#but I didn't see it in the tags and I think I might explode just thinking about it

[vitrificvitriol]

Training

[dnickels]

RE: 5x05. I have no idea how much I'm supposed to read into this, but that has never stopped me before:

It's VE Day. Havers is back in England. The post office, telephone system, communication infrastructure etc all still work. So where is Cap's sense of urgency coming from? He knows the full name and regiment of a serving officer, a letter will get where it needs to go, they're very good about that over there. Yes, Cap's been waiting, but its been six years, he can wait a little longer-- hang out in the bushes until he sees Haver's car drive away and bang on the window, if he insists on being an insane person (<3). Figure out where he's billeted. Japan hasn't surrendered yet, so I suppose there's a chance Havers could get shipped to Burma or something and potentially die there, but he's not going to go straight from the cocktail reception to the troop ship, especially if everyone there is about to get "Hitler defeated"-levels of drunk. ("They're all red tabs, surely decency and decorum--" they are going to roll those old soaks out of there in wheelbarrows)

The urgency isn't because Havers might die. I think Cap knew his time was short.

He's a middle aged man in tolerably good shape, all that ration food aside. He make good time on his morning jogs, and his biggest ailment is 'creaky knees'. "Widowmaker heart attack out of nowhere" isn't an unheard of COD for someone who seems otherwise fine, especially someone who has been under a fair amount of stress (six years of wartime, including the fucking Blitz would do a number on my heart) but his sudden relocation makes me pause. It's only been about a year since he got relocated away from Button House, right? What was all that about? It's presumably still requisitioned, given that they're throwing a swanky victory party there and Heather Button is nowhere to be seen, but has the weapons program been disbanded? Or was there some reason to pull the CO out of a high-stress position and send him to the beach to take potshots at seagulls? (I am being glib here-- the coast was NOT a stress-free place when you can see your enemy just across the Channel). I genuinely forget what he said he was doing in season three-- was he even still in the army at all, or did they send his ass to the Home Guard? Even they got a campaign ribbon.

I think Cap made one last push to get to the front, and while its very clear that this dingus should under no circumstances be on the front line (<3) they humored him with a medical-- and found something really troubling. Or maybe he went in of his own accord, the old flutter, or maybe it was just a routine checkup. Either way he got some very serious news, so sorry old boy, just one of those things, could be any day now-- best make sure your affairs are all in order.

Hence the single-minded desire to meet, once last time. Everyone else clearly drove-- did he walk all the way from the train station, down the country lanes? Did he feel a little short of breath scaling all those walls? Did every set-back and stressor make him more determined-- just give me a little more time, just a little more time...

It could also be that he just got yelled at so hard he died of it, which is almost certainly how I will go, but that was my immediate impression and it has not left me, nor have I known peace. I know there's a few holes in my theory but I haven't talked myself out of it yet. For me the kicker is that he experiences at least ten devastating emotions in the last moments of his life, but "surprise at entering cardiac arrest" does not appear to be one of them. It looks more like grim acceptance. Stoic in the face of death-- a soldier to the end.

[camdunez]

So Fine | d. avanzini

Songs Playing: So Fine — Mint Condition | Won’t U Come Back — H-Town | Come And Talk To Me — Jodeci

paring: daniela avanzini x gn!reader summary: you disrupt pokimane’s livestream with katseye and d4vd. you quickly make friends with them all.. but one just can’t seem to take their eyes off of you. and the chat can’t seem to stop talking about it. genre: fluff(an attempt at it) warnings/tags: yn’s in a group (think of jodeci, h-town and mint condition), lara and manon are little fangirls in this, mild cursing, yn's d4vd's bestie!, dani's a bit of a flirt too. a/n: i've been just writing random shit ngl. and i feel like the rockstar au gets done a lot (i literally have a oneshot in my drafts lol). so why not change it up? instead of being a rockstar, you will be apart of a good ass r&b group! (i might make a smau story inspired by this soon idk. depends on if you guys like this or not).

the livestream had since started, the girls of katseye sat at the table— eating various foods and talking with pokimane, who sat in the center with d4vd seated behind her. poki just gifted the girls their own van cleef bracelets not too long ago (and she gifted d4vd some chrome heart frames too).

a short knock interrupts their current conversation, causing poki to perk up in confusion. “I shouldn’t be having any more guests today..” she says before getting up, fixing her dress before excusing herself to her front door.

manon glances over at the chat with a confused look of her own. “chat?.. is this a surprise or what? is beyonce stopping by?” she asked with a soft chuckle. “I’d actually die if she came up here omg..”

daniela furrows her eyebrows before shaking her head. “you’re so delusional, manz.”

but before manon could fire back with a response of her own, a voice could be heard from the doorway.

“I know I’m supposed to be coming with the group next week, but I heard david’s here so I had to slide through!”

a tall figure walks into frame, holding poki’s hand as she leads them closer to the group. d4vd jumps up from his seat to give them a hug, greeting them with a smile.

“YN?!?” manon damn near screamed her lungs out before covering her mouth, making lara glance behind her. “holy shit, yn!? i’m like a HUGE fan, oh my gosh!” lara said, making yn smile. “wait, wait, hold on!” poki waved her hand toward the webcam, already laughing. “chat, I told y’all this was a chill lil dinner—why are celebrities just appearing at my house???”

user101: YOOO IS THAT YN??? mintconditioned: this stream just went from cute to HISTORIC??? katseyeforlife: LARA’S FANGIRLING OMGGGG glizzyprophet: not yn showing up looking like they just stepped out a 90s music video 🔥 dani_sinn3r: daniela don’t look too hard girl 😏

yn laughed as they made their way around the table, hugging lara and manon tightly. “I saw y’all were live and I couldn’t resist. plus, I missed david’s face.”

“missed me?!” d4vd feigned offense. “you literally sent me a 12-minute voice note yesterday.”

“and?” yn shrugged, taking an empty seat next to daniela. “don’t act like you didn’t listen to it three times.”

daniela, who had been silent up to this point, leaned forward slightly with a teasing smile. “so you just show up unannounced now?.. you do that for everyone or just people you wanna impress?”

the chat exploded.

slowburner98: OHHHHHHHHH DANIELAAAA I SEE YOU glassheart88: she locked in so fast LMAOOOO larz4life: I see the vision. I SUPPORT THE VISION. wntrbaby: poki blink twice if we’re third-wheeling

yn raised their brows at daniela, smiling wide. “depends... am I impressing you?”

daniela scoffed, but she couldn’t hide the grin that crept up her face. “you might be... maybe.. chat, don’t gas them too hard, please.”

manon dramatically pretended to faint in the corner while lara squealed under her breath.

sophia chuckles before handing yn a plate with various foods she picked out for them. "i'm surprised david didn't properly introduce you to us yet.."

the camera angle had widened just enough to catch everyone now: poki in the middle, with megan and yoonchae on her left, lara and sophia across from them, daniela beside sophia, and yn seated comfortably between daniela and d4vd — like they’d always been part of the group.

plates clinked softly as they passed sides around: some bibimbap poki ordered, a stack of wings, random trader joe’s snacks. manon was still giddy, sneaking glances at yn like she couldn’t believe they were real.

“so wait,” poki said, mouth half-full, “yn, your group’s album drops soon, right? you’re in, like, a full-on R&B Voltron group?”

YN grinned. “yeah, yeah — it’s been a long time coming. we’re trying to bring that real soul back, you know? like, live instrumentation, stacked harmonies, lyrics that hurt a little…”

“‘lyrics that hurt a little’ is CRAZY,” sophia mumbled, blinking. “what the hell.”

“oh my god—” Megan snorted. “I already know I'm gonna cry over track 3.”

pillowprincess23: SOPHIA LOOKED SO GONE WHEN YN SAID THAT 😭 katslayed: megan literally said “this album is gonna ruin me” in 3 words 2onyourtemple: YN SAID SOUL MUSIC IS BACK!!! WE WON. starlover420: daniela has not blinked since yn started talking i’m screaming

daniela was indeed watching yn closely, elbow propped on the table, fork dangling from her fingers. her usual coolness hadn’t cracked — not exactly — but something had shifted. her gaze was soft. curious. a little too focused.

manon clocked it and smirked behind her drink.

“okay but what’s the concept?” lara asked. “is it, like, throwback vibes or more futuristic vibes?”

“we’re blending it,” yn replied. “think: toni!tony!tone meets sade.”

“whew.” yoonchae blinked slowly. “that sentence just changed my brain chemistry.”

daniela finally spoke again, voice calm but eyes a little sharp. “and you write your own stuff?”

“most of it... david helps sometimes,” yn said, nudging d4vd, “but yeah — we write, produce, even do some of the mixing. It’s gotta feel like us.”

slaytotheleft: daniela’s voice dropped 2 octaves to ask if yn writes their own stuff 😭 vintagegrooves: “it’s gotta feel like us” ??? I’M NOT BREATHING ynforpresident: poki ask if they're single!!!! DO IT FOR SCIENCE!!!!

poki laughed as she read the chat in real-time. “okay, first of all—chat, y’all are OUT OF CONTROL. second of all… you really doing the whole thing independently? that’s wild.”

“it’s hard,” yn admitted. “but it means we get to protect the sound, you know? No compromises.”

daniela murmured, “that’s rare…”

the table went quiet for a second. the kind of quiet that happens when everyone feels the energy shift but no one wants to say it out loud.

manon, sensing it, kicked lara under the table and whispered, “this is like watching a slow burn live.”

lara mouthed, “I KNOW.”

sophia leaned forward suddenly. “okay but can we hear a snippet or nah? just a crumb??”

yn chuckled. “I got a voice memo of the demo, but I’d have to mute y’all.”

souldropz: DEMO??? CRUMB??? FEED USSSSS bitcrushedbeauty: poki let them play it on aux I BEG danislittleliar: look at daniela’s face rn. she’s already heard it i bet

poki leaned toward the camera. “alright, chat — I’m muting for like thirty seconds. don’t freak out. blame sophia.”

sophia grinned. “you’re welcome.”

peachmood: SHUT UP EVERYONE THE DROP IS COMING gr00veslut: not poki muting the mic like it’s state secrets 😭 daniluvver: watch daniela start levitating

with a few quick clicks, poki muted the stream audio. the faint hum of conversation vanished. all the viewers could see now was movement: the group leaning in, heads bobbing, eyes widening as the song started playing from yn’s phone.

and then the camera caught it.

daniela’s jaw slackened slightly. her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip, like she hadn’t meant to react that way — like the song hit somewhere deeper than expected. the grainy, romantic chords. the slow, climbing harmony. the kind of track that aches.

her fingers tapped the table. a subtle rhythm. instinctive.

then she looked over.

and yn, already watching her, didn’t look away.

the air between them shifted — heavy, charged, alive.

daniela held their gaze. she didn’t blink, yet a smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth once she saw yn check her out.

across the table, megan noticed first. her brows shot up. lara’s eyes widened next. even d4vd gave a little side-smirk like, ahh, I see what’s happening here.

c00lwaterg0d: y’all. y’all. DANIELA. soulsync: THE WAY SHE LOOKED AT YN????? slowednsexy: why do I feel like I’m watching a music video with no sound rn 😭😭😭 manonbackup: poki unmute right now or I’m passing out ynsfanclubreal: I KNOW THEY WROTE THIS SONG ABOUT HER

when the demo ended, YN pressed their phone to stop playback and smiled shyly at the table.

still muted.

daniela turned her face away for a second, hiding the small laugh that slipped out. her cheeks were pink.

sophia fanned herself dramatically. megan clapped once and just said, “yeah. y’all are in trouble.”

poki unmuted the mic.

“…aaaand we’re back!” she said, already laughing. “chat, I’m sorry, but that was sacred. we had to keep it locked down.”

k4tseyekrazy: NOOOOOOOO WE MISSED IT mintyrnb: the way everyone’s faces changed tho… I’m SICK eyesonlyforher: i need the name of that track IMMEDIATELY slowglances: daniela was looking at yn like they’re her favorite song notsoinnocent: the way they locked eyes?? it’s over for us. it’s THEM now.

“okay,” manon said, clearly overwhelmed, “you can’t just drop something like that and not tell us what it’s called.”

yn glanced at daniela, then back to the table. “it’s called So Fine. it's out yet.”

daniela murmured, “should be.”

the stream soon came to an end.

phones were plugged into chargers, wings were reduced to bones, and poki had half-fallen asleep on her own couch with yoonchae tossing a blanket over her. the air still held a buzz — the kind that lingers after something unexpectedly magical.

yn stood in the foyer, d4vd hovering nearby while manon and lara pulled them into a final photo. lara grinned as she typed her number into yn's phone, handing it off to manon, who was already saving hers as MANZ 🔥 (don’t ghost me).

“you better text,” manon warned, eyes playful. “I will literally write a sad song about being ignored.”

yn laughed. “you think I wouldn’t stream that and cry to it? please.”

they hugged, light and warm, and then manon drifted off to chase sophia down the hall with a makeup wipe. lara followed, leaving just d4vd, yn — and her.

daniela had been leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching the whole thing unfold with that unreadable half-smile of hers. she looked relaxed. maybe even indifferent. but her fingers were tugging lightly at her sleeve, like there was a question trying to work its way up from her wrist to her mouth.

yn turned toward her.

took a step closer.

“daniela, right?”

her name in yn’s voice made her glance up — fast — like she hadn’t expected to be the one they were still thinking about.

a small silence stretched between them.

then she smiled. that slow, smug, quietly dangerous one.

“…just call me dani.”

yn smiled back, just slightly. “alright, dani.”

that smile deepened. “you always show up like that? just crash livestreams and steal the spotlight?”

yn tilted their head. “only when someone’s giving me a reason to.”

dani didn’t answer right away. just held their gaze. her eyes searched yn’s face like she was trying to memorize the way they said her name. and maybe something else.

something slower. something unspoken.

d4vd, still in the room, cleared his throat loud as hell and walked out without a word.

yn huffed out a laugh. “he’s so dramatic.”

