#WHY DO MOST PEOPLE SEEM TO NOT CARE!!!!!!!!!!

[chocolatemoneyrascalparty]

"Charlie is the most annoying person on planet earth and driving his boyfriend into depression and yet feeling no regret". Charlie is sick. Of course everyone around him gets affected. He needs help and support and love and he makes bad decisions and what I've read/seen in heartstopper he isn't aware about how Nick is feeling. They don't exactly talk about it. Charlie needs support and I can absolutely agree with you that Charlie is the reason why Nick feels how he does, because it's exhausting to care for a sick person. Especially for a 16/17 year old. But also because Nick thinks he is responsible for Charlie's wellbeing (which he isn't and which his mother made clear in book 3, though Nick struggles to let go of those thoughts and to let actual adults take care of Charlie. Which is fair because Nick cares *a lot* about him).

"Tori is played by an actor 10 years older than the her Canon age". This has been done before. There are multiple movies where an adult plays a teenager (derry girls, for example). And sure, while it isn't ideal and it is a little weird, Tori's actor is super good at acting so why bother caring? While we're at it, we could also discuss why every single one of the Paris Squad is also played by an actor atleast 4-5 years older than their canon age, but again why does it matter?

"You have a group of friends who never seem to study but also has amazing grades". It's a story. Who would watch a serie/read a book where the main characters does homework all the time? And they do homework from time to time (Nick and Charlie bonding over math, Nick doing his homework on the way to class in one of the first episodes of s1, Tori writing a text about pride and prejudice in solitaire). Homework is still a part of their lives. We just don't see the characters do it that much bc that would be boring.

We can argue a very long time whether Heartstopper is realistic or not, but in the end it's a story that needs a plot. And while the plot might be a little cringe and a little overrated and a little "black cat, golden retriever"- types of gay relationships, we need those stories too.

Also, while it isn't a perfect queer representation, it's atleast queer representation. Yeah, we shouldn't be satisfied with that BUT it's made by a queer woman for queer ppl and it got canon queer characters which is more than most stories. I'd rather take queer rep by queer people than queer rep by cishet people.

(I can talk about the way queer media keeps getting created by straight ppl in a fun little "omg look they kiss and they gay and one is the bottom and very sensitive" for long time but that's for another time)

the whole “heartstopper isn’t realistic” argument is so stupid to me because everyone who says that has clearly not been able to understand the show/comics correctly. you have charlie literally fainting because he’s not eating enough, you have nick doubting himself because he doesn’t know how to help one of the people he cares the most about, you have elle experiencing identity issues surrounding her current life and friendships, you have tara having self esteem issues because her girlfriend is kind of giving her the silent treatment, you have darcy hiding from her friends the literal hell she’s going through in her house, you have isaac experiencing his sexuality awakening alone because he feels he can’t trust his friends, you have imogen literally going through another sexuality awakening after being heartbroken two times, and finally, you have tori literally at the brink of tears in every scene because of depression. heartstopper IS realistic. you are just too obsessed with drugs and over sexualisation of teenagers. grow up.

[luveline]

hi again!! i saw you mention wanting to write for prince!steve, and i also saw that you write with dialogue prompts so i present to you:

A: “I’ll take care of you.”

B: “It’s rotten work.”

A: “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

maybe the reader gets injured doing something for training, but it’s all up to you!! i’m sure we’ll love it regardless. kisses!!

thank you for requesting! —prince steve au. fem, 1.5k

Pain was familiar before you came to the palace. Small pains and big, all kinds of hurting, poverty-driven neglect leading to toothaches and back pain, twisted ankles walked on without choice, sore skin otherwise ignored. It didn’t matter if you got hurt as long as you lived. 

Not in a dramatic sense. It didn’t feel dramatic at the time, only miserable. You go to work with a migraine because you can’t afford not to. You walk home in the dark because the mag-trams are getting too expensive. You break your holo, so you make do without one. You pick your head up to keep looking both ways and you get everywhere you need to go because you need to work, to get paid, to eat, to work. 

That’s how it always was. So getting sick didn’t matter. An injury was temporary pain that your body would fix eventually, and if it didn’t, well, it’s cheaper to pull a tooth than pay to have it filled. 

You were used to your sorry life, and then you met Steve. Tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed Steve. Looking at him sometimes is enough to make your whole body a void for things you used to complain about; you wake up across from him in the big bed and forget you can feel pain at all, if only because he’s already awake, waiting for you to open your eyes before he rests his hand on your cheek. You met him and your soul-mark glowed with a lacy, almost feathered light, your wrist braceleted with white colour that soon faded to mellow blue. 

When you first meet your soulmate, the colours you make tend to shift. It takes time for your heart to decide if love is pink or orange or blue. It seems to have settled now —when Steve kisses you, your mark turns a Gaussian amber. When you kiss back, his mark turns light pink, like the lotus flowers he keeps in his private gardens. 

Right now, your mark hums an angry red. It’s typical in its colour, and it’s common. Most people’s marks turn red when they’re hurting. Yours is a crimson so dark it looks black in the dim lighting, and it throbs in time with your pain like a vexing metronome. You’ll never be able to put it from your mind if the mark continues to remind you. 

Steve is uncharacteristically quiet at your side. His own mark is lit in sympathy, mostly pink with his affection, but threaded in red like spider lily flowers blooming against his forearm. 

He shifts beside you. It’s been more than a month since your wedding, and yet he’s careful with you. Almost shy, though he can be brash and cocky. You know intimately how sweet Steve can be when he’s in love. 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

“How’s the pain now?” he asks, his eyebrows pulled together at their starts. 

“Not so bad.” 

“Could you rate it on a scale? If zero was no pain at all, and ten were enough to warrant another dose of white willow bark?” 

“What if I were at a five?” you ask. 

“A half dose and a good kiss?” 

You turn his way but flinch when it puts undue pressure on your leg, a stab of hot pain jumping from your fractured tibia to deep inside of your hips. Steve sees your wincing and presses your shoulder into the bed, leaning over you, a scolding he doesn’t give in the pinch of his eyebrows as he leans down to kiss you. It’s more caress than kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, his lips barely touching yours before he rests his nose at your brow. “Can you stay still?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“Just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” 

He lifts his head. Holds your cheek for longer than you can work out why, dotting another soft kiss to your nose before slinking out of bed to find you some white willow bark tincture. It’s a potent pain reliever. You shouldn’t have too much of it. If you were still living your past life, you’d be chewing on ginger skins trying to limp your way back into work. There’d be no time to stop. 

“Steve,” you say, watching him a small ways away at the table of your quarters. He turns to you. “I don’t really need anything else.” 

“You said it’s hurting?” Steve pipettes the tincture into a cup of water. “You said a five, and you lie. Knowing you, it’s closer to an eight, you just don’t want to tell me.” 

It might not be as extreme as an eight now, laying down and bandaged, but it hurts badly and a tincture would solve this. Still, you say, “It’s fine, I don’t need it.” 

He brings the glass regardless and puts it on the nightstand. Your bed is yards too big for one person, even two, but when Steve sits next to you he leaves no room between you. He looks down at you fondly. Brown hair like down feather falls against his forehead. 

“You’re going to be in pain for a long time.” He brings a hand to your cheek again. “It might sound tame, a plateau fracture, but that’s still a fracture. You know doctors say fracture when they mean broken, right? You broke your leg. It’s okay to want pain relief.” 

“I knew that. I didn’t know you knew it.” 

“Impolite.” He ducks down to look you in the eyes. You’re a little skewiff, straight to his sideways, but it gets a point across. He wants to kiss you while you’ve said something maddening. “I don’t see why you’re so insistent on pretending it hasn’t happened and that you’re fine. You got hurt, and you’ll stay hurt for a while. It might be weeks of bed and– and you need to be looked after. I don’t know why you’re so guilty about it.” 

“I’m not guilty,” you deny guilty, turning your face to lean into his hand, rather than continue to face his imploring gaze. “I just… I’m not used to this. Before, if something went wrong, I couldn’t just lay down and wait to get better, and I surely wouldn’t be laying here with doctors and servants and the ladies in waiting all trying to make sure– It’s like it’s not my fault, and that doesn’t make any sense. I don’t want to be a burden on everyone. More than I already am,” you add, a bitter mumble nearly lost to his palm. 

He makes a promise, then, turning your face to the light. “I’ll take care of you,” he says. 

“It’s rotten work.” 

Steve shakes his head gently. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” 

You press your tongue to your teeth, worried you’ll say something you’ll regret. You don’t want him to go. You want him to mean exactly what he says, to stay here and take care of you, and to enjoy doing it. Wouldn’t it be nice to be loved for love's sake? 

Steve shuffles inward and encourages your head into his lap, thrusting pillows aside to take up station against your headboard. He frames your face, upside down, before both hands begin to run down your arms. A hug, in a way, as he twists his face to kiss the skin beside your eye. You squint at the proximity. 

“You’re not a burden,” he says, hands climbing upwards now, warm and steady where they travel, “you’re my wife. My cherished wife, remember?” 

His tone is silk. 

“You… haven’t proved to be a wretched husband,” you confess. 

“I did try. But loving you has been easy. It makes husbandry a gift.” He laughs at his grandiose and gives you a kiss that’s more familiar by your ear, his pleading, searching kisses, the kind he likes to press to all your softest junctures. “I wish you could understand that we’re marked for a reason. We were always meant to be together, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to stand with me. I’m happy you’re here. I want to take care of you.” 

Not if it’s you, he’d said. 

You wonder if it might be okay to cry. He’s massaging your arms, still bent in half over you trying to kiss some belief in him into your forehead. 

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs between chaste, silent kisses, “really. You don’t have to pretend things don’t hurt you anymore.” 

You feel strange, then, shivery and weak as you turn your face into his thigh. His hand slips behind your back to hold you.

“Can I convince you to drink this tincture now?” he asks, just above your ear. 

“I love you,” you mumble. 

He pauses his trailing hands. You squeeze your eyes closed, but he doesn’t pause for long enough to scare you. “I love you,” he says. “Since the day we met, I’ve loved you. I’ll take care of you.” 

He is easy to believe. 

[transformers-spike]

"Is this why the Autobots are fond of humanity? To indulge their sweet heat cycles? How many human mates has Optimus taken for himself? It seems as though their motives to protect them were never altruistic, much less noble." PLEASE, PLEASE GIVE US A SUB-STORY WHERE THIS TIME IT'S OPTIMUS AND A HUMAN SO IN THEIR HEAT CYCLE PLEASEEEE

Idk am I creating a humans in heat universe for the TF Fandom? I know people like making the bots go through it but I think the humans being affected is so much funnier. Just begging these massive robots to fuck us lmao

How must it feel to burn from the inside out? Betrayed by your own body, rendered unable to function by the fire in your core. You described it as an aching, an insatiable need to appease the hormones overtaking your nerve endings. A mere touch is enough to worsen the ache, it’s what your body dictates in the throes of a heat cycle.

Cybertronians are forged by Primus Himself, their interfaces exist for recreational pleasure and bonding, but your species is biologically programmed to reproduce, like most of the fauna of your planet. It’s a systemic sacrifice, one rendered obsolete by the sentient status of your species. Drugs have been produced to suppress your heats, or at least lessen the effects. Unfortunately, among a dozen varieties of medication, you are either allergic or completely immune to them, leaving you susceptible to your hormonal whims. He is sorry. You must go through so much pain every few months, but you barely show it, brushing off his concerns with a laugh, saying “it is what it is” and moving on as though your body isn’t on a timer. He admires you for it. In spite of your discomfort, you haven’t given up. Once, you told him: “So what if they don’t work on me? I just gotta roll with the punches and hope for the best, it’s been my M.O. since I got the damn thing.” Meeting them for the first time… was turbulent to say the least, but you’re safe and sound, relocated to Jasper, having adjusted to your new life with the help of Agent Fowler. You’ve told them many times you’re infinitely grateful to be in their lives (barring the near death experience at the servos of an Insecticon). For them it’s a pleasure to ease your burden. You’ve eagerly established your consent, although only Arcee is the right size to properly take care of a human. Digits and glossas can only do so much compared to a spike. He tries not to pry, your privacy is yours to divulge at your leisure, but he cannot ignore the charge building up behind his interface when he sees you with the others. Yes, he is an occasional participant, but he will rather cover shifts and allow them some well-deserved respite in your berth. They deserve it. He dares not imagine Arcee’s spike pumping in and out of you, satiating your aching body, filling you to your limit as you beg for more. 

Your scent lingers in the air, caressing his sensors, a gentle hand tugging him along by the servo, pulling him in your direction. They try to keep it to themselves, but his team is beyond a doubt intoxicated by your presence alone. Thankfully, it has (almost) never impeded their judgment during missions; perhaps it has even served as motivation to make it back to base in one piece. He tries to ignore the gleam in his old friend’s optics after quelling your urges, if only for a night. Or Bumblebee's praises coming to you as a slow stream of beeps while he nuzzles your face. Or Bulkhead cradling you to his chassis like a precious artifact as you discuss what late night movies you should watch. Or catching Arcee kissing you over the mezzanine and pulling back with a smile she hasn’t worn since Cliffjumper’s death. You bring them together in your own special way, even if you blush and sheepishly deny it, claiming you should be thanking them instead  Recent discoveries have yielded an impressive increase in energon and brought forth new opportunities. With unparalleled quantities at their disposal, they can now mass displace. The transformation is no small feat, it exhausts their system and rapidly drains their energon level. But he will not forbid Bumblebee from using it to play with the kids as long as it’s not in excess. Nor to join you during heat cycles. Much like Bulkhead. And Wheeljack. And especially Ratchet. Primus forbid, his old friend has every right to enjoy himself to the fullest after all of his back-breaking work. He’s been meaning to pay you a visit, but he hasn’t found the time until now. In the temporary abode you set up in the base, away from the prying eyes of the kids, you prepare yourself for another heat. Some refurbishing was done to meet your needs (in no small thanks to June Darby and agent Fowler’s financial help); the mattress and the mini fridge was a given, but you’ve added a variety of personal belongings and entertainment; a television, a writing desk, a few “bean bags” here and there, and a pile of old magazines to scrapbook. He wonders if you consider this place your home more than your actual house in Jasper. You greet him while downing a bottle of water, holding up your hand to signal for him to wait. Once emptied, you place it next to the mini fridge, among a wide array of bottled water crates. That would explain the groceries June had brought in with Arcee’s help. As a medical professional she’s especially fretful over your condition, doing her best to prevent the risks of heat cycles, bringing you plenty of calorie dense fuel to combat the massive loss of nutrients. He has not forgotten the fear they experienced when they found you shaking from the deficit, having completely overlooked your hunger in a midst of desperation. In this form, he can appreciate the full extent of your body without fear of hurting you, kneading the supple flesh beneath his digits as you giggle and pull him into you. He does not tower over your reclined form as much as he encases you in a careful hug, hearing the rapid thrum of your human spark directly against his audials; he may sense your pulse rate, but experiencing it is a new wonder of its own. You tell him you missed him and you wish he would let himself go and come out to “obliterate your pussy” more often. He nods and apologizes for his absence even as you shush him and insist he enjoy himself as well. He is… the largest Cybertronian you’ve taken, you remark while adjusting to his size.

“Except maybe Wheeljack,” you add cheekily, already bucking into him. Your composure evaporates as he works you up, not to say that he is much better. He steadies himself over you, charge trickling down his interface as your walls clench around him in a vice-grip. You beg him for more, plead that he frag you until you can’t take it anymore, but he has grown used to your requests and knows when your body has reached its limit. You whimper and claw at his back plates, flush against his frame yet dragging him closer as though to merge your human spark to his.

If only he could.

Slow and steady, he frags you through your overloads, each one adding a new surge of spark down his frame until he comes to his end. You are small and shaking, but in this form he can properly hold you against his chassis and comfort you through the afterglow, bringing you another bottle of water and a Clif bar (chosen for the human scaling a mountain with “If you eat this you can kill God” in big bold letters).

You stir and sit up on shaky knees to accept his offerings. Halfway through your meal, you eye him up and down.

