#hell she probably already got with someone but

[shaunamilfman]

running back home (to you?)

pairing: Rhiannon Lewis x f!reader summary: You come home from work to see Rhiannon's gotten busy in your bed. Half of you wonders how Rhiannon got in, and the other half wonders how many fingers she's using. note: 18+ obvi. credit to @soffsh2 for the prompt and like half the plot i'm ngl.

You look at your front door suspiciously as you realize the deadbolt is already unlocked, but you had to rush out the door so quickly this morning you figure that you probably just forgot one of the locks. Besides, you’ve had the kind of day where you don’t even care to question it. If you walk in and half your things are missing, you would just call it downsizing as long as you got to go directly to bed.

The sigh of relief you let out as you close the door seems to take the weight off your shoulders almost instantly. The satisfying thud of the door slipping shut is only matched by the elation you feel as you finally slip your shoes off. You dump everything besides your phone on the table, heading straight to your room with the intention of passing the hell out. Only, there seems to be someone already there.

Rhiannon lays back on your bed, wearing nothing but one of your button-up work shirts and her black panties. The top three buttons are undone, revealing just enough to give you a good look at the sharp ridges of her collarbones. It's far too large for her, pooling around her waist where her thighs are propped up, and yet it fits her like it should’ve been hers instead. 

The waistband is slightly askew on her hips, pulled down just enough that your eyes linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out longer than you should. You only manage to tear your eyes away far enough to land on her wrist, poking out of her waistband as her hand moves rhythmically beneath the fabric. It’s unhurried, almost deceptively casual, as every flex of Rhiannon’s fingers against the fabric makes your heart pound in your chest.

You notice Rhiannon, but she doesn’t notice you. Certainly not with each heavy breath that leaves her lips, interspersed by breathy little whines that make you want to cross the distance between you even as the question of how she got into your apartment strikes you. She’s utterly focused on herself, and you can’t blame her for it.

It’s not like you can look away either, not when her head is tipped back on your pillow, mouth agape with her hair spread perfectly around her. Her lips glisten with saliva, her bottom lip trapped beneath her teeth in a fruitless attempt to keep herself quiet. It doesn’t work, not when you can hear her this clearly. You can’t bring yourself to interrupt her, not with the way her stomach clenches as she rocks up into her hand.

Her feet press into the mattress for leverage, toes curling as she lets out a shaky murmur of your name. Soft, breathless, and yearning.

You jump back, terrified at being found here watching her. You knock something off your dresser, wincing as it clatters to the floor, all but announcing your arrival. It’s not like you were the one doing anything wrong; it was your bed for Christ’s sake, but the feeling remains. Only when Rhiannon lets out a shocked gasp as her hand stills do you realize what just happened.

Rhiannon didn’t see you standing there. Your name. She said your name. Not in surprise, not in horror. She was thinking about you.

Her head turns slowly on the pillow, her eyes glassy as she meets your own. There's a moment of shock as she sees you, something anxious passing over her face before both are gone. You have a sudden desperate need to look away, struggling to look back at her as the faint, wet sounds of her fingers moving make their way to your ears. Rhiannon doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t make a single move to cover herself.

If anything, her legs spread wider with the knowledge you're watching, her free hand sliding up to cup her chest through the fabric of your shirt. Her panties stretch taut around her hand, leaving you with absolutely no doubt what’s happening. You can see each quirk of her fingers, each time she grinds up against her palm. It draws a whine from her, her back arching up off the bed as she plays herself masterfully.

You look away, starting to back out of the room. This was just too much. Even when your eyes aren’t on her, the subtle creak of the mattress beneath her hips is enough to make you want.

“Look at me,” she says quietly. 

You don’t turn your head at first–can’t. You know that if you look at her now, you’re going to want to touch her, to push her hand away and replace it with your own. But this is crazy. It’s crazy! She broke into your apartment and is now touching herself in your clothes. In your bed. You’ve got to say something–

“Look. At. Me.” Firmer this time, each word sending shivers down your spine. You break, watching Rhiannon in all her glory as she stares right back at you. She grins, slow and dangerous, as she revels in your attention. Rhiannon only grows bolder, like she’s putting on a show just for you.

“Come here,” she commands, and you take a step forward before you even realize what you're doing. 

There's just something in her voice. She murmurs your name again, soft and desperate, and you step even closer. Just close enough for a hand to come out of Rhiannon's shirt and curl her fingers around the waistband of your pants. She tugs you closer, none too gently, focused more on getting you here than how she does. You can see it now, that wide-eyed look on her face with something close to devotion as your knees hit the mattress. 

You climb up onto the mattress next to her at her insistence, scooting forward till your knees brush her arm. The fingers inside her move slowly, and you can feel the way the muscles in her arm flex along with it. Rhiannon gasps, slowly rocking up into her hand. It's different now with your weight on the bed next to her, how the mattress dips beneath your knees and draws her closer to you. 

She moans as your hand tentatively reaches out to press against her leg, tracing your fingers along the inside of her thigh before grabbing firmly and squeezing. Her muscles jump beneath your touch, knees pressing closed for a moment, deciding whether to trap your hand before she pries them open again. Her thighs tremble from the effort of keeping them apart. 

Rhiannon lets go of your waistband, reaching up to grab your chin and tear your eyes away from where her fingers pump away between her legs. 

“Don't look at that. Look at me.” A demand. Could you look away even if you wanted to? Not with the way her eyes stare up at you. 

You don't take your eyes away from hers, even as you feel her hips start to roll faster as the tension grows to a fever pitch. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips parted. The muscles in her thighs flex rapidly beneath your palm, even more telling than the increasingly whiny noises leaving her. 

“Look at me.” Breathless now, desperate. But no less demanding. You dig your thumb into the muscle of her thigh. She lets go of your chin, spreading her legs wider as she shoves a hand down to rub her clit. 

“I am,” you murmur, your voice steady as her voice starts to crack and her muscles start to tremble.

“Look at me.” This time you hear it for what it is: a plea. 

Rhiannon's eyes are piercing, like she's looking right into the heart of you. What does she see when she looks at you? You wonder. Everything about her is so intense, so real. It's the most honest you've ever seen her.��

Her eyes start to slip shut as she gets close. 

“Look at me,” you say. “Look at me when you come.” 

Rhiannon moans, eyes snapping back open to look back at you even as they try to flutter shut with each jerky movement of her hands still working away. The words are almost too much for her to handle. Her moans reach a fever pitch, her back arching off the bed as she presses into her own fingers with another cry of your name. It's the most praise you've ever received from such little work on your side. 

Finally she stills, head going limp against the pillow as she breathes heavily. You sneak a glance down, watching the way her panties snap back against her hips as she drags her hands out of them. 

Her fingers glisten in the light of your bedroom, and for a moment you want to draw them up to your lips. You probably would, if not for the way Rhiannon pops them into her own. Immediately a feeling of disappointment wells up in your chest, not soothed even by how hot she looks doing it.

She smiles weakly at you as she rests her hands on her stomach, scooting further over toward the wall as she looks at you wearily. Like she’s half expecting you to explode on her. There's a part of you, however small, that wants to. Instead you cautiously lay back in the space she’s none too subtly cleared out for you. 

It was definitely the right answer, a pleased sigh leaving her lips as her arm wraps around your stomach. She’s got one leg thrown over yours before you even realized she moved, bare thighs brushing against yours and making you wish you thought to take your own off before you climbed into bed. Her head rests on your chest like it’s always been there, breath warm and steady where her mouth presses against your shirt. You stay quiet for as long as you can manage, long minutes that seem to stretch on forever, but you can’t quite stop yourself from asking.

“How did you get in my house?”

Rhiannon stiffens.

“There’s a key on your front porch.” She doesn’t even miss a beat, giving an answer so practiced that you want to believe her.

No, there wasn’t. 

There also wasn’t a window broken, so she couldn’t have…

Your eyes drift toward her clothes, neatly folded and sitting on top of your dresser. Her keychain is there, just as bare as you remember it being. Only, there’s one more key there than you remember seeing the last time you caught sight of it. And she had been oddly secretive about it lately, shoving her hands deeper in her pockets whenever she saw you were looking at her.

You almost groan as you remember losing your keys last month. The way you turned the office over for hours looking for them only to find them sitting in your jacket pocket at the end of the day. Now that you think about it, Rhiannon had been conspicuously missing all day. Not that anyone but you seemed to notice. She’d even blushed when you brought it up to her as you were leaving, something close to awe on her face as you commented on her absence. The reaction was so strange you hadn’t noticed she hadn’t even told you where she had been all day.

Did she make a copy?

She seems to read the disbelief on your face, her smile cracking beneath the strain. Her grip on you tightens, fingers digging in enough that you fear they���ll bruise before letting go like nothing happened. 

Before you can ask something she finds equally stupid again, she sits up, her leg settling over yours as she sits up in your lap. She's warm and soft where she's pressed up against your thigh through the fabric of your pants. . 

Her hands rest on her thighs, drawing your attention down to bare skin covered loosely by the shirt that sits far too low on her thighs for your tastes. Teasing, more than revealing. You can just barely see the dark outline of her panties peeking through the thin fabric, waiting like a secret to be uncovered. 

Rhiannon grins smugly as she leans forward, grabbing your hands and leading them to her hips as she experimentally rolls them down against your thigh. Her eyes slip shut for a moment as your hands settle, fingers splayed out across her skin underneath her shirt as you help her rock back and forth. It's slower than you want to move her, but Rhiannon seems to want it that way. 

She reaches for the bottom of her shirt, playing with the hem between her fingers. You can't take your eyes away from it, and she knows. God, does she know. Slowly, achingly slowly, she slips the bottom button through the hole. It doesn't reveal anything you couldn't already see, but the anticipation almost has your hands shaking where they hold her hips. You have to remind yourself to breathe. 

You don't have to remind yourself to keep Rhiannon's hips moving. She's more than happy to remind you, clicking her tongue disapprovingly each and every time you get too distracted to remember to guide her rhythm. All it takes is a move to rebutton her shirt to have you swallowing hard and gripping her hips hard enough to bruise as you drag her forward. 

You curl your thumbs into the delicate waistband of her panties without thought, feeling the lace and the smooth skin of her hips brush against your skin. They feel impossibly soft and thin, a barrier so fragile and yet so completely capable of keeping you from what you want. The fabric stretches out from the tension as you pull it taut, offering just a glimpse of what lay beneath.

She gasps softly, her face flashing with something mischievous as she pulls another button through. It had to be some kind of torture designed specifically for you with the way she's started from the bottom up. 

Of course, it had to be from the bottom. The way her fingers move from button to button keeps the fabric snug against her skin. No reveal, no reward. You're left only to imagine what will be revealed when she finally reaches the top. 

The shirt already hangs loosely on her shoulders, mocking you with the way it billows around her. There's just a hint of the curves you know lie beneath. It would certainly only take another button or two at the top to have it falling off her shoulders, slowly cascading down her arms and pooling around her waist. rock

You want to reach up and hurry it along, to unbutton each and every button and drag your fingertips down her shoulders as you pull the shirt off for her. But you don't. You aren't sure what Rhiannon would do, but you're not sure you want to find out. Not with the smug way she looks down at you, eyes wild with something you couldn't name if pressed. This is her game. 

At least for tonight. 

But your patience is rewarded at long last as she reaches the last button. She pauses for just a moment too long, just enough for you to know that she’s playing with you, before pulling the last button free. After all the buildup, it was almost anticlimactic–almost. Your heart stutters in your chest as her shirt falls open, revealing bare skin that you’ve been imagining since you first found her in your bed tonight. She hasn’t shrugged it off yet, not when that would be too simple. It’s all there now–the curve of her collarbone, the soft expanse of her stomach, the swell of her breasts. So close, but so out of reach.

She leans backward, making sure she has your attention as she finally lets it fall with the smallest of shrugs. The shirt hangs loosely at her sides now, pooled around her waist as it catches on the crook of her elbows as she grabs at your forearms. The perfect leverage to start grinding down harder, each roll of her hips bringing another damp glide of her panties against your thigh. 

The soft friction of it was driving you insane. You want them off now.

There's the start of something that looks like bruising around her ribs that makes you momentarily curious about what she could've gotten up to to get it. Rhiannon's always been the quiet type, and up until you got home, you never could have imagined her doing anything but going to work and back home with an occasional trip to the bar after work. You would need to reevaluate your understanding of just who Rhiannon Lewis was, but that could come later.  

Rhiannon looks like she could be in a painting, the shirt framing her body in a way that's entirely too artful. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, lying against her skin so perfectly it almost looks staged. 

If you saw her in a museum you wouldn’t think twice.

You want to reach out and touch her hair, to run your fingers through it as you pull her gently toward you with a hand on the back of her head. Right now you want to kiss her more than you wanted almost anything. Her grip on your arms was too tight to pull away from unless she let go, her nails digging crescent-shaped marks into your skin. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, at a lack for any better words. Who needed thoughts anyway? Certainly not you. 

Rhiannon pulls one of your hands up, brushing your fingers slowly up her side as she brings it to her chest. Her other hand keeps yours firmly held in place on her hip, letting you feel each and every movement. You're not sure where to look, not with her sitting on your thigh looking like that. 

She squeezes her hand tighter around yours, as if reminding you of your handful of her breast. Right. Rhiannon sighs when your thumb brushes blindly against her nipple, guiding your fingers to roll her nipple. 

With a nod of approval, she lets go, resting her hand on your stomach as she leans forward. The change in angle causes a choked noise to leave her lips, not helped at all by the way you're touching her. You've grown confident in a way that seems to unnerve her, showing a glimpse of the Rhiannon you're far more accustomed to. That, more than anything else, is what relaxes you: knowing that not everything you knew about her had been flipped on its head. 

You look down at her hand as her fingers flex, nails digging into your skin through your shirt. It's a thoughtless reaction, but something immediately catches your full attention: a smear of what looks oddly like blood beneath her nails.

“How did you…?” You ask, eyes focusing on her nails. Rhiannon glances down, a flash of surprise crossing her face. She starts to move her hand away before thinking better of it. 

“Is that what you want to ask me right now?” Rhiannon asks. 

Is it your blood? You wonder, resisting the urge to check the state of your arms. You wouldn't be surprised to find your blood running down your skin in rivulets and staining the sheets beneath you. A small price to pay when you think about it. 

Rhiannon rolls her eyes, bracing a hand on the bed beside your head to rest her weight on it as she leans closer. Rhiannon cups the side of your face, her thumb brushing a stray strand of hair off of your face before she's leaning in to kiss you. 

Her lips brush against yours slowly, betraying an inexperience you hadn't quite grasped before. 

Your hands reach up to touch her hair, retreating back to cup the back of her neck when Rhiannon visibly flinches. You can't help your reaction at finally getting a taste of her after wanting it so badly. Rhiannon pulls away for a breath, a quiet laugh breathed against your lips at your eagerness as you try to chase her back. 

“What did you say?” She asks, running her thumb over your lips. 

“Huh?” You ask elegantly. 

“Never mind.” She sounds smug. “Couldn't have been that important.” 

You nod. Whatever she says. 

She seems to relish your noise of disagreement as she pulls back, watching the way your lips turn into a frown. 

“Rhiannon,” you murmur, watching the way her breasts move with every sway of her hips. 

“What?” She asks breathlessly. 

You tug at her panties, pulling down at the waistband as you add, “Off.” 

Her answering grin is wicked.

Right at this moment you would give her anything she wanted, so aren't you lucky that all she seems to want is you? Your hands. Your touch. Your attention. Your eyes on her as she stands up to pull her panties down her legs, letting them fall to the ground on top of your now discarded shirt. 

Rhiannon doesn't settle back down on your thigh like you were expecting, or even on your hips, which would have been your second guess. No, she settles back high enough on your chest that she can only have one destination in mind. You almost cry tears of joy. 

