#and you can /call/ natural disasters to you and have them show up as.... how he shows up: no change. nothing happening. what you expect.

[abyssalpriest]

Usual "what others do isn't my business, my blogs are diaries and I'm allowed to have thoughts without telling others what to do" disclaimer

I'm getting so irritated for personal reasons (building storm, memories, personal disagreements with how this time and place in history treats gods, etc) with the lack of connection the average most connected people have to gods nowadays. I feel like at some point if you want to connect with, bond with, Lev and make him a part of your life you should at least once do trancework dances with him, or some other means of total body possession or an attempt at it and/or merging consciousness and eyes briefly

Hes such a hands on god and to an extent he will mirror you, less in terms of his nature being mirroring but more so because he will put in what you put in. If you give him distant love and distant channelling, treating him like the moon: something you know always has an effect on the waters of your life and something you revere but rarely see and keep in the distant sky... you'll get that. You'll get him directing you and stepping in like a stern and - examples don't matter honestly. Lev will pretty much always be cordial and roleplay the god you want in your life, but at the end of the day you'll always just be serving a distant purpose if you just set up an altar and keep him distant with distancing prayers

To actually bond with him... Things like drums and dancing, actually understanding That Which Makes The Waters Dance, actually understanding the Lord of Consciousness as ever-permeating... If you want to understand him you need to feel him, because he understands through feeling and being. Take a session of intense drumming and throwing yourself into a trance to actually understand the way he makes your body move, to feel the waters of your own body - blood, cerebrospinal fluid, semen, tears, saliva, whatever you have inside you - flow and move into place. Understand the mind of the Sky itself

Take something guided by him - theres so many reasons he's heavily associated with cannabis and alcohol - move yourself into his sphere, cross the boundaries between you. Throw yourself into the black of the sky and you'll find it's water.

There's so many things that forge actual bond with him. The Earth-Shaker doesn't move the Earth in Christian-esque rituals of praying to hollow temples and ringing gentle bells, he's the force that aligns your blood flow with beats in music, the beat itself, he's the drumming of hooves across the earth that tear into it and reorganise it, the wild horses that eat flesh alongside the wolves, the black dogs seeping through the veins in creation, the animal awareness peaking like bloodlust in the rutting deer... You absolutely can sit there meeting him in fancy robes in front of an altar where he commands you like a father or a god-husband but... again. i suggest anyone looking to actually work with him has at least one moment where the Sun itself burns a hole through your ignorance (ignorance is something we all have, we all wear) and shines its blinding light on your consciousness so that you have an atemporal space of connection to him from then on

[justanotherbirdbrain-blog]

Geology of Natural Disasters and How to write them into your fictional universe.

So, you want to write about a natural disaster to advance your plot and torture your players/characters even more? Let me tell you how, accurately.

I feel like unless it is a volcano, natural disasters are a pretty slept on plot drivers, and some of them are really cool and unique! Today, I will talk to you about land slides, earthquakes (And earthquake related disasters), and volcanoes.

Landslides: Probably one I see the least in stories, but one that would be incredibly interesting to write into a plot where they believe in curses. Landslides can happen along ocean bluffs, slightly hilly areas, and highly mountainous areas, this means it is something that can happen in most landscapes. But what can trigger a landslide? Mostly all you need to trigger a landslide could be just abnormally large amounts of rain, excessive deforestation (with a little bit of rain), or an earthquake. If you don't want to use deforestation or an earthquake as a catalyst, a really cool indicator that the land is slipping and may be prone to a collapse is J hooked trees.

This indicates that there is soil creeping slowly over time, and it may lead to a major landslide.

2. Earthquakes: Probably one of the easiest things to write, earthquakes can happen anywhere, but they are most common in places that are tectonically active areas. There are about three types of environments you can expect earthquakes to be common. The first is just rugged mountains, if your landscape looks like this, you should write in earthquakes. Associated hazards could be landslides, avalanches, and large falling rocks.

The next landscape could be a thin mountain range, next to the ocean, very scenic, but very dangerous. Essentially, I am describing a subduction zone environment.

Earthquakes in these areas could equal a couple different associated disasters. Scenario one: A very large earthquake happens, and the ocean begins to recede. This is a tsunami, enough said. If you are writing a tsunami though, please, please, do not write it as a large wave, thank you. Also, a common way people are hurt by tsunami's are from them going into the ocean because they don't understand a tsunami is going to happen.

Scenario two: A large earthquake happens, your characters are in a valley and suddenly the ground begins to liquify as the ground shakes, once the shaking stops, the ground becomes solid like nothing ever happened, except everything has suddenly sunk into the now hard ground. This is called liquefaction and it typically happens in areas that have loose dirt or lots of saturated soil.

Scenario three: There are a lot of small earthquakes, they do not cause a lot of damage, but you begin to notice that one of the isolated mountains has a plume rising. Earthquakes can indicate lava moving underground and the filling of magma chambers.

The next environment that can host lots of earthquakes would be regions that have a lot of really deep valleys and small mountain ranges (not cone volcanoes), but overall seems pretty flat.

This indicates a transform fault like the San Andreas. If you want to hint at there being earthquakes in the area, you can show fence posts that are suddenly several feet out of line at a dilapidated farm or something similar.

(These earthquakes are different because they are cased from sideways movement, not an up-and-down movement this hint can only be used for this environment). Volcanoes would not be found here, but liquefaction and landslides could still occur here.

4. Volcanoes: If you thought earthquakes had a lot of information, volcanoes do too. First you have to ask yourself, what kind of volcano you want to have, what kind of eruption style? So lets break down the kind of eruptions you can have and what their landscapes look like. Hawaiian Shield volcano: This will produce a smooth fast lava, the landscape typically is pretty flat, but there will be small cones and the rocks can have a ropey or jagged texture and the rocks will be almost exclusively black to dark red.

Stratovolcanoes: These will be solitary mountains, typically, that look like perfect cones (Picture shown in earthquake section). These will have large ash cloud eruptions and pyroclastic flows, they may have some lava, but typically most damage is done from the pyroclastic flows (think Pompeii). Some hints of these, other than describing the cone features (which can be hidden by other mountains), would be to talk about petrified wood! Trees can get fossilized in the ash and I imagine it would be very strange to find this rock that clearly looks to be a piece of wood, but its a rock. Subcategory- Calderas: Used to be a large stratovolcano, but they erupt so explosively that the entire cone collapses and creates a basin.

There are a lot of kinds of volcanoes out there, so forgive me for just putting an infographic and then talking to you about these really rare types of eruptions that I feel like people should know about.

Okay lets talk about blue lava (kind of) and black lava

You will notice the lava is still red in the middle of this image, during the day these would look like a normal eruption, but at night the burning sulfur would make it appear blue. Some cool features other than this, would be that any water in the area would become very acidic and burn the skin due to sulfuric acid. This would again be really cool if you are trying to describe a 'cursed' land.

Black lava: This happens only in the east African rift I believe, but it is a carbonatite lava, but if you are writing in a rift valley (where the continent is tearing apart to form a new ocean) this might be a cool feature. The lava will cool white and will quickly erode, it makes for a very alien landscape!

Anyway as always, this is supposed to be an introductive guide for the basics of writing geology to create cool landscapes/features into dnd or fictional universes, if you are a geologist please understand my oversimplification of tectonics, I didn't want people to run away.

[tender-rosiey]

hello, love! i hope you're doing great! i love reading your works and thank you so much for writing such beautiful pieces 🫶🏻

soooo... i was thinking of making a request! i'm not sure if you've written about this or not and please feel free to ignore it if you're uncomfortable with writing it or if you've already written it but here's the request:

satoru with newborn twin daughters 🥹

i noticed that there are almost no twin dad gojo fics and we already know that he's a girl dad. plus, i love your writing style. hence this thought. again, thank you so much for your hard work, rose! stay hydrated and have a great day! byeeee!

twin girls (and gojo ig) — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: i cant believe it took me like 7 months to finally post this; i am so sorry 🙏 BUT i am so so happy that you like my works and srsly thank you for your sweet words. they mean the world 🥹 hope that you like this as well! have a wonderful day!! 🫶🫶

the only thing worse than having one girl you can’t say no to is having two.

add to that the fact that satoru is already a softie when it comes to his daughters, and it’s a recipe for disaster—if you’re not there to intervene.

"papa, I want a dress!" one of your twins looks up at satoru with wide, sparkling eyes, her hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

her sister quickly chimes in, her voice a little shyer but just as determined. "I-I want a dress too, papa!"

satoru crouches down to their level, hands on his knees as he looks between his two little girls, his white hair falling messily into his eyes.

“two dresses, huh?” his voice takes on a faux-serious tone. “what kind of dresses are we talking about?”

“sparkly!”

“twirly!”

“pink!”

“blue!”

their voices rise with excitement, and satoru’s grin only grows wider as he listens, nodding as though their demands are being carefully cataloged in his mind.

you can’t help but smile from the doorway, watching the scene unfold. his enthusiasm when it comes to them is both endearing and ridiculous.

"satoru," you call out, interrupting his train of thought. your arms are crossed, and a teasing smile plays on your lips. "we agreed they only need one dress each, remember?"

he turns toward you with a playful pout, the twins following his gaze.

“they’re my princesses, wifey! how can I deny them a little extra sparkle?” he says, completely unbothered by the parental negotiations you both agreed on just yesterday.

you raise an eyebrow, taking a few steps closer and placing a hand on his arm. “you’ll be sleeping on the couch if they come home with more than one each.”

satoru's expression shifts immediately, an exaggerated look of surrender plastered on his face as he straightens up, holding up his hands. "alright, alright. one dress each. promise."

later that evening, when you return home, your twin girls are twirling around in front of you in two dresses each—one sparkly, one twirly, naturally.

your gaze falls on satoru, who stands casually leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, whistling as if he’d done nothing wrong.

“satoru,” you pout, “I thought we had an agreement.”

he gives you a cheeky grin and a shrug, completely unbothered. “they were on sale,” he says as if that justifies everything.

the girls, oblivious to your exasperation, giggle and show off their new outfits, spinning around in excitement.

"mama, look! don't we look pretty?"

"yeah, mama! we look pretty, right?"

you press your lips into a thin line, but the fondness in your eyes betrays you. you sigh and ruffle their hair, "yes, very pretty, both of you."

the girls squeal in happiness and run around the house in their excitement. your husband nudges your arm gently with a teasing smile. you quirk an eyebrow before pushing him away with a chuckle.

you can never deny that you love seeing them so happy, even if it means satoru has bent the rules—again.

of course, life with your husband and your twin girls is a whirlwind. even bedtime is an adventure (read: a battle).

one night, the girls are bouncing off the walls in their matching pajamas, their giggles filling the room as they run circles around satoru, who’s sitting at the edge of the bed, utterly failing to get them under control.

"alright, time to settle down," he says, his tone light but lacking any real authority. the girls shake their heads as their dad is simply not cut out to be the strict parent in their eyes.

however, when he opens his arms, one of the girls takes the chance to climb his lap. his hand ruffles her hair, and she hums happily .

"papa, can we have three stories tonight?" the twin on his lap asks, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

her sister, not wanting to miss out, rushes over and clings to his other arm. "no! I want four stories!"

satoru sighs dramatically, glancing over at you for backup. you are sitting like the boss you are on the loveseat in the room. you look up when you feel your husband's eyes on you.

“they only get one story,” you remind him, trying not to laugh at his predicament.

satoru looks between the two girls, their wide eyes fixed on him. “alright, alright,” he finally concedes, holding up two fingers. “two stories. that’s my final offer.”

he hears you groan, and his heart breaks at disappointing you, but he can’t just say no to them. the twins cheer as if they’ve won a war, grabbing their favorite books from the bedside table.

it takes you a few moments before you smile helplessly as you watch him negotiate with them like it’s a high-stakes sorcery mission. it's not long before your daughters fall asleep. satoru's voice has always been comfort incarnate for them.

"you’re too soft," you tease as you walk over to him, pinching his nose��he yelps as quietly as he can, so you plant a soft kiss on his temple.

he leans into your touch for a moment, closing his eyes. "can’t help it," he mutters, "they’ve got your charm.”

afternoons are no less chaotic, especially at the park, where the twins drag satoru toward the swings, their little hands gripping his fingers as they bounce excitedly.

"papa, push me higher!" one demands, already settling onto the swing.

"me too! higher!" her sister echoes, scrambling onto the swing beside her.

satoru stands behind them, cracking his knuckles.

“higher, huh? I think I can manage that.” he gives the first swing a firm push, sending one of the twins soaring up, her laughter filling the air.

you sit on the third swing, smiling at the scene.

satoru looks over at you, his grin softening as his eyes meet yours. the way their laughter fills the atmosphere fills your heart, and you can tell that satoru feels the same.

at least, until he decides to push you and make you take full 360s on the swing.

“wow, mama is swinging!”

“in a circle!”

“satoru, I will kill you!!”

"waiting for that, wifey!"

dinner, as always, is an ongoing fight. tonight, the twins are in full protest mode against their vegetables.

"I don’t like broccoli," one twin pouts, pushing her plate away.

"me neither," her sister adds, crossing her arms as if this decision has been made final.

satoru, ever their ally in mischief, leans back in his chair, his expression far too relaxed. "well, I guess no one’s eating broccoli tonight," he says, clearly enjoying this little act of rebellion.

while you're proud of your girls backing each other up, you rather it not be right now. you shoot satoru a warning glance, shaking your head with a sigh. "they need to eat their veggies, satoru."

he shrugs, smirking lazily as he glances at the twins. “they’re gojo kids. I think they’ll survive without a little broccoli.”

the twins giggle, clearly siding with him. but you know how to play this game too; otherwise, you would have never been able to handle the man child beside you. “okay, fine,” you say with a sly smile. “no dessert if they don’t eat their veggies.”

the girls’ eyes go wide in horror, and they quickly turn to their father, their last hope. “papa, no! we want dessert!”

caught between you and the twins, satoru sighs dramatically, like he’s being asked to sacrifice everything.

“alright, alright, princesses,” he concedes, hands raised in defeat. “but you’ve gotta eat the broccoli if you want dessert. we gotta listen to mama.”

the twins reluctantly pick at their plates, eyeing the broccoli with disdain, but determined to make it to dessert.

you exchange a triumphant smile with satoru, who just rolls his eyes playfully.

and in the quieter moments, when the twins are asleep, and it’s just the two of you, he wraps his arms around you, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I don’t know how you do it,” he murmurs softly. “keeping us all in line.”

you smile, leaning into his touch, “someone’s gotta make sure we don’t end up with a house full of sparkly dresses.”

satoru laughs quietly, pulling you closer. “what can I say? I’m weak when it comes to you three.”

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[solxamber]

The Rhythm of Us || Jamil Viper

Through parties, desserts and disasters, you and Jamil find a rhythm that's uniquely your own.

1k Masterlist ; Prologue

w.c. 4.5k

Jamil’s voice is calm when he answers your call, though there’s a slight edge of surprise that he can’t quite hide.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Jamil,” you begin, already smiling as you sit cross-legged on your bed. “I was thinking about your offer earlier, and I’d love to get lunch with you tomorrow.”

There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a soft, almost imperceptible intake of breath. “Oh. That’s great,” he says quickly, the surprise in his voice replaced by his usual measured tone. “I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon. Is that okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say.

After hanging up, you can’t help but think he sounded a little pleased, even if he tried not to show it.

The next day, you find him waiting at a quiet spot near the botanical garden. The area is shaded, with a small table set neatly for two, and Jamil stands beside it with his usual cool demeanor. His uniform is impeccable as always, but there’s a certain ease in his posture that puts you at ease too.

“Hey, Jamil!” you call out, waving as you approach.

He nods, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You’re right on time.”

As you sit, you notice the spread he’s prepared: a beautiful array of dishes that wouldn’t look out of place in a high-end restaurant.

“This looks amazing!” you exclaim, eyes wide. “You made all of this?”

He waves a hand dismissively, though there’s a faint pink tinge on his cheeks. “It’s nothing special.”