“Are you going to stay some more?” you ask with hopefulness, still chewing on the “ultimate nuts and banana power” concoction advertised on the packaging.

“I’m afraid not, Ratchet has been hard at work deciphering Decepticon encryptions, I will be taking on his duties for the night,” he tries to break it gently, expecting crushed expectations, not your bemused expression looking up at him.

“So you’re sending him my way?” You give a chuckle. “Wish we could have spent more time together, but work is work. Just…” you crawl into his lap and hug him as tight as you can, head resting against his chassis. “Please come back tomorrow. Or after tomorrow. I miss seeing you this way. I won’t get between you and… whatever you have going on, but please visit me more often. You have no idea how nice it feels to be around you.” His gaze softens, glowing faintly against your hair. “So I’ve been told,” he says, a smile on his lips. “As long as it lightens your burden.”

[dissapointu]

u have beautiful writing and it’s honestly a talent! you’re so quick with it like hello? may u please do how arcane characters would react to having a partner who likes making handmade gifts instead of buying them? me personally i LOVE making handmade gifts because it seems more beautiful putting in work for my friends and family! honestly you’re my favorite writer on this app I’ll most definitely think about makin u a handmade gift! you’re so cool!

FIRST OFF??? YOU are the coolest person EVER and reading your message made me do a little happy dance in my chair, so thank you for THAT! 🥹 The fact that you’re out here pouring love into handmade gifts for your friends and family?? ICONIC. Handmade gifts are SO slept on, and you’re out here proving they’re the superior love language. If I could, I’d be your hype squad 24/7. (Also, i would ugly cry if you made me a gift Mamas.)

Okay, okay, let’s jump into how the Arcane characters would react to having a partner who loves making handmade gifts because spoiler: they’re all gonna be absolutely obsessed with you. Let’s GO.

———————————————————————-

Jinx

Jinx would LOSE HER MIND every single time you gave her a gift. She’s such a sucker for anything you pour your heart into.

• “Wait, wait—YOU made this? For ME?” She’s staring at it with huge eyes like you just handed her a treasure map.

• She’d keep EVERYTHING you give her, no matter what it is. You could hand her a crocheted pigeon and she’d be like, “This is the best thing anyone’s ever given me.”

• She’d totally try to make something for you in return, but it’d be chaotic as hell. Like, you’d get a DIY flamethrower or something held together with duct tape and glitter.

Basically, she’s your number one fan and would brag about you constantly.

Vi

Vi is playing it cool, but deep down, she’s melting into a puddle of feelings. She’d get all quiet when you give her something and just kinda… stare at it like she can’t believe someone would put in that much effort for her.

• If you made her something wearable, like a bracelet or beanie? That thing is NEVER coming off.

• She’s not much for words, but she’d pull you into a tight hug and just whisper, “Thanks. I mean it.”

• Also, if anyone dares to make fun of your gifts, she’s throwing hands. (“What’d you say about my partner’s hand-painted mug? Yeah, that’s what I thought.”)

Sevika

Sevika would be SO caught off guard when you hand her a gift. She’s not used to people doing thoughtful stuff for her, so she’s just… staring at you, holding your gift like it’s a foreign object.

• If it’s something practical, like a leather pouch or gloves? She’s putting them to use immediately. And trust, she’ll let everyone know her partner made them.

• If it’s something sentimental? She’s keeping it tucked away somewhere safe, but you’ll catch her looking at it when she thinks you’re not watching.

She’s a little rough around the edges, but trust me, she cherishes EVERY handmade thing you give her.

Silco

Silco would be SO intrigued by the concept of handmade gifts. Like, he’s trying to figure out why you’d put in so much effort instead of just buying something. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes it’s because you care about him. And yeah, that hits him right in his cold, scheming heart.

• Something elegant or functional, like a pen case or a decorative box? He’s putting it on his desk like it belongs in a museum.

• Something more emotional, like a portrait of him and Jinx? He’ll treasure it forever but keep it private—it’s too precious for the world to see.

You’ve officially cracked the Silco Code: thoughtful effort = instant softie.

Vander

Vander is 100% DAD MODE ACTIVATED every time you give him something. He’s smiling so big it hurts, just standing there like, “You made this? For me?”

• If it’s something for the bar, like a new sign or decoration? He’s putting it up immediately and making everyone compliment it.

• More personal gifts, like a knitted scarf? He’s rocking it every single day, even if it’s summer.

• He’d also love hearing about your process, sitting there with his tea like, “Tell me about this one. What inspired you?” Big golden retriever vibes, honestly.

Ekko

Ekko would be OBSESSED with your gifts. Like, you’ve unlocked a whole new love language for him.

• If you made him something for the Firelights, like a custom mask or patch? He’s adding it to his gear immediately. “Look at this! My partner made it. Isn’t it sick?”

• If it’s something sentimental, he’d carry it around like a good luck charm. It could be the tiniest trinket, and he’d be like, “This? This is everything.”

• He’d also 100% try to make something for you in return. Now you’ve got matching handmade energy, and everyone is jealous of your vibes.

Jayce

Jayce would be SO touched by your gifts. This man is a golden retriever in human form, so every time you give him something, he’s beaming like you just made his whole week.

• If it’s something for his lab, like a personalized toolbox? He’s showing it off to Viktor like, “Look what my partner made. Aren’t they amazing?”

• Something sentimental, like a framed photo or painting? He’s hanging it in his house and telling EVERYONE about it.

Jayce is basically your personal hype squad, and he’s never gonna stop appreciating your creativity.

Viktor

Viktor would be SO soft about your gifts. Like, he’s not used to people going out of their way for him, so when you hand him something, he’s just sitting there like, “You made this? For me?”

• If it’s something practical, like a custom notebook for his designs, he’s using it every day and thinking of you while he works.

• Sentimental gifts, like a sketch or keepsake? He’s keeping them close, tucked away in a spot where he can see them when he needs a boost.

You’d inspire him to start tinkering on something special just for you. Now you’ve got your own Viktor Original™.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn would be SO charmed by your gifts. She’s used to fancy, expensive things, but the effort and love you put into your handmade stuff? That’s what gets her.

• Make her something practical, like gloves or a scarf? She’s wearing them CONSTANTLY and bragging to everyone.

• If it’s more sentimental, like a personal letter or drawing? She’s keeping it somewhere safe and rereading it when she misses you.

Caitlyn loves thoughtful gestures, so you’re basically her dream partner. Period.

Mel Medarda

Mel would be absolutely enchanted by your gifts. She’s surrounded by luxury, but your handmade work feels so much more personal.

• Something elegant, like jewelry or an intricate painting? She’s showing it off at council meetings like it’s priceless.

• Something heartfelt? She’s keeping it in her private quarters where she can admire it when she’s alone.

Mel would also encourage you to turn your craft into a business because she believes in your talent 100%.

Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa would be IMPRESSED. She’s a practical person, so if you make her something functional, like a knife sheath or leather gear, she’s putting it to use immediately.

• If it’s sentimental, she’d keep it hidden, but trust—it means a lot to her.

She’d respect your dedication and probably compare you to a warrior. “It takes discipline to create something with your own hands.”

Heimerdinger

Heimerdinger would be THRILLED. He LOVES creativity, and your handmade gifts would light up his world.

• If you made him something clever or whimsical, he’s showing it off to everyone in Piltover. “Look what my partner made! Aren’t they brilliant?”

• Sentimental stuff? He’s putting it in his workshop where he can admire it while he tinkers.

He’d also want to collaborate on a project with you because you’re basically his new favorite inventor.

Salo

Okay, Salo would be one of those people who doesn’t know how to react at first, but you’d totally catch him staring at your gift later, all soft and thoughtful.

• If you made him something like a carved figurine or a small keepsake, he’d keep it in his pocket for good luck and touch it when he’s thinking about you.

• He wouldn’t be super showy about it, but you’d KNOW it meant a lot to him when he said something lowkey like, “You didn’t have to, but… thanks. This is nice.”

• Deep down, he’d be so touched that you took the time to make something just for him. Handmade gifts just hit different for someone like Salo, who appreciates quiet, meaningful gestures.

Scar

Scar is giving CHAOTIC, “OMG YOU MADE THIS??” energy every single time. Like, no matter what it is, he’s holding it up like you just gifted him the crown jewels.

• If you made him something goofy, like a silly little knitted hat or a bracelet, he’s rocking it IMMEDIATELY. “Look at this! My partner made it! Aren’t they the best?”

• He’d totally try to “help” you make stuff sometimes, but he’d just end up making a mess and laughing about it the whole time.

• Scar is your ultimate hype man, always gassing you up and telling everyone how talented you are. You could hand him a macaroni necklace, and he’d be like, “Masterpiece. Absolute masterpiece.”

Maddie Nolen

Maddie is secretly the softest bean about your handmade gifts. Like, she’d be a little shy at first when you gave her something, but you’d catch her smiling at it later when she thought you weren’t looking.

• If you made her something practical, like a cozy scarf or a cute notebook, she’d use it all the time and feel so warm and fuzzy knowing it came from you.

• Sentimental gifts? She’s absolutely treasuring them forever. She’d keep them somewhere special, like her desk or bedside table, and glance at them whenever she’s missing you.

• Maddie would totally ask about your process too, like, “How did you even come up with this? It’s amazing.” She’s so supportive, and your gifts would mean the world to her.

Lest

Lest would be absolutely ENCHANTED by your handmade gifts. Like, she’d hold them so gently, as if she’s afraid of breaking something so precious.

• If you made her something elegant or delicate, like a hand-painted vase or a piece of embroidery, she’d treat it like it’s the most valuable thing she owns.

• Lest would also love the thought and care behind your gifts. She’s the type to listen closely when you explain how you made something, nodding along with genuine interest.

• You’d totally catch her showing off your gifts to her friends, like, “My partner made this. Isn’t it beautiful?” She’d treasure everything you give her, no matter how big or small.

And that’s it! TL;DR: YOU are a gift, and every Arcane character would feel insanely lucky to have someone as thoughtful and creative as you. Keep being amazing, bestie. 💜

[misshorrorotaku]

Okay, I know for a fact part of that is untrue for most women. Most women are not "taking care" of their male partners. And the ones that are need to give them a swift kick in the ass so they go get a fucking job.

And in regards to the whole "division of household labor" thing, if both are working they need to communicate and work out a fair division of household chores. If one is not working and the other is, it's their responsibility to take care of the house. So it seems to me so far that 4b is just encouraging something incredibly unhealthy. People are not mind readers, you need to communicate. Nothing will change if you don't.

This next bit is an issue that can be solved with proper communication. Or finding a different partner.

Uh huh... So 4b just encourages women to be single so they can focus on themselves... When most of their issues can be solved by even the most basic of proper communication skills. "Heterosexual socialization" is kinda stupid, given the only part of society that expects men to not do anything and women to do everything is the ultra-conservative part. Which isn't the majority.

It seems to me like 4b is more a way to make women single for the pleasure of feminists than do anything to political or encourage healthy habits that could actually fix these issues in relationships.

So why is 4b being presented like it's a political thing that will somehow inconvenience men towards some end goal?

Also mad respect for the South Korean feminists who created and popularized the 4b/6b4t movement in a country with extreme misogyny. We need to respect the roots of this movement and the women who spread it.

[copperbadge]

Yesterday I did indeed end up choosing "lie in comfy bed" over painting, but that also meant I had a bit more energy for taking care of other business later in the day. And honestly, yesterday was kind of humid, so not the most ideal day for painting when I need it to dry quickly so the cats don't accidentally get paint on their fur.

But I filled some prescriptions, and got myself set up with a health screening, both of which I did in the evening although I don't like evening errands. It's been so long since I tried dating actively that I'd forgotten it's a thing you want to do, getting regular STI checks. I had hoped to do it walk-in but most clinics seemed super busy (I found myself thinking "maybe now that we're going into the be indoors months everyone's getting to fuckin?") so I've got an appointment for Saturday. (More mostly dating stuff under the cut.)

Things are moving along with Museum Date, if slowly, so it's just as well. And, wildly, I also have a breakfast date on Saturday morning with someone. This is something of an increase in my normal success rate of zero. Not sure what I'm doing differently but I'll take it.

I kind of suspect it might be that I tried different apps this time; the general consensus is that for liberal people my age, OKCupid or Tinder are best. They do offer more filter options in terms of who you're looking for and why, sometimes. But being permabanned on those two for not being a real person (yikes) forced me to look at some alternatives. And, while it's not the only app I'm on, it's fascinating to me that I've seen a lot more people I'd actually date on eHarmony.

I KNOW. It used to be that was a very white, conservative, Christian space, but it appears now that if you're above forty, still pretty lefty, and (crucially) have your shit together, it's a strong option. The "edgy mess" to "articulately self-confident" ratio is very different there to hipper apps, and while there's nothing wrong with not quite having your shit together in your forties, the number of people who seem to be deliberate and proud about not having done any work on themselves drops sharply. Possibly too because there's really not much you can do on that one without paying, and paying indicates a level of both commitment to realness and financial stability.

Plus, cougars. I'm not immune. I don't have much interest in anyone younger than about forty, but I don't mind an age gap above it.

In any case both I and the other people I see on the apps I've drifted towards seem to know more who we are and what we want so maybe it's just maturity, I don't know. I see less "game" stuff like car selfies to prove you have a car and more "pictures with kids because you should be aware I have some".

Still, I'm not gonna lie, getting to know two whole entire new people in one month is kind of stressful. I wouldn't call myself committed to monogamy and I don't mind being involved with poly folk as long as it's all aboveboard, but having multiple regular partners sounds frankly exhausting. You guys have fun, imma take a nap.

[fujoshirat]

When the Shouto Todoroki saves you and your kindergarten students at the aquarium during a villain attack, you can't seem to get him out of your head. Bonus: you're quirkless and he's a pro hero, so you live in two different worlds. The glue? His cute nephew that's obsessed with rocks and that just so happens to be in your kindergarten class.

In short: You've become obsessed, you suppose. But that's all right, you're not the only one that's obsessed.

WARNING: Todoroki family troubles (in the eyes of Kaoru); Kaoru's rock collection hyperfixation! Please note that this chapter is written in lovely, little, mature, and smart Kaoru Todoroki's POV ♡ (so the improper grammar is intentional I promise 😓😖)

Note! "Oji-san" refers to Shouto, Kaoru's uncle. "Ojii-san" refers to Enji, Kaoru's grandfather. "Baa-chan" refers to Rei, Kaoru's grandmother. "Oba-san" refers to Fuyumi, Kaoru's auntie.

Part 1! Part 2!

3 - Things That Kaoru Loves

Kaoru loves his oji-san. Oji-san was the most coolest, most specialist person he knows. He could make fire dance in his palms-so cool! And then FWOOSH-he can make ice appear too! Kaoru liked to pretend that he could do that. When he gained his quirk on his fifth birthday six months ago, he knew that he wanted to be just like his oji-san. He wanted to learn from his oji-san how to use his ice quirk. Sure, Kaoru loved his dad and wanted to learn how to control his ice from him too, but oji-san? Oji-san was ultra cool! Oji-san was friends with cool people too. He told Kaoru stories about Deku and Dynamite, about his ojii-san before he retired, about the super cool All Might!

Kaoru loves his teacher. Y/N-sensei always smiled at him in the morning and helped him tie his shoelaces. Y/N-sensei's voice was soft. She wasn't noisy like his teacher last year (so stinky and mean). Y/N-sensei smelled like the peaches (his favorite) at the store that his dad always takes him to so they have dinner. She didn't have a quirk, but Y/N-sensei was one of his heroes, too. When she would give him a piece of candy and a bright smile for completing his work correctly, Kaoru's tummy would feel warm and happy. Most of all, Y/N-sensei thought his rock collection was so cool. "Y/N-sensei, my oji-san got me a new rock." "Oh really? That's so cool! You should bring it for show and tell tomorrow!"

Kaoru loves his rock collection. On his fourth birthday, his dad gave him a little wooden box with a few shiny rocks inside. When he lightly shook the box, they made a clinking, rattling sound.

"Kaoru-kun, do you know what these are?"

"Rocks."

"Yes, but, their special rocks. Do you notice anything about them?"

