#he's not mad he's just a little disappointed

[kashverse]

gojo calls you every name but your actual name—sweetheart, baby, pookie bear, sometimes even "oi, babe"—but never your actual name. so when he finally did, when he looked at you dead in the eyes and said it, your whole body stiffened. "are you okay?" you asked immediately, squinting at him like he was on his deathbed. "blink twice if you need help." you even reached out to check his forehead for a fever, because surely, this was a medical emergency. gojo just blinked at you, utterly confused, before doubling over in laughter. "you seriously think i'm unwell just 'cause i said your name? that's so messed up—i love it."

nanami calls you every name but your actual name—dear, love, sometimes just a heavy sigh paired with a side glance. so when he actually did, when his voice dropped and he spoke your name with the weight of a thousand bricks, you felt your stomach sink. "is this a breakup?" you blurted out before he could even continue. nanami blinked at you, his brow twitching. "what?" you crossed your arms. "you're using my actual name," you pointed out. "is this a professional resignation from this relationship?" nanami exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "no. i was just asking if you wanted coffee." but the damage was done. you spent the rest of the day side-eyeing him, just in case.

geto calls you every name but your actual name—angel, sunshine, princess, even "chipmunk" when you get on his nerves. so when he finally did, when he said your name with a certain weight, you panicked. "oh my god," you gasped. "you found out, didn't you?"

"found out what?" his eyes narrowed. "the shampoo," you admitted, guilt weighing heavy on your conscience. "i've been using your fancy shampoo. that’s why you keep running out so fast." geto just stared at you, eyes unreadable. then, very slowly, he leaned back, crossed his arms, and nodded. "that explains a lot."

"are you mad?"

"no. just disappointed." ouch.

toji calls you every name but your actual name—doll, sweetheart, brat, depending on his mood. so when he actually did, when he gritted out your name over the phone in the middle of the night, your stomach dropped. "oh my god," you whispered. "are you dying?"

"what?"

"you're out on a job, aren't you? is this a last words kind of call? should i be preparing for the worst?" toji groaned, the sound of gunfire faint in the background. "jesus. i just needed you to grab my extra ammo from the closet."

"oh."

"...but now that you mention it, maybe bring a first aid kit too."

choso calls you every name but your actual name—babe, honey, sometimes just a hum of acknowledgment. so when he actually did, when he uttered your name so carefully, you felt your chest tighten. "you're friendzoning me," you whispered, horror-stricken. "this is the end." choso blinked, his face scrunching up in genuine confusion. "what? no. i was just—"

"it's okay," you sniffed. "you wanted to let me down easy, huh? didn't want to go for the direct breakup."

"babe, i was literally just asking if you wanted extra sauce on your food." but it was too late. you had already started mourning your relationship.

sukuna calls you every name but your actual name—dove, brat, little one, sometimes even "human" when he's particularly irritated. so when he finally did, when his voice wrapped around your name with sharp precision, your survival instincts kicked in immediately. "listen, listen, i didn't do anything," you pleaded, hands raised. "whatever it is, it wasn't me. i swear. please don't kill me." sukuna just stared at you, unimpressed. "i was literally just calling you."

"yeah, exactly," you said, eyes darting for possible escape routes. "why would you use my actual name unless i'm in serious danger? is this a death sentence? am i about to be vaporized?" sukuna rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. "you're so dramatic."

"says the one who tears people apart for fun!"

[gumisbwunni]

Satoru is soooo friends to lover

tysm for the support, i want to start writing other characters so lmk who i should write! ps. ignore any typos :/

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just think about it, that disgusting slow burn, like as you gradually grow with him. he knows you like the back of hand, he knows you.

he knows when youre upset, or when youre uncomfortable because you bite the inside of your cheek, and your eyebrows slightly furrow.

and he knows when he should step up and back down. He'll let you have your space if you ask for it but he also knows you need someone to lean on, and if thats hititng his chest angrily, crying on his shoulder, ranting your ass off, hell be there.

Satoru took a liking to you because, for once in his life, someone saw him. Not the prodigy, not the heir to the Gojo legacy—just Satoru, your best friend.

you never treated him any differently, even when everyone else put him on a pedestal. You were the one person who kept him grounded, and he didn’t even realize when he started falling for you.

maybe it was the way you’d laugh at his stupid jokes, or the way you’d roll your eyes at his antics but still always have his back. Maybe it was the way you challenged him, called him out when no one else dared to. Or maybe it was just… you.

and how could you not fall for him, too? He’s Satoru, your best friend who defends you no matter what, who lets you see parts of him no one else does. The one who’d do anything for you—even if you told him to jump off a cliff, he’d probably ask, “How high?”

but there’s always been this line between you, this unspoken agreement to keep things platonic. Until… it starts to crack.

it starts with the little things—like the way his jaw tightens when you talk about your dates, or how he goes suspiciously quiet when you get dolled up for some guy he already knows is a waste of your time. He hates seeing you walk out the door, knowing the night will only end with you disappointed yet again.

and when you come storming back, heels in hand, muttering, “You would not believe the nerve this guy had,” Gojo’s sitting on the couch, grinning like he knew it all along. Of course he did. The guy probably asked to split the bill or talked about himself the whole night. Gojo always hated the way these guys never saw you the way he did.

because if you were on a date with him, you wouldn’t need to bring a purse. He wouldn’t even let you think about paying. He’d take care of everything, because he’s just that guy.

but he knows he can’t—he shouldn’t. It’s a line he’s not supposed to cross, no matter how badly he wants to.

and yet… he catches himself thinking about the way your eyes light up when you look at him. Those big, doe eyes that make his heart stutter in his chest.

he hates when you’re mad at him, but at the same time, you look so cute when you’re all fired up that he can’t help but push your buttons, just to see you pout.

he'll beg for your forgiveness afterward, of course, but there’s a part of him that loves how your attention is all on him, even if it’s because you’re annoyed.

his feelings are a fragile balance, always sitting just at the edge of his tongue.

it only took one moment—one crack—and it all spilled out. He told you everything. How much you mean to him, how the thought of a life without you is unbearable.

and now that you’re officially his girlfriend, it’s like a dam has broken. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, like he needs you to fill his lungs, his thoughts, his everything. He needs you bad.

and, it’s no surprise to anyone—not Shoko, not Geto, not Nanami. They all saw it coming from a mile away. Everyone knew. Everyone but you.