“Nothing special? Jamil, this is art,” you say, reaching for a plate and immediately helping yourself. “You’ve seriously outdone yourself.”

“Okay, okay,” he says, shaking his head as you pile on the compliments. “Cut it out already. Just eat.”

But despite his words, there’s a small, satisfied smile on his face as he watches you dig in.

Lunch is lively. Between bites, you launch into a story about the latest chaos Ace, Deuce, and Grim dragged you into.

“So there we were,” you say, gesturing dramatically with your fork, “standing in Professor Crewel’s office, and Ace has the brilliant idea to blame the singed curtains on Grim’s ‘natural combustion reflex.’”

Jamil raises an eyebrow, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I’m almost afraid to ask what happened next.”

“Oh, it gets better,” you say with a grin. “Grim starts running with it, claiming he’s going through some ‘highly dangerous fire-beast adolescence.’ Crewel didn’t buy it for a second, but Ace and Deuce looked so confident, you could almost believe them.”

Jamil shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by their nerve or disappointed by their lack of foresight.”

“Probably both,” you say, laughing. “But hey, we survived, and no one got detention—this time.”

As the conversation flows, you can’t help but notice how at ease Jamil seems. His usual reserved demeanor softens as he talks with you, and he even offers a few rare chuckles at your antics.

By the time dessert rolls around, only one piece of a delicate pastry remains on the plate. Jamil nudges it toward you.

“Here. You can have it.”

Instead, you pick it up and hold it out to him with a sly grin. “You made it. You deserve the last bite.”

His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard. “That’s not necessary,” he begins, but you cut him off by leaning closer, still holding the pastry.

“Come on, Jamil. Just take it.”

He hesitates, his composure visibly wavering under your teasing smile, but finally leans forward and takes a small bite. For a second, he’s silent, likely trying to process the fact that you just fed him.

“That good, huh?” you say, laughing at the faint pink dusting his cheeks.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite in his words.

After lunch, Jamil insists on walking you to your next class. As you approach the classroom door, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I had a great time today,” you say, looking up at him with a warm smile. “We should do this again sometime.”

His gaze softens, and he nods. “Yeah. We should.”

As you disappear into the classroom, he stands there for a moment longer, watching the door with a soft, uncharacteristic smile playing at his lips.

You and Jamil are having a nice, peaceful stroll back from lunch when it happens. One moment, you’re chatting about something mundane, and the next, Jamil freezes like someone just hit him with a petrification spell.

“What—” you start, but his hand shoots up, silencing you.

“Don’t move,” he mutters, his voice low and intense.

Alarmed, you follow his gaze, half-expecting to see a monster, an overblot, or at least Grim setting something on fire. Instead, you spot… a beetle.

Granted, it’s a big beetle. The kind that looks like it’s been hitting the gym and maybe has a side hustle as a bodyguard for ants. It’s perched on a bush, twitching its antennae like it’s sizing you both up.

“It’s just a bug,” you say, cautiously glancing at Jamil.

“Just a bug?” Jamil hisses like you just insulted his cooking. “That thing has too many legs. It’s unnatural.”

Before you can reply, the beetle takes two slow, deliberate steps forward. Jamil, in perfect synchronization, takes two steps back.

“Jamil, seriously—”

“I’m handling this,” he interrupts, pulling out his magic pen.

Oh no. You see the look in his eyes, the slight glow of magic sparking at his fingertips, and you realize he’s about to go full Avatar: The Last Bugbender.

“Jamil, we’re not setting the school on fire over a beetle!”

“It’s me or the bug,” he deadpans.

“No, it’s me,” you mutter, resigning yourself to your fate. Sending up a quick prayer to the universe, you step forward.

“What are you doing?!” Jamil whispers harshly, grabbing at your sleeve like you’re walking into the jaws of a lion.

“Saving the school grounds from you, Pyroclasmus."

You approach the beetle, heart pounding as it shifts slightly, its shiny, armored body glinting in the sunlight.

“Shoo,” you say weakly, flapping your hand at it. The beetle stares at you, unimpressed.

“Shoo?” Jamil echoes behind you. “That’s your grand strategy?”

Before you can come up with something better, the beetle’s wings buzz ominously, and it launches itself directly at your face.

You scream. Jamil screams louder. And somehow, in the chaos, he practically climbs onto you like a human backpack.

“Kill it! Kill it now!” he shrieks, his voice breaking into a pitch you didn’t think was humanly possible.

“MAYBE A LITTLE HELP?!” you yell back, snatching up the nearest object—a notebook—and swinging it wildly like a deranged baseball player.

With a loud thwack, the beetle goes flying into the distance, vanishing into the horizon like Team Rocket blasting off again.

There’s silence. You’re panting, clutching the notebook like it’s a holy relic. Jamil is still clinging to your back, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a death grip.

“...Did you get it?” he whispers.

“Yes, Jamil. I got it. The school is safe.”

He slowly detaches himself, his feet hitting the ground as he smooths out his uniform with a dignity that absolutely does not exist anymore.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “thank you for your… assistance.”

You blink at him. “Assistance? You were hanging off me like a terrified cat!”

“I don’t recall that happening.”

“Oh, you don’t recall climbing me like a tree? Want me to ask the security cameras?”

He glares at you, his face carefully blank, but his ears are redder than Riddle after someone breaks a rule.

“Fine. You’re my knight. Happy?” he mutters, turning on his heel and stalking off.

“Anytime, your highness!” you call after him, grinning.

The next day, you find a small, ridiculously fancy cake on your desk. The note attached simply reads:

For my knight. Do not speak of this.

You laugh so hard you nearly choke.

You’re not entirely sure how it came to this. One moment, you were enjoying a rare moment of peace, and the next, Crowley had materialized out of nowhere, looking dramatic as ever.

“Ah, my most resourceful prefect!” he’d declared. “I need your unparalleled skills for a mission of utmost importance!”

You hadn’t even had a chance to ask questions before you were handed your task: retrieve his hat, which was somehow stuck at the very top of a tree on the campus grounds.

So here you are, clinging to a branch like a very confused and irritated squirrel, glaring at the offending hat above you.

“This is fine,” you mutter under your breath, trying to edge closer to the hat without looking down. “Everything is fine. This is just my life now.”

A voice interrupts your inner monologue. “Should I even ask how you got up there?”

You twist around—bad move, the branch wobbles—and spot Jamil standing at the base of the tree, arms crossed and wearing an expression that’s equal parts confusion and mild exasperation.

“Crowley,” you call back, as though that single word explains everything.

It does. Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Why am I not surprised?” He pauses, looks at you precariously perched above him, and sighs. “Stay still. I’ll help you down.”

You watch as he starts climbing the tree with an ease that feels unfair. Within seconds, he’s beside you, balancing effortlessly on a nearby branch.

“Give me your hand,” he says, extending his arm.

“I don’t know, Jamil,” you tease, even as you grab his hand. “Does this make you my knight in shining armor?”

He freezes for half a second, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, before recovering. “It makes me someone who doesn’t want to watch you break your neck,” he replies, voice dry but a little flustered.

With his help, you manage to climb down safely, landing on solid ground at last. You glance up at him as he dusts himself off, his expression as composed as ever.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you remark, folding your arms. “Tree climbing must be one of your hidden talents.”

Jamil snorts softly. “Someone has to be prepared for situations like this. And by ‘situations like this,’ I mean you.”

You’re about to retort when something hits you. You stare at him, then at the tree, and back at him.

“Wait a second,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes. “You could’ve just used magic to get me down.”

Jamil freezes mid-step, a guilty flicker in his eyes before his calm mask slips back into place. “...And?”

“And you climbed the tree manually?” you say, incredulous. “Why?”

He shrugs, his tone carefully nonchalant. “It seemed faster at the time.”

You gape at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God. You wanted to show off, didn’t you?”

“I did not,” he protests, though the faint flush creeping up his neck suggests otherwise.

You lean closer, grinning. “Sure, Sir Jamil, whatever you say. Next time, I expect you to storm the tree with a sword and shield.”

“Please stop talking,” he mutters, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrays him.

As the two of you head toward Crowley’s office, a new question pops into your head. “Actually, now that I think about it—why didn’t Crowley just use magic to get his own hat back?”

Jamil goes quiet, clearly considering this. After a long moment, he shakes his head. “Who knows what goes on in his mind?”

“Maybe there’s nothing in there at all,” you muse, and Jamil snorts softly, trying to cover it with a cough.

When you finally deliver the hat to Crowley, he praises you with an exaggerated flourish, and you’re pretty sure Jamil rolls his eyes behind you.

As you walk away, you glance at him and smirk. “So, does this mean we’re even? You rescued me from a tree, I rescued you from...uh, your dignity?”

“Keep talking, and I might leave you in the next one,” he says, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes you grin.

The aftermath of Kalim’s latest impromptu party is, as usual, chaos incarnate. Streamers hang from every surface like overzealous jungle vines, discarded cups litter the floor, and a suspiciously sticky patch near the dessert table seems to defy all attempts at cleaning.

In the center of it all is Jamil, shoulders squared, looking ready to singlehandedly wrestle the mess into submission.

“You don’t have to help,” he says, not for the first time, as you sweep a pile of crumpled napkins into a trash bag.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, giving him a pointed look. “I like cleaning.”

The blatant lie rolls off your tongue so smoothly that you almost convince yourself. Almost.

Jamil pauses, giving you a look that clearly says, I don’t believe you for a second, but he doesn’t argue further. Maybe he’s too tired to fight you on it. Maybe he’s just glad for the company. Either way, you both fall into a rhythm, clearing tables, collecting discarded decorations, and righting toppled furniture.

It’s the final stretch, and the kitchen is the last battleground. You’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in soapy water. Scrubbing dishes isn’t fun at the best of times, but these plates seem particularly vengeful, coated in some unholy combination of caramel and glitter.

You’re attacking a plate with the kind of intensity usually reserved for mortal enemies when you notice Jamil glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His hands move automatically, rinsing a glass, but his gaze lingers on you.

“What?” you ask, not bothering to look up as you keep scrubbing.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, but his voice carries a strange, soft warmth.

You glance over and catch him staring. There’s something odd about his expression—soft, unguarded, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t expected.

“What?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.

“...You hate this,” he says simply.

Your hand pauses mid-scrub. “What are you talking about?”

“You hate cleaning,” he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve been glaring at that plate like it insulted your entire family.”

You scoff, but there’s no denying it—he’s onto you. “I do not!”

Jamil just raises an eyebrow, looking entirely too smug for someone who just spent hours cleaning up Kalim’s hurricane of a party.

You huff, realizing you’ve been caught, and turn back to your task. “Fine. Maybe I don’t like cleaning. But I wanted to help, okay?”

His hands still briefly in the soapy water, and when you glance at him, his face is unreadable.

“You stayed,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You frown, confused. “Of course I stayed. I wasn’t gonna leave you to deal with this alone.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingers on you a moment longer, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you standing there, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a plate you very clearly despise.

And then it hits him, like a tidal wave. He’s absolutely, hopelessly smitten.

His chest tightens, and for once, Jamil Viper has no plan, no clever rebuttal to distract himself. He’s just standing there, fully aware of how utterly doomed he is.

“What’s with the staring?” you tease, breaking the silence.

Before he can recover, you scrunch your face into the goofiest expression you can muster, sticking out your tongue for good measure.

Jamil blinks, caught off guard. And that’s the moment he knows. There’s no going back.

He’s absolutely, irreversibly fucked.

The basketball court echoes with the rhythmic squeak of sneakers and the thud of a bouncing ball as you step inside, Ace's notebook in hand. He’d left it in your bag—typical Ace—and since you were passing by anyway, you figured you’d return it.

But the moment you enter, your eyes are drawn to Jamil. He’s in the middle of a play, effortlessly weaving through defenders, his movements fluid and sharp like a dancer’s. There’s a precision to everything he does—the way he pivots, the way his hands cradle the ball before shooting. The arc of the shot is perfect, and when the ball swishes through the net, you realize you’ve been holding your breath.

You don’t even notice the whistle blowing for a break until Floyd’s voice cuts through your trance.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Shrimpy!”

He’s already striding over, towering above you and grinning like he’s just caught something interesting in his net. Before you can say a word, he leans down, practically draping himself over you.

“Whatcha doin’ here, huh? Come to watch us play? Or maybe—” he pauses, his grin widening mischievously, “—you’re here to cheer for me?”

“Actually, I’m just here to give Ace his notebook,” you deadpan, though you’re slightly thrown off by how casually he’s leaning into your space.

Floyd hums, completely ignoring your response as he tugs at your sleeve. “Y’know, you should stay. It’d be more fun with you watching.”

Across the court, Jamil’s gaze flickers toward the two of you. His expression is as composed as ever, but the moment Floyd leans in closer—laughing about something you didn’t even catch—there’s a subtle twitch in his jaw.

Jamil tells himself he’s not bothered. It’s just Floyd being Floyd, right? And you’re here for Ace, not… anything else.

But the longer Floyd stays glued to you, the tighter Jamil’s grip becomes on the water bottle he’s holding.

With his usual smoothness, Jamil walks over, casual but purposeful. “Floyd,” he says evenly, “coach is calling for you.”

“Huh?” Floyd tilts his head lazily, but his grin says he knows exactly what’s happening. “Didn’t hear anything.”

“Well, you won’t if you’re not paying attention.” Jamil’s tone remains calm, but there’s a subtle edge to it as he places a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you away from Floyd.

“Ohhh,” Floyd drawls, straightening up but not stepping back just yet. His eyes dart between you and Jamil, and his grin becomes downright predatory. “I get it now.”

“Get what?” Jamil asks, though his voice is just a touch too sharp to be casual.

“Nothing~” Floyd sing-songs, finally retreating. But as he walks off, he throws a glance over his shoulder and mutters just loud enough, “Jealous, jealous, Sea Snake~”

Jamil’s composure falters for half a second before he fixes his expression. Jealous? Him? Absolutely not. That’s ridiculous.

“You okay?” you ask, clearly amused as you watch him struggle to maintain his usual cool.

“Of course,” he replies smoothly, brushing nonexistent dust off his uniform. “Floyd’s just being… Floyd.”

You can barely hold back a laugh. As composed as Jamil tries to seem, the faint flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes avoid meeting yours tell a very different story.

By the time Ace saunters over to collect his notebook, you’re grinning like you’ve uncovered the world’s juiciest secret.

“What’s so funny?” Ace asks, glancing between you and Jamil, who’s pretending to inspect his water bottle with far too much interest.

“Oh, nothing,” you say lightly, though your grin doesn’t waver.

Ace squints, then sighs dramatically. “You’re just gonna let him suffer like this, huh?”

“Maybe,” you reply with a laugh, already planning to put him out of his misery soon.

Kalim’s parties have a reputation. They’re always loud, chaotic, and somehow manage to defy the very laws of reality. Tonight is no exception—music booms, people laugh and cheer, and the smell of rich food wafts through the air.

You’re leaning against a table, sipping on some mysterious (and surprisingly good) drink, when Floyd suddenly appears out of nowhere. Typical.

“Shrimpy!” he drawls, flashing that sharp-toothed grin of his. “Wanna dance?”

You blink at him, caught off guard. “Uh—”

“It’ll be fun!” Floyd insists, leaning in closer. His voice drops into that playful, teasing tone that promises something is about to go horribly, hilariously wrong. “C’mon, don’t be shy!”

Before you can even attempt a polite refusal, another voice cuts in, firm and unmistakably annoyed.

“They’re already dancing with me,” Jamil says, stepping between you and Floyd with a smoothness that almost masks the sharp edge in his voice.

Floyd pauses, blinking at Jamil. And then he laughs.

“Ohhhh, really? I didn’t see you on the dance floor yet, Sea Snake,” he teases, his grin only growing.

Jamil doesn’t flinch. His face is calm, composed, but you can see the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his hand clenches slightly at his side.

