plans for nearly everything, expects the worst, and hopes for the best.

So, when she found her Beloved's son wandering in a daze, she should have been prepared for the shimmering, ocean blue string to tie itself to her left index finger when he looked at her.

(She wasn't, and she'll stare between Jason's string, and the one on her right index finger leading to her other son for an entire night)

Thalia will take him back to Nanda Parbat, out of duty, out of hope that if she can help Jason, it will bring Bruce back to her, and out of love. The boy follows her– the string– like it's the only thing that matters.

She will never admit it, but it will break her heart. She chances the Lazarus Pit, it helps and hurts him all at once. He no longer follows her around. He trains until there's hardly a soul in the League he can not beat.

Talia watches her son become aimless, restless, and tormented by the past. She hopes with all that she has, and introduces him to Damian.

She knows a blue string forms between them when Jason flinches. He leaves in the night, and takes a part of her with him.

She understands why. It doesn't stop her from tracking him from afar until he finds himself in Gotham again, parading around under the name of his killer. Her beloved will understand soon enough, and she hopes her son will find a home again.

Batman meets Red Hood on a crumbling roof in Crime Alley. The crime lord has been a thorn in his and the GCPDs side for months. He sees the glimmer of a string start to form, but doesn't get to process it before Red Hood is unloading a clip at him.

He dives out of the way, and by the time he comes out of his roll, Red Hood is gone. Batman checks for the new string. But there isn't one, no new line leading from him to a soulmate. He checks again.

Bruce Wayne loses all the air in his lungs when he realizes what has changed. It doesn't make sense. It can't be possible. But there's no lying when it comes to strings. Jason Todd is Red Hood. And for once, Batman doesn't have a plan.

Tim Drake knows soulmates are precious. Each string he's gained is worth cherishing. Each string he's lost is a scar. (He traces where they used to be when he can't sleep)

Tim Drake knows who Red Hood is. Was it a surprise? Sure, it can only mean good things for his family, even if Red Hood is running the majority of crime in Gotham. Jason was the light of Gotham, after all.

He believes that with his whole heart. Which is why he's cautiously excited when a royal blue string ties from his wrist to Red Hood.

It's also why he laughs when Jason Todd breaks half the bones in his body. He's dealt with worse, and he breaks a few of Red Hood's bones in return.

Tim is still laughing when Red Hood stumbles away and leaves. It's kind of funny, he's lost almost all of his best friends, and now he has a brother who hates him. But it's not all bad, he decides, the tracker he managed to get into Jason's jacket will be plenty useful.

Dick Grayson finds Jason Todd by his favorite gargoyle. It's the only thing still familiar about him. But as the string reforms between him, something in his soul slots into place. He sits next to him and talks.

He's not exactly sure what he talks about, but he talks and talks until he's not sure what to say and then talks some more. Jason never answers, but he doesn't leave either. It's enough, it's a start, and he tells his little brother to visit Alfred some time when he goes to leave.

(Red Hood will show up in Blüdhaven later that month. They will work a case together, it will be sloppy and then won't know each other's blind spots. Dick hasn't had so much fun in years)

Alfred Pennyworth is making tea in the kitchen of Wayne Manor when his second grandson nearly gives him a heart attack. One moment, he's alone, and the next, the man who used to be Gotham's biggest crime lord is standing five feet away.

They don't talk much, but Jason still remembers how to make his favorite cup of tea. Alfreds packs up enough food to feed him for a week, and makes him promise to at least call once a month.

Alfred is proud to say he gets a call once a week, and a time to meet out in the city once a month. He's even prouder to say his grandson has grown and learned and thrived.

Barbara Gordan is Oracle, and she's damn good at what she does. She's working intel for the Birds of Prey when the motion sensors around the clock tower go off.

She turns just in time to see the purple string form between her and Red Hood. He takes off his helmet. She appreciates that.

He looks lost for words. She feels lost for words. But she finds them anyway. She tells him it's good to see him, and it really is. She's been keeping tabs on him, knows what he's trying to do, trying to be. He hesitantly tells her he's going to be out of Gotham for a while.

Oracle hands him a comlink before he leaves. She tells him it's her own personal line, not connected at all to The Bat. She tells him to keep in touch. (She knows he'll listen)

Both versions of The Outlaws adore Jason Todd. Arsenal and Starfire, Artemis and Bizzaro, all find good in the purple string that ties them to Red Hood. The team isn't a magical fix all, and sometimes what they do isn't right, but it's theirs.

It's theirs, and they have each other even when it seems like there's nothing else. There's a comfort in that, a comfort in the steady glow of the purple string. There's a comfort in knowing their soulmate would take on the world at their side.

Spoiler knows she shouldn't be in Crime Alley, knows that the newly returned Red Hood doesn't appreciate Bats in his territory. But she's not a Bat, so she thinks she's earned an exception. And if she's being honest, she could use someone to talk to.

Her other soulmates, the other vigilantes, well, there's been a distance between her and them since her return. So, yeah, maybe she's a little lonely and a little hurt, and maybe she's willing to risk getting shot over the chance Red Hood is one of her soulmates. (And that he'll understand)

She's optimistic when a purple string forms between them, but less so when he tells her to leave. Stephanie's never been good at following directions, so she stays. He doesn't shoot her, which she takes as permission to come back again.

And she does. She comes back again and again. She brings him coffee. After a few times, he actually takes his helmet off to drink it. Jason's a good listener, and she really doesn't mean to spill her sob story about dying and knowing what it's like to reform a string.

She knows he's dealt with enough of that. But he doesn't make fun of her, doesn't tell her to get over herself. He just pats her shoulder when she goes to leave that night. (She cries when the news reports on Red Hood delivering Black Mask to prison only two days later)

Cassandra Cain is skilled and very good at what she does. She knows this, and she's proud of it. She smiles behind her mask when she makes her new brother jolt in surprise.

If anything, he should have been paying more attention to the thugs around him; she'd taken out more than half of them before he realized she was there.

She pokes at the string connecting them, incredibly pleased it's the color she wanted it to be. She pats her little brother's arm and leaves the scene, her night is hardly over after all.

Cass doesn't need to ask for his address, she already knows it. So, she happily makes herself at home on his couch at least once a week. He puts on movies for them to watch, even though she can tell he's not exactly sure what to do with her.

She calls him 'baby brother', and he learns how to make her favorite treats in return. She likes that he bends down so she can ruffle his hair, and makes a note of how he leans into the touch. Her soulmate definitely needs more hugs.

Damian Wayne can handle himself. He's Robin. He's an Al Ghul. He's the blood son of the Bat. So he doesn't need his soulmate's help. But his mother always told him Todd is skilled. Todd has a bleeding heart for everyone. He can use that.

He's definitely not trying to work up the courage to enter Red Hood's territory, when the person in question jumps down next to him. Huh. He didn't sense him coming. Maybe he's lost more blood than he's thought.

"Mother told me to seek you if I ever needed anything," Damian tells him, and bites back a wince. Those aren't the words he wanted. He sounds like a child and he doesn't need anything from Jason Todd.

Todd is quiet for a moment, and Damian expects to be turned away. But he's not, he's led to a safehouse instead. He's able to patch his wounds up without Todd noticing, and the next night, he goes into battle with a brother at his side. (They fight like they've been spent years at each other's sides)

Duke Thomas has heard all the stories about Jason Todd. He's curious, sue him, so he seeks out Red Hood just after the sun starts to set. Duke nods like he expected it to happen when he sees the blue string that ties around his forearm. (He wasn't sure it would, but it's a shiny, good color)

Red Hood eyes him, or at least Duke assumes he does. It's kind of hard to tell with the helmet. "Do you need something," Jason asks.