[pidgeonlaguz]

Thankfully for Flayn, Chef Deddles is an astoundingly patient teacher

[glossykissies]

clark and his gf who’s all sad because her friends keep ditching her and he’s trying to make her feel better.

love you so much on both blogs!

i like this as bsf!clark who’s in love with you so he hangs out with you and all your girl friends and is basically apart of your group — just so he can be near to you.

you’d planned a girls night, and clark was fine with that because… well, he had stuff to do around the barn anyway. you’d been excitedly rambling about it all week — buying facemasks, ordering pizza and pulling out the best girly romcom dvds to ensure a perfect night… until they all cancelled.

you were a sweet, sensitive soul who didn’t take well to disappointment, so clark’s heart sank when the phone rang, your best friend picking up only to be met with your snivels.

“look, hey, don’t cry — i’ll come over, okay?” he coo’s, his natural instinct being to coddle you and just hope it didn’t come off as patronising. you usually seemed to like it.

“what— what about the barn? ‘said you were busy with it tonight—”

“ah, the barn can wait.” he blows it off. you can’t see him but you know he waved his hand as he said it as if to convince you even more of its unimportance. “my old man’ll understand. he thinks you’re a total angel. infact i think he’d be more mad at me if i didn’t go to see you.”

you sniff, twiddling pathetically with the phones curly wire. “well… if you’re sure…”

“completely sure. i’ll be over there as fast as i can.”

clark was a little too excited, having to convince himself not to use his super speed.

he didn’t expect you to be so upset however, ending up beside you on the couch with a hand on your back as you cried. he knew it would be rude to ask if your emotions had anything to do with your menstruation cycle, he wanted to slap himself for even thinking of it — but he wondered if that had a part to play.

“i just feel like i always put in effort with people but there’s always something more important.” you rant, swiping beneath your eyes in frustration. clark shuffles closer, tentatively placing a hand on your back.

“mhm?” he urges you on in a gentle tone, hoping to ease you into a more relaxed mood.

“i was excited.” you pout, turning to face him — seeming to be at the end of your meltdown. he presses his lips together with a sympathetic smile.

“yeah, i figured. i mean, look at all this effort you went through setting this up.” clark validates you, lifting a hand to gesture to the way you’d decorated the living room with snacks and movie options, blankets strewn across the couch creating a comfortable atmosphere. “i suppose we’ll have to enjoy it just the two of us.” he grins, mindful of his tone — not wanting to seem like he wanted to take advantage of this situation, even if he secretly did.

“you’ll even do facemasks with me?” you let a smile slip, peering up at him through wet eyelashes. he grimaces like he’s pretending to think about it as you giggle, now being the one to shuffle closer to him.

“you gonna put cucumbers on my eyes?”

“oh yes, the full spa experience.” you tease, and clark can’t help but reach up and brush the final tear off your cheek with a fond smile. you lean happily into his hand, which doesn’t go unnoticed.

“i’m lookin’ forward to it.”

clark effortlessly takes your mind off things, a natural at distracting you with dumb dad jokes, debating over pizza toppings and lastly making silly observations about the rom-com you’d landed on.

you’re sleepy — clark had noticed you always got sleepy after eating a big meal, and after tearing through copious amounts of pizza you’d allowed yourself to lay on his chest, tired eyes glued to the screen as he strokes your back, afraid to even breathe wrong incase you come to your senses and crawl off him.

you couldn’t help it, he was just so big and warm — it would be a waste for him to take up all that space and for you not to use it. you figured you were close enough to cuddle anyway, thigh cocked up in a half straddle on his lap, sleepily giggling at a point he made.

“i just don’t get why the main love interest is being played by a forty year old.” he shrugs and you chortle harder against him.

“y’so warm.” you muse out of nowhere, drunk on tiredness. it had to be nearing 2am at this point; and you’d totally let your guard down. you feel his heart skip a beat against your ear.

“uh— really? oh, well… thanks. i think?”

“s’a good thing clarkie.” you shift until you’re looking up at him, faces inches away, body to body. clark licks his lips, brows furrowed slightly as tries (and fails) not to glance at your mouth. “thank you for hanging out with me.”

“y—eah.” he rasps, voice breaking at the low volume. he clears his throat, and you take an extra second longer to look at him before dropping your head back down, body getting heavier over the minutes that pass as you slowly succumb to sleep. clark stays awake, unable to sleep a wink, too consumed by the feeling of you on top of him.

[midnightfict]

Back in Our Days. Pt. 2

— 𓆩𓆪 —

𓆩 Lee Byung-Hun x F!reader 𓆪

Summary — When two, now estranged friends get caught in an unexpected encounter which triggers a feeling one thought was lost.

A/N — when I made pt. 1, I didn't think anyone would want a continuation, but here you go lol. @audiiix @sylviavf @foulbreadpaenut

read pt. 1 here

— 𓆩𓆪 —

You ran down the narrow streets, your breath visible in the cool air, clutching your coat tightly against the rain. The faint neon lights of the arcade flickered behind you as you sped towards the crosswalk, the same place where you had seen him days ago. The drizzle had picked up, soaking through your hair and clothes, but you didn’t care.

As you reached the crosswalk, you came to a halt, glancing at your watch. It was almost the same time as before. The thought struck you—what were the chances? Why would he even be here again? You didn’t know if this was a route he walked regularly or just a coincidence that day.

"Stupid," you muttered under your breath, shivering. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. A small part of you, fragile but stubborn, clung to hope.

The rain grew heavier, each drop pounding against the pavement, and soon you were drenched. As you stood there, tears blurred your vision, mixing with the rain. “Please,” you whispered into the storm. “If I find him again, I swear… I won’t leave him. I won’t break any promises. I’ll always stay by his side.”

The words came out in fragments, carried by sobs you couldn’t suppress. You had been so young back then, too naive to understand what love really was. Even while you were abroad, it hadn’t clicked that the empty ache in your chest was because you loved him. You thought that maybe you were just homesick or missing a close friend. But now, with all the distance, silence, and regret, you knew. You had always loved him.