And you wanted to come home and pass out tonight. What a change. 

She raises an eyebrow in question, her head tilted to the side just so. You nod thoughtlessly, grabbing at her thighs and helping her shuffle up to bring her within reach of your mouth. You wrap your arms around her thighs, squeezing tightly as she grabs at your headboard with one hand. 

Rhiannon groans at the first tentative touch of your tongue, rolling her hips before you've even got a chance to really get into it. You don't complain, not that she would pull herself far enough from your mouth for you to be able to. You've barely begun, and she's already chasing the ending. 

You want her so bad. So eager that it's made you sloppy, desperate to make her fall apart now that you've finally gotten a taste of her. Rhiannon certainly doesn't mind, not with the way she stares down at you like you've done something noteworthy with each greedy lap of your tongue. You've made it your new goal to taste as much of her as possible. 

The creaking of the bed beneath you, the sound of Rhiannon's nails scraping against the headboard as she held on for dear life, the little sighs and groans she let out, the sound of her flesh against your tongue–it all blended together into a perfect cacophony of sounds. You could die here and still be happy, pinned beneath her as you worked your jaw between her legs forever.

And then she speaks. 

“Good,” she murmurs. “You look good like this.” 

Rhiannon reaches forward to lace her fingers in your hair, barely getting a handful before her hand suddenly goes lax. Something strangely like fear crosses her face before it's gone just as quickly, her fingers almost trembling as she gently brushes her fingers through your hair instead. 

“Does that–” She starts anxiously, “Is–is that okay?”

You squeeze her thigh absently, drawing her closer to your mouth to get even deeper. She laughs breathlessly, letting herself be led if only for a moment. 

You've always been a passionate person, fully dedicating yourself to the task at hand. It often leads to getting caught up in your work long after everyone else went home or showed up. It's part of what endeared you to Rhiannon: the simple comfort of knowing she'd still be sitting right there at the desk in an outfit similar to the day before when you got back from whatever lead you were chasing.

Long story short, you've never minded getting lost in your work. Especially when it involves Rhiannon's clit against your tongue while she takes anything and everything she wants from you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Like that, just like that. Don't fucking move.”

She doesn't have to worry about that. There's not a single place you'd rather be right now than exactly where you are. You're not even sure you remember how to breathe at this point, not with how enthusiastically she's taken to riding your face. 

Her thighs clench the sides of your head like she’s desperate to bring you closer, like the distance between you is too great for her to accept even now. You couldn’t get closer than this. Not when she surrounds you completely. All you can feel is her, all you can taste is her, and all you can smell is her. You’re lost in her, relentlessly giving her everything you have. 

She takes even more.

Her head tilts back, her thighs quivering as she starts moving erratically. Each confident roll of her hips becomes frantic, jerky motions that do less to satiate and more to frustrate her. You slide your hands up her thighs to grab her hips, picking back up where she left off. The effort is rewarded with a whimpering moan and some incoherent words that sound sort of like your name.

She comes with a sharp cry, almost trembling as her breath comes out in rough huffs for air. You’re just holding her up by this point, her muscles twitching and quivering beneath your hands as you savor every moment of it. You don’t stop, not yet, not till she half-heartedly pushes at your forehead and slumps forward to lean against the headboard.

Rhiannon doesn’t pull away entirely, half because of how weak her legs seem to feel and half because she doesn’t want to. She strokes your hair lazily, seeming to enjoy the feel of it beneath her fingers. You can hear her catching her breath again above you, even as you have to prop her hips up to breathe yourself, but you don’t entirely mind.

“Mmm. Good job,” she murmurs hoarsely.

Oh?

You preemptively tighten your grip on her thighs as you take her clit into your mouth and suck, keeping her in reach when she instinctively jerks away. She cries out, hand fisting in your hair as her thighs shake. 

“Fuck, wait–”

A loud whine, and then another as you roll your tongue over her. It looks like it takes everything in Rhiannon to even stay upright, but she does nothing but urge you on even when words seem to be beyond her. 

…

She’s gone by the time you wake up.

You’re as surprised as you are disappointed by the realization, flopping your head back on the bed as you turn your alarm off. You bury your face in your hands for a moment, quietly mourning her absence, before rolling out of bed. 

There’s a note on your bedside, right beneath where your phone sat charging.

See you at work. XOXO.

P.S. Hope you like coffee :)

You glance up, looking for anything else out of place. Your eyes narrow as you catch sight of the shirt Rhiannon stole from your closet, folded up neatly on top of your dresser. Right there in plain sight: a bright lipstick mark displayed prominently on the collar. 

You grin.

[lonesilverw0lf]

I had this other idea right after I posted the first Mom Friend idea, only to find several more posts already made! It’s all amazing work too, I’m kinda jealous. Either I’m slow as hell, or y’all write too damned fast! Either way, didn’t wanna throw this away so here it is. Please enjoy!

Mom friend(now shortened to Mama) and Tomboy are sharing a cup of tea when Tomboy gets sleepy all of a sudden. Mama leads her to a room where MC has been knocked unconscious and dropped into a bed. Quickly putting Tomboy into the bed with MC, she covers them with a blanket and closes the room.

Goth, standing right by the door: Do you have to do that? And how did you snag MC in the first place? I didn’t even know he was here.

Mom: Oh MC was actually because of Bully and Track Girl bringing him in. It was Bully’s idea apparently. I was surprised too. Almost made my eyes open. I just wish MC wasn’t literally dragged in with all those lumps on his head. I’m sure Bully thought it was necessary, and he’s probably right, but still…

Goth: That still doesn’t explain why you essentially drugged Tomboy and locked them in a room together. Trying to play matchmaker?

Mama: What? Can you blame me? Those two are cute. Oh I sure underestimated the strength of the sleeping herbs in the tea, that’s on me. Not like I could tell how strong they were with MC being half unconscious when I gave some to him in the first place. They’ll both be out for the rest of the day at least. They both need their rest and if anyone can help MC with his anxiety it’s- wait. Are you jealous?

Goth: Jealous? What? Now you’re being dumb.

Mama: You’re jealous that they’re cuddling like we used to! You’re feeling lonely!

Goth: Now you’re delusional.

Mama, squishing Goths face: If you wanted some attention you just have to ask! It’s not like I can deny my precious twin sister anything in the whole world!

Goth, swatting Mamas hands away: No! Go away! We haven’t done that since we were like seven!

Mama, wrapping Goth up in a hug: It’s perfectly normal to want some loving! Studies show that a healthy mind and body needs a minimum of four hugs a day for just surviving, eight for maintenance, and twelve for growth. When was the last time you got hugged since we were summoned here? You must be deep in hugging withdrawal!

Goth, groaning into her hands: What did I do in a past life to get cursed with you as a sister?

Mama: Oh don’t be a Grumpy Joe! You know you love me!

Goth: He was such a good kitty. Had the stupidest face.

Mama: We’ll I’m sure it wasn’t his fault he had a medical condition that made his face scrunch like that. Cmon, let’s go take a bath! I’ll wash your back~!

Goth, squirming out of Mama’s hug: No. Get away from me you perv.

Mama, smirking and in a dramatically flowery story voice: “‘Oh please Edward, not there! Not now!’ Shania moaned, ‘We can’t be doing this!’ But Edwards hands refused to stop, as if they had a mind of their own. Her breath hitched as he-“

Goth, now mortified: You read that?!

Mama: You’re the one who posted it on wattpad ya goob! And those two other websites! You also should do a better job looking after your creative journal. The amount of places I’ve found it out in the open, oh dear~. I must say, for someone who claims to be ‘one of the darkness’ you are pretty innocent in love and even your perverse fantasies are mild! Oh wait, you did write that one about that modern Duke and his ‘fun room’. Although that was pretty mellow too. Where did you get the inspiration? I know you haven’t read 50 Shades, so where did you- did you sneak into mom’s stash again?

Goth, trying to pull her hair out: Argh! You and dad both! That’s it! You just volunteered yourself to be my first cursed subject! Where’s that rat?! I need a sacrifice!

Mama, grabbing Goth by the shoulders and pushing her down the hall: You’re so tense! It’s not like I told them! Cmon, after a nice hot bath I’ll treat you to a nice massage~! Oh? And perhaps an adjustment, your cervical vertebrae don’t feel right. What have you been using for a pillow?

Skater Boy, seated at a table with Queen Bee and Flower Girl, his eyes following them and locked onto Mama’s dump truck of an ass: Now I’m jealous.

Queen bee grabs him by the ear: Now you knock it off! It’s disgusting to see men lusting after Mama! Especially a slacker like yourself!

Skater grabs her nose: Don’t gimme that crap! I see you girls ogling her just as much as any guy! Probably even more so since you all share a locker room! And don’t act like you don’t drool whenever us guys have to train without shirts on!

Flower girl: He’s not wrong Bee, on both counts. And it’s not like any of us would turn down one of Mama’s massages either. Still boggles my mind that those two are twins. They look nothing alike and I get mistaken for any three of my sisters all the time! My younger brother a few times too.

Skater, rubbing his ear: Eh wait til he hits puberty and then that’ll stop. Genetics are weird sometimes. I still get told that I look like my great uncle when he was my age. It’s more shocking to see Goth make those kinda faces. Only Mama can pull anything out of her. She’s so cooly collected with anyone else.

Bee, rubbing her nose: Me and my cousin are often mistaken for sisters too. It might help that our moms are sisters in the first place. Oh Skater, what were you doing out so late last night for?

Skater: Hm? Oh right! Thanks for reminding me. Here Flower, I was checking out the area for those weird plants that you were talking about.

Flower: What weird plants? I’m don’t- *le gasp* a whole bag of knucklebrom weed?! With the seeds and the flowers and roots and everything?!

Skater: MC helped me figure out where to even get some. He was just as lost as to why you wanted them in the first place.

Flower, smiling manically: Oh all the potions I can make with you~! Mix in some iodine, some powdered crows beak, maybe if I- *continues rambling on*

Skater, deadpan to Bee: She is such a Maomao when it comes to her plants and alchemy it’s not even funny.

Bee, equally deadpan: How has she not seen Apothecary Diaries? That would be right up her alley. Kinda looks like her too.

Skater: Throw a kimono on her, give her a haircut, get rid of her glasses, and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Bee: If Netflix ever wants to do a live action of that show, and part of me prays that they won’t, but if they do they better cast her as Maomao.

Skater: You’re kidding? We talking the same Netflix?

Bee: Nah, you’re right. They’ll completely fuck it up.

~

Some minor backstory to the new characters

Skater boy is a slacker without a real direction in life, stays out of trouble but isn’t very dependable. Chill and easygoing, largely nonthreatening, puts in the bare minimum of work to have a good time or just vibe, got that 90s ‘yo dudes’ surfer vibe. This trip has been giving him the kick in the ass he needs.

Flower Girl runs her family’s flower shop and greenhouse with her siblings. Busy as a bee type, but only among plants and on a schedule who follows the rules to a tee. She’s becoming more confident and now is trying new things, even bending some rules. Having an alchemy instructor that’s half mad due to a few too many screwed up recipes blowing up in his face will do that to someone. Just hope she doesn’t absorb too much of his insanity.

The standard 'entire class gets isekai'd to a fantasy world and the outcast MC is basically discarded' anime setting, where the MC, now assumed dead, decides to instead help the class of Heroes in the shadows, making sure they live up to what the people need.

However, the entire class knows that he's alive and are hellbent on dragging that son of a bitch back into the spotlight and to give him the recognition he deserves.

(And maybe because he was basically the entire class's Little Guy™.)

[jazztato]

Reader giving the hazbin men flowers and chocolates even a plushie for Valentine’s Day :)

Valentine's day Gifts (Alastor x Reader)

May contain spoilers from season 1

It was valentine’s day in hell, people probably wouldn’t think sinners and hell borns celebrate a holiday that’s all about love, well that’s where you're wrong, they absolutely love the mushy holiday, but in hell valentine’s day involves a bit more blood and real beating hearts, it’s hell what did you expect, most would be disgusted by the thought of eating actual beating hearts but in hell it’s what sinners call a delicacy, most sinners and hell borns already had someone to spend valentine’s with, even the princess of hell had a girlfriend to spend valentine’s with, as for (Y/N) she had no one, she’s been a sinner for quite some time now and she had never had anyone to give her love to however she did have a crush on a certain radio demon,  but she never had the courage to ask him out since she was afraid of rejection especially from a powerful demon she didn’t know what she would do..  But she didn’t want any other demon to take away what she wanted, and she wants Alastor the radio demon to be her valentine.

(Y/N)’s P.O.V

It was valentine’s day and I was thinking of how I would get Alastor to be my valentine he’s a demon of mystery and a very tough person to please, he always rejects the demons that try to ask him out and if they don’t take no for an answer they usually end up dead and I didn’t want that to be me. I actually worked at the Hotel where Alastor resides I got a job there just so I could be close to him, even though I don’t even think he acknowledges me or know my name, today Alastor was kindly forced to decorate the hotel for valentine’s day when he detested the thought of the hotel getting decorated in such a way and what’s the point of decorating for a day when they are just going to be taken down the next day.  I ended up agreeing with Alastor but that just made things worse because Charlie the princess of hell chimed in and said I should help decorate as well, I didn’t know if this was her punishing me or her way of torturing me with embarrassment by making me work on the decorations with the one man that I have a crush on!  Ugh I just want to dig a hole and bury myself out of embarrassment, this is too humiliating, I had to grab the Decorations from the closet full of crazy holiday decorations; Halloween, Christmas, even thanksgiving decorations!  It was just a huge mashup of different decorations it was horrifying to be honest, I tried to find the valentine decorations but behold to myshort ass they were on the very high shelf I let out a groan as I tried to reach for the box but I failed miserably as I kept trying Alastor appeared behind me and reached for the box his chest was pressed against my back, my cheeks started to flare up at this feeling, I watched as he got the box down and held it in his hands, I turned around and looked him in the eyes he had his usual smile but this smile was a tad different, he was looking down at me with a smile of amusement, apparently my struggling was entertainment to him, I let out a huff not liking the fact that he thought it was funny to see me struggle, I was about to snap at him but I bit my tongue staying quiet not wanting to ruin my chances with him, if I even have any chances with a demon like him, as we finished decorating I took a closer look at our work and it was just complete chaos I let out a small shiver as all the decorations where mitch matched or just really old to the point that they are falling apart to just turning into dust themselves. As the job was done, I decided to go for a walk but that’s not the only reason why I wanted to leave, I wanted to figure out what to get the creepy yet charming radio demon for valentine’s day.  I walked down the streets of hell as there was so much violence along with death. I thought I would be used to this by now but no matter how many times I see this it makes me queasy, the only reason why I ended up in hell was a complete accident…  Ok maybe not a complete accident, I knew what i was doing but it actually happened on Valentine’s day I caught my boyfriend of 6 years cheating on me with my best friend let's just say my anger got the best of me as I killed the both of them, do I feel bad doing it, maybe, do I regret doing it, hell no!  They deserved it and had it coming, as I walked down the streets I saw a teddy bear that looked as if it came from a horror movie but that isn’t what caught my eye, what caught my eye was that the plus could be customized to a person’s liking I decided to step into the shop and purchase the nightmare teddy along with a few other customizations before heading out to figure out what else to get a scary demon for valentine’s day.

