#but anyway heres this. here it is. i sure did write it. and now it exists. and now you can read it

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

part two

[heartsriki]

FOR YOUR EYES ONLY ⌇편지

pairing ᝰ ni-ki x fem!reader — featuring.. jungwon | word count: 2200+

⌇ … warnings & genre ↺ highschool au!, fluff, misunderstandings, sunshine x grumpy.

synopsis — After seeing your tiny crush nishimura riki sneak something into the confession box you just had to investigate.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊guys I swear ill make a non highschool au with riki soon... I couldn't help myself.. anyways its FEB!! can't wait to write valentines themed fics!

Finally.

It was your favorite month of the whole year.

You worked as a library assistant at your school—not because you particularly loved the job, but because it was better than joining a club.

Well… that’s what you told people.

In reality, you had a secret gig.

Tucked away in the most secluded part of the library was your confession box—a simple, unassuming container where students could slip in anonymous notes pouring out their feelings.

It started as something just for you. A place to vent when things got overwhelming. But then, he found out.

Jungwon.

You had no choice but to let him in on your little secret, and somehow, he became your best friend. Over time, word spread, and people started using the box themselves. What once held only your thoughts turned into a place where students whispered their love stories into folded pieces of paper.

Only Jungwon knew you were the one behind it.

And now, February had arrived—the holy grail of confessions. Sure, people submitted notes year-round, but around Valentine’s Day? The numbers spiked.

You weren’t going to lie. You loved it. Not just the thrill of reading them (and occasionally sharing the best ones with Jungwon, who never breathed a word), but the idea that you were helping people express what they were too afraid to say out loud.

So here you were, stationed at the front desk, pretending to browse book requests on the computer when a group of girls giggled their way to the back of the library.

Your eyes flickered toward them, amused. Definitely not because you were excited to read their confessions later. Nope. Definitely not.

Then, moments later—he walked in.

Riki.

The second you saw him, your instincts flared up. Suspicious.

Riki never stepped foot in the library. He barely did his assignments, let alone read for fun. So why was he here?

You watched, careful not to make it obvious. He glanced around, acting almost… nervous? And then, without a word, he disappeared into the back.

Seconds later, he reappeared from the other side—hands in his pockets, expression unreadable, walking out as if nothing had happened.

Your breath hitched.

No way.

Did Nishimura Riki just put a confession in your box?

Your hand scrambled for your phone. You had to tell someone.

You:

JUNGWONJUNGWONOMG

PLSPLSANSWERLOOKATURPHONE

Wonnie:

Ok what the hell

What is it?

You:

You are NEVER going to believe who just slid into the back of the library.

Wonnie:

Is it Jake again? Poor guy

Maybe Jay? Idk tell me

You:

Nishimura… Riki…

Wonnie:

… Fr?

Maybe he confessed to you?

You:

Right, totally.

Wonnie:

Think about it.

And you did think about it.

You and Riki had a… relationship. Not exactly a friendship, but not total strangers either.

You first met in detention.

It was your first time there, and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. So, naturally, you turned to the guy next to you—the one with his headphones on, slouched in his seat like he owned the place.

Curious, you tapped his shoulder.

He flinched, looking caught before turning to glare at you. “What?”

You blinked. “How did you sneak those in? Can I listen too?”

Before he could answer, you asked another question. “Wait, also—what are we supposed to do in here?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “What do we do in detention? You sit here. Now be quiet before—”

“Mr. Nishimura, sneaking electronics in again?” The teacher’s voice cut in, hand outstretched.

Riki groaned, slumping back in his seat before begrudgingly handing over his phone and headphones.

When the teacher walked away, he snapped his head back to you, eyes burning with betrayal.

You swore he glared at you for the rest of the day.

Ever since then, you tried to make it up to him—with snacks, lunch, even passing him worksheets to copy. Eventually, after weeks of bugging him, he forgave you.

Kind of.

Even now, he still acted so indifferent.

Whenever you waved at him in the hallway, he looked away. When you invited him to sit with you and your friends, he ignored you. Even when you walked beside him, talking about anything and everything—he barely responded.

At first, you assumed he was just bad with people. But then you saw him with his friends—laughing, joking, talking.

So why was he only like this with you?

Eventually, you gave up.

You distanced yourself, refusing to waste energy on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with you.

But then, every now and then, you’d catch him staring—or see him approach you, only to hesitate and walk away.

It was confusing. Frustrating. You told yourself you didn’t care anymore.

Until the school trip.

It had been late at night when you were sent to fetch supplies from the shed—a small, isolated building at the edge of the woods.

You weren’t scared, but walking alone with only a flashlight wasn’t exactly comforting.

By the time you found everything, thunder rumbled outside. Moments later, the skies opened up.

Heavy rain. Lightning. The kind of downpour that turned dirt trails into slippery nightmares.

Running back wasn’t an option.

So, hugging your knees to your chest, you sat in the shed—silent, alone, trying not to cry.

Minutes passed. Then—

The door burst open.

You jumped, heart nearly stopping—until your eyes locked with his.

Riki.

He stood there, soaked from head to toe, breathless, his curls sticking to his forehead.

Did he… run here?

He didn’t speak. Just stared for a moment, like he was checking if you were okay, before stepping inside and sitting next to you.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “You’re helpless, you know that?”

You blinked, then let out a soft, teary laugh. He was trying to act tough. But he was clearly worried.

Neither of you spoke after that. You just sat there, listening to the storm. Well, you spoke—rambling like you used to, and for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

By the time the rain cleared, something between you had shifted.

And now, months later, here you were—staring at an empty confession box, knowing Riki put something inside, yet not finding his name anywhere.

Jungwon’s voice pulled you back.

“I knew I’d find you here.” He smirked. “Anything good?”

You forced a laugh, trying to mask your disappointment. “Yeah, some interesting ones. Oh—Minji completely dropped her last crush and moved on to a new one. Isn’t that crazy?”

Jungwon squinted at you. “You’re looking for Riki’s, aren’t you?”

You groaned, immediately dropping your head onto the table. “I’m pitiful. Don’t look at me.”

Jungwon laughed, dragging a chair out and sitting across from you. “You’re not pitiful. Just mildly down bad.”

You groaned, keeping your forehead against the table. “But I know he put something in there. I saw him! I was so ready to read it, but it’s like—poof!—nothing!”

Jungwon tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. “You sure he actually put something in the box?”

You lifted your head slightly. “Of course, I literally watched him sneak in.”

“Then…” Jungwon grinned knowingly. “What if he took something out?”

That made you pause. You sat up straight, eyes wide. “Wait… What?”

“Think about it,” Jungwon continued. “If he put in a confession and realized he wasn’t ready, maybe he took it back.”

Your mind raced. That… actually made sense. But why would Riki take it back? And more importantly—who was he confessing to?

The thought made your stomach twist, and you weren’t sure why.

Jungwon smirked, clearly enjoying the sight of you struggling. “You could just ask him, you know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, right. ‘Hey, Riki! Weird question, but did you happen to steal a confession from my box?’”

“Why not?” Jungwon shrugged. “Or are you scared of the answer?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the words never came. Were you scared? The idea of Riki confessing to someone else made your chest feel tight in a way you weren’t ready to unpack.

Before you could respond, the student council room door creaked open again.

And there he was.

Riki stood in the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, his hair a little bit above his eyes which flickered between you and Jungwon before settling on you.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of you. “Welp. That’s my cue to leave.” He patted your shoulder before slipping past Riki, whispering a quick, “Good luck,” on his way out.

The door clicked shut. Silence.

You swallowed. “Um… Did you need a book or—”

“I didn’t take it back.”

Your breath hitched.

Riki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “The letter. I didn’t take it back.”

Your heart was pounding now. You tried to keep your voice steady. “What do you mean?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “I put it in there without a doubt, I think… someone else removed it. Maybe it was a sign not to confess to you.”

You.

Your throat went dry. “It was… for me?”

Riki let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. Obviously.”

You blinked. “Obviously? What do you mean obviously? You ignore me ninety percent of the time!”

He huffed, looking almost embarrassed. “I don’t ignore you.”

“You literally pretend not to hear me half the time!”

“Because I don’t know what to say!” Riki finally looked at you, frustration and something else—something softer—lingering in his expression. “You drive me crazy, you know that? You talk too much, you’re way too nosy, and you never leave things alone. And somehow, I—” He stopped, exhaling sharply. “I like you, okay?”

Your brain short-circuited.

Riki rolled his eyes at your stunned silence. “This is embarrassing.”

You snapped out of your trance. “Wait, wait. Back up. You like me?”

He groaned, turning toward the door. “Forget I said anything—”

You grabbed his sleeve before he could leave.

He froze.

Slowly, you grinned. “You like me.”

Riki’s ears were turning red. “Shut up.”

You laughed, warmth bubbling in your chest. You never thought you’d get anywhere with him, and yet—here he was, out of breath looking at you so fondly, confessing in the most Riki-like way possible.

February was definitely your favorite month of them all.

BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The moment Riki stepped into the library, he knew he was making a mistake.

This wasn’t his scene. He didn’t do books, didn’t do anything that required more effort than necessary. But here he was, standing in the one place he actively avoided, shoving his hands deeper into his hoodie pockets as his eyes flickered toward the back.

He could feel your gaze on him.

You were always watching him.

Not in a weird way—more like you were constantly trying to figure him out. Always with that curious glint in your eyes, like he was a puzzle you were determined to solve.

He hated it.

No, that wasn’t true. He hated that he liked it.

And now, as he made his way toward the confession box—the stupidest thing he’d ever been a part of—he was hoping you weren’t paying too much attention.

With one last glance around, he slipped to the back, pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and dropped it inside.

Then, without missing a beat, he walked out through the other side, playing it cool.

It took everything in him not to look back.

He could already picture the way your brain was short-circuiting, the way you were probably grabbing your phone to text Jungwon. You always told him everything, after all.

Riki swore under his breath as he left the library.

He wasn’t even sure why he did it.

Well.

That was a lie.

He knew why.

It was because of you.

Because you confused the hell out of him.

You were supposed to be annoying—loud, persistent, way too nosy for your own good. You were supposed to be someone he could easily brush off, like he did with everyone else.

But you weren’t.

Because no matter how many times he ignored your waves in the hallway, you still smiled at him. No matter how often he shut you out, you never stopped trying.

And then you stopped.

You finally gave up on him.

And for some reason, that made his chest feel too tight.

Ever since that night on the school trip, when he found you curled up alone in the shed, it had been harder and harder to act like he didn’t care.

That night, when he heard you were missing—it was like he could imagine you with red eyed, shoulders shaking—he couldn’t stop himself.

Didn’t even think.

He just ran.

Ran straight into the storm, through the rain, barely able to see a damn thing—but knowing exactly where he was going.

When he finally got there, when he saw you small and fragile under the dim light, something in him cracked.

He never wanted to see you like that again.

But he didn’t know how to tell you that.

He wasn’t good with words. He wasn’t good with feelings.

So he wrote it down instead.

It wasn’t a confession, not in the way you expected.

But it was something.

Something for your eyes only.

Something he thought you would have found by now.

So when he walked passed the student council room later that evening, seeing you and Jungwon hunched over the pile of notes, he knew immediately.

You hadn’t seen it.

Because if you had, you wouldn’t be looking for his name like he overheard.

And now, as both your heads snapped toward him, your eyes wide and startled—

Riki sighed, stepping forward.

…You took it, didn’t you? He thought looking straight at Jungwon.

Because if you didn’t find his letter in the box…

Then someone must have.

What was Jungwon playing at?

What happens next? Click (optional)

[moonstruckme]

hai lovie!!! im not sure of youve written something like this for emt!marauders yet but could you write something where they come home from work to reader lying on the floor on the hallway due to having low blood pressure and shed tried to go get something to eat or something but had started feeling faint and had to lie down? and then when they come up to reader she starts to cry because being unwell makes her anxious (im not fussed if you dont add that last part up to you <3). i had really low blood pressure the other day and bad to lie on the floor for a good two hours and it really stressed me out :< anyway thanks lovie i hope youre doing well !!!!

Thanks for requesting <3

cw: mention of dizziness, nausea, worries about being alone when unwell and also being unwell in general

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You’re half propped up with your elbow on a step when you hear the front door open. 

“Hello?” 

“Hello!” comes James’ chipper reply, followed by Sirius’ groan and the clunking of shoes as he no doubt kicks them off, beelining for the couch. After a moment of you not appearing to greet them, James asks, “Where are you?” 

“I’m—here.” You soften your voice when Sirius walks by the stairs, his step faltering as he locks eyes with you. 

His eyebrows bunch, concerned before he really knows why. “What’re you doing?” 

“I’m…” You shrug limply, trying on a helpless smile. Tears threaten to spill over from the way your eyes squish up. “I don’t feel right.” 

Sirius has only taken his first, slow step toward you, bemusement written across his features, before James and Remus are behind him at the base of the stairs. 

“Oh. Hi, angel.” James’ voice matches his expression, all gentleness, and worry hidden beneath counterfeit cheer. “Having a little lie down?” 

“Yeah,” you say. Sirius’ touch is a relief as he reaches you. He cups your face and feels your forehead, brows stitched together. You’re happy to be in capable hands. “I started to fall, so I just laid down here. I’m a bit dizzy.” 

There’s only so many of you that can fit on the stairs. James makes it to you next, crouching beside Sirius to take your hand in his and press his fingers to your pulse, so Remus is left peering over them both. He frowns, looking conflicted about his inability to help and worried in general. You try another smile for his sake; unfortunately, this time, the tears do spill. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Sirius says, no real chiding in his tone as he knuckles them from your cheeks. 

“Sorry.” You force yourself to breathe, but new ones come anyway. It’s a slow sort of cry, the result of a good long while feeling sorry for yourself. “I just, I felt sick, so I tried to go upstairs to the toilet, but then I started to faint and I didn’t think I could make it back down to my phone, and I didn’t know when you would be home, or if anyone would find me…” 

“We’re here now, though, sweetheart,” Remus stops you gently. “It all worked out alright. You’re okay.” 

“Yeah.” You wipe underneath your eyes. “I think my blood pressure just dropped all of a sudden or something, but I still feel weird. It was scary.” 

“I think you’re right,” James says. He runs his thumb over your wrist. “I mean, I’d like to think it’s just because we’re home and you’re pleased to see us, but your heart’s going pretty fast, m’love. How long ago did you lie down here?” 

“I don’t know,” you reply, sniffling, feeling silly. “I don’t have my phone. Less than an hour, I think.” 

Remus hums. “That’s still a long while.” 

Honestly, you feel better just having your boyfriends here with you. Partly because of the security, of course, that you know you won’t faint and hit your head with no one to help you, but also, perhaps, there’s a small part of you that enjoys their fussing. The concerned set of Sirius’ brow, the way Remus’ mouth puckers thoughtfully, how James keeps rubbing his thumb over your wrist like he can soothe your heart back into its regular rhythm. 

“Well, then.” Sirius pats your hip, rising from his crouch. “Not much point in figuring it all out here, is there? C’mon, pretty girl, that step has to be killing your side.” 

It’s true; you think the edge of the step probably leaves an indent in your waist after you let Sirius haul you up, supporting you down the stairs and over to the couch. 

“I don’t feel as dizzy as I was expecting,” you admit. “Maybe I was overreacting.” 

“You?” Sirius exclaims, feigning astoundment. 

“Better to be safe,” says Remus. He claims a spot next to you quickly, as though seizing his opportunity. It makes your lips tug. “I’m glad you were careful, love.” 

You lean your head on his shoulder in a silent plea for coddling; he appeases you, pressing his lips to your hair while Sirius pinches the skin of your forearm gently. You watch him with mild interest. 

“When was the last time you drank water?” he asks. 

“Um…” You think back. 

Sirius lets go of your skin and tuts. “Yeah, seems like it’s been long enough for you not to remember.” 

“On it,” James announces, coming back from the kitchen with a large glass of water. He passes it to you over the back of the couch, and it’s so full a tiny bit spills over the rim onto your wrist, making you shiver. “It’s more common than you’d think for dehydration to do that to you. Gotta be careful.” 