“maybe he just sees what’s happening before we do,” dani said, soft but sharp.

another silence.

this one didn’t feel awkward.

it felt like the air was trying not to breathe too loud.

yn took out their phone again, offering it to her. “so… can I add you too? or is this where you pretend you don’t use phones.”

dani plucked the phone from their hand, typing with deliberate care. when she handed it back, her name was saved as:

Dani 🌙

“don’t wait too long to text,” she said, turning on her heel like it was nothing. “I don’t text first either.. just so you know.”

but she glanced back.

just once.

just enough to make yn want her more.

[ha-rinrin]

Little Brat

summary: She blew up your kitchen. Time to make her pay.

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 3k

Note:

WELCOME BACK I missed all of you so much, hope you guys didn't forget about me. I'm sorry for disappearing — I was focused on my academic comeback. I think I might be able to post more often (but no promises).

I noticed there's been a shortage in the Jinx x Reader tag, and a lot of you asked me to come back — and who am I to say no?

Anyway, I'm really happy to be back, even if I don't post daily like before. I hope you enjoy this new fic, which, by the way, was HARD to write. I'm really bad at writing smut, but I did my best.

TW: NSFW, overstimulation, strap-on, orgasm denial and control, top!reader x sub!Jinx, light degradation, teasing, and I think thats all, if I forgot something, im sorry

The fire alarm’s going off when you unlock the door. Again.

You don’t even flinch this time, just toss your keys onto the hallway table and step into the smoke.

It’s coming from the kitchen. Of course it is.

You walk in and see it: your custom-built, voice-controlled, top-of-the-line Piltover microwave blown wide open. The front panel’s cracked, the inside is scorched, and something definitely exploded.

Jinx is sitting on the counter like nothing happened—legs swinging like a child, soot on her cheek, a little too proud of herself.

“Hi, babe,” she says sweetly, waving a tiny screwdriver at you.

You blink. “What. Did you do.”

“Okay, so–” she starts, already smiling, “I was trying to make popcorn.”

You just stare at her.

“But then I thought… what if I gave it a boost? Just a little chemtech.”

She lifts a small, still-glowing power cell––clearly modified. “Y’know. To speed it up.”

The fire alarm shrieks again. A soft pop comes from the microwave.

“You blew up my microwave,” you say.

She shrugs. “I improved it. Technically.”

You don’t laugh. You don’t even blink.

You take one step closer, and Jinx’s smirk falters just slightly.

“Do you think I’m impressed?” you ask.

She leans back on her hands, still trying to play it cool. “Thought it might at least make you look at me.”

You glance at the mess, then back at her. “Oh, I’m looking.”

She quiets.

You place a hand on the counter beside her thigh, lean in just enough to make her press back against the cabinets.

“This what you wanted?” you ask, voice low. “To blow up my kitchen just so I’d come home and deal with you?”

Her eyes flicker. “Maybe.”

Another step and your knee’s between hers.

“You’re going to clean this up,” you say. “After.”

Her breath catches.

“Now get off the counter.”

She moves fast. Obedient. Like she’s been waiting for that tone all day.

She hops off the counter, but doesn’t move. Just stands there with that smug little tilt to her head, eyes flicking up and down like she’s deciding whether to listen to you at all.

You don’t give her the chance.

Your fingers close around her jaw–– not hard, but enough to stop her in her tracks. “Try me again, and you’ll be on your knees before you make it to the bedroom.”

She grins, breath hitching just a little. “Kinky threat. You sure you’re not the one who blew up the microwave?”

You don’t flinch.

“Keep running your mouth,” you murmur, “and I’ll make sure you’re too sore to use it later.”

That wipes the grin off her face. Almost.

Then she shrugs, deliberately slow. “Guess I better make it worth it, huh?”

You let go of her jaw.

“Bedroom. Now.”

She turns around with a smirk, strutting like she owns the place. “God, finally. I was starting to think you’d just let me get away with it.”

You follow, watching her every step.

“Not a chance.”

The bedroom door barely clicks shut before you’ve got her on the bed.

You don’t give her time to settle. You grab her wrist and push her downing the bed and onto her back, climbing over her like she’s already yours.

“Hands up,” you say––low, firm.

She obeys, too quickly, too eagerly, eyes flicking up to yours with that defiant spark still burning.

You drag your fingers slowly up her stomach, just under her shirt, and she shivers.

“You wanted attention,” you murmur, leaning in close. “Now you’ve got it. Let’s see how much of it you can take.”

Her breath catches, and she swallows hard, but she doesn’t look away. Doesn’t dare.

“Try anything bratty,” you add, hand sliding higher, “and I’ll make sure you don’t get to come tonight.”

And just like that, she’s quiet.

Not behaving––but quiet.

You don’t bother with slow.

Clothes come off in quick, practiced movements––yours first, then hers––until she’s bare beneath you, except for her panties. You leave those on.

On purpose.

She arches slightly, like she expects more, like she wants more, but you don’t give it to her.

Not yet.

Instead, you slide your hand down, press your palm flat over the soaked fabric, just enough for her to feel it––your heat, your control––without giving her what she really wants.

She squirms, breath shaky. “You’re doing it on purpose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Of course I am.”

Your fingers move slow, dragging along the thin fabric, teasing the wet spot already blooming there. You circle her clit with maddening precision, just enough to make her whine.

She bucks her hips up, impatient.

You pin them down with your free hand. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to be greedy.”

Her hands tighten in the sheets above her head, body tense beneath yours.

“You blew up my kitchen,” you murmur, mouth brushing her jaw. “You’re lucky I’m even touching you.”

Your fingers press harder against her clit, slow and controlled. But you’re not done.

Her hands leave the sheets––one flying up to grab the pillow beside her head, the other fisting the blanket like she needs to hold on to something, anything, just to stay grounded.

You lean down, tongue dragging across her right nipple before wrapping your lips around it and sucking deep.

She gasps––loud, unrestrained––her hips jerking as your fingers rub tight, wet circles against her clit while your mouth teases her chest.

Your tongue flicks over the sensitive bud, then you bite––just a little. Just enough to make her cry out.

“F-fuck––” she moans, her body arching up into your mouth, down into your hand. Caught between both.

Her free hand flutters for a second, unsure, then lands shakily on your shoulder––digging in, nails pressing hard.

Your fingers don’t stop. Your mouth doesn’t either.

“Still squirming,” you murmur against her chest. “But you’re not telling me to stop.”

She doesn’t––can’t. Her breath’s a mess. Whimpers leave her mouth with every stroke and suck.

Then––just as her breathing stutters––you pull your mouth away.

And slow your hand.

She lets out a broken sound, high and needy.

She’s already dripping through the fabric.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of her panties and peel them down slow––just to watch her squirm. She lifts her hips to help, breath stuttering as the cool air hits her soaked skin.

You toss them aside.

Then, without warning, you slide one finger into her pussy.

She gasps, sharp and breathless. Wet. So wet, you barely have to try.

You move slow. Intentionally slow. Just enough to make her ache, slick already coating your knuckles.

“Please,” she whispers, almost desperate.

You add a second finger.

Her thighs jerk, twitching hard, hips rocking before you press her back down with your free hand.

“Still so impatient,” you murmur.

She whines, eyes wide and glassy, her breath catching every time your fingers curl inside her.

You lean over her, lips brushing her jaw. “What happened to all that attitude, Jinx?”

She doesn’t answer, just bites her lip, thighs trembling as you pump your fingers a little deeper, a little rougher.

Then you add a third.

She gasps like she wasn’t ready for it, body tensing all over again, then melting into the mattress, legs shaking under your grip.

The slick sound of it fills the room––hot, messy, desperate.

You lean in closer, voice low and wicked against her ear.

“Next time you want attention,” you whisper, “just ask.”

She moans, helpless and breathless and already so close.

And you don’t stop.

You drag your thumb up and press it firmly against her clit, circling it slowly while your fingers move inside her––deep and deliberate.

She moans the second your thumb finds its rhythm––high and shaky, like she’s trying to hold it back but can’t.

Her thighs twitch with every stroke, already slick and trembling. You keep going, curling your fingers just right, then pulling back before she can get too close.

“Ah––god,” she gasps, hips bucking up. “Don’t––don’t stop––”

But you do.

You slow down, just slightly. Just enough to make her whine.

“No,” she breathes, voice cracking. “Please, don’t do that.”

You hum like you’re thinking about it, but your fingers are still moving––just barely, just enough to keep her strung out and desperate.

Every sound she makes now is a mess.

Tiny whimpers.

Breathless gasps.

The occasional broken “fuck” when your fingers hit just the right spot––then pull away again, cruel and calculated.

“Still think blowing up my kitchen was a good idea?” you murmur.

She shakes her head fast, eyes glassy, thighs clenching around your wrist.

“Then why,” you whisper, mouth brushing her ear, “should I let you come?”

She groans––loud and wrecked. “Please,” she begs, hips rolling, trying to chase your hand. “I’ll clean it––I’ll fix it––just please––”

You smirk, watching her fall apart.

“Not yet.”

And you keep going. Slow, deep pumps, curling just right so that they touch that spongy spot inside her that makes her see stars––then pulling back again.

Your thumb flicks her clit harder now, tight little circles that make her whimper.

But it’s not enough.

You lean down, catching one of her nipples between your teeth, biting gently as your fingers start slamming into her.

She yelps––loud and raw––back arching off the bed as the sudden overload of sensation hits her hard.

“F-fuck!”

Her whole body jolts.

You suck hard on her nipple, tongue dragging over the bud as your fingers pound into her and your thumb teases her clit in tight, wet circles.

Her back arches off the bed, hands clutching the sheets like she’s about to tear them. You don’t let up––your mouth, your fingers, your thumb––all working in rhythm.

“God––oh my god––” she cries, voice rising in pitch. “Wait––wait––”

You don’t.

Her thighs are shaking now, soaked and twitching, her head thrown back against the pillows.

She’s falling apart. Fast.

The shift from teasing to ruthless ruins her. Her hips jerk without rhythm, no control left in her body at all.

“Too much––” she gasps, voice cracking. “It’s too––”

“You can take it,” you growl, curling your fingers again. “You’re gonna take it.”

She sobs––loud and wrecked and completely undone.

And you keep going.

Fast. Deep. Merciless.

Exactly how she likes it.

She cums around your fingers.

No warning––just a broken cry and her entire body seizing up beneath you. Her back arches, mouth open in a silent scream before the moans finally catch up––loud, raw, and completely helpless.

You feel it the second it hits––her walls clenching tight, fluttering, pulsing around your fingers, squirting.

But you don’t stop.

Your mouth is still on her nipple, tongue dragging, sucking, teasing while your fingers keep going.

She gasps––sharp and panicked. “N-no––wait––”

You keep going.

Her hips jerk away from your hand, but there’s nowhere to go. You hold her there, pinned and trembling, pumping into her over and over while her legs shake and her voice breaks.

“Too much––too much––” she whines, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. Her hands claw at the sheets, one arm flinging up to grip your wrist, not pulling you away––just holding on.

Like she’s drowning.

Like she can’t take it, but she doesn’t want it to stop.

The overstimulation hits hard––her cries turn to sobs, every breath hitching, every sound wrecked and slurred and ruined.

You lean close, lips brushing her ear.

“Still think you can act like a brat in my kitchen?”

She shakes her head frantically, breathless.

“I didn’t hear you,” you murmur, fingers never slowing.

“N-no––no, I’m sorry––fuck––I’m sorry––”

You smile against her skin.

But you keep going. Just a little more.

Just until she breaks again.

Her moans and whimpers fill the room as she cums, but you’re not near finishing, as Jinx’s going down her hight ––thighs covered in her own juices–– you’re already moving, grabbing the bright blue strap-on, 4 cm of girth and 18cm long. 

Jinx’s a small girl, you're probably about to break the poor little thing in half.

She's still recovering when you hover over her, she's already so wet you don't even need any lub, she doesn't have time to register what is going on till she feels the tip of your blue cock already pressing at her entrance.

Her eyes widen, she has been dying to try the new toy, but now she's just so sensitive she isn't sure she can handle it.

“Wait–– I cant–– Too sensitive––” 

You don’t hesitate “You should’ve thought about that before blowing up my kitchen”

She lets out a soft, broken sound as the tip circles her entrance, slow, relentless. Not pushing in––just dragging, spreading the slick around, rubbing right where she’s sensitive. Rubbing your cook between her pink puffy folds, rubbing her clit a few times. 

You chuckle, taking your time. Running the shaft up and down her slit. Not pushing in. Not giving her what she wants.

Just watching her squirm.

Her hips twitch up, trying to take it, but you move just out of reach.

She groans in frustration, tears welling up in her lashes. “Please––fuck, just––”

You finally lean in, lips brushing her ear.

“You want this?” you whisper, dragging the head back to her entrance. “Beg for it.”

She moans––half pain, half pleasure, everything too much. “Please, please––I want it, I need it, just fuck me––”

And that’s when you push in.

Not gently.

Your cock slips past her slick entrance in one smooth, firm thrust, making her scream.

“Ah––too much––I can’t––”

“Oh, you can,” you growl, holding her hips tight. “And you will.”

She gasps, her body tensing, arching, trying to take the stretch as her walls clench around the thick toy. Her thighs are twitching again, eyes closed shut with overwhelmed pleasure.

You don’t move just yet.

You stay buried inside her.

Letting her feel the fullness.

Letting her realize just how deep you are.

She whimpers, completely wrecked already. “F-fuck, you’re gonna break me––”

You smirk.

And then you start moving.

Slow, deep thrusts at first––dragging your hips back just enough to make her feel it before slamming back in, harder, deeper each time.

Her body moves with it, pushed up the bed with every stroke. Her moans spill out helplessly, one after another, breathless and sweet.

A melody you never get tired of.

Jinx can feel the faux veins of your cock dragging against her walls, touching all the spots that make her dumb, the tip hitting her cervix. 

You can see the bulge of your cock inside her.

And then you start pounding.

Fast. Deep. Ruthless.

Her moans turn to cries.

High-pitched and broken.

The slap of skin against skin fills the room, echoing with every sharp thrust. Her whole body jolts with each one, pushed into the mattress like she weighs nothing.

You’re relentless now.

No mercy. No pause.