The minutes dragged into hours. Your fingers were numb, your body trembling from the cold. Maybe this was pointless. Maybe you’d missed your chance for good. Defeated, you turned to leave, your soaked shoes splashing through puddles as you stepped onto the crosswalk.

And then, suddenly, the rain stopped hitting you.

You froze, feeling a shadow cast over you. Slowly, you turned your head, and there he was. Byung-hun. Standing beside you, holding an umbrella over your head, his face a mixture of sadness and something unreadable. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to speak but hesitated. His eyes, those familiar expressive eyes were glistening, as though tears threatened to spill.

“You’ll get sick,” he finally said, quiet but firm. “C’mon, I'll take you home.”

For a moment, you couldn’t move, too stunned by the sight of him. But then, you nodded, allowing him to guide you away from the crosswalk.

The two of you walked silently for several minutes, rain muffled by the umbrella above. You clung to your coat, your mind a storm of emotions. But when you glanced at him, his expression was enough to shatter your composure.

“Byung-hun,” you said, your voice trembling.

He turned to you, confused, but before he could ask what was wrong, you broke down. Tears streamed down your face as you struggled to form the words.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve told you I was leaving. I should’ve thought about how you felt, but I didn’t. I thought that if I told you last minute, you wouldn’t have time to get mad at me, but… I was selfish. I was wrong.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself, but the words kept pouring out. “You must hate me now, and I don’t blame you. I’d hate me too.”

For a moment, he said nothing, and the silence was deafening. You braced yourself for his anger, his disappointment—anything but the warmth you felt when he suddenly wrapped his arms around you.

“I could never hate you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Not even one little bit.”

Byung-hun pulled back slightly, his arms holding you close as he looked deeply into your eyes. His gaze softened, and with a tenderness that made your heart ache, he raised a hand to gently caress your face. His thumb brushed away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch warm against your cold skin.

You let out a small chuckle, though it came out shaky, your tears betraying the happiness behind it. But despite everything, you were smiling. A smile so bright and full of life, the same one you used to give him years ago. The one he thought he’d never see again.

And then he smiled back. A real, unguarded smile that felt like it carried the weight of all the time you’d spent apart. Your joy spread, melting the distance that had once separated you both.

“I’m sorry too,” he said softly, his voice laced with regret. “For overreacting when you left. I… I was hurt, but I should’ve listened to you instead of shutting you out. For years, I’ve thought about that moment, wishing I could go back and undo it all. Wishing I could’ve been better for you.”

His words made your chest tighten, but it wasn’t pain this time. It was something deeper, something more hopeful.

Byung-hun’s eyes flickered down to your lips, lingering for a brief moment before darting back to meet yours. You saw the hesitation, the vulnerability in his expression, and it made your heart race.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid of breaking the moment.

Your breath hitched, and the question caught you off guard. Your cheeks burned, and you instinctively averted your gaze, too embarrassed to meet his. But after a second, you gave a small nod—so slight it might have gone unnoticed if he wasn’t paying attention.

But he was.

His hand cupped your cheek as he leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the remaining distance between you, letting the world blur around you.

His lips met yours, soft and warm against the cold rain-soaked air. It was hesitant at first as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to have this moment. But as you melted into him, his grip on you tightened ever so slightly, the kiss deepening into something more certain, more real.

It was everything unspoken. Years of longing, regret, and love poured into a single moment. The rain still fell around you, the umbrella slightly tilting as neither seemed to care. All that mattered was him, you, and the connection that had always been there, waiting for this very moment.

When the kiss ended, you both lingered close, foreheads gently touching as you tried to catch your breath. Byung-hun let out a small laugh, low and disbelieving, he couldn’t believe this was real.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice warm and affectionate, though there was still concern in his eyes.

You laughed softly, your lips still tingling from the kiss. “Guess that’s what I get for standing in the rain waiting for you.”

He smiled again, shaking his head slightly. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re late,” you teased, earning another laugh from him.

Byung-hun stepped back just enough to adjust the umbrella over both of you, his hand slipping into yours as he pulled you closer. “Let’s get you home,” he said, his tone gentle but firm.

This time, as you walked together, the silence wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was filled with warmth, with everything you didn’t need to say because the connection between you had already spoken for itself.

[missunsympathetic]

conclave old men yaoi hot takes that I need to get off my mind:

lawrence: service top who prefers to bottom, he is so soft and so gentle and of course he will serve those he loves even if deep down he desires to just be taken care of I think

tedesco: power bottom but he likes to pretend he is some big top dom but let's be real he doesn't have the vibe it takes for that. when he enters a room no one feels any air of superiority or danger or power or authority, just kinda annoyed by him. he kinda wants to be shown his place

bellini: also power bottom but unlike tedesco he sees no shame or flaw in that. he is all bark no bite and I think he would like someone to just tell him what to do every now and then

benitez: the only actual top here. the soft dom kind. the only one of those men who enters the room and you actually get a feeling of authority from him. and he doesn't even need to be commanding in order for them to follow his words, he just kinda has that vibe

now you can see by these takes how difficult it is as a bellini x tedesco enjoyer to make this dynamic work in my head when I wholeheartedly believe both of them secretly like to be dominated a little but that's for me to figure out in the meantime I will just continue to read lawrellini fics

[citylighten]

Let's Talk Lost Love

(aka how Zoe ends up with Michael)

Abhijit and Zoe grew up knowing each other due to their mother’s close friendship, but they were not close. For college, he moved to Del Sol Valley with aspirations to become an actor, however, this was an experience he largely failed in. He relocated back to San Myshuno after a few years, and began to work as a copywriter at an advertising agency. This is when he and Zoe reunite and mutually find one another attractive.  They felt a sense of understanding with one another. Zoe was a recent college dropout who had disappointed her parents for being aimless, and Abhijit could never get his mother’s approval. The two accepted each other for who they were (mostly. Zoe often picked on him for having a new personality influenced by Del Sol Valley) In due time they began living with each other. This went on for three or four years: he was her first big love, her first time, he was her everything and everyone knew it. Like, it was clear that any day he would propose to her. They had already reached a point where they (playfully) discussed having kids. Then one night, Zoe begged him to go to the local corner store to pick up some candy for her, and he didn’t come home. He died. Zoe underwent deep despair, she sincerely wanted to die, she couldn’t wrap her mind around how he was gone so easily. She wouldn’t leave her apartment. She blamed herself for wanting a stupid candy bar. Then she decided to leave the city and become a van-lifer. Her parents and friends all disapproved and thought this was a radical shift, but Zoe kept insisting she was fine and something she always wanted to do. But you know, this was really just a means for her to run away from home and avoid the past.