Duke doesn't actually have a plan past this. But he's Signal, and he's great at thinking on his feet, so he asks Jason if he's ever had the chili dogs a couple blocks away.

He's surprised when Jason says no, and he's even more surprised when they end up eating half of food carts' chili dogs.

It ends up being fun, taking down some thugs trying to rob a bank, with Red Hood fighting alongside him. Duke throws out a few jokes, and he manages to make Jason laugh. (He will brag about it to the rest of his soulmates later)

Duke grins when he gets handed a number at the end of the night. He's proud and only a little smug to have seemingly impressed his newest brother. (He will also brag about this)

You were not anticipating getting mugged tonight. Yes, it's always a possibility in Gotham. But you were careful, the street you were on had working lights! So it's annoying when a group of men try to get you to hand over your things.

You're relieved when Red Hood drops down from seemingly out of nowhere to take them out. But you're not completely sure what to feel when a red string ties itself to your pinkie and leads right to him.

He doesn't seem to know what to feel either, because you're just staring at each other in silence on an empty street. It makes you a little braver to see him as knocked off center as you are, at least you think that's what he's feeling.

It's hard to tell when he hasn't moved, and his helmet is dipped down to get a better look at you. So, you break the silence and tell him your name.

His helmet snaps up, "What?"

Oh. Maybe he wasn't looking at you. You tentatively repeat your name, and for a second dread pools in your gut. What if he wants nothing to do with you? What if he leaves?

Soulmates not wanting each other are rare, but not exactly unheard of. You step towards him, ready to plead your case on giving you a chance.

"Red Hood," he supplies, cutting you off before you can speak. It's entirely unhelpful. You know who he is. You think this is his way of keeping the distance.

But, it's not. That thought barely gets to form before Red Hood offers to walk you home.

He keeps coming back, keeps hovering on your fire escape until you start to invite him inside. And soon enough, Jason Todd becomes a part of everything in your life.

He's sweet, kind, and so, so careful. He tugs your string when he's late to come home, a reassurance. He barely leaves your side, the first time you meet his sister.

Your soulmate is good. He makes you happy. You so badly want to be good to him, to make him happy too. You think you do, at least sometimes.

He smiled when you offered to watch his brother's dog, kissed you senseless the first time you made his grandfather's cookies.

You're not there, when Bruce Wayne offers his son a velvet box, a ring passed down from Wayne to Wayne nestled inside. You're asleep, curled into his side when he vows to be brave for you.

But you're there and wide awake when Jason Todd pulls the box from his jacket and drops down to one knee. You're there when he smiles nervously at you, tells you he's never been good at this kind of thing, at anything, really. But you make him feel like he is.

He tells you he loves you. He tells you he doesn't need a red string to know you're his soulmate. He asks you to marry him.

You say yes while peppering his face with kisses. You're giddy, when he slides the ring onto your finger, his smile matching yours.

He kisses you, again and again, and the glowing red string that ties you together seems to sing.

#jason todd x reader #soulmate au #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #soulmate!jason todd

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brailsthesmolgurl · 9 months ago

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WHY HER?

Another angst/fluffy oneshot required by one of you. I swear, the ones who are following me, most of you have a thing for angst :0 But it is okay my babies, as I am nothing different from you guys :) this will be a bit shorter than my usual oneshot lengths but hope it is just as enjoyable for you guys :)))

Warnings: Angst but don't worry my lovelies, there shall be comfort for this round. Reader is not main character in game.

Please note all artworks are credited to the artist @chimmyming on Twitter, please do go and support the artist! Click onto the pictures and there shall be a link on it that brings you straight to their artwork!

Rafayel

You sat at the beach, looking far out into the ocean as you waited for Rafayel. He had agreed to meet you today for a nice evening walk but it was VERY UNLIKE HIM to be late for any meetings with you. Furthermore, you had only came back from your business trip recently, and the last thing you had expected was for your lover to be late to this long-awaited meet up.

Taking out your phone, you decided to give your boyfriend a call. "Hello, Rafayel?" You spoke once the call was picked up. "Where are you mister?"

"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the call caught you off guard. It was the voice you had heard Rafayel mentioned through his video calls with you for a couple of times. "Rafayel will be there in a bit." You heard a slither of your boyfriend's voice echoing in the background, shouting out something and the girl repeated his message. "He told you to---"

You hung up the call. Not even bothering for an apology nor an answer. Just hearing her voice made your blood boil. It does not help either when Rafayel would mention about her during your business trip. He would say, "Oh she helped me with the drawings today, as she said purple would fit better than orange." or "We went and got some paint today by the shop that was at the corner of the Bloom Street. She asked me to buy the conch shells too."

The recollection of him telling you all about their activities brought tears to your eyes, pulling your knees up to your chest and you stopped fighting the tears coming out of your eyes. When did she took your place? Helping him with his artworks? Accompanying him to buy painting materials and buying seashells together? That is, and has always been the activity reserved for you. But maybe, your absence made him feel empty inside.

Standing up, you dusted the sand off of your pants and decided to head home. Your phone had rung for a couple of times but it had fallen on deaf ears. Unlocking your phone and rejecting the call, you decided to block him. What happen to Lemurians only having one mate for the rest of their life? A question raised in your head, but it goes unanswered.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Loud music filled the entirety of the darkness of the bar. Your hand held onto a cocktail glass, swivelling the Long Island Iced Tea in it. But here is the catch, none of the contents in the glass contained anything that has to do with its name. But it is surely going to get you wasted in no time.

You took another hit, feeling the burn go down your throat when you downed the whole glass in one go. The laser lights, light bars below the bar table and holograms of women dancing being the only source of lighting found within the bar, a good way for you to hide away from anyone you know.

You just wanted to drown out your thoughts, but forgetting the point that you had never been the type to handle alcohol well. Hence earning the title of you being the teetotal in every party and event you attend with Rafayel. Speaking of the man, your eyes wandered down to your cocktail glass, the empty contents a direct reflection of your mind right now, empty.

When your mind started to get hazy further, you knew it was the right time to leave. You slowly maneuvered your way through the club till you were nearing the exit. A guy came in front of you to block your exit. "Where are you going, pretty lady? Do you need a ride home?"" His hand reached for your arm and you winced, his hold tight.

"Leave me alone. I am not interested." You pushed him with your hands and the guy barely budged. His tight grip on you still unfaltering. Instead, he started leading you out of the club, and into the alleyway.

"Bad girls don't deserve a good treatment. And seeing how wasted you are, I doubt you could stop me. So just be a good girl and take it." His words made you teared up, hand still coming up to push him with all of your might, sobs started surfacing from your breath.

"Help me!" You shouted out, head aching and eyes widening when you caught sight of the guy undoing his belt. He is planning to rape you isn't he?

"Nobody can hear you don't worry, so save your breath for me when I take you baby girl." He chuckled darkly but a spark caught your eye and the guy immediately got lit up in flames. Bright red colour lighting up the dark alleyway.