Just the thick strap-on slamming into her, deep and fast, grinding her deeper into the sheets.

She’s gasping for air, nails digging into the bed, her mouth open in a silent scream that only catches up a second later.

“F-fuck––too deep––too fast––”

You just growl, thrusting harder. “That’s the point.”

Her hands claw at the sheets. Her body can’t keep up. Every nerve in her is on fire, pleasure rippling through her in waves so intense they border on pain.

She’s soaked––completely, impossibly wet––slick pooling beneath her, dripping down your thighs, smearing between her legs with every thrust.

You grab one of her legs and throw it over your shoulder, angling deeper.

Her scream is immediate.

“God––oh god––please––”

You lean over her, one hand gripping her throat, thumb pressing just enough to make her whimper.

“You wanted this,” you growl against her ear, your cock still driving into her, hard and deep. “So take it.”

She sobs, overwhelmed, shaking, but she doesn’t tell you to stop.

Her hips meet yours on instinct now, trying to keep up, trying to take everything you give her.

Jinx a mess beneath you, mascara staining her face, lipstick smudge, tongue out like a dumb dog while her hands grab the pillow where her head is laying like a lifeline. 

Her clit’s begging for attention––swollen and flushed, untouched but throbbing.

You reach down between her legs and rub your thumb over it.

She screams.

The second you touch her, her body goes rigid, her back arching so hard it lifts her off the mattress. Her moans twist into helpless, choked sobs.

Her eyes roll back.

She’s so far gone.

You don’t stop.

Not with your cock, not with your thumb.

Circling her clit fast and tight, keeping the rhythm of your thrusts brutal and deep.

“Gonna come again?” you murmur darkly. “Already?”

She nods frantically, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Y-yes––please––please––I can’t––”

“You can,” you snarl, voice low and rough. “Come on my cock, Jinx.”

And she does.

She cums with a scream, her whole body convulsing. The orgasm rips through her like a shockwave––intense and shattering. Her thighs clamp around you, walls fluttering violently around the strap-on, soaking it all over again.

But you don’t stop.

Not even for a second.

You keep fucking her through it––deep, brutal thrusts that don’t let her catch her breath.

She sobs, completely gone, babbling your name between cries. “N-no––too much––’s too much––”

You grab her hips, slamming in harder. “I said you’d take it. So take it.”

She screams again––half-cry, half-moan–and comes again, barely a minute later.

A second orgasm, sharper than the first.

This one wrecks her, more than the three ones you already gave her.

Her whole body goes limp beneath you, twitching, broken.

And still––you don’t stop.

Just a few more thrusts, slow now, grinding in deep with every roll of your hips. Letting her feel it. Letting her drown in it.

By the time you finally pull out, she’s shaking.

Covered in sweat, lips parted, tears dried on her cheeks, body completely ruined.

You toss the toy aside and lean down, brushing her cheek with the back of your hand.

She’s barely conscious––blissed out and wrecked, blinking slowly as she looks up at you.

“Still think blowing up my kitchen was worth it?” you whisper.

She doesn’t answer.

She just moans softly––wrecked and dazed––and nods.

Like the little brat she is.

[choerypetal]

Hide and Seek / Homelander

(pt 2. of Meet and Greet)

summary ; In part two of the meet and greet, Homelander's obsession reaches new heights, leaving him unsatisfied at his core and willing to do anything to make you his.

!! read part one first! ; !!

ps; english isn't my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistakes, xo' (as it will be eventually corrected if needed)

tag list; @private-eye-on-you ; @lins-shenanigans ; @horrorxgorewhore @siredtom ; @certain-tragedies ; @hotchners-wifey ; @naelis-open-sea

enjoy xo'

Homelander's comment, 'You look lovely in the costume,' lingered in your mind for a week. You couldn't escape his presence. His silhouette, his maddeningly perfect face seemed to follow you everywhere—from your usual coffee shop to the special limited editions of The Vought, and even as you continued watching the show for longer periods of time. From Deep's special cupcakes to the coffee most loved by Homelander, his influence was everywhere, not just keeping the city alive but himself as well.

Although you didn't realize it, Homelander had become just as obsessed with you as he was with seeing his own face on the cup you were holding. From a distance, he watched your every move—the way your plump lips touched the cup, how you drank your coffee, and even how you covered his image with your hand. Despite finding your behavior an offense, he knew he’d eventually have to tease about it. The sadistic man that he was, wasn’t afraid to even acknowledge it. Especially during their weekly Seven meetings. 

"So, I suggest we review some new recruits," Ashley said, her nervousness palpable. She wanted to please not only the public but, most importantly, Homelander. This was no easy task given recent events and the current situation. Homelander's obvious boredom showed his lack of interest, and Deep, poor thing, was just as disinterested, staring blankly at the screen and agreeing with whatever Homelander mumbled. However, Deep was secretly relieved not to have any of John’s powers. Especially right now. Because, at that exact moment, it was your face, and your face alone, that occupied his thoughts. Murmuring your name under his breath, he was fortunate not to get caught up in the moment. That of course, when a single cough from Ashley’s mouth was enough to slip his mind elsewhere. 

"You know, Ashley, just pick whoever you think will fit for now. Sign their papers. My brain is going to fucking explode from this hell hole," he said, standing up without even glancing at her. Not even Ashley's whiny complaints about the complications it might cause could stop him. He paused, considering for a moment that she might convince him. "Don't come to me for the next 24 hours," he snapped, his piercing blue eyes conveying a clear threat. When wasn't he a threat, anyway? "Or I'll personally fuck up every single one of you." That was enough to make her quickly nod in response. Poor thing, she only wanted to make him proud. A satisfied grin played on his lips, mirrored by Ashley's, though hers was a little more nervous. His, however, was genuine. 

You, on the other hand, had been fortunate enough not to see Homelander's face for a while. From the bookstore you frequented to the coffee shop, his presence seemed to pervade your life. Your mother didn’t help either, as she insisted on framing a picture of you with him in the living room—a gesture Homelander found endearing. On some nights, he would see you through the window, dressed in your pajamas, reading whatever caught your interest, with that picture always in the background. Unlike Homelander, it haunted your dreams.  

Deep down, Homelander struggled to resist the urge to invade your personal space, not wanting to frighten you. However, when he saw your forced smile at the meet and greet, he was reminded that a smile meant nothing to him. To him and you alone. It was your scent that drove him wild. At first, he considered going undercover, posing as one of your father’s coworkers, but he realized it would be futile. Why cover his own shame, when he could let his ego take it over?

So, he waited until sunrise. When he could finally entered your room, imagining you in your shortest pajamas, which hugged your curves so perfectly, he had to bite his bottom lip to control himself. Just by the thought of his fingers sinking into your flesh as you leaned toward him for more...

"Goodbye, Mom!" Your voice echoed in Homelander's mind as he realized he'd been lurking around your house since last night. He had been trying to dismiss, the missed call records provided by Ashley, however, unable to ignore them. Fortunately, he was hidden well enough that you didn’t notice him as you exited the house.

Your hair meticulously washed, your skin fresh with makeup, and that dress. Never in a thousand years, aside from his own enemies, did Homelander think he would become so obsessed with someone. He wanted to chuckle to himself at the irony, knowing he wasn’t being the most subtle superhero. When your gaze shifted toward his hiding spot, he quickly concealed himself behind a tree, exhaling in relief when you shrugged off the feeling of being watched. You then left for work, something Homelander knew all too well. This also meant he could meet your mother, who, after all, was his biggest fan. 

Fortunately, you managed to get through the day without a single client yelling at you. However, what you didn’t expect was an unexpected visit from the man himself. As you approached the door, you overheard some mumbling. Did your mother have a visitor today? 

And then it hit you.

Hearing the all-too-familiar voice say, "Oh, these look lovely," with a genuine smile, you froze in your tracks. Seeing your mother so happy, even more thrilled than a fangirl, like she’d seen god himself. She noticed you immediately. "My dear! Look who came to visit," she exclaimed, taking you into her arms for a hug. Before you could greet the guest, your eyes met his—Homelander, in your own home. 

"No need for theatrics, ma’am," he said with a casual chuckle, hushed by his own hand as he munched on the cookies your mother had made, casually wiping a droplet of milk with his thumb. Your mother giggled and said, "Mother is the name. We don’t have to get formal, right darling?" You blinked twice, hardly believing what you were hearing. Your mother was genuinely making Homelander feel comfortable, right inside your home. Given what you knew from your coworkers and the constant rumors, it was hard not to be creeped out by the thought that he might have done more than just a knock on the door that evening. Yet, you shrugged it off, thinking that perhaps playing the same game he did might be what he wanted after all. Like a cat and a mouse. 

There was a brief pause, then an idea sparked in your mother’s eyes as she looked at John one last time. "Why don’t you stay for dinner? Tonight is roasted chicken and mashed potatoes." How could he refuse? Spending more time with you was just the beginning of his obsession with protecting you and never letting you out of his sight. He smiled, his grin seemingly bigger than before, and nodded. "If Y/N doesn’t mind?" he said, his gaze shifting to you with a more serious expression. You gulped nervously, knowing you couldn’t just say no. "Yes—yes, of course," you stuttered. Oh, how adorable you looked.

“Then, make yourself at home dear.” 

Dinner was only just a few hours from now, with your father now back from work had asked for a personal photo with the Homelander, and a talk John appreciated more. Considering his own father exiling him completely, it was a breath of fresh air for him, especially when he’d be glancing a few times at you, doing whatever you had in mind before the dinner. “My daughter is going to be working for us,” your father would be saying proudly, Homelander could only nod listening actively. “She’d do a great addition I am certain.” his gaze now meeting yours immediately, when you gaze up from your book, he could notice a light shade of pink coming your cheeks. Cherishing it a little too much when your father’s voice then abrupt his mind, “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” he’d said a little too proud. 

She is indeed… Homelander thought to himself that same night. Just by how attentive he was with you. Even if it wasn’t  much of a conversation shared, the glances were enough to please him alone. Which during the dinner, he was not afraid to show. 

Dinner had passed rather quickly, you were glad it did. Considering you listening to whatever nonsense Homelander had to offer to keep your mother so relonctent toward him. Let alone, praise him as a her own god. Boosting an ego, to whom you couldn’t comprehend yourself, and that Homelander was sure to make it seem tonight. 

"Thank you so much for dinner, truly," Homelander said, wiping the corners of his mouth, his eyes never leaving you. Your mother’s gasp was enough to momentarily distract him, and he asked if everything was alright. She quickly assured him it was and invited him to stay until her cake was done baking. Naturally, John didn't decline the offer. "Y/N," your mother called your attention just as you were about to excuse yourself, "how about you give a little tour of the house? I'm sure Homelander would appreciate it." The formality of his name seemed daunting, but John quickly corrected her. "John it is. No need to be formal, now, do we?" A shiver crawled down your spine as your mother’s eyes gleamed with hope, her slender fingers clapping together. "Oh, well, of course! Now, Y/N, make yourself useful and make John feel at home." 

A sigh escaped your lips; there was no way to avoid this, was there? "Yes, of course. Where do you want to start?" Your eyes never left his, feeling yourself getting lost in them, becoming his little mouse to play with. "How about..." he began, his eyes wandering as if he couldn’t be bothered to think. "The bedroom," he finally said. You blinked twice, a third time to fully process his words. "What?" you replied, incredulous. He chuckled, amused by your reaction, and shrugged off the question as if he hadn’t meant it seriously. "Nah, kidding. Lead the way," he said. 

So you did. You felt his shadow hovering over you as you both walked through the house for a little tour. John was no longer hiding his presence, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his breath. By the time you reached your bedroom, the tour was complete, and your mother’s cake would be ready. However, John had something else in mind, and he wasn’t shy about showing it. “And this is the bedroom,” you said nonchalantly, hearing an obvious scoff from him. 

"Funny, isn’t it?" he said, this time his tone serious enough to make your muscles tense. His back was to you as his fingers touched the doorknob, ready to close the door. And he did, pausing momentarily. "Finally, we meet again." His remark made you tilt your head. Meet again? As far as you knew, he had been stalking you all along. But knowing who he was—Homelander, with his omniscience and twisted games—you had no say in the matter. Neither did you, especially after hearing his chuckle. 

“Now why so quiet?” the question was enough to make you unsease. You wanted to tell him, to oppose to him. But you couldn’t he was now yours to torment completely. When he leaned further, scoffing once more by your vulnerability. In that precise moment, Homelander knew he won. 

“Heard you were a good, fuck.” his voice so nonchanltly, a gasp leaving from your mouth as you were unable to speak more than standing right in front of him. How his eyes would wondered around your figure, approaching near to you, his fingers now leaning toward your waist. Gripping by its touch, hungry to fuck you there, in the bed. Raw. 

"Thank you?" you stammered, eager to please him. His grin broadened, fighting not to turn into a frown at your response. He was so satisfied that he gently caressed your cheek with his other finger. "You need me, not just to save you, but to satisfy you." Though your heart was broken, you were a toy Homelander cherished without fear. You were his perfect little toy, as he began to lick his bottom lip, his breath drawing closer, closing the gap between you. "Mine," he growled, his voice hoarse, undeniably hinting at his intentions. He was Homelander, able to do whatever he wanted. And that included you being his. "Got it, little mouse?"

Oh, how he longed to watch you squirm between his legs, begging for more, moaning his name. His persistence knew no bounds; he would do anything—from leaving bite marks to scratches, and even hickeys if necessary. But he couldn't just stand there without having a little fun, right?

"You see," he said, his voice dripping with teasing malice. Disgust welled up in your mouth, but you fought the urge to look away. He loved watching you squirm, the fear in your eyes fueling his twisted envy of every inch of you. "How about we play a little game tonight, hmm?" His thumb brushed gently over your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his.

"W-what game?" you managed to say, breaking your long silence. Even he was momentarily surprised, but your stutter made it worth it. "Hide and seek," he said, pausing for effect. "You hide, and I seek. If I find you, you're mine. Got that?"

You gave a quick nod, followed by a satisfied smile from him. "Good then, I'll start counting. One, two..." You hesitated for a moment, just as his grip shifted from your waist to your arm, preventing you from fleeing your own home. When your eyes met his, they were dark with passion, lust, and a desire to capture his little mouse until its very last breath. "Run..."