She gets some spontaneous tattoos, travels place to place having misadventures and uncomfortable experiences. She acts happy but her mental health is in the gutter. It's not uncommon for her to look over Abhi's social media pages and just grieve the fact he wasn't even thirty.

She meets Mitchell, J, and Gavin but despite two of these men being attracted to her, Zoe has no interest in romance or sex. Not much later, she meets Michael who was the first guy she was really into in a long while. The minute she saw Michael’s eyes and smile she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time. She grew close to him and loved that he had a similar adventurous spirit. She couldn't help but chase the feeling she felt with him. Then of course, in less than a year she has little Rohan. 

But sometimes, she was still thinking of Abhijit. Sometimes when mad at Michael this early in their parenthood journey she would have an intrusive thought like, “Rohan should be Abhi’s son” or sometimes it would simply cross her mind, “I wonder how my kids with him would’ve looked.” However, as she and Michael grew together with their family, the more deep her love for Michael became. She realized her heart had enough space for new experiences, loves, and memories.  

The downside of this? One of Zoe's worst fears is Michael not coming home one night. Her worst fear is outliving him because at the moment she doesn’t know how she’d cope with losing her husband. She’s able to go back to the Spice District. She’s able to talk to Lavina, but looking at Rahul? That’s nearly impossible.

Now as for Mayor Chopra, she's still haunted by Abhi's death because she knows her parenting was riddled with errors, and she pities the pain Zoe went through. So when she sees Rohan and Kiara in the Spice District this winter she's thinking: "those could've been my grandchildren if things were different."

When Rohan's a teen and works as the mayor's protege, Lavina lets this slip. But that's another tale for another day.

[creatie123]

CHOI SU-BONG/THANOS X PREGNANT!READER PART 3

Part 1 Part 2 part 3 Part 4

Tw: rape, manipulation, drug use, strong language, emotional whiplash, dead dove do not eat, some angst, some comfort, Thanos being a bipolar mess

~~~

“Thanos , dude are you in here? They said it's meal time. Are you with that chick?” His friend calls out.

Su-bong leans forward and whispers in my ear to not leave his side the rest of the games, before taking my hand and pulling me off the toilet. “Nam su I’ll meet you outside my brotha..” he says helping me get my jacket back on. 

There was a bit of grumbling about his name before the door closed again. Su-bong pulls me in and places a gentle kiss on my lips. Then another and another, each one more harsh than the last. My mind was spinning while I made out with my ex boyfriend in the bathroom of the death games, “su-bong,” I pant.

“Say my name again señorita” I stifle a laugh at the old nickname.

“Su-bong we should go.” I say between his attack of kisses.

He groans before leaving one final bruising kiss on my lips before taking my hand and leading me out of the bathroom and back into the room where we just made it to get our meals.

I look up to say something to su-bong but he is or their. I look around for his purple hair and find him talking to Myung-gi. Shit. I know damn well what they are talking about and I watch as su-bong shoves his food into his face, and Myung-gi tackles him to the ground.

“Piece of shit! Get off him, dickhead. You fսcking asshоlе.” myung-gi

“Fսck off.” su-bong exclaims

“You little bitch!” nam-gyu yells.

Everyone starts murmuring around the room.

“mοthеrfսckеr! You know how much money I lost because of you, fuckface? fսck you! Let me get a hit in too. You fսcking…” 

Myung-gi groans

They continue to fight and wrestle around on the ground until 001 breaks them up and beats su-bong and nam-gyu down. The whole room erupted with applause as the two idiots make their way back over to me

I look at him disappointed. “Don't look at me like that senorita he had it coming. mother fucker mad us loose everything.”

He notices my boxed dinner discarded to the side and his mood immediately shifts. “Senorita, you need to eat to stay strong.” he says looking at my belly.

“It smells awful.” Even before my pregnancy I never liked kimchi.

He picks up my box lunch and takes the egg with his chopsticks bringing it up to my lips. I look at the egg then him before opening my mouth to take a bite of the egg.

“I’ll eat the kimchi ok babe? But you gotta eat the rest ok?” I nod, taking another bite of the egg that he still holds up to my lips. Besides being understated, the meal was good.

Feeling full I lean back against the wall. Su-bong's friend, nam-gyu joined us complaining about not being able to find us. The same voice as the first game rings out over the intercom saying lights out will begin in ten minutes. I settle into my bed turning to face the wall so my belly is protected against everyone in the room. A body settles down beside me and I can tell it is su-bong by the tattooed hand that wraps around my waist to rest gently on my stomach.

The voice on the intercom rings out over the room, “Lights out will begin in 3… 2… 1…” the lights go out and the room is bathed in black. The only source of light is from the large piggy bank in the center ceiling of the room, and a small window where a triangle guard watches over us. I settle in su-bongs arms letting my tired eyes close as I drift off to sleep.

I'm woken in the middle of the night to soft kisses on my neck. “Su-bong?” I whisper to not wake anyone else. He props himself over me and looks down at me.

“Did I wake you senorita? So sorry.” he says, planting an open mouthed kiss just below my jaw line. I know for a fact that it left a mark.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“I’ve missed you so much, seeing you knocked up with my kid is so fucking hot. Tell me you miss me too. I know you missed this girl.”

“Su-bong, are you serious? There are hundreds of people here.”

“So what, I'll take you wherever and whenever I want, they would be lucky to have a show of you moaning for me.” he says, rocking his hips against mine.

“Su-bong please we can't do this here. Plus the b-” im cut off with his hand covering my mouth.

“Did I not speak clear enough for your stupid little pregnant mind could understand I’ll take you wherever. And. whenever. I fucking want and you will thank me for it too, you dirty bitch.” he says.

His other hand trails down my body and he shoves himself down my pants  to begin rubbing my sensitive clit. 

“You're already wet, you dirty girl. You always loved this didn’t you, me forcing you to cum on my hand. On my cock. You fucking love it. Say you love it.” he grunts in my ear.

I shake my head no, tears welling in my eyes as my legs shake. I grip his wrist and try pushing his hand away, he lets go of my mouth to slap me across the face before immediately covering my mouth again to stifle the cry of pain. “The fuck do you think youre doing pushing my hand away you stupid slut. You're lucky i'm giving you my attention back, if you just shut up maybe I’ll even let you cum.” he says

His hand moves my soaked underwear aside and my back arches as painful pleasure shoots to my stomach. My cries are stifled by his hand over my mouth, and it does not take me long to reach my orgasm. “Fuckign slut. You didn't even last ten minutes. You were that desperate for me huh? don’t worry you will have all my attention from now on. I'll even be generous and let you rest for tonight, we need you to be strong for the games after all, huh senorita. Don't expect me to go gentle everytime I still need to teach you a lesson for trying to leave me.”

Panic shoots through my chest. And I start to struggle against his hold again. He shushes me kissing my forehead then my temple then finally he moves his hand and kisses my lips. “Now go to sleep, you need your rest senorita.” he says, settling behind me again.

It takes me a while to fall back asleep but when I do it feels like it is over in minutes. The morning music plays out as the lights turn on, I turn onto my back and immediately notice su-bong is not there. I feel a pained sense of relief waking up alone.

We are all told to line up and make our way to the next game. I look around and see 222 talking to myung-gi. I walk up to them to hear the last part of their conversation about him wanting to talk to her when they get out of here.

I tap her on the shoulder and she whips around to face me, a look of relief flashing across her face. 

“Want to walk together?” I ask

She nods and I follow close behind her as we walk towards the next game.

When we are all gathered in the room the voice over the intercom, “Players, welcome to the second game. We will begin shortly. This game will be played in teams. Please take the next ten minutes to divide into groups of five. I will now repeat the instructions. This game will be played in teams. You will be given ten minutes to divide into teams of five.”

Player 222 and I look at each other and start walking around. I can hear su-bong calling out my name but I ignore him. Soon we come across players 001, 546, 388 and 390. We walked up to them asking if they needed any more players. They look at us 388 and start to fiddle with his shirt.

“I’m sorry we only need one more.” 001 says.

I step behind 222 and push her forward gently, “please keep her safe she is pregnant.”

“But so are you,” she says, turning to me.

The men look between us dumbfounded. I smile down at her, “it's ok I’ll find another group. Stay safe ok?” I say before giving the men a pointed stare and walking away.

Anxiety fills my stomach as the clock counts down with five seconds to spare, I look around, as the clock hits one a hand grabs my arm and pulls me into their chest.