“Yes,” says Remus drily, though his arm comes around your shoulders. “Rather easily avoidable.” 

You shrink, mumbling, “Sorry,” into your glass. 

James awws and bends over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on your head, his good cheer restored, genuinely now. “We all forget sometimes, lovie.” 

“Don’t enable her,” Sirius tells him. He cradles your arm in his hand, stroking the skin he’d pinched as though in apology for his treatment of it. “Don’t listen to him. It’s a grave oversight and you must repent forever.” 

“Forever?” Your smile still feels weak, but you’re coming back to yourself some. “How will I do that?” 

“Mm,” Sirius takes to kissing your arm instead, mumbling with a sternness that borders upon silly, “start with filling your water bottle every day before leaving the house, and at least three times after that.” 

You go quiet, gaze sliding to Remus skeptically. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Is that…really how much I’m supposed to have?”

His other eyebrow lifts, too. “Yes.” 

“Every day?” 

“Yes.” Remus laughs, exasperated. “Yes, that’s the water intake your body needs.” 

“There’s no way everyone’s doing that.” 

“They’re not,” James agrees. “Instead, everyone is getting dizzy and calling us so we can go pick them up from halfway up the stairs.” 

You bring the glass back to your lips, muttering, “I didn’t call, you just found me.” 

James kisses your head again, fiercely. “And we always will, lucky girl.”

[jellyfishline]

Okay this is not my field of history and I don't want to claim expertise I don't have, but, I just strongly feel the need to say something here.

This is a gross, bigoted, horrible, disgusting thing to do, it is absolutely a step in the facist/authoritarianism playbook, and yes, the "end goal" for the people implementing this erasure is the eradication of LGBT folks from the public sphere.

But to anyone scared and despairing out there, there are a number of things which are significantly and importantly different between what's happening now in the USA and what happened in the 30s in Germany, and also a number of steps that will make it significantly harder for Trump's administration to maintain that kind of control.

1. Trump's administration is attempting to purge federal government documents of LGBT terms. They have no legal authority to purge anything that is not federal documents. They cannot touch state legislature or research outside of the CDC. They cannot prevent you from looking at statistics, documents, information that are not connected to the CDC. They cannot stop your from posting, sharing, viewing, discussing anything that was archived off the CDC before those pages were removed. They cannot stop you from looking at research conducted in other countries. They cannot stop you from writing, reading, sharing, discussing, following books, blogs, news sources, medical journals, or anything else that discusses LGBT terms.

2. LGBT issues are in the spotlight in large part because public support and knowledge of LGBT issues is at an all-time high. Yes there is a push back of disgusting, virulent bigotry, but broadly speaking, more people than ever before in US history do not care if you’re queer. We have openly transgender, openly gay, openly queer people in the US federal government, not to mention just, all over the place in public life. Queer folks may be a minority but we are not silent or invisible, and that is a very good thing. In 1933 in Germany queer topics were still taboo in many ways. There was not loud public support for children's media with queer characters in lead roles, or same-sex marriage, or protections for LGBT folks on the state (if, sadly, not always the federal) level. It isn’t just queer folks who don't want to be erased, there are many, many allies who have observed that society did not abruptly break down when same-sex marriage was federally recognized, that transgender people are not dangerous or worthy of ridicule, that these are not topics to be discussed in hushed tones and outside of children's attention. There is so much bigoted pushback towards letting trans kids access gender affirming healthcare because we have trans kids, who know they are trans! Whose parents and doctors will get them access to the healthcare they need! In a publicly visible, unashamed, openly-discussed way!

Tl;dr, Trump's administration is horrible and disgusting and fascist dictatorship is what he wants, but we are not there yet. We are not erased. We are not silenced. Existing, loudly and openly and joyfully, is a powerful act of resistance. Do not obey in advance. Reach out to the straight allies in your life and make sure they understand that this is happening and that you're scared, and continue to live loudly anyway.

I'm also going to research what steps can be taken to demand that those CDC pages be restored. Because despite what Trump's administration wants us to feel, we are not helpless.

Btw, this is how conservatives keep getting to claim that trans people are a new thing no one has ever heard, because our history and existences have continually been erased or obscured systematically through out history.

The most famous example was 92 years when the Nazis raided the library of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, the medical practice where the term transsexual was first coined and the first gender affirming surgery was performed in in 1931.

What did the Nazis do after raiding the library on May 6th, 1933? You may be familiar with these images

It is happening again.

[hellhunde]

This was an illustration requested on my patreon for $5! This was the illustration for December!

homunculushound on Patreon requested "Something About Condor and Crane". There's not a lot I can show without dipping into spoiler territory, so I decided to just go with their meeting!

Instead of a long winded explanation under the cut this time, I wrote a little scene to go with it! My prose isn't the best, but I thought that would likely be more fun than just hearing me talk about it! I'd honestly love to write more little scenes for these illustrations, but we'll see!

--------

Crane was still lost on what to do without her mother. The flock had only lost Goose a couple of days ago to wounds caused by that supposed King. Watching the life drain from her mother’s eyes, hearing her final words rasp out of her mouth—”Keep the colony safe”—it all weighed heavy in Crane’s mind. Crane had been trained and groomed to take Goose’s place since she was a kitten. But now that the time was finally here….

Crane wasn't a fighter. Not many in the Flock really were. While Goose had made the judgement to allow refugees fleeing the King’s conquest to join the Flock’s ranks, many were not battle hardened either. The majority were widowed mothers and fathers with kittens to raise, the elderly, and the already injured. Not much to be able to honor her mother’s dying wish.

The Flock were sitting ducks if she couldn't get her colony in a place to actually defend themselves. She wasn't going to roll over and let that barbarian wipe out Goose's Flock—Crane’s flock—for his own gain. 

“Mother Crane?” Crane’s ear twitched at being called leader’s title. She still was not used to being called it. It was only the original Flock members that used the Mother honorific anyway. She sensed it often made the refugees too uncomfortable. She tilted her head around to see Blackbird, her medic. 

“Yes?” Crane answered.

“Uh,” Blackbird stammered out. “That cat is awake.”

Crane's ears perked. After her mother's passing, she’d taken a walk to clear her head. How convenient then had she instead found the broken body of a muscular cat in a ditch. She thought he had been a corpse, until she saw his body twitch and his eyes train on her. She sent for the medics to treat him only as insurance. She hadn't expected him to actually live. 

“Oh, good.” Crane wrapped her hairless tail around her paws. “What has he said?”

“Nothing,” Blackbird said. “Nothing at all. He just…stares. I think he might be incompetent.”

“Incompetent or not, he must be a strong soul to survive with those terrible wounds,” she said. “And the Flock needs more of those. Take me to him, maybe I can get him to talk.”

Blackbird scoffed. “Don't see what you could do that we haven't already tried.

“You should never doubt the feminine wiles, Blackbird.”

---

Blackbird was right about one thing. This cat sure did like to stare.

His head sat flat with the floor, paws on either side sheltering his muzzle. Without all the blood coating his body, Crane could more easily see the other scars that littered his huge body. This wasn’t his first tussle clearly. Crane winced as she saw the red bandages on the underside of his belly and neck. 

She spared a glance at Blackbird before she walked towards him. His large amber eyes stayed glued on her. In the morning light they showed almost red. 

“Hello, there,” Crane said soothingly, her mother had taught her. He blinked. “I’m Crane and this is the Flock’s base. Or at least a makeshift base. Our old home got ransacked and destroyed by the King’s army.”

The tom blinked again. Crane shot a look over her shoulder at Blackbird. He shrugged. 

“What's your name?” She tried instead, turning back to the tom.

Still no response. In fact, no indication he had understood her at all. Just those same large red eyes looking at her. They reminded Crane of a kitten’s: innocent, curious, scared. What a ridiculous thought. This tom must’ve been several months her senior. 

“See, Mother Crane?” Blackbird called from the entrance. “Incompetent. Can’t understand a word you say to him. We might as well throw him with kittens for all the good he would do in a fighting force.”

Crane sighed. She was about to open her mouth to sadly agree when the tom lifted his head. 

“...mother?” He said, in a raspy voice. His eyes were still blown out wide and staring at her. 

“He can talk—” Blackbird said, trotting inside to stand beside Crane. “Well, why didn’t you speak up before?”

At Blackbird’s scolding, the tom put his head down again. Crane smiled for a moment, thinking it looked like a turtle retreating into its shell with all the neck fluff he had.

Blackbird gave an aggravated huff. Crame ran her tail down his back. 

“Let me speak with him alone,” she said. “Maybe he’ll respond better to me. I’ll report anything he says back to you, okay?”

Blackbird hesitated. He eyed the tom once more before nodding. He leaped back out through the entrance, leaving Crane alone with the strange cat. Crane watched his eyes follow Blackbird out of the den, unblinking.

“Now,” she said, sitting down in front of him and getting comfortable. “how about you tell me your name?”

He took several moments to answer. Crane was beginning to worry he had gone mute again when his mouth opened.

“Tiny,” he said. Crane couldn't help but huff a laugh. She was glad to see whoever his mother was clearly had a sense of humor. Tiny’s ears perked at the sound of it. 

“Well, Tiny,” Crane said, laughter still in her voice. “This is my colony, The Flock. We’re the ones who saved you. Can I ask what happened?”

“Got ambushed.” Crane watched Tiny’s claws sheath and unsheath. 

“Now why would they do that?”

“I killed some of them.” The frankness at which he said the words sent a shiver through Crane. That had not been what she expected to come out of Tiny’s mouth. He pouted. “It's not fair to get ganged up on though. It’s mean!”

Something is seriously wrong with this cat, Crane thought. She considered for a moment speaking with Blackbird and maybe killing Tiny themselves. Something painless. That's what Goose would've done. With so many mothers and kittens joining the colony, he might be more of a liability than anything. Though, Goose wouldn't have dragged a shambled almost-corpse back to their base during this desperate time in the first place. 

But something kept her from making that call. For one, Blackbird and the other medics had used so many resources on helping this cat, it would be a waste to just kill him now. And for two… the way he looked at her. While before he had been staring at her non-stop, now he seemed to find anywhere else but her face much more interesting. He spared shy glances at her, seeming to gauge her reaction. 

She’d done the same with Goose several times. Whenever she’d come back with prey after a long day for them to share. Whenever she made an order around the colony that her mother had taught her. Whenever she’d brought Scout back to her mother, claiming him as her mate.

Approval. 

But Goose wasn't around anymore. Crane didn't need to get approval from anyone.

She fixed Tiny with a warm smile, a purr escaping her throat. “That isn't fair. We’re in that same situation now.”

“Really?” Tiny said, genuinely surprised. 

“Yes,” Crane continued. “See, the King’s Army is bullying us small colony cats, it's just not fair. We need as many cats in our corner to hold them back. You seem like a strong fighter, you can join us if you’d like.”

“I can?” Tiny said excitedly. He pushed himself up, before wincing at the pain of his injuries. “I’ve never been in a colony before!”

“Yup. All you have to do is change your name to a bird. That's all.”

Tiny thought for a moment, his lips pursed like an overactive kitten being asked some history fact. While his demeanor was definitely odd, Crane was becoming more charmed by it as the moments passed. Tiny was handsome. His build was much different than Scout’s, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Not a bad thing at all. She felt the burning shame of what her mother would think, but Goose didn’t have a say over her life anymore. Lost it the moment life had faded from her eyes.

“That cat called you mother,” Tiny said, pointing with his muzzle towards the entrance. “A mother is the one that names kittens, so you should name me!”

“Oh, I’m not—” she began before cutting herself off. She didn't think it was worth it to explain to this cat that ‘mother’ was just the Flock leader’s honorific. She wasn't sure he would be fully able to understand it anyway. “...Whatever, sure. I’ll name you. Hmmm, how about Condor? We found you in a bloody heap of yourself afterall.”

At that Tiny—Condor—finally cracked a smile, all teeth. Crane wasn't scared by the sight of them. 

“I love it!” Condor said.

[carlosainzgf]

thangyu x fem reader 🙈?

like thanos being into namgyu's gf so he ends up fucking them both or something

one thing led to another

thanos x fem!reader (x nam gyu) (smut)

warning: cheating. (i know the req said “fucking them both” but i just can’t find nam gyu attractive so i couldn’t write smut with him in it so he gets cheated on. sorry)

the famous thanos went to a club. club petangon. he was gonna ask the club promoter to have an event in the club. as soon as he walked in fans went up to him, asking for pictures. he sat down at a booth as fans kept throwing themselves at him and he was being his normal cocky self. but then a specific guy caught his attention. well, not really. the girl that was with the guy caught his attention.

the guy was talking to someone as the girl waited for him, his arm thrown over her shoulder.

thanos looked at the guys name tag- nam gyu. the promoter he was supposed the meet with. but thanos’ attention wasn’t on him. he was looking at her. the girl that was probably nam gyu’s girl. she looked bored as she waited for him, looking around, her eyes met thanos’. he raised his hand and gave her a small wave, as if they already knew each other, she copied the act with a small smile. her movement caught nam gyu’s attention.

his eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. he turned to where you were looking, seeing thanos waving back to you. his lips formed into a straight line. he clearly wasn't happy about it. nam gyu pulled away from the conversation and walked over to thanos, still holding you but tighter than before, as if he was showing you were his. not that it mattered to thanos.

once nam gyu came over to him, a smirk spread over his cheeks. this was fun. he saw how tight nam gyu held you now. he was clearly irritated. how nam gyu was "claiming you" was kinda pathetic to thanos.

“hey you’re thanos, right?” you asked before either of them could talk.

his smirk grew wider when you spoke before nam gyu could. he looked at you, chuckling as he heard your question. he nodded as he spoke “yes, yes, I am. and who are you?"

he looked between you and nam gyu, his eyes lingering at you. “she’s my girl. y/n.” nam gyu said before you could answer. he didn’t even turn his gaze away from you when nam gyu talked. seeing how nam gyu answered for you made him chuckle. this was getting funnier.

"y/n? cute name. a cute name for such a cute girl" he stated. you thanked him before sitting down, nam gyu sitting down with you. thanos got to talking about having an event here and how it would be good for both the clubs and his name. even tho he was talking to his eyes were mostly on you, not nam gyu’s.

they exchanged numbers, to talk about the details. nam gyu didn’t like thanos, not when he had eyes for his girl but he was right. it would be good pr. as you three sat, nam gyu’s phone rang and he got up saying he would be back.

as soon as he left thanos pulled you close to him and threw his arm around you. legs touching, faces closer than necessary.

“so…how did you end up with a guy like him? hm?” he asked.

“i came here a lot and we eventually met and one thing led to another.”

"one thing led to another, huh? . interesting" he spoke trough a grin. “he doesn't seem like your type. you seem too good for him" he kept a close eye on nam gyu as you two talked, seeing how more and more angry he was getting.

“he’s not. but we aren’t serious anyway.”

he pulled you even closer, still looking at nam gyu from the corner of his eye,

"not serious? and yet he's getting jealous, and claiming you as his. you sure you two arent serious?"

“to me we aren’t.” you answer teasingly.

being the straightforward man he is he said “and if I were to ask you out? would you accept my offer? since you aren't serious with nam gyu"

a smile crept up on your face, “i’ll think about it.” he liked how you were playing with him. “yeah? make sure you let me know when you decide. i'll be waiting, pretty girl." with that he gave you his number

you sure was going to give him a call.

𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯

it was late at night, nam gyu had called you over but he had to leave because of some trouble at the club so you were left alone in his apartment. sitting and scrolling through your phone, when boredom hit you. and then you remembered thanos. what’s the harm of giving him a call, right?

you waited a couple seconds for him to answer the phone.

“hi. who’s this?” god he had an amazing voice.

“im the girl from the club. y/n. remember me?”

“how could i forget, beautiful. so what do i owe the pleasure?” god that voice.

“im a little bored…nam gyu stood me up. im at his apartment right now and he won’t be back a while” you said whining, “…wanna have a tour?”

𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯𓂃𓍯

having a tour turned into having shared glasses of wine that to lingering touches. one thing led to another. you were soon on his lap, kissing lazily and messily. his hands were on your hips guiding you to grind on his bulge.