Little mouse.”

[nicohii]

(No because I have an Actor!Caleb brainrot and I need to get this out of my system; reader is not MC)

tags: Actor! Caleb x Non-MC Writer! Reader, angst, friends to lovers??? might write a second part idk

Writer! Reader and Actor! Caleb growing up together--but only one yearns, and it's not him. He compliments you on your writing, they win awards, they have been a cult favorite in the indie fandom and coming of age genre. He sees a pattern, there is pain, there is longing, there is love buried there deeply, yet he never seems to realize how it's all an ode to your admiration of him.

There are times when you do want to tell him how much he means more than what he thinks he means to you. And it's not helping that there are knowing looks shared by family members when you visit each other's houses.

He's one of the top leading men now. Projects here and there, promotes luxurious brands he had problems pronouncing when he was child. He has a colorful love life too, one that is often followed by flashing lights and intriguing issues.

It all comes to head when he falls out with this particular leading woman. He calls you, sometime around 1:30 am, in the darkness of his apartment. You arrive around 30 minutes later, he's just a block away so, sue you. He reeks of alcohol when he opens the door, not his best moment. But he can always count on you not to judge.

"You know what she told me? " There's a slur in his words as you try so safely guide him to his bed.

"She asked me when did I become someone she doesn't know? Really? Me? I'm not the one who got caught having feelings with my new co-star you know? 'S too ridiculous. "

"Yeah well, tell me how'd you two met again? " You ask in a sarcastic tone, a teasing grin on your lips as you try to put a cold towel on his forehead. He scoffs and laughs, eyes closed.

It's pathetic really, knowing him we'll enough to know where exactly you stand in his life, and still hold on to the undying feeling in your heart. A backburner in the purest form, when looked up in the dictionary, was probably your picture.

"Can you hold me, please?" He whispers, before slowly looking at you with those eyes you grew up with, those eyes you spent your entire lifetime with.

You feel his breath relax as he falls asleep to the rhythm of your chest. You hope he doesn't hear it breaking. You hold him tight, one last time, as you look at the sun rising. The blue hues look lovely, and for a moment you pretend that there wasn't hurt, maybe in another timeline, you both would have this with a different context. You bury your nose in his hair.

You both wake up later in the day. There is a bashful look in him; you don't know what hurts more, waking up alone in his bed or the way he can't seem to look at you in the eyes. You call him out on it and he tries to deny it at first, but you don't know what and when it exploded- he becomes defensive; you become more irritated.

"That's pathetic, man. You call me when you need someone to cry on, 'oh she broke up with me, hold me, I need a friend, and pretend it didn't happen' " You tell him, you might've tried to imitate his voice in a mocking manner just to add that extra impact.

He looks at you as if you just asked him for a duel and he draws his own gun.

"Yeah, well , how is that any different when you call me when you hit a writer's block? 'I just don't know how to perfectly write love, Caleb. I feel like I don't do it any justice, it's so unnatural... ' . Well guess what? You know the real problem? It's because you don't know anything about it! You've only been with yourself waiting for who knows who! What do you know about love anyway?! "

There was a moment of satisfaction when he finishes and there's no retort to be heard. Only a moment, because you stare at him blankly. There's a thin layer of water in your eyes that seems to stare at his would before they silently fall from your cheek. If this was acting, you could've given him a run for his money.

Your shoulders slump as you close your eyes, swallowing thickly before wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands, sniffling as you wipe them against your pajamas. You wet your lips before nodding to yourself. Closure, you think.

"You're right, Caleb."

You brave to look at him. There is a concerned expression in his face that confuses you. You look at him in his entirety, you mull over the things you had tried to do to reach him. You wonder what did it meant to him? Wondered what it meant to you, and what it would mean from now on.

---

There is silence when you leave. But your words replay in his head long after you left.

"You're right, Caleb. What do I know about love? "

[enwoso]

four years on | alessia russo x child!reader

-> this has been in the archives for a while, as well as we haven’t heard from a certain person in this universe for a while..👀

grumpy universe | in terms of timelines i would say this makes sense to take place just after lovie meets him for the first time

the late afternoon sun pooled across the floor in a soft amber light, casting a warm glow over the living room. a quiet hum filled the space — the faint whirring of the fridge in the kitchen, as well as the occasional chirp from outside. it felt.. still.

alessia handed harrison a mug of tea, careful not to spill as she sat down opposite him. her eyes flicked towards the hallway.

"she's out cold," she said softly, tucking her legs beneath her. "didn't even fight it. just curled up with esme and crashed." the three of you having been out for the morning, dotting from the park, the playing football on the field to a cute corner cafe on the outskirts of london.

"esme?" harrison asked, eyebrows raised. he was still all too new to this concept of being a 'dad' it was only the second time alessia had even let him see you.

alessia smiled faintly as she nodded. "her toy elephant. she's had it since the hospital, foxy- i mean emily bought it for her before i flew home. i don't think she's slept without it once."

he nodded slowly, sipping his tea, though the warmth didn't settle him at all. his eyes wandered the room, pausing on the framed photos on the shelves — ones he hadn't seen before. moment he wasn't there for.

the silence stretched for a beat too long. alessia noticed the way his eyes darted from each picture, the way his hands fidgeted around the mug, like he didn't know what to do with them.

then she stood up without a word and walked into the hallway, there was a storage room under the stairs. reaching for a box which sat on the counter — worn, slightly faded at the edges and brought it back into the living room.

sitting beside him this time, close enough that their shoulders were nearly touching. as she placed the box on the floor between them.

"i kept everything," alessia said quietly, almost like she was admitting something.

harrison looked down at the box, then back at the blonde, "everything?"

alessia hummed, "yep, every scan photo, her hospital tag, every photo, even the silly little polaroids i took when i couldn't sleep."

she opened the box, the smell of old paper and lavender floating up faintly. alessia reaching inside and pulling out a book — it was filled with grainy, black and white photos.

"this was the first scan," she said, holding it out. "i was eight weeks, i couldn't take my eyes off it, i just sat and stared at the picture for hours."

harrison hesitantly took it with both hands, cautiously, like it might tear just from him looking at it. he blinked a few times, hard. "she was just... that?" he said quietly.

"yeah," alessia breathed. " that little dot changed everything."

more photos came. another scan photo, 18 weeks. alessia found out the gender. then followed the photos from the gender reveal, her parents and brothers flew out as she's surrounded by her college friends as pink confetti exploded around her. her eyes wide with joy, disbelief and something almost wild in emotion.

"i know i wasn't ready," she admitted. "but from the moment i found out, i loved her from that second."

harrison let out a shaky breath, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the photo. "i should've been there-"

"you weren't," alessia said simply. "but i was. and i don't regret that."

alessia reached for another - a blurry photo taken from a hospital bed. a tiny wrinkled baby photo of you wrapped in a white blanket and wearing a striped hat. your hospital bands, almost too small to be real hung around your wrist.

"i was terrified," alessia whispered a faint smile on her lips as she looked at how small you were, it feeling like just yesterday but also a lifetime ago for her.

"she was so quiet at first, i thought—" her voice breaking for a second, before she cleared her throat. "then she let out this cry, like she was announcing herself to the world."

"and that's the infamous esme?" harrison asked as he pointed to the little elephant plush nestled at the end of the bassinet on the photo.

"yep, that day i just held her. i didn't want to let her go like if i did she would just disappear." harrison didn't say anything, jest kept looking, not just at the baby, but also at alessia in the photo. her face, puffy-eyed and exhausted but still the happiest he'd ever seen her.

there was a silence, then another photo. you only a few months old, lying on a playmat with wide eyed and chubby cheeked as you reached up towards the camera.

a frame later, you were nestled between a bunch of united players after a game.

"meeting the girls," alessia said softly. "she was the team mascot for the entire time we were there, they treat her like she was her own - just like they do again at arsenal."

"god, she's beautiful," harrison said, voice cracking just slightly. "she's so big now, but... she still looks like that. her eyes."

"i see you in her," alessia said without hesitation. "fire and soft edges but filled with confidence and sometimes speaking without thinking just like you."

he shook his head, still staring down at the photos. "i missed... everything."

alessia let out a slow breath. "yeah. you did." he flinched at that. honest. heavy.

but then alessia looked at him, really looked, and there was no malice in alessia's eyes. no resentment. just truth, and something else.

"but," alessia said gently, "sometimes things don't go the way you imagine."

harrison turned to alessia, eyes searching. "what do you mean?"

"i mean," alessia said, setting the last photo down, "i thought it was going to be you and me raising her maybe we'd still be in states who knows. thought we'd fight over names, argue over what car seat to get, cry in the middle of the night together."

her voice softened, more reflective than bitter. "but it didn't go that way. and i was angry for a long time. sad, too. but then... i got to know her. all of her. every tiny little quirk that others wouldn’t even sense. and i realised... me and her still made it. she's still here. still so kind, still so bright. still whole."

harrison's eyes were glassy, jaw tight. "i don't deserve to be a part of that."

alessia tilted her head. "maybe not yet. but you showed up. so maybe that’s worth something."

he let out a shaky breath, leaning back into the couch like the air had been knocked out of him. "i don't even know where to start."

"start small," alessia said. "start by remembering her favourite colour. ask her what she dreams about as that imagination of her is big. tell her your favourite food. let her teach you."

harrison looked down at the photo in his lap — you at your first football match, arms raised, mouth open in glee. "i want to learn everything," harrison said.

alessia smiled slighty, a quiet kind of tired. "then you're already doing better than you think."

harrison sat back, quiet now, fingers still gripping the photo of you in your football onesie. his eyes had gone distant, like the weight of it all was still sinking in—like it was too much and not enough all at once.

alessia leaned forward again, elbows on her knees, staring at the floor for a long moment before she spoke. "you know," alessia started, voice a little rougher now, "after you left... i hated you."

harrison looked up, startled, but alessia wasn't looking at him. alessia was somewhere else, back in those first weeks.

"i mean—i really hated you, harrison. like this deep, aching kind of hate that settled in my chest and wouldn't move. it was in everything. the way i made my coffee. the silence when i got into bed each night. every time i picked up my phone and remembered you weren't calling."

alessia's voice cracked, just slightly. "i couldn't even look at your name in my contacts. i deleted your number. swore to myself if i ever saw you again, i'd walk the other way."

harrison opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, maybe to explain—but alessia held up a hand gently.

"you don't have to say anything. just—let me finish."

alessia swallowed, pulling in a shaky breath. "i went through that pregnancy angry. not all the time—there were good moments, beautiful ones—but underneath it all was this... sharpness. i couldn't understand how you could disappear. how someone who’d held me and seen me so vulnerable at times and promised to love me could vanish the second it got hard."

harrison's throat bobbed. he looked like he'd aged ten years in that moment.

"but then," alessia said, quieter now, "something happened. i was about... seven months along. huge bump. uncomfortable. couldn't sleep, heartburn was kicking my ass. and lovie—she kicked. hard."

a soft smile tugged at alessia's lips despite everything. “and i remember putting my hand there, right where she was, and thinking, 'it's just us. and maybe that's okay.' i realised i wasn't doing it for you anymore. i was doing it for her. for me. and it was like this fog lifted."

alessia turned to harrison now, meeting his eyes. "i stopped hating you."

harrison blinked quickly, like the words hit harder than he'd expected.

"i didn't forgive you, in-fact i don't think i ever will" alessia added. "i still had bad days. but that anger stopped owning me. i made peace with the fact that you weren't going to be there. and that i could still be a damn good mum without you."

alessia sat back, folding her arms over her chest—not defensive, just steady. "and i was. i am. but now you're here. and that's complicated."

harrison's voice was barely above a whisper. "i don't expect you to trust me. or even like me for that matter."

alessia gave a soft laugh, a little bitter, a little warm. "yeah, well. it's not all about me anymore, is it?" alessia gestured toward the hallway, where the faint sound of your sleepy breathing could be heard. "it's about her. and whether you can show up for her the way you didn't for me."

harrison nodded slowly, eyes still glassy. "i want to."

"then do it. no big promises. no speeches. just be there."

another long silence. not uncomfortable—just full.

then harrison spoke, voice hoarse. "thank you. for keeping all this. for showing me."

alessia looked down at the photos again. "i didn't keep them for you."

"i know."

"but in a strange way.. i think... maybe i'm glad you saw them."

alessia and harrison sat like that a while longer, the light shifting across the room, the quiet pressing in soft and steady.

and maybe, for the first time in a long time, it didn't feel like history. it felt like something new.