I walked past a couple sweet shops but knowing Alastor for as long as I did I knew he wasn’t a huge fan of sweets or anything sugary, I do know he loves meat especially if it’s raw, I also know he loves Jambalaya but I’m not a cook so I can’t really make him one of his favorite foods so I decided to just stick with meat and form it into the shape of a heart, but I don’t want to just get him meat I also need a flower substitute as well because I’m not sure if he’s a flower guy, Hell doesn’t exactly have much flowers except for the ones that might try to bite back, or might try to eat you. I recently found out his staff he always has with him was broken during the battle, so I decided to fix it for him!  But there might be a problem. I don't know how to fix a magical tool, but I have a few theories on how all I need to do is try and get his broken staff without him noticing but since the staff is a part of who he is it might be a bit tricky. I decided to get the meat first luckily the butcher shop had plenty of raw meat left I bought a couple and started mashing them together and forming the meat into a heart I placed the now hearty meat into a box and was thinking of ways to get a hold of Alastor’s staff, luckily I was able to ask the princess to distract Alastor as I barrow his staff for hopefully an hour, she was overly thrilled when I told her what I was doing and managed to get Alastor out of the hotel, I snuck into his room finding the broken staff on top his bed I gently picked it up and ran off with it so I can fix it but it took longer than I expected to fix a magical artifact I was frustrated and on the brink of giving up till at my last attempt the staff was finally sealed and put back into one I started cheering as I couldn’t believe I fixed a magical item I received a message from Charlie saying if I was finished yet because Alastor was starting to become restless and irritated I started to panic a bit but gave her the ok indicating I was finished and to bring Alastor back to the hotel I quickly gathered everything rushing back to the hotel. Once I stepped foot inside I was panting trying to catch my breath I felt like collapsing onto the couch and take a long nap however I couldn’t I heard voices from outside the hotel indicating Charlie and Alastor had returned, the doors slammed open and there was Alastor he looked as if he wanted to kill someone I let out a worried gulp as he glared daggers at me, did Charlie spill the beans about everything?  Or did Alastor just put two and two together I was scared but I knew I had to toughen up I walked towards the angered demon and shoved everything into his hands before speed walking away my heart was pounding so loud that I swore the other residents could hear it, I entered my room and screamed into a pillow at the suspense and horror of what Alastor might do to me if he didn’t like the thoughtful gifts, the teddy bear was transformed into a plush version of him with a mini staff, the meat was heart shaped and raw , and the staff that was once broken was now fixed as if it was never broken it had a little bow on it, I stared at the ceiling my thoughts going wild as I didn’t know what was going on in the radio demon’s head.

Alastor’s P.O.V

I was angry at the thought of Charlie distracting me by taking me out of the hotel. I knew it had to be a part of her plan; Charlie always ends up agreeing to things too quickly before thinking I had better things to do then spend a few hours on the streets of hell during this tedious holiday. When I finally returned I was not happy I was mad in fact I ended up slamming the doors open and there she was, (Y/N), she was standing there looking all innocent I wanted to rip her to shreds but was stopped when she shoved some things into my arms I was about to respond asking her what in hell’s name did she give me but she had quickly walked away before I could even speak, I was even more irritated then before I looked down at the things she gave me; One was a mini me made from a plush bear it came with a mini staff as well like the one I had before it broke, I narrowed my eyes before looking over at the 2nd gift it was a box why would she give me a box if it’s filled with sugary sweets then I will burn it in hellfire but when I took the lid off the box I was surprised that inside didn’t contain anything with sugar or chocolate but instead was raw meat shaped like a heart I was generally surprised at this, she knew I despised sugary treats so she got me raw meat how….. Thoughtful.

Last was my 3rd gift I didn’t think much of it but when I saw what it was I was generally surprised at what I held in my hand, It was my staff, once broken now in my hands fixed I tried to hide the surprised expression in my reaction I now realized why (Y/N) asked for Charlie to distract me, it was so she could sneak into my sleeping quarters to take the broken staff and fix it, but how in hell did she manage to fix it, that is something that truly is a mystery I looked over towards her room curious of the things she would do for me, in all my time of being in hell no one has ever gone this far to make me feel loved, yes multiple do already but this was different, these gifts were put together with real love, and I might just need to pay her back, the night is still young and I will cherish it well.  I let out a laugh as I vanished into the shadows. 

This one wasn't my greatest again I love Alastor but he's a difficult character to write for, but I hope you enjoy

[cboffshore]

know that I forgive you, but I never will forget/unmoved by the attention/so I reverse The Sentiment/the closure that I gave you, I regretted it -

/you’re gonna get what you deserve.

"The Sentiment" is two things: one, Skybound finale fanart, and two, official art for the finale of Witness, the OSSAS finale fic I am desperately behind on. As such, it contains OSSAS elements, but you don't need to have read any of the series for it to make sense. You can't actually read the segment this is based on, because it hasn't been fully written, let alone published. This is me trying to push myself to write more by hyping myself up.

"The Sentiment" is also just an artistic experiment. It started off as a Skybound themed style study of the LS Dunes Violet album cover, and at some point it got away from that intention, but I'm not sure when. The caption lyric and title are also from that album's title track, "Violet," which I've linked at the top of these notes.

I have to wonder - how long did death last for Nya? How much of her decision was it to take Jay's hand after the resurrection and reversal? Was there a moment where she regretted her final words, or resented herself at all for letting a crack form in her independence? I want to answer that in Witness, but for now: Nya gets some blessed alone time.

A quick note on the scenery: for some reason, on the rare occasion I write about the Grasslands afterlife, I reflexively fill it with rolling hills. I do this because I absolutely loathe completely flat landscapes. If you put me into the canon Grasslands, which is flatter than a sheet of fresh paper, I'd probably register it as hell. So: I'm keeping the hills in. I've already written them into my draft, and I'm sure there's some variance in that realm somewhere, right?

As for the lack of floating land chunks in the sky, I like to think the FSM might personalize the Grasslands any time someone shows up, and it stands to reason he'd know Nya wouldn't feel at peace around floating landmasses considering, well... you get the idea. Also, I didn't want to draw them. I like the empty expanse of the sky as a sort of blank slate for Nya - a sign of her impending resurrection and do-over.

Speaking of the reset.... that orange on the horizon is canonically-backed. The reset storm has to reach her somehow, after all - and now my job is to catch up on the WIP so I can write these visuals in.

Special thanks to my NWOD buddies for general hyping, and especially Ajax for help with the grass texture.

[urlocalboynoah]

THIS IS NO ONE'S REQUEST, I was just bored as hell honestly, and I seriously think Miko needs more content, especially with her guardian(s). So, here's a little something as an apology for not posting in months (I lost my password..) This is probably terrible, maybe even OOC so I apologize in advance...

This was written while listening to Teenage girl, by Cherry Glazzer. You can listen to it too while reading if you want.

¹ ❥ ☆ Mini Fic²

♰ Transformers Prime³

ˋˋ SFW ☆

Teenage girl ♡

“urrrrrrrgh. “ Miko growled, sitting lazily on the chair. She was in detention again, for two whole hours, and everyone knows that for a girl such as Miko, staying two hours in the same room, doing either homework or nothing, was impossible. As the teacher looked away for a second, she pulled out her phone, sending a text into her guardian’s comms, giggling. He didn’t have to know she was in detention…

>> Class done early. Pick up ? pls

be here in five mins <<

>> thx ur the best xx

A soft smile formed on his faceplate when he read the text.

“ Miko’s done with class. I’ll go pick her up. “

Everyone either nodded or hummed in agreement, the big mech then proceeded to transform and make his way to Miko’s school. When he finally arrived in front, she was already here. He sighed softly and unlocked the door, allowing the human to jump in. As he asked how her day went and waited for her answer, he noticed the usual behavior she would have when she was hiding something from him.

Buckling her belt and making herself comfortable, knowing the ride would miraculously take way longer than the way to school, just because Bulkhead would take all kinds of “shortcuts” that would actually make the ride longer. He loved spending time with Miko, seeing her rocking her head at the songs playing. He had her playlist of favorite songs already registered. The big mech considered her family, like a sparkling he had to take care of. He’d never admit that, though.

The young girl was now waiting for the big engine to start, which never happened. She raised an eyebrow, kind of concerned something went wrong.

“Bulk ? Is your engine broken or something ? “

“ There’s something you want to tell me, but you’re not going to. “

She huffed, taking the words as an attack. But, it was actually just that she didn’t expect him to be able to read her like an open book.

“ what ?? Do you not trust me ? You know I tell you everything ! “

“ Apparently not. Did you get in trouble ? Did someone annoy you ? Who do I need to fight ?”

She stopped him right in his tracks when she heard he was ready to get in trouble just to protect her.

“ No, no no. None of that… I’m not in trouble, and you’re not fighting anyone. Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t have already anyway ! No… It’s that, uhh… I was in detention.”

The green mech sighed. He had a sneaky feeling it was something around those lines. But as he was about to give her a gentle lecture on how she should be respectful, pay attention in class and all that usual blah-blah she probably heard hundreds of times by her host parents, he decided to do the opposite. Bulkhead remembered very well how low Miko has been feeling for the past week. She’d exhaust herself on her homeworks, even ask for help if she was struggling, and not even sneaking out of the base anymore. Very unusual Miko behavior, which gave it away to her guardian. She really did try to get better, but her past got the better of her once again. Bulkhead knew old habits die hard, and sometimes, they just came back to give you a good slap as a reminder it’s not always going to be easy. He felt like this was what was happening to the poor girl at this moment. The silence being long enough, he finally spoke up.

“ You know what ? Let’s watch your show once we’re back to base.”

Too stunned to say a word, Miko stayed silent. She was expecting him to give her a whole speech about how it can’t keep on going, or she’ll fail her whole life, so that answer definitely surprised her. She just smirked and nodded softly, feeling the heavy weight on her chest drastically making it easier to breathe. As the loud sound of the starting engine finally resonated, she heard a small melody coming out of the radio. It was calm and slow, not something she’ll usually listen to.

“Erm, Bulk, what is that song? I’m practically falling asleep ! “

“ It reminds me of you. “

Miko raised an eyebrow, surprised by that answer. It sounded like such a boring song at first. When the volume went up, she listened to the lyrics. Bulkhead opened the windows, allowing the soft breeze of air to come inside and caress the girl’s hair. She relaxed her head back on the seat, and enjoyed it.

That song wasn’t all too bad after all…

EXTRA BECAUSE IM NOT SATISFIED WITH THIS END :

Hopping off of her chair the second the bell rang, the pink haired girl grabbed her bags and left, rushing through the stairs. Bulkhead being on a mission, someone else was coming to pick her up today. Someone special. She looked at every car in the parking lot, giggling when she saw him. She ran towards the car, waving, as if he could wave back. She instantly opened the door and jumped on the passenger seat. Her smile was full of joy.

“ Hey, kid. Been a while, hasn’t it ? “

“ Wheeljack ! It has ! I didn’t expect you here, I’m so happy to see you again. “

“ By the way you almost tripped while running, I could tell.”

She softly giggled, wiggling on the seat as a sign of excitement. The engine revved and they sped up on the road back to base, Miko already imagining a ton of things they could do together.

When she heard the radio turn on, she audibly gasped, her eyes glowing bright with happiness, and her smile only growing wider. The bot looked at her in the rear mirror, giggling in satisfaction. Looks like he hit right on the middle of the target. She rocked her body from side to side, and opened the window, and obviously turning the volume of the radio all the way up.

“ TEENAGE GIRL !!! “

. . . Written by Noah . . .ᐟ ☆

[lucygraysboy]

“of course, i will, lucy gray.” there’s something so childlike and heartbreaking about her constant disbelief, this need for reassurance that he just wants to do something for her out of the goodness of his heart and not because he’s trying to gain her trust and lure her into a trap. “and i’ll be as gentle as i can be. i won’t tear a single ruffle. promise.” his hands might be calloused and rough most of the time, but around her and her possessions, he turns soft. delicate. even now, he’s touching her as though she was made of glass and could break if he as much as breathed near her. “think we got most of the tangles out. let me just grab that brush.” he gets up, wiping his hands on his pants and gathering the sticks that are still laying on the bed near reva blue. he hopes to make her laugh and throws his forearm over his eyes on his way back to her, walking funny and pretending to stumble a few times before plopping down in the chair. “i ain’t lookin’. i wasn’t lookin’,” he announces, not that he could see anything even if he was some creep and wanted to take a peek. “some unique covey we are. a birdie, a giant and miss reva blue the amputee.” he loves the sound of her laugh so very much. he just wants her to keep laughing like this. “feels all wrong, like i’ll be pryin’ into your private thoughts and all that. i’d rather you show ‘em to me when you feel like it.” feels less illegal that way. 

“he wasn’t an awful child, you know? back when our ma was alive, before the war… we had our differences, coriolanus and i, but he wasn’t evil. he didn’t go ‘round settin’ houses on fire or torturin’ other people’s pets. he wasn’t even a bad big brother, believe it or not. yeah, he always corrected and lectured me when i’d call our grandmother ‘granny’ or ‘nan’, and rolled his eyes when i said ‘ma’, but… when we had nothin’ to eat, he always shared with me what little he scavenged. that’s why i don’t think he was born evil. that’s why it’s so hard for me to understand why he first gave you our mother’s scarf, it must have been so precious to him, and then pointed a gun at you. the person you’re describin’, killin’ people and lyin’… that’s our father. not coriolanus.” but it’s been a while since the last time he spoke to his brother. things have changed. clearly. analyzing his words, billy quickly adds, “i’m not sayin’ that i don’t believe you, lucy gray. i believe your every word. but he really wasn’t a terrible child, that’s all i’m sayin’. annoyin’? yeah. evil? i don’t think so.” for a moment, the same exact thoughts come to billy, making him wonder what he would do if he had to choose between his brother and this girl. he’s never shot a man, let alone his own blood. but he would stop at nothing to protect her so… god, it’s making him nauseous. “three people?” he won’t ask for names, but it sends shivers down his spine. would their father murder their mother if she became a threat to his success? probably… “i once read a poem and there was this line, something like, it does no good to speak of roads not taken. how you shouldn’t dwell on things that didn’t happen,” he pauses, gently brushing her hair with the makeshift brush, “but could have been. but how can we not, right? maybe he’ll come to his senses one day.” though, there’s a part of billy that sincerely doubts that.

“it’s crazy how similar he is to our father. once you got on our father’s bad side, there was no goin’ back to bein’ friends with him.” but coriolanus didn’t just inherit their father’s genes. what about the parts that he got from their mother? he doesn’t know how to feel about any of this. all he knows is that he feels sorry for lucy gray. she’s been through hell and back. “i think it’s too late for that. i’m already involved. i don’t want to look away or hide under the bed if something bad happens.” she told him that he could be part of her covey. it’s not like he’ll just walk out the door and pretend not to know her if someone finds them. “i won’t leave your side. i’ll always keep you safe.” as she turns to look at him, he uses the back of his fingers to gently stroke her cheek, a sweet smile dancing on his lips. “the unknown is the worst thing, but we have to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. that’s how we outsmart anyone. we need a plan for every situation. and we need to trust each other. but if i’m being honest… i don’t see him comin’ back here to try and find you. i mean, can you picture that? coriolanus willingly wandering out into the wilderness to look for the girl he most likely shot dead months ago?”  

“once we’re done here, i’ll wash it and it’ll be as good as new,” he promises, knowing how much sentimental value the dress has. fingertips absently stroking her hair, not even trying to brush it anymore, just trying to make her feel good and help her relax. “i haven’t, by the way. gone through your songbook, i mean.” in case she’s wondering. she gave him permission to do so last night, but it seemed too personal, too invasive. “thank you, lucy gray.” it’s been a while since someone complimented his heart. people often admire what’s on the outside — his blue eyes and dark curls, his nose or cheekbones. she’s one of a very few who seem to care more about what’s underneath. “it means the world to me. i won’t let you down, i swear it.” scooping up a handful of water, he carefully pours it over her back to ensure she stays warm. “so are you, little bird. you’re very smart, too. way smarter than me.” she wouldn’t be here with him if she wasn’t highly intelligent. she wouldn’t have escaped coriolanus. which is still such a strange thought… “oh, yeah?” thankful for the distraction, he lets out another laugh. “never noticed you were also bird-sized and i was horse-sized,” he counters, getting to see her sense of humor for the first time and letting it bewitch him. he adores this side of her, but it has him wondering if this is the girl that she used to be — full of sassy remarks and giggles and sweetness. maybe she’ll be that girl again one day.