Floyd shrugs, backing off with a mischievous chuckle. “Guess I’ll just find someone else, then. Have fun, Shrimpy!”

As Floyd disappears into the crowd, Jamil turns to you, clearly ready to explain himself.

“I just didn’t want him to bother you,” he says quickly, eyes darting to the side. “You know how Floyd gets—”

You raise an eyebrow, not letting him finish. “Oh, so you were just saving me? That’s so sweet of you, Jamil. I don't really mind so I guess I’ll go dance with Floyd, then.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment, Jamil Viper—master of control, unparalleled tactician—looks completely and utterly panicked.

“You—you don’t have to do that,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically uneven as he grabs your hand.

You blink, taken aback by the desperation in his expression. He looks like the idea of you dancing with Floyd is physically painful to him.

You can’t do this to him. Not anymore.

“Come with me,” you say, tugging his hand and leading him toward the balcony.

The cool night air greets you as you step outside, the distant hum of music muffled by the doors. Jamil follows, quiet but tense, his hand still wrapped around yours.

You turn to face him, and he immediately starts talking, his words tumbling out faster than usual. “I just didn’t want Floyd to—”

“Jamil,” you interrupt, squeezing his hand gently. “Stop. It’s okay.”

He blinks, caught off guard.

You take a deep breath, smiling softly. “I like you, Jamil. I’ve liked you for a while now. And you don’t need to be jealous or worried or...whatever it is you’re feeling. Because there’s no one else. No one who even compares.”

His lips part slightly, and for a moment, Jamil Viper is completely speechless.

“You—you like me?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.

You laugh gently, stepping closer. “Yeah. I like you. A lot.”

His gaze drops to the ground, and you can see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. But then he looks back at you, his eyes warm and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.

Before he can say anything else, you lean in and kiss him, your lips brushing against his softly. He freezes for a moment, and then his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch hesitant but firm.

When you pull back, he’s looking at you like you’ve just rewritten his entire universe.

“...You’re really something, you know that?” he murmurs, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face.

You grin. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”

And for once, Jamil doesn’t have a single witty comeback. Instead, he just kisses you again.

The moment the words “Jamil and I are dating” leave your mouth, the reactions are immediate and chaotic—exactly as you’d expected.

Kalim is the first to respond, his eyes lighting up like you’ve just told him you’re planning a surprise party in his honor. “Really?! That’s amazing! I knew Jamil had it in him! Oh, this is great! We have to celebrate—wait, should I throw another party?”

Jamil, standing beside you, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kalim, please—”

But Kalim’s already planning out loud, “I’ll get the musicians, some fireworks, maybe even—”

“NO!” you and Jamil shout in unison, and Kalim looks momentarily sheepish before settling for bouncing on his heels in excitement.

The rest of your motley crew, however, isn’t as quick to jump on the “Happy Couple” train.

“Wait, Jamil?” Ace blurts out, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “You’re dating Jamil Viper?”

Deuce chimes in, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Isn’t he... I don’t know... a little serious for you?”

Sebek, always ready to yell about something, crosses his arms and scowls. “Jamil Viper, the ever-scheming right-hand man of the Asim heir? Human, are you sure this is wise?!”

Epel, meanwhile, tilts his head thoughtfully. “I mean, he’s kinda scary... but also kinda cool?”

Jack simply stares at you, his arms crossed and his tail flicking. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and cautious.

Grim, predictably, jumps in with his usual brand of over-the-top indignation. “Hold on a second, henchhuman! You’re dating that snake? What about me? Your most important ally!”

Before you can respond, Grim’s eyes narrow as if he’s about to deliver a fiery rant... but then he pauses. “Wait... didn’t he give me that plate of grilled fish last week?”

You nod slowly, unsure where this is going.

Grim strokes his chin, as if in deep thought, before finally shrugging. “Eh, he feeds me, and you seem happy. Works for me!”

Jamil, for once, looks both exasperated and amused. “Glad to have your approval,” he says dryly, earning a triumphant nod from Grim.

Meanwhile, Ace is squinting at Jamil like he’s trying to solve a complicated math problem. “Actually... wait. He’s not bad. He’s smart, he can cook... he did save my butt in Alchemy class that one time...”

Deuce rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah... and he’s pretty reliable. Like, way more reliable than Ace, for sure.”

“Hey!” Ace protests, but Deuce ignores him.

Even Sebek, though still frowning, grudgingly mutters, “He is competent. For a human.”

Epel shrugs, grinning. “And he’s good at keeping up with Floyd. That alone deserves respect.”

Jack nods in agreement. “As long as he treats you right, I don’t see a problem.”

You glance at Jamil, whose ears are faintly pink despite his calm expression. “Wow,” you say, grinning at him. “You’ve won them over. I didn’t think it’d be this easy.”

“Neither did I,” he mutters, shooting a pointed look at Ace and Grim.

Kalim, still practically vibrating with excitement, claps Jamil on the back. “See? I knew they’d all come around! Oh, I’m so happy for you two!”

Jamil sighs, but there’s a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Kalim.”

Grim jumps onto your shoulder, wagging his tail. “Alright, henchhuman, now that this is settled, how about we celebrate with some snacks? Jamil, you’re cooking, right?”

Jamil gives him a flat look. “Don’t push your luck.”

As everyone laughs, you reach over and squeeze Jamil’s hand, and he glances at you, his expression softening. The chaos might be exhausting, but with you by his side, it’s a little more bearable—and, dare he say it, even enjoyable.

1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist

Gonna pick up the pace with the milestone fics now! I'll be posting Riddle next, so after that:

[itsharleystuff]

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ 𝐌Í𝐀 ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Javier Peña x afab!fem reader (implied hispanic/latina)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a major fight between the two of you, a month goes by in which you give each other the silent treatment, figuring out if you should start seeing different people. However, Javier has a problem: he can’t get his dick hard for anyone that isn’t you. So, when he sees how easily you can move on from him, he gets awfully jealous.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, possessive/jealous behavior, unprotected sex, p in v, cuffs, slight dirty talk, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’, pet names (sweetheart, corazón, cariño, hermosa, etc.), praise kink, come eating, oral sex (f! & m! receiving), mentions of drugs, smoking, a bit of angst, very little plot (mostly filth), weirdly structured plot. I think that’s it.

— a/n: there’s some phrases and words in Spanish, some are translated and some aren’t. Let me know if translations are needed :)

No use of y/n.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Javier Peña has never been a jealous man.

It's simply never been in his nature, not even when he was a child playing around with toys that he loved to share. And nowadays? Well, he had other stuff in mind that didn't leave any room for those pedestrian feelings.

As of now, he -supposedly- didn't have anything to be worried about. Specially not women.

Everyone knew he fucked hookers so good that they'd spill all their secrets in his ear, and that he was attractive enough to leave a bar with company just after a couple of minutes from arriving there. But to anyone observant, it was obvious how bad he had it for you.

Still, that didn't stop him from being an asshole.

You remember the last time you two spoke and how it turned out to be a fucking disaster: basically, he didn't like the idea of exclusivity because it involved feelings that he wasn't ready to admit, so you had called him a slut (along with many other insults) and he'd said that you were childish and sensitive. So naturally, everything went downhill after that fight.

Currently, things were pretty tense with Javier, even at work. But things just got worse when the Colombian police sent you onto an undercover mission, nothing really extravagant but still quite dangerous. And apparently, the DEA knew nothing about it.

The task was rather simple: you'd go to one of Medellin's busiest nightclubs and find out if there was a cocaine distribution line working there. The problem was what the agent had overheard from Carrillo. Not only did he knew now that you were at the place, but he also had word that one of the cartel's most wanted sicarios was about to be there too. And knowing the Coronel as well as he did, you were right in the middle of a crossfire. He arrived at the club earlier than any of them, hoping to find you quickly and draw you out before the asset came in.

But, oh hell.

What he saw the minute he stepped in almost made him lose his shit.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

You had no business being in there this late. You'd already passed down all the information needed to your boss and now you were just waiting for the cartel's member to arrive so you could call Carrillo and let him finish the job.

But in the meantime, you decided to at least try and have some fun. After everything that went on with Peña, you felt like you deserved a distraction.

The music was loud, reggaetón reverberating in your body as you danced, eyes wide awake in case the target decided to show up. The stranger you were dancing with had his hands all over your body, holding you close to him while you moved in synch. He was handsome in a boyish way, and a bit clumsy, but good enough to take your mind off from the irritating DEA agent. At least for now.

To be honest, you didn't lack any attention at the moment. Both men and women would come up to you, hoping to get a piece of what you had to offer. It came without saying that everything about you tonight resulted appealing to the kind of people that frequented the place, being an undercover assignment you did your best to blend in. And it seemed to work out wonderfully. The flashy makeup and short dress that only accentuated your figure made you stand out amongst the rest; nevertheless, what really attracted everyone's gaze wasn't any of that, but the confidence with which you'd walk around the place like you owned it.

"¿Qué tal si nos vamos pa' un lugar más oscurito, mamacita?" (How about we go to a more private place?) The guy, whose name you didn't even know, proposed. And though the idea sounded nice, your job wasn't quite finished.

"Not yet, papi. Dame un par de canciones más." (Let's dance a bit more). He hummed in response, his hands traveling from your lower back to grab your ass firmly.

"Usted manda." (You call the shots). The answer made you smile cheekily as you lean in to him, hoping to connect his lips with yours.

However, you definitely didn't expect to be abruptly pulled back with force instead, ripping you apart from the man's hold.

"What the hell..." you start to complain and twist in the strangers grasp, who started to drag you out the dance floor and keeping your wrists behind your back.

"Hombre, ¿pero qué diablo' le pasa?" (What's wrong with you, man?). Asked your poor companion, glancing over at the guy that took you away from him.

But you knew exactly who he was even before he spoke. You'd recognize that musky cologne anywhere, mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke. Damn, even your body recognized him so well that the way his fingertips dig on your skin flooded your mind with memories from the past.

"Peña." You mutter through gritted teeth, not bothering to turn your head towards him.

"It's agent Peña to you, sweetheart." He snarls, completely blowing off anyone that would try to get in his way to lug you outside.

A new, fueled up rage crept up your spine while he harshly pulls you to te entrance, right were you see the colonel's target going in.

"Let go of me, mierda!" You struggle against him, not wanting to actually put on a fight but just make him reason. "I have a fucking job to do, so let go of me or..."

"Or what?" Javier spins you around carelessly, leaving your face so close to his that your breaths merged with each other's, chest pressed against your own as he keeps you still, his hands gripping you so hard that it would certainly leave bruises.

"I need to call Carrillo. I'm working, even if you don't believe it." You tell him, letting your racing heartbeat start to settle.

The man's eyes were dark, covered by a shadow of anger that matched his stern expression. He was always handsome, but whenever he'd get mad, Javi was hot. Although it was unusual for you to see him like this, him being always attentive and careful, though still very passionate. He would never explode, not even when the stress and tension became too much to handle. But then, you realize...

"No way..." you scoff, keeping direct eye contact. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

His reaction is immediate, turning your body again and flushing your face against the trunk of his jeep Cherokee, bending you over the car. You gasp audibly, feeling the cold metal under your cheek and his body towering upon you while he holds you down by the back of your neck. Javier's lips brush the top of your ear when he leans down to you.

"The fuck do I need to be jealous about, cariño?" He whispers lowly, his hot breath giving you goosebumps and making your knees tremble. "Eres mía, you've always been."

Ah, fuck.

Despite all the shit that you went through with him, the effect he had on you remained the same. No matter what, the agent was aware of it, conscious of how you'd always melt under his touch, he just knew all your sweet spots by core memory and what'll have you squirming underneath him. Yeah, even if your mind tried it's best to erase Peña, your body would always betray you.

"You lost your chance." You mutter in a bittersweet tone. "Now get the hell off me so I can finish my task."

He doesn't instantly let go, but eventually loosens the grip on your nape. Though right when you thought he'd actually let you free, there's a cold metallic sensation brushing on your wrist and you suddenly can't move your arms from your back. The motherfucker had just cuffed you.

"Malparido, hijo de..." You ramble, straightening your back to glance at him in exasperation.

"Don't move." He growls, opening the driver's door and taking his radio out. The agent starts to talk through it, but you're way too outraged as to pay any attention, your vision going red when you catch your name, the words 'Carrillo', 'sicario' and the place were you're at, figuring out that he's doing the part of the job that corresponded to you.

"You're sick, Peña." There's no reply to the snarky comment as he simply shoves you in the back of his truck, rather carefully, considering the situation.

You watch intently while he gets back on his seat, analyzing every detail about him. It wasn't anything special, you had seen him quite often at work after your fight, and nonetheless, now... Something seemed off.

Javier was wearing a red button shirt under his black leather jacket, from which he drew out a pack of cigs and a lighter. He appeared the same, however, you could sense the tension on his shoulders and back, the kind you'd help him deal with before, and it almost felt like he was holding back from doing something. Heck, you hated it. You completely despised arguing with him, being apart from the man almost made you physically unwell.

But that was the root of this whole problem. You were able to admit it; how much you liked him and didn't want anyone else. Him on the other hand, wasn't ready for all that. Although, despite him implying that he couldn't fully commit or correspond to your feelings... Right now, his actions were very contradicting.

Because Javier Peña never got jealous.

And yet, there he was.

Perhaps, if you spurred him on just enough and cornered him in a trap... Perhaps then, he'd be able to admit it. 

"So what now, agent?" You wonder, laying your back flat on the leather sit, feeling the coldness of the material on your exposed skin and trying to find a comfortable position. "You mind explaining yourself?"

He looks at you through the rear-view mirror, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. A challenging fire shines in your eyes when you lock glances with him. But he doesn't say anything, simply starting the car and getting the windows down before lighting up a cigarette.

"What about you, sweetheart?" He asks, the fag hanging from between his lips as he starts driving away from the club. "Care for elaborating on your actions?"

You snort, gaze diverting towards the window. "I was just killing time."

The streets of Medellin were loud and busy, specially on the weekends. But at the moment, the paths were dark and quiet, as if everyone knew that there was a storm coming and they had to stay out of the hood.

"So that's your idea of 'killing time'?" He comes again, tapping the cigar out his window to leave the ashes behind. "Letting random men grope you in those wrenched bars?" You grin, still defying him with your attitude. "And yet, I'm the slut..."

"You must certainly are, Peña." You reply condescendingly, watching the road. "When I was with you, that was it. No one else even crossed my mind. But then, you? How many other women did you have besides me?"

He grunts, taking a long drag without looking back in your direction. You recognize certain spots and locals, but none of them were anywhere close to your apartment. Instead of asking were he was taking you to, the idea you previously had lingers on your mind.

Red light.

"You know, ever since we... Well, ghosted each other. I've actually had tons of fun." His eyes darkened, but no matter all the warning signs he was sending with his body, you just couldn't hold back anymore, starting to play a game that might get out of control. "Actually, you know that guy working with the CIA? Balcázar?"

Javier looked so gorgeous while driving. His big hands over the lever and muscles flexing whenever he'd make sudden moves. Even now, tense as an arrow an white-knuckling the wheel at your words, he was the hottest man you'd seen.

"Shit, he’s good..." you purr, slightly arching your back so he'll get a better view of your breasts, barely contained in that tiny dress you were wearing. "I really miss him. Hated it when he went back to New York."

His stormy glare was on you, watching closely every single move you made. Your legs were briefly parted, just enough for him to peek a sight of your laced underwear. The agent's breathing became ragged and he had to try his best to stay concentrated.

"Careful, cariño." You hear him rasp out with a hint of danger. "You really don't want to go there."

Green light.

He puts the cigarette out and throws the tail away carelessly.

"Ay, Peña." Your voice goes an octave lower, licking your lips. "Don't act like you haven't been to every brothel in the city trying to fill in my spot."

The man huffs a laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. "I know what you're doing." You look at him through your lashes, faking innocence and confusion. "But if you really want me to say it, there hasn't been anyone else."

"Yeah, right..." That mocking tone was really getting on his nerves.