~~~

I'm honestly getting so tired of writing Thanos as mean, I might have Celina steal his drugs so he isn't mean for a bit but who knows, maybe I'll do a chapter of just angst, the possibilities are just endless, anyhoooo hope you guys enjoyed, please leave any feed back you may have or any suggestions you would like to see going forward. my requests are also open so let me know if there is anything itching your beautiful brains!

til next time

-creatie

[alittlegiraffe]

Hi! I would love to request Eminem fic :)

The reader was popular singer who was gonna perform at Coachella. Eminem knew about the reader and all. After the performance Eminem was saying nice to things to reader. Eminem wanted to ask the reader out, but the reader declined due to rumors of him not wanting to date..? He tried ever single time to ask the reader out ( no smut please) thank you for reading this. I deeply appreciate it. 🥰

Title: 4 Times Eminem Tried to Ask You Out (+1 Time You Finally Said Yes)

Hi lovely! Hopefully this is close to what you wanted? It's pure fluff 😂

1. Backstage at Coachella

The energy backstage was electric, but you were unfazed. This wasn’t your first Coachella, and you knew how to command a crowd. The lights dimmed as your name was announced, and the crowd roared. You caught a glimpse of him as you passed the VIP area—Eminem, sitting casually with his team, his eyes following you like a spotlight.

Your performance was a hit, and the buzz afterward was palpable. Backstage, you found yourself face-to-face with him, his posture casual but his eyes sharp.

"That was incredible," he said, his voice low and unmistakable. "I’ve been following your stuff for a while. You’re... insane in the best way."

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a little flutter in your chest. "Coming from you, that means a lot."

He shifted his weight, scratching the back of his neck, looking more like Marshall than the persona of Eminem. "Listen, I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna grab a drink sometime. Talk music, life, whatever."

You hesitated. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him—how could you not admire him? But the tabloids had painted a picture of Eminem as a man uninterested in dating. You didn’t want to get tangled in something complicated.

"That’s sweet, but I think I’m good for now," you said with a polite smile. "But thanks for the kind words."

You saw the flicker of disappointment in his expression before he nodded. "Yeah, no problem. I get it."

---

2. An Industry Party

Months later, you bumped into him again at an industry event. The room was buzzing with celebrities, but his presence was magnetic. He approached you with a drink in hand, his smile crooked.

"Hey, superstar," he greeted, his tone playful. "You’re not still mad I didn’t join you on stage at Coachella, right?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "Not mad, but you definitely missed out."

The two of you fell into easy conversation, talking about music, fame, and everything in between. And then, he did it again.

"You know, we should hang out sometime. No pressure, just two artists talking shop."

You gave him an apologetic smile. "I don’t know, Marshall. You’ve got a bit of a reputation."

"What reputation?" he asked, leaning in slightly.

"You know what I mean. The whole 'Eminem doesn’t date' thing."

He frowned, clearly frustrated. "You believe everything you read?"

You shrugged, not wanting to push it further. "Let’s just keep it friendly."

3. A Studio Session

It wasn’t surprising that your paths crossed in the studio. You were both perfectionists, and the best producers wanted to work with you. When you walked into the room and saw him there, you couldn’t help but smirk.

"Do I need to start avoiding studios now?" you teased.

"Or maybe it’s fate," he shot back.