"Y/N!" The familiar voice called out to you, your sobs not stopping till someone grabbed you and you pushed with all of your drunken might, traumatised by how you were nearly raped by a stranger. The strong arms circled around your small body to pull you in close and your face hit against a taut chest. "Are you okay?!" And you passed out.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You woke up, eyes slowly fluttering opened and you winced at the throbbing of your head. Looking down at yourself, you realised your clothes had a change, you were wearing an oversized button up and you gasped, your memory piecing the fact that you almost got raped yesterday night. Thinking you were still entrapped in a stranger's home, you turned your head and you caught sight of your boyfriend fast asleep next to you.

His purple hair sat on his head like a bird’s nest, a vibrant colour against his white pillow and bed sheets. Feeling movement on the bed, you watched when he slowly opened his eyes, lapis-lilac shades caught yours. "Good morning..." He spoke groggily and slowly sat up, the blanket sliding down to reveal his chiselled abs. It was rare for him to not wear clothes to sleep.

"I should go..." You said quickly, eyes avoiding his when you pulled the blanket aside and you realised, you were half naked, the oversized shirt covering your naked upper half and you were only dressed in your underwear underneath the clothing. You probably had sex with him, you thought to yourself as tears came to your eyes again. That was the last thing you wanted to do as you did not want anything to do with him anymore. "This...this mistake... It won't happen again. I'm sorry for being an inconvenience."

"Wait..." Rafayel was shocked at your response, his face contorted in disbelief. "Y/N, wait..." He quickly got out of bed, butt naked and nimbly searched for his pants and putting them on, as he quickly chased after you. You were already putting on your shirt, his button up strewn across the floor. You being in a hurry to leave him made his heart ached. "No, y/n wait." His hand clasped your arms when you were heading towards the door with your phone in hand.

He turned you around and was met with your bare face, red painted across your nose and eyes. "Just leave me alone. I wish you all the best with her." A silent tear fell and you pushed his hand away. But he grabbed your arm again, reluctant to let you leave.

"Nothing happened." Rafayel's tone was calm. "Trust me. Nothing happened between me and her." His hand came up to your face to wipe the tear but you looked away, not wanting him to touch you any further. "She only helped me with this. Come..." Holding onto your arm still, he guided you towards the backyard. A canvas placed in the middle of the yard. "She was helping me to create this for you." He turned the easel to reveal an artwork, featuring you by the beach, on the shore with a mermaid tail. Your tail. The artwork had hints of purple in it and the seashells they had gotten previously.

Amazed at the artwork, you turned towards your lover, eyes still bloodshot. "This explains why you had been cutting our calls short and with her picking up the call yesterday and you being late for our date?" Your hesitant tone was evident.

He pointed to the pile of pot paints on the floor next to the painting. "I was in a hurry to create this piece since you were only out for your business trip for 4 days. I wanted it to be perfect so I took a longer time than usual. I was trying to clean up the mess before I go and find you." He held your other hand in his when you turned to fully face him. "I wanted to show you this yesterday." He sighed and looked down. "I am sorry that I hurt you, you nearly got hurt because of me. But, I will never choose anyone else other than my lifetime mate. I will not choose anyone over you." His eyes looked deeply into yours.

"Rafayel..." Your eyes softened when you looked up at your lover. "Thank you." You took a small pause and smiled warmly. "Thank you for always choosing me." And you hugged him.

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

Xavier

"Y/N," Your name was called when your boyfriend approaches your desk, handing you some documents for you to upload into the computer. "I will be going out for my mission soon, so I will see you back at home later?" His gentle voice made you smiled and nodded. He leaned down to give you a peck on your cheek when he realised nobody was watching and you watched as he walked off, the blond hair of his forming a halo under the radiant sunlight.

"So you are paired with Xavier again?" You heard a few girls squealed beside you and you just sat at your desk, continue inputting information into your computer, but you cannot help eavesdropping. "How lucky are you to be paired with him. How many times have you been paired with him for combat?"

"Oh, uhm....Almost everytime I think." The brunette replied, her hair tied in a low ponytail. None of the people in the headquarters know of the fact that both of you are actually in a relationship as there was no need for anyone to know about your private lives. And staying undercover just makes things less complicated when it comes to work.

"But, do you think he would make a move on you?" The short haired brunette asked and Xavier's combat partner shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, a sign of not sure but there is a possibility of it happening as well.

"He did kind of brushed my hair out of my face and patted my head yesterday." Her response stopped you from typing any further as you felt your blood drained from your system. The girl-friend however, cheers and squeals for her friend's answer. You stood up, adjusting your outfit before you headed off to the washroom to take a break.

Washing your hands, you stare blankly at the mirror, studying your own reflection. Why would Xavier do this to you? You knew that your combat skills are non-existent, so that's why you kept yourself occupied with the information department, filing in documents for the deepspace hunters. They are more like the hands and feet while your department acts like the brain, collecting and providing information.

Maybe he likes girls with combat skills. Your mind jumped to that conclusion and you were snapped back to reality when the door opened up and you turned off the faucet, stepping past the same girl that was bragging about being close with your boyfriend. Your boyfriend no doubt is one of the popular males among the whole headquarters but all this while he had never made you worried. But why does her words affect you so greatly?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After work had ended, you took your time to walk instead of taking the subway, wanting to give yourself some time to walk after you had spent the whole day sitting in the office. You walked past a grocery store and remembered that you are running low on food at home so you decided to head into the grocery store to pick up some items.

Staring at the snacks isle, you were debating on whether to get popcorn or potato chips, since Xavier would like to munch on them whenever he is bored at home. So without much thought you just get both of it. You paid at the counter and held onto the plastic bags, resuming your walk back home.

Walking the streets during the evening is a sight to catch. The skies displaying orange and yellow, dashes of pink over the linings of the cloud that hung high above. It looks like a light show in the skies, but only that it is a natural phenomenon. Taking out your phone, you took a snapshot of the skies and checked the result. A frown coming upon your face when you know that cameras would never be able to fully capture nature’s beauty.

You turned a corner and you came across the sight of your boyfriend standing outside of the claw machine store that you would visit with him sometimes. Your eyes lit up, wanting to go up to him but you stopped in your tracks when you saw his combat partner appeared from the stores, her grin tugged from ear to ear, and her face clearly blushing.

Your hands tightened on your grocery bags when you noticed your boyfriend, who has his back facing you looking down at the girl. Oh, how you wished you could eavesdrop on their conversation right now. You would have wanted to know desperately what their conversation is about. A part of you is telling you to straight walk up there to claim your man while the other part of you is held back, heart heavy as you watched the girl's face lit up when she was conversing with your boyfriend.

And that was when you noticed she tip toed to lean up towards your boyfriend. That's it. You had seen enough. You turned away, and stomped the other way. Tears caught you off guard when you decided it is the best for you to step away. You do not want to cause a scene in the middle of the streets.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Finally found you." A voice broke the whispers of the wind. You stayed silent when you heard shuffling, someone taking a seat next to you. "Why are you out here, in the cold?"

You refused to face your boyfriend, eyes narrowed, lashes combatting against the cold harsh wind. Another shuffle could be heard again and you felt his hands on your shoulders, a heavy material wrapped over your shoulder. It was cold, but it could be a good excuse; to hide the actual fact of what caused your nose and eyes to take on a reddish colour. "Can you give me some time alone?"

"Why?" He asked, the puppy eyes he is known for stapled on his face when he tilted his head, trying to get a better look at your face. "Have you been crying?" His question made you turned your head to face him, cheeks still pressed against your knee.

"No." You blatantly lied and avoided his gaze again. "I don't have anything to talk to you about. You can go home first and wait for me at home."