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

fang i need to see yukimiya with an oversexed s/o so bad

i think about this all the time bc of hypersexuality

tags for some implied religious trauma on mr yukimiyas part and very explicit sexual content. reader is very wanton lol, 18+

it is . sooooo hard for him. the thing is yukimiya genuinely thinks of you as such a warm, kind person. his feelings for you are so deep and sincere and completely removed from any lust he might feel for you. or at least that lust is intertwined with a stronger desire to be gentle and intimate and sweet with you yk

but you are sooooo horny and so shameless and it is soooo much for that poor boy. i do genuinely think yukimiya has like self imposed saving himself for marriage thing. and he's super upfront about it with you from the start bc u so obviously want to jump his bones. he has a very Strong sense of discipline overall.

like the first time you kiss you're just like... all over him. hands in his hair, pressed against his lap, tongue in mouth and he is trying to handle all the sensory input and failing. he has to PRY you off of him and he's so red and he's like no no we can't go any further.

and you pout jokingly but you never push him. you're so sweet about it, maybe a little teasing but that's it. you always express your desires and voice them, always tell him whats on you mind. if you think he looks handsome or sexy or whatever—you'll sort of fidget with the end of your straw and bite and make a comment so unbelievably lewd before moving right along.

you make these like... eyes at him. fuck me eyes, he's heard the term before but he didn't really get it until he met you. you know exactly what you want from him and you're thinking about how you can get it. a little dazed, very determined. always gets him sooo flush.

you brush things off easily enough when he blows you off about it. you're a lot but you're not....forceful or anything. he makes a little face of faux disappointment and you laugh it off and thats all there really is but the longer you date the less he feels sure of himself.

yukimiya wanted to get married young and didnt see a whole lot of purpose in trying to lose virginity to someone he didn't love so he held onto it for longer than most people. that plus growing up religious its just something he was so sure about it.

and he does want to treat you well. marry you. yukimiya is the first guy to ever be such a gentleman to you and he doesnt want to taint that because of his own ...desires. its dirty to him. he doesn't think it's bad when you want things, but it's different when he wants things.

but it gets. harder and harder. you're so forward and you are also so good at touching him (too good) and so attractive already without trying very hard. you could do anything and look insanely beautiful to him but god.

you really don't go farther than making out and heavy petting. but that in itself gets so obscene. the way you space out your kisses, the way you flick your tongue - how your hands slide up his chest and neck, thumb rubbing against his ears, how you carry your weight in his lap, how you use your teeth. you kiss him like you could eat him whole.

when your hand gets on his belt he always loses his sense of reason - only barely tears himself a way from it each time. half-hard and apologetic. eventually you get the feeling that he's not even... it's not like he doesn't want to do it but he's holding onto beliefs he only barely has.

you have to have a long conversation about it i think. give him a peptalk about how you know how much he loves you and sex can be intimate too etc. when he's still resistant to it, you make a compromise. no penetration until he's ready, even if that means marriage. no sex. you think its silly but it helps him make sense of everything.

i think he agrees to this kind of blindly, assuming it will take the edge and tension off. like letting the pressure out slowly so something doesnt explode.

but. once you open that box, you can't really close it again.

so you do everything but have sex. and it absolutely makes him want to fuck you.

its light at first. dry humping while you make out and making him cum in his jeans. giving a handjob or teaching him how to finger you ("for when you do fuck me, someday"). directing him on how exactly you like getting head - on foreplay, your sure hands over his shaky ones as he make him squeeze your tits and guide them into his mouth. tell him the other places on your body you like being touched.

you teach him things about his own body too. or rather, he learns them because of you. his ears get red and sensitive, he likes when you bite his ear lobes lightly.his lips too. likes your hands on his biceps or chest or back, kissing and rubbing his muscles appreciatively. it does something to him. he knows he's attractive but it's... different. it's a nice feeling to be wanted but being wanted by you makes his whole body break into these terrible shivers.

he learns that the tip of his cock is way more sensitve than it should be. he learns he doesn't mind when you take advantage of this either.

he's got a few moles on his body and he likes how you kiss them when you go down on him. on his hip and inner thigh and some other places. likes when you rub up against him in general, when you cling to him during it or when your nails dig into his arms

yukimiya likes how... relaxed you get when you feel good. the first time he makes you cum with his mouth he feels so absurdly accomplished, even more so when you giggle at him and kiss him so full of love.

nothing changes. you go on dates and see each other. sleep in the same bed. but when you stay over at his place now - he's started to anticipate your little escapades.

no penetration. he knows that should mean not getting his dick anywhere near you. but you're persuasive. it's fine, yuu-kun. just slide your dick against me, it'll feel good. you can do it between my thighs, if you want.

the first time yukimiya slides his hard cock through the soft, slick folds of your pussy he nearly passes out. randomly on a date night. it just turns out that way. your hands on the back of his neck, kissing him as it slips through the sticky warmth.

it feels so good. it's mindblowing. it's so unfair. how can something feeling so much better when everything else you've been feeling had felt so incredible? how can there be anything more tempting than what you already do?

but there is. its you with your ass up and your thighs squeeze as yukimiya fucks the plush of them - tip knocking against your clit, catching on your hole, one misstep away from thrusting. the thought haunts him even as he's cumming up against your belly and thighs.

there's a guilt he feels about greed in particular, even more than lust. sometimes you go at it and he just. can't help it. can't help but want more. can't help but shamefully jerk off in the bathroom after you've already done it for a while.

you come onto him the same as always, more now that he's receptive to it but god he can never turn down your advances. even when it'd be smarter to do it. all it takes is his name now, or maybe just you taking his glasses off so it's a little easier to kiss him. it scares him a little, just how easy it'd be to slip up and . take you really. thin threads of control fraying as he gets close and closer to just giving you what you want.

it's Hard. he holds onto it for so long. i think he snaps eventually when you do something very thoughtful for him on a bday or anniversay and he just becomes uncharacteristcally aggressive (not that ur mad) and u have such intense deep missionary. like eye contact, chest to chest, slow rolling of his hips while he grinds into you. it is such a crazy feeling.

yukimiya just really. bends to your whims after you have these breakthroughs. he is so unbearably seduced by you even when he tries so hard to fight but it . god its rough on his brain. shame and pleasure are not opposites for him, that's for sure.

[lara4eclipze]

— 𝓑utterflies

— ( ⏳️ ) you give me butterflies got me falling in the deep end of your disguise sparred with a hundred lies.

meret manon x fem reader, argument, swearing, hugging, established relationship, cheater!manon, swearing, wc [?], tags listed below

you really didn't want to be the type of person who is possessive nor easily jealous, yet nothing can hide manon's recent suspicious actions — it was at first simple things like going out with her friends or calling them frequently — but then this friend seemed to take all of manon's time

then she changed her password, which was not that big of a deal you can handle it, what hurt you the most was her forgetting very important things to you — like when you planned a date and she didn't even text you where she had been you stayed in that restaurant for 2 hours waiting for manon only to find out she was with that friend again

which leads you to now

"are you serious?!, I waited like a stupid bitch at that restaurant all dolled up, just for you to "forget"?! manon what the fuck!" you were seething all the pent up emotions you had hidden in order to just be with manon now exploding out of you

"and? I told you I was with sophia!" manon retorts, pacing back and forth in your apartment, she smelled like sophia like she had for the past 2 months, "yeah like always" you laugh but without any emotion maybe even mocking yourself

"what's that supposed to mean?" manon looks at you, her gaze speaking truth of her rage — "i mean is that- manon what am i to you?, why do i feel like I'm fighting for your attention, I'm the only one making this relationship work manon" you respond tears start to blur your vision as emotions flow out

the older girl's temper suddenly cools down as she sees you cry, and then it all comes crashing down on her, guilt, regret and self-hatred, how did she end up like this? — why was she busy with another woman when you were there all along waiting for her

"babe, don't cry" manon quickly hugs you as you sob, it felt as if she had killed something, that something was the love you two had poured out for eachother

never in a thousand years would have she guessed that she would do this to you, yet she had to tell you, manon thinks about the words that would leave her mouth in the next second before she stammers, "forgive me, my love"

"i-i cheated, my love i am so sorry" manon stutters as the words get stuck in her throat, she felt your sobs get deeper and more hurt

thoughts flood your mind, maybe you weren't enough?, did you ever show less compassion?, where did you lack?

"was i not enough manon?" you finally mutter to her, you felt so stupid, stupid that you knew something was wrong but chose to stay silent, to stay with her, "no, please don't think that way — i was selfish and wanted more when you had given me everything"

"i love you, y/n please don't leave me, ill change i promise please give me a chance" manon begs as words keep spilling from her mouth, you didn't hear her, all you heard was she needed more and you couldn't give it

it felt all too wrong, sophia who you always knew was a friend was sleeping with manon? your girlfriend — all those nights that you'd wait for manon to come home, cook for her hell even clean for her, yet she still cheated?

you felt betrayed and hurt, you walked to the bedroom and started packing a bag, with your clothes and things, "baby don't leave me" manon pleaded, yet you didnt respond maybe if she did this earlier you wouldve huddled her and comforted her but not anymore

"i need to clear my mind manon, please i can't put up with this bullshit" you whisper afraid of what lies ahead between you two

manon craddles her face, afraid of what she might lose, as she sees you walk away from what once was a place of love now just a painful reminder of what they were

what she has ruined all for a little more attention

[lostlikesaebyeok]

Would you be willing to write the idol saebyeok x idol female reader where a sex tape of them gets leaked??? Or maybe where sae gets jealous because for a movie the reader has to do a sex scene??

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: 𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒂𝒆-𝒃𝒚𝒆𝒐𝒌 :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: kang sae-byeok x fem!idol!reader PT 5

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒂𝒖: idolverse / celebrity au

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: angst → jealousy → hurt/comfort → established relationship

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: sex tape leak, discussions of media invasion, emotional jealousy, possessive!sae, suggestive content, light smut references, mention of sex scenes, angst but with resolution, established relationship

✧˚·̩͙﹕𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚:

the world sees too much.

first the tape, then the headlines, then the “what’s next?” questions neither of you want to answer.

sae-byeok doesn’t say it out loud, but you know the idea of someone else touching you, even for a scene, sets her off.

she’s not good at asking for comfort. she’s good at burning.

but you’ve always been hers, even when the cameras roll. especially when they don’t.

you two were never really good at hiding.

not from the cameras, not from the fans, not from the way sae-byeok’s fingers lingered just a second too long on your wrist backstage. not from the way you looked at her like she was your last cigarette in a city with no lighters.

and for the most part, the world loved you for it.

you were the industry’s worst-kept secret. two idols, two girls with blunt tongues and tired smiles, two hearts beating like war drums behind designer clothes.

so when it happened. when the leak hit the forums at around 5 a.m. when fan accounts started tweeting in all caps, when the trending tags exploded with your names, it didn’t feel real.

not at first.

you were the first to see it.

you were alone in the dorm’s tiny bathroom, sitting on the closed toilet lid with your knees pulled up to your chest, scrolling through mentions like you always do after promotions. the headlines screamed "leaked private video of idols sparks outrage and support," but it was the still frame that made your heart drop: the soft curve of your own jaw, sae-byeok’s mouth against your shoulder, the hoodie you always wore pulled halfway off. grainy. stolen. horrifyingly intimate.

you didn't cry.

instead, you locked the screen and stood in the mirror staring at yourself like you might disappear. the music of distant traffic filled the silence. your fingers trembled.

you didn't know how long you'd stood there before sae-byeok came in, eyes dark, already knowing.

“you saw it?”

you nodded, voice cracking. “yeah.”

you two didn't speak for hours.

your managers showed up by sunrise. statements were drafted. lawyers were called. companies scrambled to control the narrative.

but none of it mattered.

not when you kept glancing at sae-byeok like she was about to shatter.

not when sae-byeok kept her hand resting lightly on the small of your back, like she could protect you from a world that only wanted to eat you alive.

“you think they’ll drop us?” you asked that night, curled into sae-byeok’s hoodie, your voice flat.

sae-byeok leaned against the wall, staring out the hotel window. “i think they’ll try.”

“you think people hate us now?”

“no.” she paused. “but i think some people were waiting for a reason to.”

you didn’t respond. you pressed your face into sae-byeok’s chest instead, inhaling that familiar scent of lemon shampoo and stage sweat.

“i feel like my body isn’t mine anymore.”

that broke something in sae-byeok.

she pulled you in tighter, her voice a whisper only you two could hear.

“it’s still yours. always yours. no one gets to take that from you.”

your fans were split.

some called you reckless. some screamed that you were brave. others posted thinkpieces about the double standard, about how male idols bounced back and female ones got crucified.

you stopped checking your socials. sae-byeok deleted her twitter.

you shared a hotel room under temporary protection. two mattresses pushed together like a lifeline. some nights, you said nothing at all. just breathing. just skin. just fingers tracing the parts of each other that hadn’t yet been weaponised by the world.

“we’ll survive,” sae-byeok whispered one night, lips pressed to your collarbone. “we always do.”

“but we’re not the same,” you replied, eyes open in the dark.

“maybe not,” sae-byeok said. “but we’re still us.”

the interview came a month later.

both of you were dressed in black, no makeup. you sat close, knees touching. the host asked carefully rehearsed questions. but it was the unspoken that carried weight. the way you glanced at sae-byeok before speaking, the way sae-byeok took your hand under the table when your voice shook.

“we never wanted to be a scandal and we definitely didn't want that to get leaked,” you said.

“we just wanted to be in love,” sae-byeok added. “like anyone else.”

months passed. endorsements disappeared. one brand cut ties. another posted a rainbow and a heart. your comeback was delayed, then reworked, then announced as a unit project.

on stage again, you two performed like fire meeting gasoline, no apologies, no nerves. just raw, burning connection.

your fans screamed louder than ever. the comments flooded with heart emojis and fierce defenses. even your haters seemed to grow tired eventually.

one night, back in your dorm, you stood at the mirror again, barefaced, wearing sae's hoodie, hair tucked behind your ears.

“do you think we’ll ever forget it happened?” you asked.

sae-byeok came up behind you, wrapping your arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“no,” she said. “but maybe it won’t hurt forever.”

you turned around and pressed your foreheads together.

“i still love you,” you whispered.

“good,” sae-byeok replied. “because i’d burn the whole world for you.”

the offer came out of nowhere.

your agency had barely finished cleaning up the mess from the leak when your manager dropped the script on your desk with a tight smile.

“it’s a romance. indie film. the director’s young, progressive. they want you, specifically.”

you flipped through the pages. soft, poetic dialogue. long silences. aching tension between the lead and her on-screen lover.

and then scene 48.

int. bedroom – night.

clothes on the floor. mouths open. skin against skin.

you didn’t say anything.

you just stared at it, chewing your lip, knowing exactly how this would go.

“you’re not doing it.”

sae-byeok stood by the window of your shared apartment, arms crossed, her jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscles twitch.

“they didn’t even ask you,” she continued. “they just assumed you’d be okay simulating sex with someone else like– like it’s nothing.”

you sat on the edge of the couch, script in your lap, fingers trembling just a little.

“it’s acting, sae.”

“acting?” she snapped. “they’re gonna put their hands all over you. they’re gonna make you moan into someone’s mouth and– no. no, i’m not okay with it.”

you blinked. “i didn’t say i was doing it.”

she stopped, the fire in her voice suddenly smothered by silence.

you stood slowly, letting the script drop to the floor like it weighed more than it should.

“do you really think i want to do a scene like that after everything that happened?” you asked, voice quiet. “do you think i want to see my body like that again, in someone else’s hands, even if it’s fake?”

sae-byeok’s face crumbled.

all the sharpness melted into something raw and guilty.