Over the course of the session, you couldn’t deny how easy it was to work with him. He was funny, sharp, and every bit the musical genius you’d expected. When the session ended, he lingered.

"You know," he said, leaning against the doorframe, "I’m not as complicated as people make me out to be. If you gave me a chance, I think you’d see that."

You sighed, hating how genuine he sounded. "Marshall... I just don’t know if it’s a good idea."

"Alright," he said, hands up in surrender. "But I’m not giving up yet."

4. The Late-Night Call

It was nearly midnight when your phone buzzed. You frowned at the screen—Marshall’s name lit up. Against your better judgment, you answered.

"Hey," you said, your voice soft with sleep.

"Sorry if I woke you," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "I just... I wanted to say I get it. Why you’ve been hesitant. I know I don’t have the best track record, and I don’t blame you for being cautious."

His vulnerability caught you off guard. "Marshall..."

"I’m not saying this to pressure you. I just... I want you to know I’m serious. About you. About getting to know you."

For the first time, you didn’t immediately shut him down. "I appreciate that," you said softly. "Maybe we can talk more about this sometime."

+1. The Time You Said Yes

It had been over a year since Coachella. In that time, you and Marshall had become friends. Real friends. He’d stopped asking you out, respecting your boundaries, but his feelings were always just beneath the surface.

You were sitting on his couch, laughing about a terrible reality show you’d been watching, when he said something that caught you off guard.

"You know, I’m really glad we’re friends," he said, his tone sincere.

"Me too," you replied, then hesitated. "But I think... maybe we could try something more."

His head snapped toward you, his expression a mix of shock and hope. "Wait, are you serious?"

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I’ve seen enough of the real you to know I was wrong before. If you still want to, that is."

He didn’t hesitate. "I want to. Absolutely."

And this time, you didn’t say no.

[fairytales-and-folklore]

Chapter Fifteen: When The Morning Breaks Us

The first thought that crosses Abbie's mind upon waking is that she's completely and utterly screwed. Sunlight, bright and blinding, pours through her bedroom curtains, a not-so-gentle reminder that it's officially morning, that last night hadn't merely been a good dream gone sour, and that eventually, she's going to have to leave the cozy comfort of her bed and confront Crane about what had happened between them last night. 

Abbie wishes that she could just blame it all on the champagne, but the truth is, she hadn't had nearly enough to warrant making such a stupid mistake, in spite of the faint drumming inside her head, along with the delicate thrum of water-starved blood coursing through the veins behind her eyelids, teasing the promise of a hangover. Abbie pulls the covers up over her head, rolls over onto her stomach, and buries her face in between her pillows, groaning miserably as she tries, desperately, to find the will to get out of bed.

Careful to avoid the loosened, creaking floorboards, Abbie creeps toward her bedroom door, wondering if Ichabod is already awake and pottering about the apartment…if he'd even slept at all. Then again, the guy's practically got super-human hearing, so it hardly matters if she makes any noise…he'll likely already know that she's up for the day. He'll probably even have your morning coffee ready and waiting for you, she muses with a guilty jolt to her heart. 

Abbie sighs, slides on her slippers, pulls a fuzzy, dark purple bathrobe overtop her pajamas, and slowly, carefully, opens the door, wincing at the agonizingly loud grating noise that it makes as it scrapes across the hardwood floor. Her eyes grow wide as she spots Ichabod, hunched over a breakfast tray in the living room, quietly sipping his morning tea. He stirs at the intrusive sound, locking eyes with Abbie's for just a moment before she's bolting to the bathroom and locking the door behind her. Within seconds, she's got the shower running on full blast, drowning out Crane's long, sorrowful sigh on the other side of the door.

• • •

Ichabod stands at the kitchen island, stirring a perfect blend of milk, cream, and sugar into Abbie's morning coffee, before setting the mug on a breakfast tray, filled with plates of freshly-flipped chocolate chip pancakes, scrambled eggs with a generous helping of cheddar and mozzarella cheeses mixed in, and a small side of bacon, burnt to a crisp, just the way Abbie likes it. 

After countless hours of lying motionless on his bed throughout the night, eyes boring into the ceiling as though it'll unravel and reveal a simple set of answers to all of his problems, Ichabod had finally decided that enough was enough, and had gotten up, decided upon making Abbie a pick-me-up breakfast, a peace offering of sorts, to let her know that what she'd done last night was perfectly fine (and, he now realizes, very much wanted.) It had taken him far too long to sort everything though, to let go of the foolish notion that it would somehow be disrespectful to his late wife, were he to act upon his affections for another woman. 

It's what Katrina would have wanted for him, after all…to move on from her, to find love in the comfort of someone else's embrace…and it wasn't like Abbie was just any woman…no, Abbie was so much more than just another seemingly random person whose path he had happened to cross. She was clever and wise and selfless and brave…she was his partner in crime, his companion in the upcoming battle against the forces of hell, his other half in the tragic role they, the chosen witnesses, must play. 

In this strange, mad world, Abbie is everything to him, and he's honestly surprised, and a little bit disappointed in himself, for having not realized it sooner, for having not taken notice that he'd already fallen so deeply, so irrevocably, for her, long before she'd ever kissed him. A furious blush creeps into his cheeks at the memory, and he nearly drops his delicacy-laden tray, carefully balanced on one hand, intent upon bringing her breakfast in bed.

He's about to knock, to request entrance to her bedroom, his balled-up fist poised at the ready, when he hears a disgruntled groan from the other side of the door, indicating that she is most definitely not in an amicable mood, nor willing to be placated with food, and thinks better of it, backing away in cowardice and setting Abbie's breakfast on the coffee table. 

Ichabod settles onto the couch with his steaming cup of herbal tea, taking slow, quiet sips as he practices what he's going to say to her, running every possible string of lines through his mind, mouthing them out loud, and then shaking his head when the words that spill from his lips disagree with the tangled mess of emotions swimming about inside his head.

When she finally does emerge from her bedroom, it's only for a split-second, her expression a perfect impression of the clichéd deer-caught-in-the-headlights, the moment Ichabod's gaze finds hers. And then, without warning, she's sprinting into the bathroom and locking the door behind her, intent upon stalling their interaction for as long as she possibly can. Ichabod sighs, sinking back into contemplation, far too nervous and jittery to even think about touching his own plate of breakfast. 