"Not even when we were together." Javi sulks out.

"Then why was it so difficult for you to be serious with me?" You question grimly. "Do you not like me?"

His eyes bore back into yours somberly, as if you'd just said the stupidest thing in the world despite the graveness in your voice and expression, lazily scanning you head to toe.

"Like you?" It sounded like he was struggling not to come off sardonic, cocking an eyebrow at you. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

You lean in towards him when he takes an unexpected turn, inhaling his particular scent mixed with the leather and smoke. Suddenly, he parks the car someplace dark and empty that resembled an abandoned gas station. Kind of creepy, but you recognized the area now. It was a neighborhood located a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

"Why?" You coo, taunting, patiently testing how much he'd spill. But Javier won't meet your glance, focused on the nothingness ahead of him.

"Because I can't even get my dick hard for any other women, for fucks sake!" He howls, rubbing his face with his palm, clearly pissed.

At first, you thought he must've been joking. But the way he said it came out so frustrated that it made it hard to believe he was lying. His bold statement gave you a rush of power, knowing that you had him in mind and body, the man that made every woman he acquainted feel like a schoolgirl crushing on a senior. You understood why he was so mad right now; it wasn't only cause he was jealous, but because he hated seeing that you could easily move on to the next man while he remained stuck.

Though it was a lie. You only responded to him and you wanted to prove him that. But Javier had to acknowledge the mistake he made.

"Perhaps you're just old." You teased, "Have you tried pills for that?"

His reaction was so unexpected that you had barely any time to process the circumstances. He got out the car and opened the passenger's seat, tugging at your arm to get you out the jeep apprehensively.

"Take a guess, sweetheart." He grits next to your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

"Fucking hell..." you mewl at the feeling of Javier's hard boner firm against your ass. His hands hold your waist for a second before manhandling you to the edge of the back passenger's seat, hunching down in front of you with both hands gently gripping the exposed flesh of your thighs and looking up at you with fiery eyes.

"If you want me to say it, fine." He bites, giving up. "I made a mistake. It was stupid." Then his tone denotes the way he's struggling to contain anger. "I can't bear it. Seeing you with other men... It drives me insane. I can't even think straight- shit, I almost blew a whole ass operation tonight just because I saw you dancing with that guy." You gulp, remembering how furious he was just a few moments ago. "But let's not fool ourselves, cariño. We both know you haven't slept with anyone else either."

How he figured that out was a mystery to you. Maybe he truly was a very good agent.

There isn't a retort in your behalf. What could you possibly say anyway? He had you figured out already, he always did.

Back in the day, when you first started working with him, Javier acted like a complete shithead. Him an Murphy would give you a hard time with the DEA, always getting in trouble, messing up your schedules and bribing confidential information out of you. That's how you grew closer to him. Peña used to invite you for dinner or beers as an apology, granted that he always looked forward to take you back to his apartment, of course. Except you had heard the rumors regarding his reputation, and that was a well in which you weren't particularly eager to fall in, specially since he was a coworker.

Yet, it was all in vain. How could you ever say no to him if he'd look at you with those sparkly, deep brown eyes that resembled a lost puppy? You fell for Javi's smug smirk, the groovy hair, plus that confident and bite-back attitude of his, knowing how it would eventually end. Even so, no one could really blame you. He acted different around you, people were able to tell, brighter, more open and honest.

"See, I'm sorry about what I said..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"Don't be. I deserved that shit." The man stands up, taking a bunch of keys from the pocket of his jeans and going to take off the cuffs. "You should feel sorry for all those poor guys you toyed with while thinking about me the whole time."

You stretch your arms and massage your wrists, unwilling to meet his intense gaze, conscious that you'd fall for his charm immediately. He worked smarter, grabbing your chin to raise your face towards him.

"Did you enjoy it?" He hissed, fingertips digging on your jaw with moderate force. "Having other men grab your ass while everyone watches? Teasing the hell out of me in the office with those obscenely tight skirts and talking to Murphy as if I wasn't right beside him?" Your tongue darts out to lick your lower lip, not breaking eye contact. "Answer me, corazón."

"Yes," you respond cockily, "I enjoyed it." His face swiftly sobered, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "But I didn't think it had any effect on you, so it felt like a waste of time and effort."

Javier laughs huskily, bending forward. You close your eyes, thinking he's going in for a kiss, but instead his lips go to rest on your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and all the way down to the valley of your breasts. As of now, you're a panting mess, already turned on by his adamant behavior. The fact that you were finally getting to feel him like this after a month or so of completely ignoring each other... It felt divine.

Your tug at his shoulder as he keeps nibbling the sensitive skin. The agent knew your body better than anyone else ever could, he'd memorized all the spots that would have you moaning and squirming underneath him, which was the case just now.

"Javi..." you sigh, running your hand through his hair.

"You're such a fucking brat." He reflects, kneeling between your parted legs. "A month ago I was merely a ghost to you, a few minutes prior I was simply 'Peña'. But when my lips are on you I'm suddenly 'Javi'?" He boasts with a devilish grin. "How convenient..."

"Mmm..." he laughs gruffly at your loss of words, his fingers hooking your underwear beneath the dress and slowly pulling it down.

At this point you're so wet it's embarrassing. It was probably due to the lack of sex you've had recently, or perhaps you were really growing fond of this new phase of his and the idea of Javier being possessive over you.

"Don't you dare look away." He warns roughly, peeling the fabric off you with a tad of your help. "Keep your eyes on me. I'll only tell you this once."

You nod eagerly. "Javi, are we- are we going to do it here?" It wouldn't be a new thing, you've done similar stuff in the past, though never in such an open space, despite appearing deserted. "Your place is barely a few blocks away..." His lips graze the soft skin of your upper leg, the feeling of his mustache raising goosebumps on your body.

"Can't wait." He stated, voice tinted with lust whilst his palm caresses your calf. "Need you now."

Somehow that made the pit of your stomach feel warmer. The rush of excitement coming from that desire he had for you had gave a thrill of control, completely ignoring how he was the one in charge of this situation. Javier carefully slips your dress upwards, taking in every single reaction you had to his touch and cursing at the sight of your throbbing pussy. The heat of his breath against your exposed core only increased your arousal, seemingly encouraging him.

"Shit, this cunt really did miss me, huh?" You nod again, basking in the contact of his nose brushing your clit, sending shivers down your spine.

In spite of your low whimpers of need, he deliberately denied you of his touch were you most needed him, simply roaming his lips and fingers over your inner thighs and pubic bone. Desperate, you scratch his scalp softly, pulling a groan from him.

"Javi, please..." he was definitely going to make you beg for it, regardless of how much he wanted it too. 

"Did you let anyone else do this to you?"

"No." You breathe out.

"Good." His thumb suddenly falls on your clit, rubbing slow circles. You squeal from the spontaneousness of the action, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "This is mine." Then he slides down his finger to slightly part your swollen lips, coating it with your slick. "All mine."

"Sí, Javi."

"That's right, corazón." He murmurs, slipping two digits into you. "I'm going to fuck you so good that you won't ever think about anyone else." He sets a pace pretty quickly, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them to hit all the right spots. "I'm the only man for you. Understand that?"

"Yes, shit-" you choke down a moan when he mildly pinches your nub. "You are."

He makes a satisfied noise before diving in your pussy, starting to lick and kiss your clit without pulling out his fingers, maintaining a relentless pace and rejoicing himself in the sounds he'd pull from you.

"Fuck, that's good..." you manage to say, knowing how he likes the praise, your hand messing up his hair.

Javier pulls away for a second, grabbing your thighs to part them further and place your legs over his shoulders eagerly, hungrily looking up at you. You arch your back, ever so responsive to him while struggling to maintain a hold of yourself.

"So pretty." He whispers, admiring how your chest goes up and down from your rag breathing, your face contorted by pleasure as his fingers disappear in your cunt, the squelching sounds of your pussy and the moans spilling from your lips making him painfully hard. "Toda mía."

Your legs were already shaking, your body being so sensitive and needy. Specially for him. Always for him. But it wasn't enough and you both knew that. Though before you can beg him for more, his mouth takes place were his digits used to be, eating you out as if you were his favorite meal, lapping you up kind of selfishly, almost like he did it for his own pleasure.

"Javi, that's-" you can't even form coherent sentences without being interrupted by your cries of pleasure. "Too fucking good."

His tongue is hot and soft between your folds, licking up your slit as he rubs tight circles on your clit, fucking you greedily and moaning graciously against your slickness. Also, the image of him between your legs was always a sight to see, adding to the pool of arousal. You start seeing white spots and the knot in your lower stomach starts to loosen as the orgasm approaches, gripping the leather seat as if your life depended on it. It's a good thing that he's holding you, cause in a matter of seconds your whole body starts to tremble and his name leaves your lips repeatedly.

"I can't- shit!" You pull his hair involuntarily and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your core and pushing you to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

You can't even finish speaking before you're coming undone in his mouth, feeling the hot waves of satisfaction wash over you. He doesn't pull away until you're practically whining from the overstimulation, trying to regain composure as he licks you clean. When he does, his eyes peer at you, intoxicated with desire as he starts to stand on his feet, towering over you.

"I missed that sweet taste of yours." He licks his glistening lips and you wish he'd finally kiss you. "Can't get enough of it."

Your hands reach his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but he takes your wrists to stop you.

"What's wrong?" You question, genuinely confused.

"I'm taking you to my apartment. I'm doing this properly." He retorts. However, you're too turned on now to care about the place.

"Please Javi, let me do something for you." One thing that made him go stupidly insane for you was the way you were never coy when asking for his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes. As if having him on your throat gratified you. "I need you."

He almost caved in. Almost.

"Stop that or I'll cuff you again." He grumbles, only making you smile.

"Do it. I don't need hands, I can always take you in my mou-" Javier flips your body abruptly, pressing your face against the seat, and you can hear the familiar sound of metal clipping in.

"Such a greedy slut." He fixes your dress, not without subtly smacking your ass beforehand.

"Mm, can I at least get my panties back?" You ask in defeat, turning to face him, but he was already shutting the door.

"No." He quickly starts the car as you settle on the back, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed and lips plump from biting them, eyes still sparkling from the high post-orgasm.

"Do you like me like this?" You wonder as he begins driving. "All fucked out, cuffed and ready for you to take?"

Peña doesn't answer immediately, not daring to look back at you but desperately wanting to do it.

"I do." He answers, eyes on the road. "I like you naked. And dressed too, specially with those pretty skirts. I like it when you tell me how your day was, or when you're reading quietly." His words make your heart flutter, blushing harder. "I like listening to your voice, and the way your gaze always seems interested whenever I talk about me. Shit, I even like you when you're ignoring me." You can almost hear his smile, if that made any sense. "I like you all the damn time, hermosa."

Honestly, you weren't expecting such a straightforward answer, finding yourself at loss of words. Nonetheless, you didn't need to say anything, cause sooner than expected you were being taken out of the truck, flashes of the building he resided in passed right in front of your eyes while he dragged you through the dark, silent halls.

"Javi..." despite having limited mobility, you lean towards him, whispering in his ear. "Please kiss me."

He laughs dryly at your plea and struggles to open the door. "You want that, huh? ¿Quieres que te bese?" Then he takes your arm to drag you in, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, mi amor. I missed you so fucking much." You stay close to him, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck. His hand brushes the hair out of your face and he presses his lips to your temple.

"Hm, is that right?" He hums and you can feel it against your nose. "Didn't seem so."

You back off swiftly, keeping your eyes locked with his. "I'm sorry, Javier. I really am."

Something shifts in his gaze, a possessive, deep emotion takes over him and he decides to take you up on your previous proposition.

"Prove it." He commands, voice hoarse. "Show me how much you missed me." The idea of getting what you wanted pursed your lips in a mischievous smirk. "I'll kiss you afterwards if I'm convinced."

Instead of responding, you start peppering kisses all over his jaw and neck, going as far along his chest as the buttons of his shirt would allow you. He lazily unbuckles his belt and pants while you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, but doesn't bother to go any further. It was going to be difficult, though nothing you haven't done before, nearly forgetting the cuffs as you craved his taste.

You rub the side of your face on his stiff erection, feeling how hard and hot he was under the tight fabric of his jeans and a low groan scratches his throat. You mouth at it before taking the zip between your teeth and sliding it down, eyes peering up at him at the same time. Javier observes every move attentively, his cock twitching at the sight of your lust-drunken gaze, breath starting to become unsteady when you kiss and lick the head of his dick over the thin fabric of his boxers. You taste the precum throughout it, salty and good, before pulling down his underwear by lightly biting the elastic.

Your mouth waters at the view, jaw going slack even before taking him in your mouth. His girth slaps against his clothed belly, tip red and leaking, just as big as you remember. Shit, you really had missed him. Javier's hand tangles in your hair, running his fingers in between the locks lovingly. He gasps when you press your lips to the slit, kitten licking the top and starting to spread wet kisses all over his length, running your tongue along the shaft, his musky scent getting to your head quite fast. He loved how every time you were on your knees for him it felt like you adored him, as much as Javier did you.

And it was true. Knowing how good you made him feel satisfied your senses, every expression and single noise he'd make could turn you on and push you to edge so easily. The man was simply delightful.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” he sighs, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb when you finally suck him in. “That’s it, wrap those gorgeous lips around my cock. So pretty…”

He lets out a gruffly moan as you take him further, watching as he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, the sound so divine that it immediately makes your pussy clench around nothing. Javier is thick. And it’s always so hard to get him all in your mouth, but this time you make a double effort. You run your tongue against the veins on the underside of his dick, enjoying the weight of it in you, the taste and the admirable sight of him coming undone while he tries his best not to start fucking your face without warning, laying his palms flat on the wall behind you.

“Shit- that’s…” he grumbles, head spinning from pleasure, unable to make up any thought or manifest anything into words. You start bobbing your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to provide more warmth.

You’re dripping, feeling the slick run down your thighs and the ache becoming unbearable. You squeeze your legs together in order to release some of that need, letting out a whine that vibrates through him and makes his hips jolt into your mouth.

“Fucking hell…” Javier’s hand snakes to the back of your neck, massaging the soft skin. “Does it turn you on to get me off like this, hermosa?”

You hum in response and the feeling sends him to oblivion, letting out a coarse moan that shocks another wave of hotness between your legs.

“What a nasty girl you are.” He mumbles breathily, “My girl.” He’s practically shaking at this point, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

Air wasn’t a necessity at the moment, your ears ringing and the corners of your eyes watering. He warned you he was close but you didn’t back out, letting him hold you for support. He gasps out a raspy ‘fuck’ when he releases, hips stuttering and back arching slightly as his cum hits your tongue. You pull apart just enough to lap at the tip while he rides it out, feeling him throb in your mouth while you savor him until he’s completely spent, soft moans barely audible.

You wait until he opens his eyes again, brown gaze meeting yours between shaky breaths. “Will you uncuff me now, agent?”

He huffs a laugh, tugging himself back in his jeans before helping you get up and taking the metal cuffs off. For a second, none of you say a thing, simply staring back at each other with a swirl of emotions between you. But then he says your name, merely a whisper that makes you crumble.

“Don’t do that, Peña.” You scold, turning your back to him and walking towards the couch, taking a seat and listening to the leather crack under your weight.

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, hands on his hips, pants unbuttoned and hair messy.

“When you say my name like you need me and give me those puppy-dog eyes, I actually believe that you want me for anything other than sex.” He seems disappointed, mostly on himself. “So can we just fuck and get this over with?”

“Is that what you think I…?” Javier shakes his head and follows your direction, but only observes from above. “It’s not like that.”

You take off the heels, your feet starting to hurt. “Then how is it?”

His hand goes to your chin, urging you to look up at him. “I’m not good with this… I screwed up back in Texas and I did it again with you.” You gulp, your hands tightly gripping your knees. “I don’t know how to handle this sort of things, and it’s been a while since I felt like this for anyone…”

He takes the jacket off and sits on the edge of his coffee table in front of the sofa, cupping your face in his hands.