“gonna let me fuck you? hm?” he let out between kisses.

“please…need it.” you said as you played with his hair.

“why’s that, baby? doesn’t nam su fuck you good enough? i knew you were too good for him. ‘m gonna fuck you so good, you won’t even remember his name.”

he picked you up and walked towards the bedroom. nam gyu’s bedroom. he laid you down onto the bed gently. nam gyu’s bed. he kissed you with such passion that it made you think you were his girl not nam gyu’s.

he slowly undressed you. kissed down your body, paying extra attention to your breasts.

catching your nipple between his teeth, biting slightly but licking and kissing it away afterwards to soothe the pain away. moving down your body, he kissed your belly, thighs and rubbed his lips over your slit. you grew impatient at his teasing so you gripped his purple hair signaling him to get to work.

he sloppily made out with your pussy, like he was devouring a full course meal after not eating for days. his face was covered with your wetness and dripping with his spit. the mix of wetness ran down thighs he licked it back up, not wanting to waste a drop. he let his teeth graze over the bundle of nerves.

his hands kept your legs open and as his tongue focused on your clit. your back arched from the bed and you bit down harshly on your lip, containing your moans as you came on his tongue.

he licked up everything you gave him, guiding you through your high until your legs shook. as you came down from your high, he lifted his head, lips and chin soaked with your juices. eyes dazed and full of lust. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him up into a steamy kiss that had you tasting yourself.

he played with your sensitive pussy, as it was just devoured by him, as you kissed. you tried to pull away because the sensation was just too much. breathless, you tried to talk but couldn’t say anything.

“oh, baby…can’t talk? was my tongue too good? wait till i have my cock in you, baby.” god he was so cocky. and you loved it.

“i need you, thanos. fuck me.” your eyes met his lust filled ones as you spoke. he was quick to undress and get on top of you again.

slowly, he lined his very hard and leaking cock with your entrance and pressed inside, a groan slipping from his lips as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling you as he filled you up, inch by inch.

“fuuuck- i can barely put the tip in, baby. he had you for himself for so long and couldn’t even stretch you out. such a shame. a beautiful girl like you deserves good dick.”

the stretch of his dick made you see stars. your eyes rolled back as your pussy practically sucked him in. when he finally bottomed out you were out of breath. your legs pulled him just a little closer, the ache beginning to turn into something pleasant. his hips eased back before rocking forward again. oh, fuck, he was so big you swore you could feel his cock twitch in your belly. it felt like you were going to snap in half.

your nails lightly dug into his shoulders as he started to move, his thrusts slow but rough. he gripped your waist tightly, holding you as he used her body, fucking her with determination. you screamed his name, your nails digging into him enough to leave marka. he hissed in pleasure at the slight pain, his eyes falling closed in bliss. 

the headboard began to slam against the wall, your moans crescendoing and his groans filling the room. sorry nam gyu’s neighbors…

“imagine if he walked in right now? seeing ‘his girl’ screaming another mans name. in his very own bed.” you couldn’t really grasp on what he was saying, your brain too foggy to understand due to pleasure.

“don’t care. just keep fucking me- feels so good!” your moans and yells covered the sound of nam gyu coming into the apartment. thanos may or may not have heard someone coming in but…

you were close to coming and by the way thanos was throbbing inside you signaled you he was close too. you spasmed around his length with a screamish moan as you came, not hearing the door opening. thanos pumped you full of his cum. his cum and your juices seeped out of you as thanos breathed out at your neck with his body flush against yours, naked bodies intervened. he held you as you both calmed down when you were rudely interrupted by nam gyu’s yelling.

“WHAT THE FUCK-“

[pseudonymousposting]

Just use the word from before. You don't really need to worry about having a different word for everything unless the difference serves a purpose.

If your story is first person or primarily follows a specific POV or is told by a specific narrator, wouldn't it make sense that the storyteller is not a walking dictionary?

When people speak, they tend to have patterns anyway, and you don't notice them unless you're looking for it. I can refer to Hbomberguy's bit in his plagiarism video where he mentions that an AI asked to write a segment in his style uses the words, "buckle up." This points to how he uses that phrase often.

He jokes that this is because he's bad at writing. I beg to differ. The consistent use is really fucking good, actually, and I hope he doesn't correct for it in the future.

The pattern, when used specifically by him, has certain implications that will prompt a fan of his videos to notice when he is making a salient point integral to the theme he is conveying throughout the entire video. You also know that the example he is about to use is probably pretty goddamn funny, or notable, or egregious. Maybe you noticed that before. Maybe. If you've watched all of his videos, like twice each, at least.

If you're a fan of Dimension 20, it's quite likely you know all the words Brennan Lee Mulligan uses ALL the time.

Rad

INcredible

Hell yeah

All are little communicators from him as a DM. They're used so often, even casual watchers meme about it. Also Matt Mercer saying "how do you want to do this." Also make note, if Brennan Lee Mulligan starts monologuing with a question, brace yourself.

The use of these common, consistent, repetitive phrases actually communicates more. It would be ridiculous if Brennan Lee Mulligan got shy about using the same term and clumsily said "inferno affirmative," or something. Unless he was purposely doing it as a clunky bit just for laughs, and even then, doing it unprompted would just get a blank stare at this point. The repetition has a benefit, not a deficit.

Your peerless vocabulary is not the most important component of your craft. Your story is. Care less about finding a million different words to say the same thing, and focus more on saying what you need to say. Story good, not word good.

When people read a story, they might say "the plot was well constructed." Or, "the suspense kept me on my seat." Or, "I laughed so hard."

You know what they won't say? "There's was a nice diversity of words there. The writer did a good job of making sure they didn't use a word twice on a given page." I'd argue that if that's what a reader notices, the writer failed to craft a good story.

Complimenting a person on their extensive vocabulary is more a thing an adult does for a 'gifted' child. It's better to write an excellent narrative at a 3rd grade reading level than to write a bad story at a collegiate level.

Hell, it's better to write a good story at a 3rd grade level than it is to even write an amazing story at a collegiate level. You're communicating. Make sure you are doing so effectively first and foremost. Everything else is just fluff.

This falls in line with the thing where people will try to cap off quotes with unnecessary modifiers where "said" does just fine and is almost invisible. Y'know, the ol' "'snape!' Slughorn ejaculated." Why say many words when few words do trick, eh?

Not to say finding the right synonym isn't useful. Sometimes, a synonym carries specific implications or a slightly different meaning more suited to that particular use case. In this case, that synonym might actually be a better fit to serve your purpose.

Alternatively, it's possible the character could be more likely to use that word over another for any particular reason. It can speak to who they are in a way that can help you avoid a little exposition here and there. Hell, using outdated terms might do the same.

For example, a now deceased man who was an instructor before I flunked out of college, who was nearly 90 years old. I think he sometimes used stories from his career to try and provide a point without giving answers.

He started one such story with "there was this guy I worked with a long time ago. He was uh ambidextrous, yknow what I mean? Uhh, he was a switch-hitter or a uhh..a bisexual..."

I'm not gonna lie, I was fucking awestruck at the term "switch-hitter," referencing bisexuality. That term instantly made me a patriot for about two weeks. I'd never heard anything more apple-pie, bald eagle with a single tear, and inside the tear, you can see the twin towers, Ole Glory waving proudly in the background with fireworks bursting over the top motherfuckin AMERICA than "switch-hitter" meaning "bisexual" holy shit.

Anyway, shortening things, I flunked out, met my abuser, and fled town because I just couldn't live in the same town as them anymore. He called to check on me.

He told me he keyed in that something was wrong and felt the need to check in. He believed my story. He said a lot that helped me with my recovery.

Part of my story involved the fact that I'm trans, as queer relationship dynamics were, like, central to the abuse. Interestingly, unlike many people in their 40s, 50s, and 60s, this man pushing his 90s understood every single damn word of what I was saying.

I bring up this story because of the synonyms he uses and how we can think about their use in context. My mind trails back to the term "switch hitter," a 1960s slang term for bisexual used right after "Ambidextrous," an earlier term. Of course, the man immediately understood all this queer mumbo-jumbo I was saying and didn't flinch even a little about my being trans.

However, its use from a 90-year-old right after "ambidextrous" tells an entirely different story. It drops a hint that this guy may have been, at the very least, accepting of people who were involved in the gay rights movement during the time.

Desperately seeking a synonym for "bisexual" might yield you to terms which are today potentially offensive or harmful, but before the 1970s were descriptors that bisexuals would sometimes use to describe themselves. So, depending on who uses that term, it could be harmful, or it could be someone who fought against that harm long before that term ever had potential negative implications.

Also, note how many times I just said, "bisexual?" Did it feel repetitive? Probably not.

If the use of the synonym serves no purpose other than feeling like you need to use a different word, consider, "Why am I really looking for a synonym, here?" If it doesn't serve a specific purpose, then feel free to just use whatever word makes sense. If it matters for one reason or another, use that. Just use what works. This ain't a vocabulary test. You don't need to impress your middle school English teacher anymore. You're free.

[servndipityz]

namgyu with alternative reader? perchance.. smut🫶🫶😁

a/n ── i'm so nervous about this one! i hope i didn't do a terrible job on portraying alt culture (i know nothing about it). i kinda tried to make it not super specific so anyone can feel identified. again, sorry if it's lowkey bad. it's also my first time writing smut, believe it or not, but i've had years of experience reading it so i don't think it's that bad. enjoy :)

STRIPPED

warnings ── smut, +18 MDNI!!! porn w plot. drug usage, sex under the influence, sex in a club, fingering, orgasm denial, degradation, light choking, kinda brat taming? p in v, unprotected sex, creampie.

word count ── 4.6k

he'd ended up there. of course, he'd ended up there. only someone as unlucky as him could wind up at some fucking goth party. or punk. or… whatever. he didn't really care about the whole thing—the dramatic makeup, the dyed hair, the incredibly loud music blaring through the club. none of it.

nam-gyu had envisioned a chill night on his free day, but no. of course, his co-worker had to get sick. of course, nam-gyu owed him money for the pills he'd given him last week. of course, he had to cover for him that night.

and, of course, it was alternative night at club pentagon. usually, his co-worker handled these kinds of nights—special events, themed parties, all that.

what did nam-gyu know about alternative culture anyway? he wondered the same thing as he weaved through the crowd, making sure everyone was having a good time, keeping an eye on bar sales.

so far, he'd been stepped on twice—not too bad, except when it came from one of those platform boots everyone seemed to be wearing. those hurt like hell. but at least the night was going smoothly. for now.

so good, in fact, that nam-gyu figured it was time for a drink. he'd been working for hours, making sure this party ran smoothly. he owed that co-worker a lot of drug money, and this was the only way to settle it. it’s not like he’d ever do this out of the kindness of his heart.

he made his way to the nearest counter, resting his elbows on the cool marble as he waited for someone to take his order. he couldn't help but wonder how anyone could actually dance to this loud-ass english music that sounded more like screaming. he'd take the regular techno dj any day.

meanwhile, you finished pouring a vodka red bull and handed it off to yet another customer. that's when you noticed him.

he stood out—not in a good way.

hunched over the counter, inspecting it like he might find some cocaine stuck in it (which, honestly, he probably would if he looked hard enough), looking like a wet rat. his clothes gave him away. who even let him in like that? plain black shirt, black jeans, a couple of rings.

he looked up as you approached.

his first thought was that your leather top made your tits poke out. his second was that, without all that emo makeup, you'd actually be pretty cute.

his third was what the highest-alcohol-content drink he could order was.

he opened his mouth to ask, eyes flicking to the bottles behind you—

but you spoke first.

"you're ruining the vibe, man."

he frowned, caught off guard.

you just raised an eyebrow, speaking over the loud music. "i said, you're ruining the vibe."

"i'm not doing anything," he scoffed, annoyed. he just wanted to order his damn drink. last thing he needed was some lecture.

"exactly," you said. "you don't belong here. what are you even doing?"

not like you actually cared. you were here to do your job, bartend, make money, go home. but this guy—standing there, stiff shoulders, sharp jawline, judging everything and everyone, probably without even realizing it—looking at you like that, eyes dragging over you like you were some kind of curiosity—

yeah. he rubbed you the wrong way.

being alternative, you already got judged enough. the last thing you needed was someone doing it at an alternative party.

he frowned even further. "i'm here to work. not that it's any of your business."

that caught you off guard for a second. "you work here?" your head tilted, curiosity slipping into your tone. you leaned over the counter, the neckline of your top shifting just a little lower. who knew—if this guy was someone important, you had to use all your charms. especially after being so rude. "i've never seen you around, and i always bartender at these kinds of parties."

his gaze flickered down your cleavage before snapping back to your eyes. but you saw it. the way his jaw clenched, the way he suddenly looked more annoyed than before—like he was mad at himself for looking.

"i'm not thrilled either," he mumbled, clearly uninterested in conversation. "just covering for a friend. now, could you actually do your job and get me something to drink?"

you bristled at his tone, raising a brow as you turned to the shelves of bottles. "jeez, someone's grumpy. what can i get you?"

in reality, nam-gyu wasn't grumpy. well, he was, but that was just how he was. it was just... for some reason, you made him nervous. the girls he usually dealt with at clubs were boring bitches trying to get a VIP card or whatever drugs he had in his pocket.

you were the opposite. rude. annoying. and he didn’t like that. but for some reason, it made his blood rush somewhere else, clouding his brain.

"just give me a shot," he said after a pause. "something strong."

you turned your head slightly, a smile playing on your lips—the kind that sent a shiver down his spine. you walked back to the counter, reaching for a bottle hidden underneath.

"drinking on the job?" you asked while pouring the liquid into a shot glass, then casually grabbing a second one.

nam-gyu let out a short, amused huff. if drinking was the worst thing he’d done on the job, he’d be in a much better place. but he watched curiously as you poured the second shot, his eyes flicking up through his lashes, brow slightly raised.

"what?" you asked playfully. "if you’re doing it, so can i."

you finally set the bottle back and raised your glass. he mirrored you, his eyes never leaving yours. there was something in his expression—almost a smile. you entertained him.

"cheers," you said, clinking your glass against his before downing the shot in one go. he followed suit, setting the glass back on the counter, suppressing a grimace at the sharp burn of alcohol.

“so,” you said, clearing your throat slightly after the shot. “who’s the friend you’re covering for?”

nam-gyu said the name, and your eyes widened.

“that junkie, huh?” you smirked. he chuckled. “yeah, i know him. he’s a little more talkative than you, though.”

nam-gyu narrowed his eyes. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing. it’s okay to be shy.” your voice was innocent, teasing, calculated. you'd decided that you'd had enough, that you might as well have some fun. “anyway, my shift’s almost over. wanna get out of here?”

“i’m not shy.” he sounded offended, then glanced away, considering your offer. “and i told you, i’m working.”

you huffed. “fine. just needed someone to smoke this with." you reached into your back pocket and pulled out a tiny zip-lock bag filled with greens. "guess i'll have to find somebody else."

now that caught his attention. maybe almost as much as your exposed skin did. suddenly, he was interested. but also suspicious.

“what do you have?” he asked, leaning slightly over the counter, his voice lower, more serious.

“your junkie friend gave it to me for a gig i did. said it’s good shit.” you shrugged, playing it cool, acting uninterested—like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. and he took the bait.

“why would you wanna share it with me?” he still sounded wary, but there was something else in his tone now. curiosity. maybe even something close to interest.

you groaned dramatically. “look, i’m heading to the staff room. you coming or not?” you said, already turning away, signaling to your co-worker that your shift was over.

now, nam-gyu didn’t need weed. not exactly. he could probably find ten of those zip-lock bags hidden in his place, forgotten in favor of other, harder drugs. but he also wasn’t the kind of guy to say no to free drugs.

especially not from such a petty girl.

you grinned to yourself as you felt him rush to walk behind you, trailing after you through the club like he didn’t know the way like the back of his hand.

as you reached the hallway leading to the staff room, nam-gyu couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on your half-ripped fishnets, the way they framed your legs under that short black skirt. was he here for the weed or for you? he wasn’t really sure, and he didn’t care much.

you finally reached the door, slipping past a few couples too caught up in each other to notice, and he shut it behind him. the staff room was small, dingy, and reeked of bleach and cigarette smoke, but you still sank onto the worn-out sofa next to the table like it was the most comfortable place in the world.

you leaned back, stretching your legs out just enough for your skirt to ride up slightly. not too much—just enough to make him notice. and he did.

nam-gyu stood near the door for a second, like he was reconsidering this, before scoffing to himself and dropping onto the couch beside you. he was close, not touching, but enough that the warmth of him was noticeable. enough that when he exhaled, you could feel the faintest brush of his breath against your shoulder.