Twenty minutes later, Ichabod hears the water switch off, hears Abbie stumbling about the bathroom, brushing her teeth and gargling with her (in his opinion, overpoweringly minty) mouthwash, all the while waiting for the telltale click of the bathroom door, signaling that it's okay for him to approach. He places his empty teacup on the coffee table and saunters over to the hallway in between her bedroom and bathroom doors, promptly waiting for her, his posture ramrod straight, hands held in twisting knots behind his back.

Abbie strolls out of the bathroom, humming along to a soft, celestial piece from the Nutcracker Suite that's been playing on repeat inside her head since Christmas, and gasps, clutching her chest in panic as her eyes fall on Crane's tall, lanky figure, standing just outside her bathroom door. In a last-ditch effort to run from her responsibilities, Abbie makes a mad dash to her bedroom, but Crane is far too quick, far too graceful, and within seconds, he's got her cornered, fixing her with an imploring stare.

"I…" he starts, a quiver to his voice that Abbie has learned to associate with what she likes to call Caffeinated Crane, wired on too many energy drinks. "I've made you breakfast."

"Um…thank you," she says, tone softening infinitesimally. "But I'm not really all that hungry. Sorry…um…I'll just go, and…"

"That's fine," he counters. "We can just…talk, then."

Abbie's forced smile falters as she purses her lips, refusing to look directly at him.

"Crane, can we please not do this right now? I'm not…I'm not decent," she warns, tugging at the hem of her robe, suddenly made uncomfortably aware of the fact that she's got nothing but a bra and panties on underneath her fuzzy violet robe. 

Without his permission, Crane's eyes follow the delicate curve of her exposed thighs, all the way down to her scarlet-painted toenails, his lips slightly parted, breath hitching for a fraction of a second, before snapping out of it and immediately fixating on her eyes.

"If it makes the situation any less awkward, all I am wearing underneath this bathrobe that, apologies, I seem to have stolen from you, is a pair of cotton pajama bottoms. Unfortunately, the unkempt mess of hair on my chest and stomach does very little to shield my bare skin from view. In my era, the both of us would have been deemed quite naked, and thus, inappropriately dressed…therefore, I suppose we are, as you would say, even," he replies, the tiniest hint of a tremble lurking underneath his voice.

"It doesn't, but thanks for trying," she deadpans, clutching her robe tighter around her chest. In fact, it only serves to make the situation that much worse. 

Unfortunately for Abbie, Crane is stubborn and resolute, determined to remain right where he is until she agrees to talk to him. He swallows back a bout of nervous laughter, stealing shameless, covert glances at an image he'll likely never be fortunate enough to witness ever again, taking note of the tiny moles and freckles that decorate the skin stretched across her collarbones, the way her hair splays across her shoulders in a tangled river of curls, at war with the residual chemicals in the products that had tried their damnedest to straighten them, the way the water trickles down the surface of her skin, painting wet patches against the fabric of her bathrobe. 

Abbie chances a glance at him, gives him a wounded look, before huffing out a vexed, impatient sigh.

"I…okay, you're not going to let me out of this, are you?" she asks, mortification rising in her voice like a rolling storm. "I'm sorry, okay? I really am. I misread the signs…I was drunk and I made a mistake, and…I know, that's no excuse, because it was totally out of line, and really stupid, and if I could go back in time and take it back, I would…but I can't. All I can do is assure you that it will never happen again…so can we please forget about it now?"

The words come tumbling out of her mouth in a cascade of clandestine, emotional bruises, ones he hadn't even realized she'd been carrying until now, irrevocably etched in the downward curve of her lips as she silently pleads with him to just let this go, to forget that something so personal, so intimate, had ever happened between them, as though it were easy, the disheartening promise of it won't ever happen again piercing his skin like the points of a thousand needles. 

He simply won't allow it…won't allow either of them to feel like this, to suffer in the interest of a misguided sense of self-preservation and intangible, antiquated terms of what it means to be honorable…not anymore.

"No," he says, a surge of confidence racing through his veins as he steps toward her. "Enlighten me, Lieutenant, for I am curious, and, consequently, altogether baffled at my own mind for having taken such great measures to prevent the true desires of my heart from being heard. For some reason unbeknownst to me, the only concept that seems to trouble me is why you think it would be, in your own words, out of line and stupid, to have kissed me last night?"

The little self-satisfied, teasing and taunting smirk that spreads across his lips at that last line is enough to send her over the edge.

"Where do I even begin, Crane?" Abbie asks, her features growing dark and dangerous, voice rising in volume with every word. "You're a man from the 1700's who fought alongside George Washington in the Revolutionary War. You took battle axe wounds to the chest from a headless horseman, who just happens to be death itself, apparently, and lived to tell the tale." 

"Actually, no, you did die, but you were resurrected and buried in an underground crave for two hundred and fifty years. And as if that isn't enough to warrant both of us a one-way ticket to the nuthouse, you and I are somehow connected by some magical, biblical tie, making us capital-W witnesses in the impending apocalypse."

"Oh, and then there's the fact that you're married…to a self-sacrificing sorceress who used to be part of a scarily powerful coven…or you were, I guess…I honestly don't even know anymore…it's all way too complicated for me to process, even after months of living with you, working case after case with you, spending nearly all of my free time with you, and not even because I felt like I had to, but because I wanted to…because, despite all of that, I still…I started to…" Abbie trails off, steadies her breathing, and shakes her head, swallowing back a small sob until it's merely a painful lump in the back of her throat.

"Regardless, it just…it would never work," she says, her voice a mere whisper now, an echo of what it was just moments before. Ichabod pauses, lips poised on the edge of his next clever string of words, mulling them over inside his head, choosing them with delicate care.

"Yes," he says softly. "I suppose, to any normal person, those facts would be quite troubling. But you and I do not exactly fit the definition of normal, now do we? You are exceedingly extraordinary, Miss Mills. So extraordinary, in fact, that you have been chosen as a witness to the beginnings of the potential end of days…and you and I are the only ones who can prevent its course. I am alone in this strange new land, Lieutenant, save for you. You are the only tether that I have to this world that keeps me sane." 