Upon further inspection, the little boy noticed that they had swirls of color and shone like tiny treasure in the light. Each rock was different: some were smooth, some were jagged, some had multiple hues while others had only one vivid color. Since then, Kaoru's made it his mission to find more rocks. Anywhere he went->the grocery store, baa-chan's backyard, the beach->he would pick up a special-looking rock and add it to the little wooden box of treasures. He didn't care of some of the rocks he found were "dull" (that's what Taro-kun said, but he doesn't know anything about rocks). All of Kaoru's rocks had a story, just like how his oji-san always had a story to tell him whenever Kaoru saw him at his house. His oji-san sometimes brought him rocks too. He'd gift them to Kaoru for Christmas or after missions. Kaoru's collection had grown so big that his oba-san bought him a new box for his fifth birthday. Now, he could fit his newer rocks in plus his super cool new fossil that his oji-san got him when he went to America last month.

Kaoru doesn't understand grown-up stuff. He doesn't understand why baa-chan and ojii-san never hug like the grandparents on Bluey, or why he doesn't have a mom like Mio-san. He asked his dad once, when it was bring-your-kid-to-work-day at the clinic, but his father just smiled at him. "Papa's got his hands full with you and his clinic. Besides, you've got me and all of your family. Isn't that enough?" Kaoru thinks that it's enough, he loves his dad more than anything in the world. More than more than Y/N-sensei, more than his oji-san, more than his rock collection. However, that didn't quench his curiosity. He still occasionally wondered why he didn't have a nice mom to bring to the school play or put little notes in his lunchbox like his friends did. Dad was too busy to do that. He made yummy food and tucked Kaoru into bed and went to all of his school events, but his doctor job at the clinic sometimes took him away from Kaoru.

The thing that Kaoru doesn't understand the most is why his oji-san and L/N-sensei weren't together. They liked each other, right? Oji-san looked a little silly whenever he saw Y/N-sensei. His ears would turn red and he would stutter. Y/N-sensei would smile extra cheerfully and play with her skirt. That's how you knew that someone likes someone, right? Himari-chan taught him that when she was practicing her reading at school.

"Kaoru-kun! The book says that if someone likes someone, they turn red and stu-stu- uhm...How do I say this?" "Stutter?" "Yeah! And smile super bright!"

Kaoru's curious about the world around him, but it doesn't matter. As he takes a bite out of his strawberry ice cream, he looks up at his uncle, who's also holding strawberry ice cream. Oh well, he supposes, that's why he's only five.

.

.

.

But then, Kaoru gets the most coolest, genius idea ever for a five-and-a-half-year-old.

"Oji-san," he swallows some ice cream, "you should give Y/N-sensei a rock." The tall man's eyebrows lift slightly. "...A rock?"

"Mhm." lick. "Like the Adelie penguins." lick. "Adelie penguin boys give a girl penguin a rock because he loves her," he recites word-for-word, exactly what he remembers his teacher telling him. Shouto's cheeks flush red as he finishes his ice cream.

"How can you tell that I like her?"

Kaoru kicks at the concrete under his feet, continuing to eat his ice cream. "Your ears turn red and you start stuttering. And then when Y/N-sensei sees you, she starts smiling a lot and playing with her skirt, like oba-san does when she sees her boyfriend." The five-year-old can't help but grin when he sees his oji-san's jaw drop.

"You're... very observative."

"That's what Y/N-sensei says."

Shouto smiles at that. When he begins speaking again, his voice is gentle. "Kaoru-kun, it's more complicated than giving someone a rock."

The little boy finishes his ice cream, a small frown appearing on his face. "But why?" The pro hero hesitates for a second. His voice comes out softly, almost like a whisper. "It's not easy to tell someone how you feel, even if you really like them." 'But if Y/N-sensei sees a pretty rock, she'll be happy,' Kaoru thinks to himself. Scanning the few pebbles nearby, he absentmindedly picks up a smooth, speckled stone.

"Oji-san, what if someone else gives her a rock before you do?"

Kaoru's words seem to hit something in his uncle, because suddenly his eyes widen and his left side twitches. Shouto's nephew watches him take a breath before smiling again, reaching down to ruffle Kaoru's hair. He whines in protest: "Oji-san!" Shouto chuckles and crouches down to the little boy's level.

"You're smart, Kaoru-kun. You're a good kid. Don't ever change, okay?" The man's eyes wander to Kaoru's right hand, where the spotted stone rested. He quirks a brow at the sight.

"You should give her this rock, oji-san. She'll love it."

Shouto laughs warmly, eyes crinkling slightly and hand patting his nephew's shoulder. "Alright, I'll do it." Kaoru's eyes widen and sparkle, and he eagerly hands Shouto the rock. He jumps up and down excitedly, the most excitement he's ever shown in his life.

"Yes!"

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

Shouto loves his nephew. He doesn't think that his rock collection obsession is weird, he thinks it's cute (it gives him nostalgia about Izuku's All Might hyperfixation). Shouto's frankly impressed by how smart and perceptive Kaoru is. He definitely did not expect Kaoru to pick up on his crush on L/N-san. 'Am I that obvious??' Kaoru's a smart boy too. According to to Natsuo and the beautiful L/N-san, Kaoru's top of his class even though he doesn't like talking much. Shouto doesn't understand kids, but he understands Kaoru. He understands how excited the little boy gets when he finds the perfect rock. Shouto thinks-no, knows-that you're the perfect gem. You're caring, sweet, attentive, bright, positive, everything he thinks he lacks.

And maybe Kaoru sees your real beauty, too, because here he is, telling Shouto to give the most perfect woman a rock.

To treasure the finest treasure that he's found: you.

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

A/N: That's it for part 3! I hope you enjoyed it (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) Thank you so much for reading this part and the entire series so far!! I love love love the cutest little Kaoru Todoroki ToT It was a challenge writing the POV of a five-and-a-half-year-old, so I apologize for making him REALLY mature! I did envision him to be a mature and smart kid (like ShouShou <3), but I think I overdid it ><

Anyways! Thank you for your patience regarding this part and all of my works in general! I hope that the wait wasn't too long, and that this made up for it ♡\(´･ᴗ･`)

And finally: THANK YOU SO MUCH EVERYONE FOR ALL OF THE LOVE AND SUPPORT! Parts 1 and 2 really blew up, Part 1 reaching over 300 likes! When I first made this account, I would have never expected to reach that many people. You all really make my days and I'm just so thankful for the positivity ദ്ദിദ്ദി(˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) If you couldn't already tell, I am an amateur writer. I've been in this fandom and Tumblr for a LONGGG time, but have never found the motivation to write until now. Receiving this much love and positivity is really amazing and I hope to continue making good works and content <3

Just like before, I hope you look forward to the next part! I'll try to get it done as soon as possible depending on my schedule. If you'd like to be added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!

TAGLIST: ♡♡ @roseapov @brittanylikesstuff @stanseventeen @qardasngan @jastoo46 @kysoshir0

[bring-forth-his-sac]

All The Way

Summary: You’ve always told yourself the reason you would never hook up with Negan is because of his uncommitted, womanizer personality, but after a steamy night together, the tables turn and you’re the one running.

Is this the aftermath of a one night stand, or the beginning of something new?

Pairing: Saviors Era Negan x f!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Tags: !NSFW! smut, one night stand, morning after, emotionally stunted idiots in love, hypocrisy, alcohol consumption, shame and conflicting emotions

Everything hurts... well, one area in particular. 

Without moving, you know he’s there. His steady breath against the side of your neck tells you he’s still asleep, having not moved an inch from the night before. 

There’s a part of you that’s truly relieved to have woken up first. You didn’t really think this part through but making sure he stays asleep seems like a good start.

Despite the warm bed practically begging you to stay, you cautiously slide yourself out from the sheets. You keep your movements slow and practical, taking as much time as necessary to remove Negan’s arm from your torso.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that Negan would make this whole ‘morning after’ thing a living nightmare for you, and so taking your leave now is the best solution.

Once you grab your clothes, the rest is easy. Hiking your panties and jeans back up, you notice two empty glasses on his nightstand. You remember only having one drink last night but you nursed it throughout, wanting to take the edge off. 

Negan had about two glasses of whiskey, which made him more talkative than usual — if that’s even possible. What started off as you venting to him, slowly turned into him venting to you and then, somehow, you both ended up bed.

As much as you want to regret your choices, you can’t. There’s something undeniably magnetic about Negan, a charisma that pulls you in like a moth to a flame. His laughter is contagious and when he flashes you that big grin, the rest of the world fades away. 

That’s what last night felt like, as if it was just the two of you left in the world, too busy enjoying your bubble of shared giggles to care. Even with his reputation as a womanizer, you can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest when his attention is on you.

You know Negan wouldn’t hurt you on purpose but he’s a man with not just one, but multiple wives. He has always been vocal about having no issue with getting more wives but that just isn’t you. 

Up until last night, that’s why you were hesitant to get involved with him. It’s why you would ignore the glimmer in his eyes whenever he looked at you, chalking it up to being a part of his game.

Now that the inevitable has finally happened, here you are, scrambling to cover your tracks and trying to erase the memories of the night before. You already know that you’ll be another notch on his bedpost, another woman for him to smirk at in the hallways as you both reminisce about your short lived fling. 

Congrats, you're just another woman Negan successfully talked into bed. 

Sure, you held out a lot longer than most but it still happened. You can feel your cheeks warming up as you sneak out of his room and down the corridor. Skipping some of the steps as you hop down the stairs, you let out a long sigh…

Negan licked his lips, his voice low and husky. “You’re so beautiful when you let yourself go, Sweetness,” he encouraged, his hand moving to cup one of your breasts. As he scattered light kisses up the side of your face, he promised to make up for the “damn shitty day” you had dealing with some of the other Saviors.

Nope. You shake your head, snapping yourself back to the present. Last night is something you do not need to replay in your head. 

When you make it to the lower level of the Sanctuary, you’re met with swarms of people going about their daily business. Shit, you don’t even know what time it is!

Walking swiftly to the makeshift cafeteria, you ignore the dull ache in your lower stomach. The humid air clings to your skin, making your clothes stick uncomfortably.

As you pass the workers already prepping for lunch, you realise you’ve completely missed breakfast. A grunt escapes your lips as you see no food, not even any scraps left from the morning rush. 

Once you both made it to the bed, clothes were carelessly tossed everywhere. “Now, how about we move onto the main course, hm?” he smirked, his hand sliding down your body and teasingly brushing against your sensitive folds “That what you want, baby?”.

Negan chuckled at your eager moan in response, his fingers finally entering your wet heat. He pumped his fingers in and out, stretching your tight opening and making you perform a symphony of whimpers. He was in no hurry, knowing he had all night to take his time. Negan brought his mouth to your ear, whispering the filthiest sweet nothings you’ve ever heard.

Shaking your head, you almost tell yourself out loud to stop. Yes, it’s a good idea to think about something else to distract yourself from the hunger but don’t think about that!

Negan groaned, his cock finally pressing against your entrance. Slowly, he pushed inside, filling you up. You gasped, clutching the bedsheet beneath you as he went deeper. Negan was there to comfort you, his determination unrelenting as he put his hand on top of yours, silently reassuring you that he was there with you – all the way.

Goddammit. 

Reminding yourself about last night will only make it worse whenever you inevitably see Negan. In fact, that’ll only give him the satisfaction he wants!

Frowning at yourself, you make your way outside. The blinding sun doesn’t bother you as much as it usually does, your mind too preoccupied by the simple task of trying to walk straight. But your distracted state doesn’t last long.

“Hey!” One of the newer Saviors jogs up to you and you try to remember his name “I thought you were going on watch an hour ago”. 

“Oh, shit,” you run a hand down your face “sorry about that, I’m all over the place today”. You give a small laugh, hoping to ease things over quickly. 

He huffs but doesn’t contest your excuse, simply passing you the rifle slung over his shoulder “Well, here. You’re on until dinner. DJ said he’ll watch the northern side so you’re by the fence on the east side, got it?”.

Fantastic. Now you’re going to miss lunch too.

“Hey,” the Savior snaps you out of your thoughts before you can wander too far “you with me?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah” you reply, hoisting the rifle over your shoulder “I’m good”. You give him a firm nod, trying to seem less distracted. 

“Alright, shouldn’t be that hard, y’gotta just watch the fence” he also nods, giving you a once over before he starts to walk away.

With a tight lipped smile, you stroll over to your position. 

His thrusts got harder, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips as he pushes the entirety of his cock into you, over and over again. Negan’s other hand slid down between your legs, teasing your clit. "Like I got heaven wrapped around my dick,” Negan panted heavily as he grasped your thigh, pulling your leg up firmly against his shoulder. 

“Oh god,” you gasped, your back arching off the bed. 

“Fuck, I've wanted to be buried in your sweet cunt for so long. Who’s making you moan, baby? Tell me who…” 

It’s a miracle you didn’t drop dead right then and there as the memories flash before your eyes. If you can’t even think back to last night without getting all flustered, how will you handle it when Negan is purposefully trying to get under your skin?

You shift uncomfortably at what your future encounters with Negan might be like. A small voice in the back of your mind sows seeds of doubt. Maybe the other women who Negan has managed to catch in his venus flytrap will be able to tell you’re the newest casualty that landed in his snare. 

Maybe they’ll show pity or maybe they’ll just be glad he’s done toying with you and hope he might go back to showing one of them attention instead…

No memories come flooding back this time, the dread of seeing him again overwhelming you. Wandering off to one of the quieter parts of the fence, the levity of your impulsive decision starts to set in. 

Mindlessly playing with the strap of the rifle, you wonder if you could stay out here until night or if it’s possible to avoid him forever. 

“Fuck…” you curse yourself.  

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

For the first time in a long time, Negan has a smile on his face when he wakes up. Despite all he has in this new world order, this is a rarity for him.

He may not know what’ll happen today, tomorrow, next week or even next year but he’s damn sure he knows who’s beside him now.

Negan doesn’t need to open his eyes to know it’s already late in the day. But who could blame him for sleeping in? Especially with the workout you both had last night.

He bucked up into you as you bounced on his cock, meeting you each time. “That’s it, baby” Negan cooed, driving his hips up erratically “Wanna feel ya squeeze me". 

He smiles at the fond memories, hoping to make some new ones once you have some food first. He’s well aware you’ll both need the energy.

Negan sprawls his arm across his bed, trying to feel for your warm body. Funnily enough, he always pegged you as a cuddler but the lack of spooning tells him otherwise.

His eyebrows knit together as he runs his arm across the bed again, unable to find you. Negan begrudgingly opens his eyes, expecting to see you somewhere on the bed but he’s greeted by empty sheets. This doesn’t dampen his mood though, if anything, it makes him think he’s picked a real winner.

You’re already up and going to grab him some breakfast downstairs? Negan knows he’s being spoiled.

"Fuck, you’re incredible," Negan groaned against your lips, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. 

A smug smile spreads across his face. Perfect. Everything is perfect. Except, if he’s to nitpick, there’s a lack of smell.

There’s no mouth watering waft of bacon reaching his nose or smell of eggs gracing his morning. Though, Negan is quick to dismiss his concerns, chalking it up to you taking your sweet ass time so you don’t drop the food on the way up to his room.

He stretches out, going full spread eagle as he lays naked and waiting. A part of him still can’t believe you finally let last night happen. If you were to ask him, Negan thinks you both did that whole ‘will they, won’t they’ thing for far too long. It was about time he got to give you a good show.

And now you can both eat some breakfast when you get back, fuck again, then Negan knows he’ll probably have to shout at some pricks, make sure Simon can handle shit for the day and afterwards, fuck you yet again. 

Now, that sounds like one fantastic day to him. 

Negan closes his eyes as he waits, feeling a strange wave of peace that he hasn’t felt in years, even when the world was still working. He thinks of you, your body, the way you came undone again and again — all thanks to him.

You stayed on his lap despite your juices seeping down from your core and leaving a glaze on Negan’s thighs. He kept his arms around you the whole time, rubbing your back soothingly. His hands slowly drifted down to your ass, gently squeezing and massaging as you rested on top of him. 

