#i still don't even know if he can actually say this or if it's just a dead/untriggerable dialogue but. my god. actually hearing it finally

[muntitled]

Rabid

Pairings: Geum Seongje x Fem!Reader

Summary: You've figured if you paid him, then your debts would be settled and maybe... just maybe he'd let you go

Warnings: Language, Dom!Seongje, Gangsterism, Bullied!Reader, Angst, Neglect, Coercion, Bullying, Extortion, Absent Parents, Violence, Smut +18 (mdni), Sadomasochism, Sadist!Seongje, Fingering, Dark fic, Dubious consent, Exhibitionism, Desperate Sex, Humiliation, Degradation

A/N: Comissioned by @tojii11 ... as always I'm not responsible for the media you consume.

Since you've known him as of late, lying has become almost as voluntary as breathing. It should scare you, how fluidly a lie slips past the confines of your lips. Making you more and unrecognizable to even your own self.

"I'm tutoring late tonight."

"I’m studying at the library,"

“I'm having dinner with a friend.”

You didn't have many of those. Had your parents been the caring type they might have known that friends were a luxury you could not afford.

Still, it bothered you that you were making excuses for him. You were helping yourself get extorted everytime you stole for him and everytime you didn't let a living soul know.

The first few times were as difficult as it ever got. But the more you were forced to work for him, the more he corrupted you-the more that infection spread until it became all you were.

"What do you need that much money for anyway?" You squeeze your phone tighter with one hand while the other sits in your blazer pocket. You maintain a calm, controlled gait as you walk out of the school gates, surrounded by your peers dressed in the same uniform walking in clumps of groups- little ecosystems that they formed to help manage their anxieties. You wish you had their problems: Boys. Makeup. Parties.

You wish you had your own little ecosystem. A group who'd be more concerned with strengthening your mental health, not deteriorating it.

"You think school trips to Bali are gonna be cheap?" It was always easier to lie to her over the phone or through text. There was something biting in your mother's eyes that you couldn't always face. Something that would eat you alive if she found out you've been working for the kind of people you're working for.

"Backtrack on the attitude," her words snipe you through the receiver like barbed wire, "It's just strange that they're organizing a field trip in the height of your assignments like this..."

"It's an incentive I guess. They're telling us about it now for extra motivation to see this exam season through.." lies lies and more lies. Your mouth is full of them.

"I don't know if I want you to be thinking about a trip to Bali during all this work... have you been improving?"

There was no improvement with her. Only perfection. She tried your whole life to wipe you squeaky clean until you were spotless. If only she knew that over the past year you've acquired a spot almost impossible to scrub away. He's irremovable. Or at least you thought he was...

"When did you say your field trip was? Perhaps your father and I will tag along, make a family vacation out of it. We never see you anymore because you're always studying and Bali is lovely all-year round-" while your mother talks, your heart sinks and panic festers. You try to focus your steps on making it across the road, down a path you've walked all year.

"Mom, please don't be embarrassing."

"How am I being embarrassing?"

"You'll be the only parent there." Above you, the afternoon sun sits snugly against the horizon, guiding you down a decrepit lane. Stray cats and empty soju bottles litter the street the farther you walk from the safety of the school grounds. You're getting closer and you needed her to send the money.

"It's my money. I can do with it as I please."

You scramble your brain, searching furiously for a lifeline.

"It's just..." More and more lies, "This trip is actually just Geo-camp. Our teachers planned a few cave explorations. We're gonna check out the different stalactites and stalagmites-your presence might hinder my concentration-"

In the distance, the warehouse looms and your fist in your blazer pocket begins to coil.

"Why didn't you say so in the first place instead of wasting my time?” Your mother tsks, “I've sent the money to your account."

"Thank you ma'am..."

The call ends abruptly, void of any warmth. Void of any love. You pull your phone away from your ear and your nerves settle as you see the money reflecting. You suddenly feel bigger than this warehouse- bigger than life itself- like you're armed and ready to take on anything this rabid dog might throw at you.

You tilt your head back to watch the clouds disappear behind the iron roof and you steal your nerves. Word on the street is that this place once belonged to Baek Jin before his untimely disappearance. Until, naturally, a wolf came in and marked it as his own...

The nearer you get to the slightly opened door, the clearer the sound becomes: You hear the sound of a broken man groaning and your body has a visceral reaction. By now you recognize the sound of a fist slamming against human flesh and bone. You know what that sounds like and it haunts you through those quiet moments at night when it was just you and your memories. You fight the urge to stop walking, something in you tugging and begging to just walk away. It's either this or remain a slave for the rest of your foreseeable future.

That thought is enough to have you sucking in one final breath of air before waltzing into the warehouse. It's dark, the air damp and stuffy with little to no circulation. Despite the location, the interior is somewhat tidy and were it not for the man kneeling and bleeding on the floor, you might have thought the place fitting for any dignified bachelor.

“I didn't expect to see you today,” Seongje addresses you the moment you step in. His fist is paused in mid air and it's pulled back as if you'd just saved the man on the floor from experiencing one final blow.

He smiles at you, as if he didn't have blood on his knuckles. As if he didn't have a man on his knees, pleading for his life. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Seongje asks, before digging his fingers into the boys scalp. You hide your trembling hands in the pockets of your blazer and you appear as unaffected as you possibly can when Seongje tilts the man's face to look up at you. “This is Eungmin. He's very cute, very small.” Seongje smiles. “Eungmin is getting beat unconscious because he's been stealing some of my money for himself, isn't that right, Eungmin-a?”

The man’s left ise completely disappeared under a swollen mass of flesh. His skin is broken in several places- all is red and yet he still tries… “P-please-” his words are slurred. You can tell he's getting closer and closer to blacking out. His brain can't comprehend the words leaving his mouth and it's far too painful to watch. “My grandfather's sick and- I needed the money-”

“Sob, sob, sob, stories, Eungmin-a,” Seongje lets go of the man's head before tucking his hands into his pockets. Eungmin sways from side to side as Seongje rounds his bruised and battered body, tsking lightly like a scolding parent.

Before you're made witness to any more bloodshed, possibly even a murder, you grab your phone out of blazer pocket and with trembling hands you press a few buttons on your screen.

Seongje's phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pockets. He taps away at the device with bloodied fingers, his orange windbreaker stained with the same blood and for a moment, all is quiet.

Seongje stares blankly at his screen.

“What's this?” He asks without looking up.

Something in you tells you that you have the upper hand. Power has shifted, even minutely and it gives you the courage to reply back, “It's an incentive.”

Seongje's dark eyes finally flit up to you and you're arrested by that wolfish grin. “Big words.” He smirks. “You want a promotion or something?”

You ready your voice. “Actually, Seongje, I’m looking for a way out.”

More silence but this time, it's fucking suffocating. Even the man on the floor, the man who's experienced the very worst of Seongje's wrath has his mouth slightly open from shock.

“I never want to steal for you again. I never want to do anything for you again.” You find your voice in the rubble of your pain and all your anxieties that have gone unnoticed by the adults around you. “I never wanna see you again.”

He nods slowly. “I hear you.” Seongje's voice is calm. So calm it births a sliver of hope inside you: Maybe he'll just accept the money and you might actually be free. You could go back to being a girl forgotten by the rest of the world but this time, it'd be on your own terms. You'd love to be invisible again. Invisible girls don't get extorted like this.

“It's just… I'm really sensitive-”

The very moment those words leave his mouth, the moment a glimmer of a smile flits onto your lips, Seongje delivers a bone-cracking punch to the man's jaw.

You gasp and cup your mouth with both hands. Shocked.

The man slumps over, face hitting the floor. Knocked out cold.

“This is interesting.” Seongje says but you can't look away at the man laying on the ground. His body twitches periodically until there's barely any movement at all. Were you looking at someone passed out or were you staring at a corpse?

Soengje doesn't care about either outcome because he's already lighting a cigarette, standing as if pondering something else entirely.

“Where'd you get this money from?”

“D-Does-” you swallow thickly, “-it matter?”

He nods his head slightly before sticking the cigarette on the tip of his lips, “I could buy a million cig packs with this. The good kind too,” he chuckles, “Fuck, I could buy a fucking factory-”

“It's not that much-”

“Are you rich?” He asks suddenly, ramping up your nerves as he tucks his hands in his pockets to stalk closer towards you. “Have I been extorting a princess this whole time and I didn't know it?” You make your body an iron rod- your face cold. Something like him can't sense discomfort or he'll play with it.

“Not rich,” you say, “Just desperate…”

His feet stop directly in front of you and you keep your gaze there. Not daring to look up at him until he brings his own index finger under your chin, tilting it up.

“I like that word… Desperate.” He blows out a plume of smoke but not in your face. The small, gentlemanly act is almost laughable.

“Seongje, at this rate I'll be working for you for the rest of my life-”

“The rest of your life…” he nods slowly, looking away in a pensive manner before looking back at you, “That sounds fun, doesn't it?”