“i see…” billy hums, nodding his head even if she can’t really see him. he quickly picks up on what she’s implying, putting two and two together. the stories that she told him last night… “you don’t think my brother was born with a good heart, is that what you’re sayin’?” as children, they were like daylight and dark. polar opposites. but can he call that little boy evil? sure, they’d had their differences, but he wasn’t bad to the bone. he didn’t chase stray cats around the neighborhood or rip the wings off flies. “i’m not sure if i agree. maybe the capitol and our grandmother did that to him.” or maybe he was born with evil already inside him and it just came to light later in life. who knows? “i’m not defendin’ him, just thinkin’ out loud,” he says quickly when lucy gray’s head snaps around, looking at him with something that he can’t quite name or understand. it has him wondering if he’s said something wrong. a small, uncertain smile remains plastered to his visage, his own heart picking up pace. “did i —” say something wrong? but before he can get the words out, she’s speaking up again and he’s falling silent. gesturing for her to carry on.

“you planted a snake to scare him away and slow him down?” dark brows lifting, impressed and wary in equal measure. what if she still thinks he’s coriolanus? will he wake up with a snake under his pillow one morning? and lucy gray nowhere to be found? the idea has his heart missing a beat, chest constricting. but if she wanted to run, she would have done that while he was out by the creek. “i didn’t know ‘bout that. i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to bring back any bad memories with that story.” features softening, understanding her reaction better now. amusement fills his eyes, and he can’t help but think it’s such a badass move, setting a snake trap. “oh, i bet he thought it was venomous. what does he know ‘bout snakes? nothin’. i think that was a smart move. risky but smart. and it served its purpose, right?” it’s scary to think that his own twin brother was trying to hunt her down, shot at her, but then he thinks about their father, the kind of person he was… and it’s not so surprising anymore. “you think he would have hurt you anyway? if you came back to him instead of runnin’ away and plantin’ that snake?” is his brother truly as ruthless and heartless as their father? his heart aches for lucy gray, but for coriolanus, too. it must be awful, living that way, filled with hatred. “mhm, yeah. it’s just a silly story, but the moral is very accurate, i think. if you go through life with hatred festering in your heart, you’ll never be happy. but if you learn how to forgive and focus on healing from the bad experiences, you’ll be alright.” as if reading her thoughts, he adds, “he won’t ever find you, lucy gray. reva blue and i won’t allow it. we will always protect you. i will protect you.” 

[maxdibert]

As somebody who literally grew up in the same neighborhood and went to the same high school as the daughter of Steve Jobs, I have interacted with a lot of people who vaguely fit into the intersection of James Potter - and let me tell you NOBODY would be defending him if they did the same. You haven't known sheer evil until you've seen an incredibly wealthy, white, who despite his parents' and society's efforts instill good values in him, has no moral compass whatsoever, teenage boy commit atrocities against his poorer classmates. You can just see him smile because he knows he won't ever see any consequences, because his parents are rich and they've probably donated a building to the school, and he's athletic so they wouldn't dare to compromise his position on the water polo team.

And from somebody who was a gay male in the 2000's California, I couldn't imagine the horrors the other James Potters of the world would have inflicted in 1970's England. The Marauders absolutely would have bullied anyone who has the gall to defend them to the edge of hell and back. The cognitive distance from these people is absolutely insane.

ALL of us who have known someone like that. All of us who have ever interacted with rich people from progressive families and suddenly a kid appears who, despite having everything to be a good person—including supposedly good ideas from his parents who supposedly educated him with values—turns out otherwise. All of us. Absolutely ALL of us can see James Potter in that person, and it horrifies us that he is defended. Even if we weren’t the victims, even if he never did anything to us, just knowing the case up close is enough.

I’m going to go a little further since we are talking about personal experiences. I started militating in left-wing political groups when I was 15, and why not say it, at that time I started with the communist youth. Well, I remember this guy (who later turned out to be a not-so-rare profile within the different unions I’ve been in) who, when we were about sixteen or seventeen years old, was the most committed person in the world. He always took the lead and was the first to get into fights with ultra groups at demonstrations (because many ended in fights due to political tensions), and people held him in high esteem because he was super committed despite coming from a mega-rich family. His parents were involved in the traditionally left-wing party here in my country and had always been in politics, but they also came from money. Well, the fact is that I got to know his parents, and they were really charming, especially his mother, who was involved in issues against gender violence and things like that. So the kid had everything to be a decent person because not only did he have everything, but his parents also had decent values. I always though he was a prick but because i found his personality awful but that’s another story about me and men on my life trying to be the leaders all the time lol

Years later, I coincidentally ran into one of the people who is now a great friend of mine. It was already in university times, and I had lost track of this guy. This girl had gone to the same school as him (a typical private school for kids with rich but progressive or left-wing parents, as you want to call it, that tries not to seem elitist but is lololol), and we happened to talk one day and came to the conclusion that we knew him. WELL. She told me all kinds of crap, especially about how he actively participated in mocking and bullying a girl in their class, tormenting her FOR BEING FAT. And he and his friends spent the day calling her nicknames without stopping. The thing is that my friend told me this girl had a tough time because at that time her house was a mess with her parents divorcing very badly, and she couldn’t really count on them. My friend told me that it was the other students who had to stop the bullying because they made her cry several times, and my friend later found out that the girl had developed an eating disorder that almost killed her.

I ran into that guy again sometime later; he was still actively involved in left-wing politics and had even opened an Instagram and was posing as a feminist ally because that was what was trendy then. He was involved in a very progressive political party in this country that anyone from Spain can guess which party it was around 2018 lol. Well, the guy wasn’t a well-known public figure but one of the minion supporters who probably aspired to someday become something within that party (to give more details, that party is in shambles today, but this is a reference for my Spanish folks). He was sent to debates from time to time and podcasts and hated the right and crapped on contemporary fascists and was super belligerent with his socially focused ideology and hating businessmen. Well, let’s say I knew one of the top guys in that party in the Madrid area, and let’s say that asshole was kicked out, and we even did a public shaming on Twitter, showing his face and ruining his career. I guess if he wants to become a politician now, he’ll have to go for the right.

But social justice aside, what I want to say with this is that the guy was a James Potter type. He was a rich kid with parents who supposedly educated him with values, and he decided to torment a girl and mock her and mess with her to the point of causing her a disorder just because he COULD. Because he knew he had power over that girl, and that girl wouldn’t be able to defend herself properly. And the guy at the same time (like many James Potter fans argue) was super into politics, fighting “the bad guys,” and had “the good ideas.” But the moral of this story is that it doesn’t matter if you go to war against the Nazis or directly confront fucking fascists; that doesn’t mean you can’t be a piece of shit. Your quality as a person isn’t shown by having progressive ideas; it’s shown in how you treat people. And well, I’ve known several similar cases to the one I just mentioned; my issue with the James Potters of the world is something very personal.

And sorry for this rant, but well, it’s seven, I have to go to work, and I don’t want to lol.

[unovaascollectionoftrinkets]

sneak peak at a fic i'm writing !

inspired by the fact that I just want to write something where Katsuki has piercings and every freaking time I start to write one... somehow the piercings get removed... or I just don't know how to add them without saying

HEY UA! BAKUGO KATSUKI HAS piercings.

and thats not the exact ~vibe~ i'm going for.

so this is my attempt so far. (it doesnt even get to the part where they are mentioned, smh)

i give most of my fics 'code names' while writing them and then decide on the name at the end, so for now this is: pierce. obvi somethings will probably be changed when i'm done with the fic.

enjoy :)

The slam of a door reverberated through the entire dorm, shaking walls and rattling picture frames. 

Every head in the common room turned toward the source, but they didn’t need to see who it was to know. Only one member of Class 1-A possessed the strength—and sheer rage—to shake the whole damn building.

Kirishima glanced up from the couch, a knowing smirk already forming. 

“Mido, looks like you’re up,” he said, his voice laced with amused sympathy.

Izuku let out a groan that was equal parts exhaustion and resignation, dragging a hand down his face. 

Ever since he and Katsuki had worked out their… extensive history and rekindled a somewhat volatile but undeniable friendship, the rest of Class 1-A had taken to calling him the “Katsuki Whisperer.” 

The nickname stuck like super glue. 

And while Izuku secretly found a strange pride in his ability to calm the explosive blonde, it also meant he got stuck with handling him whenever the grenade went live.

Case in point: Katsuki had apparently gone nuclear. Again.

“I dunno, Kiri,” Izuku muttered. “I don’t think I can do much this time.”

“You’ve got the magic touch!” Mina chirped from across the room, grinning over her can of soda. “Just give him that voice. You know, the soft one.”

“Yeah, the calming one,” Kirishima added, his grin widening.

Izuku groaned again, louder this time. He could already feel the heat rising to his face.

The faint but unmistakable sound of blaring music began filtering down the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. Izuku’s shoulders tensed as he recognized the song.

“♫ EVERYTHING IS FUCKED, EVERYBODY SUCKS. YOU DON’T KNOW WHY, BUT YOU WANNA JUSTIFY RIPPIN’ SOMEONE’S HEAD OFF ♫”

“Yeah… definitely not going up there,” Izuku shouted over the sudden blast of Break Stuff.

“Oh, come on, Mido! He wouldn’t actually rip your head off!” Kirishima said, though his words lacked any real conviction.

“♫ NO HUMAN CONTACT, AND IF YOU INTERACT, YOUR LIFE IS ON CONTRACT ♫”

“Not helping!” Izuku snapped.

“♫ YOUR BEST BET IS TO STAY AWAY, MOTHERFUCKER! ♫”

The chorus hit like an explosion, and Izuku couldn’t help but cringe. 

If that song was playing, Katsuki was definitely in a mood. There wasn’t a chance in hell anyone was talking him down—not without risking life, limb, and possibly the structural integrity of Heights Alliance.

“Come on!” Mina pressed. She cupped her hands around her mouth and affected a dramatic falsetto. “Just hit him with the classic Hey, Kacchan~ If you don’t explode Heights Alliance, I’ll give you a big fat wet ki—”

Blackwhip shot out of Izuku faster than a lightning bolt, clamping over Mina’s mouth before she could finish.

“Don’t even say it!” Izuku yelped, his face and ears turning a mortified shade of pink. He shot a glare at the fifth user in his head. Thanks for the reflexes, really.

Mina pried the tendrils off her mouth, laughing so hard she had to grip the couch for balance. “Oh, come on, you’re blushing! That’s adorable! You know it works.”

“It’s not—it’s not like that!” Izuku stammered, his voice rising an octave as he flailed his arms in protest. “And even if it was—which it isn’t—it wouldn’t work this time.”

“Why not?” Kirishima asked, looking genuinely puzzled. “You’re the Katsuki Whisperer, man! What could he be that mad about?”

Izuku sighed heavily, glancing toward the stairwell. He could tell them, but… nah. 

Some truths were better kept under wraps. Especially because he didn’t want Katsuki to find out he was the one who let the cat out of the bag.

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

no yeah i really love how every core 4 member got a real happy ending....except for ej

nini is happily pursuing music in la with her moms' full support

ricky is dating gina, a girl he calls "home". he's finally becoming more at peace with love and how to show it. he's learned how to not run from his problems. his parents are getting back together (???) and his drama teacher wrote such a good letter of recommendation that he was accepted into a community college

gina becomes a literal movie star and was able to change the filming location of her second movie, without any consequences, to salt lake so she can physically be with ricky, the boy she finally got to date after crushing on him since the day they met. she has a permanent home to call her own now. her mom finally showed up to an opening night and she was finally able to portray gabriella

and then ej...is alone (in a wildcat sense) at college, financially cut off from his family, working multiple jobs to afford it. he spends most of his season 4 screentime guiding and helping others (ricky, gina, miss jenn, madlyn) instead of an actual storyline and a lot of his lines were about how he's made mistakes and has to live with them

[nazghcul]

WHILE Mich entertained Dove a little, he kept on teasing Bryce. Chihuahuas were cute yet very angry tiny looking creatures. Good that his words made it to Bryce's ears. "My words mean nothing but love." Mich yelled slightly. At least one of them were doing great, Ludovic on the other hand wasn't. He tried to hold on, other times he wished he wasn't around, maybe that would make everyone happy or make Benny happy. His broski sat next to him. "Maybe you will, doubt it that anyone else would. Not even Benny, he probably would be happy with Amaru. I'm not in the way, i don't know what they're waiting for." Was it for the better that he stayed broken, defeated now that his brother got what he always wanted. Switching the convo was better, anything he would say would get turned against him.

"I'll text you a list, it's a long one because Pollito needs extra care and a lot of things. His meals has to stay consistent." He already missed his furry best-friend. For the mean time Ludovic will have to wait until he's given the green light by his doctors to see his pup. Thankfully, Pollito was doing fine, that gave Ludo relief. "Good. Glad he's doing great. he'll warm up to you broski, give him time. Or spend time with him too, that also helps. As long as his meals are made, he's getting attention, exercise and nice bathroom breaks, i'm happy." Did he want to know about his husband? yes but also no. He didn't want anymore flashbacks, those already gave him whiplash. Hazel eyes looked at Bryce, blinking slowly. "I don't think texting him right now is a good decision. That kiss haunts me, those two together haunts me, that night haunts me. And while that might be true, eventually we need to talk. I don't think right now is the best time. At least someone else knows i'm not doing great." he sighed, dropping his gaze to stare at his fingers. Surely he could use a smoke at the moment, but that was off limits apparently.

"I can't face him, it's not because i'm afraid. I just don't want to break in front of him, he's sensitive, and his brain tends to go to other places. I'd rather be in a good place mentally and emotionally before i even decide to speak with him. However, i'm losing my mind at times. You should get ready to put me in an asylum soon broski." he joked, chuckling lightly. "thanks, i got two both i know. Just wish you two wouldn't be in the middle of my quarter life crisis. Other things you mean Dove?" to this he laughed, Ludovic looked over at the other two who seemed to be in their own little world. Good for them. "Broski, she's beautiful, smokin' hot that i won't deny or lie. I kissed her, i flirt with her, hell i'd fuck her, i can do whatever i like. However, i truly wanted to know what's it like to kiss someone else, someone you barely know and just met. I wanted to see what was all the fuss about when Benny kissed my brother multiple times -- wanted to put myself in his shoes. And you know what, i feel nothing. Truth is, nobody can make me feel anything close to what i feel towards Benny. Mind you, i can kiss however many people, and in the end broski, none them will ever give me what i need, won't make me feel the burning passion and love i have for him. That's where Benny's problem lies, he'll never see how much i love him." Ludovic shook his head and laughed again, laughing to serious things was the best remedy. "My broski is learning italiano, good. I'm proud of you. As for my brother, he always comes back i'm sure he will soon."

No   matter   how   much   of   an   idiot   Bryce   might   be   on   the   outside,   he   was   good   at   watching   the   situations   in   front   of   him   and   he   saw   how   Ludovic's   gaze   moved   over   to   that   nurse   every   now   and   then.   Especially   when   he   seems   to   think   that   no   one   is   watching.   Just   like   AJ,   Bryce   has   seen   that   kissing   video   of   Ludovic   and   Dove   after   Benji   sent   it   to   them.   No   matter   how   much   he   loved   his   broski,   not   even   Bryce   could   defend   his   Broski.   But   now   that   he   saw   everything   with   his   own   eyes,   Bryce   wasn't   too   sure   about   it   all   anymore.   Ludovic   seemed   much   more   broken   than   Bryce   initially   thought.   Fingers   crossed   that   Michele   will   distract   the   nurse   enough,   at   least   this   was   what   Bryce   hoped   for   everyone   around.   ❝Hey,   I   heard   that!❞   Bryce   said   to   Michele   after   he   was   called   a   Chihuaha.   In   a   warning   gesture,   Bryce   lifted   his   index   finger   before   settling   down   on   the   bench   next   to   his   best   friend.