"Are you sure?" His concern made you hid your face further into your knees and you nodded. Your reluctance to meet his eyes already confirmed his suspicion of something happening. So he asked further. "Were you happening to be watching me just now? When I was at the claw machine store?" Your silence gave him a sense of comfort. "So my senses are not wrong. That was you peeking out of the corner just now. And let me guess, you saw me with the hunter didn't you?"

How did he knew? You swear he probably has eyes on the back of his head. That thought sent a shiver down your spine. You adjusted your seating and he sat closer to you. "And...you probably saw how she wanted to kiss me, with her on her tip toes." It was crazy on how accurate he was on this.

He unwrapped your arms around your knees and slowly pulled you into his side, placing his arms around you and letting your head lay on his shoulder. Xavier's scent enveloped you, talcum powder and vanilla. There is no need for him to use any sorts of perfume when he himself is a walking perfume that nobody could remake. That is how he always smelled like and a part of you wondered if she managed to smell it from him as well.

"I would have teased you further, and enjoy the way you would have reacted when you are jealous. But," His hands smoothed over your hair, tucking some strands behind your ear gently. "I pushed her away before she could even come close enough. I even told her about us." You looked up at him, his cerulean orbs now light grey under the stars. "I don't think it would be a good idea to hide our relationship anymore." His free hand came up to rub his chin. "Because I want people to know that you are the only one that I want."

"What about your missions with her? She was bragging about you patting her head and tucking her hair." You asked frantically, thinking he might still end up spending time with her.

"I had contacted the captain about this and requested for a change of partners. This time, it will be a HE and no, he is not GAY." He smiled, finger tucked under your chin to pull your face up to meet his lingering gaze. His soft laughter rolling out of his mouth. “Moreover, I never touched her, not even once, she needs to get her head checked out. Whenever she falls during combat, I just stood aside and watch.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cold cheeks, in an attempt to warm them with his lips. “After we reveal our relationship in the office, you don't have to worry anymore, because no matter what happens, I will protect you to the ends of this world."

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

Zayne

Your phone beeped when you were nearly done at work. You read the message, knowing that he has to work late again for tonight, same as yesterday, the day before, and practically 4 days before. But, you cannot blame him for being one of best cardiac surgeons in Linkon City. It should be something you are proud of.

But it does not help when you went to pay him a short visit two days ago, his door does not open even after you had knocked twice on the wooden door. His usual patient, the deepspace hunter, came out of his room, face as red as a tomato. Your eyes followed her as she walked down the hallway and you made your step into your lover's room.

Zayne was near the bed, readjusting his shirt and coat. He did not realise you had walked in until you cleared your throat. "You are here." He said calmly, turning over to face you, his tie a little bit crooked. "I thought you were going to wait for me downstairs."

The deepspace hunter's red face, and him readjusting his shirt, anyone with two sense of mind could easily tell what had just went on in the room. "I just wanted to stop by your office as well." You replied, taking a seat on the couch in his office. "So, what did you do with the girl?"

"You mean the deepspace hunter?" He questioned, taking long strides to close the door. He did not seemed like he was anxious nor scared of your question. Probably a mask to his own guilt, you thought to yourself.

"Yeah, your childhood best friend." You clicked your tongue, arms crossed over your chest. "She seemed flustered when she left your office just now."

"I just conducted a normal check up on her, as usual." He said, dismissing your question easily. He reached his hand out to you, beckoning you to take his hand. "Let's go and get dinner together."

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙

Your hesitation of his loyalty to you was one of the things that kept on bugging your mind, other than your work of course. You looked at the amount of work you have on your desk and started arranging it. Doing whatever you can now to keep your mind busy. What does that deepspace hunter have that you do not have?

A fleeting childhood with Zayne maybe? There have been theories that men would fall for their childhood friends due to the familiarity they have and how comfortable they could get with their childhood buddies. But this theory sucks. You tell yourself and stacked the files neatly and placed them at the shelves behind you.

You are just as capable as Zayne, but just in a different field. You are known to be one of the best lawyers in Linkon City. A highly respected one in fact. When news of you and Zayne went out, people claimed it was meant to be because both of you are aces within your own field and that you are both compatible to one another.

But what if he wanted someone more normal? Someone who would not constantly be under the watchful eye of the common public? The voice came about again. Almost every month, both of you would have your own array of social meets, and both of you making time to acquaint one another to those social events. Every single move, every single action you and Zayne do, it would be booming news. Maybe he is tired of us constantly being under the spotlight.

Mighty or not, you could be the best within your field, but you could also have equally damaging insecurities. This is the exact moment that you start crushing your own walls, walls of confidence that you had taken years to build up, to earn for respect from others. And perhaps, to earn Zayne's love.

<Okay.> You texted back and tossed your phone into your bag. Grabbing your car keys on your way out of your office. You locked your room on the way out and you were shocked to see some of your interns are still working in their cubicles. "Guys, I think you should all take a rest. How about we head to the coffee shop downstairs to have a drink hmm?"

Your interns' eyes lit up at your offer and they quickly gathered their stuffs before following you out of the office like a bunch of ducklings. On the elevator ride, you asked them of their work progresses and whether they needed any additional help with their current tasks. Your interns however, were more than surprised that you are willing to communicate with them.

Their first take on your image is that you are professional and strict. A woman of high standards and it was a common theme for people to link your working attitude to you being arrogant and ignorant. You had never once fell back on any datelines and your clients always leave your room satisfied, regardless of the outcome of the court case. You are on a whole other league as compared to anyone else within your department.

All of you decided to choose the seat outside because of the cooling night wind. It serves to refresh everyone, to step out of the tight cubicles for a bit and having to stretch comfortably. You sat next to two of the female interns, with them asking you about brands that you could recommend them to buy formal outfits. It was nice to see how fast the interns had opened up to you once they found out that you are not as scary as what was portrayed by others.

Your eyes caught sight of a black car pulling up just a few shops down the street. Not many people within the city owns that car, especially the black version. And one of those 'lucky few' happens to be your boyfriend as well. Your eyes slightly widened when you noticed the familiar figure coming out of the car.

His hair the colour of his full outfit, with a lanky but muscular build. The man standing next to the limited edition car is no doubt your boyfriend, Zayne. The sounds of your interns talking around you had turned into a constant white noise. Your eyes watched carefully, thank goodness the spot he had parked at was right below a street lamp.

The passenger side of the door opened, and out came the same girl. The one that you had suspicions about. At that exact moment, you felt your walls started breaking. Your eyes continued watching, your heart strapped in the back seat, limbs unable to move when you sat there in shock. The girl went up and gave Zayne a hug, you can tell that it was a tight hug, based on the way she literally planted her face into Zayne's torso. The sight of it made your heart crumbled and you stood up, your chair creaking against the cement pathway. Your interns stopped abruptly and turned to look at you in sync.

Clearing your throat, you held back tears as you spoke. "I remembered I have something to tend to, I have to get going." You bid them goodnight and you turned immediately, car keys dug out of your bag and you rushed to get into your car before you drove off quickly.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙

The clock at your bedside table flashed 9.55pm. It was a good idea to head off to bed earlier than usual. Although Zayne said that he would call you at 10pm, you had made your decision not to pick up. Telling him that you were too exhausted and fell asleep sounded like a viable excuse.

You closed your eyes and lulled yourself to sleep, used to the other side of your bed being empty for the past few nights. After a while, you heard your room door opened, the slither of light from the living room seeping in.