“Seongje- please just accept the money…”

“Are you calling me poor?”

“That's not what I'm saying at all and honestly, I feel like you know that's not what I'm saying-” your brows are furrowed, voice rising.

“So I'm delusional then?” He asks with a smile.

“Why do you get off on making yourself a victi-” his hand contracts around your throat and it tightens.

“Lemme stop you from saying what you wanna say because you really won't like the outcome.”

He squeezes one more time in warning before letting you go

“Why would I let you go? You're so perfect for me. We work well together.”

“Seongje, Please-”

“Shh… shh… shh…” he lets the cigarette hang off the side of his mouth before cupping both of your cheeks with both hands. He pushes back a stray braid and you tremble under the weight of not only his hands, but his gaze. His eyes are two endlessly cold voids. You don't wonder what's behind those eyes because you bet there's nothing there.

So focused, you've become, with Seongje's eyes, you barely notice his hand slithering down your neck. He feels you, touches you like he's just discovered something new…

“You've just made me more money than any of these useless scumbags ever have…” He stands closer and you watch as he opens his mouth to let the cigarette fall to the floor. You hear his foot stomp on it but your eyes are hazy with tears.

“I pride myself on being a good businessman… Letting you go?” He tsks, “That's not very good business.”

“Please, Seongje-”

“I do believe in rewards though so…” he lets his hand roam lower and lower. On its way down, he squeezes you tit through your shirt, causing a small gasp to slip through.

“Is it okay?” He asks in a low voice, “That im touching you like this?”

He waits patiently for a response that never comes. Truth is, you're completely and utterly overwhelmed. Caught in a web of feeling good and fucking terrible.

A tear falls.

“Shh,” he pats down your hair while all too slyly inching his hand up your skirt. “Seongje will make you feel better-”

You could tell him to stop, but your mind is clouded with all sorts of contradictions. You can't lie some more and say you don't find him even a little bit attractive. Isn't it fucking terrible how that works? This man has tormented you and yet-

“You're so wet, Princess,” you open your legs wider, only flinching when his fingers rub against your clothed cunt. You don't have the energy to look up at him, but you notice the visceral reaction his body is having from all this.

Over his shoulder, you notice the bloodied man unconscious on the floor.

“You just became wetter-” he whispers into your ear before cursing ever so lightly as his finger pushes aside your panties. You notice his movements becoming less controlled, far more hungry and you begin to pull away.

“Say it.” He urges, before fisting your neck in one tight grip. “I need you to say it.”

In a moment that feels unreal, Seongje pushes you backwards, forcing your feet into motion until he has you firmly pressed against a wall. “Say we work well together- tell me-”

You can't very well say much of anything because he's already sinking his index and middle finger into your cunt. Your mouth flies open and you're caught in a silent cry.

“Fuck- Look at how well we work together…” he says, bringing his fingers up to the light. He watches your slick coat, his fingers and something in you coils with disgust and immense pleasure.

His eyes immediately snap to you the second a small moan croaks out.

“F-Fuck-” you gulp in all the air you possibly can when his grip around your throat loosens. There's absolutely no space between you as he crowds you against the wall, staring down at you with the bad fluorescents reflecting against his glasses.

“You don't get to do that… You don't quit on me. I quit on you.” He's forcing his hand between your legs, this time he fucks you properly. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and a tear falls.

“Say sorry.” He taunts with another manic smile flitting across his face, “I want you to take my fingers and tell me how sorry you are-”

“F-Fuck Seongje-” your hips snap awards and you stare up at him with watery eyes- watery eyes that havr his cocktail straining against his pants. He brings you in close by the nape of your neck while he forces you down until your clit meets the palm of his hand.

“You keep looking at me like that and I'm gonna cum. And I hate cumming first.”

“Shit…” your eyes roll to the back of your head as you force yourself to grind down on his fingers. His hand around your throat is the only thing keeping you somewhat upright. You've slipped into that mental soace where you'll embarrass yourself to achieve orgasm. You needed this.

And him.

“What a greedy slut, huh? Tell me you're done with me. I want you to say it again-”

You can't say much of anything because you grab ahold of his wrist, keeping his fingers inside you as your orgasm crests and breaks.

You're screaming wildly, devoid of all rational thought, unprepared by the fact that a bleeding man still lays forgotten on the cold floor. All you feel is him. Jts all him and its suffocating.

You've quite literally found yourself in the clutches of a sadist and he's guiding You gently through your orgasm… patting your head down lightly like you were a delicate baby bird.

"Why would I ever let you go?"

[fairyhaos]

◇ the way you make me feel // choi seungcheol

seungcheol x gn!reader, 2.6k+ words

tags: requested by anon, established relationship, fluff, mild angst, seungcheol is sooo down bad oh lawwd

warnings: pet names, 1 vvv mild curse word ig?? (ass)

notes: any fic where i get to write besotted cheol is a great fic! might be slightly ooc but oh well. who cares. ty anon for this request <3

“I'm going to be very honest, honey… this feels like a sleeping arrangement for a couple that's just had an argument.”

You laugh a little at the mild pout on your boyfriend's face as he stares contemplatively at the bed after you've suggested a rather… interesting sleep method that he's never really heard of before. 

“It's really not,” you assure him. “Other couples do this all the time! And I thought it would be fun to try out too.”

Your boyfriend, Seungcheol, blinks at the bed before looking over at you, mystified. 

“Really? People want to do this?”

“Yes, Cheol.”

“Hm.” Seungcheol frowns. “What did you say this was called again?”

“The Scandinavian Sleep Method,” you say cheerfully, hopping over to the drawers with all the different duvets and duvet covers that you and your boyfriend have collected over the years you've been living together. “Isn't it such a great idea? We sleep in the same bed, but we each have a different duvet so we get better sleep but still get to be next to each other.”

You begin pulling out different duvets, inspecting them and continuing to chatter as you do so. 

“I know how much you love weighted blankets, but you know they're not something I'm a big fan of,” you say. “And you really hate my fluffy covers, for some reason. But if we sleep this way, then both of us can sleep happily without causing disturbance to the other's sleep quality!”

With a flourish, you turn back round to Seungcheol, the offending weighted blanket and fluffy cover in your hands, as if emphasising your point. There's a bright beam on your face, evidently eager to try out this new idea, but Seungcheol? 

He's still looking a bit hesitant. 

Which, understandable. You're introducing a new sleeping arrangement three years after you've been quite happily living together. Anyone would find that weird. 

“If we don't like it, we can switch back,” you assure him. You shrug. “It's just a trend I saw online, Cheol. I thought it would be cool.”

Seungcheol pauses, and then smiles, nodding once. “Fine, fine. Let's try out, then. We'll see if the Scandinavians actually sleep well.”

You cheer, dropping the bedding and skipping across the room to launch yourself into Seungcheol’s arms. He catches you easily, laughing as he does so, amused at how delighted you are by his acceptance. 

“Yes! I love you. Now I get to make the bed all aesthetic with different layered sheets!”

Seungcheol laughs again. “All right, sweetheart. Tell me if you need more sheets to fit in with your vision, okay? I'll buy you whatever you need.”

“Oh my god, suddenly I love you even more.”

───────────── 🗝

Admittedly, Seungcheol does love hearing you say that you, the absolute love of his life, love him (and any self-respecting boyfriend would feel the same), but he's wondering if this entire thing is really, really all that worth it. 

Because, well. 

Seungcheol hates the Scandinavian Sleep Method. 

He harbours no hatred towards the Scandinavians themselves, of course, but their sleep method, for him, well and truly sucks. 

Of course, he can understand why people like it. There are aspects he doesn't mind, too: such as how it's currently way less likely for him to wake up at 4am with a cold ass because you've stolen half the covers from him again. Or how he doesn't have to worry about the fluffy, fuzzy feeling of your sheets pressing creepily soft kisses against his ankles. Or how he can now actually sleep peacefully without finding that he's been suffocated by your weight on his chest because now, you actually sleep on your side of the bed. 

Nevertheless, he hates this. 

Unfortunately, he can't bring himself to say anything about this, because—

“I seriously think my quality of sleep has improved so much,” you say to Seungcheol one Sunday morning, beaming over your cup of coffee as he makes breakfast waffles for you. “The Scandinavians really know what they're talking about, huh?”

And your eyes are bright, sparkling as you say this, so full of life even though it's nine in the morning on a Sunday. 

So Seungcheol smiles back, happy purely because you're happy, even though if you really pressed him, he'd admit that he's not really happy at all. 

“I guess they do,” he says, turning back to the waffles. “Do you want honey with the waffles? Or the new maple syrup I bought you?”

“Ooh, maple syrup, please!”

And then Seungcheol had done all sorts of fancy tricks with the bottle of maple syrup, and you had clapped your hands and laughed, delighted, and Seungcheol felt a little better, the weight of his guilt that he didn't share your opinion beginning to lighten. 