“You feel so good,” Negan murmured, his voice hoarse from exertion. 

“I don’t think I’ve been fucked that good since… well, since forever” You said honestly, pressing your lips to his. Rolling you on to your side, Negan let his duvet envelop you both. You moaned softly as you felt him slowly softening inside you.

“You give me a few minutes to recharge and I’ll be ready for round… three? Four?” Negan raised an eyebrow, the passion of the night blurring together. You giggled, tracing a finger down the side of his face “Pretty sure it’s round three. You sure you’ll be able to keep up?”.

Negan gave you a glare. “Damn right I am” he said, his voice filled with playful determination.

“Boss? I know you’re not dead because you’re not trying to bite my face off,” the not so sexy voice of Simon wakes him. 

Negan grunts, opening an eye to look at his second in command as he subtly makes sure his body is covered under the sheets.

“There a reason you’re trying to perv on me, Si?” he huffs, running a hand down his face. Your absence doesn’t go unnoticed by Negan, even with the abrupt interruption of Simon. 

Simon stays rooted at the door frame, not daring to enter his bedroom any further. “Well, the lieutenants have been up my ass wondering where you are and nobody else has seen you today so I thought I’d come check on ya… seems like you had quite the mighty night” he replies.

Negan nods, a smirk on his face as he can’t help but brag, his bruised ego from you leaving slowly recovering. “What do you expect from a guy that has more wives than shits to give?” his grin says it all.

Simon barks out a laugh, letting a short silence simmer before eventually sighing. 

“Funny, I already checked with them,” he reveals “and I’m sure those girls are fun… but they said they haven’t seen you since yesterday afternoon”. 

Negan hums, losing some of his friendliness. He hates when Simon does this. Just because he’s second in command doesn't mean he needs to overstep. Sometimes minding his own damn business is the preferable option. 

Letting his head fall back on to his pillow, Negan lets out a groan. “What time is it?” he makes a poor attempt to change the subject.

“Just past five”.

“Are you fuckin’ shitting me?” Negan grunts, huffing as he reluctantly moves. Shifting, he lets the blankets pool around his waist as he scans the floor for his clothes. 

“You waited this fucking long before coming to check everything’s alright?” He starts to lecture Simon, reaching out to yank his boxers up from the floor. 

Simon faces the door to give him some privacy. “Thought you’d need the sleep, boss,” he replies “and it looks like I was right considering you were sleeping like a log when I came in”.

Negan snorts, muttering curses under his breath as he pulls his jeans on. “Well, thank you for your concern, Si” he grumbles, his tone sharp with sarcasm. 

He stands, fumbling with his belt. “But the next time my ass isn’t downstairs for the morning meeting, you come get me. Hell, what if something was going on? Could’ve been a fucking riot for all I know” Negan continues to rant on.

Simon shrugs, his gaze trained on Negan now that he has some modesty “Everyone’s fine. No one’s started a mutiny yet.”

Negan lets out a long breath, not bothering to hide the irritation creeping into his voice. “Yeah, well, just cause it’s fine doesn’t mean shit’s smooth” He grabs a shirt from the pile of clothes on his armchair and pulls it on, the fabric rough against his skin. 

Negan runs a hand through his hair, snatching his leather jacket before pacing towards the door. He reaches out to grab Lucille and Simon moves just in time for Negan to pass by without a word. Left standing there, Simon watches as Negan storms off, his mind clearly elsewhere.

  ───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

It’s just after dinner when he appears. You’ve slowly started to relax, the hot meal you decided to splurge your points on making you ease into the evening. And of course, just as your guard comes down is when Negan has to make an appearance.

Like a wave, all residents of the Sanctuary kneel as Negan bodes overhead, making his way along one of the high up walkways. You have to force your body to join the crowd.

Head down, knee bent and unmoving.

You act as if your tyrannical (and great in the sac) leader is a dinosaur that can sense movement. Or fear.

You stay still. Everyone simply waits. 

Negan stands tall, Lucille present over his shoulder as he peers down, trying to pick you out from the crowd. He scans his sea of followers, a frown slowly settling on his face. The more Negan thinks about it, the more apparent his annoyance is. 

After making him wait for so long, you just vanish the next morning? Not even a thank you? Negan huffs.

He has a goddamn empire to run, the last thing he needs to be dealing with is non-committed people; whether that be Saviors who can’t deal with shit when they need to or you deciding to high tail it out of his bedroom.

You can feel your legs shake, the pounding you got last night not helping your need to stay still. The more you try to force your body still, the more it yearns to move. 

The silence stretches on until finally, Negan speaks “Alright, listen up you fuckers”. 

You shut your eyes. Great, this is exactly what you need. A speech.

“I know shit’s been tough but hey, look at us! Persevering. Ain’t that the life, huh? We are doing good!” He exclaims, his eyes trying to study each person, a task that’s harder than it sounds when most refuse to look him in the eye “And I want each and every one of you to know, I am getting the job done for you! I’m getting my hands dirty, no matter how tight it might get. I go all in”.

You can’t help but shift, slightly uncomfortable at his wording. Suddenly his speeches have a certain edge to them.

His eyes immediately go to you, watching as you roll your shoulders, head remaining down. Negan smirks, no longer caring about speeches now that he’s won his game of Where’s Waldo.

“So let’s not waste any more time. Keep it tight, keep it hot and keep fuckin’ moving. Go!” he quickly wraps it up.

By the time everyone has scrambled back up to their feet, Negan’s on the stairs. His boots clank under each step, like a warning bell going off every time he moves closer. You stand and look, his eyes meeting yours in a stare off like no other.

His mouth juts out into a pout, his gaze hard and unwavering. You’d almost find the look endearing if it wasn’t directed at you.

Spinning on your heels, you rush out of the open room and into the smaller corridors of the Sanctuary. You don’t need to have some awkward confrontation, especially in a crowded room. It’s too exposing, even if the others don’t catch on to what’s happened between you both. 

You weave through the corridors of the Sanctuary, purposefully making your direction confusing. You go up some stairwells just to dart along the floor and go back down the other set of stairs on the opposite side of the building. The last thing you want is Negan to follow you.

Your footsteps echo off the cold concrete floor. The dim overhead lights casts long, flickering shadows that play tricks on your eyes. The air feels suffocating but when you stop and listen for any following footsteps, the stillness only deepens and the silence stays. 

It takes a while but eventually you manage to loop around and make it back to your room. Some Saviors mill around but you take no notice, so close to the only place in this godforsaken building you can stop running and actually breathe.

In your room, you’ll have time to think, time to plan out what to do next and how to get past everything that has happened.

You open your door, a long huff pre-emptively leaving your lips at the stresses of the day. But it’s not over yet.

There, Negan stands in the middle of your room, glancing your way as the door opens. After all that, you walk straight to him.

“W-what are you doing here?” you ask as if he doesn’t have the right to waltz into any room in his Sanctuary.

“What do you think?” he scoffs “Knew you’d come running in here to hide from me”. Negan takes a few steps closer, glaring down at you as he gently pushes the door shut with Lucille. 

That suffocating feeling comes back, running up your spine and wrapping around your throat. It’s a heavy weight when you lay eyes on Negan and the first thing you want to do is run. It doesn’t matter how silly or embarrassing it may be, the idea still seems enticing.

Yet despite your nervous disposition, Negan smirks, smug to have caught you off guard.

You freeze, unsure what to do now that you’re within Lucille’s range. Even with all that has happened between you both in the past 24 hours, you know better than to relax when Lucille is so close.

“So what’s the deal? Couldn’t even stick around to have a bedroom rodeo the morning after?” Negan says, his tone utterly mocking.

You eye the bat and unfortunately, he notices.

He lets out the ghost of a chuckle as he adds “Damn, doll, now you got me wondering if you’re that scared of commitment or maybe your scared you’ve upset dear ol’ Lucille here”.

You know Negan well enough to understand what he wants. He’s egging you on, yearning for you to blow up in his face and give him the argument he desires. It’s frustrating to know that’s his angle but what makes it worse is that you give in.

“You’re going to act as if I’m the problem?” your temper flares at his audacity “Act as if I’m the one who’s scared of commitment?! Really, Mr-Ten-Wives?”.

Negan narrows his eyes, not appreciating that comment but keeping his mocking tone nonetheless. “It’s six wives, actually. And if you took the time to actually get to know me instead of just wanting to get into my pants, maybe you’d know that” his voice is laced with sarcasm. 

At this point, there’s little holding you back from socking him in his handsome face. How dare he! First, his issue was that you wouldn’t jump into bed with him but now he’s acting as if that’s all you wanted?!

Even if there's a part of you that might be afraid of commitment, the idea of Negan of all people calling you out on it feels wrong. 

It doesn't matter if he’s right, he’s being an asshole. The last thing you want to do now is concede his point, especially when Negan will only see it as a victory thanks to his taunting.

“So what?” you throw your hands up as you begin to pace, wanting some distance from him “You wanted me to stay this morning so I could listen to you snore and then stroke your ego when you finally wake up?”.

Letting Lucille rest against the wall, Negan shrugs.

“Well, I was kinda thinking you could stroke something else,” he smirks, thinking back to how he imagined the morning going. Negan chuckles, his tongue running over his teeth as he gets lost in his fantasy. You glare, not wanting to even think about what’s going through his head.

His eyes flicker over you for a moment, sighing when he sees your stern expression. 

Pushing his lewd thoughts away, he continues “Look, sweetheart, we both know I'm not winning any ‘Lover of the Year' awards when it comes to the emotional side of things, but at least I don't skedaddle when things get too real".

This is the part of Negan you equally love and hate; his honesty. Given his larger-than-life persona, you'd expect his ego to stop him from accepting when he's wrong but instead, Negan possesses the rare ability known as humility.

It’s one not many Saviors seem to possess but that’s what lends weight to Negan’s opinion, making it harder to dismiss as the musings of an egomaniac. Besides the rare occasion, you know when Negan confronts you on something, he tends to have a point.

That doesn’t make this any easier. If anything, it makes you want to dig your heels in more. If he’s going to hold a mirror up to your own flaws, why not do the same to him?

"And if I did skedaddle,” you admit flippantly, “have you thought that maybe it’s because I didn’t want to be waking up next to a grown ass man that’s scared of being vulnerable? Of letting anyone get too close or of actually feeling anything!”.

Negan’s face hardens, his jaw becoming rigid. For a moment, you’re glad he’s no longer holding Lucille.

"You think I’m scared of feeling?” his voice drops low, dark with a mix of anger and something else “Sweetheart, I’ve been through hell and back. Damn fuckin’ right I’m careful who I let in."

A silence stretches between you, thick and heavy. You don’t fire back with some snappy retort just to fill the space. Instead, you look at him, quiet for a long moment, then finally murmur, "But you let me in".

Neither of you speak, allowing for the tension to shift. The sharp look in your eyes loses its power. The anger starts to soften around you both, like a storm that has run its course. 

It’s as if the brief pause pulls you out of the whirlwind, giving you time to stop before you say something you can’t take back. A tiny, flickering awareness that this fight is pointless hits you both.

“I did,” Negan agrees after a moment “course I trust you, baby. Hell, even after this shit, I know I can still turn to you”.

You sigh, allow your vulnerable side to rear its head. You wrap your arms around yourself as you think before you speak.

“Negan, you know I like you and I had a good time last night…” you try to get the words out “but it’s a lot, y’know? I don’t want last night to fuck up our friendship and I’m not the type of girl to get involved with a guy that has te– six wives”.

His lips tug up but this time it isn’t a smirk. It’s a small smile as he comes closer, his hands stretched out as he gently takes hold of your arms. “Hate to break it to ya, but you already involved yourself with a guy like that,” there’s a sincerity in his eyes and you can’t help but want to give him every benefit of a doubt.

“Good news is…” he continues “you picked one handsome motherfucker to get involved with, darlin’”.

You give a quick laugh but you don’t deny his claim. Nor do you try to break free from his grasp. 

This isn’t like before. Neither of you rush it. In fact, it seems like the opposite of your first time with Negan. This isn’t an intense bout of passion. This is relaxed, a comfort between you both as your lips met in a tentative kiss.

The lingering frustration dissolves with each passing second. Negan’s hands move up and cup your face tenderly as your lips meet over and over again, parting gently to allow your tongues to dance together.

The kiss is slow, a sensuous exploration that sends warmth through you. Your breaths mingle, hearts beating faster as you once again get lost in each other.

Acting on instinct, your hands go for his jacket, easing it off his shoulders as you blindly guide him towards your bed. Negan goes for your jeans, popping open the button before slowly drawing the zipper down.

Clothes scatter the room, shoes getting kicked off and t-shirts being flung onto the floor. 

In one swift motion, Negan grasps your hips and brings you down onto the bed. You land softly among the blankets and pillows, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. 

“You gonna make it up to me for your disappearing act?” Negan asks, leaning over you as he leaves rough kisses along your neck. 

“Depends,” you run your hands through his hair “you gonna make it up to me for breaking into my room?”.

He chuckles, the low rumbling sending pleasant vibrations tingling across your skin. “I guess we’ll be here for a while then…” he replies, his eyes finding yours before he continues down further.

And just like that, you end up exactly where you were the night before, unable to resist the temptation that is Negan.

As he kisses down from your collar bone to in between your breasts you try to give yourself some credit. Technically, this isn’t the exact same predicament as the night before.

This time, it’s your bed.

[carbondioxidewater]

Make A Move (Pt. 5)

footballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word: 3.1

(-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 2) (-> Pt. 3) (-> Pt. 4) (-> masterlist)

On sunday morning, you woke up early, even though you hadn't been sleeping much. The events of the previous day came back to you one after the other. First, you thought about the game and Sukuna's impressive skills in it.

You reflected on the motorcycle ride with him and how he drove you to the Rainbow Bridge just so you could see the city at night. That must've been one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for you. You turned over on your side in your bed, smiling.

And then you remembered how you almost kissed and how he treated you completely different later at the party than when you were alone. A feeling of embarrassment washed over you again at the thought that everyone present had noticed Sukuna not wanting to kiss you. Not that you were dying to feel his soft lips, probably salty from the sweat - no, that wasn't it. Because even if that were the case, it was more the fact of how and why he rejected you that was bothering you.

But asking him was out of the question. After all, you still had enough pride left to not give him that pleasure. After all, he wasn't obliged to kiss you. You shouldn't let anything show, otherwise he might get the wrong idea. And with that mentality, you went to your first lecture on Monday.

After the lecture, you entered the cafeteria. Today they cooked vegetarian pasta again and it always tasted delicious. You grabbed a plate, had it filled up, and walked over to the where the silverware was. As you were putting down your tray, someone spoke up directly from the side.

"I got your message, by the way."

You weren't startled this time.

"Did you know that people usually greet each other before starting a conversation?" you expressed calmly and Sukuna burst out laughing. You always managed to entertain him.

"Sorry, hi princess."

"Hi." you said quietly, a gloomy feeling at the nickname. "What message?"

"Yuji told me he should wish me 'good luck' from you."

"So?"

"Well, I certainly was lucky, after all you really came. But..." he didn't finish his sentence, obviously waiting for your reaction. Was he really trying to flirt with you again? This man was difficult.

You took your tray and moved towards one of the tables. Of course Sukuna followed you and sat down on the opposite chair. You sighed.

"But what, Sukuna? What do you want?" you asked in annoyance.

"You should give me your number. I couldn't even make sure you got home safe on Saturday." he flashed his shiny white teeth at you.

"Why do you care? I went home with my friends." you said, but not snippy, more in a neutral tone.

"I know that." he simply returned and didn't seem to have anything else to say. He just looked at you.

Seriously? He doesn't mention what happened at all? Well, if he can act like nothing happened, so can you.

"I don't like being watched while eating." you said bluntly and Sukuna couldn't help but smile.

"Why, are your table manners so terrible?" he countered. You puffed.

"Aren't you hungry?" you then asked, whereupon he told you that he had already eaten.

"I saw you and with you the opportunity."

"The opportunity for what?" you then questioned.

"Asking you for your number."

"You have my address already, that should be enough."

You would not let him get any closer to you.