"roll it," he said, nodding at the bag in your hand.

you raised an eyebrow. "you're really bad at asking nicely, huh?"

he just looked at you, serious. "you’re really bad at shutting up."

that made you laugh. he was watching you now—really watching you—as you pulled out the papers, fingers working effortlessly, licking the edge just to see his reaction. you weren’t disappointed. his jaw flexed again, his eyes dark, tracking your every move like he was trying to pretend he didn’t care. like he wasn’t already leaning back, manspreading, trying to act like he had the upper hand here.

cute.

you tucked the blunt between your lips, lighting it, taking a slow drag before passing it to him.

nam-gyu hesitated, just for a split second, then took it, bringing it to his mouth. his fingers brushed yours in the handoff, and it was stupid how that tiny touch sent something sharp down your spine. or maybe it was just the way he inhaled, head tilting back, exposing the sharp line of his throat as he exhaled, smoke curling lazily from his lips.

you licked yours.

the weed hit, slow and warm. the music outside was muffled, the sounds of the party fading into the background, leaving only this—dim lighting, the scent of smoke and alcohol and something else, something charged.

"you always do this?" nam-gyu asked after a beat, voice lower, lazier. "lure random guys into the staff room for a smoke?"

you smirked, tilting your head. "only the rude ones."

he huffed, shaking his head, but you saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile. he passed the blunt back, his fingers lingering just a second longer this time. you let them.

the room felt smaller. warmer.

"you always this uptight?" you asked, taking another slow hit. "or just with me?"

nam-gyu let his head roll against the back of the couch, watching you through heavy-lidded eyes. "you always this annoying? or just with me?"

you exhaled smoke, letting it curl between you. "you like it."

he didn’t answer. but he also didn’t look away.

you were both leaning back now, legs almost brushing, breaths slow and measured like you were both pretending not to notice the heat building between you.

nam-gyu wet his lips, head still resting against the couch, eyes flicking to your mouth before he caught himself and looked away. like it was a habit. like he was trying so fucking hard not to slip.

you took one last hit before stubbing out the blunt in the ashtray beside you. then, shifting slightly, you turned toward him, letting your knee press against his thigh. deliberate. slow. testing.

"you're staring," you murmured.

he scoffed, but it came out weaker than he probably meant. his hands clenched into fists on his thighs like he was keeping himself still on purpose.

"you’re high," he muttered, looking away.

"so are you." you tilted your head, voice dropping, playing with the edge of your ripped fishnets like you weren’t watching the way his gaze followed the movement of your fingers. "and what, does that mean i can’t see the way you’ve been looking at me all night?"

nam-gyu exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "i haven’t been—"

"you have," you cut in smoothly, shifting closer, feeling the warmth of his body now, solid and tense. "you’re mad about it. i can tell."

his jaw clenched.

"tell me," you purred. "are you mad because you don’t like it? or mad because you do?"

his fingers twitched on his thigh. his breathing was heavier, controlled, like he was still fighting it. fighting you.

so you leaned in, lips just close enough to ghost over his ear. "it’s okay," you whispered. "you can touch me."

and that was it.

nam-gyu moved so fast you barely had time to smirk before he grabbed you by the back of the neck, his lips crashing into yours, hot and desperate, all teeth and pent-up frustration. his other hand found your waist, yanking you onto his lap, and fuck—he wasn’t holding back anymore.

he was done fighting it.

and so were you.

his lips were all heat, all pressure—nothing hesitant, nothing soft. you barely had a second to adjust before his teeth caught your bottom lip, his fingers gripping the nape of your neck like he wanted to own you. his other hand, firm on your waist, yanked you flush against him, and fuck—he was hard.

not that he acknowledged it. not that he’d ever admit that you’d done this to him.

your knees bracketed his hips as you settled onto his lap, rolling your hips down just enough to feel him. his grip tightened, nails digging into the meat of your waist. he hissed against your mouth—half warning, half surrender.

“you don’t play fair,” he muttered, lips grazing your jaw now, teeth scraping skin, testing.

your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt. “neither do you.”

his hands dropped—one to your thigh, sliding under your skirt, fisting in the torn mesh of your fishnets. the other traced the curve of your ass before shoving you down against him again, this time deliberate, a slow grind that made both of you exhale sharp.

his breath was uneven, warm against your throat. “you think i haven’t noticed?” his fingers curled, gripping tight enough to bruise. “the way you’ve been—” a sharp pull at the fishnets, a rip, cool air hitting skin—“fucking teasing me?”

you laughed, half-gasping when his tongue flicked against the pulse at your neck.

his fingers dipped, pressing against the damp heat of your panties, no patience, no hesitation. his other hand was now tangled in your hair, keeping you locked right where he wanted—breath hitching as he rubbed slow, teasing.

then his hand moved, fingers slipping beneath the fabric, warm against your skin, sliding between your thighs. the first touch was barely there, just a single fingertip running along your slit, slow, teasing.

you squirmed, but he didn’t let you go. “look at you,” he murmured, mocking, the pad of his finger dragging over your cunt, pressing just enough to make you shudder. “all that attitude, but you’re already—” he exhaled sharply, felt it before he even had to say it—so fucking wet.

"fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to you, his forehead resting against yours for a second like he was trying to collect himself. but his fingers were still moving, sliding along the slickness of you, testing, exploring, spreading it just enough to make you squirm.

"yeah?" you murmured, voice breathy, teasing. "you like that?"

his only response was a low, quiet curse under his breath before he pressed his fingers in deeper, the tips just barely pushing inside before pulling back, slow and torturous. he was watching you now, eyes dark and half-lidded.

and then, without warning, he slid one finger in, slow but firm, curling just enough to make your breath catch. your nails dug into his shoulders, and his other hand tightened on your hip, holding you steady.

"fuck," you whispered, rolling your hips into his touch, chasing it, needing more.

nam-gyu chuckled, low and smug, and then he added a second finger, stretching you just a little more, fucking you slow and deep with just his hand. the angle was perfect, his fingers pressing against that spot inside you that made your toes curl, made your breath come faster, needier.

"you’re so fucking tight," he murmured, more fascinated than anything, watching the way his fingers disappeared inside you, the way you clenched around them. he twisted his wrist slightly, his palm pressing against your clit as he fucked you with his fingers, setting a rhythm that had you grinding against him, chasing that pressure.

your moan was quiet but desperate, and he smirked, eyes flicking up to yours.

"you always this easy?" he murmured, his voice taunting, dark.

you opened your mouth to snap something back, but then he crooked his fingers just right, pressing deeper, and your words dissolved into a gasp, your head tipping back. his lips were on your throat a second later, sucking, biting, leaving marks you’d have to cover up later.

his pace picked up, fucking you harder with just his fingers, each drag of his palm against your clit sending another sharp wave of heat curling low in your stomach. the room was quiet except for the sound of your breathy moans, his heavier breathing, the slick sounds of his fingers working you open.

"you gonna come?" he murmured against your skin, his voice rough now, strained.

you swallowed hard, your fingers tightening in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. "fuck—don’t stop," you breathed.

nam-gyu felt it—felt the way your body tensed, the way your thighs shook against his hips, the way you were right there, so fucking close. he could see it too, in the way your mouth parted, in the soft, breathy little gasps escaping your lips, the ones you were trying to swallow back like you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

but he wasn’t that generous.

just when you thought he’d let you tip over, when your body clenched down around his fingers so tight he could barely move them, he pulled away.

just—gone.

the sudden loss was so sharp, so fucking unfair, that you let out a frustrated, needy little whine before you could stop yourself, your hips rolling forward, chasing after the feeling, after his hand, anything. but nam-gyu just sat back, bringing his wet fingers up to his lips, slipping them into his mouth with a slow, deliberate hum.

"mm," he mused, tongue flicking over them, eyes locked on yours. "not bad."

"are you fucking kidding me?" you were panting, legs still shaking where you straddled him, your body on fire, needing more, needing anything. your eyes flashed, your hands curling into fists against his chest like you were two seconds away from either punching him or ripping his shirt off.

he just smirked. "what?"

"you—" you gritted your teeth, your nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. "you’re such a fucking asshole."

nam-gyu chuckled, low and lazy, his hands dragging up your thighs again, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just to remind you he still had you exactly where he wanted you. "maybe, but you're still here," he murmured. "still dripping for me."

"yeah, because you didn’t let me cum, you dick," you snapped, rocking forward again, grinding against him, feeling the hard, thick press of him through his pants. he was just as worked up as you were, and you could tell—he was trying to play it cool, but his breathing was heavier, his fingers twitching against your skin like he was barely holding himself back.

that made you smirk. "ohhh," you taunted, rolling your hips again, slower this time, watching his jaw clench. "that’s why, huh? you’re hard as fuck and don’t wanna finish before i do."

his eyes darkened, his grip tightening on your hips. "watch your fucking mouth."

"or what?" you leaned in, brushing your lips against his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin. "you gonna do something about it?"

that was it.

one second you were teasing him, playing your little game, and the next you were flat on your back, your spine pressing into the shitty, worn-out couch, his body caging you in. his hand was already shoving your skirt up, fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your thighs, not even bothering to be careful.

"you talk too much," he muttered, voice rough, breath hot against your jaw.

"and you do too little," you shot back, just to push him, just to make him snap again.

it worked.

his hand was on your throat, not squeezing, just there, just pressing, just reminding you that he could if he wanted to. his other hand yanked at his belt, the metal buckle clinking as he undid his pants, as he shoved them down just enough to free himself.

fuck.

you’d felt it before, pressing against you, teasing, but now you saw it. thick, flushed, leaking at the tip, the kind of length that made your thighs press together instinctively, made you bite your lip even as you refused to let him see you flustered.

nam-gyu saw it anyway.

"knew you wanted it," he muttered, running the head of his cock along your slit, dragging it slow through your wetness. "acting like a brat, but your pussy’s already begging."

"shut the fuck up and—"

he pushed in, just an inch, just enough to make you gasp, make your nails dig into his arms.

"yeah?" he exhaled sharply, his jaw tight, like he was already holding himself back. "that what you wanted?"

you barely had time to adjust before he thrust forward again, burying himself deep, stretching you in one slow stroke that left your back arching, your head tipping back against the couch.

"fuck—"

nam-gyu groaned, low and almost desperate, his forehead pressing against yours as he bottomed out, as he let you feel every fucking inch of him.

"you feel that?" he murmured, breath ragged, his hips rolling just a little, just enough to make you whimper. "how tight you are? how you’re fucking squeezing me?"

you couldn’t answer. you couldn’t think. all you could do was feel—the way he filled you, the way he stretched you, the way he stayed there for a second, teasing, waiting, making you want it more.

you swallowed, trying to catch your breath. "you gonna move, or you just like teasing your own dick?"

his laugh was low. then he pulled back and slammed into you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

"fuck—"

your back was pressed against the couch, legs spread wide, thighs trembling as he held you open. his body caged yours beneath him, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other gripping your hip, keeping you still as he drove into you with rough, unforgiving thrusts. his cock filled you completely—thick, hot, deep—dragging against every sensitive spot inside you, making you gasp with each desperate slap of his hips against yours.

"you gonna be good now?" his voice was low, ragged, dark with amusement. his grip tightened, fingers digging bruises into your skin. "or you still wanna run your mouth?"

you tried. you really did. you opened your lips to snap something back—something mean, something cutting, something to remind him you weren’t easy to break.

but all that came out was a choked moan as he grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

"that’s what i thought," he murmured against your lips, his breath hot, his mouth just barely brushing yours, teasing. "bratty little thing—talking shit. but look at you now."

his hand wrapped around your throat, fingers pressing just enough to keep you in place. not squeezing. just controlling. just owning. his other hand slipped between your bodies, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the swollen bud.

"fuck," you gasped, your hips rolling up instinctively, chasing that pressure, that friction.

nam-gyu chuckled, low and smug. "yeah? you like that?"

you wanted to tell him to fuck off. you really did.

but then he twisted his fingers just right, his cock hitting that spot inside you at the same time, and your body jerked, your moan breaking into something desperate.

"that’s it," he murmured, his lips brushing against your jaw, his pace still brutal, relentless. "don’t fight it. you wanna cum, don’t you?"

"yes—yeah," you panted, nails scraping against his wrist where he held your throat.

he pulled back suddenly, dragging his cock out until only the tip remained, making you whimper at the loss. his fingers abandoned your clit, and before you could protest, he did something worse—something filthier.

he spat.

the wet warmth of it landed directly on your pussy, slick and obscene. your whole body jolted.

"fuck—" your breath stuttered, your back arching as heat shot through you.

nam-gyu groaned at the sight, at the way you clenched, the way your body reacted so instantly, so helplessly.

"you like that, huh?" his voice was thick with satisfaction, his fingers dragging through the mess, smearing it over you, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles.

you shouldn’t. you really shouldn’t.

but the heat in your stomach coiled even tighter.

"say it," he ordered, his voice rough, his cock pushing back inside you, stretching you open again, slow and deep, making you feel every inch. "tell me you fucking love it."

your pride cracked. your body betrayed you.

"fuck—i love it," you gasped.

nam-gyu groaned, his breath hitching, his pace quickening. "good girl."

and then his fingers returned, rubbing messy circles over your spit-slicked clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, pushing you higher, harder—

you were already close. too close.

"fuck—fuck, i’m gonna cum," you choked out, hips jerking against his hand, against his cock, chasing it. "please—please don’t stop—"

and this time he didn’t.

he fucked you through it, his fingers never letting up, his pace relentless, driving you higher, harder, until it finally snapped—

your orgasm hit like a fucking wrecking ball.

your body clenched down on him so tight he cursed under his breath, his rhythm faltering for the first time. the pleasure crashed over you, your whole body shaking as you moaned through it, loud and wrecked, the sound swallowed by the shitty little staff room.

"fuck—fuck, yeah, that’s it," nam-gyu groaned, his grip on your hips bruising now, his thrusts rough and desperate as he chased his own release. "god, you feel so fucking good—"

he buried himself deep, his breath stuttering, his cock twitching inside you, and then he was coming, his grip tightening, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he groaned low into your skin.

for a second, all you could hear was the ragged sound of your breathing, the quiet hum of the party outside, the distant bass thudding through the walls.

nam-gyu exhaled, slow and shaky, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your waist, still holding you, still pressed against you.

then he pulled out, groaning at the sight of his cum spilling out of you, dripping between your thighs.

he smirked, dragging a lazy finger through it before pressing it against your lips.

"open," he murmured.

you did.

and fuck, the look in his eyes when you sucked it clean—

you were so fucked.

© servndipityz 2025 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content without my permission.

[blubunz]

JUST TONIGHT

— bodyguard! leon s. kennedy x f! model! reader

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: porn with plot, maybe slowburn? slight slowburn, pet names, fingering, masturbation.

A/N: a real sucker for this AU i just want myself a man like this tbh. anyways I write this when I can't sleep even though I clearly have to wake up early tomorrow. (Okay it's afternoon now um WHY IS THIS SO LONG😭 I DID NOT EXPECT IT TO BE LONG)

Throughout your career, you weren't in need for a strong, brooding figure to protect yourself, you weren't fond of having anyone watching over you — it made you feel like you're just a weak girl, a damsel in distress who always needs a knight by her side.

And you are, you need someone to be by your side and protecting you from harm. Sometimes you do reckless things, and not to mention those times where you made stupid decisions that almost cost you your life if not for Lady Luck. But Lady Luck can't stay with you forever, and you don't want to be living on edge so constantly. It makes you look like a madman and, most of all, losing sleep, bad schedule and then it escalated to affecting your career and hard work.