There's no real big reason why he hates this sleeping arrangement. Sure, it stops all your bad sleeping habits, but, truthfully, he… misses all those things. 

He misses waking up to you all huddled up in the blankets, looking all small and adorable whilst swathed in the thick fabric. He misses cuddling you close and entangling his legs with yours in order to escape from the weird fluffy texture of your sheets. He misses feeling the comforting weight of you asleep against his chest, warm and secure like the physical manifestation of his soul, safely tucked against his side. 

Now, you simply smile at him, face shiny and soft from your skincare routine, and give him a peck on the cheek goodnight before snuggling under your duvet, away from him, in your own little bubble of comfort. 

Without him. 

It makes him feel like an abandoned dog left in the rain outside of his owner's home. 

Excuse him for being dramatic, but he's literally slept with you curled up in his arms for a very, very long time now. And these days, now that you're no longer with him and are miles away on the other half of the bed, he can't fall asleep by himself. 

Withdrawal symptoms from cuddling must be a thing, because he's going through them right now. 

“Just talk about how you feel, then,” is what any sane person would say about this matter, which is very good, very sound, advice. 

However, it's also what Joshua says to Seungcheol when he complains to him about the new sleeping arrangement, and everyone knows Joshua is the least sane person in existence, so Seungcheol decides to ignore his advice. 

Joshua rolls his eyes, used to but not pleased by Seungcheol's stubbornness. 

“You're being silly,” he says, when Seungcheol vetoes his suggestion. “This is obviously impacting your sleep quality in a negative way, which is the exact opposite of what Y/N was hoping for.”

“But Y/N seems to be sleeping better,” Seungcheol argues. He rubs his eyes, and the world spins a little as he does so. “So I probably shouldn't say anything, right?”

“No, you should say something,” Joshua says firmly. “What do you think Y/N will do when it becomes obvious that this new arrangement is actively harming you, and yet you didn't say anything? Hell, if I found out my boyfriend wasn't telling me that kind of stuff, I'd get really mad.”

Seungcheol frowns. “What? Why?”

“Because you're my boyfriend?” Joshua says. “Uh—not actually mine, obviously. But that's how Y/N would feel. You need to communicate your feelings. That's what couples do.”

Joshua takes a sip of his tea, spinning around in Seungcheol's desk chair in his study whilst Seungcheol, the owner of the chair, is currently exiled to the small wooden stool beside it. 

“Just think about how you'd feel if you were in Y/N's shoes. How would you feel if your partner wasn't telling you that they're sleeping badly and feeling increasingly more terrible throughout the weeks because of something that could be easily fixed by them talking it out with you?”

And oh, now Seungcheol understands. Now it makes more sense. He'd want you to communicate your feelings immediately. 

Joshua must see the revelation on Seungcheol's face, because he snorts smugly. “I knew you'd get there in the end.”

“Shut up,” Seungcheol grumbles, and Joshua mocks him for how ridiculously macho-man he was being before. “I'll talk to Y/N about this tonight.”

“Well done,” Joshua says amusedly, spinning around in Seungcheol's chair so fast that its joints, even as expensive and well-oiled as they are, begin to groan in surprise. “I'm so proud of you.” 

 “Shut up,” Seungcheol says again, and Joshua laughs. “And get off my chair.”

“Hmph! You're so mean. I bought this chair for you, you know.”

“No, you didn't.”

“No, I didn't. But you believed me for a second, didn't you?”

“Definitely not. Now get out of my house before Y/N gets home.”

───────────── 🗝

It's one of those very, very rare days where you finish work later than Seungcheol, and so when you unlock the front door and finally make it inside, you're more than ready to just fall into your boyfriend's arms. 

Except, the entire ground floor of your house is dark when you get home.

“Where is he?” you say to yourself, mystified. “Cheol? Where are you?”

“In our room!” he calls back from upstairs, and you take off your coat and shoes, dumping your bag by the doorway and bounding up the stairs two at a time to get to your boyfriend. 

“Seungcheol! Why were the hallway lights off? Have you eaten dinner yet? What's— wait, what are you doing?”

In the middle of your bed, right over where the two halves of your bedding meet, Seungcheol is sprawled out in an upside down starfish shape, staring up at you balefully as you walk into the room, and you laugh a little at the state your boyfriend is in. 

“Hello,” you say amusedly. “You look like you're sulking.”

Seungcheol just continues to blink up at you like a displeased cat. 

You laugh again, bending down and kissing him on the forehead. “Definitely sulking, I see. What's wrong, baby? What happened?”

There's a long moment where Seungcheol doesn't say anything, and you continue to smile down at him, petting his hair fondly. And then, he frowns, and speaks. 

“What do you think of our bed?”

You look over at the head of the bed, scanning it briefly. “I think it looks fine.”

It's apparently the wrong thing to say, because Seungcheol frowns harder. 

“Why? Do you not like it?”

“I don't like it,” Seungcheol says, and sits up, turning around to face you. “I don't like this sleeping arrangement.”

You tilt your head. “Oh? I thought you didn't mind the Scandinavian Sleep Method.”

Seungcheol sighs. “I lied,” he admits. “I actually hate it so much. It's the worst thing in the entire world.”

Your face softens in worry, feeling something thick and bitter rising to your throat at the idea that you've been forcing Seungcheol to go through with something he hates. 

“I'm sorry,” you say sincerely, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I didn't realise. You should've said something, Cheol. I would've changed back in an instant.”

Seungcheol, for how big and manly and good at acting as your guard dog he is, still always melts under your touch, and the moment you wrap your arms around his neck, he softens into your embrace, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“Would you really?” he asks, muffled into your blazer, and you belatedly realise that you're still in your work clothes. You haven't even washed your hands. 

“Of course I would,” you say in your best don't be silly voice. “I don't want you to be feeling bad.”

His hands wrap around your waist, warm and comforting and he pulls you in closer, hugging you even tighter. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I feel like I'm being stupid. This isn't even anything big. It just… makes me feel really terrible, and I don't know why.”

“Hey, that's totally okay,” you say placatingly, threading your fingers through his hair and patting him consolingly on the back. “I told you we didn't have to carry on with this, baby. I said we could switch back whenever we wanted to.”

He squeezes you tighter, arms wrapping more securely around you. “I still feel bad. You liked this sleeping method.”

You laugh softly, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Yes, but not as much as I like you.”

If possible, he seems to melt even further into you at those words, and you smile, adoring how clearly he adores you. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” you say affectionately, kissing Seungcheol's ear before untangling yourself from his embrace. “Let's start remaking the bed then, hm?”

You pull away from his arms, and Seungcheol is staring at you with big eyes, irises all melty soft. And then he nods, smiling slightly, looking like a pleased puppy as he gets off the bed and begins helping you take the covers off the duvets. 

───────────── 🗝

It's unusual for Seungcheol to be so shy like this—normally, he's the one telling you to be more outspoken, more confident, so it's a nice change. You quite like being able to reassure him, gently tell him what to do, praise him and shower him with love in the way that he always does with you. 

“So why did you hate the Scandinavian Sleep Method?” you ask him a bit later as the two of you sit in front of the washing machine, watching it spin your bedding round and round. Seungcheol had insisted that you wash all of it right away, because otherwise the two of you were bound to put it off for a whole month. 

Your boyfriend shrugs. He watches the bedding get spun in circles again and again and again. 

And then, he finally looks at you, clad in your classic two-piece cotton pyjamas, hair all a mess, your face softened and natural now that you've washed up for the night, all ready to go to bed. 

You look so pretty like this, so open and comforting and god, Seungcheol had missed you. 

Even though he sees you every day. But that's whatever. He's missed being this close with you at night, in this kind of domestic setting, where it's just the two of you pressed close together in your house as the rest of the world sleeps. 

“That sleeping arrangement…” he begins quietly, and you look up. 

“Hm?”

Seungcheol holds your gaze very seriously as he continues. “It didn't let me hug you.”

You blink. “What?”

“It didn't let me hug you,” he repeats, as serious as ever, and you want to laugh in fondness because it really is that serious for him. “I couldn't cuddle you to sleep. I hated that.”

“Oh,” you say, positively melting away at his reason, so unbelievably in love with him that your heart is goo in your chest. “That's so sweet, Cheol, oh my god.”

You lean over and pinch his cheek, cooing over him, and he bats your hand away with a groan, smiling. 

“Go away,” he grumbles, but it's so full of warmth that the words carry no weight whatsoever.

“But then you can't cuddle me in your sleep,” you say, pouting exaggeratedly. “Unless… you don't wanna cuddle me any more?” 

You gasp dramatically, leaning away from him for full effect, and then yelp when he grabs you by the waist and pulls you into his side, preventing you from moving away. 