To   most   people,   it   would   have   been   just   one   sentence,   but   to   Bryce,   it   meant   a   lot   that   Ludovic   was   still   not   happy   that   he   survived.   He   was   broken   and   Bryce   hated   seeing   that.   ❝Not   under   my   watch,   Broski.   I   told   you,   I'll   drag   your   ass   out   of   hell   if   I   have   to.❞    Even   though   Bryce's   voice   remained   playful,   he   was   dead   serious   about   it   all.   Right   now,   Ludovic   spoke   from   pain   but   as   soon   as   the   storm   settles,   he   won't   think   that   way   anymore.   ❝It's   no   problem,   Broski,   just   write   me   a   list   with   the   things   you   need.   But   I   get   it,   I'll   just   tell   her   that   you   recover   well   and   that   you'll   call   her.   You   know   your   sister.❞   Talking   about   Sofia   was   definitely   easier   than   making   Benji   or   Pollito   a   topic.   Maybe   he   should   have   just   said   it   straight   away,   but   beating   around   the   bush   came   a   little   easier.   Little   does   Bryce   know   that   he   was   the   reason   now   for   misunderstandings.   ❝Oh,   your   pup   is   fine.   Nothing   happened,   he   is   still   living   at   your   home   with   you   know   who.   You   know,   eating   his   meals   and   doing   his   poopies.   Still   ignoring   me   as   always,   but   he   notices   your   absence,   obviously.❞   A   frown   appeared   on   Bryce's   face   and   he   fell   silent   while   listening   to   the   explanation   as   to   why   Ludovic   didn't   want   to   see   his   puppy   at   the   moment.   This   certainly   made   sense   to   him.   ❝I   know   you   are   not   fine.   I'm   your   brother.❞ 

He   sighed   softly   and   hummed   again.   Of   course,   he   knew   who   Ludovic   was   talking   about.   Though,   he   couldn't   understand   why   he   and   Benji   wouldn't   talk   to   each   other.   Benji   wasn't   even   keeping   it   a   secret   that   he   missed   Ludovic.   ❝I   promise,   I   won't   mention   that   to   him.   I   just   don't   understand   why   you   two   don't   talk.❞   Bryce   looked   at   his   best   friend   with   a   serious   expression.   Gently   he   nudged   his   shoulder   against   Ludovic's.   ❝You   are   not   alone,   Ludovic.   I'll   always   be   by   your   side,   and   so   will   Michele,   you   know   us.   But   nothing   can   be   fixed   when   you   guys   don't   talk.   I   know,   you   want   to   focus   on   yourself   and   other   things   at   the   moment   and   you   know   I   support   that.   Your   recovery   comes   first.❞   AJ   would   be   better   at   these   kinds   of   talks.   Bryce   would   say   what   was   on   his   mind   and   this   wasn't   always   the   best   choice.   ❝But   as   I   told   Ben,   sooner   or   later   you   two   need   to   talk.   If   not   for   your   relationship,   then   for   your   son   and   the   living   situation.   I   told   him   to   text   you,   but   he   said   you   wouldn't   answer   him   anyway.❞   Knowing   his   broski   and   his   intrusive   thoughts,   Bryce   cleared   his   throat.   ❝By   the   way,   he   is   not   with   your   brother.   Your   brother   vanished   from   this   earth.   Never   heard   of   him   again   after   that   night.   And   before   you   say   that   we   can't   know   that   for   sure,   we   know.   AJ   is   almost   a   roommate   of   him   and   if   AJ   isn't   around   it's   either   me   or   Angelo,   well,   mostly   Angelo.   If   this   continues   I'll   be   fluent   in   Italian   soon.❞   Bryce   snorted   and   rolled   his   eyes.

[dootznbootz]

opinions on helen of sparta being compared to prey animals? blink blink

*blink blinks back* Then immediately sits like this because of the question.

It's a good question that I'm happy to answer! It just makes me mad.... I sincerely hate the wording of "prey" being used to describe her.

SHE IS A VICTIM! THAT DOES NOT MEAN SHE IS "PREY"!

I can...see how people in ancient times may have used that word and still meant it in how she is a victim... but modern-day English-speaking people calling her that??? (considering how in different languages the word "prey" could have different meanings.) I'll just say that as someone who has been "prey" herself at one point, I REALLY hate that word as a descriptor. Just say victim or survivor. 👍

Honestly to call ANY victim "prey" is so fucked up. "Prey" to me, feels like "it's meant to happen." "Prey" are part of the food chain and so that's what happens. And to compare that to abduction and SA? Almost as if "that's our place"? It also kind of implies something being "eaten" or killed... Helen SURVIVES. She's traumatized and definitely needs healing and support but it's not like she can't find joy or peace ever again. Prey just feels so fucking gross.

Also, if someone calls victims "prey", I hope they know that Moose, Elk, Boars, Bovine, ZEBRAS, etc. are technically "prey". And these are VERY aggressive animals while still being "prey" for some other animals. And also that doesn't mean that "Oh, they're powerful! Clearly they should've been able to stop it." That's victim blaming :P

She is a clever, determined, caring woman who was ripped from her home for YEARS because Paris was a dipshit who decided he needed the prettiest woman in the world despite already having a wife. He didn't care about the fact that Helen didn't want to be there and was already married. He is so selfish that he will not let her go back even when THOUSANDS have died in the war! EVEN HIS BROTHER HECTOR AND PRIAM DO NOT BLAME HER! Granted, we do not know if Aphrodite would have let him undo their deal of "I want the prettiest woman" if he DID end up feeling bad for Helen and he wished to let her go home (I doubt it based on his personality though).

"Oh, if she is so independent/strong, then why didn't she just kill Paris and leave?"

AGAIN! Victim blaming!!! First thing, people who ask that have media literacy that is piss on the poor. You also have no idea about the political implications that would have happened if she DID kill Paris. She literally cries about staying there and argues with Aphrodite about seeing Paris, only to get strongarmed by Aphrodite as, guess what? A GODDESS WILL ALWAYS OVERPOWER A DEMIGOD. (This isn't Percy Jackson where he "killed" Ares as a 12 year old (Percy, you were my childhood, but that's bullshit.))

Even confined in Troy, she ARGUED with APHRODITE about going to see Paris! She is not some meek woman who just does as she's told with no pushback! She argued with a GODDESSS! Very few survive doing that!!!

She's not "Prey to fate", she's a "VICTIM of Fate".

[2tarbell]

US — KOOK!READER

rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

(drabble. © 2tarbell 2024)

if anyone asked you, you’d say you never got jealous. what was the point? a seemingly endless waste of energy and your valuable attention — people would get on their knees in seconds for a chance to talk to you. a kook princess never got jealous.

which is why the stinging question of ‘why?’ bounced around your head as you watched rafe walk back over to the bar, a pretty head of dark hair awaiting him with an infuriatingly easy going smile.

sofia.

you only learned her name after she introduced herself with a little grin. something about the pogue was effortless and it was currently eating away at any confidence you might’ve had when you walked in.

your makeup felt heavy and your miniskirt too short, too tight — did you look trashy? like you were trying too hard? she was sweet; that girl next door energy you know you’d never have. no matter how much you cried and pleaded.

a bump to your shoulder interrupted your brooding, pretty glossed lips stuck together in a pout, mimicking the furrow of your brow. topper gave you a knowing look and a scowl met him. he chuckled dryly.

“earth to princess, hellooo?”

you rolled your eyes, directing your attention to your empty cocktail glass. the ice looked back at you mockingly — you’re the one who asked rafe to go get you another drink. stupid, stupid, stupid.

“go to hell, top.” the quip made your other best friend laugh, kelce reaching across the table to steal a fry from your untouched plate. how could you eat in a moment like this?

“what’s the problem? you’re literally pouting.” the boy mumbled.

the way kelce spoke through a mouthful of fried potato made you wince. a napkin is thrown in his direction, landing on the table lamely. boys are so messy, and nosey.

you huff dramatically, “ugh, it’s nothing. god, i miss when men went off to war and, like, died or something—“

your annoyed spiel is cut off by a drink being placed in front of you, the lime already squeezed in and floating amongst the cubes of ice. just how you like it. a warm hand rests on the nape of your neck as the chair beside you squeaks against the floor. that voice you know so well rumbling close to you.

“who’s dying?” rafe mumbles as he gets comfortable in the plush chair again, arm stretching behind your shoulders. the gesture is so casual and it makes your stomach twist.

his eyes are piercing when you look over at him — a smirk raises his lips and you fight the urge to slap him then kiss it off his stupid face.

“you — if you were gonna take any longer.”

the eye roll you receive is nothing out of the ordinary — rafe was used to your bitchy tendencies. but watching him chat with the bartender made a seed of doubt burrow into your mind. sofia probably wasn’t such a cunt. maybe that’s why he likes her.

“yeah, well, someone wanted a lime and they were out. sorta hadta wait for your shit, dollface…” rafe explained like it was second nature.

your passive aggressiveness never seemed to phased him, he always put up with it, with you. the thought hurt more than you cared to admit. it was masked with a glare.

you flipped your hair over your shoulder and crossed a leg over the other, stomach churning while you poked at the cocktail with the thin black straw. the conversation between the boys picked back up — blah blah, golf, topper whining about sarah, blah blah.

it was like the cameron boy sensed your disinterest. his arm on the back of your chair shifted, blunt nails now tracing up and down your spine. the contact made your back straighten before leaning into his touch.

it was pacifying for a while. his side profile caught your attention, nose sharp and sexy, cheekbones crafted expertly. he was so handsome it was unfair... she probably thought so, too.

god, why couldn’t you stop thinking about that pogue girl? was he charming and funny to her? maybe he played hard to get and dismissive. maybe her number was sitting in his pocket, scribbled on a napkin in perfect curls — fucking ew.

suddenly you became irritated. the thought of your best friend, your rafe thinking he could flirt with someone like her then slink back over to you. yeah, right. you weren’t that easy. you rolled your shoulders, shrugging off his touch. he shot you a look but didn’t say anything, just adjusted in his chair.

you were listening to the conversation even less now, anger and something you didn’t want to name boiling in your chest. stiff as a board, you picked at your food. only humming in acknowledgment when something concerned you. it was obvious something was the matter and your friends shared curious looks with each other but never asked you outright.

a warm palm tried to squeeze your thigh but you pushed his hand off. rafe clenched his jaw at your dismissal, feeling that familiar need for dominance over you and whatever fuckin’ attitude you decided to have today. with topper and kelce in a heated debate over something probably stupid, rafe leaned in — his breath was hot against your ear as he spoke in a low warning tone.

“don’t know what your fuckin’ deal is — but it ends now, yeah? eat.”

the glare you sent up through your lashes only stoked the fires of his annoyance. there’s a momentary stare off, eyes communicating thousands of thoughts and unspeakable feelings.

with a scoff you look away, feeling a lump form in your throat. no, this isn’t happening. you stand abruptly and rifle through your purse for a hundred before you throw it on the table, storming off with heels clicking.

the sound echoes in rafe’s head as he snatches the bill up, placing his card down on the table. he quickly follows after you, ignoring the way sofia’s eyes light up when he heads her direction.

“hi, rafe, i was just…” her words fizzle out in her tongue as she watches him pass her, marching after the pretty girl in a yellow top.

the small family bathroom offered a reprieve from the stifling nature of rafe’s presence and your own mind. looking in the mirror — you hardly recognized yourself. you shoved your purse onto the counter, feeling like your composure was completely lost.

eyes wide and teary, lips still glittery but trembling. this was only a version of you he could bring out. now, you found yourself wishing for the comforting weight of his words and gaze and — no, be strong. get it together.

the silence was broken by the door being pushed open with immense force. your head dropped, not trusting yourself to form a witty stab of words. within seconds he was turning you, body hard and pressing your back into the counter, reaching behind you and shoving the hundred dollar bill back into your purse. a wince left you when he gripped your jaw tightly with a hold unforgiving and questioning.

“fuck was that, huh? you— you were doin’ so well, dollface, and now—”

the words halted when he saw a shiny tear streak down your face. the way his eyes softened only pushed you further into despair. his hand moved, now cupping your face and running a thumb along your cheekbone. the wet pearl caught on his skin but once they started, they just kept coming.

soon you were in his arms, hiccuping and holding on for dear life. rafe rocked you with a tight hold — voice soothing despite the look of confusion on his face. he’d never seen you this upset before, this broken.

“hey, hey, woah — what’s’a matter? what happened?” he cooed.

his large palm smoothed over your hair as you pressed your makeup running cheeks to his chest. hugging rafe always made everything better, but now you can’t stop thinking about him holding her like this.

he spoke your name firmly, pulling your head back to look deep into your wet eyes. his stare was intense, worried and seeking answers.

“use your words f’me,” he pushed your hair back off your forehead as he mumbled. and if you were in your right mind, you would’ve shrieked about him ruining your hair.

“jus’— d’you like her?” you blubbered.

rafe was more than confused, his eyebrows drawn together tightly. he crouched down a little, trying to hear your meek voice better.

frustrated and distraught, you pushed him back weakly. a few more inches were put between you two — only a few seconds until he crowded you again, trying to soothe you.

“sofia, rafe! do you like her?”

your yelling had him stepping even closer. shaking his head quickly, confused and slightly irritated, rafe cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“okay, okay— i heard you. don’t scream. i don’t— i don’t even fuckin’ know her. stop, stay still—“

you were squirming, trying to get far from him. far from this and the horrible ache in your chest at just the thought him maybe, possibly—

“stop, i’m talking now. ‘m not— i don’t like sofia, okay? i don’t, y’hear me?” his voice was authoritative, freezing you in place. those blue eyes pleaded with yours for understanding, for trust.

despite the tension between you, his heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his. he sees the sparkle in your eyes, that fire mixed with a hint of softness that he’s so fond of. it gives him a glimmer of hope that maybe he can bridge this gap between you.

“c’mon. you know you’re my girl.”

you melt into him unconsciously, seeking that warmth his embrace always seemed to bring. you’re hugging each other tightly in the small bathroom. rafe stares at your figures in the mirror, watching as you nuzzle further into his arms. like you belong there.

with a sniffle, you tip your head back. feeling so small as you look up at his face. rafe leans down and presses a tender kiss to your mouth — moving slowly in a moment of raw vulnerability.

his voice is low, you feel the vibrations against your lips as he speaks softly, “i wouldn’t do that t’you… to us.”

he feels your body tense at his words, his hands squeeze your hips. with wide eyes you pull back from the kiss and gape at him. his touch is begging you to listen, to not freak out. the tears well anew as you let his words wash over you. us. he thinks there’s an us.

suddenly, it’s like you can breathe again. like all the nights feeling scared and confused without him seem worth it. all of it’s worth it to be in his arms like this, hearing him justify the feelings you’ve done everything to bury.

rafe cups your cheek in one hand, the other arm wrapping fully around your body. there’s something so tender and charged about the way he’s looking at you and wiping your crocodile tears away.

he’s begging you now, eyes flicking between yours, “you’re my girl, you know that. always gonna be us, a’ight?”

a light burns in your heart and you realize that you do know that. when has it ever been anything else? when has he not been by your side, dealing with your bullshit? rafe cameron had been yours since the moment you met.

with a shaky exhale you nod, leaning into his palm. the sight of you so fragile tears at his heart and rafe draws you in closer. his nose finds home in your hairline and he peppers kisses along your forehead. us.

the revelation didn’t stop the words from spilling out of your mouth, insecurity still pecking at your mind.

“she’s probably easier to deal with.”