Zayne was home early. You assumed he would have went back to the hospital after dropping her off. Your back was facing him so he would not be able to tell that you were upset. But your plan was short lived when his shadow loomed over you.

"Y/N." His voice soft, and you heard a thud, the warmth of a hand on your face. "My love." He called for you again, running his big palms across your cheeks, him noticing that there were some tear streaks. "Are you awake?"

Your eyes then opened, and you are face-to-face with your handsome boyfriend, his hazel green orbs fixated on your face. "I thought you were at work." You slowly sat up, rubbing your eyes and feigning a yawn, as if you had just woken up. Your heart felt heavy, and before you could stop yourself, your mouth blurted out. "Am I not good enough?"

Zayne was clearly taken aback, turning on the switch to the lamp on your nightstand, the soft glow of the light bouncing off of your silhouette, your white satin night dress a sheen of orange. "Why would you think so?" His hand comes up, touching your arm but you flinched away. "Y/N, what's going on?"

"You know what, it's nothing." Your hands came up to hide your face from him, desperately trying to hold back your tears. Zayne has never seen you cry many times, only when you were drunk and watching some sad rom-coms or when work gets too stressful and you were pushed too hard. Yes, a strong woman like you have her own small, vulnerable moments too. And Zayne, acknowledges all of it. To him, he never treats your crying moments as to be small matters. When you cry, it is a natural human emotion yes, but it is not normal within your books, for you to cry over something miniscule.

"Y/n, you are sad. And being sad is---" He stopped himself before he continued spitting out medical facts. Knowing at this moment if he were to do that, he would not be doing her a favour in consoling her. "You had always been strong in my eyes. So, what is going on through your head? Do you want to tell me about it?"

"Is the deepspace hunter better than me?" You sniffled, face still covered, your voice slightly muffled. "I saw you...today...with her...near my office...you hugged her." You choked out your words, accompanied with tears and snot. This will mark one of the first times Zayne would witness you cry like an adult baby. But you could care less as you anticipate for the heart break.

"No." He replied. "I did not hug her back. She hugged me and I pulled away after 2 seconds. She was thanking me for saving her life. And she will no longer need to come for checkups again in the future." He clarified and sat on the bed beside her and he slowly peeled her hands away from her face. "I fetched her back, because she had had her surgery a day ago, and she could not get a cab on time during her discharge timing. So I offered a ride for her, and thought maybe I could surprise you at your office. But your interns told me you left in a hurry so I came home."

"What about your surgery that was scheduled for tonight?" You asked.

"I cancelled them and rescheduled them to tomorrow. I just wanted to come home and spend time with you." He placed a kiss onto your forehead, calming your sobs. "You don't look happy for the past few days. Perhaps you want to enlighten me on anything else I had done that could have made you so upset?"

"What about that day, when she left your office, did you guys do something? She looked embarassed, and when I came in, you were adjusting your clothings. And the way you just dismissed me, it hurts me." Your eyes looked exhausted to him, with you patiently waiting for him to explain the situation to you.

Zayne took a few seconds to recall. "I was doing last minute checkups for her, before her surgery. But when she tried to stand, she nearly fell and she grabbed onto my tie for support but still ended up on the floor, which explains why I had to readjust my clothing. She was probably embarrassed at the situation, which explains the red face." He added on. "Her condition got worse after our dinner, that was why I had to rush back to do the surgery immediately."

His explanation gave you nothing but a rush of relief through your heart. "I see." You said, wiping your tears and Zayne took the opportunity to pull you into his arms, seated on his lap and your chest against his. "I am sorry for being so ridiculous."

"I don't see any issues with that. You care for me, that is why you feel this way. And with you crying over this, it means it matters a lot to you." He hugged you and you relaxed in his arms. "I don't blame you for getting upset over this as it is equally my fault for making you doubt my loyalty. But I treat that deepspace hunter just like how I would treat every other patient of mine." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his lips soft and tender. "Just know that even when I am very busy, I will always make time for you."

✧○ꊞ○ꊞ○ꊞ○✧

I KNOW I LIED AGAIN, MY MIND JUST STARTED BEING IN OVERDRIVE BECAUSE CREATIVITY WAS FLOWING SO I WROTE IT LONGER AND LONGER AND ENDED UP WITH THIS. I AM SORRY!

But hope this read is just as good as the others!

Lots of Love! <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #lnds

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dragonbarbie · 7 months ago

Text

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 1

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up.

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse.

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

next part

A/N: i'm so excited to share my first full fic! this series is very very lowkey inspired by one day and highkey inspired by peter by taylor swift. comment if you'd like to be on the taglist for this! hope you guys like it :)

divider credit @ cafekitsune!

Age 10

“I still don't see why we had to move here." a sullen, 10 year old Y/N replied, pouting as she stared out the window from the backseat. her father couldn't help an amused smile at the little girl as he drove towards her new school. "i told you darling, daddy’s got a very important new job here in king’s landing." "yes but why did I have to move here." the older man let out a patient sigh. this had been going on weeks leading to their move. "you haven't even given the city a chance yet, kiddo. why do you hate it already?" "because..." the little girl started with an exasperated whine. ".... i don't have any friends here!" "you have me." her father offered with an assuring grin. the unamused look he got in return was not grateful in the least. "you're dad. i want friends." the seriousness with which Y/N declared her dilemma earned her a laugh from the front seat.

her father pulled into the curb by the grand iron gates of Red Keep Academy, the best private school in the city. as Y/N hopped out the backseat, looking deflated, he lowered the car window, "hey c'mon now, you can't start your first day all sad. who knows, maybe you'll come back with a hoard of friends, even more than you had back home." Y/N only looked ahead at him, unconvinced. "bye, dad."

as she made her way towards the main archway to the school, she thought of all the things she was missing about home. not the new townhouse they had in the city, her real home, back in the reach. she thought of the swing behind her house, the smell from the bakery next door, the big oak tree she saw on the way to school every morning, the fountain in the park – when suddenly someone ran past her, fast enough to knock her down.

"ouch!" she cried out from the floor, rubbing her shoulder where she had been hit. "aegon!" a woman suddenly rushed to her side, glowering at the little boy who had pushed past her. "are you okay, honey? were you hurt?" the first thing Y/N noticed was how kind the woman looked with her big brown eyes, and so very pretty. "i'm okay." she reassured in a small voice, before turning to give this 'Aegon', the dirtiest look she could muster.

the boy had to be her age, pale blonde hair that looked like someone had tried to comb it but had not been given enough time to finish the job. he wore a matching school uniform to Y/N, navy blue blazer, white shirt and dark green pants. his shirt though was untucked and seemed to already have mud stains.

she thought he seemed mostly unbothered by his own actions, but stood there attempting to look sheepish nonetheless for his mother.

"apologise to this young lady." his mother demanded. "sorry..." he mumbled almost incomprehensibly. already upset and now physically hurt, Y/N wordlessly got up and hurried away, trying to stop hot tears from spilling out.

as she walked away she heard the boy's mother scold him, "that was not an apology, Aegon. go say sorry, properly this time." she heard a childish groan in response, "do I have to?". his mother must have given him one hell of a look, Y/N thought because she heard her say nothing else but small footsteps came jogging up to her.

as the blonde boy walked next to her, she waited for him to say something while she kept walking ahead, but he seemed to just wordlessly fall in stride with her. After a minute he suddenly asked, “do you even know where you’re going?”

now that he mentioned it, she didn’t.

she suddenly stopped and looked around herself, confused. He stopped with her and studied her for a second. “I don’t know you.” He observed. “are you new?”. She decided to stay silent, hoping he would go away if she ignored him but she was wrong. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “you’re going in the wrong direction, new girl. That way –” he pointed to where she had been headed “—is the middle school building. Primary school is this way.” He started walking down a hallway, and Y/N took hurried steps to follow him.