“Don't say silly things like that,” he reprimands teasingly, laughter tinging the ends of his words. He kisses your shoulder. “Of course I want to cuddle you. It's the only thing I'll be doing every night from now on.”

“That's awfully cheesy,” you point out. “Sap.”

“It's all your fault.”

“Huh, I suppose it is,” you say proudly, snuggling into your boyfriend. “Glad to know I have such an effect on you.”

Seungcheol sighs, fond, and kisses your shoulder once again. “Oh, if only you knew.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa  @weird-bookworm  @minhui896  @slytherinshua  @haowrld  @belladaises  @moonlitskiiies  @mirxzii  @zozojella  @kawennote09  @a-wandering-stay  @abibliolife  @wonranghaeee  @icyminghao  @sweet-like-caramel  @your-yxnnie  @odxrilove  @kyeomyun  @crackedpumpkin  @kellesvt  @eightlightstar  @onlyyjeonghan  @aaniag  @starshuas  @raevyng  @isabellah29  @hrts4hanniehae  @mcu-incorrect  @dokyeomkyeom  @suraandsugar  @tulsa24  @melodicrabbit  @dokyeomkyeom  @hopeless-foolery @aaa-sia

[fromdove]

SMELLS LIKE YOU'VE BEEN COPING ! jason todd x reader

“I am so high right now,”

— jason coming home to you high, mention of being high & weed, gn reader (but written with fem reader in mind) jason smokes weed (this is so real to me)!! stoner todd

© fromdove— All rights reserved. Reposting, translation, or modification of these works is strictly prohibited, regardless of whether credit is given.

∿　 　 . `💭` ㆍ

You smelled him before you saw him.

Smoke — bitter, herbal, laced with something earthy and sharp. Weed. The expensive kind he only used when he was actually physically hurting. It clung to him like it had crawled into every thread of his hoodie and kissed his skin on the way out.

The door clicked shut softly behind him, and he stepped inside like he wasn’t two hours later than he said he’d be. like he owned the place. Eyes heavy-lidded. Movements slow, deliberate, like he’d edited the speed of real life down to 75%.

Hood up. Hands in his pockets. Lazy in that way only he could be — like the world didn’t get to tell him how to carry his pain.

“Hey, baby,” he drawled, voice rough and low. “Miss me?”

Your arms crossed automatically. “You're high.”

Jason looked up. His eyes were bloodshot and half-lidded, the corner of his mouth tugged up like he was already amused.

“I’m walking, talking, and not bleeding out. I call that a win.”

You didn’t smile. “You said you weren’t going to.”

“I said I’d try not to. Then my ribs started screaming halfway through patrol, and weed doesn’t come with a side of addiction or a lecture from Alfred.”

You just stare.

He held up both hands. “My ribs hurt like hell. What do you want me to do, take a bubble bath and wish on a star?”

“I want you to stop setting your lungs on fire. I don't want your lungs looking like Gotham’s sewer system”

He raised an eyebrow and walked over, slow and unbothered. Everything about him moved on a delay when he was like this. That smug tilt to his mouth, that slouch in his shoulders — he was feeling himself tonight, high and warm and a little bullet sore.

He dropped down beside you, stretching his long legs out and throwing one arm lazily over the back of the couch.

“You worried about me, angel?”

“You reek like a dispensary. A cheap one.”

“Hey,” he said, mock-offended. “This was premium pain relief. Organic. Grown with love. Hand-rolled by yours truly. I’m basically a sommelier at this point.”

You leaned away slightly, nose wrinkled. "you reek."

He grinned, leaned down until his nose brushed your cheek. “Missed you too, angel.”

You pushed his chest. “Don’t act cute. You didn’t text. I thought something happened.”

Jason’s smile faltered. Not all the way — just enough to show the crack behind the grin. He leaned back and rubbed a hand over his face.

“Yeah,” he said, softer now. “I know. I’m sorry. Should’ve called.”

You looked at him — really looked. His jaw was tight. His hoodie was clean but wrinkled, like he’d put it on after changing out of something soaked in sweat or blood. His eyes had that gloss to them, but not in the way that made you worry. Just… dulled.

“I don’t get high to disappear,” he muttered. “I just… I hurt. It helps. Doesn’t mean I don’t hear your voice in my head about it.”

“Oh yeah?” You moved closer beside him, tucking your legs under you. “What’s my voice say?”

Jason smiled again — slower, this time. Almost real. “Says, ‘Jason Peter Todd, if you ruin your lungs I’m not pushing your wheelchair when you’re forty.’”

You snorted despite yourself. “Damn right.”

He reached over lazily, arm slung across your shoulders.

For a minute, neither of you spoke. His fingers played absently with the hem of your sleeve. His breathing slowed, deepened. He always got a little clingy when he smoked — mellow, touchy, like the armor cracked just enough for the softness underneath to breathe.

“C’mere,” he said, tugging you closer anyway. “Lemme love you while I still can feel my legs.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t resist. You moved even closer. He was warm. Always warm, even when he was being a pain in the ass. You pressed a kiss just beneath his eye.

“Come to bed,” you whispered. “You can hold me till it wears off.”

He sighed against your hair.

“I’d hold you even if it didn’t.”

[theliving-radio]

Sorry If this one is too confusing 😭 

So basically NRC (maybe Ortho too but platonic love) with a s/o that got turned into a cat by a potion mix-up, not naming names Grim and Adeuce 👀 (also, maybe reader could be like a maine coon? Idk but I love the idea of reader was a cat they would be bigger than grim but any cat is cute 😖) but the twist is that s/o is not a normal cat, but actually a flerken (If you don't know what that is, it's basically a space cat from marvel) So when Idia is petting them too aggressive or Floyd is squeezing them too tightly or if anyone is annoying them, they just open their mouth and swallow them up like a fckin snack, and maybe spit them back out when they're in a good mood leaving them so fckin traumatized. And the people witnessing it are like 🧍

I know about the Flerken! I used to be such a huge ass Marvel fan so many years ago! I fell off the band wagon right after Avengers: End Game. I even have an old fanfic posted on Wattpad for Marvel… I… haven’t worked on it in such a long time…

Please don’t attack me lol

Anyway, instead of just every character at once, I did every dorms reaction. Just to add some spice and fun to the mix!

And for the funnies

Warning: human consumption (but not gory or bloody. Just pocket dimension stuff), not part of the Big Brother Malleus writing, can be romantic or platonic (Ortho is clearly platonic)

And I do apologize for taking so long on writing this! Get distracted really easily.

Like REALLY easily. Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

“… Oops?”

Grim had no idea how it happened. He didn’t! You couldn’t possibly blame him for accidentally mixing up your drink with the potion assignment he was supposed to turn in!

But here you guys were, back in Ramshackle. Him looking up at your now fluffy fur body.

Cat.

You were now a cat.

“Listen, I can fix this!”

“Mrep…”

“Don’t doubt me hench… cat?”

Your cat self rolled its eyes and stood up on all fours. Before Grim was able to say anything, you picked him up by the scruff of his neck with your mouth and trotted out of Ramshackle.

The scene looked like a mother cat dragging away her baby kitten.

“MRAH! Let me go! I command it!”

You ignored him and went straight to the mirror chamber, hoping that one of your friends in the dorms will help you.

Heartslabyul

Ace and Deuce started losing their shit as soon as they saw Grim being dragged by a larger cat in the Heartslabyul garden.

“Grim, Who’s the fluffy one?” Deuce covers his mouth to hide his smile.

“Did you finally find your parent figure?” Ace teased.

“CAN IT, ACE!” You plop Grim down and trot over to Deuce who bent down to give you scratches.

Grim dusts himself off, grumbling under his breath. “I could have walked just fine! You didn’t have to drag me all the way here!”

You ignored Grim as you happily laid down in the grass and rolled over. Deuce’s eyes practically sparkled when you presented your belly to him, and he carefully rubbed it, making you purr happily.

“Mrah! Henchmen! Stop being difficult!” Grim shouted, his words causing Deuce to stop giving you pets and Ace to let out a strangled wheeze.

“P-prefect!?”

“Oh Sevens! What did you do this time!?” Ace crouches a bit as he begins laughing once again.

Grim crosses his arms and looks away. “I didn’t do anything! It was… it was them! They shouldn’t leave their stuff around in the first place!”

Offended! Scandalized! Wrong!

You picked yourself up from the grass and walked over to Grim…

Then swatted him.

“MRAH!?” Grim lets out a startled sound as he rubs his head. Before he was able to ask why you did that, you swatted him again. And again. And again.

Ace was on the grass floor laughing his ass off. It was like watching a cat hitting their child if they misbehaved.

“I would assume you’re finished painting the roses.” Ace stops his laughing and looks over to see Riddle, Cater, and Trey walking over. Riddle squints his eyes at the roses, seeing some of them still white and untouched by the crimson red paint.

“D-dorm Leader Riddle! We uh- we actually have a good reason why we aren’t finished!” Deuce tries to explain as he picks you up and shows you to the three upper class-men.