“nah, i don’t wan’ easy.”

he pulls back, holding the back of your neck to angle your face towards him. there’s a hardness to his gaze — like the very idea of easy is repulsing him. then he’s smirking and leaning in.

rafe presses a firm kiss to your mouth, tongue parting your lips and swallowing the hiccup of pleasure that slipped out. his leg wedges its way between yours, knee pressed snugly underneath your miniskirt. he’s devouring you completely unforgivingly. without thought, you roll your hips against his knee. the tension in your body melts away as the friction of his jeans meets your covered clit.

“mmf, rafe—”

“i don’t want easy,” his words accented by harsher presses of his leg upward, causing you to choke on air, “i want you. whiny and bratty and beautiful you. got it?”

nodding your head fervently, he smushes his lips against yours. lifting you onto the small counter and shoving a hand up your skirt, his hardness pressing thick and pulsing against your thigh. the kiss so messy and clothes haphazardly being pulled to the side. the spark of finally being seen, finally being acknowledged as his, fuels the moment.

the sex is slow and steady, a promise of commitment and dedication to this messy relationship. to each other. tears of pleasure and happiness collect on your lash line, pretty face scrunched in ecstasy only rafe could provide.

(and topper and kelce took his card and ordered five beers each.)

[aesthetically-dying101]

Wifed up

A/N: im trying this type of thing out, but what happens if the JJk men saw you without your wedding ring? (tbf, im sure this has been done by others before, i sure as hell aren't the first to write this, won't be the last.)im genuinely so scared of posting this lmfao, okay but anyways

Characters: Nanami, Gojo, Geto, Toji, Sukuna, Shiu. (in said order)

Nanami:

Nanami almost got whiplash when he noticed the ring—your wedding ring, for heaven’s sake—wasn’t on your finger.

But when he stepped through the door of your shared home, grocery bags in one hand, jacket slung over his arm, and caught sight of your bare hand…well, he nearly dropped the tomatoes.

It wasn’t like him to jump to conclusions—he prided himself on logic, on maturity. But standing in the doorway of your shared home, the scent of vanilla and butter wafting through the air, his heart skipped a beat for all the wrong reasons. He could see you through the archway leading into the kitchen, flour dusting your forearms, a faint smear of chocolate on your cheek.

You looked radiant, as always. But the empty space on your left hand? That detail stood out sharper than a curse in a crowd.

Nanami’s mind, traitorous for the first time in years, whispered an awful thought: Was she hiding it? Why? What if she’s inviting someone else over while I’m at work?

He hated the thought. Hated that it even crossed his mind. But he was only human—humans with hearts could be irrational, especially when they cared so deeply.

The seconds stretched, but his mind was already racing. His rational side kicked in almost immediately, reminding him that you were probably just taking it off while baking—something harmless, right? You’ve always done that. It’s just a ring.

But... It had been a conversation in the office that kept nagging at him all week. His coworker—someone he’d known for years—had just found out that his wife of ten years had been cheating on him. The betrayal had rocked him to his core, and for the last few days, Nanami had been wondering how something like that could happen. His mind lingered on the idea that a partner could hide something so big, and the doubt, for just a second, crawled into his own relationship. What if you were hiding it too?

He shook his head. Get a grip, Kento. Still, he couldn’t quite quell the question lingering at the edge of his thoughts.

“Y/N,” he called softly, stepping closer.

You turned, a bright smile lighting up your face.

“You’re home early!” you exclaimed, wiping your hands on your apron.

“I am,” he replied, voice steady, though his sharp eyes didn’t miss the bare ring finger you so casually flaunted. “Where’s your ring?”

Your eyes widened in realization.

“Oh, that!” You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “I took it off while baking. Didn’t want to get dough all over it. It’s right over there.”

You pointed to the windowsill by the sink, where sure enough, both your engagement and wedding rings sat neatly side by side.

Relief flooded him so fast it almost made him dizzy. He nodded, keeping his tone light. “I see. I suppose I should’ve known you wouldn’t be that careless with it.”

“Careless?” You scoffed, playfully offended. “I’m meticulous, thank you very much.”

He smiled faintly, his heart settling back into its usual rhythm. You stepped closer, your grin turning mischievous. Before he could react, your flour-dusted hand slapped his backside with an audible smack.

Nanami froze, incredulous, as you dissolved into laughter.

“There,” you declared between giggles. “I marked my territory. Now wash your hands and help me.”

Nanami followed you after gently folding his jacket over a chair and loosening his tie. He slipped off his own wedding ring and set it carefully beside yours on the counter before rolling up his sleeves. For the next hour, the two of you moved seamlessly, kneading dough and rolling croissants together. The air filled with the warmth of the oven and the soft melody of your laughter.

By the time the pastries were golden and flaky, Nanami leaned against the counter, his hand resting on your lower back. The soft touch quickly turned into something more as his lips brushed your temple, then your cheek. You turned to meet him halfway, mouths molding together in a kiss that deepened quickly, his hands firm against your waist.

Nanami’s lips were warm and urgent against yours, every brush of his mouth sending a shiver down your spine. His hands, once gently resting on your waist, now gripped you tighter, pulling you flush against him as your body aligned in all the right ways.

You could feel the heat building between you, your chest pressed against his as your hands worked on the button of his shirt with determination, your fingers fumbling only slightly as you pushed him further against the counter. He groaned against your lips when you tugged at his tie, undoing it with quick, practiced movements.

“Someone’s eager,” he teased, his voice low and rough, but the words disappeared as your lips traced the edge of his jaw-his perfect jaw, your teeth grazing the sensitive skin of his neck.

“I’ve been waiting all day,” you murmured, hands sliding down to the waistband of his pants. His breath hitched when you unbuckled his belt and slid your hand inside, brushing against him with the kind of intention that made him gasp, his body instinctively bucking into your touch.

You grinned against his skin, the heat of the moment clouding your mind. This wasn’t just about passion—it was about claiming him, showing him with every touch that he was the only one. You slid your hand lower, your fingers grazing him with a teasing pressure that made his breath quicken.

“You’re the only man I need, Nanami Kento,” you whispered, meeting his eyes as you pulled him closer, grinding your hips against his. The friction had your pulse racing, a primal need building in the pit of your stomach.

His hands gripped your hips, pulling you even tighter against him as he kissed you again, this time with a desperation that matched yours. His lips were insistent, almost possessive, as his hands slipped under your shirt, his thumbs brushing against your skin in a way that made you shiver.

The air was thick with heat, your body aching with want, when suddenly—

DING!

The oven timer went off.

You both froze.

The croissants.

“Oh no—!”

You shoved away from him with a frustrated gasp, already heading toward the kitchen, but not before you shot him a glance. “You’re so distracting!”

Nanami watched you, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breath. His eyes darkened with amusement, and he chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"We'll finish this later, don't worry."

Gojo

Gojo’s feet dragged heavily as he entered the apartment, the door clicking shut behind him with a soft, final sound. The weight of the mission still hung over him—bones aching, mind buzzing with residual adrenaline.

He didn’t want to think about the cursed spirits he'd just fought or the cursed techniques he'd barely been able to avoid using in full force. All he wanted now, all he craved, was the soft familiarity of home.

And you.

His wife.

There you were—curled up on the couch, your form relaxed and peaceful, your face lit by the flickering light of the TV screen. It looked like you'd fallen asleep while watching something, your body sinking into the cushions, soft and beautiful.

But then—

His eyes narrowed.

His eyes immediately fell to your left hand.

Empty.

No wedding ring. No engagement band.

His heart skipped a beat. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. The weight of exhaustion, the tightness in his chest, everything—it all vanished in the face of that empty ring finger. His mind instantly went blank, and then... panic.

Where the hell is it?

A thousand questions shot through his head at once, each one more suffocating than the last. His mouth went dry, and he stepped closer to you, his mind reeling. It didn’t make sense. You’d always worn your rings, no matter what.

During the mission he hadn't used his Six Eyes and scan everything in the house, to check on you, but.... He’d been distracted. Too focused on that cursed mission, on the job, on things he shouldn’t have let slip.

His eyes flicked back to your hand, that empty space where your ring should have been. His mind spiraled further into dark thoughts.

She... She took it off? But why?

His heart thudded painfully in his chest. Was this it? Had it finally happened? Was this the moment when everything changed? When you... left him?

He couldn't breathe. He couldn’t think.

Did she meet someone else?

His pulse quickened at the thought. He wanted to scream, to shout, but the silence around him felt suffocating. Every step closer to the couch felt like a thousand pounds pulling him down. He stopped in front of you, staring at your unconscious form, the way you seemed so... peaceful, like everything was fine.

But it wasn’t.

What the hell is going on?

It was almost like a switch had flipped inside him—like something deep within him, something raw and protective, had been triggered. His anger, his fear—it boiled over. It had to be something. She wasn’t just going to forget her rings.

His voice was low, rough, as he bent down close to you, his tone colder than he meant it to be.

"Hey," he said, almost a hiss. "What the fuck is going on?"

His heart clenched at the coldness of his own words, but his fear was all-consuming. He needed answers. Now.

You stirred, your eyelids fluttering open at the sound of his voice, but it was the confusion in your gaze that stopped him for a second. For just a moment, it was like the anger and fear drained out of him, replaced with a spike of guilt. This wasn’t the way to approach you. He wasn’t supposed to be... scaring you. But he couldn’t help it.

What if I’m losing her?

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry from sleep, but the panic in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

"Satoru...?" Your voice was soft, laced with that sweet, familiar confusion he loved. The panic in his eyes, the intensity in the way he stared down at you—it wasn’t the Gojo you were used to. He looked almost... unhinged.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you pushed yourself up slowly, feeling the exhaustion still clinging to your body. There was a fleeting second of fear that rose in you—this wasn’t how he usually acted.

What’s going on?

The man who had always been the first to laugh in the face of danger, the man who could break down any barrier with a joke or a smile, was now standing there—almost trembling. This was no playful teasing. No, there was something else in the way his body stiffened, the way his voice cracked with uncertainty.

His voice was a harsh, cold rasp as he bent down closer, demanding answers he wasn’t sure he wanted.

“What the fuck is going on?” He tried to keep his voice from trembling, "Where’s your ring?"

"Huh? What are you talking about?" Your hand instinctively went to your finger, but it was bare. You frowned. "Oh..." The fog of sleep was lifting now, and the look on his face was making your heart race.

But before you could even say anything else, Gojo’s eyes narrowed, and he straightened up, suddenly tense.

"I’m not playing games, [Y/N]." He could feel the anger bubbling up again, his breath coming faster. "What the hell is going on? You’ve been in this house, and now you’re not wearing it? Are you seriously gonna tell me it’s some accident?" He gestured wildly, his frustration impossible to hide.

You recoiled slightly, caught off guard by his tone. The fear in his voice, the desperation that edged every word, it hit you hard. He was scared.

But you could feel it, too. You could feel the rage he was hiding beneath his frustration, the doubt gnawing at him, the belief that something was wrong—that he wasn’t good enough to keep you.

The thought almost made you ache. You couldn’t believe he’d think that. Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, so terrified that his wife had... what? Cheated on him?

"Gojo," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I didn’t—I didn’t take it off for any reason like that." You looked at him, trying to calm his rapid breath. "I was cleaning the bathroom earlier... with bleach. I didn’t want to risk damaging the rings, so I took them off and put them in a little dish in there while I worked. I... I must’ve forgotten to put them back on after I collapsed on the couch."

The explanation was so simple, so mundane, that Gojo felt an overwhelming rush of relief flood through him. He closed his eyes and sank back onto the couch, rubbing his face with both hands.

You were just tired.

You hadn’t been out with someone else. You hadn’t thrown away everything they’d built together.

His mind had created a monster out of nothing. He had jumped to conclusions because he was weak, scared of losing the only person who mattered. He wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, and yet, here he was, completely unraveling over the thought of you slipping away from him.

"God," he muttered, voice breaking slightly. "I thought you... I thought I wasn’t enough for you. That maybe you'd—"

"Stop," you cut him off, pulling him close with a soft tug on his shirt. You pressed your forehead to his chest, feeling the tension in his shoulders. "Don’t even think that, Satoru." You wrapped your arms around him, grounding him. "You’re my everything. I wouldn’t throw that away."

Gojo’s arms tightened around you, his face buried in your hair as he exhaled a shaky breath. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Just the sound of your breathing and the rhythmic beat of your hearts.

When he finally pulled back, he cupped your face gently, his blue eyes searching yours with a mix of relief and affection. A small smile tugged at his lips.

"Next time," he said softly, almost shyly, "just leave a note. Like, ‘I’m cleaning and definitely not inviting other men over,’ so I don’t go insane."

You rolled your eyes playfully, but you couldn’t help but laugh. "Yeah, I’ll do that."

Gojo pulled you back into his arms, this time much softer, as if the whole world could melt away in this moment. He could feel his heart finally steadying. You were here, you were safe. The rest of it didn’t matter.

He kissed the top of your head, whispering softly, "Just promise me one thing, okay?"

You looked up at him.

"Never scare me like that again."

You smiled, a soft, sleepy smile, and nodded.

"I promise."

Geto:

The last thing on your mind was the delicate gold band around your finger, the symbol of your marriage to Geto, which you had carefully removed so as not to get it covered in dirt.

Geto paced through the entrance, his brow furrowed with a mixture of frustration and curiosity. After being away on business for a few days, the first thing he was told upon his return was that something had happened with you—his wife—and that you weren’t wearing your wedding rings.

Before he could utter a word, one of his cult followers had nervously approached him, eyes wide with anxiety.

"Master Geto... We... we noticed the absence of her rings. The lady—"

"Where is she?" he snapped, his voice low, yet carrying an unsettling edge.

His follower hesitated for just a second before pointing toward the garden. "She's there, with your daughters."

Geto’s heart skipped a beat. He clenched his fists, a flood of emotions threatening to overtake him. Did you really... no, he refused to believe it. You couldn't be removing your rings over something so trivial.

He strode quickly, irritation bubbling beneath his calm exterior. As he reached the garden, the sight before him stopped him in his tracks.

There you were, kneeling on the soft earth, laughing as his daughters ran circles around you, their giggles filling the air. You were covered in dirt from working in the garden all day.

You glanced up and saw him standing there, eyes dark with unspoken words. He was staring at you with a strange intensity.

“Suguru,” you said, wiping dirt from your cheek, and then you noticed the look in his eyes. His pupils were dilated, hands gripping the edge of the stone wall with white-knuckled intensity. “What’s the matter?”

His gaze dropped to your bare fingers before snapping back to your face.

"Why are you not wearing your rings?" he asked, his tone colder than usual.

You blinked. The question caught you off guard, and a wave of amusement flooded over you.

“What?” you asked, incredulity mixed with humor. "I just didn’t want to get them dirty. I’ve been in the garden all day with the girls.”

His eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You think I care about that?" His voice rose a little, frustration bubbling to the surface. "You don't understand... how much it means to me—"

You stood up slowly, brushing your hands off and laughing softly. “Suguru, calm down. You’re acting like I’ve sold the rings for magic potions or something,” you teased, holding them out to him with a playful grin.

The sudden tension in the air seemed to break with your words. He stared at the rings, then back at you, his expression wavering between annoyance and relief. He wasn’t sure whether to be mad or laugh at himself for overreacting.

But when you walked toward him, digging in your pocket, then placing the rings back on his hand with an amused smirk, he couldn’t help but release a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His arms pulled you into a tight embrace, his chin resting against the top of your head.

"I was worried, okay?" he muttered. "I've done so much for you, and I... I couldn’t figure out what was going on."

You snorted, wrapping your arms around him. "You’re a disaster sometimes, you know that?"

"I’m just... protective," he mumbled, his voice now laced with a touch of vulnerability.

"You’re sweet," you said, smiling up at him, "but a little too protective for your own good sometimes."