“All I know is that every time we’re together, nothing else matters. Things feel right. But when you’re not with me… Shit. Life becomes insufrible. I can’t sleep, can’t think, fuck, I can’t even have sex!” He looks genuinely irritated. “Everything’s about you when you’re away. And I can’t tolerate to see you with anyone else. It’s like someone just took a shot at me.”

You inhale sharply, taking his hand in yours without breaking eye contact. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve came back to you.”

“Precisely. I tried not to be selfish and let you go, but I can’t. It hurts too much.” He pouts, as if the mere thought made him sick. “And you deserve better.”

Inevitably, you roll your eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Peña.” He furrows his brows at your reply, his palm falling from your cheek to his lap. “That’s crap! You think you know what’s best for me?”

“Well shit, I’m sorry for trying to look out for you.” Javier snarls back.

“I don’t need you to do that, you idiot.” You grab his jaw, taking him by surprise. “I know what I want and I was straightforward about it,” His heart starts thumping against his ribs. “So, if you want me, take me. Cause if you don’t… Someone else might.”

Your statement stirs his pot and his expression shifts. “Fuck no. You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s how this is going to work.”

“Yeah?” He lets out a throaty growl and leans down towards you.

“Yeah.” His mustache tickles your upper lip when he crashes his lips to yours and you whine into his mouth.

It was desperate and demanding, ripping all the emotions from you. Javier tasted like cigarettes, a hint of mint and of you. And you tasted like tequila, honey and of him. His cologne was a little faded, but you could still smell it.

“Say you’re mine, corazón.” He mumbles when he pulls back for air, forehead pressed to yours. “I don’t care if you’re lying, I need to hear it.”

You take him by the collar of his shirt so that he’s sitting down next to you, snaking your hand to press the palm against his bare chest.

“Soy tuya, Javi.” You tell him, laying a small kiss to his lips. “I mean it.”

He smiles cheekily as he pulls you on top of him, spreading your knees to each side of his thighs, your dress slipping upwards. Javier tugs a strand of hair behind your ear and his fingers roam your face as if he wanted to memorize every edge of it by tact alone. His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip carefully, parting your lips briefly before going to kiss you again. This time he does it slowly, taking his time with your lips prior to sliding his tongue past your teeth and relishing on your taste, almost like he wanted to lose himself in you.

To him, the world meant nothing if you weren’t by his side. And now that you were here, he intended to make the most of it.

His hands are everywhere: your waist, hips, lower back and butt, grabbing every bit of your flesh that he could, keeping you close. So close that it almost seemed like he wished to merge into you. You made out for what it appeared to be hours, until the kisses got sloppier but never less passionate, and you started grinding against him. You hold his shoulders for support, creating that delicious friction between your naked cunt and his stiff boner tucked in his pants. He jolts his hips up, making you release a whimper in his mouth.

He backed off, his lips now scrape your jawline, neck and collarbones. You arch your back when his hand slithers to pull down the zipper of your dress, granting him a better view of your tits close to his face.

“My room?” He asks, biting your earlobe mildly.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Javi carries you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist, still finding a way to keep his lips on you in the meantime. Clothes disappear in the blink of an eye and you sit at the end of the sheets to help him take off his pants, kissing his abdomen, your dress now discarded somewhere on the floor.

“Eres preciosa.” The way he says it makes you blush, skin burning under his chocolate gaze. “I’m all yours, mi amor.”

You bring his face close to yours, infatuated with his beauty. “All mine…”

“Yes, corazón.”

You lay down on the mattress, Javier starting to play with your hard nipples, nibbling at them, sucking and kissing with his attention focused on all your reactions. You’re so aroused that you’re quite literally dripping onto his sheets, legs trembling from every light stimulation and skin scorching from desire, already spurred on by the make out and giving him head.

“Please, Javi… I- need you inside.”

He wastes no time to compel, maneuvering a hand to your lower back and aligning himself to your entrance, keeping your legs spread. You feel him inside, splitting you open with no previous warning and the tight grip of your cunt feels like homecoming to him. You hold your breath until he bottoms out, enjoying the sweet stretch he provided. Then your whole body quivers, a sheen layer of sweat covering both his golden skin and yours, a couple of curly locks sticking to his temples from it.

You watch him from below through hooded eyes, every inch of him inside you making you feel so full and complete, the outline of his fingers dig in your waist to keep you angled. You bear down on his cock, enveloping him in the warm, welcoming grasp of your body. He holds your hand above your head and leans down to kiss you again, drowning his own moans in your mouth as he draws out slowly to set a pace with his hips, the wet sounds of you pussy and skin clapping against skin sending a thrill of excitement down his spine.

You get it then, as he pours out all sentiment into you, overcome by passion. He is yours. Even though he just said it, only now does it become evident to you. This is Javier’s way of proving it.

He grabs one of your thighs and lifts your knee to the crook of his elbow, the new angle spreading you further open and allowing him to hit deeper. The impact of his tip hitting every right spot relentlessly forces you to break apart from his lips, your head thrown back into his pillows while practically screaming for more, his face nuzzled in your chest as he melts into you.

“Shit baby, I won’t last.” He warns, sinking his teeth to leave a mark between your breasts. You can feel it too, hot shots of ecstasy creeping up the pit of your stomach every time his cock jumps inside you.

You tug at his hair, a strangled moan escaping his lips. “Do it in me- Please, fill me up.”

Your request sends him right to the edge, his thrusts becoming careless as he starts grinding into you, Javi’s fingers quickly finding your swollen clit. The sole touch made you writhe and reach your high in absolute bliss, clenching your walls around him and crying out from raw pleasure. He fucks you through it, overwhelmed by the sensation. You feel dizzy, barely conscious when he finds his own release, your name spilling from his lips like it was the only word he knew, coming in warm spurts inside you. His spend is dripping from your pussy and thighs when he pulls out and sits up to admire the absolute mess he just made of you.

“Well…” he says, guiding his finger to push his seed back into you, making you whine from the overstimulation. “Hope that made it clear.”

You smile, every muscle in your body weeping from exhaustion. “Yeah… I’ll have to make you jealous more often.”

He groans in annoyance and you pull him back on top of you, spreading tender kisses all over his face, laughing in the meantime.

“Not funny.” He grumbles, despite the grin forming on his lips. Javier rolls to your side, coming to lay down next to you and immediately holding you against his sturdy chest, wrapping his arms around your waist to spoon you. “Stay with me.”

His plead is barely a murmur that filters through your ears and you’re too tired to figure out what those words actually mean. You simply let your eyelids drop and retort with a hardly audible ‘always’.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

I just got this idea and I trust your writing the most, I was wondering if you could write ,unless you already wrote this, where the reader steals König or ghost masks or anyone else and their reaction (nsfw or sfw is fine), thank you have a great day :))

König & Ghost's Reaction to their S/O Stealing their Mask

Warnings: Implications of Smut, Dominant Ghost, Dominant König, Territorial Military Men <3, Minor Spoilers of Ghost's Past, Mention of a Size Kink, Profanity, No Pronouns used for Reader except 'You.

König

Since he's absolutely massive, the ends of his sniper veil literally reach the bottom of your ribcage.

So when König sees you wear it for the first time, he's absolutely F L O O R E D

We don't call him Size Kink König for no reason.

Goes absolutely feral when he sees you draped in his veil.

Can barely keep his hands off you.

"Maus," he husks, fingers twitching as he reaches for you slowly, cautiously, offering you the chance to go with him willingly.

"You don't know what you're doing to me."

Even without the veil, his eyes are dark, a blackness settling over them that, somewhere in your mind, your intuition, has you seeing red.

Regardless of how innocent your intent when acquiring the mask, none of that matters now.

All that does is the growing bulge in König's pants, the shortness of his breath, and his shadow settling over you as he advances on your path.

"You'll be needing that mask more than I will after I'm done with you."

And when you dare to ask "Why ?" now entrapped – eclipsed – by his frame, he just smiles, thin and sharp. Cruel.

He takes you in his arms, pulling you to him, your face almost crushed into his chest.

He laughs. A low rumble – the promise of a natural disaster.

His nose is to yours covered by the veil, a condescending gesture of his prowess and your submission. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"Because everyone will get a free show to the fallout of an evening you’ve roped yourself into."

As if to prove his point, his hands are at your wrists before you even notice the pressure he's applying there, binding you, pulling you ever closer to him. And in that second, you know you're not leaving your little stunt – the night – unscathed.

Ghost

Hoo boy.

Okay, it's no secret to anyone who knows Ghost – really knows him – that he's suffered a lot of hardship throughout his life, hencewhy he is the way he is.

Which others may construe as cold, heartless – even soulless.

But that's only because Simon has lost so much.

So when he comes home to find you in one of his masks, smiling up at him (he can tell by the way your eyes crinkle), he's immediately whipped.

And I mean W H I P P E D.

To see the one person he can truly call his own wearing his gear is something he didn't know he needed until now.

Sure, he's seen you in his shirts, but this felt different. More intimate.

Your face was where his usually was, his spectral imprint practically morphed with the contours of your face.

Though it needn't be mentioned, he has a hard time... containing himself.

"Fuuuck me, Darlin'," he rasps, on you like a sickness as he sits on top of you, pinning you to the sofa by your waist.

"Y'look better in that than I do."

And you smile. Something intentional hidden within.

"Hmm... I doubt that." You can feel Simon's body heat rocketing beneath his clothes.

"You know I can't resist you when you wear it."

And that's all it takes to send him over the edge.

You hear his breath shake as he rolls into you ever so slightly, still restraining his whole weight to keep you intact. Something began to prod your abdomen.

"Oh, you're in for it now," he tells you. There is not a single hint of fallacy to his claim or his expression – one of barely stoic restraint.

"You won't be able to do much of anything by the time I'm through with you."

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

Shameless

Warning ⚠️; internalized homophobia, Homelander is his own warning, toxic relationship, abusive relationship, fluff. 🔞

Pairing; Bottom!Homelander/Top!Male!Reader

Summary; John and you are two opposites. He is a comedian and a liar, you are bluntly honest and direct. He cares about his image, you don't. He is ashamed of your relationship while you are shameless.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the sofa sipping at your drink, eyes staring at John with amusement. Still in his costume, your lover walked in circle while biting his nail. He looked ridiculous in your eyes. All those fake muscles and the cape were too much. He looked always better naked, natural, and not so fake.

- “You are going to get yourself dizzy, my love. Just get out of those ridiculous clothes and come sit with me.” You said, waving your hand to show his costume. “We have so little time together, I would prefer having you by my side than whatever you are doing right now.”

John stared at you, eyes glowing red and you just laughed at him. You weren't scared, never was, because John couldn't kill you. No one could. It was part of your power, your curse, but in a moment like this, it was a blessing. Watching your lover get worked up for nothing was funny.

- “How can you laugh in such a situation?” John asked, voice hissing at you as you rolled your eyes. “Its a disaster! I cannot be seen like… like…”

- “Like the man you truly are?” You finished his sentence, sighing. “John, no one cares about that picture. Everyone will call it fake and those who don't, well who cares? Just discredit them and forget about it.”

John said nothing and looked away, his eyes back to normal. You shook your head as he kept walking around the room, trying to find a solution. You didn't understand him. Why come to you when you couldn't help when you were the source of this situation? Well, you weren't fully responsible. It wasn't you who had decided to kiss on a rooftop where anyone could see, that had been John.

And now there was a picture of you two kissing, your hands squeezing Homelander’s ass, circulating around the internet. It was, for you, hilarious. For John? The end of the world was happening.

- “Can't you stop being overly dramatic for five minutes?” You asked, harsher than you wanted.

You gasped in surprise as the back of your head hit the floor, hard, making you see stars. John had pined you down after knocking over the sofa and sat on you. You shivered, licking your lips as you plunged your gaze into his glowing one.

- “And can't you take it seriously for once? Don't you realize how serious the situation is for me? I am supposed to be perfect with no weaknesses and I can not be seen like that with another man.” John spat, his hand grabbing your chin painfully tight.

- “But you are not perfect John and you'll never be!” You replied with a sneer.

It was the wrong answer because next thing you knew John punched you and pain exploded in your jaw. Blood splashed all over your lover and you as your jaw hit the wall and fell onto the ground. From anger, John expression turned to horror as he realized what he had done. From amused, you became enraged.

You didn't gave John any chance and kicked him in the chest, sending the sup flying against the ceiling. You watched your lover fall loudly on the ground as you got up, spilling blood all over the place. You closed your eyes, pain swallowing you up as nerves, bones and everything else slowly regrew. Tears slowly rolled down your cheeks as you felt like your lower jaw was burning in the fiery pits of Hell.

You heard John begging, swearing he didn't mean to hurt you like that and you didn't care. What mattered was how he still did it.

You opened your eyes staring angrily at the hero still lying on the ground. You walked up to him and saw John tensing and closing on himself before you grabbed the man by the collar. Without a word, you back-slapped like he was a bitch, splitting open his lip before grabbing his jaw like he did to you. You leaned down until your nose brushed his.

- “Listen here you pathetic excuse of a man; you are nothing. You are not a hero, you are not perfect and you are not an inspiration. The only thing you are is a childish man who can't take no for an answer and can't live without the approval of the world.” Your words hit home as you saw tears building up in John’s eyes and you sneered again. “You are pathetic. Truly pathetic. The world loves the fake image of you and would turn on you at the first opportunity. Their love is conditional unlike mine and yet you chose those worms over me. I who had always been here for you no matter what. I who helped you bond with your bastard son and helped you when no one wanted to. I bloodied my hands for you! And after everything that how you thank me?”

Venom filled your words as you stared at your lover. John was silently crying and looked away, not daring to look at you. You felt betrayed, and humiliated. You did so much for that man child and he turned against you so easily. You didn't want to see him anymore, wanted him gone from your sight.

- “Think about it John. Who will take care of you when you are old and your body is betraying you? Who will be there for you when the world cheer for a younger and more attractive hero? Them? Your so-called fans? No. They won't, but I would have.” You said, turning your back to him as you walked away. “Now get out.”

- “I’m sorry! I didn't…” John tried but stopped as you turned your head, eyes filled with anger.

- “GET OUT.” You snarled.

And just like that John was gone. A soft breeze caressed your face after he flew away. Sighing, you cleaned the room and threw away your jaw. The pain still lingered and you massaged your chin before sighing. You hated fighting with John like that, but recently it was every other day. The more time passed the more he became unhinged and impulsive. You could barely recognize the man who sought love and attention, the man who melted under your hands at night seemed gone.

It was late that night when John came back. He didn't call, didn't text. He just showed up. You were in bed reading a book in the light of a candle when you heard your front door opening. Only John had a spare so you knew it was him.

He didn't come up directly and you ignored him. You were still angry at his stunt and, frankly, didn't wish to see him. Not right now, not tomorrow. But there he was, walking into your home as if it was his.

After a few minutes, you heard John walking up the stairs and coming toward your room. You didn't look up when he entered nor when he called your name with a timid and soft voice. Instead you clenched your book harder.

- “I thought I told you to get the fuck out of my house, John. What are you doing here?” You asked, voice cold as you turned the page of your book.

Your lover didn't answer. Instead, John approached the bed and put down a mix of things; a gift basket filled with your favorite snacks and drinks and another full of books. Sighing, you closed your book and turned your attention on John.

There he stood in civilian clothes and his head low. His eyes were still red and puffy from crying. Had you not been angry at him you would have hugged John. But you were still pissed off.

- “I am so sorry for what I did and said.” John whispered, looking away as he sat on the edge of the mattress. “I have no excuses and you are right. You've always been there for me and you didn't deserve any of this, but I did.”

You could see tears in his eyes and the sight was almost pitiful. Of course, John couldn't live up with what he did and would regret his actions. You didn't. The brat had deserved your words and hands.

- “I don't want… I can not lose you…” John whispered so low that you barely heard it.