Cater gasps as he takes his phone out, quickly snapping photos of your fluffy figure. You only blinked at him and tilted your head, causing the ginger to squeal. “Oh my Sevens! They are totes adorbs!”

“A cat?! Why is there a cat here?” Riddle asks, his face showing confusion before he lets out a gasp. “The Hedgehogs! Are the hedgehog’s safe?! Did this cat do something!?”

“I’ll go check on them right now-!”

“There is no need to do that!” Deuce cuts Trey off. “This is the Prefect!”

There was a long pause between all the Heartslabyul students. The Three upper class-men processing what the first year just said. Riddle stares at Deuce and Ace before opening his mouth. “… what did you two do?”

Deuce sputters and Ace quickly looked offended. “We didn’t do anything! Grim was the one that did this!”

“Mew.” You let out a small meow and Cater broke out from his shock and started rapidly taking pictures once again.

Riddle groans as he takes a deep breath. Inhale, exhale… he didn’t want to blow his head off in front of the Prefect after all. “Grim, explain to me… what you gave the Prefect.”

“How am I supposed to know?! It’s their fault their water bottle and the potion bottle looked the same!”

“What was the potion you made?” Grim went quiet when Riddle asked the question. The dire-beast mumbles something under his breath and Riddle’s eye twitches. “Repeat that again.”

“It was supposed to be a Sleepy time potion! To help the drinker sleep better!”

“HOW DID YOU FULLY MESS THAT UP?!” Riddle full on shouts at Grim, causing the poor, small feline cat to flinch. “A Sleep potion? You messed up a SLEEP potion???”

“Riddle-,” Trey tries to calm Riddle down, but Riddle fully ignores him.

“In what universe could you possibly mix up a Sleep potion for a transfiguration potion?! And you didn’t even bother to check what you brought first before handing it to the Prefect?!”

Riddle continues going off on Grim, scolding him nonstop.

It was too noisy.

Your maw opens, an eldritch presence unnoticed by the others in the room, solely focused on Riddle. A single pink, flesh like tendril lulls out.

Targeting Riddle.

Nobody was able to progress what happened, it went by so fast. One second Riddle was standing right between Cater and Trey, the next he was gone. All they were able to see was a flash of… something… coming from you.

Deuce was the first one to snap out of it and let out a scream, dropping you in the process. Thank Sevens for cat-like reflexes! You landed perfectly on all hours and grabbed ahold of Grim once again, and bolted out of the Heartslabyul dorm.

Trey blinks at where Riddle was once standing, then the universe snaps him out of it. “W-wait! Hold on!”

“Suddenly… Prefect isn’t as cute as a cat anymore.” Cater spoke up as he watched Trey sprint towards the direction where you left.

“Would they even be considered a cat after what we just saw?! What the hell are they?!”

“I was giving them belly rubs this whole time… they could have eaten me too…” Deuce looks at his own hands in horror. Meanwhile Ace was cursing at the sky, and Cater was swiping through his photos he took of you.

Savanaclaw

Leona let out a loud snort when he saw Grim squirming around and getting dragged by a larger, fluffier cat then him. He had to cover his mouth to hide his smirk that threatened to break across his face.

You decided to try your luck in Savanclaw in hopes maybe Leona would help you out. He was in his third year after all!… even though he’s been held back a few times already due to being lazy and not giving a damn. Either way, you hope the lion beat-man can help.

“Prefect! Stop dragging me! You are the henchman, and I am the great mage! I should not have to be treated like this! And what was that from earlier! Why did you eat him?!”

Leona was on his way out to the botanical gardens to nap and get away from his noisy dorm. Now, he is more interested in what the hell is going on.

“Oui, Grim… who’s your new friend? Did you finally get a parent figure to treat your spoiled hind?” Leona couldn’t help tease the dire-beast as he strode over to the two of you.

When you spotted Leona making his way over to you, you casually dropped Grim off. When he was released, Grim immediately ran and hid behind Leona.

“Oui, what do you think you're doing? Get off.”

“No way! I ain’t getting close to the Prefect, after they turned into that… that thing!”

Leona looks over at your new fluffy body…

You were currently grooming one of your paws and rubbing it against one of your kitty ears.

“You turned the Prefect into a harmless house cat?”

“They ain’t a normal house cat! Nor are they harmless!”

As you were cleaning yourself, you felt a hand grab you from the nape of your neck and pulled you up. Leona held you in front of him and sniffed you… just by your scent alone he was able to confirm it was indeed you. But there was also something off with your scent, something unnatural…

“Housewarden Leona!” Leona pulls you away from him and glances over to where the voice came from, noticing Jack and Ruggie making their way over to him. Ruggie was currently eating a donut that Jack offered him just a while ago. He was even going to offer some to Leona.

“Ah, what’s with the fuzz ball?” Ruggie glances over at you and then see’s Grim hiding behind Leona’s leg, taking a bite from his guilty treat. “And what’s got you so spooked?”

“Leona, is that the prefect?” Jack speaks up.

“You smell them too, right? Yeah it’s them. Putting two and two together, I’m guessing Grim messed up some sort of potion.”

“I didn’t mess anything up!” Grim tries to protest as he looks up at Leona.

Ruggie snickers as he goes to take another bite from his donut… he never got the chance.

You lick your chops, eyes focused on the pastry in Ruggie’s possession. He noticed your intent a second too late, unable to protect his treat as you collect it like picking up a mug before swallowing it whole via tentacle.

Everyone went quiet.

You let out a small burp.

“MY DONUT!”

“THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE CONCERNED ABOUT?!”Jack yells at the Hyena beast-men. “Did you not see what shot out of the Prefect's mouth?!”

“See? See?! I told you!” Grim points his paw at you while looking up at Leona. Meanwhile the Dorm Leader wasn’t sure on what to do in this situation.

Sensing how Leona was unsure what to do, you decided it was time to go.

When you began to approach Grim, he took a step back. “Mrah! You stay away, Henchmen!” Ah, so he was gonna be difficult…

Before Grim was going to protest once more, a single tentacle shoots out of your mouth and grabs him. All three of the Savanaclaw students just watched in horror as you gobbled up Grim.

And went on your merry way.

“… I think I’m just gonna go take a nap in my room.”

“I’m suddenly not hungry anymore…”

“… shouldn’t we go after them?!”

Both Ruggie and Leona walk away from Jack. Not that concerned about what happened, or want to be part of it.

Octavinelle

“Jade?”

“Yes, Azul?”

“Can you explain to me why there is a cat sitting on the lounge bar?”

You sat upon the bar, lounging without a care in the world. When you left Savanaclaw, you hoped that maybe Azul would help out. Unfortunately Jade found you and decided to give you chin scritches.

You really enjoyed those.

Right beside you was a bowl of water and a small plate of cooked mushrooms that Jade really wanted you to try out. He wanted to see if cats could really eat mushrooms. Since you weren’t fully a cat, they should be fine… right?

“I found them in the dorm, they looked so hungry and lost… and I couldn’t just let them be.”

“… so you decided to feed them mushrooms…”

Jade smiles as he watches you sniff your plate before digging in. He’s been watching you eat the Turkey Tail Mushroom for 20 minutes now. This was actually your second plate, and Jade was more than pleased when he saw you scarf down the first.

“These mushrooms better not be harmful! I don’t want a dead animal to scare off our customers.”

“Don’t worry, these types of mushrooms are nonlethal to both dogs and cats.” Jade assures Azul as he gently pets your head, causing you to lean into his touch and purr. Azul only squints his eyes at you, placing his hand on his chin as he comes up with an idea.

“Why don’t we use them to lure in some customers? They seem well behaved.”

Just when you heard Azul say that, you sat up and jerked your body a bit. Azul panics, thinking the worst. “Jade, you said those were nonlethal!” The dorm leader looks at Jade, who looked just as confused as they watched you make coughing sounds and your body jerking.

Then you spit out a large hairball.

A hairball that shouldn’t come out of a cat.

Jade and Azul step back as they just stare in shock as Grim was laying on the lounge's bar face down, covered in saliva.

You went back to eating.

Grim lets out a gasp like he’s been holding his breath the whole time he was inside your dimensional body. He was able to breathe just fine, he didn’t have to be so dramatic.

Drama queen.

“Grim?! What in Sevens?!”

“FIX THEM!”

Grim scrabbles to Azul, only for the Octo-mer to back away from the slimy dire-beast.

“I don’t care if I have to sign a contract! Just fix the Prefect!”

“Oya~? Is that the prefect?” Jade looks in amusement as he watches you finish another plate of mushrooms. Maybe he should have given you something… better to eat.

Azul pushes his glasses up as he glances over to you. Grim didn’t turn you into some type of house cat… no, this was more weird than that.

“Eeh~ What’s with the kitty cat?” Before Azul was able to come up with a good idea to turn you back… and to scam Grim… Floyd walked into the lounge.