And that's why he's here.

You've heard of him before, not on the news, but through whispers and rumors. Of all the things you've heard from them, you're surprised how Leon isn't on the news as much, maybe he's laying low, or maybe he's working for the government, all private and redacted matters.

So then, how exactly did you manage to hire him?

For one, you're curious enough to search him up. His name isn't hard to find, and you admit he looks good, perfect for modeling. The problem is that he hardly uses social media. If he does, then maybe he goes by some other names, or he doesn't post a lot. You found out about Claire Redfield though, at first, she doesn't leave much impression to you, but the pictures she posted have that same familiar face, albeit Leon is looking like a grumpy uncle who would give bad advice to his nieces in each photo.

Once you've decided that it was enough to go stalking people's profiles, you go and make a call using your fame and broad connections in and out of your industry. You got his number in your contact within two days, and your hands are shaking as you try to call him.

It's not that you're scared of socializing, it's just that you're hesitant of making this decision, of finally have someone to protect your life, of admitting that you seek help and reassurance.

But, the possibilities of death and dark thoughts fill your mind quickly enough, and you convince yourself you need this, for your own sake.

“Hello?”

“Is this... Leon Kennedy?”

It's been a month since Leon's been here. Truth be told, he doesn't care much about how people are falling in love with you, mainly just your looks and charisma. He's heard of you many times, so many times, you keep appearing on magazines, billboards, the news, advertisements and more. God, there was this one prime time of your life where your face was practically everywhere! Not that you're no longer famous, but that was the time where your life was endangered the most by how crazy your fans were — another reason why Leon is here.

Upon interacting with you during your own time, Leon found out you're not like how the media portrays you to be. He isn't a stranger to it, seeing famous people and important figures always having to smile and maintain a certain persona for the sake of the community. Sure, you have that bit of yourself in it, but when he escorts you hone, it's when he sees your fatigue.

Your shoulders slump as you sigh, putting your bag on the coffee table as the TV is playing some shows for white noise, you're scared of the quietness — having thoughts that might hurt yourself. Leon closes the door and locks it safely, carrying your bag up to your room.

He doesn't need to do that, Leon's aware his job is to protect your life, not servicing you like a maid ir servant, but he keeps doing so, helping you with the small things like carrying your belonging, to making meals for you.

“You can't sleep now.” Leon sighs, seeing you lying on the couch, eyes closing. He doesn't want to startle you, so he picks you up and carries you into your bedroom, seating you by the make up table.

This is a change of pace for Leon, everything he does has to be careful for you. No longer picking up guns to shoot bio organism weapons or anything of the sort, instead he's now attending to a young model. Two different lives, and Leon finds himself hard to adjust, remembering the times you joke about him acting awkward sometimes when you tried to talk to him normally.

Your name comes out of his lips, sounding sweet and calm. And your eyes open, lazily rubbing off your make up while Leon prepares the bath for you.

“You don't have to do that.” You say once he steps out again, smelling a bit of the bath bomb he put in.

“I know. But, protecting your life is my job, and caring for your bare minimum needs is included.” He explains, and you just nod, not quite sure if they're connected in your mind.

Still, you let him undress you. Your cheeks flush at the way his fingers hook under your top to remove it, oh the slight contact when his hand brushes over your tits or ass. And sometimes you find it crazy how it's you that's the one being attracted to someone, and not Leon, who never advances himself on you, he doesn't even react when seeing your body, you find it weird, but intriguing too when your looks being the most important aspect of your industry, you've gotten used to the attention and the reactions.

In reality, Leon is still human, he admits your body is attractive, he wishes to lay his hands on your body with a more intimate intent, with more sensuality rather than just helping you with undressing or carrying you, his eyes linger on your skin, seeing that your body isn't that perfect as they claim to be, and he imagines himself kissing your flaws, to be the only one seeing your most intimate areas. But he's worked long enough not to let his feelings get involved, he can't bare it not after—

“You can... let me go.” Your voice cut through his thoughts, and Leon lets you go, he didn't even notice he was holding you still, zoning out and staring at the back of your neck.

“Right, sorry.” He clears his voice a little, sitting by your bed to wait for you to finish shower. He brushes a hand through his hair, finding himself longing for some alcohol to drown out this feeling. And that's also a problem. You've said you don't like the smell that lingers when he drinks, making excuses on how it affects your own scent, and people won't find you as attractive. He just stops drinking when he knows he'd have to see you later, not quitting for good, just pausing to prioritize his job — and in within case, his job means you.

Stepping in the shower, you can't help but fantasize about Leon, you can't believe that you fell for him first, and now you're imagining his hand cupping your mound, squeezing you and rubbing your clit. You gasp, eyebrows furrowed with clear displeasure on your face — your fingers aren't enough, you need a hand big like Leon's, to feel those rough pads of skin trailing down your body.

Grumbling in frustration, you go ahead and finish showering.

Leon finishes checking over the securities and ensuring that no one was lurking near your home, he get back to the living room only to see you in your robe, making some tea for yourself.

“Tea?” You ask, passing him the cup before he could say anything.

“Thanks.” He swallows, eyes flickering to your form hidden under the thin silk robe painted by your favorite color, somehow seeing your body like this is much more arousing than when you strip down naked, it teases his desire, and it leaves him chasing that tantalizing image. You catch his lingering gaze, and your eyes twinkle with a hopeful glea. Maybe he likes you too? Even if he's attracted to your looks, you can work your way with making him love you fully. After all, he's the only one who sees you in your most vulnerable moments. He's special, and you let him know of that privilege.

You head off to your room, with him following behind. Leon helps you with closing the curtains and removing your robe, palms firmly rubbing your shoulders. You shiver, letting the garment pool at your feet before seating on your bed in just your lingerie.

Leon tucks you in, and every time he does things like this, he gives you that flutter in your stomach, god, it's always the little things that get to you.

“Goodnight—”

“Leon, wait.” You reach up, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, and he looks at you with an unchanged expression.

“Yes?”

“Um...” You hesitate, will Leon find this weird? No, no, maybe you can make an excuse, saying that you're too paranoid. “Can you... stay in my room? Just tonight?”

Leon nods without hesitation or any questions. He sits by the chair near your makeup table and plans to just read something to pass the time.

“No, not there.” You say, your voice sounding abrupt as you try your best not to appear so needy. But you can't. You're just naturally so. “In my bed, please?”

Leon bites the inside of his cheeks to hold back his smile, you sound so cute with the little "please" as a cherry on top. He complies, sitting at the edge of your bed, a hand on your ankle.

“Is this good enough for you, princess?” He smirks, and you feel your cheeks flush. “Or do you want me to hold you close, hm? Protect you from the monsters, yeah?”

“That... That wouldn't be a bother.” You murmur, and Leon takes it to heart, taking off his jacket and crawling up to your side. Leon gets you on his lap, pushing your head against his shoulder.

“Better?” He asks, voice muffled from his lips pressed against your hair, smelling your shampoo.

You nod, hiding your flustered face in Leon's shoulder, that elicits a laugh from him and he brushes your hair. He rubs your back soothingly, feeling your body relaxes under his grip.

Leon traces his hand down to your lower back, kneeding your soft buttocks. You take a sharp inhale, subtly pushing up against his palm.

His eyebrow raises, smirking against your hair before rubbing your thighs, and you spread your legs open for him. Leon doesn't say anything and just watches your reaction. He can feel you breathing down his neck. Your heart picks up its pace in excitement.

“Do you like this?” He keeps the pace slow, rubbing up to the waistband of your panties.

“Mhm...” You nod.

“Want more?”

“Mhm.” You nod again.

He hooks his finger under the band, and pulls the garment down, enough to let his hand slide in, brushing just over the top near your aching clit.

The moment his middle finger presses against your bud, you moan, hips twitching against his palm.

“Have you been dreaming about this?” Leon asks, and you only whimper in response. His finger moves down, collecting your juices and pulling out, tasting your essence on his finger.

“Me too.” Leon admits, and he shoves his hand back to your cunt, pushing a finger through your entrance.

“I've been wanting this too. Even more, wanna feel this tight cunt around my dick instead.” He groans, the way your walls tighten around his finger is enough to make his cock leaking pre-cum. “Fuck— you're so tight already, hm? I bet you cum with just my fingers.”

You mewl, hips rutting against his palm, and Leon pushes another finger in, spreading your pussy open so that you can fit his cock.

“Oh, god, Leonnnnn!” Your eyes roll up as he pumps his fingers in and out of your cunt, juices drooling down his hand. “Mngh, f-fuck—”

“Good girl.” Leon whispers, kissing down your neck whilst your body trembles, shaking high in pleasure. “That's it.”

His thumb rubbing harshly against your clit, making your whines higher and higher, you sound so needy and desperate, an side of you that you don't want anyone to see — anyone but Leon.

Leon grunts, feeling your juices dampening his pants, right against his bulge. His cock throbbing in his pants, just aching to pound that tight pussy of yours. But he puts you first, making you cum and high in ecstasy.

“Mm, gonna cum, baby?” He coos, feeling your cunt clamping down his fingers. “Cum, baby, be a good girl and cum f' me.” He increases the pace and intensity of his thrusts, dreaming of them being his cock instead.

You moan loudly as you squirt against his palm, and your knees buckle, legs shaking and body trembling as you collapse on his body.

“Gooood girl.” Leon kisses your forehead, rubbing your back with a free hand while he sucks off your juices from his fingers. “Now, ready for the main event?”

You feel his cock twitches under you, and you can feel yourself heating up again. You gulp, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against his bulge.

“Yeah.”

[radical-remster]

Deadass I had to look through my archives to see what I wrote last and to no surprise at all I was writing a DMC fanfic 😭💀 anyways here it is, it’s unedited;

He should be angry, but he isn’t.

Nero couldn’t comprehend why out of all the things he could get mad over this feels more like an afterthought.

Maybe, it was because he never needed someone like his dad growing up because he always had Kyrie and Credo to look out for him.

Maybe, it was because he was used to the hole in his heart that longed to know what was missing in his life.

Or maybe, there was something wrong with him.

Two months have passed since Dante and Vergil left to the demon realm to keep the gates closed; two months have passed since he found out he had two living relatives, and two months have since passed since they both disappeared.

They were gone, and they left Nero with the heavy-duty job of protecting the human realm in their stead. Nero had not been given the time to process anything, there had quite literally been a one hour gap from when he found out who his father was to him having to say goodbye to him only moments later. At least with them gone it gave Nero time to think but that seemed to be the only thing he did nowadays, even with hunting jobs he took his thinking cost him and served as a deadly distraction. See, Nero wasn’t sure how to feel because on one hand he now knew some of the answers to the questions he’d been asking his whole life: who was he? Who cursed him to have been born with an arm like his? On the other hand, he didn’t care and that’s what bothered him. Why the hell didn’t he care more about this? Nero never had a grieving period to really mourn over the fact that he was probably never going to see Dante or his dad ever again.

So, what was the problem? He barely knew both men before everything went to shit on June 15th, his relationship with Dante was already distant considering after the attack on Fortuna all he really did was occasionally shadow over Nero to see how he was doing. He didn’t stick around long and he mostly appeared at the most random of times, he’d emerge from whatever corner he was hiding in to watch over Nero and act as if they’d been friends forever.

‘Hey kid, miss me? Hah - didn’t think so. You still have that sword from way back when? Yeah, that’s the one, I hope you’ve been taking care of it or else I’m gonna be taking it back for real this time.’

Last Sentence WIP Game

Tagged by @ilonga

You all know the drill by now: post the last line you wrote (from any WIP) and tag the same number of people as there are words.

Anakin stayed right where he was, forcing himself to breathe.

@jasontoddiefor @alabasterswriting @ghostwriterofthemachine @scandalsavagefanfic @daemoninwhiteround2 @thenafics @garpie64 @rose-blooms-red @atasteforsuicidal @sonderwalker

[thebearme]

This fic i wrote was made when my nose was in pain and is unfinished cause i hate writing i guess... anyway enjoy

Sensory Nose-aload

Dogman's noes has been by his side through thick and thin. Since the very beginning it will have help him sniff out where is Mother has gone if he couldn't see her, It would help find clues for a crime that takes more than Knight's fists and what Petey is cooking for dinner as of yesterday. But yet sometimes his nose would be the one needing help and Dogman would drop everything to make sure that his buddy is good, lending him to have sick days where his stuck in bed steaming his nose and putting vicks to get rid of that dastardly cold that assaults his nose and senses.

But scary enough it's not one of those days. It's something much worse, something that Dogman can't fight but has to sit and take the beating from.

When his nose is overloaded.

A feeling that's hard for Dogman to describe to anyone cause they just look at him weirdly. But I guess that's what happens when most of your friends are humans with human noses.

The day started out like anyother day, In bed between the covers. Dogman lays there for a moment to assist his surroundings, the gentle light shining through the curtains with the sound of a bird rustling in the tree, the soft distance beep of a fire detector on standby ...

Dogman never understood the point of the fire alarm eventho Petey INSISTED that it's for safety precaution and that "It will warn everyone in the house that there's a fire." Dogman guarantee that if it does detect a fire it would be LONG after he and frankly everyone already knew. After Dogman thinks of that ridiculous thought he started getting out of bed but not before having some weird spontaneous sneezes.

After the final sneeze, Dogman's nose started feeling suspicious painfully cold. Like If the inside of his nose took a bath and before drying took the biggest breath of the Arctic winds, making every noes hair and in extension every nerve ending feel like it's been pulled.

In response of these sudden pain of course Dogman grabbed his nose, hoping it was just him sneezing weirdly or something but as quickly as the excuse popped in, the truth came to knock it down.

His hands smelled

Not bad but just smells. He can smell the sweat glands on his palm, something he could always smell but only if he really focused too. But he didn't need to focus to smell here, it just came naturally... too naturally. Eventually recycling the same hot air was getting to his nose as well, It seemed to not be satisfied with hot or cool air. Dogman removed his hands from his nose and the cool air PUNCH him straight to the nose. Another assault to his nervous system, and he feels a headache coming on... Great.

In a attempt to preserve any chance of having his nose go back to normal he quickly looked around to the nearby nightstand and grabbed two tissues, sticking them up his nostrils.

That should stop that mean air from hurting my nose right?

Wrong.

Very very wrong.

After thinking that tissues would protect his nose they actually turned out to be the worst type of Trojan horse, causing more pain to his sensitive nerves but somehow the usual very dull smell of the soft tissue now is 1000 times the more potent with it once delightful smell now just smells like factory... Which is where it came from but HELL, it wasn't this strong.

In a pitiable operation towards some peace and stability Dogman went to hide under the covers till the pain is gone. He didn't need to go to work today anyway, so he could frankly hide here as long as he wanted! He a trys to restrain from that way of thinking because one off day can quickly become multiple. But this is definitely different, his nose and sanity is at stake!

Now hidden from the world is now miserable because It truly did nothing to stop the issue. He still smells the factory smell of the tissues, the smell of the dust floating around in the sun rays, the smell of bed sheets GOODNESS THE BED SHEETS! Let it be drool from nights and nights of butt tiredness, sweat from those tussles and beatdowns he would have to save the city and wouldn't take a shower afterwards or the musty smell of wet dog for went he would take a shower but not blowdry.

The smell is horrendous.

Why, why today his nose decisively turned on him? Did he not treat it well? Dogman takes his time to smell the flowers, smells the lovey food Petey would cook and even take bite of senseless candles... he didn't need to eat but that doesn't matter! All those wonderful times with his schnoz, so why must you kill him like this?

And with that moan of frustration and pain the headache stepped in saying 'hello honey, missed me?' and making itself homed in his doggy head. All because of that no good nose of his, Dogman can't even cope breathing through his mouth because EVERYTHING STILL MANAGES TO GET HIS NOSE!

His nose is so cold but also burning hot at the same time and at this rate Dogman is planning to cry out in some hope that someone puts him out of his misery but then Dogman smelled something that's not ENTIRELY dog water.

Bacon.