You sighed and leaned back against your pillows, crossing your arms and studying him. John was clearly remorseful and you knew he had his lesson, for now at least. Shaking your head you gently tapped the mattress next to you and John didn't wait to lay down. He wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face against your chest. You brushed his blond hair with your fingers, heart almost getting softer as you saw how happy he was now.

- “You are losing me, John. I don't know what the fuck is going on with you, but stop it. I don't have the patience to deal with your childish tantrum just because a picture of us leaked on the internet. We are celebrities, it's going to keep happening.” You said and your lover held you tighter. “Hush now. I forgive you this time, but I might not give you another chance.”

John nodded and didn't let go. You kept brushing his hair and let your fingers down his neck. He was cold, colder than normal and you could feel his heartbeat racing. He was scared and terrified which pleased you. Maybe he wouldn't go against you anymore, maybe he would stop thinking he could do as he wished.

After all, he was your pet, yours to use as you wished and you couldn't have a bad dog by your side. As much as you loved John, you didn't want him if he was to lose his mind and become a liability. But at that moment he looked so small and delicate in your arms, almost broken and you couldn't resist him.

You smiled as you felt his body relax against you as he slowly fell asleep. Maybe you could use his fear and remorse against him. Maybe you could force him to come clean about your relationship. Not now, the fight was still too fresh but soon enough he might give in. And once you were out to the world, John would truly be yours entirely.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Gyan Abhishek is standing in front of a giant touch screen, like Jim Cramer on Mad Money or an ESPN talking head analyzing a football play. He’s flicking through a Facebook feed of viral, AI-generated images. “The post you are seeing now is of a poor man that is being used to generate revenue,” he says in Hindi, pointing with his pen to an image of a skeletal elderly man hunched over being eaten by hundreds of bugs. “The Indian audience is very emotional. After seeing photos like this, they Like, Comment and share them. So you too should create a page like this, upload photos and make money through Performance bonus.”  He scrolls through the page, titled “Anita Kumari,” which has 112,000 followers and almost exclusively posts images of emaciated, AI-generated people, natural disasters, and starving children. He pauses on another image of a man being eaten by bugs. “They are getting so many likes,” he says. “They got 700 likes within 2-4 hours. They must have earned $100 from just this one photo. Facebook now pays you $100 for 1,000 likes … you must be wondering where you can get these images from. Don’t worry. I’ll show you how to create images with the help of AI.”

[...]

Abhishek has 115,000 YouTube subscribers, dozens of instructional videos, and is part of a community of influencers selling classes and making YouTube content about how to go viral on Facebook with AI-generated images and other types of spam. These influencers act much like financial influencers in the United States, teaching other people how to supposedly spin up a side hustle in order to make money by going viral on Facebook and other platforms. Part of the business model for these influencers is, of course, the fact that they are themselves making money by collecting ad revenue from YouTube and by selling courses and AI prompts on YouTube, WhatsApp and Telegram. Many of these influencers go on each others’ podcasts to discuss strategies, algorithm changes, and loopholes. I have found hundreds of videos about this, many of which have hundreds of thousands or millions of views.   But the videos make clear that Facebook’s AI spam problem is one that is powered and funded primarily by Facebook itself, and that most of the bizarre images we have seen over the last year are coming from Microsoft’s AI Image Creator, which is called “Bing Image Creator” in instructional videos.

[...]

The most popular way to make money spamming Facebook is by being paid directly by Facebook to do so via its Creator Bonus Program, which pays people who post viral content. This means that the viral “shrimp Jesus” AI and many of the bizarre things that have become a hallmark of Zombie Facebook have become popular because Meta is directly incentivizing people to post this content.

6 August 2024

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 18: Bewitched

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Disclaimer: Please note that this is set in the 60s (like the original series) so there are some traditional dynamics. Also, some of the pairings were just made for plot convenience, I support all the ships without prejudice!

You woke up feeling like it was an important day. It was an important day.

You had received your first invitation to a neighborhood party after a few months of living there, and you were excited about it. Your husband was used to all those human rituals, but you, only since your marriage, had been exposed to them and didn’t know what to expect.

Your friendly and somewhat gossip-loving neighbor, Penelope Alvez, had been the one to extend the invitation. Your husband and hers had the same job and were quite good friends, so she thought it was a great idea to organize a gathering to strengthen the bond.

“I’m home!” called a male voice, as always, exactly at 6:30 p.m.

Your husband had chosen a black suit, white shirt, and a black tie with silver stripes that he had received for Christmas. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his beard was starting to show. You loved any look he had, but the element of maturity his facial hair gave him had always been a weakness for you. He was one of those men who aged like fine wine.

“Good to see you, my love,” you said softly, in the midst of the mess that was your kitchen. He approached to greet you with a kiss on the lips and smiled as he noticed all the ingredients scattered on the table, the counter, the floor…

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

“Something to take to the Alvez's house. Isn’t it customary to bring something when you’re invited?”

“Yes, but… you don’t know how to bake.”

“Of course I know how to bake!” you squeaked, feeling offended. It was half-true, as you usually used magic to get decent meals. “I mean, I’m learning, but I’m trying hard.”

“I know, I know. But you could have told me, and I would’ve bought something on my way home, so you wouldn’t have to worry.”

“Let me do this, okay? I know I can.”

Spencer smiled compassionately, touched by your attempt to make a carrot cake. After the shocking revelation (for him) that you came from a powerful line of witches, the two of you had tried to live a life without magic to keep your marriage peaceful. Of course, your mother didn’t agree with this, upset that you were, in her words, lowering yourself and denying your nature.

However, you loved him enough to sacrifice the use of your powers if it meant being able to have a family with that man. No matter anyone’s opinion, it was just the two of you.

Of course, you didn’t completely abandon the use of your abilities, but you mostly did so when he couldn’t notice. After all, household chores were much easier with a little magical help.

“Okay, do you need me to help with anything? It’s almost time to go. I don’t know if you want to shower, get ready, or…”

“No. Don’t worry. I’ve got it.”

You were stubborn—your husband knew that and accepted it when you decided to marry. That’s why he stepped out of your space, not wanting to create any unnecessary tension. You just needed time to calm down and carry out your plans.

Half an hour later, he came to check if you were ready, only to find you on the verge of tears in the kitchen. There was a nearly burned cake on the table, a poorly made frosting, and decorating items scattered everywhere. It was chaos.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?”

“It’s horrible! I’m a disaster,” you sobbed, approaching him to let him wrap you in his arms.

“You’re not a disaster; you’re learning,” he reassured you, holding back laughter. Gently, he removed some carrot bits that had somehow ended up in your hair and stroked your back sweetly. “It doesn’t look that bad. We can still save it.”

“I’ll bring it in a container, and… I don’t know, maybe that way it’ll look less awful.”

He encouraged you to do just that, and after helping you pack it up, you got ready to go. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t use a little magic to look better and change your outfit in a couple of minutes. And although your husband suspected it, he didn’t say anything.

Spencer offered you his arm to help you avoid tripping in those little blue heels you were wearing, and then you both walked to your neighbors’ house. You looked nervous when you realized you weren’t the only family attending, and your husband urged you to relax, somewhat amused by how much importance you were placing on it all.

“Good evening! Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Come in, come in!”

The blonde woman with glasses hugged you as soon as she saw you and took the liberty of kissing your cheeks. Behind her was a man who greeted your husband, whom you assumed was Mr. Alvez.

“Thank you for inviting us…”

“Don’t mention it! I was dying to meet my new neighbor,” Penelope murmured, giving you a mischievous look. You felt as if she was trying to tell you she knew your secret.

Spencer encouraged you to enter, placing his hand gently on the small of your back and nudging you forward. Once inside, you met several people: the millionaire, divorced, and eccentric Mr. David Rossi, the LaMontagne family—husband, wife, and two kids—the Morgans, and lastly, a man named Aaron Hotchner, his son Jack, and Jack’s stepmother, Emily Prentiss.

The men were already drinking whiskey and champagne, while the women were chatting peacefully. You asked the hostess where you could put the container with the dreadful creation you had made, and she accompanied you to the kitchen.

“Penelope is obsessed with your wife. She doesn’t even pay me this much attention,” Luke teased once the women had left. “She’s convinced your wife makes things appear out of thin air and says the flowers in your garden are so beautiful because your wife takes care of them with magic and all that.”

“What… what things, that’s ridiculous,” he laughed, trying to sound nonchalant but feeling strange about Penelope’s deduction.

Had she really seen you practicing magic?

“She has a very active imagination. And sometimes she gets bored at home,” he murmured. The truth was, he didn’t believe the woman: he thought she was just pulling his leg.

But your husband, being more perceptive, started to reflect on what it meant for someone in the neighborhood to already be suspecting your particular condition. You both stayed somewhat apart during the gathering, as he wanted to give you a chance to socialize with the women. You know, to get out of the routine a bit.

At some point in the night, he saw Emily coming out of the kitchen with a slice of meringue cake that looked simply delicious, and Spencer excused himself from the other men to investigate.

“Where did you get that?”

“Uh… your wife brought it?” she laughed, a bit confused.

“My wife?”

“Ugh, men. You didn’t even notice what she baked!” the woman exclaimed, scolding him playfully. “It’s delicious, by the way,” she added, tasting the strangely perfect white meringue cream.

Spencer figured it wasn’t a matter of distraction—he knew you hadn’t brought that with you. He went in search of the dessert and saw that, indeed, a beautiful pastry was sitting on the table.

“She’s got a gift, Spencer! It’s almost like she has magic in her hands!” Penelope laughed as she cut a piece for herself before leaving the kitchen to rejoin the group.

He had a glass of champagne in hand as he approached you.

“Ladies, may I steal my wife for a moment?” he asked politely toward the group of women you were with.

You knew something was wrong when he looked at you, and as you walked over to him, you mentally reviewed what could have upset him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why is it that all of a sudden we brought a perfectly baked cake to the gathering?” he whispered through his teeth, keeping a calm expression. Everyone could have easily thought you were having a loving conversation.

“I can explain…”

“Love, you know the whole no-magic thing is for our safety. It’s not just some whim; it’s an agreement we made.”

“Do you not love me anymore?”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” he immediately replied, sounding exasperated. “I’m just saying you can do that at home, but… I don’t want anyone to find out, okay? I’m worried it could put you in danger.”

“No one will die because I fixed a cake, darling,” you exclaimed, pouting. Spencer feared you might be misunderstanding his words and getting upset, so he leaned in slightly to kiss your lips.

“Don’t be mad,” you said, looking at him in that way that made him melt, as you placed your hands carefully on his chest, almost at his neck “We’ll talk about this at home, okay?”

You sighed discontentedly, then glanced aside. The glass in his hand was almost empty, so you thought it would be a good idea to refill it with magic, even though he had explicitly told you not to use it in public a second ago. He said your name in a scolding tone.

“No one’s paying attention, Spence,” you defended yourself, nodding toward the group of people happily chatting. “But fine, I won’t do any more magic. It’s just that… everyone here brought such beautiful things, and I was afraid they wouldn’t like what we brought.”

Your husband, a bit calmer now, smiled briefly and leaned in to kiss you again, more deeply this time.

“I don’t want you to feel like you can’t fit in without your magical abilities. But I also don’t want you to deny who you are. I just want to protect you, my little witch.”

You fell silent, unsure of how to respond to that, and then you leaned against his chest, silently asking him to hold you. He kissed the top of your head, and then you heard someone laughing.

“Save that for home, tiger. You’ll have plenty of time to spoil her later.”

Everyone laughed at Derek’s joke, and you both pulled away, your cheeks slightly flushed from embarrassment.

“Come join us. Reid still hasn’t told us the story of how you two fell in love, and I’m sure everyone’s dying to hear it,” Emily encouraged, sitting on the couch next to her husband.

Spencer took your hand to lead you over, and you both joined the conversation. Later, when you saw him arrive with a slice of meringue cake, you couldn’t help but give him a reproachful look, but he just shrugged and winked at you.

If you had already used your magic, you might as well enjoy it.

[anthurak]

You know that "Mundane super power" aspect you mentioned?

Another thing I like about crossing over RWBY characters with other settings is how easily their nature as basically coming from an apocalyptic hell-world can bleed through.

This is hard to articulate, but like.

The casual way in which towns disappear, that ruins dot the landscape, that people like Ruby & Yang grew up immersed in a culture that trended towards violence and early graves.

There's a nifty Naruto/Stargate crossover, (Its complicated) where Himawari kind of subtly disturbs the Stargate crew cos she knows exactly how best to behave in a dangerous situation, doesn't really seem bothered when enemies die and has been taught stuff like "Reading the battlefield."

I think RWBY characters would be similarly off-putting in their own way unless they were incredibly sheltered like Jaune or rich enough to have not ever encountered a Grimm until the the Beacon Test like Weiss. & even then, the lived experience, training and cultural awareness means they'd likely still come off as a little off-putting.

This also plays into how Ruby and Yang are seemingly quite... Not comfortable, but functional about the prospect of causing death or grievous bodily harm in a way most Shounen/action protags aren't.

Ruby, as far as she knew, sent Neo hurtling to her death in V3 and was at most momentarily shocked when Roman died & forgot all about it. Yang processed killing Adam in a very straightforward manner, she's not cavalier about it, but she'd made peace with it being a them or us situation right quick.

There's plenty of other examples but I think we've discussed it before.

But yeah, I just think its fun, even in series that can have similar degrees of destruction or death, their relative youth and manner with it would likely still make many locals be like (oO) & I think that's fun.

Oh yeah, this has always been a great idea for RWBY crossovers.

And one of my favorite/most interesting parts about is, as you touched on, how subtle Team RWBY’s whole vibe is and how it can potentially sneak up on others.

Like Team RWBY and really most of the show’s characters generally DON’T give off any real obvious ‘I come from a fucked-up deathworld’ vibes like being real dark, broody or even just looking anything the part. For anyone from a much more mundane setting/background, Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang generally come off as a friendly, likeable, good natured bunch without really anything all that offputting.

For about… eighty to ninety percent of the time.

But then you’ve got those 10-20% moments where the dark, serious ‘fantasy war-veteran’ sides of Team RWBY slip out. Like they might not even have been trying to hide it, it just comes out when things get serious.

Like maybe there is some big disaster or some other terrible event perhaps caused by the villains that leaves the more ‘normal’ characters/heroes frozen in shock and horror, meanwhile RWBY are just immediately jumping into the fray to fight or help however they can. With perhaps one or more doing the whole ‘slap the shock’ out of the other characters with a ‘We got work to do!’. And it’s just kind of… unsettling how Team RWBY takes these events in stride.

Or to build off your point on Ruby and Yang, as well as Blake and Weiss, being ‘functionally alright’ with hurting/killing people*, there’s a LOT of juicy potential there for when Team RWBY goes up against more mundane villains.

Like just picture a situation where a villain is threatening innocents in a classic ‘you’ll have to KILL ME to stop me!’ standoff that has the heroes freezing up… only for Ruby to almost immediately just shoot said villain.

She certainly looks like she didn’t enjoy or even want to do it, but both how quickly she did it and how easily she seems to role with it afterwards are just REALLY unsettling.

And then there’s what I’d call the FLIPSIDE to all this in how Team RWBY deals with being in a world that might NOT actually be filled with monsters who are an ever-present existential threat to humanity.

Like even for someone who grew up more sheltered like Weiss that is almost certainly going to be a MASSIVE culture-shock. Not to mention that the only people with a frame of reference that Team RWBY would be able to talk to about this would likely be each other.

Even in settings that might have some kind of monsters threatening humanity such as most magical girl shows, the appearance and threat that these monsters pose are almost always a very RECENT occurrence that most people might not even know about. Generally in these settings, the ‘normal, mundane world’ IS the norm, with the dangerous and supernatural merely popping up on and off in isolated places.

It could really create this interesting contrast where Team RWBY finds the mundane world that their new friends consider ‘normal’ to be just a bit uncanny and unsettling. And even finding it a bit comforting when monsters or some other supernatural threat to fight shows up because that feels more NORMAL to them.