You looked over at the eel twin and saw his smile widen as he began to approach you.

Red alert!

Danger!

Activate distraction!

Your body starts jerking again and you cough off something much larger. Something more human like…

Floyd stops in his tracks as he watches you cough up a slime covered Riddle. The poor redhead was staring up at the ceiling, his eyes filled with horror and disbelief.

At least he’s more calm now.

Floyd bursts out laughing as he sees Riddle, the laughter causing him to snap out of it and to finally take in his surroundings. Jade was intrigued by events that were unfolding. Azul stared in horror at the slime that was getting all over the lounge floor, wondering if it would stain at all.

Distraction successful!

You take this as your cue to leave, this time not even bringing Grim with you.

“H-hey! Prefect! Get back here!” Azul chases you as soon as you see an opportunity to escape the Ocavinelle dorm.

As you run, all you hear behind you is Floyd laughing at Riddle's misfortune, and Riddle trying to inform Jade on what’s happening with you.

Scarabia

“Jamil! Jamil, look!”

Jamil was currently finishing up the dishes when he heard Kalim come running into the dorm's kitchen. He lets out a sigh, mentally preparing what Kalim was going to show him. When he turned around to face the dorm leader, it wasn’t as bad as he was expecting it to be.

Kalim was holding you out to Jamil, showing you off to his best friend. You slow-blink at Jamil who only stared at you with indifference. When he looks up at Kalim, he just expresses how unimpressed he was.

“I found this cat trying to get into the dorm!”

“… and you just let them in?”

“They might be hungry and are trying to look for food!” Kalim smiles as he changes his position on holding you, now cradling you in his arms.

You weren’t hungry after your mushroom meal, but you were thirsty. Thankfully, Jamil was able to pick up on that and began to prepare of bowl of water for you. Right as he laid it out for you, Kamil was more than happy to put you down right in front of the bowl.

“Can we keep them?”

“Kalim, you don’t need a pet cat. And it would be a terrible idea to keep them in the dorm. Look how thick their fur is, they would overheat, I wouldn't be too surprised if you hadn’t found them, they would have blacked out.”

Jamil's words caused Kalim to deflate just a bit, but he was able to bounce back up. “What if we find them a new home? That way they would be taken care of and be comfortable!”

Jamil already felt a headache starting to form.

In the corner vision, you see something scitter across the kitchen counter. You lick your lips as you pick your head up the water bowl and zeroed in on the small bug…

It was a harmless beetle.

But you knew for a fact that Jamil wouldn’t think so.

When the vice house warden saw your attention drawn away from the water, he looked at what you were staring at… only to tense up when he saw the beetle.

“Kalim…”

“I see it! Don’t worry, I got it!” Kalim was more than happy to help. The sweet sunshine child went to grab a napkin and a glass cup. When Kalim retrieved his items, he turned towards the beetle and slowly began to approach the counter.

But this wasn’t just any type of beetle.

This bitch had wings.

As soon as Kalim made his first step, the thing spread its wings out and started to take off. The house warden let out a startled yelp, and Jamil was ready to scream bloody murder as he grabbed his magic pen.

As much as you would have loved to enjoy this little chaotic show, you didn’t want to be in the crossfire between Jamil and his magic.

Before any spells were casted, you opened your mouth and a large tendril slipped out and grabbed hold of the beetle, and just as quickly… you drew it back in and swallowed the thing.

Like a frog.

Both Kalim and Jamil stared down at you; the silence in the room felt loud.

“Oh! Thank you very much!” Kalim put down his items and picked you up, raising you above his head and spun around. “You wanted to help, didn’t you? That’s so sweet!”

“Kalim! That’s not an ordinary cat! Did you not see what just happen?!”

“I’m gonna name you Froggy!”

You only let out a small burp as Kalim gave you your new name, swaying you side to side.

Jamil was starting to feel that headache. Just when he was about to protest about Kalim keeping the ‘cat’ again, a familiar voice made its way into the Scarabia kitchen.

“Ah, te voilà, trickster!” Rook walks in the kitchen with ease as he strode over to Kalim who was still holding you. Kalim beams as he sees the Pomefiore Vice house warden. “Rook! What a surprise!”

Jamil took you from Kalim and presented you to Rook. “I’m guessing you're here for… this… please take them away from here.”

“Oh, why thank you! Word has spread that the Prefect has turned into an alien-like cat, and I thought it was a perfect opportunity to take them to Roi du Poison.”

“THAT’S THE PREFECT?!” Jamil yells as his headache comes in at full force.

“Oui! I must go now! So thank you!” Rook doesn’t explain anything else as he whisks you away from Scarabia.

Kalim and Jamil just stand there in the kitchen, processing the quick retreat the vice Housewarden of Pomefiore made.

Jamil rubs his temples “ … I’m going to my room and taking a nap.”

“Ah, I’ll get the washcloth.”

Pomefiore

“CUT!”

Vil’s sharp voice echoes throughout the courtyard, making everyone in the Film Club stop what they were doing.

The Film Club was currently doing a short sci-fi horror scene. Vil wanted to give himself and his club members a challenge since sci-fi and horror isn’t their usual go to genre for filming. Thankfully, Ortho and Epel are helpful for stirring them in the correct direction.

“We’ve filmed this scene over and over… yet I feel like something is lacking in this… alien…”

Everyone looks over at one of the actors who was dressed up like a snake-mix-octopus-mix-crocodile.

The actor only gave Vil a little wiggle with his costume.

“Your acting is good, but the costume… I feel like I’m looking at a child's drawing come to life. Where did we get this costume again?”

“This was actually hand made…”

“So it is a child’s drawing come to life… truly a nightmare,” Vil lets out a sigh as he walks over to Ortho to go over the footage they captured. Epel was sitting off to the side to watch how everything was going.

“Roi du Poison!” Members of the Film Club looked over to see Rook. He was practically skipping over to Vil while holding a super fluffy cat. “I have found you an alien!”

Vil blanks as Rook presented you to him. You couldn’t help but slowly blink at Vil and meow at him. He didn’t look all that impressed by seeing you.

“This is a cat, Rook.”

“Oui!”

“Why, in the sevens, would this be an alien? It just looks like an ordinary cat you would find off the street.”

You were more than just a street cat!

Rook was already sensing you wanted to show off that you weren’t just some simple cat, so he took an apple out from under his hat.

Vil was ready to question him before Rook tossed it in the air.

You zeroed in on the fruit and opened your mouth, allowing the tentacle to zip out and take a hold on the apple, and bring it back to you. Students in the Film Club let out a scream as they witnessed the slimy appendage come out of your mouth. Vil didn’t really respond, but he begins to think on how to put you in the movie now.

“House Warden Vil! You have to let them in the short film!” Epel shouts enthusiastically.

“Are they trained?”

“Even better! It's actually the Prefect!” Rook smiles as he announces it was really you.

You nod to confirm it was, and that you understood what was going on.

Vil smiles as he claps his hands together, pleased with the new addition to his short film.

And that’s how you got to be the alien in Vils New Short Film. At first the Club members were a bit weary, but upon learning that you were the Ramshackle Prefect, they fully accepted you instead of just some weird cat Rook found.

Ortho kept staring at you in pure awe when the actors went to the scene to reveal the part of the alien. You let out a hiss and revealed the bunches of tentacles and tendrils, just a cluster of horrors.

Every moment when filming was over, Ortho kept doing scans over your new body. The results he kept getting back were quite curious.

You didn’t turn into an ordinary cat. And Ortho was intrigued by this, even going as far as to send his brother the scans and data he was collecting.

One of the scenes that the club needed to capture was when one of the characters gets taken away from the alien. And you happily delivered it.

By gobbling up your fellow Night Raven Classmate.

Members from the club screamed in horror from behind the scenes as they watched the poor victim be taken away in one gulp. Vil had absolutely no words to say as he watched you target the next sad victim.

“Rook, you mentioned to me offhand that they’ll be ok, right?”

“Oui! The Prefect has taken both Roi de Roses and Monsieur Fuzzball and spit them out in safe conditions!”

Vil raised an eyebrow as he stared at his vice Housewarden, “Define, in your words… ‘Safe conditions’.”

Just when Rook was going to answer Vil, you came padding along.

Then you coughed up the club members.

Both actors just laid there on the ground, looking absolutely wrecked. Meanwhile you just started cleaning yourself.

The Pomefiore Housewarden looked at his own club members with absolute disgust seeing them covered in questionable slime and saliva. “Both of you, shower… Now!” That seemed to have snapped the two members out of their small daze as they scrambled to get up and head to their dorms to freshen up.

“Vil Schoenheit,” Both Vil and Rook turn to see Ortho hovering towards them. “If it’s ok with you, after doing today's scenes, can I take the Prefect? I’ve been doing scans and collecting data on them. I got a message from Idia and he wants to check on them.”