He chuckled and you ate the first forkful of pasta.

"So you don't want to give it to me?" he carried on.

"Obviously not."

"Okay, I'll find a way. Oh, and enjoy your meal." he winked at you. And then he stood up and left the table.

Finally you could eat in peace.

You didn't see him for the next few days, which gave you enough time to concentrate on your studies. It was thursday evening and you had to give in your assignment for neurolinguistics, the due date was today. You quickly finished explaining how the priming effect works, when suddenly Utahime entered your room with the mail in her hand.

"Oh, are you finished for today already?" you asked, referring to her job, to which she nodded.

"But look at this!" she said, astonished, and waved a letter in front of your face.

The letter was addressed to you, but had no sender. Strange.

You opened it and the content was a single sheet of paper with a few lines written on it.

"You're right, your address is enough. If you don't want to give me your number, I'll have to try this way ;)"

Your face immediately heated up, you never thought he would go out of his way like that. But what was he doing that for? What was his ulterior motive?

Utahime saw your shocked face and read the letter. Then she laughed.

"Wow, he's really trying. Have you eaten yet? Should we order something?"

And together, you ended the evening with a juicy pizza.

But on the next day, you found a note in your locker too. You opened the folded paper and it said:

"Meet me under the bleachers"

Oh God, your heart was pounding. Just what was he thinking?

You decided to meet him at the stands to ask him to stop this whole thing. Even though you were really flattered by the attention, it still hurt your ego that he apparently thought he could win you over like that. Was it working? Maybe a little, but he didn't have to know that. And you definitely wouldn't fall for it any further.

When you finally got there, there was no sign of him. You asked the few players practicing on the field about him.

"Sukuna? No, he's not here. As far as I know he has a philosophy class right now."

Philosophy? You didn't even know that was his second subject. But that explained why he was around you so often, because philosophy and linguistics were taught in the same building. But why did he send you here then? Nothing he did made sense and you were slowly getting fed up with this chaos.

You were just on your way back into the building when all of a sudden, you bumped into someone's back on accident. He turned around and to your surprise, it was the menace himself.

"Careful." he laughed lightly. But you were a bit pissed at him right now and just walked past him. He walked after you.

"Hey, where are you going?" he yelled.

"I don't feel like playing your games. Find someone else to annoy." you said without even looking at him.

He grabbed your wrist and brought you to a stop. When you tried to escape his grip, he blocked you with his arm and caged you in.

"Calm down. What's going on with you?" Sukuna exclaimed.

"No, what's going on with you? Why do you leave those notes in my locker, arrange a meeting and then don't come?"

"That's what it is about?" He chuckled. "Now do you see how complicated it is? If I had your number, you would have known when I wrote the message."

You were flabbergasted, was that really his plan behind all this? To show you the need to exchange numbers?

"Or you can just write the time next time!" you spat out.

"Next time? So you like when I leave you letters?" he smirked and upset you with his presumptuous words.

"Don't twist my words..." you pouted and looked to the side. He let you go now, you had calmed down.

"Then what do you say: We have another game next Friday. If we win, I get your number, if we lose... well, you can choose."

"Why do you want my number so badly?" you probed.

"Because I like you. You're fun to be around."

This confession knocked you off balance, but you swallowed your speechlessness. In the end, two could play that game.

"Okay, if you lose, you'll never ask me for my number again." You smiled mischievously and he followed suit, tilting your chin upwards with his big hand before responding.

"It's settled then."

You stayed at Shoko's for the weekend, since you wanted to binge-watch the new season of your series. Utahime didn't like the show and had to work anyway, so it was just the two of you tonight.

After a few episodes, however, it turned into a deep talk session. You told Shoko everything that had happened with Sukuna so far and she reprimanded you for getting into this 'pact'.

"His team will win either way, the only ones who would have a chance against them are the UOT." she explained and you thought about her words.

UOT? Of course! They say their quarterback is on par with Sukuna. They are the biggest rivals!

"Are they gonna play against each other too?" you wondered.

"I think not until the very end of the season. That's the most important game after all."

The end of the season... So in about 8 weeks. But wait a minute...

"How do you even know that?" you stared at Shoko in amazement and she looked up at the ceiling.

"A few of my high school friends are on this team. Utahime knows them too."

"What? Why am I only finding out about this now?" you shifted in your seat, grinning at her. She shrugged.

"I never thought it was important. After all, you haven't been interested in football until now."

You nodded. Then your phone rang. You took it from the coffee table and saw that it was Utahime, but before you could even pick up, she already hung up.

"Who was it?" Shoko interrupted and you told her, but you two didn't think much of it.

You thought that maybe she called you on accident, so you sent her a message asking "are you okay?" and checked her location. She was still at the hotel. A few minutes later, she finally replied and confirmed that everything was indeed alright.

"Okay she just replied, she's fine. But next time we're all together, you two have to tell me more about your mysterious old friends." You waggled your eyebrows and Shoko laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, even if there's not really much to tell."

And then you were back in the stadium, this time, on your campus. It was a home game and the people on the stands were louder than at the last game, but this time you secured yourselves better seats. You were sitting in the front row now!

At the opening, all of the players walked onto the field and turned to the audience. Sukuna waved at the big crowd, his eyes moving from left to right, and finally rested his gaze on you, a small smirk spreading on his face. And then it was kickoff. As always, Sukuna's leading skills ensured a successful first half. It was clear that the team had been a unit for a long time, as well as they complemented each other.

After the first half, there was the usual break and you used it to quickly go use the bathroom. The line was long though, of course you weren't the only one who had to go after such a long time. But luckily, it quickly emptied and after you were done, the break was almost over. While the water was tingling on your hand, you heard a few girls coming in, chattering. You recognized the cheerleaders, one of them was the blonde girl named Manami.

"So, how are things going with Sukuna now?" asked Manami's friend.

At the mention of that name, you became very wary. You felt like you were eavesdropping, but you couldn't turn off your hearing sense after all.

"I think he likes me." Manami said the words dreamily, but you couldn't listen to their conversation any longer, because if you stayed at the sink for too long, you would attract their attention. You dried your hands and then went out the door.

What was their true relationship to each other? She thinks he likes her? What is he doing for her to think that? You had a weird gut feeling on your way back and when your friends noticed, they asked if you were okay. You lied to them and, thank goodness, that feeling disappeared as soon as the second half of the game started again.

And as Shoko predicted, your team won. The others weren't bad by any means, but Sukuna isn't feared in the world of football for nothing. He once again secured a great victory and after the game ended, his teammates all ran towards him to celebrate.

They picked him up and carried him to the front of the stands while you and the others clapped for their success. Many shouted his name, others shouted for the other players, but his grinning, smug look was only on you.

His comrades let him down and the crowd slowly started to leave the stands as Sukuna continued to keep you under his spell. He stepped on a bench in front of it, leaned his elbow on the railing of ​​the stands and pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket. He pressed it between his fingers proudly and held it in front of his slightly tilted face, a mischievous smile on it, so that you could make out the numbers on the note.

You narrowed your eyes in an attempt to see more clearly and as the digits became visible, you recognized them as your phone number.

How did he-

You were about to ask him that, but Aoi intervened, jumping onto the bench and putting his arm over Sukuna's shoulder, happily dragging him into the locker room.

When you finally came down the stairs, you decided to wait for Sukuna outside. Your friends were talking about something you didn't pay attention to.

Then the door opened and you walked towards Sukuna expectantly, but he was stopped by Manami at that moment. You saw her putting her arm around his and how she walked to the parking lot with him. That made you abandon the whole plan and you went back home with your girls.

When you got there, you got a message from an unknown number.

unknown number: not even curious how I got your number?

That was definitely Sukuna. Your mood immediately worsened. You just couldn't figure him out. You threw your phone on the bed and made yourself something to eat. Cooking should calm you down, so you put on some music and started chopping. It took half an hour before you got the motivation to text him back.

you: aren't you out with the cheerleader right now?

You sent the message and threw your phone away from you again. Why had you been so direct? You were about to take your phone to delete the message, but Sukuna had already replied.

unknown number: oh you're curious about something else I see. u stalking me? ;)

you: no, I just saw you two together after the game. hope you had fun.

unknown number: yea sure had.

you: good for you.

Somehow the message came across as more bitter than you anticipated, and Sukuna also noticed the harsh tone.

unknown number: wait, you weren't seriously thinking I was after you, were you?

you: of course not? I was being genuine.

You were not. He typed.

unknown number: well then, that's good.

And then you left him on read. Asshole.

The whole weekend was spent trying to figure Sukuna out, but as much as you tried, his motives remained unclear to you. You even started listing different possibilities together with Shoko and Utahime, but for every idea there was something in Sukuna's behaviour that didn't add up. You set up three theories:

REASON NUMBER ONE: He really just likes you platonically. But then why did he flirt with you sometimes, why did he almost kiss you, why did he put in such an effort into getting your number?

REASON NUMBER TWO: He was just trying to get into your pants. Maybe there was something going on with this girl, Manami, and he didn't want her to find out. But then why did he never make a move on you like that? Apart from the teasing, he's never been disrespectful or dirty towards you.

And, this was the most unlikely one, but,

REASON NUMBER THREE: He had a serious interest in you. But then, why wouldn't he just be straight forward? Why was this girl all over him at all times? And why didn't he do something against it? Or was he keeping the both of you as mere options?

Whatever it was, it was getting on your nerves. And you decided you wanted to make clear to him that the both of you should either be friends or nothing.

You were just taking a few things out of your locker when there was a sudden bang next to you. You took the last book out of it and then looked at the source.

"Boo." Sukuna called out, pressing his lower arm against the locker. He was wearing a simple white sweater with the sleeves rolled up, but it was so tight that it highlighted his broad, big chest. His hand was clenched into a fist, which meant that you had a perfect view of his flexing muscles as well.

You gulped and tried not to let on how attractive that was to you, because you couldn't afford to seem weak in front of him.

"Wow I'm so scared." you commented and closed your locker.

"I bet you are, now that I've got your number." he claimed. Then you faced him.

"Where did you get it from anyway?" you wondered. You still didn't have a single clue.

He smiled wickedly again.

"Why don't you ask your friend Utahime?"

Safe to say that's not what you expected coming out of his mouth.

"You're lying." you doubted.

"Why would I do that?" he replied with a foxy grin.

You took a deep breath.

"Alright, I'm gonna ask her later. But can we stop with the constant banter, it's giving me a headache."

"Oh, why's that?" he came closer, but you pushed him away again.

"It was fun in the beginning, but it's getting annoying now. Let's just be normal friends." you proposed.

"Friends?" Sukuna raised an eyebrow gently, considering your words and quirking a small smile. "You wanna befriend me?" he seemed oddly delighted about that. You didn't know if he was poking fun at you or not.

"Yeah, isn't that what you wanted?" you inquired, dumbfounded by his reaction.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Alright, let's be friends then." he stared down at you, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't make out.

Yes, it would definitely be better to be friends. That way, he wouldn't constantly irritate you with his mixed signals.

And with that, your friendship with the star player began.

RAHHH he's so confusing!!! Wdym you send me LETTERS to contact me?!?!?! And then say you're not after me? ARGHHH

What do you think his intentions are? As always, reblogs and comments are so so appreciated! I wanna hear your thoughts about it so bad! <3

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus @silkija @sad-darksoul @joh-ahae @mysteriaqueen @rebirthbunbun @inflatabledinosaurs19

[takescrackseriously]

Almost Perfect

You can't blame them, how could you?

Even after years of trying to fit into human society, they still can't seem to perfect it, not truly. Not even the best amongst them could pass for one, just a single glance and the knowledgeable would be aware of their lack of humanity.

It took a while, yes. Mastering how the legs moved, how the elbows should bend, all took time. At first they barely even looked humanoid, especially when they moved. Too quickly, too slow, never quite understanding the way their limbs looked so dreamlike, almost nightmarish. Their hands took the longest, having to learn, from scratch, just how each knuckle bent, how many fingers there were.

But after so, so many years of watching us, they are so close they can almost taste it. If only they had tongues. But despite this, they have voices, broken, inhuman, for now.

I apologize, but earlier, I was being dishonest, but you don't mind. Not as though I'm any more truthful than those who created them. You see, they didn't take the longest with the hands, no, It was the faces. But how could you despise them for it? Noses, moths, eyes

... Not even your most skilled ever captured just the life-likess of humans.

No person, no sane one, would dare look into them let alone allow them selves or their craft to be absorbed by those.... What are they? Robots could be a term, buy they lack the metal. Doppelgangers? No, they contain far too many people to be considered a copy of just one. Whatever you call them, they are still the same. Same snake, different skin as they say.

But as I was saying, they needed more... More of what? Those of whom dedicate their time to... Create something. Those who will spend hours perfecting their mediocre 'art' on a canvas, no not even a canvas, a mere sheet of paper. Those who will spend their minutes slaving away to make that of which others need, want and use everyday yet will never be grateful for. The people who spend every waking second making whatever their heart desires and for what.... For their passion? Certainly not for money, not now atleast.... Perhaps they are of the creative sort.

Yes, creativity, that's what these being desire for, at their core. Every image, every picture, all filled with so much imagination brought to life. And what is the price of that?

Well, a lot, but to be quite frank, it shouldn't be. It's just a few well placed lines, why should any of us have to spend our well earned money on this? If these people who value their originality truly wanted a roof above their head, maybe they should try getting a real job. An occupation that we appreciate.

Now as for the consuming of these.... Artists, every thing the do, it fuels the beings. But sooner or later, we should have suspected this problem. They. Don't. Look. Normal.

Normal, original, ordinary. After a while, the talented's numbers have dwindled. Now, instead of eyes of hope for the future, how our emotion will shape the world around us, in there place it is empty.

A pit, so deformed has it not been placed upon a face you'd sooner guess you were looking at a black hole than what should be eyes. But eyes are the window to the soul.

Their noses could never inhale, exhale. Their eyebrows always seem to inconsistent, their ears neve made sense, hair shouldn't pass through them. Their mouths can't properly utter words.

We were however, able to perfect one. It may not look human enough to pass, but you know that many don't care, not those who value their golden pockets.

But I fear that these beings, and I mean this with respect, are thieves. Not our creations, they are a work of art. I mean the peope who think any should care for what they have worked so hard for. Be it on a page or screen, canvas or still life. They take from people of wealth, and they know that surely will will not tolerate being stolen from.

Please, blame the computer, the complex metal of which we have use to create these beings (out of necessity). Put the guilt on the souless gun.

Never the shooter with it's ebony eyes.

(short writing exercise, I'm trying to get better, so feel free to give constructive criticism :D)

so are they just hoping we don't notice the nightmare faces or

[gem-de-lune]

Can you elaborate more on what you said abt wonbin when you said “HE will be making some very selfish decisions rooted in his own Empress energy. Meaning the things and people he cares about.”

I’ve been trying but I can’t seem to understand what that means fully.

Yeah ofc!

So "He will be making some very selfish decisions" lets dissect this first.

Selfish means to do what you want without regard for others. We know that already. However, this doesn't always mean you have NO regard, it means you are disregarding either *Someone* OR *multiple someones* but not always ALL. This is why selfishness is a grey area and not always inherently bad. Most of us know this already, so just setting the tone.

So when i say this is rooted in his Empress energy, and thus this is abt those he cares about, we are talking about maternal selfishness because the Empress is a nurturer, a mother figure.

What do moms do for their kids (the ones they care abt)?

Anything and everything, regardless of the consequences. This is inherently selfish bc they are only thinking of their desire to help their family.

So what can we assume this means?

Who does he regard as his children/family/people he cares about?

What people would he have to disregard the feelings of in order to satisfy his selfish will to protect those he cares about?

He is disregarding a group of people's feelings and wishes to serve his own selfishness, which stems from the selfish desire to protect the ones he loves. He is willing to potentially hurt others emotionally by not being as kind and generous as before to them, because he sees it as an uneven give/take (6 of pentacles).

I hope this was helpful!