This is actually something I tried/am still trying to explore in my Kingdom Hearts crossover fic. Like Ruby musing on how to explain her whole huntress background to Sora, Kairi and Riku when to them, monsters are things that have existed in storybooks, while for Ruby monsters have always been REAL. Or Ruby even noting a comforting ‘return to normal’ when she starts fighting the Heartless.

I’ve even got ideas for Ruby, as well as Weiss, Blake and Yang further on, idly musing on whether the Grimm or Heartless are the worse to fight, with some of their new friends being just a BIT weirded out.

And that’s not even getting into the potential of Team RWBY interacting with various Disney movie settings. Like I’ll admit that I kinda REALLY want to have Ruby boom-headshot at least one Disney villain XD

*I will say, I’ve had a theory for a while that Ruby, even more so than her teammates, has particular ideological reasons to generally avoid killing people, specifically when we consider how Ruby specifically DOESN’T use her ‘walking grimm-blender’ style of fighting against human opponents. Personally I imagine Ruby seeing it as ‘I hunt MONSTERS, not people.’ That being said, I don’t see Ruby as having some strict ‘no-killing’ ‘one rule’, but rather that she views taking a life as a last resort.

[horizon-verizon]

People who see the dragons as nukes who must die are completely misinterpreting the story. Let’s apply this analysis to the books though. Does Daenerys receive 3 deactivated nukes as a gift in her wedding day ? Does she press a nuke against her pregnant belly and the chemicals inside of it reach out to her unborn child ? Does she lay 3 nukes in her husband’s funeral pyre to honor him ? Does she lovingly hold and breastfeed 3 nukes ? Does Jon Snow wish that he had a nuke to fight off the freezing cold ? Does Arya consider nukes to be her friends ? Does young Tyrion beg his uncles for a nuke so he can be less lonely ?

Dragons aren’t single purpose objects, they’re living, thinking, breathing creatures, and Daenerys specifically views them as such, she literally thinks of them as her children. Historically, the dragons were essentially enslaved by the blood bond and the problem was that they were used by people who viewed them as weapons first and foremost. Daenerys (a character who is extremely invested in liberation by the way) being mother of dragons, specifically, as in giving them life and literally nursing them herself, is meant to show how her relationship to the dragons is unique from her ancestors. They aren’t just a bunch of flying weapons to her.

Dragons are the living embodiment of a primordial natural magical force (fire), and their extinction was caused by misogyny, human ambition, greed, and by people in the story doing exactly what the “dragons are nukes” crowd does, which is look at them as just Big Weapon (e.g. Aemond and Daeron), and said extinction is heavily implied to be the reason winters are getting harsher (“the summers have been shorter since the last dragon died, and the winters longer and crueler”, “the real enemy is the cold”).  Calling them nuclear weapons is wayyyy missing the point. It was the greater Valyrian sin of trying to control and dominate nature/magic and bend it to their whims that lead to chaos (hello The Doom and hello Valyria Fanboy Euron), which manifested in the dragon lords like the Targaryens as them controlling dragons, but “dragons are nukes” flattens the theme and misses the forest for the trees, and it’s why you get absolutely mind numbing takes like “yeah George brought back the dragons after centuries of extinction just to kill them all off again after two years in existence because Magic Bad”.

I talked about dragons, their symbolism, etc. HERE.

George at one point did compare dragons to nuclear "deterrents" when he speaks about Dany being the most powerful person in the world in 🔗a Vulture article:

When civilizations clash in your books, instead of Guns, Germs, and Steel, maybe it's more like Dragons, Magic, and Steel (and also Germs). There is magic in my universe, but it's pretty low magic compared to other fantasies. Dragons are the nuclear deterrent, and only Dany has them, which in some ways makes her the most powerful person in the world. But is that sufficient? These are the kind of issues I'm trying to explore. The United States right now has the ability to destroy the world with our nuclear arsenal, but that doesn't mean we can achieve specific geopolitical goals. Power is more subtle than that. You can have the power to destroy, but it doesn't give you the power to reform, or improve, or build.

and GRRM does bring it up to express that dragons are so destructive that one can't use their fire for everything, for every problem when it might spell so much disaster. I think you can use dragons more often if the situation will not spiral out of control--Dragonfire does not persist when one attempts to put it out (like with wildfyre) so its destructiveness is not in the exact same scope or horror as a radioactive nuclear missile that can leave behind radiation/devastation for years afterward...nor does it have the sort of reach these modern weapons have.

Dragonfire remains relatively within tighter confines of its targets unless you got really dry ground and don't put it out in time. The reason why dragonfire is compared to nuclear warfare is because like nuclear weapons now in the real digital-age, modern world, for the world it exists in dragonfire is the most powerful possible weapon of war.

It's about how Dany or anyone uses and regards dragons and others' own conceptions of magic and strength/danger that will make/break how they will perceive dragons. Not that dragons are innately evil; you sound like an overly superstitious and hypocritical Seven septon/over zealous Christian that way.

[kiwi-but-the-bird-not-the-fruit]

I really like your Nefero. How about a story where he helps femReader with her look. Like, one day, I'm talking fashion disaster. Reader is going through it and to make things worse it's picture day! And Reader and Nefero planned also do it couples photos! When Nefero gets a call from his girlfriend that in desperation, he comes to recuse with a army of help from his home's staff

Thank you for your time.

Thanks for the request (^v^)

This sounds AMAZING!!

Love our fashion couple,this is gonna be good.

____________________________________________

Male! Nefara x fem!reader

Prompt- reader has a bad makeup & outfit  morningd and needs immediate help from her boyfriend and it's senior picture day with also couples pictures in the next few hours! We have code fashion emergency

Using [Name] as substitute for (y/n)

Fluff/ comfort/kisses

Nickname for the reader- my jewel or my queen

(Readers Nickname for nefero in here with I'll probably use from now on for any fics with him hehe)

(H/c) Hair color

(H/t) Hair type

(There's not that much fanart so I'm using what I find so it may repeat sometimes.)

*Art not ime found it on pinterest*

____________________________________________

___________________________________________

It's 6:30 am senior picture day and a ghoul is stressing more than ever before.

We see [Name] in her lush (f/c) bedroom, she is seen frantically rushing back and forth to the mirror and the closet, she holds up different skirts and crop tops in a rush.

"What to wear what to wear"

She tried one look "ugh no" and another "disgusting" and one more out of a hundred she had tried on "this is unmatchable and not what I need for our photo shoot"

She wears shorts and a crop tank top to help her see easier what would work but as she picks up and throws clothes all around it's quickly becoming stuffy in the room.

She curses under her breath and instantly thinks "maybe if I do my makeup first I can pick my picture Day outfit more easier" rushing to her vanity , picking up the essentials she quickly makes a base for her eyeshadow, she looks through her drawer picks up the eyeshadow pallets she recently got from her boyfriend as a in his words "a pallet with reds and greens that show my two favorite thing,  money and you since you are my scarlet fire that burns within me"

She smiled as she applied the vibrant and rusty colors on her eyelids. Moments later she looks at herself and frowns

It all looks wrong. The way it looked so smeared like a toddler was the one to help her, the shimmers were all over the place, the blend was outrageously horrid and why did she start with red instead of green to be easier to show up!

"Ughh what is going on with me!" She screeched throwing the makeup brush strongly to the ground, [Name] grabs the makeup remover and reusable rag and dunks a ton of it, she sneers at her reflection. Then vigorously wiped her face in anger.

Stopping for a second looking at herself again she noticed her long (h/c) (h/t) was not as good now as when she started this horror show.

Tears start to sting and drip down from her cheek down to the vanity  "w-why now *sob* i- I can't be this bad at doing something so easy...it's second nature to be good at this *snif* *hiccup*"

She looks at the clothes discarded on the floor and walks to them, "i need to call Nefie *sniff* i-i need him" she thought of how they were supposed to be doing a couples photo shoot and she wouldn't disappoint him it was special for him and her

Going through the piles of clothes she finds her phone in the small plush seat she had in front of the mirror that got forgotten at the start of her panic.

She drops to her knees onto the soft lavish rug she got as a gift from him as she makes the call.

                           RING RING-

it takes only two ring for her loving boyfriend to pick up the phone "my jewel good morni-" he stops as he heard her sniffling "WHO HURT YOU" he demands making her slightly laugh be it breathy between sniffles "N-no one Nefie I'm *sigh**snif* I'm having a terrible time getting ready and- can you come I need you here" her voice was soft yet rigged, tired & honestly done with today even if it hadn't started "I'll be there in five" he states before hanging up

5 minutes exactly [Name] hears the familiar sound of Nefero's limo and another one?

And as fast as she question there where rapid footsteps going up from the stairs and straight to her room "SLAM" the door opens to reveal Nefero dressed as handsome and beautiful as he is with dark green velvet bell bottoms with a matching suit, a dress shirt opens to reveal his chest, adorn with layered golden dainty necklaces with one that had a crimson red diamond to represent his darling.

"My queen" he said with extreme tenderness Nefero gets on his knees and embraces her in his strong gentle arms, caressing her back as she cries new tears not of frustration as she did only moments ago but of happiness that he was here to comfort her and help, truly touching to her ghoulish soul

She hugs him tight her grip strong it seems to dumb but this is just good

"Take deep breaths with me jewel" and she did in and out, holding him and vice versa after a few minutes she lifted he head up and looked at his purple eyes, smiling "thank you for being here" [Name] leaned forward and kissed him,  broke the kiss "whatever the cost I'll gamble my way yo see you" he proclaimed "now let's help you up" taking her by one hand and another on her back he pulled her up from the ground.

Nefero looked at her up and down "now let's see what we can do, you up for being my model this morning?" Grinning [Name] replied "always... especially now haha"

Nefero claps his hands and comes in a group of professional fashion artist, makeup artists.

"Now let's get this going for you my queen" he took her hand and lead her to her vanity that was immediately cleaned out except for foundation, pallets and other things, Nefero sat her down went straight to the makeup artist told him the theme, the artist came in front of [Name] and got straight to work.

He did greens & golds with red shimmers and eyeliner that could kill and lashes that fitted on top of the ones you had.

Nefero was seated next to you as the fashion artists worked and got his approval for dresses, skirts, tops all while having one hand on his lap and the other on your thigh,squeezing  just right, every once in a while when he found something he definitely approved of being a specific dress or looking at the progress on your gorgeous face but mostly looking at your lips.

"I'm loving this my jewel~" he held a hand to his mouth practically foaming, looking at her made his mad and week at the knees, the overbearing feelings to just worship her as many did when he was alive was a thrilling feeling he liked, to be on his knees for only her~

"Thank you Nefie~ I like anything you put or take off me" She lowered her tone leaning towards his face as the makeup artist was looking for something to the far side of the long vanity

Nefero blushed, his eyes filled with desire. He took a long breath, his chest heaving, hands itchy to touch.

"Alright just the setting spray and we are done" they came back and sprits her face.

"Good now for my favorite part♡" Nefero jumped up from the chair took [Name]'s hand and to the front of the tall mirror, there were three stylists holding different clothes that she hadn't seen before which means Nefero had for sure got for her before the original mess.

They were lined up with one holding short and long dresses, the second holding short skirts and long shirts, the third holding tops cropped and not.

Nefero went up to the first one and said "my jewel this one if most definitely for today" he held up a red velvet short dress with a backless heart and a green velvet bow that tied around her waist, he signed for everyone to leave.

" i thought the green would be a good reminder that you are my crimson fire and I will always be the fool who marchers toward it holding it for warmth" he held her face delicately, [Name] smiled " and I'll for the rest of my being subside my radiant flames to keep you within my embers"