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the small, tender smile from forming on his lips.

“I can’t help it when it comes to you... And these,” he added, tapping the rings, “are more important than you realize.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers tracing the edges of his rings.

"I know, Suguru. But I’m not going anywhere. I just didn’t want to ruin them in the dirt. I still love you just as much."

His hands gently cupped your face as he gazed down at you. “I know. But if you ever take them off again, make sure I’m there when you do."

You raised an eyebrow. “You want to be the one to take them off for me?” you teased.

A smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe I’ll start taking them off myself, then.”

You laughed, reaching up to kiss him lightly on the lips. His arms tightened around you, the world outside of the garden fading into the background.

Your laugh echoed in the air, soft and sweet, as the tension between you melted into a comfortable warmth. Suguru leaned his forehead against yours, his breath a little ragged from the release of his worries.

"You're impossible, you know that?" you whispered, pressing your lips against his.

"Only when it comes to you," he replied softly, his smile genuine and fond. "But I love you anyway."

Toji:

It was a late afternoon when Toji returned home, exhausted but relieved to be done with another job. He stepped into the quiet apartment, the faint smell of Megumi’s favorite snacks still lingering in the air. It had been a good day for the boy, he’d told Toji earlier that he’d had fun at the park with you.

Toji was just about to toss his jacket aside and relax when something on the bathroom counter caught his eye. His wedding ring. But... not hers. Her band was sitting alone next to the sink, glinting in the dim light, empty.

His heart skipped a beat.

His stomach twisted. He couldn’t breathe for a second.

He picked up her ring, turning it over in his hands as if some answer would magically appear. But nothing came. The silence in the bathroom was suffocating, and his chest began to tighten as his mind spiraled into chaos.

She wouldn't... But the thought was there, like a seed growing inside him.

Shit. Not again.

It had happened once before—his ex, the woman who had broken his trust in ways that still haunted him. That memory burned his skin like acid as the anger surged through him. He could feel the old rage coming back, the bitterness of betrayal cutting deeper than ever before.

He paced in a circle, trying to make sense of it. His mind raced—had she really gone that far? Were they just another statistic, another couple destroyed by his own mistrust? He couldn’t imagine it. Not with her.

But there it was: the absence of her ring. What else was he supposed to think?

His hands trembled as he grabbed his phone, fists clenching around it as he typed out a text to Shiu: She’s gone. I fucking knew it. Packing. She’s been seeing someone else.

The words were harsh, but they felt right in the moment. The ring was gone, the reminder of what they had was now nothing but a cruel joke. He stormed into the bedroom, ripping open the closet doors. His mind was working too fast to think straight—he started shoving clothes into a bag, his chest tight. He should have never trusted her. Never allowed himself to be vulnerable.

He allowed her to become a stepmother to Megumi, let her get close to his son. And now, this. How could I be so stupid? he thought bitterly.

Toji’s blood boiled, and his mind spiraled further into the pit of grief and disbelief. He’d let his guard down, let her become a part of his life, a part of his family, and now this? He slammed a fist against the wall, shaking with fury.

An hour passed. He didn’t care. The world outside continued as usual, but in here, in his heart, everything was falling apart. He couldn’t do this again. He wasn’t going to let someone else ruin him.

Then, the sound of the door clicking open interrupted his spiral.

He turned, eyes wild, ready to unleash all of his pent-up rage.

And then he saw you. Megumi was holding your hand, looking at him confused, but his gaze didn’t linger long on the kid.

“Is everything okay?” she asked cautiously, eyeing the half-packed bag by the door.

"Where the hell is your ring?" Toji's voice was low, laced with the venom he was trying to suppress. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring her down. "Where's your fucking wedding ring?"

She blinked at him. "What?"

Toji's glare didn’t soften, and he lifted her ring from the counter, letting it dangle between his fingers. "I thought we were past this bullshit. Thought you’d at least have the decency to—"

She deadpanned, and without a word, raised her hand to his face. His eyes followed her hand, expecting some gesture of defiance, some excuse. But then he froze, seeing the bandaged pinky and ring finger on your hand, the fabric wrapped tightly in place.

Your gaze was flat, your voice devoid of humor as you stated, “I didn’t want to lose my damn finger. It’s swollen, and I couldn’t take the risk of it getting worse. I thought you’d be worried about that.”

Toji stared at your hand, feeling the rage that had consumed him moments before start to fade, replaced by a dull ache in his chest.

“You—” He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence. He dropped your ring back onto the counter, as if the weight of it suddenly felt too much.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his head lowering, suddenly feeling like a fool. His fists unclenched, and he rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t even look you in the eyes right now, but his voice cracked with regret. “I thought... I thought you were—”

"Cheating on you?" You finished the sentence for him with a quiet, amused tone, raising an eyebrow. You slowly walked over to him, your expression softening.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to hide the embarrassment in his voice. “I fucked up, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Toji... really? You thought I was gonna leave?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “I’ll make you dinner, okay? Just... next time, try asking before packing your bags.”

He let out a defeated sigh, finally lifting his eyes to meet yours. “Yeah, yeah. I overreacted. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You kissed him... which quickly turned into more, until:

"Ew."

You broke the kiss, laughing lightly.

Sukuna:

It was an ordinary day at the palace—at least, that’s what it seemed like. The sun streamed through the large paper windows, casting a soft light on the traditional tatami mats, where you were seated, diligently working on your calligraphy with Uraume. The brush glided over the paper as the delicate strokes formed beautiful characters, ink staining the tips of your fingers as you focused.

Your wedding ring, that simple yet precious band that bound you to the King of Curses, was nowhere to be seen. It was placed on the nearby wooden table to avoid smudging ink on its gleaming surface.

Sukuna’s voice broke the silence.

"Where is it?"

The low, thunderous tone could only mean one thing: Sukuna was furious. His eyes—four of them—narrowed as they scanned you, focusing on your left hand where the ring should’ve been. His breath quickened as the pressure in the room thickened.

Uraume, sensing the tension, stepped back slowly, not daring to make a sound. You, however, remained seated, doing your best to hide the small smile tugging at your lips. You couldn’t help it—Sukuna? Jealous? Oh, this was going to be entertaining.

"What are you talking about?" you asked innocently, not lifting your gaze from the ink-stained paper.

"The ring, woman," Sukuna growled. "You know exactly what I mean. Where is it?" His voice shook with a barely contained fury as he approached.

You could almost feel the heat radiating off of him. The air around him crackled with murderous intent, but it was impossible to ignore the mix of frustration and… confusion? Ah, he didn’t know what to think, and that only made it funnier.

"I left it off for now," you replied casually, trying to mask your amusement. "I didn’t want to get ink on it while I was working with Uraume."

"Don’t lie," Sukuna hissed, his four arms crossing tightly in front of him. "You’re telling me you, a lowly human, can’t even remember where you left your precious wedding ring?" His voice was cutting, sharp as a blade.

You almost snorted, but you swallowed the laugh just in time. Oh, Sukuna really was something else when he was jealous. The sheer audacity of him to think you’d even remotely be unfaithful was beyond hilarious.

You stood up slowly, turning to face him as he loomed over you like an ominous cloud. His eyes were wild, like he was ready to destroy everything in his path.

"Is that why you’re so upset?" you teased, the corners of your mouth curling up. "You really think I would take off my ring to… go play around with someone else?"

Sukuna’s gaze flickered. His four arms twitched as if to lash out at you, but he held himself back. The tension in the air was suffocating.

"Don’t play with me," he growled, his voice dripping with venom. "What kind of fool do you think I am?"

You couldn’t help yourself anymore. The laughter bubbled up inside you, and you laughed, covering your mouth as you did so. Sukuna stared at you, his eyes burning with confusion and fury. He looked like a king who’d just been betrayed, but somehow even more terrifying in that moment.

"Oh, come on," you teased further, walking up to him and standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "You didn’t seem to think I was a ‘lowly human’ a couple of days ago when you were pounding into me like a savage."

Sukuna’s eyes widened in surprise, and his face turned a shade darker, his body stiffening with rage.

"Don’t you dare," he spat, his four arms reaching out and grabbing you by the waist with a force that would make most humans break. But you? You weren’t just any human. You were his human.

"And now you’re talking about it?" he demanded, his voice dangerously low. "You’re trying to make me look like a fool, huh?"

Despite his anger, you couldn’t suppress your grin.

"You’re the one who’s acting like a fool, Sukuna. Jealousy doesn’t suit you."

His eyes narrowed further, but he didn’t admit he was wrong. No, he wouldn’t do that. Instead, with one swift motion, he picked you up, his grip unyielding. His four arms surrounded you, holding you close.

"You’re lucky I don’t kill every single person in this palace for daring to let you out of my sight without that damn ring on your finger," he muttered through gritted teeth.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly. The fact that Sukuna—the Sukuna—was losing his temper over something as trivial as a ring was almost too ridiculous. Almost.

"All this over a ring?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, still smiling. "Really, Sukuna? You almost killed everyone because I took off my ring for a couple of hours?"

He didn’t respond, but his grip tightened around you, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you toward your shared quarters. As he walked, you wrapped your arms around his neck, not able to stop the teasing smile on your face.

"You’re kind of cute when you're jealous, you know that?" you teased, nuzzling his neck lightly.

Sukuna’s eyes flickered to you, the hint of a growl rumbling in his chest, but he didn’t say anything. The king of curses was undeniably a jealous man, even if he refused to admit it.

And when he finally laid you down on the futon in your quarters, his hands were soft—almost gentle—as he placed a hand on your cheek, his expression still dark but… not as angry as before.

"I’m not going to let you out of my sight again," he murmured, eyes burning with possessiveness. "You’re mine."

You smiled, reaching up to touch his face. "I’m yours," you whispered back.

And just like that, all the tension in the air seemed to melt away, leaving only the comfort of being together.

Shiu:

Shiu Kong was not a man prone to sentimental gestures or overt displays of affection. His love was quiet, steady, and often hidden beneath his sharp tongue and stern demeanor. But he was observant—painfully so. It was this keen eye for detail that had always served him well in his work. Today, however, it left him grappling with a tight knot of unease that coiled around his chest like a curse.

You hadn’t been wearing your wedding ring.

Shiu noticed it that morning when he passed you in the kitchen. You were distracted, bustling around with your usual energy, and when you handed him his coffee, his sharp eyes caught the faint, bare line on your finger.

No glint of the ring he’d placed there.

It wasn’t like you to forget something like that. Shiu wasn’t the type to jump to conclusions, but the thought nagged at him throughout the day. The image of your bare hand replayed in his mind as he handled the paperwork on his desk, and when the hours dragged on, so did his thoughts.

Were you upset about something? Did the ring bother you? Or—no, that was ridiculous—was it deliberate?

His workday felt endless. By the time he stepped into the apartment, his shoulders were tight with tension. Shiu kicked off his shoes and loosened his tie, his heart heavier than he cared to admit.

“Hey,” you called from the kitchen, bright and cheerful. “You’re home! Dinner’s almost ready.”

He stepped into the room, leaning casually against the doorframe. But you knew him too well to miss the way his brow furrowed or the faint stiffness in his posture.

“You okay?” you asked, tilting your head.

Shiu’s lips pressed into a thin line. He never shied away from confrontation, but this… he wasn’t sure how to phrase it. Still, he was Shiu Kong, and hesitation wasn’t in his nature.

“You weren’t wearing your ring this morning,” he said bluntly, his voice even but laced with an edge of something vulnerable.

You blinked, startled, before looking down at your hand as if just realizing the absence yourself. “Oh!” You quickly held up both hands, palms open. “It’s not what you think. I took them to the jeweler to get cleaned today. I didn’t want to forget and leave them on, so I took them off last night.”

His gaze softened, the tension in his shoulders easing as he exhaled a slow, almost imperceptible breath. “That’s it?”

“Of course that’s it!” you said, laughing. “What, did you think I was mad at you or something?”

Shiu clicked his tongue, his usual deadpan expression returning, though the faintest flicker of relief danced in his eyes. “Tch. You could’ve mentioned it. I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

You stepped closer, reaching for his hand and squeezing it with a warm smile. “Sorry, I didn’t think it’d be such a big deal. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

You winked and he grumbled something under his breath, but his fingers curled around yours, holding on just a little tighter than usual.

Later that night, when you slipped the ring back onto your finger and flashed it proudly at him, Shiu allowed himself the barest smirk. He didn’t say anything, of course, but the way his hand lingered on your back when he walked past spoke volumes.

Maybe he wasn’t the romantic type, but damn if he didn’t love seeing that ring on your finger.

A/N: oki so this was an attempt, i dunno if this is any good but hey, you live you learn

Masterlist

:)

[overnightheartbeats]

"Dude, your back is probably eighty at this point." Not that Isaac or his back were any younger. A chuckle later, he had no choice but to agree. The drool stains were pretty damning evidence. "Fair enough. Few more kids and you got a mini soccer team on your hands. I know, I just appreciate you guys keeping her close." Especially when he couldn't. Another reason he was ready to call it quits and go home. Being away from her was not easy, even less easy at the thought of this situation being a lengthy one. Though, Isaac did feel a sense of relief wash over him knowing she was staying at their place.

Isaac was so caught up in ranting about his meeting with Wally that he only half-heard his brother moving around at the other end of the line. But, as soon as he began talking, Isaac knew he was going to get the talk of a lifetime. Things that, he partly knew, but refused to look at in lieu of his anger and frustration agreeing with him, more than his common sense ever would. "Yeah, they're probably right to refuse this one." It was one of the most tangled webs he'd seen in years. Part of him was tempted to ask Eli, if he could loop his wife in just a bit more, just to see if she could pass this on to someone she trusted. It was the third best option in his mind, just him looking for ways to leave this in good hands. "I don't know if I'm the smartest or most idiotic agent in the world for taking this on now." Investigating an FBI director with shady dealings. Thinking back, it kind of made sense that Lucie had been standing in the lobby for ages before he came along.

But, Eli was right. He had given his word, and reassured her up and down that he'd do everything possible to help. Taking that back now would not be right, especially after he implied to her that he briefly suspected her brother too. Hey, he had to discard it all. With a sigh, he relented on that point. "Fear," he scoffed for a second. "I doubt that." The way he threw him against the wall, Isaac doubted it. Until, Wally's words came back to him - his niece being caught up in this. "Okay maybe not, but he's not helping his case. I know you skimmed some of the notes I brought that day, but there's more. And, to be frank, some of it didn't look good for him. That, and his refusal is...odd. He's also convinced I'm just there to fuck it all up or get myself killed."

Eli, the voice of reason. Isaac knew what he was getting when he called. Not necessarily someone to agree with him, but would get some sense smacked into him if he was doing too much. He knew Eli couldn't see him rolling his eyes, because his comment was an echo of a conversation he had with Wally's conversation. Putting himself in Wally's shoes, thinking of a time he had been compromised - all roads lead to that period of his life with Jazz. "Maybe," he grumbled in return. Eli was right on that front too. The tail end of their conversation did present a bit more of that fear, why he was hiding around and away from his family. "Yeah, I'm picking up what you're putting down. He has this situation, I had my thing that you guys helped with." Hey, it paid to have two trusted agents in his life. Well, that they were family mostly. "I guess, yes. I just hate this back and forth when I'm here to help. Actively pushing against him too, knowing that this case is already a mess as it is. "I know, and she is very concerned." Not to mention that she might also be in the line of danger. According to her brother anyway. To Isaac's dismay, he was right. Giving this up was not right.

"Hey, I always miss you guys." Isaac almost couldn't hide his wide grin when he mentioned flying out here. Dealing with someone as frustrating as Wally, having his family here would be the perfect way to cancel all that out. Still, he hated the guy for passing on his fears to him, because now, he couldn't stop thinking of his warnings. "You're one hell of a husband, your idea of a vacation is to Louisiana of all places to follow your brother," he teased, a laugh escaping him. "I appreciate it, and you know I would love that. But, no you guys should stay home. It's a mess and a half here."