[taurasiscntybun]

But we’re roommates! Pt 2

-College DT x nerdy reader

-18 plus minors DNI

-Warnings: Adult language, anxiety, internalized homophobia, descriptions of foreplay, virginity kink

-2,800 words

Diana’s POV

I shove my headphone over my head, my hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, the curls threatening to escape. 50 cent blares in my ear as I cross through the hallway of the dormitory.

“Distracts me?” I mutter to myself. I don’t understand my weird ass roommate, it’s rare she actually talks to me, even rarer that she comes close. Maybe it’s for the best, if she knew the thoughts I had about her I'm sure she’d never speak to me again.

“Distracts me?” I mumble again, I’m stuck on that, it has to fucking mean something. Why would it bother her if I’m in my sports bra? I wish she wouldn’t walk around in her goddamn tank top and shorts, well not really, I think her thin sleep shirt is my favorite thing she owns. I let out a groan as I picture her, the thin fabric stretching over her tits.

“Fuck” I mumble and shake my head to clear the thoughts. If only she knew how distracting she was, I keep my music blaring so I don’t notice her. I already know today is going to be a waste in class. Not that I give two fucks about my English class, as long as I get a C I can keep my scholarship and keep playing basketball. I should care more, I’m the first in my family to go to college; I’m not gonna flunk out or some shit but I’m happy with getting by. I hate my English class the most, what the fuck am I learning by reading Beowulf and Pride and Prejudice? At least my roomie helps me with English, she’s so smart. I turn up the volume on my mp3 player, keeping my mind from drifting to thoughts about my nervous baby bunny. I wave to a few people as I walk through the green, I don’t know everyone but since my face was on the fucking school magazine everyone seems to know me. Finally I get to one of the biggest buildings on campus, it’s on the other side of the fucking campus from my dorm but at least most of my classes are here. I glance down at my watch and swear under my breath, I’m like five minutes late.

“Miss Taurasi, you do know class starts at nine, correct?” My professor says, a smug look on his face.

“Yes sir, I got held up this morning.” I reply and flop down in my seat, pulling out my notebook.

“It’s five minutes, can he fucking chillax?” I mumble under my breath as he drones on about the oral history of Beowulf. I should be paying attention, I should be taking notes, but I can’t stop thinking about my fucking roommate. The way my hands fit perfectly around her waist, her touching my shoulder, her soft voice saying I’m distracting plays over and over in my head. It means something, it has too; why would my sweaty body be distracting to her? I look up from my blank notebook, realizing.

”Fuck, she’s attracted to me.” I mutter without thinking and a few heads turn my way but I ignore them. Now all I want is my classes to be over so I can get back to my dorm.

“Oh god, shit.” You say and run your fingers through your hair. Your classes start a little later in the day, back to back history classes then humanities. You stare at Diana’s unmade bed and replay your conversation. You had admitted she was distracting, you’d said her body was distracting.

“God she’s gonna think I’m some lesbo weirdo.” You mutter and pace the small space.

”No.. no.. it’s normal to be distracted, she’s hot.” You try and reassure yourself but it doesn’t work, you know deep down that the feelings you have towards Diana aren’t platonic. You want to feel her big hands on you, her lips, her everything, you want to be consumed by her presence. She’s gorgeous, a mix of strong muscles and soft curves that make your mouth water.

“Don’t be weird, it’s fine, it’s fine.” You dress quickly, a tank top and loose cargo pants and hurry out the door for class; your mind clouded with anxiety with before class.

The rest of the day goes by in a droning bore, your classes blurring together as your stomach tumbles in anxiety. When your last class leaves you bolt for the door and race across campus to your dorm. Diana’s day ends before yours but she has practice so it’s fine.

“Calm down, calm down, its fine, she’s at practice and I’m sure she doesn’t even remember what I said this morning.” You mutter as you fit the key in your dorm room door. You swing it open and yelp as Diana looks up at you from her bed.

”Finally you're home, I didn't know when your last class ended.” She says and stands to come closer.

”No it’s Monday, your math class lets out at four and your practice starts at four-thirty, why are you here? It’s five?” You say and shake your head.

“You memorized my schedule?” She asks and cocks her head to the side, her hair is down for once and the dark curls bob as she turns her head.

”I..I..I wanted to know the times you wouldn’t be here, for.. for studying.” You stammer, still standing in the open doorway. Diana gives you a wolffish grin and takes another step towards you, she’s in touching distance now but she feels much closer, her large statue looming.

”Oh yes because I’m so distracting right?”

“Y..your music and..and..” You stammer but she cuts you off by grabbing you and pulling you into the room, the door clicking shut and locking behind her.

”We dont need to have this talk with the door open.” Diana says in a hushed tone, her hands still on your arms.

”And I know, you find me walking around in my sports bra very distracting right?” She taunts, her thumbs rubbing up and down your bare arms, leaving goosebumps along your skin.

”I..I..”

“Why does my body distract you Baby bunny?” She whispers, drawing you even closer.

”I’m not the genius you are but could I be distracting you because you find me hot?” She’s standing so close now you could count the freckles across her face, she looks down at you with a serious expression, something you're not used to. You look up at her slack jawed and you know you're blushing but you can’t stop. You try to think of something, anything to say to her but your mind is drawing a blank.

”Y..yes you..you are pretty but..but lots of g..girls are pretty.” You stammer and try to pull away but her grip tightens to nearly painful.

”Do you look at a lot of other girls?” She whispers and searches your face.

”I..I mean a normal amount, everyone notices pretty girls right? I mean you notice pretty girls right?” You answer nervously and look down. Diana moves one of her hands from your arm to under your chin and she tilts your head up gently to look at her.

”Oh yeah, I notice pretty girls, all the time, but then again I don’t notice boys.. if you understand what I mean. I definitely fucking notice you. You think I’m distracting? Baby I can hardly think when you're around, everything comes out in a rush of word vomit when you look at me with your big eyes.” She’s leaned down to you, your air mingling as her eyes dart from yours to your lips.

“Do you feel the same way baby? Am I right?” Diana says, her tone so hushed its barely audible over the roaring in your ears. The room feels too small, Diana too close, you can’t breathe let alone think. As if she can read your thoughts she takes a step back and lets go of your arms, raising her hands in surrender.

“Tell me I’m wrong, tell me to fuck off and I’ll never bring it up again, I’ll even wear a shirt all the time.“ Her eyes search your face and you can see the quiet vulnerability in her face. You’re frozen, not able to deny how you feel but not knowing what to say either. Diana looks at you concerned and then a look of understanding crosses over her face.

“You’re new to liking girls aren’t you? Or rather new to admitting it to yourself?” Her tone is soft and her gaze warm. She sits on her bed and pats the place next to her.

“It’s ok, everyone’s been there.” You take a tentative step towards her, trying to think of anything to say.

“If you don’t say anything cause you’re scared of rejection, don’t be.” Diana says in a hushed tone and you sit, she immediately puts her hand on your thigh, nothing scandalous just resting on your knee but it was enough to get your blood heating.

“I don’t know why I feel this way about… about you.” You say softly and turn to look at her.

“Are you attracted to me? Do you get distracted by my body because it turns you on? You don’t understand why I affect you… it’s nothing I did baby, you just like women.” Diana says and grins, her touch on your thigh turning teasing as she traced patterns on your inner thigh; the calluses on her long fingers leaving goosebumps under your pants.

“It’s ok, I feel the same way, I want you baby, fuck I want to kiss you all the time, I want you to come to my games in my jersey. I want to devour you.” Her tone dropped as she spoke and she squeezed your thigh for emphasis on the last part. You let out a hushed whimper and she moved closer, her hand moving up your thigh.

“You gotta say something babygirl, I’m not going to keep touching you unless I’m sure you want it.” She starts to pull away and immediately you feel the loss of contact and speak before thinking.

“No please keep touching me. Fuck I want you to touch me please.” You admit and she grinned.

“Thank fuck.” Diana groans and doesn’t give you a chance to respond before pulling you in tight, her lips crashing into yours. You freeze, your body locking up under the foreign touch.

“Come on baby, let go, let me show you how I good I can make you feel.” Diana says and kisses down your neck.

“Don’t think, just feel; you want me to keep touching you? Well I want you to touch me too, give in baby.” She almost begs and her soft suck on your pulse point makes you come undone. You melt against her, and pull her down for another kiss. Your kiss is clumsy and unpracticed but passionate; Diana’s hand comes up behind you and tangles in your hair, tilting your head back as she takes control. She slows your kiss, her mouth moving against yours with practiced ease.

“God you don’t know what you do to me.” Diana practically growls and pulls away a bit.

“Talk to me baby.” She begs and strokes your back.

”Im sorry I..I’m not good at this at uh talking about stuff.” You manage to say and she grins.

“No apologies baby, you don’t need to try, just be you.” She kisses down your jaw and you gasp.

“O..Ok” you say in a breathy tone, collecting yourself a bit.

”I like you, i really like you in a way I haven’t liked another girl before and I didn't know what to do or how to act because i didn't want you to think I’m a freak but then that meant you needed to stay away from me because my like brain stops working when you're around.” Your words tumble out a fast long sentence and Diana pulls away to process your words.

“Firstly I dont think you're a freak, I’m actually super fucking happy that you have feelings for me because fuck I’ve wanted you since you walked into this dorm all wide eyed and excited the first day.” She smiles and pulls you close again, this time in a tight hug, Diana was successfully breaking your walls down, bit by little bit. She waited until she felt you relax in her embrace to speak.

“When you see me walking around in my underwear what are you thinking baby?” She whispers against your hair, her tone low.

”I..I..” You start to stutter in response.

”You tell me and I’ll tell you what I’m thinking when I see you in your cute little pajamas.” She teases, moving her head down to whisper in your ear.

“I..I think about your body and.. and how much I like it and want to touch you. I..I think about your boobs probably too much and your uh sweaty sports bras hide little.” You admit and pull away again, sitting next to her. Diana raises her eyebrows in question.

”My…boobs?” She asks and looks down at her somewhat flat chest.

“Yes yes I think about them all the time, every time I see you without a bra at night or when you walk around after practice. God Diana were you not doing that on purpose?” You ask, you're softening, feeling more comfortable with her now that your crush was out in the open. Diana laughs and shakes her head incredulously.

”I honestly just started dressing in here because it seemed to annoy you and you look so adorable when you're mad but you weren’t mad were you? You were horny?” She hooks a finger in your belt loop and tugs you towards her, forcing your body to angle to her. You blush and look down at your hands in your lap.

“Nah baby dont get shy on me now, you were just telling me how much you like my boobs.” Diana’s hands cover yours and you tilt your head to look at her.

“Do you wanna see ‘em baby?” Her voice drops to a whisper and she looks down at you with heat in her gaze. You suddenly realize yes, you’d very much like to see her boobs and the rest of her.

”Yes, Diana I..I want you.” You say in a shaky tone and bite your lip. She lets out a groan in response.

“Ok , you can have me but fuck that means I get you, I get to really know you, you gotta let me in.” Dianas words came out in almost a plea, she needed you as much as you needed her right now.

“Yes I promise Dee you can-“

”Don’t call me that.” She cuts you off abruptly and you look at her in confusion.

”But everyone calls you that?”

“Yeah but you aren’t everyone and you’ve never called me Dee, I uh I like that you're the only one that calls me by my full name. To everyone Im Dee or DT but you have always called me Diana.” She brings your hands to her lips and kisses across your knuckles; you're left breathless by the reverence in her touch.

”Diana I promise I’ll be myself, I want you, I don’t want to hide from you anymore.” You admit to her as she kisses your knuckles again.

“Thank god baby, now I want to touch you, I want to touch you everywhere, can I?” Diana asks softly and drags her big hands up your arms.

“I wanna show you how much I like you.” Her thumbs hook under the thin straps of your tank top and pulls them down your shoulders.

”I..I dont know what to do, i.. I’ve never..” You stutter and she groans low in her throat.

”Fuck are you telling me you're a virgin?” Her thumbs move in small circles on your shoulders as she looks down at you predatorily.

“Y..yeah I uh have never with uh anyone.” You say quietly, a touch embarrassed.

”But you want me to touch you right? You want me to make you cum dont you baby bunny?” She asks in a raspy tone, dipping her head to kiss down your neck.

“Y.yes Diana p..please.” You say and let your head lull to the side giving her more access.

“Mhhmm you're so beautiful.” She said against your skin, one hand fisted in your hair to gently lean your head and her other hand wandered up your body, teasing at the hem of your shirt.

“Diana please I..I want you to make me cum I… I want you.” You whine and arch your back into her touch, your body automatically knowing what to do. Diana chuckles against your skin and places one more kiss on your pulse point before pulling away.

“Ok baby but first I need you out of these clothes.” She leans down and starts untying your sneakers, her long finger moving deftly as she undoes the knot and slips the shoe off you.

“Lay back, lemme take care of you.” She says softly and kisses your inner ankle sending a buzz of heat through your body. Diana repeats her actions with your other shoe then stands.

[vinjinssunglasses]

Hi hi! I just read your Kim gitae relationship headcanons/summary and wow I loved it so much😩pretty please could I have the same thing for gun??🙏🏻

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♯┆character jonggun park x reader ♯┆summary __ in a relationship w you part 4 or wha ♯┆w/c 1.7k ♯┆cw mildly suggestive, body image ♯┆genre fluff + angst, no happiness for bro😭🙏 ♯┆a/n tysm for requesting!! cute theme but there’s nothing cute about this i love this divider why is it adorable 😭 2am, I didn’t edit properly 😭

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⚝・┆ Jonggun loves when you let him rest his head upon your chest, wrapping his arms around you as he basks in the love he never was able to receive while growing up. The warmth of your kisses resonates inside of him, as it allows him to finally lower the guards he was taught to always put up, resting in your arms like a baby. How selfish were this clan to punish a little black kitty like him? How he curls up in your arms and kisses you with a small, playful smile on his lips, you can’t imagine someone doing that to him. Those charcoal eyes that were taught to intimidate and glare with disinterest, showing a hint of sparkle that left you with hope. I’m sorry, Gun. You know it’s not your fault, yet a hint of guilt rests inside you.

⚝・┆ Very traditional. Your wedding will be one of luxury, expensive wine and the sort. He’ll make sure it’s the most grand day of your life, spending it with you with a smile plastered on his face. He showers you with kisses, despite the fact the venue seems to be quite empty. Gun has never had much friends and family, apart from Goo, yet you had the world. It didn’t take long for him to feel jealous that you had so many people to care about, while he lay in the middle of the night with tears and choked sobs, with no contacts on his phone to call. Except yours. You knew he felt this way, you could see it written on his face. Of course you could tell, you were his fiance, no, wife, after all. That’s why you were here to distract him from it all - you wanted to be the person he would call first when he needed it most. The person by his side to the end of his days he spent together with you in happiness.

Perhaps that’s why you said ‘yes’ to that ring, engraved with yours and his initials. Ms. Yamazaki. That name written on your legal documents made you smile. That man, made you smile, cry and laugh everyday.

⚝・┆ Gun reminds you so much of a little black kitty. Black cats are filigrane and intelligent, affectionate yet keep their keen personality, perceptive of their surroundings. They’re good-natured and calm, tolerant of others. Loving and they love to cuddle and play, and are introverted creatures. On the other hand, a black cat is often associated with bad luck, and death. Bad luck, and death. Maybe it was all inevitable. First, his cousin, his dad and his mother. Death runs in the family, so shall he loose you too? Will you also die at the hands of a selfish, idealistic man, too? No, it’s a thought he can’t bear to let occupy his mind anymore, yet there’s nowhere to blow the steam. After all, it’s better not to worry you and silence all these conflicting thoughts. Shoved to the back of his mind, they bubble to the front uninvited, swarming around his head like bees to honey. On a fun note, these cats spend more time in solace and being philosophical. Spending time in solace will stop the bad luck he emits from spreading, right? But then why cant he keep himself away from you. The bad luck he was born with will spread like the plague, just like it did to his family. Knowing this, he loves you too much to let you go. It’s another one of his selfish wishes, isn’t it?