The smell of the gas stove releasing its hot air and the grease fatty seasoned, smoked, and sliced pork belly strips hitting the chipped over the years cast iron pan.

It must be Petey making breakfast.

The smell is getting stronger and stronger to the point he can almost ignore that other smells that pain him.

Almost.

[dandylovesturtles]

oh yeah so Yes pretty overwhelmingly won the poll so you guys only have yourselves to blame for seeing this nonsense I will probably not do much more with lol

anyway I've been mentally calling it the Draxum's Kids AU or Step-brothers AU because I didn't come up with anything creative

high level premise is that, due to ~mystic shenanigans~, Draxum from the OU (post-movie) gets pulled through a portal to another dimension, about a year behind the OU dimension, where he kept the turtles and accomplished a lot of his human eradication goals but was also a terrible father. Draxum sees the writing on the wall that his AU self's foolish actions have led to an impending apocalypse and finds the AU's Mikey (who is only called Boxshell) to help him get back to the original dimension. But as soon as he meets back up with Boxshell his Dad Instincts kick in and he realizes he can't just leave "his" kids here to die, so he decides to kidnap all four of them back to the original dimension.

this is complicated a bit by all of them hating each other

under the cut is about 3000 words of Draxum getting abducted

Draxum would really appreciate it if they could make it six months without a potentially world ending threat.

This one seems particularly suspicious. Giant black swirling vortexes giving off massive mystic energy signatures don’t simply <i>appear</i>, not for no reason. The fact that Michelangelo had been the first to notice it, cocking his head to the side like a bloodhound hearing a rabbit, was not putting him at ease, either.

“Soooo,” says Leonardo, swords already drawn and held loose at his sides, “what is it, Draxy?”

That is not his name, but because the situation is serious, he answers anyway. “You expect me to know? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“Come on, you’re our mystic guru! So get with the guruing!”

Draxum just gives him the look that the kids are coming to call his “not mad, just disappointed” face. He doesn’t have any more answers than he did two seconds ago. On the plus side, it doesn’t seem like anything is coming <i>out</i> of the dark swirly vortex, nor is anything getting sucked in. It’s just hanging there, in the sky over the Hidden City, menacingly.

“Doesn’t it feel familiar?” asks Michelangelo. Unlike Leonardo, he still hasn’t drawn any weapon. He’s just watching it, curious.

“I don’t remember the Krang portal looking like that,” says Donatello. “We could see the Prison Dimension on the other side. That’s just… an indistinct vortex of doom.”

“Not like the Krang,” says Michelangelo, but he doesn’t offer any further guesses. He just watches it with big eyes.

“But we gotta do somethin’ about it, right?” asks Raphael. “We can’t just leave it up there.”

“Well, if it’s not hurting anyone,” says Leonardo slowly.

“Just because it is not doing anything in this instant does not mean it will stay that way,” says Draxum.

“Yeah, yeah.” Leonardo slices through the air, a blue and less chaotic looking portal opening up. “Let’s check it out, Dee. Get some energy readings and all that nerd jazz. The rest of you, stay here in case it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, but it’s fine if it’s me,” says Donatello, but he steps up to the portal anyway. 

Draxum feels uneasy, because he doesn’t know what that thing is or what it will do, and because he doesn’t want the two of them going alone. “I’ll come with you,” he says, and when the kids give him a look, he quickly adds, “I may notice something that Donatello would miss.”

“I don’t <i>miss</i> things,” Donatello snaps back, but that’s factually untrue, so Draxum just grunts in response to it. 

“Sure, goatman cometh,” says Leonardo airily. “Let’s just go!”

Just to be sure nothing bad will happen, Draxum steps through first. The twins follow him.

They’re on a rooftop now, just under the vortex. Draxum had been expecting… something, but there are no threats, no signs of anything amiss. It’s a bit windy, and the vortex is making an ominous buzzing noise, but that’s all.

“Can you tell anything from here?” asks Leonardo, looking between the two of them. Donatello has his goggles down and a holoscreen up, incomprehensible numbers scrolling by at a fast pace. For his part, it seems the same to Draxum here as it did across town.

Donatello’s readings slow, and he raises the goggles again. 

“It’s… definitely massive, but I can’t tell much more than that. Though… I think Mikey was right. That it feels familiar.” He looks at his brother, something complicated in his expression. “Like we’ve seen something like this before.”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” says Leonardo, before turning his attention to Draxum. “How easy is it to make an interdimensional portal, anyway?”

Draxum snorts at this question. “For a pocket dimension, relatively simple. For an actual, separate world… Theoretically, it could be done, but it would take a massive amount of mystic energy and decades of experience. Especially if one does not have a mystical object to channel a portal through, like the key that was used for the Krang’s prison dimension.”

“But Mikey was able to do it,” Leonardo points out.

“Yes. And need I remind you it almost killed him.”

“You needn’t,” he snaps back. “I’m just saying… <i>if</i> it can be done, it really seems like someone’s trying it right now.” He still has his swords out, watching the vortex warily. “And what’re the odds that they’re coming here for a friendly visit?”

Draxum doesn’t argue there; he’s already treating whatever this is as hostile. Better to assume wrong and apologize later than to let down his guard and let one of his kids get hurt.

There’s the sound of footsteps behind them, and the three of them turn at once, startled. “Well, there’s Mikey,” Leonardo is already saying in a resigned sort of way, like he knew Michelangelo would join them before he gave the command.

���Sorry, Leo,” says Raphael, landing with heavier tread on the rooftop just behind Michelangelo. “He gave me the slip.”

“Guys, it’s fine!” Michelangelo argues, in that tone he uses when he feels like he’s being babied. “I’m telling you, whatever’s making that portal isn’t here to hurt us.”

“And you know this based on what evidence?” asks Donatello.

“It’s a feeling!”

“Ah yes, feelings, how quantifiable.”

“Well <i>you</i> don’t have any evidence it’s evil either, Donald!” Michelangelo retorts.

Draxum is about to step into the middle of this quarrel when Leonardo stops it for him.

“Guess we’re about to find out who’s right,” he says, eyes locked on something above them, and Draxum looks up just in time to see that there’s <i>movement</i> coming from the vortex now. “Dee, take Raph; Miguel, you’re with me.”

“Wait, guys, we should just-” Michelangelo tries again, but a shimmering blue portal under his feet stops him. Leonardo and Michelangelo reappear in the sky above, Leonardo using his portals to stay airborne while Michelangelo catches himself with his mystic powers. There’s the roar of a jet, and then Donnie is after them, his shimmering mystic tech carrying himself with Raphael dangling underneath.

And of course they’ve left him on the roof. Draxum sighs. <i>Children</i>.

He pops several vines on the roof and uses them to propel himself skyward, eyes searching for what has come through the portal, if that’s what it is. It’s difficult to see against the black coloration, but the boys seem to have gathered under a figure in a dark cloak, who emerges slowly from the middle of the vortex. It seems to cling to them like dark, black ink, the mystic energy drawing out behind them in long, gooey ropes. 

Draxum knows he is still many meters away, but even still, he doesn’t think the figure is very large. It’s a surprise, given that the vortex itself is at least fifteen or more meters across, but the figure coming out is short and slight, not even as big as Michelangelo. Of course, that doesn’t mean much; plenty of yokai are small statured naturally, as are some humans. Even Lou Jitsu is small, now, but still mighty. He can’t let the size of the person put him off guard, especially when they have summoned such massive mystic energy.

“Hey!” cries out Michelangelo. “Can we talk to you!?”

The figure in the cloak seems to startle at being addressed. For a moment, they hang in the air, the ropey energy of the vortex growing thicker on their arms and legs. Almost like it’s trying to pull them back.

The figure seems to realize this, too, because they jerk forward and raise their arms in a panicked arc.

Fire comes out - dark flames with incandescent blue cores that Draxum knows are hotter than any normal flame. If the boys are struck, the damage will be severe. Thankfully, Michelangelo yelps and whirls aside before he can be burned.

“I don’t think they’re interested in talking!” calls Donatello.

“That’s alright,” yells Raphael, his ninpo lighting his body red, “because <i>I’m</i> interested in smashing!”

The midair fight begins in earnest now, the boys darting around the figure with their weapons drawn, even Michelangelo. The cloaked figure fights back with the flames, dark and so hot that as Draxum’s vines carry him closer, he can feel the heat coming off of them. Yet, despite the intensity of the attacks, Draxum notices that they are unwieldy and unpracticed, like the wielder has no real experience in fighting, and certainly not midair against so many opponents. Add to that, the strange, inklike properties of the still-spinning vortex seem to be actively trying to pull the figure back; each time they make progress, the moment their attention is drawn by one of the boys, they’re yanked back another few feet.

Draxum sprouts a few more vines off his main one, so that he can move more freely. Aerial combat has never been his forte, but he can make it work. So long as none of those desperate fire attacks burn through his vines and send him tumbling to the ground (he can only hope, in that event, that one of the twins notices him). 

The cloaked figure is still attacking wildly, and the boys have to move fast to keep out of the way. It’s easier for Michelangelo and Donatello, who can stay airborne indefinitely; Leonardo, meanwhile, has to use his portals to catch himself and Raphael periodically, portalling them back to the sky or giving them a portal to ground to launch off of. This leaves them open to attack.

Draxum couldn’t have made it in time if he’d wanted to, but in the moment he isn’t thinking he has to.

One of the unfocused black flames strikes Raphael; his ninpo projection protects him from being harmed, but he still lets out a gasp of surprise as it burns rapidly through the ninpo itself, leaving him exposed. Donatello swoops in to catch him before he can fall, and all the boys hang back for a moment, stunned by this development.

“What was <i>that</i>!?” Leonardo calls out, portaling above Donatello and landing on his constructed battleshell (Donatello says, “Oof!” loudly, but doesn’t throw him off). “It just burned through Raph’s shield like it was tissue paper!”

“Augh… that felt… weird.” Raphael is rubbing at his temple with his fingers. “Raph did not like that.”

“Alright, clearly this guy is dangerous.” Leonardo is tense, eyes focused as he watches the cloaked figure yank free of the stringy ropes of magic from the vortex, coming closer. “But see how the portal’s trying to pull them back in? We just gotta get them close enough and send ‘em back where they came from.”

He glances over at Michelangelo. Draxum looks, too. The boy’s brow is creased, like he isn’t happy with this outcome, but his eyes are focused on Raphael.

“...Yeah,” he says finally, and gives his nunchucks a swing. They light up with his orange ninpo, the bright fire a stark contrast to their enemy’s dark flames. “Let’s send ‘em back!”

The boys spring back into action, and Draxum follows suit, his vines carrying him up, closer to the vortex. Now he can feel more of the thing’s power directly, a great gusting wind that pulls rather than pushes. He hangs back from the direct fighting and instead watches the boys closely, should he need to intervene the way he hadn’t for Raphael. If the fire can eat through their ninpo, then any of them being struck would be disastrous - especially if one of the others could not catch them in time.

The kids are succeeding in their gambit to push the figure back towards the vortex, but that means they are also increasingly putting themselves in range of its dangerous reach. The ropey strands of dark mystic energy reach out like hungry tendrils, latching onto scales before being cut or shaken off. Leonardo has all but abandoned the fight against the figure and instead puts his efforts into slicing the strands apart any time they touch one of his brothers, either directly with his katana or with a well placed portal. He leaves the strands that attach themselves to the mysterious person, and they wrap more firmly around the legs, arms, and neck of the one in the cloak.

And that’s when they finally speak.

“No!” they cry out, in a voice unmistakably juvenile. “No, please! I just want to escape - don’t make me go back!”

Michelangelo stops short, bobbing uncertainly only a few meters from the screaming figure (a boy, Draxum thinks, but cannot be sure). “Guys,” he says hesitantly, lowering his weapons. “I really think we should-”

Whatever he was about to say is interrupted by a burst of flames from the cloaked boy’s hands, spiraling directly towards him.

“MIKEY!” shout several voices at once; Draxum only realizes a beat later that one of them is his. He’s the closest, and he moves fast, putting himself and a wall of vines between the flames and his son.

The flames make such short work of the vines, it’s almost comical. Draxum watches as the fire races down the towering stalk he’s made, eating them away and leaving nothing behind, not even ashes. The vine Draxum was standing on is, of course, completely obliterated, and he feels the swoop in his stomach as gravity starts its relentless pull.

“Dad!” he hears Michelangelo call out. The boy reaches a hand toward them, and in his panic Draxum reaches back. They are only a few meters from each other, and then less and then less, fingers almost touching-

But it is something else that grabs him first.

The vortex’s dark energy feels disgusting and slimy where it touches Draxum’s fur, like a leech pulled from some noxious bog. Its tug is ferociously strong, and he realizes that if Leonardo had not been quick, if the magic had wrapped around any of his brothers’ limbs the way it’s wrapped around Draxum’s arm, disentangling them would have taken massive effort. As it’s going to take to free him now.

There’s a yank, and he’s ripped away from Michelangelo and towards the vortex.

“No!” screeches the cloaked boy, and sputtering flames spill out around him, forcing the turtles back before they can move in to rescue him. “No! Get away! Leave me alone!”

“Gladly!” Draxum shouts back, ripping and yanking to try and free his arm. “Just close this foolish portal and go back where you came from!”

“I <i>can’t</i>!” the boy screams, and he sounds so wretched, Draxum almost feels some sympathy for him. “I can’t! I can’t!”

“You must!” Draxum argues, because he can tell. The energy has wrapped too securely around the cloaked boy now; there will be no freeing him. The portal he made is impressive, <i>especially</i> as young as he sounds, but it is not complete. He could not be severed from it, even if they tried to help. In fact, if they fully pulled him from the vortex, it would likely kill the child.

No; he must go back. But… is there still time for Draxum?

“Barry!” he hears the boys call out. They try to get close, but another burst of searing heat from the panicked boy in the vortex keeps them from advancing. More of the stringy ropes of magic are wrapping around Draxum now, on his arms, his torso, his legs. His neck. They yank him back, hard, and he gasps as the air leaves his lungs. The mystic energy slithers over him like a living creature, wrapping him up more and more securely in its snare.

It seems… there is not.

“<i>NO</i>!” screams the cloaked boy, one last panicked, desperate cry, but then his voice is abruptly silenced. There’s a roaring noise, incomprehensibly loud, and Draxum faintly wonders if this is how it sounds when a star collapses in on itself.

The last thing he sees as the portal closes around him is Michelangelo’s face, eyes wide and afraid, mouth open in a shout, hand outstretched as far as it can go.

And then all is dark.

…

When Draxum wakes, he’s laying on the ground in an alley in the Hidden City.

He feels a flash of <i>something</i> markedly unpleasant when he realizes he’s alone: sadness, betrayal, perhaps even, Titan forbid, <i>loneliness</i>. It seems the boys have left him to his fate and gone home.

Then he remembers the portal, and Donatello and Michelangelo’s guess that it was interdimensional. It’s likely the boys don’t know where he is. It’s possible he’s not even in the same time.

Or the same world at all.

Disturbing as that thought is, the part of the Hidden City he can see from his vantage point seems familiar enough. He recognizes this as a part of the old downtown, not far from where he and the kids had been fighting the cloaked boy. Even if this isn’t his time, at least he should still be able to navigate - that makes things easier.

He gets to his feet, shaking the soreness out of his limbs. He hears something pop, and is suddenly immensely glad the boys aren’t here after all. He’d rather not endure another round of teasing for being “old”.

The Hidden City he travels through seems largely the same as the one he left, to a degree that he starts to wonder if it wasn’t an interdimensional portal after all. If it was, the dimension he’s in now seems to have only slight variations.

Or that’s what he thinks, until he makes it to the nearest portal back to New York City.

There’s a checkpoint set up in front of it, one that didn’t exist here before. There are guards standing sentinel, ushering through a line of yokai and occasionally asking questions. They don’t seem hostile to the yokai, but it does seem like precautions need to be taken for… some reason.

More startling to Draxum are the crests that adorn banners hung around the checkpoint, matching emblems blazed on the uniforms of the officers.

His family’s crest.

It seems this dimension is quite different after all.