“i’m sorry,” she said. “i just... the thought of someone else touching you like that, i saw how much it destroyed you the first time. and i know it’s not the same. i know this is fiction. but it hurts to imagine it.”

you walked over to her slowly, hands slipping around her waist.

“i turned it down.”

“what?”

you nodded, pressing your forehead to hers. “i told them i’d do the role if the scene was rewritten. if it stayed emotional, not physical. and if they didn’t agree, i’d walk.”

sae-byeok’s hands gripped your hips like she was scared you’d vanish.

“you’d give it up? for me?”

“not just for you,” you said. “for me. for us. because love doesn’t always mean proving how far you’ll go. sometimes it means knowing when to stop.”

she exhaled, the breath leaving her like it had been stuck in her chest for hours.

“god, i love you,” she whispered. “even when i’m stupid. even when i get jealous and possessive and scared.”

“especially then,” you said, smiling. “because that’s when you’re the most honest.”

she kissed you, soft, slow, no cameras. no scripts.

just sae-byeok. just home.

the film came out three months later.

you played the lead with aching tenderness. every scene dripped with chemistry, but it was the longing glances and the held hands that stole the show.

the bedroom scene? it was rewritten into a dimly lit conversation under the covers.

no skin. no mouths. just two girls in the dark, whispering like they might never speak again.

fans loved it.

critics basically called it shit in fancy words.

you just called it right.

and when the final credits rolled, sae-byeok was waiting in the lobby of the private premiere, a hoodie over her head, arms crossed, but her smile gave her away.

“you were brilliant,” she said.

you smirked. “jealous still?”

“always.”

you leaned in, lips brushing her ear. “good. keeps things interesting.”

and just like that, you were hers again.

no cameras. no edits. no retakes.

just two girls in love, choosing each other over and over, no matter what the world tried to take.

thank u for reading, angel ♡

i did both requests in one because i thought i could make it tie together!!!

♡ tags: @eunchacha @ilovesawbyeokandjjmaybank @saeshairtie @gg0mezz @saphicsaturn @gyuyoungg @lyzem @janegrapefruitttt @reynadeluniverso @laylaheinz @laurenkenss @bleedingwhiteroses222 @maevelovessae

[minus-plus-zer0]

"You Know You're Fictional, Right?"

♡ Genre: Fluff, crack ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Fem!Reader ♡ Tags: Established relationships

You just wanted to fuck with his head, that's all.

"Katsuki," you said to your loving and ever-patient boyfriend, "you know you're fictional, right?"

"Hah?"

You leaned on his bedroom desk, giving him the utmost pitying and concerned look. Bakugou was not having it today.

"Don't you got anything better to do than to mess with me?!" Bakugou banged his fist on the desk. "Why the hell are you accusing me of being fictional?"

"I'm only warning you for you own sake," you said, voice wobbling from sadness. Bakugou just narrowed his eyes at you. "I've wanted to tell you for a while... but..." You sniffled. "I didn't know how to bring it up!"

"So now that we're dating, you wanna pull this shit?"

"...Yes? I-I just needed to earn your trust before I--ah!"

Bakugou tickled you and you giggled, wrenching yourself away from his evil fingers. You caught your breath a short distance away from him, while he grinned madly in his seat.

"Got you back," Bakugou said, satisfied at your state of disarray from the tickles. "Now don't go calling me fictional again! I'm your real boyfriend! Not a fake one. Who do you think you're calling 'fictional'?"

"But what if I have to go back to my home world someday? you asked. "You can't just avoid this conversation, Katsuki!"

"I can and I will. Now, are you gonna cuddle with me or not, babe?"

You sighed and curled up in his lap while he finished his homework. You continued to ramble on about your theories regarding your shared world, how superpowers weren't natural, and how even All Might didn't exist in the world you supposedly came from.

“Am I the most popular in your world?” he asked, barely trying to humor you. “Or do those idiots got bad taste?”

He was the most popular, but you wouldn’t tell him that. “No, it’s actually Midoriya.”

“What?! Him?! You’re lying! That world is messed up.”

“You still have plenty of fans though!”

“...Are they weird and creepy fans?”

“Um… define ‘weird and creepy’.”

“Uggggghhh." Bakugou held you tighter in his lap. "Just shoot me.”

“Don’t say that!" You stroked his head. "At least people still like you at all! They love seeing your adventures!”

Bakugou slammed his pencil on the desk. “That wasn’t for them to see! That was private! You hear me? Private!” Bakugou lowered his voice, his face close to yours. “What goes on between us is private too. Now don’t go telling your little imaginary friends what we do. That’s only for us to know.”

Bakugou kissed you and then turned back to his homework. You sighed and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You still don’t believe you’re fictional,” you murmured. “Poor baby is in denial.”

"It’s ’cause your world sounds boring," Bakugou said, mindlessly writing out answers in his homework. Then, he turned back to you. "You should stick with this one. I want you staying here forever. You’re mine.”

"Katsuki, I was only trying to prank you. Of course I'm staying here!"

"Then why the fuck did you bring up all that sad shit about leaving to your own world! Don't say that kinda crap outta nowhere!"

"But that's my specialty."

Bakugou kiss-attacked your face, making you giggle as you swatted his terrifying kisses away.

"Specialty my ass," Bakugou said, beaming at you. "Go be special at something else then, how about that? Like tell me about your day or who's been bugging you. Don't go talking about how you're leaving me, it pisses me off."

"Katsuki, you know how my day was. We hang out all the time!"

"Well then fucking remind me!"

Nothing you did could convince Bakugou he was fictional, and maybe that was fine. The next day, you instead tried to make him believe that you were his fictional girlfriend, and he didn’t like that either.

“I didn’t get an imaginary girlfriend ‘cause I’m supposedly lonely, dammit!”

“I don’t know,” Kaminari said. “It sounds pretty plausible for you.”

The moment Bakugou’s hands started exploding, Kaminari ran away screaming. From then on, Bakugou had to prove to everyone that you and him were actually together and that no, dating him was not another one of your elaborate pranks. And from now on, Bakugou will side-eye you if you mention any other fictional crushes you have...

(This one has been sitting in my drafts for ages!)

[five-rivers]

Experiment: Monochrome Maniacal

This is the first entry of the first of my two experimental audience participation fics. Participation instructions are below the fic segment.

Tags for this section: Pitch Pearl (Danny Fenton/Danny Phantom), ghost catcher

Masterpost

.

Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

That stupid aphorism ran through Danny’s head as he looked at the Ghost Catcher and clenched and unclenched his hands.  This… This was a bad idea.  He knew.  But he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t talk to someone.

He might be going crazy now, seeing as his brilliant idea was to split himself in two and talk to himself.  

But lots of people talked to themselves to work out problems, right?  As long as they didn’t think they were talking to another person it was fine.

This was just a more extreme version of that, that’s all.  

(If he stared at the Ghost Catcher anymore, he might not do it.)

Danny breathed in deeply, transformed in a flash of light, then flew through the glowing green threads of the Ghost Catcher.  

There was a moment of sharp disorientation, of vertigo, of feeling simultaneously caught on the lines, like walking through a spiderweb, and falling through them untouched, of skin pulling stickily away from skin, of looking down and up at himself at the same time, and then–

Phantom caught Danny by the wrist, and, carefully, lowered himself– him the rest of the way to the ground.  

“Wow, that– So, that worked,” said Danny.  The last time, he– they had only been separated for a few seconds.  Long enough to note it as happening and then re-merge.  He'd half expected to get sucked back together just as fast this time.  

Phantom looked up at the Ghost Catcher, then back at Danny.  He nodded.  “So… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” asked Danny.  “I mean, it’s about ghost stuff, isn’t it?”

“And lying to everyone in our human life,” said Phantom, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.  

Ugh, did Danny really look like that in ghost form?  All… upright.  And shiny.  It didn’t seem real.  Was it real?  Danny never had to interpret his body language from the outside before.  

Danny slumped.  “Maybe this isn’t going to work.  We should just… go back together.”

“What?  No!” said Phantom.  “We haven’t even tried yet.”

“Then you say something.”

They glared at each other for a second, then Phantom clicked his tongue.  “Fine,” he said, “but it's not like you don't already know.”

“Yeah, that was the point.”

Phantom didn't reply right away, instead looking around the lab with an expression of increasing distaste.  His eyes fell on the portal and he scowled before looking away.  “Can we go somewhere else?  I hate it here.”

“You do?” asked Danny, surprised.  Did… did he hate it down here?  He wasn’t sure.  

“Uh, yeah?” Phantom looked down at Danny, incredulous.  “It's full of weapons made specifically to hurt me.”

“Not specifically you,” objected Danny.  “They made a bunch of these before they even knew you existed.”

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better,” said Phantom.  “They’re just for hurting and hunting down ghosts.”

.

Thank you for reading this far! If you would like to participate, please reply to this post with what you want to happen or want to see in the fic next. This can be an event (e.g. the lab suddenly explodes), a character appearing (e.g. Wes, Sam, Undergrowth), a headcanon being added to the story (e.g. ghost hunger), a POV switch (e.g. switch to Jazz), a setting element (e.g. the year is 2104), a ship (e.g. Everlasting Trio), or something else I've forgotten to list here.

To be used in the poll, your suggestions must:

Fit in a poll option (80 charaters or less)

Not include crossover elements

Not include minor/adult ships

Be compatible with already established story elements

Other feedback is also welcome! Feel free to send me an ask!

[goobstars]

𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

summary : headcanons about what it's like to date caine.

tags : romance, and caine being caine.

note : please tell me i'm not weird for finding a literal pair of dentures attractive like please tell me you all see the vision. he's a goobster and i love him. i'm doing headcanons because i wanna make sure i write him good before making fics.

— caine wouldn't really understand the concept of dating.

— all his little ai mind knows is how to create adventures, so you'd probably have to describe dating like an adventure to him, and he'd be taking "notes" the whole time.

"okay, caine—" the man sat in front of you with a sketchpad and pen in his grip, and he stared up at you as he waited for you to continue. "dating is like an adventure, but mostly forever, you know? depends on the person." the sound of his pen scribbling against the paper echoed in the circus as you slightly paced back and forth, and you tried to think of other ways to word it. "on this type of adventure, you can do certain things. like you can buy gifts for the other person, hug them, things like that." you were having a hard time describing it, and you looked towards caine as he gifted you a firm nod. "i believe i understand this whole 'dating thing', now!" he announced as he lifted up his sketchpad to show you, and all that was on it was a drawing of a bee. "did i do good?" at his question, you let out a quiet laugh as you examined his drawing. it was a start. "definitely."

— later, he'd probably try and scavenge his mind for something that gives him a little bit more detail about dating, and he'd probably get this gist of it sooner or later. all he has to do is care about you, and if he was being honest, he did care about you a lot. more than the other members.

— and according to google (something he is not affiliated with whatsoever because it doesn't exist in canon), people who are dating feel that way.

— so, now you both are officially dating!

— he watches you closely during adventures because he doesn't want you to get hurt.

— the monster could be sprinting towards you, and then it just explodes into confetti while caine swears that it was part of the adventure.

— he would most certainly ramble to you about zooble.

— like, he'd be floating in the air with his head down while he mumbles about how they didn't want to go on another one of his adventures that he SPECIFICALLY made for them, and you would be on the ground holding your arms out while he slowly descends before hugging you.

— he's very touchy, by the way.

— just like dating, he doesn't understand the concept of affection, but all he knows is that it feels good so he does it anyway.

— his favourite thing to do is poke you. of course, it's a gentle little poke either to your arm or face, but he constantly does it because he finds it funny.

— caine talks with his hands a lot, so if you were talking with him, you might want to be a couple steps away from him unless you want to get backhanded.

— he's done it before, and it wouldn't be a surprise if it happened again.

— or, his cane would bump into you.

— his cane just seemingly floats around when he's not holding onto it, so its bumped into you a few times.

— if you were to ask him to take you on a date adventure, he'd happily do so!

— he would probably use his ai mind or something to try and come up with actual romantic things to do, for he's overheard you say how you wanted to be romantic, but it's hard because he's seemingly oblivious to everything.

— so, he takes it upon himself to romance you. yes, that's what he calls flirting—romancing.

— he'd ask the other members of the circus what a good date idea was, or an idea they thought you'd like.

— after that, he'd create an adventure! and in his words, "we must inform the people of the palace what we wish to have before venturing into the 'garden of no return', where we will walk until we've defeated the monster of doom!"

— it was a dinner adventure.

— you both ate, walked through a rather pretty garden, and that monster he was talking about? he was talking about hate. jax said that you would hate him if he planned a stupid adventure, and he made a monster appear in the middle of your date called 'hate'.

— it was literally just bubble, though.

— he would introduce himself as hate and say the only way to "defeat" him was to kiss caine.

— you'd "kiss" him (kissing him is just pressing your lips against his teeth), and while you were kissing him, he'd pop bubble.

— you best tell him how much you loved the adventure afterwards, or he'd be insanely sad.

— also, you know how he called the other members weird names after their adventures? like "my meowing milkmaids" and "my little hard-shelled hamburgers"?

— yeah, those are the type of nicknames you're getting from him.

— as far as you know it, you're his 'sozzled silly billy'. when you're sad, you're his 'soggy upsetti-spaghetti noodle'. when you're mad at him, you're his 'little fussy-balussyussy bumblebee'.

— he just makes up words most of the time, but do you still go with it? yes.

— he likes to carry you around the circus.

— he'll float around with you, and if you're scared of heights and demanding to be put down, that's exactly what he'd do.

— he'd drop you midair while he just floats there with a proud look on his face before realizing what he did.

— you should've been mad at him, but after seeing the look he gave you, you just can't be mad.

— it's obvious that caine doesn't like when people are upset at him—including you. he likes it when everyone is happy. so, when you get upset at him, he just stands there with slumped shoulders while staring at you.

— if you did remain upset at him, though, and try to walk away, he will grab your legs and beg you to forgive him. he will not let go until you forgive him.

— as soon as you forgive him, he'd be all happy again.