"Katrina is at rest now, and I have made my peace with it. Yes, some part of me will always love her, and there will always be a place for her in my heart, but I cannot battle any longer with the indisputable reality that you do now as well. The only stupid course of action would be to continue to try to deny it, even if neither of us have the faintest clue as to what could become of it. Alas, we should not allow fear of the unknown to hold us back from what we desire." 

"All that I know and hold to be true is the fact that you are here with me now, and despite the oddities and hardships cloaking the mad world into which I have been gracelessly thrown, I would not see myself removed from it if it meant I would have to leave you."

Abbie's breathing stills, heart thrumming an uneven rhythm in her chest as her blood pulses through her veins, heating the surface of her skin until she feels like she's glowing, every nerve ending in her body lighting up like a live wire.

"Crane," she says, but it comes out more like a whisper, like a euphoric sigh, and before she can say anything more, he's closed the space between them, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her in for a soft, sweet kiss, swallowing the rest of her words with a stifled moan as he presses his lips against hers, gently backing her into the corridor until they're pressed up against her bedroom door. 

Not wanting to waste a single second, Abbie slides her hands up the length of his arms, curls her fingers into his hair, unfastening his ties and letting it fall loose against the curves of his face, before weaving them underneath the thick fabric of his robe, fingertips tracing intricate patterns across his bare skin. 

"Cold," he gasps into her mouth, chuckling softly as Abbie takes the opportunity to slide her tongue along the edge of his lower lip, earning another soft, low moan. 

"Oh, but don't worry," he growls, teasing a trail of kisses from her neck to her collarbones, connecting the constellations of her freckles and moles with his lips. "I'll soon fix that." 

Without another word, Crane tucks his hands underneath her thighs, fingertips gently digging into her skin as he lifts her up, and Abbie follows suit, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, arms laced around his neck as he carries her across the threshold, bedroom door closing with a resounding click as they slip through to the other side.

They never do make it to breakfast.

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You Always Want What You're Running From

Sleepy Hollow » Ichabbie

Title: You Always Want What You're Running From

Author: fairytalesandfolklore

Fandom: Sleepy Hollow (Masterlist)

Relationship: Abbie Mills x Ichabod Crane

AO3 Rating: Mature (a complete collection of author's notes, inspiration credits, content warnings and tags can be found on AO3)

Summary: When Abbie invites Ichabod to come live with her, the last thing she expects is for him to start feeling like home.

She'll tell herself, over and over again like a mantra, that it's because she feels indebted to him, that she feels bad for him, that it'll make their casework much easier if she can keep a constant eye on him, that it's convenient.  But really, it's because, in spite of everything, in spite of an impending apocalypse that only they, the unwilling witnesses, can prevent, he keeps her grounded, keeps her sane. For reasons she can't explain, she trusts him.  She hasn't trusted anyone like this since Corbin…and now, Crane is all she has left. In his company, she feels secure. Protected. Cared for. They've only known each other for a short while, and yet…Crane's company feels like home. Besides…how bad could living with a man from the 1700's truly be?

Read On AO3 | Read On Tumblr: Chapter 1 » Chapter 2 » Chapter 3 » Chapter 4 » Chapter 5 » Chapter 6 » Chapter 7 » Chapter 8 » Chapter 9 » Chapter 10 » Chapter 11 » Chapter 12 » Chapter 13 » Chapter 14 » Chapter 15

[httpiastri]

i'm actually so pissed that i don't even know where to start..... i've been trying to ignore this for hours but i just can't ☹️

dear everyone on f1blr, i kindly ask you to take franco's name out of your mouth if you don't know him. do not talk about his story if you don't know it. do not call him a pay driver, do not compare him to drivers whose dads are the owners of an f1 team. do not talk shit about him if it's all going to be made-up rumors.

you may hate james vowles as much as you wish to, i don't give a fuck. williams are doing some real random and stupid shit. but is any of this franco's fault? no!! if you'd actually seen him and taken more than 5 minutes trying to learn about him, you'd see how sweet of a person he is and how much he deserves this opportunity, so don't go around spreading lies about it.

[dykedvonte]

I hate the stretch lines in the front of Curly's uniform because that means the devs rushed to make a model in like a month or so and thought "They gotta at least know he has huge knockers, gotta know he's got back pain." Cause like what is the thematic importance of his tits having overhang?

What responsibility is that representing? Breast reduction? It shows an inherent greed in his character due to the excess and heshouldletmeholdone and that he clearly is blinded cause if he tries to look down his damn ladder all he's seeing is his own cleavage.

[addicted-to-the-knife]

I think it's very important that we bring back this inherent understanding that actors are also just some fucking guys (gender neutral)

[mgu-h]

about carlos telling the story of something he forgot to do, is it possible he was talking about the "It's Friday then" radio? i know last year or something lando talked about how they both planned to sing it together but something happened with carlos' radio and he wasnt able to do it (or he forgot lol)

that's possible haha and if so it makes me love the resigned little shrug that carlos mimicked lando doing after carlos explained that he forgot

[steeltwigz]

Saw a post abt the Sonic movies that was like "plz filter negativity posts better" which is GOOD AND TRUE you should be doing that. Ok. But then they kept going to imply that the criticisms of the Sonic movies are all entirely Personal and Ignorable and not like. Usually abt the horrific copaganda, misogynistic writing, and Paramount's disgusting zionism.... Guys a lot of ppls problem w the Knuckles show wasn't JUST a bastardization of Knuckles' character or thinking Wade was annoying or whatever, but like was focused on the grotesque Zionist message from that one episode 😭😭😭 you can enjoy something and still recognize that it has intrinsic and huge glaring flaws and talk abt them. I think actually you Should be speaking up abt the misogyny, zionism and propaganda the SCU supports and discusses, ESPECIALLY if you like the movies! Its important to be able to recognize these things in media and admit that even media you personally enjoy can be deeply problematic, instead of hiding it away and pretending those HUGE FLAWS aren't issues actually....

[heckyeahponyscans]

Generally I think it's fun when older characters get reused or reinvented for a new generation but man, G4 Tirek is so lame.