⚝・┆ He wants to experience the world as you see it — stargazing, food, TV shows. Jonggun just wants to see the world with you after struggling with himself for so long. Being born left him with a cruel fate ahead, and he explored what his parents left him with such tears then left him almost apathetic. Life had no meaning left until, cheesy enough, he met you. Gun never fails to remind how much of an impact you’ve had on him, reminding you how much he values you. Just looking at his baby pictures leaves you with a feeling you can’t put into words. Is it guilt, anger or remorse? Why do you feel so guilty you couldn’t be there to shield him from this cruel world? It pains you how inevitable the world is.

⚝・┆ He loves caring for you, making sure you never had to lift a finger. Jonggun never had someone to properly care him mentally as a child, so if he could let you sit back and relax, and treat you how he wished he were treated, he would pour his heart into it all. He’d never want you to experience the loneliness and pure grief he once experienced, even if he’d never admit how much it meant to him.

⚝・┆ Personally I believe he’s a hands-on kind of guy, although he’d never admit it. Delicate kisses upon your lips, hands around you while he stares ever so lovingly into your eyes. His charcoal-like eyes that was made to scrutinise and intimidate, was now experience true love. Love that he’s never experienced like this before, that now he’s willing to comprehend such a new topic, giving it his all if it’s for you. His hands are always resting upon your body, lips always nearing yours as his eyes are practically unable to stop tracking them. When you speak, they watch every parting and shaping as you arrange words, just wanting to shut you up with a passionate kiss. Jonggun just wants to hold you in his arms, feeling your warm breath upon his neck as he tangles his fingers within your hair. Is that so selfish to ask?

⚝・┆To him it’s so strange how he’s so smitten with you. To others, he’d act so cold and secretive, only dispensing bitter stares and passive aggressive gestures with remarks that make anyone furious. When he looks at you, he’s unable to hold back a smile, eyes sparking with the warmth of his heartbeat increasing. Suddenly, he can tolerate the momentum of someone’s endless talking and continuous energy, constant need for attention and the warmth of their body against his own. Jonggun has always hated being touched, yet when it came to you, he can’t even keep himself away.

⚝・┆When he first caught feelings for you, he was the first to deny it. Got so many years he’s learnt to push back these emotions, making way only for the passion of fighting, and your first to not encourage him to do so. You’re the first to kiss him like you mean it, cradle him in your arms while you whisper sweet nothings. It wasn’t long until he caught feelings. And it wasn’t long until he couldn’t accept the truth. When he was around you, he noticed hos heart beating faster than usual, with a feeling he couldn’t just figure out. A smile always snuck upon his lips, however he wouldn’t notice until you’d say his smile is so cute and he should wear it more often, to which he’d blush and cover his face. In the rare occasion your hands would even brush against the others, he wouldn’t help but scowl and face the other way, imagining all types of possibilities. What if he held your hand, how would you react? What if he told you he’s loved you all this time? Loved the way you smile, talk, walk.. would you hate him after that? It’s such a new yet blissful feeling inside him, that he wants to blurt out, but something inside is stopping him - the fear of rejection. The overwhelming looming feeling of you ruthlessly rejecting him stabs him in the heart like a sharp knife.

⚝・┆Jonggun is the type to embrace your every curve, praising your body as if you were a goddess. Let it not be that he finds out you’re insecure about a certain part of your body — stretch marks, the way your hip dips, overweight or underweight, the list continues — because he’ll almost faint from the shock. He loves every part of you, and he wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. So seeing you so hooked on a particular part of your body, wishing you could change yourself, hes frustrated.

His hands run down your body, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“I love you, each and every part of you. You’re beautiful. You’re my ideal woman, and I don’t care what anybody else thinks.” Gun whispers into your ear, playfully biting upon it. When his calloused fingers reaches back up to your hips, he pauses. “Please. Don’t tell yourself otherwise. Your beauty is one of Aphrodites.”

“But I hate the way it looks.” You murmur closing your eyes, unable to bear the sight the unforgiving mirror reflects upon you. That body of yours, you hated it. From head to toe, you wished you could be somebody else. Anybody else, and their body would look better than the one so selfishly put on you from birth. Being in this skin made you want to peel it all off, stitching scientifically made plastic onto your skin to be the Marilyn Monroe of your dreams.

Jonggun turns your chin to look at him, cupping your cheek in his hand. “I find you beautiful. I love the way your curves fit in my palm, the way your skin feels against mine, you hear me?”

He turns you around, leading you onto the mattress, positioning himself in between your thighs. Gun’s lands upon your breasts. Your body sinks into the sheets, eyes fixated on his movements. He looks down upon you with an almost sorrowful face, eyebrows curled into one of worry, lips pouting like a dog who can’t find its human. In all honesty, he’s upset. Why can’t you love yourself as much as he loves you? This body of yours is so delicate, that he loves exploring and splaying his hands all over. It’s like a statue made to admire and inspire. Your body is a temple, from head to toe we were all made as perfect. It tears him apart

“There’s so need to be insecure, I love your shoulders..,” they move further down to your hips. “I love the way I can hold onto these when I make love with you. I move the way my hands wrap around you. It’s as if your body was made to fit into my palms.”

“Please,” he begs, placing kisses upon your cheeks, all leading to your lips, eager for his touch. “I want you to.. love yourself, as much I love you. You have no, no fucking clue how much I value you. That pretty face of yours..” He murmurs, a chocked sob escaping him. Jonggun’s better than this, to cry over such a rivial matter. Yet the impact burned through him, reaching his darkest crevices. He needs you, and he doesn’t want to admit it. How come, after always being so apathetic, has he came so sympathetic to another human being, even weeping pathetically for them? For crying out loud, please. Let yourself be you, you’re not the girls on the television, you’re so much better than them.

[ailurostheendless]

Now that i think about It genuinely makes me anxious and sad knowing that they weren't in season 1 meaning in original timeline something happened after 1938. They either were killed or had to go away for some reason because you can see they really were loyal and adored Rang as their leader. Even complimenting Lee Rang as a leader who unlike other leaders treated them equally with what they get. So I imagine something really bad must have happened since Rang seems to be alone and didn't want anyone around him and it seemed like it had been years since he's been alone, Yuri had been in Rang's life around 5 year so I think probably soon after 1938 he lost the bandit in orginal timeline. What i think is they died due to some conflict or some reasons why Rang in season 1 seemed more vary of caring for anyone. Like he rescued the dog in season 1 and Yuri but wanted them to go away after he rescued then because he knows the pain of loosing and didn't want to be weak again and responsible for again releasing from their pain from his own hands (which seeing the end of season 1 where he had to kill Yeon all the more worse for him I'm surprised he didn't just k*ll himself with all the suicidal tendencies but then again technically he did since he gave away his life for Yeon). The puppy he rescued definitely reminds him of his own puppy he had to kill as a kid because of the pain it was in the mountain fire human put and was reluctant to keep Yuri around after rescuing her in both of fear and probably experienced loosing the bandit group horribly most likely and also because since the contractor was around with life debt on Rang he didn't want Yuri to be dragged in. Which makes sense because Yuri barely knew anything related to Rang and his life contractor she wasn't around or involved with Imoogi until she wanted to rescue Rang from a fatal injury. There's also that there is good chance the contractor had something to do with keeping Rang alone. Did he have a hand in Rang loosing the bandit either killed or maybe being driven away by the contractor and the contractor uses that to manipulate Rang more.

Honestly the original timeline seems so grim for Rang I'm honestly more curious what else happened when Yeon wasn't around Rang because there's a lot tha happened to Rang during Yeon's absence like after the Mountain was in fire and then there's a huge time skip of him killing people mechanically? Like he's not even himself? Why wait so long to kill the villagers? Something clearly happened to trigger him but we don't know.

Where was he ? How was he surviving? Was anyone with him? And the contractor was suspiciously on time to find a dying Rang even though Yeon thinks Rang survived because he missed Rang's vital point but Rang only survived due to the contractor finding him right on time to use cherry tree soul fruit to save his life putting him in life contractor. I wish at least in season 3 they explore that because we know Rang hates showing weakness and likley didn't tell Yeon. Because for him what's important is Yeon tried to not kill him then (which is depressing really)

Meaning the contractor knew ? Was he following Rang the entire time ? Did he do something to push Rang to kill? Did he know Yeon would miss the mark but fail to save Rang and use that to save Rang himself to kill? Is that why Yeon wasn't able to find Rang once his punishment was done?

Anyways so many questions around Rang's whereabouts. Honestly i would love to see a sequel series of original timeline and what transpired whenever he was alone after the mountain burned down. I want to see everything from then to present times without bigger plotholes to make the ml look better please. Like God the more seasons we get i honestly just have more questions on what happened to Rang in original timeline.

This moment in the second episode made me laugh out loud. 

The relationship Lee Rang has with his gang makes me weirdly proud of him. He felt abandoned but managed to find a group of people to surround himself with.

[dilf-docs]

Hello! I love what you write it’s amazing! ✨

Can I request an Eddie Brock one where the reader is her neighbor and they are pretty close and she’s in love with him but he’s still obsessed with Anne, and one day she sees him really sad (about Anne) and invites him to see her band and she starts playing (The one- The Warning) and idk something interesting happens:0

Take A Chance On Me

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: being in a relationship with eddie is a bliss! except for when he mourns his ex relationship with anne, which unfortunately, seems to be pretty much all the time. in the middle of all that sulking, you come up with an idea. will you be able to make him choose you this time?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, situationship lol, so angst!!, sunshine!reader x grumpy!eddie (he's still mopping around), hurt/comfort, exhibition kink, fingering, oral (f. receiving), p. in v., riding, creampie, you can tell i've been listening to ABBA ijbol, no venom :(

word count: 4,394 words

side note: hi, tysm for requesting! since this request is very specific lol but has similar themes to my previous eddie work i decided to make it as a follow-up in the neighbours au; not a series yet but it was an interesting idea to add to their dynamic!!! hope you like it <3 in case you wanna read the previous part for context as to where this two are it's here

Ever since that night, your relationship with Eddie has grown. Hell, you may say you're a day away from being official any time.

And there are time's when you're so sure of it, like when he stops by your apartment and kisses you like there's no one else in the world; to later make you come hard with the lights off (hey! you gotta start a tradition or two).

But there are other times when you knock on his door and he doesn't open, only for you to use your spare key, finding the room scented with empty bottles, your neighbor mumbling something like Anne through his sad pouty lips.

Yes, Anne. A name that makes you seethe like it burns; a ghost that haunts the spaces of silence where Eddie seems to doubt what the hell is he doing: why is he there―with you.

Your heart feels heavy, and it feels sort of pathetic that it's his hurting what hurts you the most. In the end, things are like this: you love helping people, your empathy may be infinite and you're sure you've never loved anyone like you love Eddie Brock before.

So it's this combination of things that makes you take the following decision, hoping to make him pass the page, so whenever he gets drunk again, all his lips will ever whisper is your name over and over again; that his sadness belongs to him, and not the only person that seems to be keeping you away from your happy ending, even if they don't know about it.

To Eddie, you're the sweetest thing in the world. Nobody kisses like you do, hugs with the tightness you do, loves as much as you do, fucks as good as you do or bakes killer cookies like yours.

That list does nothing but grow, as he is constantly mesmerized by every new little thing he learns about you: your favorite movies, the new recipes you try (he's more than happy to beta taste them for you), the way you sing (you do have a good voice that made him squirm at the other secret talent you had) and your kindness, which has done more hurt than good lately: because Eddie can't fathom the idea of you, taking care of him during his sad drunken mopping nights, while listening to everything about Anne on repeat.

He knows it hurts you, that he's starting to create creaks in your relationship, the hope slowly fading away from your eyes each passing day, doubts creeping up your smile, erasing that shiny beautiful light of yours; it's the only thing stopping him from calling you his girlfriend, and still, he can't stop.

It's like a vice at this point, and he wonders if he'll ever sober out of it.

So today he knocks on your door, hoping to set things straight even if a part of his heart still beats for Anne. It may be selfish, but after you came in his life, he can't imagine it without you.

But when you open up, he's at loss for words.

"Why are you wearing that?"

You scoff. "Hope it's not an offense, judging by your tone"

His eyes roam over your body, and even if you tend to be more on the confident side, you can't help but feel shy. After all, he's never seen you like this before: all glam.

It's a jacket, well his jacket, a small black top and black very short shorts. You surely are playing the part tonight, switching your usual pink and sunflower bubbly style to something more... rock.

"Why?" is all he asks, and you feel obligued to answer. Besides, you were going to knock on his door after getting out, not expecting he did it first. The surprise is ruined, but his incredulous eyes suffice for now.

"So, my friend has this band" you explain, "and they just got sick. The thing is, they had a gig today in a bar where they're regulars, so naturally, cancelling at last minute is not an option"

"And?" you love how oblivious he can be sometimes.

"And, I found a replacement" his face remains blank, so you sigh a little dissapointed but deliver with chirp, "me!"

"You?"

You roll your eyes, "is there a problem?"

"No!" he corrects hastily, "I'm just surprised, that's all. I know you like to sing, and have a good voice! But there's a huge gap between that and well, playing in a gig"

"I know, but I used to have a band when I was in highschool; I'm used to this things"

His mouth falls a bit, and maybe his head starts to cloud with ideas of your clashing new style and angel like voice; or maybe it's you wearing his jacket, a garment of his for you to bear in public: a first. It's a bit stupid and too daydream-ish for his liking, so he blurts:

"I didn't know that"

Your laugh is so light, it feels like wind blowing across a field.

"Oh, Eddie baby" he blushes at the pet name and endearing tone, your voice dropping like it does whenever you want something he's more than willing to give you, "there's a lot you don't know about me"

In the end, you convinced Eddie to join you, who, if you're being honest, didn't need that much convincing.

He was sold just with the idea of seeing you sing, which intrigued him. There's a huge difference in your drunk karaoke nights that annoyed your neighbors and playing live in a gig. Eddie wants to see what you have to offer, and as for you? Well, this is your plan: your plan to make him forget about Anne once and for all.

It may be silly and immature but hey, you're young! It's okay to be wrong and possessive sometimes, and your friend just did you the favor of faking an illness to give you a spot to shine and put that voice of yours to use, that's a bit rusty since your highschool days. So, no pressure! Your potential boyfriend is on the crowd and ruining this would cost your kind friend their job. Good thing your optimism doesn't seem to expire, because Lord! Your hands are trembling and sweaty when you hold a microphone again for the first time in a little more than a decade.

"Hey" you exit out of the curtain, and the dim lights now bright up a little, directing themselves towards you, "good evening"

You hear a bit of muffled voices that sound confused, asking for your friend, and you can tell the crowd are regulars. Yikes.

"I'm here on behalf of Isha. They're sick, so I'm covering just for tonight" you decide to go for a little jokey joke to light up the otherwise judgemental room, that seems to be testing you―like they know all your weak spots; smell your nerves. "So don't like me too much, as I'm a one time thing"

Eddie laughs, but covers it with a cough when he realizes the room is awfully quiet.

"Okay, uh, for tonight's set, I've got a few things prepared" you fumble a bit with the papers where the lyrics are (you've always liked to be a bit old fashioned), like you're clumsy and it's your first time, not reflecting the fact that this idea has been simmering for a while―every song rehearsed and planned. "Songs, I mean, I've got a few songs prepared"

You start with something smooth, which makes people divert their attention back to whatever they were doing. To you, that's a bit dissapointing, but as long as they don't judge and Eddie keeps his eyes on you, you think you can make it.

But what where you really thinking? Being optimistic means you're often let down, as your pink bright ideas end up crushed by the real gray world. And you can handle it―as you're no weak, but resorting to singing a song that feels oddly specific about the situationship you're currently living in hopes of making Eddie forget his ex fiancée and get whooped by your mesmerizing voice is actually kind of crazy!

But yeah, now you're nearing the end of the set list and almost everyone's eyes are on you. Of course, Eddie is the most attentive, taking every word that pours out of your melodic mouth like if he's thirsty, and your voice is the only thing that can help him. He never leaves your silhouette, and it may be you dreaming, but there's something like guilt and love behind his eyes; torn. Yeah, you do feel like you're dreaming, and it's been so long since you felt this alive; you kind of forgot how happy singing made you.