— will most certainly show you every drawing of a bee he makes, and you'd better praise him every time. it could literally be the same drawing, but he will hold it up to you like a kid would, and he just stares at you until you compliment his work.

— he will draw you and him as bees by the way.

— those are the only drawings he will not show you, and if you catch him drawing you and him together, he'd toss the sketchpad at bubble so she'd eat it.

— and suddenly, you all have to go on an adventure that he hopes is enough to make you forget what you saw.

[sugar-chu]

This is my first ever post. I don't really know how to tumblr but I guess I'll try...

I like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, this will be what I post on here uhh!!

Yay Ramona!!

I actually just recently got into TMNT, I started off by watching Mutant Mayhem around 2 years ago while I was at a business camp and then decided to come back and watch a bunch of other stuff. Safe to say, I now thinking about Turtles every second of the day.

And Volume 1 of the IDW Collection for TMNT is on the way.

Currently, I'm watching 2012 and got to Season 4!! I really loved Mona Lisa and I absolutely ADORE Ramona. I will die on this spaceship.

"What a woman" will forever rot in my head. I think I need to go back and rewind that specific clip over and over again because he was so mystified and absolutely in love. Ugh. Incredible. Give me an infinite amount more of that.

This was a great breath of fresh air considering April x Donnie has been PAINFUL to watch, I don't know what the flip went on between time girl and Mikey (That one might have been more painful), and Karai and Leo are technically siblings???? Even if not biologically?? So why are we still calling Karai Leo's girlfriend after we know you're all siblings, Boys.

I could ramble about 2012 all day, the animations gotten better as I've watched through the episodes, but I'm lost most of the time. Tiger Claw please come to the good side your design is so gorgeous.

Little confused why the turtles are now in space. But f it we ball. I'll probably primarily draw Rise... after I figure out how the flip to draw them...

Kinda wanna play with the idea of different versions of the turtles meeting each other after seeing 2012 have one of the older versions of the show in their episode. That was sick af.

Seems like 2012 Donnie would be most on track to figure out a way to hop dimensions.... but I need to watch everything first before I figure out which Donnie would figure out dimension hopping first. Technically as far as I'm aware, 2012 has already managed to travel dimensions thanks to the warp gates or whatever the Kraang had been using.

Which, by the way, if Dimension X is a planet, and the warp gate wasn't a dimensional gate way, but instead a warp gate to another galaxy wherever Dimension X was, that would also mean the older version of the Turtles isn't its own alternate universe or dimension, but instead another Earth in another galaxy where the turtles are also simultaneously living at the same time.

Space is weird. Don't ask me more about this, my brain might explode I'm still so confused.

2012 is confusing. Very... very confusing.

These are my own takes on Raph and Mona's space designs, please spare me, I'm here for a fun time not an accurate fanart time. And I didn't feel like surfing the internet until I got screenshots of their designs from all angles.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk

Turtle Power!!!

Okay... now to figure out how tags work...

[iniquitousyearning]

MATTHEO RIDDLE- Beg For Me

Chapter Eleven-Info: You and Mattheo have been butting heads for months, since you were assigned as his tutor, and one day during a session full of tense bickering, he has enough.

(This will essentially be a toxic book where we are Theos fucktoy. No love here, very minimal fluff.)

Tags: 18+, Sub!Reader, Dom!Mattheo, Dirty Talk, Toxic Behaviour, Jealousy, Possessive Behaviours, Manipulation, Sexual Aggression, Angst, Emotional Manipulation, Slytherin!Boys, Weaponizing!EnzoBerkshire.

****FIND THE REST OF THE CHAPTERS HERE.

Friday morning arrived, but you found yourself ensnared by an unwelcome visitor: illness. Your usual vibrant energy was replaced by a lethargic heaviness, your throat scratchy, and your head pounding with each heartbeat. Emily's concerned eyes followed your every move at the breakfast table, her worried whispers barely audible above the hum of the Great Hall.

Thursday had been a disaster. Despite the guild meeting's anticipation, you couldn't summon an ounce of excitement. The prospect of seeing Tom, once a source of thrill and exciting opportunities, now felt like a daunting challenge. As you walked past him, you avoided his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed on the floor and not daring to converse with him outside of a few small shared words during the meeting. Ignoring him was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the whirlwind of conflicting emotions that threatened to consume you.

Every fiber of your being wanted to be excited, but the illness, accompanied by the haunting words from Mattheo, had drained you of joy and left only a hollow emptiness. The guild meeting, once a highlight of your week, felt like a distant obligation. Your world had shifted, leaving you adrift in a sea of uncertainty and discomfort, the very essence of your existence shaken by the turmoil within.

"Are you okay?" Emily's voice sliced through the quiet, laced with concern. "You look like you're about to faint."

"I'm just not feeling well," you replied, your voice barely audible above the buzz of the Great Hall.

The words that left your lips were somewhat true, but they were a mask over your real problems. A torrent of conflicting emotions churned within you, the chaos of Mattheo's unpredictable behavior warring with the complexities of your situation with Tom. Each thought pulled you in a different direction, leaving you in a state of internal turmoil that threatened to consume you whole. Despite your efforts to hide it, the storm inside your mind was evident in your eyes, a silent plea for understanding that you were desperate to keep hidden.

Emily's concerned expression softened into one of understanding, her eyes reflecting the depth of her friendship with you. She didn't press further, sensing the boundaries you had set. Instead, she offered you a gentle, reassuring smile.

"You've been working so hard," she said, softly. "You should cancel your tutoring tonight. You need a bloody night off--you're working yourself sick."

Internally, your turmoil grew. If only Emily knew the real reason behind your illness, the tangled web of secrets and emotions that threatened to suffocate you. The rule-breaking involvement with Mattheo weighed heavily on your conscience, a constant reminder of the dangerous path you were treading, one that was bound to explode at some point, one that was certain to bring your entire world crashing down with it when it did.

Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to confide in Emily, to burden her with the knowledge of your own reckless choices. The fear of judgment and the complexities of your feelings kept you silent, trapped in a cycle of self-imposed secrecy.

"I appreciate your concern, Emily," you replied, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "I honestly think I might just do that...I'm going to tell him now."

Emily's face fell, her eyes widening with a mix of worry and disbelief. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words died on her lips. Before she could voice her concerns or attempt to hold you back, you were already rising from your seat, your determination etched on your face like a battle flag. With every step toward the Slytherin table, your gaze bored into Mattheo's disheveled appearance like a laser, an unspoken challenge burning in your eyes.

Your feet carried you forward with purpose, each step echoing your heartbeat which relentlessly thundered in your ears, drowning out the ambient sounds of the bustling Great Hall. The world around you blurred, the faces of your fellow students becoming mere smudges of colour as you zeroed in on Mattheo. A surge of adrenaline coursed through your veins, urging you forward even as doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind.

As you drew closer, you realized the gravity of your decision, the precariousness of the situation you were about to confront, but in that moment, you knew you were already in too deep, you knew that there was no turning back.

"Riddle."

You uttered, your voice slicing through the air like a dagger. However, it was as if your words were swallowed by an invisible void; no one at the table even remotely acknowledging your presence.

"Riddle."

You repeated, your tone sharper this time. This caught Draco Malfoy's attention, his sharp, silver eyes locking onto yours with predatory amusement. His smirk, a cruel curve etched on his lips, seemed to mock your efforts. You shot him an eye roll, dismissing his silent taunts, but it only fueled his amusement, his head tilting slightly in enjoyment. Frustration simmered beneath your skin, a restless energy seeking an outlet. Exasperation surged through you, a tempest of emotions threatening to burst from within.

"Mattheo!"

You finally exclaimed, the name carrying the weight of your frustration and determination. The word hung in the air like a thunderclap, freezing everyone at the Slytherin table in their tracks. The effect was immediate and profound. It was as if you had tossed a live wire onto the table, sending shockwaves through the once-buzzing atmosphere.

A sudden, eerie silence descended upon the Slytherin table. The lively chatter ceased abruptly, and every single pair of eyes turned toward you with an intensity that bordered on disbelief. Berkshire, Zabini, Nott, Black, Malfoy, and Riddle, as well as a few unfamiliar faces, locked their gazes onto yours, each expression mirroring a different shade of astonishment--ranging in various raised eyebrows to widened, shocked eyes.

Before you had a chance to compose yourself, Berkshire, seated directly in front of you, sported a wide, contemptuous grin, his eyes gleaming with disdain.

"Well, well, look who's decided to grace us with her presence," Enzo sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. "Did you finally tire of your precious textbooks, sweetheart? Or are you just here to make a fool of yourself?"

Mattheo's eyes widened in mild astonishment, his usual mask of indifference momentarily slipping as he watched the scene unfold. His lips twitched, almost forming a smirk, but he remained silent, keenly observing the confrontation.

You straightened your back, your gaze unwavering as you met Enzo's sneer head-on. "I'm not here to entertain you, Enzo," you replied, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "But if you have nothing else to do besides insult people, maybe you should consider finding a hobby that doesn't involve being an insufferable prat."

The table fell into a stunned silence, the previous atmosphere of mockery dissipating like smoke in the wind. Enzo's sneer faltered, his expression contorting into a mixture of surprise and indignation.

Zabini raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. "Looks like this raven has some fuckin' claws...watch out boys..."

Nott stifled a laugh behind his hand, clearly entertained by the unexpected turn of events. Black shot you an approving nod, wordlessly acknowledging your verbal victory, and even Malfoy, though still aloof, seemed intrigued by your bold response.

Mattheo's eyes, however, bore into yours with an unreadable intensity, a hint of something flickering beneath the surface--mixture of surprise, pride, and a touch of something more complicated. Enzo's face flushed with anger, his eyes narrowing into slits as he prepared a retort. However, before he could unleash his reply, Mattheo's voice sliced through the tension like a dagger.

"What do you want, Raven?" His tone was calm, collected, almost entirely unfazed.

Inhaling deeply, you mustered your courage and looked directly into Mattheo's eyes. "I won't be able to make it for potions tonight," you stated firmly, your voice unwavering despite the charged atmosphere. "Feeling a bit under the weather."

Mattheo's lips curled into a subtle smirk, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Under the weather, huh?" he said, his tone laced with feigned concern. "Such a shame. I suppose I'll have to find another way to occupy my evening."

There was a playful challenge in his words, hinting at an unspoken understanding between the two of you. Around the table, the boys exchanged raised eyebrow glances, their expressions laced with sadistic curiosity. Their eyes flicked between you and Mattheo, absorbing the interaction with keen interest, as if trying to unravel the depth of the connection between the two of you. The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension, each of them leaning in slightly, eager to catch any nuances in your conversation, their curiosity piqued by the intriguing dynamic at play.

"I suppose you will," you said, your voice laced with venom. "Enjoy your evening, Riddle."

Just as you attempted to leave, a cold, harsh grip closed around your wrist, making you gasp in surprise. Glancing down, you found Berkshire's twisted face leering up at you, a sadistic smirk playing on his lips.

"If you ever need help getting that stick out of your uptight ass, I'd consider lending a hand," his eyes glinted with malicious intent as he taunted, "of course, for the right price...I'm not as generous as Mattheo."

Your eyes narrowed, fury burning in your veins like wildfire. "Mattheo, generous?" you scoffed, disbelief lacing your words. "That's the last word I'd associate him with."

Berkshire's lips twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes glinting with sadistic satisfaction. "Oh, trust me, little bird," he sneered, leaning in closer, "generosity might not be his best feature--but sometimes, when you're dealing with snakes, it's better to know which one bites less."

His grip tightened briefly before he released you, leaving you seething with anger and frustration. Mattheo's jaw clenched visibly, his fingers curling into fists at Berkshire's audacious words. His eyes narrowed, a storm of anger brewing beneath the surface, but he maintained his composure.

"Watch your tongue, Berkshire." With a chilling calmness, he spoke, his voice laced with a warning tone. "And what did I tell you about fucking touching her?"

His words hung heavy in the air, a subtle threat underlying the calm facade. The atmosphere grew tenser, and even Berkshire seemed to falter slightly under the weight of Mattheo's gaze. The unspoken tension between the two boys crackled, leaving an electric charge in the room.

But then, Berkshire's lips curled into a sinister smile, as if he'd just come to some sudden realization, his eyes glinting with malicious amusement.

"My apologies, Riddle," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm, glancing around at all of the other boys at the table. "I didn't realize she was off-limits...but, I have to say, it's quite intriguing, isn't it? The way you guard her so fiercely. Makes one wonder just how close you two really are."

Your irritation swelled, the annoyance becoming almost tangible. How had you thought Mattheo's snark was bad? This guy was in an entire fucking league of his own.

"What truly intrigues me is how someone as insufferable as you manages to function on a daily basis," you hissed, each word dripping with venom, spat out through gritted teeth. "I didn't think it was possible to be more arrogant than Mattheo, but I suppose congratulations are in order. At least you win at something, unlike Quiddit-"

Before you could finish your sentence, Berkshire erupted from his seat, his face contorted with rage, poised to confront you, stalling your lungs in your chest. The rest of the boys swiftly intervened, seizing him and forcefully yanking him back down into his seat, averting a potential escalation of yet another confrontation, each of them exchanging uneasy glances.

Mattheo's demeanor was a storm of barely restrained fury, his eyes dark and blazing with intensity. Despite his efforts to remain composed, the anger seeping from him was palpable, casting a shadow over the entire table.

You shot a scathing look at Berkshire, his gaze avoiding yours as he muttered bitter words under his breath, unwilling to engage in anymore direct confrontation.

Despite the tension, your voice dripped with disdain as you whispered, "bloody pathetic."

The words hung in the air, heavy with disgust, lingering like a ghostly mist--and before anyone had a chance to say anything else, you turned on your heel and left the hall. Each step echoed the frustration and anger that churned within you, the atmosphere thick with the lingering tension of the encounter. As you stormed down the corridor, your footsteps reverberating off the stone walls, you couldn't shake off the seething anger that clung to you like a second skin.

The distant echoes of the Great Hall's chaos faded into the background as you retreated into the quiet corridor, seeking solace from the storm you had unleashed. Just as you began to regain a semblance of composure, Mattheo's voice cut through the air like a sharp blade, his frustration palpable in the way he growled your name. You turned to face him, meeting his intense gaze, where anger and concern danced in his eyes like a tempest.