He gave her a sideway glance, “what grade are you in anyway? Third?” he smugly asked, proudly looking down at her as a mature fifth-grader. “fifth.” She snapped at him. “oh”, he responded, surprised. “who’s class?” “Miss Reyne.” “no kidding!” he gave her a toothy grin. “so am I.”

Y/N didn’t like this Aegon, she decided. As he kept chatting away about how boring Miss Reyne was, she gave him no replies and generally walked as if she were alone and had no association with the silver haired boy beside her. As they settled into class, she was determined to avoid him for the rest of her day. Aegon though, was determined for quiet the opposite.

He took a seat next to hers, kept making comments, providing her a running, private commentary about each teacher and student. He wasn’t affected by Y/N’s lack of a response, or if he was, he didn’t let it show. Y/N had to admit though, he was funny. she couldn’t help but crack a smile when he told her about the time Jason Lannister got gum stuck in his hair, and had to suppress a giggle when Aegon impersonated Mr. Bolton falling asleep mid-way through teaching a class. At these small instances of Y/N’s guard breaking, he flashed her a bright smile, pleased with himself.

Y/N though, didn’t utter a word to him. Until Art class that was.

They had been asked to paint an animal, and when Y/N looked up from the goldfish she had been painting, she saw Aegon’s work. “a dragon isn’t a real animal.” She disproved. The boy merely shrugged, “that’s not an animal either, it’s a fish.”

“a fish is an animal.” She frowned at her work. “it’s just an animal under water.”

“oh well, let’s add some of its natural habitat then.” He smirked, grabbing the bowl of water they’d been sharing to clean their brushes. “NO! stop!” in an attempt to block him from pouring water on her work, the brush in her hand smeared some of the yellow paint on his face.

He froze in his action immediately, bringing up his fingers to feel the paint streak running down from his brow to across his nose. This time Y/N couldn’t suppress her laughter at the sight, his blinking expression making it all the more funnier. “well, if that’s how you want to do this!” he declared as he scooped some of the red paint on his two fingers before smearing it on her cheek.

Within five minutes, their respective art works had been abandoned and both sets of uniform utterly ruined. The two had to be separated by their teacher, then ordered to walk down to the washrooms and clean themselves right up.

The second she left the girls washroom though, Y/N found the silver haired boy waiting for her by the door, some green paint still visibly stuck in his pale locks. “race you to class?” he mischievously suggested. “Hmm” Y/N pretended to think about the challenge for a second, before saying “okay” and dashing towards their class.

With a self-satisfied smile at having beaten Aegon, she took her seat. Sulking at his defeat, Aegon slinked back in his chair, “you cheated, didn’t wait for the ‘go’…”

“win’s a win.” Y/N declared, grabbing golden glitter for her fish.

He didn’t stay grumpy for long though, before she knew it he was back to his talkative self, this time with Y/N chiming in with her own comments. The hours flew by with Aegon by her side, and as the day came to an end Y/N realised she’d enjoyed herself after all.

As they walked towards the school gate to leave, Aegon suddenly changed the topic. “you like video games?” “yeah…?” she hesitantly replied. “great, you’re coming over tomorrow to play some.” He beamed. At the end of the sentence Y/N observed he hadn’t actually asked her a question. “okay.” She found herself agreeing.

“cool, see you tomorrow.” Aegon had started running in the direction of one of the cars, when he suddenly stopped and turned around. “never asked your name.” he sheepishly realised.

“Y/N!” she distractedly answered as she sped up, having found her mom’s car in the parking lot.

“Y/N…” Aegon muttered to himself as he walked away, liking the way the name rolled of his tongue.

Age 15

“You’re late.” Y/N didn’t even bother to look up when she heard the window to her bedroom open, but did glance at the subsequent sound of someone falling face first onto her carpet. “have you been drinking? Its 2pm.”

Down on the ground laid her best friend of five years, with his messy platinum hair and stick-thin lanky limbs, carrying in the distinct smell of smoke when he entered her room. Though they were the same age, aegon looked more boyish still even as he had started to race towards every vice of the adult world he could get his hands on.

Aegon merely rubbed his now injured nose, as he lifted his head off the ground. “No I haven’t been drinking… still drunk from last night. Big difference.” Y/N sighed and shook her head in vexation before returning to her homework. Aegon had recently taken up drinking and despite Y/N’s repeated rebukes, he seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much to stop. He continued to wave off her concern and she was starting to tire of voicing it.

“Let’s say I believed you… you wanna tell me what made you so late, then? I do have other things to do with my day than wait around to teach you biology, y’know.” Aegon grabbed a chair and dragged it to sit next to her at her desk. “I was actually busy being taught biology as it happens… albeit of a different kind.” His smug, self-satisfied grin as he pulled a cigarette from his front pocket and placed it between his teeth, told Y/N all she needed to know. “Elinda Massey was the most enthusiastic of teachers.” Y/N couldn’t help but grit her teeth at the mention of Aegon’s latest distraction.

With a swift motion she grabbed the cigarette and threw it in the bin, ignoring his protests. “you know you’re not allowed to smoke in here, my parents would kill me if they smelled it.” Aegon snorted at the statement, “yeah but, that’s never stopped me before.” The casualness with which Aegon dismissed her, pinched Y/N. It was certainly true that Y/N usually found it hard to say no to Aegon, no matter how the consequences might harm her; but she didn’t like how he took the same for granted, as if it was a given.

“What’s got you all prissy today?”

“you. You wanna pass biology this year or not?” Y/N replied, visibly irritated. “yeah like there’s a chance in hell they’ll actually fail me. Grandfather would have the place shut within the week.” “then why do you even need a tutor? Go off with Elinda or whoever.” Y/N huffed, her eyes remaining trained so hard on her textbook that she was half certain she was going to burn holes into it, her hand clutching around the pencil in her hand.

“Elinda? That’s what you’re so annoyed about?” aegon snickered. Y/N turned to now glare directly into his blue eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks and her nostrils flaring. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to push aegon right out the window he came from so she could be alone instead of having to deal with this. “No, I just think you’re wasting your time here right now, when you could be doing…. Biology with Elinda instead.” Aegon brow furrowed at her reaction, but instead of another retort his hand reached out to gently grab her arm. “hey…” his features softened from their usual impish nature to highlight his concern “…what’s actually up with you?” in the face of such kindliness from him, she couldn’t muster any more scathing replies.

He’d seen right through her, like only he could. For weeks now she’d been stressed, but found the topic too awkward to discuss with Aegon. But she knew she’d have to open up to him sooner or later about her problem. Keeping secrets from Aegon was simply not something she did. Or even possibly could if she tried, she thought.

“promise you won’t laugh.” She first demanded in a nervous tone. Raising his three fingers, her best friend solemnly confirmed, “scouts honour.” She swallowed, her eyes looking beyond Aegon’s shoulder rather than at him as she slowly admitted. “I’ve not had my first kiss.”