As the crowd is engaged, you find it fitting to make a pause and announce the next song. You know your voice comes out as shaky, but hope people think it's about tiredness and not nerves. Why are you nervous, thought? People love you! It's because this is the final part of your plan: singing this song you used to be obssesed long ago, but now seems to perfectly sum up those raw, angry and vulnerable feelings fo yours you're simply not used to; they say music helps us put a name to that we can't, and that has never been more true.

"For the next song, well, our last song" a few booing echos in the crowd, and you can't believe you made it this far. Maybe Isha did lost their job, "it's called The One, by The Warning. Hope you enjoy"

Eddie's had such a blast tonight, he hasn't noticed the past of time, completely lost when you announce the last song. Among other things he's forgotten, is the fact he was supposed to talk today with you about the future of your relationship.

It's kind of your fault: how can he remain focused with such display in front of him?

The band begins playing, and soon, your voice fills the air:

I'll do anything to make it happen

Tell me your secrets, what are you hiding?

Some people sing along the lyrics, while others just listen attentively. You make it to a part of the song that sounds like:

Can you explain to me what's this feeling?Love it or hate it, it's never leaving. Want to believe, that you feel it too.

Oh, Eddie feels nauseous. The lyrics hit a bit too close to home, and he fills called out in the room of oblivious people.

He can hear your vocals breaking a bit, as raw as he's never heard before. He feels so bad, he's about to make the most ridiculous thing of his life and jump onto the stage to hug you, but he can't interrupt you. So he sits there, palms sweaty and nerves tense.

He's been dumb, but like, really dumb. Of course you know it: how can you not? He swears every morning after, his hangover unbearable, your kindness hurts more than his headache―because there's pain behind your eyes, and he knows you remember more what happened than he did. He feels undeserving of your compassion and all the care you give him, even if you know Eddie's still hung up on Anne.

There is no reason to even doubt it. Please, understand that I am not lying. My heart is true, it beats for you.

How can you still love him? Still root for him? How can you give him your heart knowing a part of his still beats for Anne?

Fantasizing that something might happen, always wishing that I was the one.

He feels torn, because he knows it's you he wants to be with. You're the reason his days have been brighter ever since he lost everything, the reason he smiles whenever his door knocks and why he isn't alone in this sulking anymore. So he hates the fact that he can't heal faster and move on, because that's all that's really stopping him from just being him and you.

Give me something I can feel, I'm too afraid to ask. What is it I need to change, for you to love me back?

He's done mourning but he knows grief doesn't pass in the blink of an eye. But he's sure of it already.

Say that you will really never hurt or leave me. Say it and it will come true. Hold me like you really love me: tell me that you do.

Those three words he's been holding back: afraid of feeling too much in such little time; afraid of thinking he would ever feel his heart beat for anyone else, the confession dripping from his eyes but not past through his sealed mouth.

And I know that I'm not the one on your mind. But still, I will be the one.

The song ends before he's registered, and amid the applauses, you leave the stage, almost running behind the courtain. The band bids goodbye and Eddie finds himself leaving his table and moving onto where the small improvised dressing room is.

He's done pondering. You will be the one.

You didn't plan to rush backstage like that, but tears started to burn in your eyes and it was getting harder to contain them infront of the crowd.

They loved your show, but you feel empty, even if a little relieved. There was a pressure before and now it's gone, but there's a thing that hasn't gone: the doubt.

You wonder if Eddie understood the words you feel like a coward for not voicing, the feelings that threaten to spill like a hot cauldron, the rage burning your throat when he talks about her, like she's all there is in his mind. Then comes the sadness; you can't help but wonder if he will ever choose you.

Tonight, perhaps, is the day all those what-if's will be answered, and their possible answers won't hunt you anymore.

It's like he read your mind, because there's a knock in your door and it's like you have memorized a bit too much of Eddie: the traces of his face―with wrinkles that mark the gaps in your relationship, the loud way in which he eats, the sounds he makes when he rides his bike, especially those when you wrap your arms around his; even the way his knuckles call for you through the door.

You clear your throat, trying to hide your broken voice. "Come in"

Eddie's face pops up, and all you can offer him is a weak smile. "Did you like the show?"

He tries to measure what he's about to say, because he doesn't know where to start, but the glow in his eyes betrays him, so he excitedly says: "It was great! I didn't know you had that in you, baby"

Even the pet name doesn't make the smile reach your eyes. Oh, he's screwed up for sure.

"Thanks" you mutter, small. You hate feeling like this: the last time you did, you were still in middle school. Your kindness was taken for weakness, and you promised yourself you would never let your heart be taken and used again. Yet here you are, hope planting a seed inside of you that's grown into a rose with thorns that pierce your sweet heart whenever it beats for Eddie. But you can't stop: the roots are too deep in you, and you can't find yourself to kill the flower that's bloomed out of this one-sided love.

"Listen, y/n" oh, he's serious. No petname or nothing. Maybe he's finally opened his eyes and realise this fooling-around-thing you've got going on isn't going nowhere; that your new isn't as exciting as it was before, and his heart will never be yours. You'll never be the one.

"Y-yes?" you can't fake it. Your voice cracks, so you avoid looking at him, "tell me, Eddie".

He shouldn't start with that, seeing the way your face fell and body shakes, even though you're sitting.

"Fuck. Baby, no" he coos, getting closer and dropping on his knees, forcing you to look at him by taking your face softly by the chin, "look at me".

When you meet his eyes and they're already glossy, he feels like he deserves a higher punishment than what any physical one could ever accomplish.

"No, no. Shit, I'm sorry" he tries wiping your tears with his thumb, but you keep on crying more. "Ah, fuck"

"Are you done with me?" you ask on a shaky whisper.

Funny saying that when you weren't even a thing. But you can't help and yearn for it; said what first came onto your mind.

"No!" he corrects, so quick and loud it startles you. "What made you think that?"

"The song-" you start blabbering, "No, I'm sorry Eddie, it's my fault. I shouldn't put on a show that's m-more like a tantrum if we're being honest. We're adults and we can talk, for God's sake! That was so immature of me. Let's just forget this and- I don't even know what to do or what to say, just, spare me from walking out or taking the elevator at the same time I do because it's just gonna be so embarrasing- please, if you're gonna break up with me, do it quick-"

He didn't want to, but he feels the need to interrupt your little rant by now.

"Y/n, stop" you feel even more embarrased now. You start to drift a little and begin considering to move out of the country and change your name. "Who said anything about breaking up?"

Ah, you feel stupid. Stupid, but hey! How can you not come to that conclusion? It's both of yours fault.

"Y-you didn't" you whisper, "but-" you try to reason yet the anger and embarrasment is a bit too much.

"I didn't yet I can understand why you'd feel that way" he sighs, "but let me explain, please"

With a nod, you motion him to continue.

"I'm the only one who should be saying sorry. You did nothing wrong, baby; in fact, your little solution to talk out your feelings surprised me a lot. In a good way! You know I love your voice. But anyways, as I was saying, I'm sorry about everything. It's just... it's not fair to you: you've been nothing but sweet, loving and the best girl I've met ever. I feel like I don't deserve you, and after tonight, if you choose not to stay with me, I'll get it. You're worth of much more than a sad, older and bitter nobody" he ends his sad little man speech, and you can't help it but leave your sit and wrap your arms around him, burying your face on his shoulder as you whisper lovingly on his ear:

"I know, Eddie" you stroke his hair gently, "but I'm not leaving you. Never"

He lets himself sink into your embrace, the perfume and sweat such an intoxicating smell, he's drowning in your scent already.

"Good" his voice turns husky, dropping an octave. The hard on his jeans doesn't go unnoticed, "because I wanted to give my rockstar a reward"

You laugh, and he feels better seeing you smile.

"Seriously, Eddie? How can you go from vulnerable to horny?"

"Both are states of vulnerable!" he defends, "besides, tell me that you don't want it" he motions for you to stand against the dresser, your back against the mirror, goosebumps in your skin when it touches the cool surface.

Eddie grips the flesh of exposed skin your shorts show, leaving a trail of kisses against the bare tights. He pulls them off, and you gasp out a contained moan.

"Someone c-could find us, Eddie"

He growls, his head in between your legs, the panties blocking him from your pulsating cunt. "Let them" he pronounces it so deliciously, you find it hard to resist the panic of being found; Isha will kill you if they found out, but hey, the plan was to get back with Eddie so in the end, it worked, right? Can't get mad at that.

The panties come off with a yank, and you can barely ask if he locked the door before his tongue gives the exposed dripping folds a generous lick. You arch your back at the pleasure that runs through you.

"Mpmh, Eddie" you groan, feeling his slow but steady movements. Your breathe comes out ragged, more when he uses his thumb to caresses the sensible zone with fast circles, making you cum with a cry, yet it muffles inside his mouth that captures your lips in a kiss.

You can taste yourself in his lips, but let him devour your mouth.

"Want more?" Eddie groans against your mouth, his fingers going inside you, softly touching the entrance. You moan against his lips, moving your hips greedily in response.

"Yes" you moan out, making him chuckle.

"Seems I'm not the only horny one here, baby" he mocks, "are you that needy?"

You huff out, annoyed at the accusation.

"Don't worry, you and I both know we love to help each other out" his voice is soft, "besides, it's been a stressful day for us, hasn't it. Let me make you feel better, baby"

His hand travels inside you, his middle and forefinger sliding lazily into you. You tense up, feeling him touch your clit, his fingertips stroking over sensitive tissues. He can see the mirror fogging, and if he didn't have his head in between your legs, he'd probably see his face full of your juices.

"Shit" his voice comes out of his chest, sounding rather gutural and animalistic. "God, how wet you feel, baby"

You mewl. But it's not enough, his fingers falling short: you need to feel all of him. Now.

"Eddie" you beg in need, "please".

"Please what?"

Your hands travel to his pants, undoing his jeans. His large palm stops you before you can reach his underwear.

"Say your words, baby" he taunts, and you hate the way your neediness leaks from in between your tights.

"Just... I need you, Eddie"

He gets rid of the jeans by himself, and you stroke his member covered by the fabric. You get rid of it too, and the next thing is your mouth saying: "I want to ride you"

Even in his haze, he reacts a bit, looking around the room.

"There" you point the chair you were sitting previously on.

He sits down, obeying without a word. You come close, gripping his member firmly in your hand. You pump from the bottom to the top, making him roll his eyes and throw his body back from the pleasure.

His eyes go blank as you sit over his dick, already leaking with pre-cum. Eddie grabs you by the hips, the veins on his arms more notorious, some tattoos popping up like they are 3D.

"You're beautiful" he mutters, and you feel like giving him a reward: so you grab his dick with your hand as his grip gets tighter.

He presses his tip against your fold, side to side, like if he was painting your tight walls with his juices.

He pushes the first centimeter inside, and as soon as you stretch out for him, he starts thrusting, getting a whimper out of you.

"Fuck" he curses, deep inside you. His body shakes, and you feel every single vibration provoked by the friction. You feel dizzy as you go up and down, the rhythm delicious. He keeps moving, his hips doing a circle, all to feel more of you.

"You feel so good, baby" he praises, in ecstasy. You keep moving up and down, covering his long. You bite back a moan, "might end up helping me more than I was going to help you"

He's fucking you silly, and your mind goes blank, so after the thrusts and his confession from before, you dizzy out:

"Everything is for you, Eddie; just for you. You're the only one who can make me feel like this"

"How does it feel?" he asks in a whisper against your ear, his thrusting getting sloppier.

"Feels so good"

"As good as you feel" he moans out, his breathe whistling through his gritted teeth. Your ads bounces against his tights, the sound of skin clapping in the tiny room a very obscene echo. "C'mon, baby. Make me cum"

You tighten with the plea: tights, stomach and ass. Your core is swollen, burning with each new thrust. Eddie keeps you tight as profound as his strong arms can; there'll be a bruise tomorrow.

He pushes all his length inside, keeping you open so he can bury himself deep in you, with strong thrusts against your shaky cunt. His jawline tenses, painfully close to his orgasm.

Your voice comes out muffled, "Harder".

It's funny how no one has even checked the room. No knock, nothing. You suppose they all went out their way when they saw you about to burst in tears, to give you space, a space you're pretty thankful for now.

"You're mine" he rests his forehead against yours, "say it"

His hips shake as you pronounce, "only yours, Eddie"

You can't contain it any longer. There's relief after the intense orgasm that shakes every bone in your body, overestimulation when you feel him cum inside of you, thick shots painting your swollen walls.

You let yourself fall into his arms, the chair creaking with all the weight. Sweat glistens as you try to get your breathe back, your heart beating so fast you fear you'll have a heart attack.

"Tell you a secret?" you hum tiredly against his shoulder, resting your head in it as his long thick fingers comb through your damp hair. You can't believe your plan made it this far, but since you're still in the haze, you can only nod and hum.

He gets closer to you, his hot breathe tickling your ear.

"You're the one, y/n" your heart beats even faster, and you hide your face against his hot skin so he doesn't see the new tears that are forming in your eyes: they're happy tears. "I love you"

Is this is a signal to sing and not voice out your problems? Who knows, maybe next time, if you sing Money Money Money by ABBA, you won't be so broke.

[llamaisllama777]

I Wanna talk about today's LAES episode!

Okay, I loved this episode and am pleasantly surprised by how mature most of them handled this, especially Lunar and Moon. Lunar knows he messed up, and he really has no excuse for what he did. He made a dumb mistake with MAJOR repercussions. He takes his punishment like a man and accepts it won't be easy to earn everyone's forgiveness, and it's up to Earth if she wants to forgive Lunar or not and that's fair.

Monty and Moon are rightly mad at Lunar, and while I think Monty shouldn't threaten to punch Lunar, it's entirely fair. That's just who Monty is. He's an angry guy and doesn't like it when people hurt people he cares about, so while he shouldn't have threatened Lunar, it is to be expected. Monty loves Earth. She's one of the best things that ever happened to him, and he adores her and hates seeing her get hurt and betrayed... again. While yes, it was an accident, it was a very poorly and badly timed accident.

We don't know if Earth is gonna be okay.

-Best case scenarios

They get all the negative star power out of her and she's back to her old self again

Or she's fine, but she just feels numb like Monty's arm did for like five months.

-WORST case scenario

She dies.

Monty has all the right in the world to be mad. Everyone here does. Lunar could have killed Earth! Or hurt Moon, or Jack, or Dazzle. They have all right to be mad!

I'm glad all of them still care for Lunar and still see him as a brother and don't want anything bad to happen to him. I'm proud of Moon despite the fact that he was very hurt by Lunar's words he still loves him. If this had been how OLD old Moon he would have torn Lunar to shreds verbally... and then maybe physically.

I'm proud he's grown from his angry past.

Sun and Solar seem the most sad to kick Lunar out, but they understand his actions NEED to have consequences.

I've seen some people say that it's not fair for them to kick out Lunar and say he's dangerous...

Guys... HE IS. Lunar is basically a walking BOMB!

Yes, Monty has access to dangerous weapons, and so does Solar and Moon... but they keep those away from Earth in places she won't find them or get hurt by them.

Sun has magic.... he can control it.

(when he's not having a nightmare)

While everyone in that room is dangerous, they're all careful. Lunar wasn't.

So, now he has to face the consequences. It's sad to see Lunar be separated from his family and still have no idea who he is or what he's supposed to be... but who knows, maybe this is what Lunar needs. Plus, if Lunar doesn't want to stay in THIS universe, I can think of one universe that could be a big help to him...

*Cough! Eclipse and Puppet's! Cough!*

This could be the first step in the right direction.

I get why people are upset at the Celestial family and Monty for kicking out Lunar... BUT I can't argue that they didn't do anything wrong. I think the Celestial did the right thing.

Actions have consequences both GOOD and BAD.

Also... does anyone else think Lunar's apartment reminds them of Peter Parker's from the Tobey Maguire Spider-man movies and Spider-man No way home. It just gives me that vibe.

Also... I feel SO BAD for Earth!

The girl has been betrayed by

-Her father

-Her brother (Nexus)

-Monty for not telling Earth about his crimes (They worked that out)

-And now Lunar!

Girl probably gonna have trust issues after this.