"The hell was that, Raven? What were you fucking thinking?" he demanded, his footsteps closing in with purposeful strides. His voice, though edged with annoyance, held an undercurrent of worry. "Starting a fight with Berkshire in the middle of the Great Hall? Are you trying to draw unnecessary attention to us?"

"You think I fucking started that?" Your eyes flashed with defiance, refusing to back down despite the intensity of Mattheo's gaze.

"I won't stand there and let him disrespect me, Mattheo," you retorted, your voice cutting through the silence with sharp precision. The weight of his annoyance only fueled your determination. "I'm already your doormat, I won't be his too."

There was a challenging edge to your words, a fire that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of Mattheo's frustration. It was a declaration of your unwillingness to be treated as less than you were worth, a resolve that echoed in the defiant set of your shoulders and the unwavering determination in your eyes. Mattheo's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing with a menacing intensity. He closed the distance between you in a few more swift strides, his presence overwhelming.

"You're not my doormat, Raven," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "But if you keep pushing...if you keep running your mouth like that, you might just find out what it feels like to be truly under someone's heel...I can't keep defending you without drawing suspicion."

"Oh, look at you...big tough guy, huh?" Your defiance blazed in your eyes, undeterred by Mattheo's threats. You stepped forward, kinking your neck back to catch his eyes. "What are you going to do about it, hm? Get out the belt again? We both know I can handle more than that, Riddle..."

"You're playing with fire, princess..." Mattheo warned, his tone dripping with dark amusement as it dropped to a low whisper. "And we both know how that usually ends, don't we?"

His smirk, etched with wicked allure, deepened into a predatory grin. His eyes, like shards of obsidian, glittered with a potent mixture of dominance and danger. Leaning in, he invaded your personal space, his head tilting slightly as his gaze flickered to your lips, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. Your pulse quickened, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment. Despite the adrenaline surging through your veins, you met his eyes with unwavering courage, a silent declaration that you would not be easily swayed by his aura of power and intrigue.

"Seems like that's all I do these days," you whispered back, allowing your defiance to blow away with the wind as you remembered why you even ventured to his table in the first place. "I can't do this anymore, Mattheo...I can't keep doing this...whatever the fuck this even is in the first place..."

Mattheo's eyes softened, his usual facade cracking for a moment as he reached out, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your jaw.

"Raven," he murmured, his voice filled with a complexity of emotions, "we're in too deep now...you and I both know there's no turning back..."

The dim light of the corridor cast deep shadows across Mattheo's features, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. His eyes, normally ablaze with confidence, were now clouded with uncertainty, a storm of conflicting emotions. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, adding to the enigmatic aura that surrounded him. As he leaned in, the scent of his cologne wrapped around you, intoxicating and alluring.

"No, Mattheo..." you breathed, turning your head to avoid his lips. "You said no strings but there seems to be a lot of fucking strings...it’s all too much…”

Your inner turmoil churned like a tempest within, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions tearing at the very core of your existence. There was an ache nestled deep in your chest, a painful acknowledgment that you were bound to Mattheo in ways that defied logic and reason. The desire for something genuine, something profound and real, clashed violently with the brutal truth that it could never be.

It was a cruel paradox: Mattheo's possessiveness, his insistence on claiming you, even in the shadowy realms of secrecy, left you feeling both wanted and yet painfully isolated. The longing for an authentic connection battled relentlessly with the reality that this clandestine affair could never transform into something meaningful. You found yourself ensnared in a complex web, a moth irresistibly drawn to a flame, unable to resist its allure despite the inevitable burn.

His games and possessive gestures were merely agonizing reminders of the insurmountable boundaries. Yet, the magnetic pull of his presence, the way he ignited a fire within you, kept you entangled in this perilous dance. Your feelings for him were perplexing, a tumultuous mix of intense desire and seething resentment. He made you experience emotions you had never felt before, confusing you with the sheer intensity of your reactions.

You hated him, despised the way he treated you, yet he had an inexplicable power over you, making you feel both alive and trapped simultaneously. The dichotomy between the pleasure he brought and the pain he inflicted left you utterly confounded, adrift in a sea of emotions, desperately searching for an anchor that seemed forever out of reach.

Mattheo's eyes softened even further as he blinked, catching the flicker of turmoil in your gaze. He stepped back, the intensity of the moment breaking as he ran a hand through his tousled hair, a gesture of frustration and resignation.

"You're just not feeling well..." he said, his voice void of emotion, as though your turmoil was inconsequential, as though your current health state somehow made any fucking difference. "Get some rest, Raven. See you Wednesday."

His words hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste, a reminder of the futility of your situation. With a final, detached glance, he turned away and spun down the dimly lit hall, his figure gradually fading into the shadows. The weight of his indifference settled on your shoulders, a heavy burden that mirrored the ache in your heart. As he disappeared from view, you stood there, alone in the corridor, feeling both abandoned and entangled, like a moth caught in a web of its own making.

—————-

Chapter twelve->

[minimomoe]

Hi just wanted to let you know I LOVEDDD Not Just Neighbors but I have a question does reader know about Logan and variant reader in his past universe and if she doesn’t then who would tell her and how would she react?would she be understanding?or would she feel like Logan’s only with her to fill in variant readers place? (I don’t know if your requests are open so you can ignore this if not or if you don’t feel comfortable answering :D)

For the sake of keeping it a short (I tried my hardest but ik it's long lol) oneshot reader understands that she might have meant something to Logan in his universe but doesn't press on it since he seldom talks about his past. I kinda wrote that whole story on a whim so I didn't think too hard about it. Since you asked so nicely, here's an alternate excerpt of how that realization could've went: wrd ct: 1.9k tags: a little angsty but that's all

Not a Replacement

"Wade you gotta tell me. We're on better terms now, but why did Logan hate me so much? I hardly ever talked to him but when he sees me his face scrunches up like he smells shit. Do I smell like shit? Be honest."

Wade's nose went straight to the crook of your neck and you rolled your eyes before shoving him away. "What?! You said to be honest. You smell great though," he shrugged.

"Okay, so what was it?"

"What is what?"

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Your patience was running thin and you didn't have time for Wade's games. "What was the reason? He's your roommate, you gotta know something."

You were sitting at Wade's dining table and you saw the food in his mouth slow to snail speed. His eyes darted to you for only a second but it was all you needed.

"Wade," you said in a warning tone. "Do you know something?"

"I know a lot of things. For instance, I know that you are the best damn cook in this whole apartment building, you're insanely gorgeous, you hate when people keep secrets, and did I mention how really fucking pretty you are?"

"You better tell me or so help me god every plate I bring you will be under seasoned and burnt to a crisp."

"Okay fine!" He dropped his sandwich onto his plate and crossed his arms over his chest. You scooched your chair in closer, finally ready to hear an explanation. "You better not tell anyone you found out from me or steak knives is gonna cut my dick off again."

"Again?" You gave him a concerned look.

"Don't try to change the subject, missy. The truth of the matter is that our resident honey badger might like you a lot more than he lets on. I am risking so much by telling you this."

"From my understanding you can't die, so how much are you really risking?"

"You don't live with him, smartass," he grumbled. Wade scratched the back of his neck, suddenly a lot more serious than you usually see him and he looked almost... apologetic. You straightened up when he hesitantly opened his mouth again. "I explained the different timelines, right? Logan isn't from our time line, I plucked from a different one and tricked him into helping me. The thing is, these timelines can be very similar to each other."

You understood it well, or as much as you could, from the first time Wade explained it to you. Time traveling, anchor beings, Paradox and Cassandra Nova all seemed too ridiculous to be true, but you knew Wade wouldn't lie about such a thing. Plus you know about mutants and Wade's regenerative powers. Of course crazier things existed.

"I'm picking up what you're putting down. What does this have to do with Logan's apprehension towards me?"

Wade sighed, running his hand over his face. "It's not apprehension, okay? Look, I noticed it too. The way that he acted like he might explode if you come too close. He knew you, and I mean knew you, personally— intimately, before and now you don't even recognize his face. I know that feels fucking horrible."

Wade stared down at his sandwich somberly like he was speaking from experience. You fell silent, ruminating on his words.

Intimately. You have never met anyone like Logan before, but he already knew you. There was nothing you could even compare this to. You slowly got up from your seat and patted Wade on the shoulder. Your mood was dampening at the new information.

"Uh, thanks man."

"This is why I didn't want to tell you. I don't blame you but you're all weird now," he groaned. "You're not a replacement. She could've been entirely different. She could've be Catholic."

He was expecting a smirk from you at the very least but got nothing. "That doesn't really help."

Wade watched you slump out of his apartment to head back to yours without another word. He could literally see the cloud of gloom forming over your head and he groaned dramatically.

"Canadians are supposed to be nice people. I should know! Leave it to the Australian to ruin that for us."

---*---

Logan could smell the difference in your mood around him. You were on edge, giving him sneaking side eyes when you thought he wasn't looking and nervously biting on your thumbnail. Something was bothering you, something pertaining to him, and you didn't know how to bring it up.

It would be hypocritical of him to drag out the issue with you, but he never played fair before.

"If you stare at me any harder bub, you're gonna put a hole in my head."

He offered to take you out to get dinner instead of staying in. It was nothing fancy, just a small Indian restaurant that he found on a whim, but he remembered you saying that it was one of your favorite ethnic foods to eat. The short walk back to home was just to kill more time to spend with you, but you were hardly saying anything.

You pinched your bottom lip between your two fingers, rolling it over slowly. "It's nothing. I'm just tired, that's all."

The dismissive answer did nothing for Logan. He gave you a hard stare that you didn't return. Instead you walked a few paces ahead of him, leaving him behind.

"Hey!" Logan called out to you, grabbing your arm. You reeled back, shaking him off and pursed your lips together. The sudden coldness wafting off of you made him panic internally. Did he say something he shouldn't have? Did you suddenly get tired of keeping things friendly. Was he reading you all wrong? All those questions burned the back of his throat but he rather ask the obvious one.

"I've seen you tired and this ain't it. What's the problem?"

Finally you returned his gaze with an cautionary look. "What really happened between us Logan? In the past, or a different timeline, or whatever the fuck. How much history is between us?"

The question knocked Logan over like a mack truck. This was not the type of conversation he wanted to have with you in the middle of the street with cars honking and passersby brushing past, but you were standing your ground. Logan ran a weary hand through his hair then rested it on his hip. If he wanted to make this work with you, he'd have to be honest with himself.

“Did Wilson run his mouth—“

“Forget about him. I’m asking you.”

He stared at you dead on, looking into your eyes that were uncertain of him. "You left me.”

You stiffened up, the statement making you falter.

"And I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. You gave me chance after chance to get my shit together and I didn't. I was breaking your heart and you didn't want to stick around to watch me crash."

Logan sat down on the nearest street bench. The headlights of oncoming traffic blinded his visage with a pure bright white before turning. He could hear your pleas from time's past, your dissapointed tone. He could hear the screams of his x-men, his family that he left behind.

"You visited me after they... after the humans killed the x-men. You saw the damage that was done and you hated me for it."

Logan felt the thud of you sitting on the other side of the bench. He didn't look at you, now taken with his memories, but you were no longer on the run. You wanted to hear his side that he never got to tell anyone.

"They were like family to you too. Ororo, Charles, Jean, Scott. You loved them, so when you found out that they were gone and I was still alive..." Logan's voice trailed off and his head hung low. "I was never a hero. Or a good guy. I was a selfish asshole who left when things got tough. I couldn't save my relationship with you, or save the people I owe my life to because the only thing I'm good at is destroying things. Then I come to this world and you givin' me this bright eyed, hopeful look and I couldn't handle it."

New York City has never been known as a quiet city but there was an eerie silence that ensued. It was like everybody was holding their breath, silently listening to Logan’s darkest confessions.

"I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. What I did before keeps me up at night, eats me from inside. But being around you again... shit, it reminds me that I didn't lose everything.”

A long beat of silence stretched after Logan's words. You stared into on coming traffic too, unable to form words. You held your arms together, the cool breeze of the night chilling your bones.

“Fuck,” you sighed, a wave a guilt washing over you. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

He shook his head. “You have the right to know.”

“I just made you spill your guts out on this public bench because I was worried that I was some freaky look a like for somebody that you used to know.” You put your head in your hands and groaned. “I can’t speak for past me because she isn’t me… but I am glad to have you here in this timeline, Logan. If it’s any consolation, it seems like we were always supposed to find each other.”

Logan couldn’t be more grateful for that fact. He never sought out to use you to fix some broken piece in him. It just happened that if given the chance, he would choose to love you every single time. Given all his mistakes, loving you was never a wrong choice.

You scooted closer to Logan’s still body, closing the distance until your thigh was pressed against his. You leaned over until your head was resting on his shoulder, soaking up his body heat. Neither of you said anything for a while. You didn’t need to.

Logan’s voice travelled through your body when he spoke again. It was gruff, making him clear his throat before starting over. “They had a nickname for me according to the TVA. They called me 'the Worst Logan'.”

“Do you believe that?” You peered up at him. It was that same look that made him want to run for the hills. You were disarming without even trying. He felt naked, unable to hide his beating heart that you held in your hands. After a thick swallow he was able to answer.

“Not as much. I’m better than before.”

You nodded, content with his response. “And you’ll keep on getting better. The TVA doesn’t know what they’re talking about anyway.”

You slipped your hand under Logan’s that rested on his thigh and he quickly squeezed it like a lifeline.

“I’m not subbing you in for anyone, bub. Plus, past you was never this sappy,” he joked.

“Oh fuck off,” you chuckled. “But thank you. For telling me everything.”

“You’re easy to talk to,” he shrugged.

You and Logan remained on the bench for a little while longer. The sleepless city continued to hum along, cars honking and people talking, and you sat there absorbing it all, hands still entwined together.

thank you so much for the request! sorry it took so long, I was trying to balance angst and good ending. Check out Not Just Neighbors ("the worst" Logan x Reader) for more context! I'd love to hear y'all thoughts xx!!

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