“Well, Idia is more then welcome to have them. We are done for today anyway.” Vil glances over to you.

You were innocently laying on your back waiting for your next victim to pet your tum tum.

“The shots we’ve collected are better than I expected them to be. Prefect,” you pick your head up and look at Vil. “You did fantastic today.”

You slowly blink at him and begin to purr.

Ortho giggles as he moves over to you and gently picks you up. “Come on, Prefect, I’m going to take you to big brother. He’s quite curious about what you turned into… and he wants to play with you.”

You let out a small mew as you let Ortho float away with you. Vil waved Ortho goodbye as he looked over the footage, pleased with the results they got.

Ignihyde

“Wehehehe~ Prefect you have such soft toe beans~” Idia happily let you sit in his lap as he played with your tiny cat paws, he was even taking photos of you from all angles. You didn’t mind, you just sat there peacefully with your eyes closed and your tongue sticking out just a bit.

Ortho giggles as he secretly records his brother playing with you. It was too cute! Plus, their mom has been asking how Idia has been doing, and Idia has been dodging her questioning and all that. Now, Ortho can have something to send to her.

“The Prefect seems to be enjoying themselves, brother! It’s said that cats stick their tongue out when they want to be playful or are relaxed.” Ortho casually mentions the fact as he does another scan over your body. He floats over to Idia and shows him the x-ray scan of your body.

“There’s… no bones.”

“And I don’t seen a stomach anywhere, though I am detecting lots of tunnels reaching to different places.”

“Pocket dimensions,” Idia picks you up, holding you from under your front arms. “Wehehe~ you're an ultra find, Prefect. Like an SSR+ find!” Idia gets off his bed and places you in his gamer chair.

You blink at him with your tongue still out as you relax fully into the soft leather. You watch as Idia taps a few times on his hologram keyboard, pulling up photos from your acting scenes and the x-ray scans Ortho took.

“You can still understand what I’m saying, right? You didn’t turn into just a kitty cat with a smooth brain, right?”

You huff at that and fully sit up, meowing at Idia and flicking your paw at him as if saying “get on with whatever you're gonna say”.

“Perfect. Now, I’m gonna show you what you are… because you look like a cute kitty cat, but that’s your character armor. What you really are-,” Idia motions to his monitor, showing the x-rays. “-is a fleshy alien thing that looks like a large parasite crammed into your cat-like body.”

You stare at the X-ray certain of yourself. It should be concerning really, because how the hell did you turn into that thing? Just a few hours ago you were human, and now you're some type of… alien? Parasite?

Either way you look sick as fuck.

“You don’t seem to be that freaked out,” Ortho floats over to you.

To show you weren’t that troubled by it, you opened your mouth and let out a collage of tentacles. One shoots out to grab Idia’s opened bag of chips, causing the older Shroud to yelp. You bring it back to your mouth and fully consume it, spitting the plastic bag out when you were done with it.

“… make yourself at home I guess.”

“Ah! So you do have a stomach! I can see you digesting the chips!” Ortho exclaimed excitedly.

Ortho sends the X-ray video of you digesting the chips to Idia, making it pop up on one of the monitors. You watched with curiosity. Some would find it disgusting but for you- you just thought it was interesting seeing how your new body functioned.

“Now, I hope you don’t mind if we can do some tests on you, Prefect.” Idia begins putting on his lab gear, carefully watching your reaction.

Ok. Sure. Running some tests wasn't that big of a deal. You weren’t in a rush at the moment, and you were curious about what you are.

That all changed when you saw something that looked like a needle.

Before you had time to back away, Ortho picked you up. And you started yowling, trying to get out of his hold.

“Ah! Prefect, what’s wrong?” Idia turns to see his younger brother struggling to hold you, clearly confused on what got you all fussy.

“Ortho! What happened?!”

“I don't know! They just started acting up!”

Using the wonderful power of cat physics, you're able to escape from the younger Shroud’s hold. Your first instinct was to head towards the door… unfortunately it was closed and you didn’t know how to open doors with your toe beans.

Idia slowly approaches you from behind as you try to find another escape route. Idia then takes the chance to dive down to get you, but you dodge him and begin to scurry around the room. You run from one side to the other, hopping on Idia’s bed and then to his shelf with his Action figures.

“Prefect! You're gonna get hurt!”

“MREOW!” You run across the shelf, knocking down the figurines and making Idia freak out.

“NO! Those are limited edition!” You didn’t listen to Idia’s screams as you practically knocked off every single one of his figurines. You look around trying to find a way out of his room, and that’s when you saw it-

The vent!

A tentacle shoots out from your mouth as you rip the grate off the ceiling. You cast the grate in the general direction of Idia, hearing the sound of what remains of the merchandise fall to the floor. And Idia loud pitch shriek.

You hop onto another shelf and use another tentacle to give you leverage as you swing yourself into the vent. You left Idia and Ortho alone in the room.

Take that! No needles today!

Idia just looks at the mess on his floor, not really sure where to start. Ortho just floats over and pats him on the shoulder, knowing that his older brother was mourning the loss of several of his collectibles.

Diasomnia

When you were able to escape from Idia’s clutches, you immediately went to Diasomnia.

This should have been your first pick! Horton would be happy to help you!

When you entered through the mirror you went straight to the dorm lounge room, ignoring students in the process as they stopped to stare at the fluffy cat walking the halls. Some even tried to pet you or greet you, but you were on a mission!

Being this alien cat was all fun but now, it’s best to go back to living life like a normal human.

“Strange, what’s a cat doing here?” You were ready to ignore the student like you did the others, but this one was quick enough to pick you up.

You were ready to swat at them but stopped when you recognized them. Sebek held you from under your arms as he scrutinized you. “How did you get into Diasomnia?” He asks, and all you do is meow at him.

“No matter! I heard earlier that Master Lilia and Waka-sama were looking for a fluffy cat. Perhaps they were referring to you.”

“Mrew.” Yes! Take me to Horton!

Sebek positions you into a better way where he cradles you into his arms. You start purring immediately, which causes Sebek to stutter. “C-cease your purring! I’m just taking you to Waka-sama and then I'm putting you down!”

No complaints there!

Sebek begins to walk you over to the dorm's lounge room. And you couldn’t help yourself so you started batting at his tie. A few times Sebek scolds you, but doesn't have the heart to stop you.

Oh he would lose his head if he learned it was you, the prefect.

“Ah! Sebek, my boy! You're back, and it seems like you brought a friend!” You perk up hearing Lilia’s voice.

You see Lilia and Malleus sitting on the couch in the lounge, Silver pouring them tea and himself a cup as well. Lilia’s eye practically sparkled when he saw you, vibrating on the spot with excitement.

Oh no.

He knows.

“So you found the Prefect, good work Sebek.” Malleus praises Sebek as he takes a sip of his tea.

Sebek though stopped in his tracks. He was happy to be praised by his young master! But learning that it was you that he was cradling this whole time…

He drops you without thinking.

Silver was ready to take his pen out and have you land safely on the ground, but you landed perfectly fine on all fours.

Thanks to your cat-like reflexes.

“P-prefect?! Why didn’t you say anything?!” Sebek yelled at you. You only give him a glare and start batting at his foot, basically telling him you weren’t happy for the fact he dropped you!

Lilia starts cackling watching the exchange between the two of you. When you were done with fighting Sebek’s shoe, you began your walk over to the couch where everyone seemed to be resting and hop on the coffee table.

You don’t stay there for long until Lilia scoops you in his arms, twirling you around like Kalim did. “Ah! You're just so cute now, Prefect!”

Is he saying you weren’t before?

In response to that, you place your paw on his nose, causing Lilia to laugh more. Malleus hums as he watches, Silver on the other hand was starting to doze off after he took one sip from his tea.

“How long has it been since you transformed, child of man?” Malleus asked as he placed his own teacup and saucer on the coffee table.

You try thinking about how long it’s been. It had to be no more than several hours, right? Then again, you did notice how it was getting darker in the Diasomnia dorm. Didn’t you drink that potion this morning???

“Based on your silence, it’s been a whole day.” Lilia nods to his own conclusion as you try wiggling out of his hold.

A whole day?! Nope! You gotta change NOW!

“Fear not my dear friend,” Malleus gets up from his place from the couch and makes it way over to you and Lilia. Lilia smiles as he holds you out to Malleus.

“Meow?”

“As cute as you are in this form, I would prefer to have my best friend back to normal.” And with that said Malleus places his hand on your head, letting a bright green light come from his hand.

In a blink of an eye, you turn back to normal…

With Lilia still holding you up by under your arms.

“I like to be put down now…”

“Aw, but I’m still having fun!” You let out a shriek as Lilia spins you once again. Malleus couldn’t help but let out a laugh as he watched the two of you.

Silver was fully asleep now, and Sebek only stared at his hands in horror.