They embrace each other with a kiss soft and warm just the way they liked

  ~~~~                                                     ~~~~

At the room for the pictures it was empty after everyone had gone, the happy couple liked that it was just them.

And as they held eachother close & intimate, smiling calmy just enough it reach their eyes you could see a glint in them both since they only looked at eachother.

__________________________________________

Nickname for nefero is Nefie

I'll fix some grammar that passed me later but here it is!

@myjerseygirlblog

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

oh hey you write for helluva boss!!! could i request something platonic for blitzø? (had no romantic ideas in my head atm)

+ just being blitzø's favorite person to be around and the crazy things you'd both like to get into together

ty 🤍 ;)

yes. omg yes.

i love blitz, and helluva is my other favorite show LOL

platonic headcanons/ficlets coming up

we all know this disaster of an imp cares about people… but he has a funny way of showing it.

like he once brought you in this fucked up looking license plate, you guessed, but it said princess on it.

you both had been talking about royalty the night before and you said you always wanted to be a princess

thus the fucked up license plate

he also once brought you a rock

said it reminded him of you

you still have it

you both have shit sleep schedules too, so he’ll call you for late night shenanigans

the phone on your night stand was ringing and as you looked over you saw it was Blitz.

“Why are you up this late?” you ask answering the phone.

“Why are you up this late bitch?” Blitz snarks back.

“Touché. Whaddya want?” You ask, turning down your TV.

“Whatcha watchin’?” he asked.

“That damn show you told me about a week ago.” You sighed.

“AH! I told you you’d love it!” Blitz gleefully lets out.

“You wanna come over don’t you?” Your voice deadpans, knowing what was happening.

“What episode are you on?” Comes the sly question from the other end.

“Season 2 Episode 4.”

“Damn, what are you doing binging that shit?” Blitz exclaims.

“Why? What are you on?” You ask.

“Episode one of season two!” he says.

“Come over, I’ll queue it up and I can rewatch.”

“Fuck ya! I’ll be right there.” Blitz says and you hear movement.

“Bring snacks! I got drinks.” You say, getting up to get the drinks.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. See you in 10.”

loona loves you though.

blitz loves this because there aren’t many people he can trust to help him get loona to the doctor. you can help though.

and when you go on missions with them

blitz has told you they are jobs!

they’re missions to you

but when you work with him yall are bad ass.

you naturally have eachothers back without even thinking.

you both once ended up at an overlord meeting…

don’t ask but the overlords of pride somehow think you’re both new overlords.

you tell him blitz he’s a dumb ass when he talks about stolas and how their relationship is just transactional

you call him out on his feelings and you are the only one he tells how he actually feels.

you both do dumb stuff together, but you’re there for each other.

[honey-flustered]

Kinktober Day 10: Chastity

Pre-Serum!Steve Rogers x Dark!Nun!Reader

Summary: What if you convinced Steve Rogers to never become thee Captain America and instead remain a virgin loser for your entertainment.

Warnings: 18+ smut, male chastity device, dom!reader, kissing, reader rides dildo, mutual orgasm, manipulation, some fluff and angst, body insecurities (steve)

You held his head against your bosom, stroking his hair. His arms are tight around your body yet respectful not to linger anywhere inappropriate, tears soaking through the material of your robe.

Steve hates being so vulnerable in front of anyone other than his best friend, Bucky. It’s already bad enough that’s ‘the little guy’ so everyone expects that of him. But somehow you were able to break down his walls. Maybe it’s because of the maternal nature you possess or that you hadn’t laughed at him when he’d told you that he has never been with a woman. Either way he’s found some comfort in you.

You tug on the hair at the back of his neck; bringing his tear-stained face back to your gentle, smiling one. He looks up at you with unshed tears that make his eyes spark from the dim spotlight within the confessional.

“Oh, Stevie,” You coo, stroking a thumb over his cheek. “You should know that there is always a place for you here in our church. And you don’t have to change anything about yourself in order to be happy. God made you in his image and he makes no mistakes.”

“Then, why? Why do I feel so wrong?” He sniffles, wanting to pull away from you despite the crammed booth having little space for either of you to part. Still, you press into him; his back against the wall. “M-maybe Project Rebirth is a sign from God. It could be good for me. I can finally be a hero.”

You take his delicate hands in yours, locking your fingers together and holding them in between your bodies. “You are wonderfully and fearfully made, Steven. That Project Rebirth you speak of is unnatural. A serum that makes people stronger? Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. Join our church. Stay with me.”

Your cinnamon breath tickles the surface of his lips as you part your arms slightly, leaning in closer, fingers still interlocked.

“But what about giving our country a fighting chance? What about duty? Saving lives?” He asks. “Doesn’t any of that matter?”

“Of course,” You say. “But that shouldn’t be for you to worry about. You can still save lives here. Maybe not in the conventional ways but it’ll be just as important.”

“And how about the way I look? I want to know what love is like. To have a woman I can call my own and marry her. I can’t have that if no woman has ever looked my way. I-I’ll never know the sweet bliss of…” Steve hopes to choose his words carefully, not wanting to offend a holy woman such as yourself. “Being intimate with a woman. My friend Bucky tells me all about it and I could only dream of it. He does a lot of things I can only dream of, in fact.“

“If strength and intimacy is what you seek, then I can show you a much more honorable and godly way of obtaining it without having to inject any questionable substances into your bloodstream.“

“What is it?” He asks, almost pleading, “I’ll do whatever it takes in order to find my purpose. I’ll be good.”

“Oh, I know you will, Steven,” You lap your tongue across his lips receiving a gasp from him. His lips, now parted, allow you to dip your tongue into his mouth, licking his tongue and teeth before parting ways. “Your virginity is your best asset.”

“I don’t understand.” A single tear streams down his cheek, feeling as if he’s at his wits end.

“Steven, I’m going to show you just how strong you can be, just as you are now, by playing to your strengths,” You explain. “Chastity. It’s strength in resilience. If you practice it long enough, you won’t feel the need to desire such trivial things like glory and sex. Desire is of the flesh and that’s ungodly. But I have faith in you, Steven. I know you’ll resist the urge to be enveloped in the inner walls of a woman ever in your life.”

“Ever?” He pouts.

“Ever,” You echo, breathing against his neck. “But you can still feel really good.”

“W-where do we begin?” He asks softly, body involuntarily arching when your thick thighs straddle his skinny leg.

“We’ll begin your first lesson now,” Your hands slip beneath his shirt, lightly scratching his happy trail. “Let’s get you to my room.”

You exit the confessional and Steve mourns the loss of your warmth against him. With your hand outstretched you wait for him to take it. Once he does, you lead him around the convent. At the door to your room, you scan around the area to assure there isn’t anyone around before you’re pulling him inside by the collar.

“Have a seat.” You purr and he obeys.

You rummage through your drawer, retrieving a male chastity cage with a dildo attachment and holding it up for him to see.

“Is that meant for me?” He asks, cowering a little.

“Yes, sweet boy, you’ll wear it and then you’ll get to fuck me with it on. You won’t ever actually get to be inside me but it’ll still feel really good.” You drop down on your knees at the edge of your bed, tugging his pants and underwear down.

He’s semi-hard, blushing when your eyes land on his cock.

“It’s so pretty, Steven. I wish I could taste you.” You admit, receiving a quiet mewl from him.

You take him in your hands hurriedly lock his member into the device. It’s a snug fit for him, uncomfortable as his penis had no room to swell. You kiss his thighs before crawling over him onto the bed and your mouth meets his in messy kisses. He’s sloppy because he is inexperienced at kissing and you’re sloppy because you truly desire him and have no patience to slow down.

You break away with a lingering suck of his tongue before you start removing clothing. His heart beats rapidly as he watches you. It’s not long before your bare breasts are exposed to him and all you’re left in is your black lace panties and matching garter and stockings.

“You’re breathtaking.” Steve gasps, wanting to reach a hand to touch you but he wanted your permission first. Reading his mind, you take one of his hands and bring it to cup your breast.

“It’s okay. You can touch every part of me,” You bring his hand to your wet core and his breath hitches. “Even right here, long as you don’t stick your fingers inside. Can’t have any form of penetration from any part of your body whatsoever.”

He nods, hooded eyes fluttering shut when you kiss him again mid-nod. Your hands rip open his shirt, the buttons skittering across the room. He’s officially naked, a blush painting his face red once he realizes this. His insecurities get the best of him as he tries to hide himself discreetly, pulling you down against him so you don’t check out his body. You pin his hands above his head and smile down at him.

“See? You’re perfect, Steven.” You say so warmly that it makes him tear up with joy. While one of your hands keeps his hands pinned, the other pulls your panties to the side as you sink down onto the small dildo. You groan, staring into his eyes as you take it inch by inch.

You build momentum and a soft ‘plap, plap, plap’ noise fills the air with every thrust inside you. Steve’s cock throbs as he watches your face contort with pleasure. It’s a delicious and agonizing feeling to see you get off but to not feel the reward of being inside you or having any release.

You curl a hand around his neck, squeezing lightly and he gurgles a whimper; the pleasure is like lightning through his body yet when it reaches his cock it builds and builds to no satisfying relief.

“Fuck, Steven,” You whine against his lips. “Wish it was your cock inside me instead. I’d want you to cum in me over and over.”

He can’t breathe. It’s torture. It’s paradise. Sweat clings to his forehead with the exertion from the intensity of the situation. “Please…fuck it’s so much.”

You hold his face in your hands, wiggling your tongue against his, “You’re doing so good for me, Steven. Taking your first lesson so well.”

He softly grazes his fingertips up and down your back, hoping the feather-touch would not only heighten your pleasure but increase his own sensitivity.

“What if we just forget about chastity,” You pants, grinding your hips down hard. “What if instead I take the real thing? You’ll finally get to know how tight, wet and warm I’d feel around your gorgeous cock.”

He so badly wanted to say yes but if he’s meant to prove his strength then he must decline. This was clearly a test.

“As much as I want to, I want you to be proud of me. So, I’ll have to say no.” Steve whimpers.

“You’re such a good boy,” You moan, kissing him deeply while you bounce hard against him until you’re screaming out your release. “Oh, Stevie, I love you!”

His eyes roll into the back of his head at your admission as he orgasms hard. It’s a new kind of feeling, one that is so foreign to him that holds onto you for support. Cum pools out of the device, sticky and clinging between your legs and spilling all over his stomach.

When you’re done using him—walls no longer flexing around the silicone toy—you lay beside him curling up against his side with your head resting on his bony chest.

“That was incredible.” He sighs out.

“You’re incredible,” You trace a finger along his stomach. “See how much fun you can have when you don’t let your desires weigh you down. You’ll be so strong in no time.”

“You really think so.” He asks with a dopey smile, showing off his biceps.

“Without a shadow of a doubt.” You smile wickedly.

[yanderes-galore]

Mikan (Danganronpa 2) w/ Clingy darling Platonic/Romantic

She'd... really need that, yeah—

Yandere! Mikan Tsumiki with Clingy! Darling

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Abuse (Mikan's past), Possessive behavior, Fear of abandonment, Clingy behavior (On both ends), PDA, Overly affectionate behavior, Drugging, Isolation, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Yikes... I'm pretty sure this girl is canonically a yandere at times.

She seems like she'd primarily be a romantic yandere, but she could probably also see her obsession as a friend.

She's meek, paranoid, and desperately needs validation.

She wants to be close to people, yet doesn't want to drive them off.

She's so used to disappointing people and being ignored that she isn't used to positive affection.

So... Her obsession giving her constant affection?

A recipe for disaster.

Mikan is used to being mistreated and bullied by her peers.

Having a positive connection with someone who willingly wants to spend time with her unnerves her a first.

She doesn't get it.

Why are you treating her in such a way?

Did she do something?

Mikan craves any sort of attention and validation.

The moment she gets it, she clings onto it.

We can see this in her Free Time events with Hajime.

In the game she canonically is clingy and stalks those she adores.

You probably stepped in to help her after one of her "accidents" or Hiyoko's bullying.

You're no doubt a naturally affectionate person and check her over.

She may be the Ultimate Nurse yet you still care enough to check for wounds or bruises.

Mikan is stunned when you first show care for her.

Poor girl isn't used to such attention.

You don't push her away or call her names.

You actually invite her to hang out more often during your time on the Island.

Mikan's puzzled and confused...

Yet she quickly begins to crave your attention.

Platonic, romantic, it's all a bit vague when it comes to her.

She just craves any attention from you.

To the point of doing things for your attention, such as her "accidents" or following you around.

Other people are put off by her behavior, for good reason.

But you? When she thinks you're going to push her away?

You just give more attention.

Mikan herself is already pretty clingy.

Maybe you yourself are naturally touchy with friends?

The first time you gave Mikan a hug to cheer her up, she freezes.

Although... She's quickly addicted.

I imagine Mikan doesn't have boundaries with you.

Any attention must be good attention.

She sits close to you, always wants hugs...

Hell, there's times she may even sit on your lap if it means you'll look at her.

The most tragic part of her character is her need for affection.

A clingy obsession is like a sweet poison to her.

Like sugar, affection may be nice in small doses.

Then it becomes bad for your health.

Mikan would do anything for your love and attention.

She forces herself on your lap, clings to your side, follows you around like a lost puppy...

If her attentions were romantic, she'd probably crave kisses too.

Affection with her blurs boundaries.

I'm talking even if you saw her in a platonic light... Mikan would cuddle you or sneak into your room for your warmth.

Y'know... Creepy behavior.

She's easily jealous, afraid you'd give such affection to someone else.

She does everything she can to prevent that.

Feeding her more and more attention is dangerous to you.

Soon, she just can't let you go anymore.

Mikan craves control... If she saw you being affectionate or clingy with another...

Who knows what she'll do?

Actually, here's an example.

Drugging.

In canon she has told Hajime she wishes she could force him to rely on her.

Imagine if she couldn't accept the fact you're clingy to anyone else.

As a result, she drugs you.

Maybe in your food, or when you sleep...

Just to cuddle you close... To know you're hers.

To her it doesn't matter how you feel about it or what the feelings you two have are.

She'd sleep in the same bed as you, wrap herself tightly around you...

Anything to keep you as hers.

Being affectionate or clingy may just escalate her obsession with you.

She wants to believe you two are the only ones for one another.

Friends, lovers, either way...

Mikan wants your attention.

She needs it.

She craves it.

Mikan doesn't care if she has to force you to rely on her to keep you to herself...

You were one of the first people to show her love...

She's going to keep you to herself no matter what.

[melkyt]

Life&Death Lawlu AU

Law with the power of death, the trope of everyone he touches dies. Self-isolating after he lost everyone he cared about from his cursed power, even if it was not directly. He moves through the world as a ghost, with nothing to call his own. He has friends, but he keeps a distance for their safety. Law can't stay in a city for long as anything crumbles to dust over time. He is a doctor, using his ability to heal people. As the killing effect starts slow when people are around him, it targets the little things, like cancers or viruses first.

Luffy with the power of life, everything he touches grows and grows without control, without anything to stop it. He doesn't isolate but more like people leave him, when it gets too much, when he gets too much, when his power goes out of control for the millionth time, and they can't handle it.

Luffy tries not to let it get to him, putting on a bright smile for the world. He moves from area to area without staying long enough for his power to make things grow and break everything in its path. His ability could cause just as much death as Law's. It also does not discriminate with what it makes grow, so a cancer or a virus will twist out of control,

The double-edged sword of their powers.

They meet by chance, in a city that recently went through shit, a natural disaster. With those in charge not doing anything to provide relief. Luffy heard about it and is there to use his growth to make the corruption come to light so he can show them what it means to have 'too much' in a way only he can.

Law is there providing relief, working as a traveling medic at the time; people usually call him out for much bigger disasters, like infectious diseases in places that do not have the infrastructure to handle them. Yet he is there because he hates such corruption and will show those responsible what it means to lose everything.

Them being in the same town, their powers clash and cancel each other out. An excess of growth is kept back by an excess of decay, and vice-versa. Law, who is always laser-focused on the signs that will tell him to move from an area, is confused because no plants are dying, and there is no scent of sickly rot in the air when he passes market stalls.

Luffy is not paying attention; he knows it's about a week before things start getting weird from his power, so he is just running head first to finish fcking ppl up before that deadline.

That is how they meet.

Law taking off his protective gloves (they are made of tough fabric that has to be replaced maybe once a month), examining a piece of fruit that is not turning to dust at his touch, and even more, it's not changing at all.

Luffy running through the same market, jumping over a food stall, not looking as he barrels straight into Law. They fall into a tangle of limbs.

Law stunned as his hand rests on Luffy's chest, and while the skin gets signs of decay but it quickly reverses as if nothing happened. Luffy says 'oops, sorry', jumping up and continuing in his mad dash.

Law looking at his hand then at Luffy like 'No fcking way.' His entire world view shaken. He runs after, calling for him to wait.

Luffy turns around without stopping. Frowning and realizing that he touched the man he bumped into, skin-to-skin contact. "Wait, wait! If you get close, you gonna die!" His power takes slower to activate than Law's as it searches for what to make grow first. "I mean, probably gonna get hurt anyway. Sorry, sorry!"

"I said fucking wait!" Law slams his hand into the ground, it crumbles under his palm.

"Woah," Luffy stops, bouncing from one leg to another. He grins, crouching down, flicking a plant clinging to what little dirt is in the pavement. It explodes, roots moving between the cracks, shooting towards Law, stopping right before reaching him, a flower sprouting, and then dying as it reaches Law's aura of death.

"What are you?" Law approaches cautiously, watching for any sign of sickness in someone who looks to be way too healthy, its like he is glowing

"Monkey D. Luffy! And I make things grow!" He chuckles. "Who are yah, and why you not growing?" Luffy circles him, waiting for little bumps to show up, as they always do when he touches someone. He's been more careful not to do it, but it's been a busy busy day.

Law regards him, and does his bare minimum intro like "Law" followed by "Come with me"

Luffy, distracted from what he was doing and curious, goes "Okaaay"

They go through the city to the set up medic tents. Thats where Luffy hears his full name from people whispering. 'Trafalgar Law, god of death'

And some who travel around recognize Luffy from more war-torn regions. 'God of Destruction', he gives them a grin and a thumbs up.

Law leads him to where he set up base. Telling Luffy to sit, and give him his hand.

Luffy not doing any of that, he instead looks around Law's office, poking everything and things that are prone to grow even when stifled by Law's power, do so.

Law watching as a cactus he had in the corner springs to life, blooming for the first time since he got it, his experiments going through at least a year of growth and decay. He is fascinated, wishing he had time to write the discoveries down.

Luffy is watching how animated Law gets about his research. It has been a long time since he has been near anyone like this without them feeling the explosion of power twisting around when he uses it. He takes Law's hand, watching as their powers spark and cancel each other out.

Law freezing, sure he asked to see Luffy's hand, this is the first direct touch he has felt in his life. The first time he could hold someone's hand without having ten layers of protection between them. The first touch that lasts more than five seconds. It is safe to say that his brain short circuits, and he just stares at Luffy. Can't believe his eyes and that he is still standing there, alive and breathing, as if nothing could hurt him.

Luffy smiles, as it is the same for him. He always had to let go before he could hurt anyone, but Law shows no sign of change.

Luffy refuses to let go of Law after that, clinging to him at every chance; decades of being touch starved to catch up on, and Law may grumble about appearances, is not about to make Luffy let go.

They realize that they balance each other's power out, and they can stay in the town with no side effects. They still punish who they came to punish and have to abscond, but after they decide to travel together.

Law meets his friends in person for the first time since they were children; Luffy is able to hug his crew as long as he is holding onto Law.

They make each other's lives better, and it is not long before they fall into a routine, going after corruption and making the world better. Being able to exist without the constant threat of loss hanging over them.

Luffy still feels like too much sometimes and that he will be left alone again.

Law still sometimes considers that he does not deserve a loving touch, that he will only cause pain, still afraid that he will lose what he cares about and it will be his fault.

Yet them waking up to find each other in the mornings, still there and still alive washes away those doubts.

Luffy, one day, looking for Law in the middle of the night, just to make sure he is there, decides not to wake him and crawls into bed.

Law wakes up later with the same thought to check that Luffy is still there after a nightmare and is immediately calmed by the tight arms wrapped around him. They share a bed every day after that, their relationship grows with little things like that in their shared trauma, and they could never imagine a life without the other.

Life & Death, finding peace in each other, and the world at large is better for it.