[4ranghaes]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ bnd with pregnant!reader

ot5 bnd x reader [fluff, afab!reader, pregnant!reader]

a/n - i just felt a bit weird writing woonhak, considering he’s younger than me idk,, hope you still enjoy!!!

sungho🎀 [4 months along]

“wait! wait, wait,” he said quickly, slamming the car door on his side before running round and opening your own.

you chuckled, “thank you, ba–”

“here,” he said, taking your hand, placing his other hand on your back as he helped you out the car.

“sungho,” you sighed, as he rushed to grab your bag and lock the car before ushering you inside, “sungho!”

he stopped, turning to you. he’d just reached the front door of your house, key in his hand as he stopped.

“you need to stop fussing over me,” you laughed, “i’m fine. i’m barely even showing yet!”

sungho sighed, placing his hand protectively on your back as the two of you walked inside, “i know. i’m sorry, i just– i already worried about everything when you were just you! now it’s you and our baby, in one person?! everyday i think i’m going to combust when i think about it.”

you collapsed on the sofa, your body tired and achey. even if you weren’t showing, pregnancy was still doing a number on your body. you laughed at your husband’s words, beckoning him to your side, “i need you to be normal, for my own sanity. and i need you to calm down, for your own health.”

he nodded, leaning on your shoulder, wrapping his arm round your waist, “i’ll try.” he sighed in contentment, his thumb rubbing gently on your stomach, “that was a good scan today.”

you nodded, placing your hand over his, “i love hearing their heartbeat.”

sungho grinned, looking to you and nodding, “i know, makes it feel real that there’s a little person in there! i can’t believe it.” he quietened down again quickly, massaging your legs he knew were aching, kissing your forehead softly. “son or daughter?”

you chuckled, placing your hands over your stomach and humming, “i have no idea.”

“come on,” sungho jeered, “mum’s instinct?”

you smiled, butterflies erupting at the sound of being called mum for the first time, “the instinct is that they’re beautiful and loved, no matter what.”

“yeah…” your husband hummed, “but a daughter would be lovely, right?”

you giggled, nodding as you played with his hair, “and you’d spoil her completely, i’m sure.”

riwoo 🦦🍡 [3 months along]

“was that a dream?”

you hummed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before snuggling into your husband’s chest, “what?”

“last night,” he said, staring at the ceiling. he glanced at you, a small smile on his face as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close. “i could swear i had a dream that you told me you were pregnant.”

you giggled, “hmm, i wonder why.”

riwoo chuckled, “i can’t believe it. i feel like i need to do something… tell someone? buy something?”

you laughed, “just hold on. i think we should wait until 20 weeks to tell people. that’s what they suggest, anyway.”

“sounds good,” he nodded, sighing with contentment, “wow. i mean, before the years over we’re gonna have a baby. at christmas! oh wow. do you think it’s gonna be a boy or a girl?”

you giggled, closing your eyes from sleepiness, “i don’t know, sanghyuk.”

“i need to research,” he hummed, stroking your hair, “i don’t know anything about pregnancy or babies.”

“did you know they can already hear?” you smiled, rolling onto your back and placing your hand on your stomach. nothing was showing, but just the idea was exciting. riwoo looked shocked, scooting down the bed and resting his head on your chest, his hand on your lower stomach.

“they can hear me?” he smiled, stroking the skin softly.

“yeah,” you said, stroking riwoo’s hair, “go on, say something. i’ve done it a couple times.”

“okay,” he chuckled, humming for a moment as he swiped his hand over your stomach, “hey baby. i– i don’t know anything about you yet. haven’t even seen a scan. but i’m your dad. um… i guess you’ll get to know me pretty well. i’m excited to meet you, in 7 months. it feels long, but i’m sure it’ll go by quickly, and then you can celebrate christmas with me and your mum. speaking of your mum… you’re inside her now, so she’ll take good care of you. but i hope you treat her well too, don’t make her too ill. um… i don’t really know what else to say so i’ll say bye for now but i’ll speak to you again soon, okay? i’ll play you one of my songs too! feel free to kick or whatever to respond if you like it–”

“five months.”

“hmm?”

“usually you don’t feel the baby kick until five months,” you smiled, stroking your husband’s hair back as he turned his face to look at your face now, instead of your stomach.

he frowned, “that’s so long.”

“come on, we have to get up now,” you groaned, stretching before sitting up.

“okay,” riwoo sighed, pressing a quick kiss to your stomach and leaping out of bed, “i’ll start the coffee— oh.”

you grumbled, glaring at him, “don’t rub it in.”

jaehyun🪻🐕 [6 months along]

“hiya pretty girl,” he said, bursting into a smile as you wandered into the living room.

you glared at your husband, “don’t patronise me.”

“i’m not,” jaehyun laughed, “come on, sit down, i’ll rub your feet.”

“you will?” you asked, almost tearing up in gratitude.

“of course!” he exclaimed, voice soft like a melody as he helped you onto the sofa before pulling your legs up so they were resting in his lap.

“sorry i was grumpy,” you said sheepishly, as he started massaging your soft-covered feet and legging-covered calves.

“it’s okay,” he beamed, “be as grumpy with me as you want, my girl! you’re carrying my baby.”

one of his hands trailed up to rest on the bottom of your rounded stomach. you smiled, placing your hand over his before dragging it upwards to where your daughter’s little feet were kicking repetitively.

“woah, harsh!” he gasped over-dramatically, rubbing the spot with his thumb.

jaehyun was good at leaving you to your own devices during pregnancy, knowing that too much worrying and fussiness would be overbearing for your already over-loaded body and mind, but sometimes you didn’t mind a bit of fuss.

“do you want anything particular for dinner?” he asked, moving back to massaging your feet.

you hummed, “no, i don’t have anything in mind. you can choose.”

“okay,” he said suspiciously, “but i’ll check with you first, yeah? i want you to eat.”

you smiled, nodding and going back to your phone.

“oh check your emails, by the way,” he said, barely even looking at you as he spoke, “i ordered some things for the nursery.”

you clicked on the app, eyes widening at the confirmation email you’d received that morning. “some things?! jaehyun, this is the whole nursery!”

“well we needed to get it done, right?” he shrugged.

“oh thank you,” you cooed, removing your legs from his lap and instead cuddling into his side, “how did you know i was stressing about that last night?”

“you wrote it on a post-it note to remind yourself, and then forgot to put it up,” he chuckled, kissing your forehead, “no need to worry anymore, though.”

you sighed, pregnancy brain ruining your ability to even think anymore, “thank you, love.”

“that’s okay, pretty girl,” he smiled down at you, “and hey, why don’t we go clothes shopping soon? hmm? you know we’re gonna love that.”

you smiled, nodding as jaehyun pressed a soft kiss to your lips, “you’re the best.”

taesan 🎸🐈‍⬛ [7 months along]

“dongmin, have you seen my tape?”

“woah,” he smirked, sitting up on the bed as he ogled you in the doorway.

“what?” you sighed.

you were stood wearing nothing but a crop top that only covered your boobs nowadays, with booty shorts, and your hair which had finally had a wash after a week was put away messily.

“you look gorgeous,” he blinked, face unwavering as you rolled your eyes.

“please,” you scoffed, practically waddling over to your husband.

he smiled, “no, i’m serious. i don’t think i’ve ever been more turned on. god you’re sexy.”

“oh my god keep it in your pants! i’m already pregnant,” you rolled your eyes, standing in front of him, “now can you answer my question?”

“your tape? oh the belly supporter one? yeah, it’s in the dresser,” he hummed, “i’ll get it, you sit down.”

he swapped your positions so you were sat on the edge of the bed and he wandered over to grab the tape, coming and helping you stand back up to put it in position.

“how could you possibly find me sexy right now?” you laughed, looking at yourself in the mirror as you planned where to put the tape to support your body the most.

“cause you’re all mine,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder as he stood behind you, “and everyone knows it. and you’re so cool, you’re carrying a person, our person.”

you smiled, taesan’s hands snaking round your waist and resting on your stomach as his head rested on your shoulder.

“sorry i find cool and powerful women so sexy,” he shrugged.

“wow you’re such a feminist,” you laughed, taesan shaking his head as he chuckled. “speaking of, how’s the nursery coming along?”

“nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about, princess,” he hummed, kissing your shoulder as he went and grabbed his laptop off the bed, “in two weeks it’ll be done, and we’ll be fully ready for our little guy. okay?”

you nodded, smiling as taesan continued to stand behind you, admiring you in the mirror. you basked in the moment for a while longer, sighing in contentment as you leaned against his body.

“fuck,” you cursed under your breath, seeing a large wet spot appear on your crop top.

“fuck,” taesan murmured, “i need to get you pregnant more often.”

you glared at him, “not helping.”

leehan🪸🐠 [5 months along - warning: mentions of like,, being able to see the baby move? some people find that gross so i wanted to leave a warning😭]

“y/n?”

“up here!” you called from the bedroom, as leehan came through the front door after work.

you heard your husband sprinting up the stairs, two at a time as he usually did, appearing in the bedroom doorway with a goofy smile on his face.

“hey, how was your— woah.”

he stopped his question, looking at your rounded stomach which was seemingly moving beneath the skin.

“this is so freaky,” you chuckled, “i mean, interesting. but weird, right?”

“that is so cool,” he said, quickly coming to the side of the bed and kneeling down, peering closely at the skin.

you laughed, “she’s really in there, huh?”

“hey, baby,” leehan spoke, poking your stomach gently, “why you wriggling so much? you uncomfortable?”

you chuckled at his words, stroking the hair on the back of his head as he resting his chin on the mattress.

“wah,” he spoke, placing a hand flat on your stomach, letting it be moved by your unborn child, “wah. hi baby, it’s daddy. remember me?”

“i hope so, considering you speak to her twice a day,” you laughed.

he smiled, kissing his fingers and pressing it to the skin. he continued to blink, in a quiet fascination of your baby, and of you, for carrying her inside you.

“is it uncomfortable?”

“no,” you shook your head, “feels weird though. i couldn’t even describe it if i wanted to.”

he nodded thoughtfully, “how long has she been doing this?”

“all afternoon,” you said, before adding sheepishly, “i phoned the doctor at first. they were a bit pissed at me, i think, cause it turns out it’s absolutely nothing to worry about. but i just thought this movement seemed excessive, right?!”

“yeah, they’re a dick,” leehan said, voice almost emotionless, “you’re just worried for your baby, you’re being a good mum.”

you smiled, “thanks, love. anyway, they said she’s probably just moving position, but it’s early enough that they’re confident she’ll move back before it’s time to come out.”

“she’s just an acrobat, hmm?”

“or a dancer, maybe?” you smiled, leehan looking at you shyly before looking back to your stomach.

“i want to name her sua,” he said, suddenly.

“sua?” you repeated, “as in… water themed?”

he nodded, “either that or i name her after a fish, so it’s up to you.”

you laughed, leaning over and kissing his head, “sua sounds perfect.”

[acynicalsweetheart]

Dad Jimmy and daughter reader sitting in his lap at a family gathering (like a holiday or smth idk) while she tries not to draw attention to him (not so) subtlety groping her and grinding on her under the blanket. By the time he finishes, he thinks he got away with it without his daughter or anyone else noticing..😇

hai made it curly’s family gathering cause jimmy’s family is dead or deadbeat to me… omfg somebody lynch me i am so bad at following requests sorry. i did NOT see the part ab daughter reader not noticing gosh. anyway… very new to writing jimmy so it kind of really sucks.. read cws!!

content warning: 18+, dead dove do not eat, daddy-daughter incest, non/dub-con, etc etc

“Would you look at that? The couch is all full!” Curly exclaims like he is a fucking sitcom character. Kind of how it goes when he tries to make a joke. Painfully unfunny, that is. His family members sit there like lobotomees, squeezing out half-aborted chuckles.

Jimmy plays along just to spite you.

“Too bad,” he pats your cheek twice—hard, “looks like you’ll have to sit on daddy’s lap tonight.” 

The way the color instantly drains from your face is too good, looking ghastly within a matter of seconds. Curly’s entire family be damned, his fourtieth-something birthday be damned, Jimmy feels like fucking the life back into your corpse.

Right here and now, ideally. He has no clue where that thought came from but it’s welcomed. 

“I’m sure there’s… a spare chair or something I can use.” You look around frantically, eyes scanning the living room like Jimmy having you in his lap is a fate worse than death. They land on your savior. “Right, Uncle Curly?” 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Curly offers you a quick glance, finishes setting up a shitty movie he for some very peculiar fucking reason wants to watch with his family and Jimmy, to celebrate his midlife crisis milestone. 

Uncle Curly likes you, sure, but he likes Jimmy better. Takes about half a brain cell to see that. 

Jimmy grunts when he pulls you onto his lap, partly ‘cause he’s nearing Curly’s age (old) and partly ‘cause his dick is already kicking up a fuss in his pants. 

He hopes you can feel it.

“Dad? What are you—what is that?” You whisper obnoxiously loud when he grips your hips, moving his own against your ass. “Oh my gosh, is that your—“

“Shut up.” He interrupts before you can finish your babbling, it’s like you want to get smacked. 

Jimmy doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just did it ‘cause he felt like it and now he’ll keep going. Wring every possible reaction out of you because goddamn this birthday party is fucking boring. Where is the booze? The real booze, not some pesky little pint of wine. Curly’s an alcoholic, isn’t he? 

“You’re so gross!” 

Gross? Jimmy hasn’t even fucking done anything yet. Typical stuck-up bitch you are. Like being within several feet of your vicinity is enough to warrant a restraining order against him, an anti-Jimmy movement of some sort. 

He’ll show you how gross he can really be. 

Arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from escaping, Jimmy fumbles with the blanket - purely ‘cause he doesn’t want Curly’s entire bloodline to see his dick - and heads for the zipper of his—

“Is everything okay over there?” Goldilocks interjects. 

You flail like a toddler two seconds away from drowning, teasing Jimmy by putting all that friction against his cock. “Dad’s trying to—“

Trying to what? Fuck you? Maybe. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jimmy pinches your cheek and you grimace. “Think it might be that time of the month for the little lady here, if you know what I mean.”

He hears one of Curly’s relatives snicker under their breath. 

Your mouth falls open, nearly gasping out of shock. “That’s—“ 

Jimmy knows exactly what you were going to say. That’s so not true! Dad, that’s so fucking mean and unfeminist and bla bla bla, patriarchy, oppression—

“Alright,” Curly’s turn to cut you off, speaking directly to Jimmy like he owns you. That’s right. “Just try to keep it down, yeah? Movie’s just started.” And that’s that. 

“Dirty fucking bitch,” Jimmy presses his mouth to your ear, talking directly into it to feel you squirm against him. “You want them to see, huh?”

“No…” Please. Your panties are probably soaked already, comes with being related to Jimmy—you’re all fucked up.

His hands slide up your bare thighs, feeling the skin prickling up underneath his touch. You kick your legs, nearly hitting some Curly 2.0 in the process. Jimmy keeps going till he finds your mound and he is right like always—you’re wet.

No time to waste, Jimmy creeps under your panties, shamelessly rubbing away at your sticky little pussy, the slickness mildly audible. You’re gripping his wrist so hard beneath the blanket that Jimmy’s surprised he can’t feel your nails break. 

“Dad,” it’s halfway a whine, halfway a whisper, “dad, stop.” 

You’re terribly quiet, not kicking up a big enough fuss for someone who seemingly wants him to stop. Jimmy sinks two of his fingers past your entrance, feeling you stiffen in his lap like you’ve never had anything up there before. Can’t be true, you’re sucking him in like a fucking vacuum cleaner. 

“No.” He picks up his pace, your cunt squelching around his fingers under the blanket, damn near talking louder than the actors in the movie. 

You struggle to contain your own noises, clamping down around his fingers already. 

“You wish it was my cock inside you.” Jimmy tells you matter-of-factly, nips at your earlobe. 

“Eww,” you whimper, a brat even when getting fucking molested. Who raised you? ‘Cause it sure wasn’t Jimmy. 

He doubles down, “you want Uncle Curly to see what dad’s doing to you?” You squeeze him tighter, cheek hot against his. Of course.