"Yeah, and he has a great opinion of CIA. That helped me a ton when I showed up," he added sarcastically. "I guess so." Wanting to help is always what got him into messes. "No, not loyalty. As far as he says and his sister vouches for. Parts of his file truly indicate otherwise, but I discarded that theory today after meeting him. He did," Isaac was reluctant to share, knowing that once he did, there was even less of a chance Eli would agree on letting this go. "She has his niece. I assume, she knows her whereabouts or something along those lines. He didn't specify. I'm not asking him to flat out join the crusade, just to share what he knows. I wouldn't ask him to put her at risk."

Eli laughed thinking he was so hilarious. "That doesn't show my age. My back does. But, you try keeping awake with 5 kids demanding attention every four seconds. Oh wait, our sofa still has your drool stains," as always brothers who teased endlessly loved the most. "No need to thank me. She's family. I promised you I'd look after you. Plus, she's staying upstairs. Lau convinced her to stay so she'd have help with the twins. Juju and Aaron have been keeping the house warm."

Ridiculously stubborn. Now that sounded familiar. Eli let his brother finish before he spoke. The reply on the tip of his tongue but knew he had to be careful how he worded it. Taking the bottle from his daughter he gently rocked her and patted her back. It seemed to him that it went deeper than stubbornness. Flat out refusing help was mainly out of fear. He'd briefly skimmed the notes when Isa had been over debating taking on the case from the man's sister. Gently setting his baby girl down in her crib to sleep he hummed and gave her forehead a kiss. Now he could focus on his brother.

As he turned off the light he shuffled into the guest bedroom not wanting to wake his wife. Setting the baby monitor on the nightstand he sat down and sighed. "You know it as well as I do that handing this over wouldn't do much. It'd probably be passed over since no one would take on another agency's director. Besides, wouldn't really be fair to his sister since you did give her your word and we both know your word means a lot more than anyone else's. Being ridiculously stubborn in this case may not be a refusal to cooperate for the sake of fun but could be rooted in fear. You're talking a giant in the agency. That's not to be taken lightly and we can presume he's tried going up against her and he's failed. That is something you and him have in common."

"Put yourself in his shoes," shoes Eli knew Isa had been in with Jazz. "He's probably scared, you're essentially a stranger to him and doesn't know you from Adam nor can he be sure if you're actively there to help or part of the operation to silence whoever dares to speak out against this boss. He's alone. He's got a right to be frightened. You can't really blame him for that. You don't have to be his friend, you don't have to like him but you can understand him. Understand his desperation. You had me, had Lau to help. That's different than having a concerned and desperate sister willing to do what it takes for him. You're the life line she needs to protect her brother. And that is something I know you understand. Sibling love is unmatched. No matter how stubborn they get."

"If you miss your family that has an easy solution. We can fly down there. I've got vacation saved up, lau has been a little stir crazy and would love a trip somewhere other than our local grocery store. If that is really what's holding you back from focusing on this then I'll give Nettie a heads up in the morning and tell her know to pack the bags."

He brought up a few more points. "You knew walking into this it wasn't going to be easy. FBI don't easily share toys so you knew he wasn't going to be a walk in the park. Knowing all this didn't deter you though. You want to help and that's what separates you from the others. You said it's not loyalty he has for her okay so did he tell you more. Why he doesn't want to go against her?"

[hoshifighting]

staff!jeonghan

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, fame problems, paris trip, idol!reader is a sweetheart with her staff team, teasing, hair pulling, makeup smudging hair destroying sex, face slap, paris sex.

staff!jeonghan who started way back when your career was just taking off. you were still fresh, the kind of new that had people curious but not quite sold on the idea of you making it long term. jeonghan wasn’t even supposed to be sticking around. dude was just a freelancer, floating between gigs like it was nothing. hairdresser one week, stylist the next, maybe even photographer’s assistant if he felt like it. didn’t care much either—just did his job, got his check, and dipped.

he was there the first time you came in for a shoot, thinking, oh, here we go again, another idol who doesn’t know shit about shit, and probably treats their staff like trash. honestly, he didn’t expect anything from you. he had his walls up like crazy. you’d been doing this for, what, a hot minute? and you were already getting attention, which just made him think, “yep, this one’s probably the snobby kind. won’t even acknowledge us when she’s walking by.”

but then you went and did the most surprising thing—like blew his expectations out of the water kinda surprise. you saw him—no, not just like saw him, but like saw him. took a minute to actually chat. asked how his day was, if he needed anything while he was running around fixing the stage lights or whatever. you even remembered his name by the end of the first day, which? yeah, idols usually don’t bother with that.

fast forward a couple months, and jeonghan’s still hanging around. he didn’t plan to stay, but something about you changed that. it wasn’t even the work, really. it was more like you made things different for the whole staff—hairdressers, makeup artists, stylists, all of them. you had this habit of, like, breaking all the usual rules. you’d bring coffee for everyone in the morning, none of that half-assed, "just for my personal team" bullshit, you made sure everyone was taken care of, because they take care of you as welll.

then there was that time when you randomly called up your manager one day like, "hey, i’m taking everyone out to eat after the shoot." and jeonghan was standing there, trying not to look too surprised, but inside he was like, who the hell does that? especially in this industry where staff usually gets a handshake and a “thanks for your work” at most. while you’re out here throwing cash around to make sure your team is happy. it’s wild.

he remembers the first time you handed out those holiday bonuses. it wasn’t even from the company’s budget either; it was straight up from your own wallet. like, your money. you didn’t even make a big deal about it, just casually handed out envelopes and said, “merry christmas, you guys.” you should’ve seen their faces—everyone was shook, even him, and he doesn’t get surprised that easily. it was one of those moments where the room just, like, collectively inhaled. there was silence, and then someone—probably one of the stylists—goes, “y/n, this is... you didn’t have to...”

and you? you just shrugged, all casual, like it was no big deal. “nah, i wanted to. thank you for taking care of me, you make part of all of this too.” you pointed to the stage.

jeonghan couldn’t even look at you right for a second because it was, like, damn, okay, she’s for real. that was the moment he decided he wasn’t just gonna treat this gig like all the others. working with you? yeah, it felt different. and not in some sappy, fairytale shit kind of way, but in a “maybe there are still people in this industry who aren’t complete assholes” kind of way.

“so you’re sticking around, hannie?” you asked him one day, catching him off guard while he was fixing up your jacket right before a stage performance.

he smirked, his usual cocky, nonchalant self, but there was something softer underneath it. “guess i don’t have a choice. you make it too easy.”

he was your go-to guy now, the one you trusted with everything, from making sure your hair wasn’t fucked up during press tours to giving you a reality check when you were stressing over the dumbest things. and he liked that. he liked being the one you leaned on when you didn’t wanna bother anyone else.

but it was more than that too. you were just different. the way you treated people, the way you made sure everyone around you felt seen, felt valued? it wasn’t fake. it wasn’t for show. it was you. and jeonghan? well, he wasn’t the kind of guy to stick around just for anyone. but for you? yeah, maybe he’d go the long haul.

jeonghan was always there, like a constant shadow that somehow made everything feel lighter instead of heavier. as your career blew up, he didn’t just keep pace—he matched your energy, your needs, every twist and turn that came with your fame. whether it was press tours, backstage chaos, or those ridiculous interviews where some clueless host would try to push your boundaries, he was always ready.

you’d be in the middle of a tv show, mind racing, and then there’d be a subtle shift. jeonghan standing just offstage, watching with a sharp, gaze of his. and it wasn’t like he had to do much—sometimes just a look was enough to let you know he had your back. like that time they tried to switch up your routine last minute, making changes that didn’t sit right with you. you didn’t even need to speak up, though. before you could say a word, he was already stepping in, throwing that effortless, yet somehow intimidating smile toward the team. “nah, we’re sticking with the original plan. my artist doesn’t do changes without notice.”

“your artist,” you’d hear him say that a lot, like a protective label stamped right over you, like you belonged to him—not in a possessive way, but in a way that made you feel safe. secure.

it wasn’t just about the work either, not even close. jeonghan made the loneliness that came with fame feel less suffocating. that part of fame nobody talks about—the part where you can’t make real friends anymore, where every new person in your life feels temporary, transactional. except him. he was loyal.

when you had those long, grueling days full of photoshoots and interviews and events, and all you wanted was to escape, jeonghan was the one who made sure you still had a piece of normal.

like that one time in paris. you were there for a fashion show, sitting front row with all these industry giants who couldn’t care less about anything but themselves, and jeonghan was right beside you, but afterward, when it was just the two of you, he was the one who dragged you to some random hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the street, far from all the cameras and flashing lights, ordering too much food and laughing at how terrible your french was.

“you know, you’re lucky you’ve got me,” he teased, watching you struggle with the menu. “otherwise, you’d be stuck ordering water and bread for the rest of the trip.”

you elbowed him playfully. “i’m just trying to be cultured, okay?”

“sure, sure,” he snickered, but the grin on his face was soft, like he was glad to be there with you. “leave the culture to me.”

he was there on the quieter days too. you’d be at home, no schedule to follow for once, just free. but that freedom? it felt empty when you didn’t have anyone to share it with. jeonghan got that. he’d show up at your place without even needing an invitation, like he just knew when you needed him there. sometimes he wouldn’t even knock. you’d just hear the door click open and his familiar voice, “you better not be working in there.”

you’d laugh, shouting back from wherever you were in the apartment, “i’m not, calm down.”

next thing you knew, he’d be on the floor of your pristine living room, surrounded by lego pieces because, for some reason, that’s what the two of you did on your days off. it was ridiculous, really, two adults crouched over colorful plastic blocks, but it made you feel like a kid again, like before everything got so complicated.

you’d crouch down next to him, watching his hands move, and without thinking, you’d wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. it wasn’t even romaaaantic, more like instinct. jeonghan had this way of making you feel safe, like you didn’t have to be the perfect version of yourself all the time. you could just be you. and hugging him like that, clinging onto him like a koala, it was the only way you knew how to show him just how much he meant to you.

“you’re clingy today,” he murmured, but there was no complaint in his voice, just that familiar teasing.

“you’re soft,” you shot back, squeezing him tighter, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his cologne was subtle but always the same, something that reminded you of quiet, peaceful moments, like this.

he tilted his head a little, catching your eyes “oh, yeah? not what you said last time.”

you puffed your cheeks out, crossing your arms dramatically, the sulk settling in. “i’m done being clingy with you, jeonghan.”

he grinned like he was waiting for that exact reaction. it’s almost like he lived for these moments—when you’d pout and try to act all tough, but really? he knew exactly where this was headed. you weren’t fooling anyone, especially not him.

“oh yeah?” he tilted his head, gaze dripping with amusement as he leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “you sure about that?”

you tried to hold firm, but the way his voice dropped a little lower, teasing. you shifted your weight, crossing your legs under you on the living room floor, avoiding eye contact. “mmhmm. you’ll see.”

jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, leaning back and watching you with a glint in his eyes, like he was just waiting for you to crack. “you’re too cute when you sulk, y’know that?”

your heart fluttered, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek, determined to keep up the act. “whatever.”

he moved closer, a hand sliding around your waist, tugging you just enough so that your body leaned into his. “nah, don’t pout, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing lightly against your jaw. “we both know how this ends.”

and he was right. because, every time you tried to act like you were done with him, like you were going to keep your distance, it only ended one way—with you wet underneath him, a needy mess, begging for more.

like that first time in paris. paris had done something to the both of you. it was supposed to be a normal night, just you and him hanging out after the fashion show. nothing special, just another city on the endless list of places you’d been together. but somehow, that night went different. the second the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, you’d scarcely made it through the door before his hands were on you, grabbing, pulling, claiming.

“thought you were gonna keep your distance,” jeonghan had teased as he pressed you up against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, making your knees weak.

you were already panting, feeling the warmness of him beaming off his body. “shut up, hannie.”

he chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you, making you gasp. “aww, so cute when you’re needy.”

and fuck, were you needy. by the time he’d pushed you onto the bed, tugging at your clothes, you were already whimpering for him, already soaked.

he’d dragged you to the edge, rough hands all over your body, pulling, squeezing, leaving marks everywhere. your hair had been perfect for the show, all sleek and done up, but that shit didn’t last long. the second he had his fist tangled in it, pulling your head back, it was ruined. thrusting into you from behind, his cock splitting you in half with each brutal thrust. “such a fucking mess.”

you’d tried to keep quiet, biting down on the pillow as your body rocked with every movement, but every time you let out a whiny moan, jeonghan was right there to mock you for it.

“aww, hannie’s being too harsh?” he cooed, as he tries to sound sweet. “hm? poor baby can’t take it?”

you’d only moaned louder, your body trembling as he slapped your ass, the sting making you cry out. he’d leaned down then, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “use your words, sweetheart. tell hannie how bad you want it.”

you couldn’t even speak, just a mess of broken moans and gasps as he kept slamming into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room. and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were right on the edge, that’s when he did it. his hand came up to your face, smudging the glitter from the show as he slapped you—not enough to really hurt. he is a careful guy.

“fuck, y/n, look at you. such a pretty little mess,” he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he pounded into you from behind, relentless. “you gonna come for me? c’mon, baby, let me hear it.”

you whimpered, nodding, your mind spinning as his cock hit that perfect spot over and over, making you roll your eyes, drool, everything u had right of. but just as you were about to cum, he pulled out, leaving you empty and desperate.

“aww, no no no, not yet,” jeonghan cooed, a wicked grin on his face as he turned you onto your back, pushing your legs open wide. “hannie’s not done with you.”

your heart pounded, your entire body aching for release, but you didn’t dare move. he was in control, and you knew better than to push him.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours as he teased you. “too much?”

you shook your head, barely able to get the words out. “n-no… please…”

his smirk widened, that wicked glint in his eyes making you shiver. “please what? gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets as you looked up at him, desperate. “please… fuck me…”

“good girl.”

[yurunivo]

How would SAGAU!imposter cult au be like now that Natlan has been released?

It was revealed that most people of Natlan don't go outside their Nation, otherwise they will experience things like memory loss and will forget about their ancient name.

If we think about it, then they wouldn't really have a way to know about the chase for the imposter. The other nations could inform them, but they would probably be too busy to catch the imposter for themselves.

Imagine when you reach Natlan, you are so surprised by how nice the people were. You first saw the children of echoes, where you met Kachina. She was feeling awful by looking at the amount of scars you had, so she gave you some candy! You were sniffling back tears from the food that she gave, it's been so long since someone treated you with this much hospitality! She gave you food, water, clothes and even a place to stay within the children of echoes!

After a bit, she also introduced you to her friends! At first, you thought they wouldn't be as nice as Kachina, but they were also very kind to you! Mualani and Kinich were so nice to hang out with.

Eventually, you do meet the Pyro archon, Mavuika. You were scared to meet her, since she could easily turn everyone on your back, but to your surprise that didn't happen.

"You are our divine creator, are you not?"

You were scared to answer that, but you did, hoping you could finally escape this hell hole. Mavuika did nothing but make you feel comfortable. She allowed you to keep your identity hidden and stay in the children of echoes. She didn't tell anyone else about your identity, assuring you that nothing would happen to you.

However, your friends do find out. You were exploring Natlan with Mualani, Kinich and Kachina, until suddenly- you got a prick on your finger! You tried to stop the bleeding but they already saw. To say they were shocked was an understatement. They began apologizing, treating their creator so casually was definitely a sin! But you forgave them, how could you not?

Meanwhile, in the other nations, they found traces of golden blood around the places you used to be in. They are now panicking that they just hunted down their creator. They would get word about your whereabouts soon enough, even if you don't want them to.

(Full fic)