Aegon merely blinked back at her, “what, is there supposed to be more to that or…?” “I’ve not had my first kiss.” She repeated as if those words were supposed to be self-explanatory. “yeah and I’ve never been to the Summer Isles, what’re you on about?” Y/N couldn’t help a groan as she momentarily hid her face behind her hands, thinking the more she would explain herself the more embarrassed she would get.

“It’s just, I’m 15, and I should have had it by now, I’ve never even been on a date.. and… and… and you’ve got Elinda and Maria before that, and Jeyne and, and…. I just can’t believe you’ve gone to third base before I’ve even had my first kiss!” her words came out rushed in the end, out of frustration and a need to just get the shameful confession over with.

She had expected Aegon to laugh it off, or worse, agree that her situation was absolutely the height of shame. Instead, he looked confused that such a thing was bothering her in the first place “what, that’s it? why didn’t you just say so before?”

nonchalantly, aegon put an arm behind Y/N’s chair. Eyes closed, he suddenly leaned in towards her, lips puckered, causing her eyes to go wide. “what the –” as a reflex response she pushed back at his shoulders, making him fall of the chair.

“the fuck was that for!” he shouted from the floor, his ego and back bruised. “why did you try to kiss me?” Y/N was shocked, horrified even, at the prospect. Aegon was her best friend, she couldn’t even imagine looking at him in that light. it was Aegon, he was simply too familiar for her.

Aegon raised his hands out as if the answer was obvious. “you said it yourself you wanted to have your first kiss!”. Y/N’s nose scrunched up, “not with you!”.

“well how was I supposed to get that! Fuck me, I’ll never understand you women”

“‘you women?’” at that, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. This scene before her, this response by her best friend was too ridiculous. Yet, she noted as she offered a hand to help him back up which he grumblingly took, this was very much in character for Aegon. She knew he always wanted to help her, he might not have always understood how to go about it, but his heart was in the right place.

“I don’t need you to fix it, aegon.” She affably told him, a faint grateful smile on her face for her friend’s valiant effort nonetheless. “yeah, no-shit, because there’s nothing to fix. You’re not broken, Y/N.” Y/N didn’t know that she needed to hear those words until Aegon said it and it felt as if a burden was lifted off her shoulders.

“Don’t get me wrong. Doing all this, the kissing and the more-than-kissing, it’s fun. Honestly it’s so, so much fun, like I can’t even—” “you wanna get to your point?” “–so it’s great and all but, not doing it doesn’t mean you’re any less for it. You’re still Y/N, you’ll always still be Y/N to me.”

The anxiety she had been feeling, the fear of being left behind and the worry about other’s judgement, even her own – it all started to look so small and insignificant when Aegon told her she was still the same to him. This was her only constant in life, this bond between her and Aegon, the one person she couldn’t hide who she was from. In that moment, she felt glad to have him by her side.

“Besides if you were ever truly that desperate, you could always just try Jace. he’s had a thing for you like forever” Aegon revealed, rolling his eyes in apparent annoyance of the fact. Y/N though, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Jace… has a thing for me?” The thought of it seemed to please her, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as a red blush started to creep onto her cheeks once more.

Aegon looked disgusted at her response, and grimaced, “yeah okay, no need to flatter yourself too much …. It’s Jace.” He stuck his tongue out at the distaste of the thought of his best friend with his nephew. Y/N didn’t pay him any attention, having taken to doodling hearts in the margins of her notebook while engrossed in thought. Aegon immediately regretted having said anything, snatching the notebook from under her hand, “alright are we going to do some biology or what?”

Age 17

Y/N had been fast asleep when the familiar sound of pebbles against her window awoke her. she looked at the time on the watch as it read 2:17 am, quickly rising from her bed. there was only one person who had to be out there, and she knew why too. her heart sank, knowing already that aegon must have had another fight with his father. she opened the window and as expected, aegon targaryen precariously balanced his steps on the tree branch just outside.

"aegon, what are you doing? It's late," she whispered-shouted, trying not to wake her parents but already held out a hand to help him in. "Needed to see you," he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. She wanted to chide him for endangering himself by climbing up so high when he’d drunk so much, but looking at his condition she decided to stay quiet. He climbed into her room, stumbling slightly as he landed. Y/N caught his arm, steadying him. "You've been drinking again," she said, more as a statement than a question.

aegon’s normally sparkling blue eyes were unfocused, his silver hair dishevelled. He'd grown taller of late, she missed the days when she could stand shoulder to shoulder with him. she now had to look up at him, as she put one of his arms around her shoulder to guide him towards the bed as his own steps fumbled.

“He doesn’t get it, Y/N. None of them do. To him, nothing i've done or will do matters for shit. i'm just not the son he wanted. he regrets me, i can see it in his eyes, I—” a sob escaped his throat, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She gently sat him down on the edge of her bed, his weight pressing down on the soft mattress. As she looked into his sad, bloodshot eyes, she harboured such hatred for Viserys as she thought impossible for anyone else to hold. she kneeled down in front of him, her heart breaking to see him so.

"I know, i know. But you can’t keep doing this, aegon. If you keep drinking like this, you could seriously hurt yourself one of these days." and she didn't think she could survive that.

she reached out to hold his hands in her own. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you. Always." if aegon heard her, he gave no indication, instead staring at their intertwined hands.

"can I crash here tonight?" he suddenly asked, looking more innocent than she'd ever seen him as he lifted his eyes to look up at her. Gone was the bravado and arrogance that was usual of him, even expected. In that moment he looked more lost than ever, and was looking to her as if she was his only hope for shelter.

she knew her parents wouldn't be thrilled about this impromptu sleepover, but then again she'd never had the ability to deny him anything. "of course," she tenderly smiled.

he kicked off his shoes and moved back up the bed, still holding onto her hand, pulling her with him. he lied down on her pillow, refusing to let go of her hand as he closed his eyes to fall asleep. he looked so peaceful, Y/N couldn’t help but reach out her free hand to run it through his hair in admiration. She wasn’t blind, she knew how handsome he looked, causing the girls to flock to him like moths to a flame. But his looks were just an objective fact to her, she never found herself attracted to him in the same way as the girl at school. But somehow in the pale moonlight, he looked more beautiful than she’d ever seen him, and it caused her chest to swell overwhelmingly.

she looked down to notice he'd opened his eyes again. "Don't leave," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"I won't" she promised, pulling the blanket over them both. he nodded in satisfaction of her reply, nestling against the crook of her neck, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Sleep evaded Y/N though, on the one hand she was wracked with worry over Aegon and his drinking habits, on the other.... she could feel his breath tickling her neck, as his one hand held her own while his other wrapped around her waist, his feet entangled with hers. his body pressed to her own under the covers, making the cramped space on her single bed too hot. Aegon had never been this physically close to her, this vulnerable. she thought how his safe space, the place he ran to when he wanted an escape was her, same as he was for her. it had always been this way, yet, in the darkness of the night she sensed something had shifted between them. she couldn't name it yet, though.

The next morning, when the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, aegon stirred. He blinked, confusion clouding his eyes at his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the familiar face inches from his own "Y/N?" Y/N merely hummed in response, only now starting to stir awake. "what... how did i get here?" he asked looking around the room, startled. He lifted his head as he realised he was all but laid out on top of her, before moving away to lay on his back. He looked down to find his hand had cramped from holding onto hers all night, immediately releasing it. Y/N rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she responded, "what d'you mean?"