Or one of his sisters perhaps. He wants to say… Wavy? Maybe the old fuck casually hogging up two couch cushions that may or may not be Curly’s father. Jimmy should thank him, really, wouldn’t be feeling your pussy gripping onto his fingers for dear life if it wasn’t for him. 

“Quit acting like you didn’t want this,” Jimmy’s fingers find your spongy spot, hitting it over and over ‘cause he knows it’ll have you cumming around him. “You’ve just been aching for daddy to touch you here, haven’t you?” Is all it takes for you to snap. Dirty fucking slut.

The moans get stuck in your throat, teeth biting your lip hard enough to draw blood as you cum—soaking his fingers and his pants and Curly’s blanket. Jimmy doesn’t stop, grinning at your mortified expression. 

Jimmy pulls out with a sloppy squelch after you’ve come down from your incestual high. You’re still frozen, looking like that bitch from The Shining with your open, unblinking eyes and discombobulation plastered all over your face. 

One of Curly’s sisters, or his mother, shoots him a nasty glare. If she’s so disgusted by Jimmy now, she’d have a fucking heart attack if she saw the other guys at the trailer park. Jimmy may look like a hobo from time to time, nothing he doesn’t already know. Plastic whores and their plastic attitudes. They disgust him. 

Braindead freaks. Jimmy practically fucked his daughter right under their noses and they didn’t notice a thing. 

“Act up like that again and I’ll pull my cock out, stick it in your hole for everybody to see.” He wipes off your cum on your thighs, pulling his hands away to keep you wrapped up in his lap. “No blanket.” 

[melosliving]

heyy !! could you write a blurb of kelvin’s reaction to reader getting his initials on her nails?? like maybe it’s their wedding day or soon to be? and he’s all proud like “yup that’s my wife” or smth ???

Let me cook 😎 I hope you’ll like it !!!!

Kelvin harrison jr x wife!reder

wifey thingz

You sit in the dressing room, hands resting on your lap, nerves thrumming just beneath your skin. The fabric of your wedding dress feels impossibly soft, the weight of the moment settling over you like a warm embrace. The day has been a whirlwind, a rush of last-minute touches, family laughter, and excited whispers. But now, in this quiet moment, your heart beats steady and sure.

Kelvin knocks once before stepping in, his smile widening the second he sees you. “Damn,” he exhales, shaking his head. “Look at you.”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest spreads anyway. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

“Couldn’t help myself but wanting to see my future wifey,” he admits, stepping closer. His fingers trail lightly along your arm before he catches your hands in his. His gaze drops, and he stills.

“Wait, hold up,” he says, turning your hand slightly, eyes narrowing. “Are those my initials on your nails?” You bite your lip, trying not to grin. “Is it ? I don’t know, let’s look together and find out.” You say sarcastically, playing dumb.

He tilts his head, lips parting in quiet wonder before his face breaks into a slow, proud smile. “Nah, you didn’t.”

“sure did,” you tease, wiggling your fingers slightly. The letters stand out—small, delicate, but undeniably there. His initials, painted onto your ring finger, just beside the diamond he placed there.

Kelvin chuckles, shaking his head. “Oh, you really my wife for real now.” You laugh as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the tiny letters. “I’ve been your wife,” you remind him. “This is just extra.”

“Extra as hell,” he agrees, but the way he looks at you is nothing but soft admiration. “And I love it.”

He kisses you then, slow and lingering, a promise pressed against your lips. And for a moment, there is nothing but the two of you, wrapped in the certainty of forever.

"Go before someone sees you," you say, caressing his jaw softly.

"Girl don’t nobody will-"

"I know I’m not hearing Kelvin’s voice in here !" You hear your sister say as you looked in Kelvin’s eyes, slapping the back of his head with an "I told your ass not to come in here" type of look.

But yeah, you’re a wife now.

@ melosliving 2025

[haveihitanerve]

BUS! I know I came back to land for a reason…

Also- for-word: um. Be prepared? Its not innocent. At all. Not about a bus. Um. yeah. Don't watch around people. Yeah. thats all the advice i can offer. Now go off into the world Penelope Jemima B. D. And show the world who you are 😭

(the amount of distress i had while watching this is insane) anyway:

Idk what AJ and Tom were saying at the very beginning but cuteness 

“You're gonna fucking love it.” Tom is an iconic king but also AJ and Sam laughing at his dumb little jokey intro will always be the cutest thing to me

“Hopefully in that order…” yes please lol

“BUS!” AJ really enjoyed that- gorgeous cackle, 10/10. Sam doesn't know what to do with that and Tom has just reverted to repeating it bc… wow

“First murder.” “last murder” goodness gracious what lmaooo

Toms little pat on AJ’s back as they started the scene 😭

AJ awkwardly scooting away as Sam comes closer but also moving closer because he needs to at all times be touching them 😭

“You don't see young people reading anymore.” Ok idk if its intentional or not but every time we get a scene like this in any way sam always starts insulting young people for being on their “tablets and iphones” and etc etc, and i don't know if its an actual grievance that he has at this point lmao(even tho we as fans connect to them thru this but wtv lol) or if hes mocking old people for their grievances and either one works for me really lol i just wanna knowww

Sam: Good book? AJ: *every book ever created ever in the history of ever leaves his mind* yeah yeah, uh u-yeah uh its the-the the- the sexbook. Yeah thats such a good book AJ, i agree

“Quite a coincidence.” AJ: *blinks, not sure what to do with that information just casually dropped with nothing else* wha-what Sam: *smirks* Tom: *offstage* :D 

Sam: I wrote the sexbook Tom: *oh did you??* *legs crossed, hand over mouth, classic tom pose that slays every. single. time.*

“Arthur big dick” Tom shaking with silent laughter, AJ almost caving with a laugh, Sam laughing as he says it. Idk shared laughter means a lot to me

“Name five of them.” No thats foul- because AJ couldn't even think of one and now you’re making him come up with fivvveee titles sam??? Thats loowwww XD

“Big Dick 1, 2, 3 ,4 and 5.” The groan of the crowd lmaooo- they really wanted to hear AJ come up with creative titles lol

Tom’s disappointed nose pinch in the corner XD

“Im just gonna fangirl here real quick-” yes AJ! Yes! Finally we are represented!!

Sam: You're a girl? *slowly removes his hand from Aj’s shoulders* AJ: *did not think that far ahead, nor that it’d be commented on* ye-yes? Sam: ah.*contemplates* this is much creepier than I thought it was LMAOOOOO (Toms little grin shaky laugh in the corner 🫠)

“I just feel like your writing- it just really gets to the heart of- of the sexual experience.” truly, inspirational work Sam

“Didn't like it.” Silence as AJ just stares at him. :| yes. Do continue. 👀

Tom and AJ’s laugh as Sam just doesn't answer XD

“He-hello?” AJ sounded genuinely concerned for Sam lol

“Where did you go?” “the sea.” regrets it before the words are even out- XD

The way they both broke, shook for a few seconds, and then straightened in sync is insane

Its like a fricking switch was flipped holy shit- laughing- then suddenly sitting upright and focused again lol wow

Toms little giggling in the corner omfg-

“Are you getting off? Whe-where are you getting off?” He heard the joke and immediately corrected lmaooo

“Well, turn to page seven!” “Ahhh!” “Ahhh!!” the whole finger pointing and like “hahahaha i knew you'd say it you shit” is amazing and i adore it

“How old are you?” Has to clarify for the scene, i appreciate it sam lol

“32. How-how-” “okay.” “okay.” yeah maybe its better not to clarify sam’s age- seeing as hes been at sea for 60 years yet was clearly an adult when he wrote the book and- lets not get into it

“Im actually getting off at the next stop-” “mhumhmh” AJ and Tom’s little smiles at his dumbass joke ahhhh i love

Also- side note- his book gets off already at page seven??? Thats pretty early right? Or am i tweaking? Actually its a book about sex called Sexbook so nevermind, ignore me

“Im actually a writer myself.” “oh really? What have you written?” “big vagina 1, 2, 3.” Sam completely folds at that, and Tom’s little smile as AJ smirks, proud of himself ahhh such dorks :) 

“But i haven't- *breaks* i haven't released any yet because *voice shakes with laughter* im too afraid. *sam casually dying in the background trying not to laugh* Im too afraid of showing my work *breaks again* cause i will be judged.” The hand to the heart is truly my favorite thing XD

“Jemima.” Sam: *shit what was my name again* AJ: Arthur B. D. Sam: *thats right thank you* Arthur B. D. WOW!!! AJ remembered a name!!! Brilliant. 

Brilliant stagecraft of leaving the bus AJ, adore

Tom gets to be in a scene now! Yay!

“Boys…” Sam thought he could sit down and relax- nope! AJ is trying, but, yep he has to stand again too lol

Tom unbuttoning his shirt just to reveal a shirt underneath is a power move holy shit-

“As the united kingdom communist part we just cant take that.” Tom squints at him: mmmhmmm. *shakes head because he does not like that* Sam: *does it back equally as passive aggressive* mmmmmhhhmmm

“Us fine upstanding, british *lacking a very substantial british accent* communists that we are.” 

I see Tom is trying to revive Xavier???? Or smth…

“Oh what did you just stutter to me?” His strut-

AJ’s tongue in cheek smile as he approaches-

That chin tilt???????? Oh ma my my-

“How did you get my name so wrong?” ahh how quickly the mighty fall😔

“Magnus o. Puss.” AJ’s almost break at the name lmaooo

“Cause i have a full magnus full of o puss.” Sam’s breaking of character so completely that he just covers his face in shame lmaooo XD

“You just wiped your nose.” “Sorry.” “you're wearing a jumper.” wow tom- just insult everything about him i guess XD AJ: 😔sorry…

Aj trying to escape the scene. Tom: don't just sit down and cry! No mercy…XD

“Flatmate.” “oh!” AJ’s relief lmaooo

Tom: I’m the other flatmate. :/ keep trying buddy, one day you'll join the scene again lmaooo

“Get on the couch.” “how was your day?” “how was your day?” “how was your daaaay?” the way theyre actually sitting really close together with Tom almost leaning against Sam’s shoulder 🫠

“You know, my writing,” “We’re big fans.” Tom casually interrupts to clarify and support- and like- i know its for the scene and they’re building a really quick relationship- but AJ actually is a writer/director and they do actually watch his stuff-😭- anyway-

Sam and Tom’s continuous looks at each other “Oooooooh!”

“Its from your time.” THERE WE GO!!! SOME OLD JOKES!!!! “Oh yeah, just us two 65 year old women with our 32 year old flatmate!” lmaoooo they're all women and not one of them originally meant to be XD

“Well we were five.” “At first it didn't do much for us.” I would hope not Tom, but thanks for clarifying…

“As we matured-” “as we matured-” “Like our bible-” “like our bible-” im loving this casual repetition they have going on, wonderful

“It was spiritual but also exciting.” “like cocaine.” “like cocaine.” Sam would know… and still with the repetitions XD

“That would be convenient to the plot.” I love how Sam feels the need to say this aloud and not just subtly hint at it- because knowing the two idiots he’s on stage with- sorry, chaos demons- they would totally let him try to build it up like that, and then never actually get the plot going in that direction lmaooo

“Oh my gosh.” Sam and Tom both cracking at his gasp- now drum roll, will Aj stick to the plot or is he throwing in a curveball???

“Is it convenient to the plot?” Tom looks like he doesn't want it to be- just to annoy Sam lmaooo

“And i looked out the window temporarily-” *almost breaks* Aj- i love you, but there are more casual ways to let this further the plot, you know that right XD

“Well this sounds perfectly plausible.” After he and Tom just destroyed any way it could be plausible

“You've cracked my code did you?” we get a snippet of Aj’s delightful laughter, beautiful

“Pass the torch up. There you go.” AJ: *finger point of “clever”* lol

“You cant go off again back to sea.” “..okay.” AJ’s break at the easy agreement lol-

AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW i did not expect a cute hug scene!!!!!! Yay!!!! 🫠💗

Ok- i will be honest- i really though Aj was going in for a kiss at first- and i kind of believe Sam thought so too with the whole “i always wanted a daughter” to solidify its purely sweet and not romantic just in case aj gets any more ideas lol

Sam’s “oh!” and hunch drop into Big Dick because he thought he was Tom’s assistant??? And not big dick, but here he is again lmaooo

Tom’s little vibrating act made AJ fold and i think its wonderful XD

Tom climbing on a chair because he needs to be taller ofc, classic

“You could look, im not wearing underwear.” Sam, not only looking, but doing the appreciate, yeah head nod is crazy

“Im everything you fear.” AJ interrupting his build up to monologue to snort is priceless

“You were just a lowly intern-” Hang on a fucking minute sam- Tom is how old???? That was 60 years ago- i don't care how young and lowly he was- he was at least a teenager which makes him a seventy something yead old man- y'know what its better not to ask

“Even you couldn't… open it.” Tom freezing in place in an effort not to laugh, Sam’s head hanging in disappointment, and AJ just having the time of his life 

THEM GENUINELY JUST LETTING/MAKING AJ WRITE THE ENDING OF HIS SEX BOOK ON STAGE IS THE BEST AND CRAZIEST THING EVER WHAAAAAAAT

Tom’s little head drop forward like “what are you saying aj? Oh you're doing this? Okaaay…” 

“Penelope.” sam. Sam. sammy. Samuel. Its Jemima. 

“Im trapped in a vagina.” Tom, AJ, and Sam all cracking at the perfectly set up joke, classic

“How is he doing this?” Sam not helping at all and making AJ come up with it XD

“He says it just- hes a ghost.” AJ has given up lmaooo

“Astral penetration.” AJ BREAKING FULLY, FOLD ON STAGE, MID STAGE!!!!

“Magnum o, full stop, puss.” Sam checking his watch to see how much he has to speed this up lmaoooo

“Hell die inside of that vagina.” *both break* XD

“Im in my office on another floor…” Tom really wanted to be in the scene and they keep forcing him out XD

“Hes astral penetrated me-” Sam fully folds on stage too- he knew, he just knew AJ would make it weird- specifically made it so that they were established as daughter-dad relationship- and yet AJ still found a way LMAOOOO

“Don't make me call security.” “Call security! I don't care!” “Security.” “JA. I am secure.” Tom baby im just not sure thats what he meant XD

“Im just going to put this out there: we have several copies.” lmaooo Aj come on!

“But then your friend would die inside wouldn't he?” AJ: *HAHAH FUCK YOU!!!* “ahh fuck.” Sam is impressed lol

WHERE DID HE GET THE SWORD?????

[drenched exit] sam: awww come on! *disappointed as though he didn't help set it up*

[door closes with a moist SMACK] Tom: *smiles because hes proud of himself*

“You've been meditating inside a big member!” why do they keep making it worse better

[juicy splash] Sam: *makes sound of disgust and disappointment*

“Its perfectly natural!” You tell ‘em king!

Physic powers?????

“You-you've pinned it to the wall.” … aj… theres no emoji or anything to convey my expression rn, but i assume its the same as yours so… yeah…

“You must challenge him.” AJ: *breaks fully because he did not expect sam to just appear behind him while hes being tortured?? by a man rubbing his own nipples*

“Feel the tension!” i feel the tension alright😭

Aj having to laugh mid battle (real) because  w h a ha t???

What is going on😭😭😭

OH MY GOD WHAT???? SAM ESCAPED THE VAGINA????

pleasedontkisspleasedontkisspleasedontkisspleasedontkisspleasekisspleasekiss

“That vagina was so acidic.” Sam please don't say things like that while you're dying in AJ’s arms- XD

“Im so happy i met you on the bus that day.” You mean literally that morning?? Or did i miss a time jump?

“The big vagina 4. *moans*” Death. 

aj helping tom up from the floor😭🫠

AND, SCENE!!! wow. That was… wow. Ok. Um. So. If you couldn't tell, i got very distressed towards the end. Like very. It was very good though, kinda what i expected. I’m sad Luke isn't there but glad he wasn't because it would have been so much worse 😭 but uh. Yeah. that was fun! So… hope you enjoyed???

@snek-of-eden you were so right, the chaos is unmatched and wow. Thank you!!

@dawn-speckled