"i mean what am i doing in your bed at the crack of dawn." aegon looked earnestly confused, Y/N realised, which worried her. "You came here last night," she slowly replied, watching his face carefully. "You were drunk. Do you remember?"

aegon frowned, rubbing his temples. "No... I don't." he suddenly looked at Y/N, "Did I do something... did we...?" he motioned to the space between them, his brow raised. Y/N sat up from her bed in alarm, "oh, no, nothing. of course not." she reassured him. she tried not to look too wounded at his relieved expression "good, good." he nodded, staring up at the ceiling.

"you had a fight with your dad and wanted to crash here. do you not remember coming up here last night?" "I don't remember anything really. last thing I do remember is opening one of the bottles from the wine cellar and then" he shrugged. Y/N frowned at his response, "Aegon, have you started blacking out?” her stomach tied itself in knots, feeling anxiety over this new development. But she felt as if she was the only one who understood the gravity of the situation.

she searched for any fear in aegon’s eyes, but only found apathy and disinterest. he seemed unconcerned, merely rolling onto his side and closing his eyes, lazily stretching himself out to get comfortable to fall back asleep.

“do you understand what that means? it means this is getting dangerous. This is no longer all for a good time, Egg.” She attempted again, this time raising her voice to catch his attention. It seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"wake me up for lunch, yeah?" he yawned, drifting back to slumber within minutes.

A wave of anger washed over her, she wanted to knock him off her bed or hit him with a pillow in frustration over his own self-destructive ways. Did he not understand the ending he was currently headed towards? Did he not care how this going to affect him, affect her? She was tired of being the only safety harness keeping him held back when all he seemed to want to do was jump into the abyss.

“fucking… suit yourself.” She stormed off the bed to head out of her room, shutting the door behind her loudly.

#aegon targaryen imagine #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #hotd imagine #house of the dragon fanfiction #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon targaryen x you #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #fics i wrote #modern!aegon x reader #modern!aegon targaryen

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aethelwyneleigh27 · 1 year ago

Text

TF141 Scenarios and Headcanons

(Them interacting with the mini and pink version of Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley) Inspired by my previous post

Credits to @puff0o0 for this wonderful art that I requested and all the other art that's used in this post, she delivered and slayed. I genuinely love your art style because the textures looks like crayons were used and it's just so cute, thanks so much Puff <3

Pairings:

Ghost x Wife!Reader

Justice for Soap? Poor guy has been a victim in this entire set of scenarios.

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

❥ Simon bringing mini Ghostie for her to interact with the Taskforce again. Safe to say Soap got hit at the back of his head for even trying to make fun of the pink carrier (that you, his loving wife bought for the baby), while the little one was fidgeting with the red bow that decorated the front of the strap carrier.

❥ Ghostie didn't earn the nickname till the second time Simon brought her with him bringing the mask along and she proudly wore it. They actually went through the effort of getting her a tailored camo print uniform with a little patch embroidered with the words "youngest recruit" and "Riley" embroidered on the back of the shirt.

❥ Mini Ghostie keeping herself busy with the crayons and papers provided by uncle Gaz, drawing herself, her dad and the other Taskforce members then proudly showing it off to them after they're done being busy. (It earned a spot on the base's fridge, Price bought a magnet for that purpose alone because it was held up by tape for the longest time)

❥ A little visual for you guys provided by my favorite and beloved mutual @puff0o0:

❥ Ghostie and Gaz exchange drawings on a basis, more oftentimes it's funny faces that Soap makes. Soap saw them..

"I DINNAE LOOK LIKE THAT"

*Gaz raising a brow at him while Ghostie was giggling at Soap raising his voice*

❥ And yes, Gaz was responsible for the shrekified version of Soap that was on the fridge.

❥ Soap tried to draw something as an insult towards Gaz but it backfired and little Ghostie ended up loving it and taking it home to display it on the wall of her room:

❥ Gaz tends to be pursuaded by every little pout Ghostie gives him, probably the reason behind him being her favorite uncle. Ghostie made a drawing of Gaz once with an outlined heart around the picture, he now has it framed on his desk.

❥ Safe to say that Ghostie was amused by Soap getting hurt in any way possible, at first it started with her dad playfully punching the sergeant that made her giggle but then it slowly started to turn into her taking matters into her own hands and actually hitting uncle Soap herself. (Poor Soap)

❥ Little one constantly either slaps Soap or pulls on his mohawk. Yeah Ghost probably taught her that, she loves seeing her dad amused and giggles when she makes her dad chuckle. (Cue annoyed Soap noises)

❥ Uncle Gaz calls her "Boo" sometimes because he thought it was fitting and yes he took it from that one animated movie character, more likely sets his phone up and let's her use it to watch Disney movies because he's the only one who has Disney plus. (Frozen and Mulan were playing non-stop and now they all know the song "I'll make a man out of you" word for word)

❥ The idiots encouraged little Ghostie to chug a bottle full of milk as if she was chugging beer while cheering her on, Simon sipped on his whiskey not knowing he'd regret it later on, they all had to deal with a massive spit up because they made her drink too much and too quickly. (Soap had to wash that shirt 3 times before the smell of milk became more faint)

❥ Little Ghostie calls Price her grandpa and nobody's correcting her even if she genuinely thinks that Price is her dad's father. Price was definitely the one who had a uniform tailored for her but it was Gaz's idea.

❥ Believe it or not, Little Ghostie is loved by almost all of the recruits. Lieutenant Riley has a DAUGHTER?! He has a wife..? Yeah that was their first reaction. But ultimately they loved her because Little Ghostie was a sweet bundle of joy who loves giving flowers to female recruits and uncle Gaz.

❥ Despite all the bullying uncle Soap has been through, he still loves that kid to death and couldn't be more prouder when L.T. Riley and his wife chose him, Roach and Gaz to be godfathers.

❥ Speaking of uncle Roach, him and Ghostie get along really well. Even though there's not much of a verbal conversation going on, they still manage to cause chaos together. She likes to fidget with the makeshift antennas that come with the helmet of his tactical gear.

❥ Nobody can stand it when she's crying, she's not even loud, she's almost so quiet when she cries but gosh is it heart breaking. Especially for Gaz, Ghostie's teary puppy eyes looking up at him while her arms are in the air. "Uppies uncle, please" she hiccups.

❥ Gaz is the one always carrying her around, if everyone's being honest then I don't think she was ever down on her feet at some point unless she was playing around with the recruits.

❥ If Simon was being honest, he enjoyed the sound of Ghostie's feet thumping around base.

❥ Ghostie loves handfeeding her dad, she does it all the time. Technically she still has a difficult time using utensils so hands would do for now.

❥ Roach gave the little thing a sip of his coffee and she was practically bouncing off the walls. Yeah that wasn't a very bright idea.

❥ She was a late teether, Soap was the victim. Not only was she caught chewing on the strap of his tactical gear, Ghostie actually bit him with her baby teeth that were only halfway out when he tried to swat her away.

❥ Uncle Gaz and grandpa Price taking out the little one for ice cream so her need for sugar is satisfied and to cool her gums off.

❥ Ghostie's uncles taking her to the park/playground. (Gaz was the one recording)

❥ Soap got in trouble for teaching mini Ghostie how to curse, you weren't too happy about that because now your daughter is saying "bitch" endlessly in the wrong context.

A/n: I hope you guys liked it, I put a lot of effort into this and the last post. Please check out Puff's account if you don't know her yet, I promise she is the sweetest person and her CoD content is a big hit.

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