“I was cradling them the whole time in their cat form…”

“Were they ever truly a cat though?” Sebek whipped his head to look at Silver who spoke in his sleep.

Nobody truly understood what you were. What you turned into it.

All they hope is that it never happens again…

“Oh gods, my stomach…” you were back in Ramshackle, laying in your bed and holding your stomach. You were feeling such immense pain after leaving Diasomnia. You did eat a lot of things today in that other form, and spitting stuff out as well.

Grim was currently pouring you a glass of Bubble Soda, and set down some crackers by your nightstand… not without swiping some first. “Mrah, Silver told me this would help you with your tummy ache. How you should still eat something along with the medication he gave.” Grim hands you the packet he got from second year.

God bless Silver. Lilia did cook horrible meals, so it made sense Silver would have these on hand.

You thanked Grim as you popped a pill into your mouth and slowly drank the soda Grim messily poured.

He tried.

“I’m really sorry about today… it’s my fault you turned into some weird cat thing…” Grim apologized awkwardly as he sat at the edge of your bed.

You let out a huff and grab the dire beast by the scruff of his neck, making him yelp in surprise as you wrap your arms around him.

“I forgive you, Grim. Don’t sweat it that much, ok? You didn’t know, and you made a mistake, it happens! So don’t beat yourself over it.”

Grim whines from your hug but lets you awayway, wrapping his paws around your neck to hug you back. You also promised yourself that night that you were going to double check everything before you consume it.

Can’t have you turning into an alien cat thing again…

Unless to torture Crowley, then you would be down to do that.

[mononijikayu]

thinking about volleyball player! sukuna getting upset because astrophysicist! reader doesn't wanna go with him in the shower after a long day of not seeing each other.

all volleyball player! sukuna wants is to hold reader's hand while he's cleaning his face for the night because he wants to feel you close after being touch starved.

because god forbid a loving devoted husband like him just wants to be with and feel his dear and beloved wife close to him after a long (heartbreaking) day of not being together. god forbid that this is his love language.

"are you actually mad at me?" sukuna pouts as he stands before you, still holding your hand. "do you actually not love me anymore?"

you sighed, looking at him. "my love, i did multiple labs today. i wanna be lazy right now."

"but i missed you." he whines to you, almost like a cat after not getting the belly rubs he wants. "come on, you can sit on the stool there while i look at you prettily at the mirror, still holding my hand."

"ryomen sukuna—"

"woah, just say you don't love me anymore at this point." he cuts you off, his face looking offended. "that's not my name. how dare you?"

"my love, really....." you sighed, rolling your eyes at his antics. you looked up and saw him glaring at you, like he was ready to cry. "its just the bathroom. you're just getting cleaned up."

"god forbid a man wants to multi–task." he huffs, shaking his head at you. his eyes looked like they were begging now. a sudden change from before. his hand squeezing your own. "come on, baby. just give in."

nearly a decade or so being together with such love with ryomen sukuna, you had always known that he was clingy but you never thought that he would be this clingy after getting married to you.

in some ways, marriage didn't really change your dynamics or your feelings for each other. that's just how it was when you've been so in love and continue to be in love after all this time.

but there was something about getting married that made the intensity of his desire to hold you, to touch you even more overwhelming. his life is incomplete when he's not feeling the warmth that completes the cold sweat that comes after he sits down and leaves the court for the day.

his body demands the warmth of you to complete him when the passion of the court cools down. because at the end of the day, he will walk out of that court. he will always go and in and out of it.

but you were the only one he could never leave. you were the only one that he will never resign himself away from. you were that only exception. because you bring him to life in ways not even the thunderous intensity of that ball hitting his palm ever would.

your warmth was more than anything that could ever be in this world. and he knows it. you knew it. so, yes, you could feel annoyed at the thought of him sulking and groaning and crying and moping with neediness for you and everything about you.

but it instantly goes away. because you love this man. and he loves you. that will never go away. annoyance is temporary but wanting to love him with everything despite it all is forever.

you looked at him for one more moment, seeing the tears threaten to fall down his eyes as though he was a little child about to have a crash out over not getting his favorite lollipop. you shake your head and started smiling and then laughing.

"alright, alright. just tonight, my love. after that, we'll go to bed."

you saw the threat of tears immediately disappear as he grins widely, almost as if his melt down had never happened. almost instantly, your husband became a golden retriever who has finally gotten a treat to enjoy.

he all but embraces you with everything in him, with you being nearly falling over as you get consumed by the warmth of his much bigger built. impressively, your hands are still locked in with his.

"my love—i'm about to fall!"

he laughs. "baby, you'll never fall. not when im here to catch you!"

and you like to think that's the case. he's never let you fall anywhere. he's never let you suffer or feel like he never cares for you or loves you. instead, he keeps you high above with him in the joyous clouds, enjoying the bountiful of the love he pours everything into.

when you both go to the bathroom, he's doing his facial with his free hand while his other one still remained wrapped against your own. you continued to listen to him talk about his day with enthusiasm, his bright scarlet eyes never leaving your own, which was full of love for him.

"did you know they're finally allowing me to have my uniform and shoes engrave the 'my love' on it?"

you blinked. "you requested it? and they approved it?"

"i mean, i've asked about it the moment i signed for them babe! been wanting to keep you with me at court if i can't wear my ring." he says, beaming at you. "but since im renegotiating my contract with the tokyo great bears and with the national team, it was the demand i asked for in my contract and they said yes!"

you could feel your entire chest feel warm and your entire body turn red as the blood in pumped high with pressure, feeling overwhelmed by the love your husband has for you. you use your free hand to hide your face in your palm, out of sheer flustered feeling taking over you.

how did you ever luck out in love in a world that has such a bleak look? how could one have such a big heart to love? how could you not love him and only him? how could every bit of everything that is negative just burst out in positives when he loves you like this?

"baby, why are you lowering your head like that—"

"ah, you're so...." you groaned at him, before looking up, still red. "you're so!...."

he turns around, moved closer to you and pressed a warm kiss on your lips. you were stunned as the smell of his vanilla creme echoes into your nose. you turn redder than before.

"love you too, baby." he whispered to you, his eyes blossoming in heartfuls.

how can he always just defeat you with his love?

".....hurry up, i'm getting sleepy."

"hey, don't sleep before i can!"

[thesvnandthemooon]

𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

a/n: part 2. idk

summary: natasha romanoff x married!reader; nat and you used to be in love. now, years later, you're married to a wealthy man and have a daughter with him. will running into natasha change everything?

warnings: none

word count: 6.4k

part 1, part 2, part 3, …

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

— COOKIES AND CONVERSATIONS —

"Natasha?"

Her eyes lock with yours as she slowly straightens up, making Nina let go of her sleeve in the process. You pull your daughter closer, staring at Natasha incredulously.

"Y/N", she finally says, a tad too coolly for your liking.

"What are you doing here?", you ask, still wary. Nina has grabbed your hand, a bit confused by how icy and distant the interaction between you two seems. You both said you're friends, after all. She's too young to grasp just how complex your relationship actually is.

'Friends' is far from the truth.

Natasha looks around the lobby, noticing the stares she's getting from strangers.

Yes, she specifically. You're a familiar face around here, probably visiting every week with your daughter in tow. She, however? She's unfamiliar. A face that stands out, someone who doesn't fit in. Her traitorous brain remarks that she should be used to that feeling by now. But she isn't.

"Can we maybe move this outside?", she asks quietly, her eyes flitting back to meet yours. You frown, unsure whether you should agree to her request.

But then again, Natasha is safe. Despite the breakup, despite the years of distance — you trust her. Part of you also realizes that your conversation is being overheard, which you don't like. Too many people know too much about you already, so there's no need to give them more stuff to talk about.

"Fine." You reluctantly follow her, making sure you're holding on to your daughter. No way is she running off again. That'd be the second time within less than a week.

You look at her as soon as you're outside, standing by your car. Natasha pushes her hands into the pockets of her coat, observing you out of the corner of her eye. She still can't shake that habit, it seems — always on the lookout, always studying you. It's as endearing as it is frustrating.

"So?", you eventually say, your thumb rubbing Nina's fingers. You're trying to calm yourself down. Or keep yourself calm. Either of those. "Answer me."

Natasha's gaze briefly sweeps over your surroundings. Traffic, an empty sidewalk, that gigantic building you just exited. Nobody in vicinity, which is a relief.

"I wanted to see you", she says. A half-lie. She did want to see you, in some way at least, but that's not what she's here for. She came her to find evidence, to gather intel about your precious husband.

Can she tell you that, though?

No. Not yet.

Your expression falters for a moment, the mask of indifference crumbling and vanishing. A variety of emotions flickers across your face, unreadable yet obvious. Natasha can see every single one, making her chest feel tight with guilt.

"You've got great timing", you say weakly, feeling the early autumn breeze brush over your cheeks. "It's been seven years."

"It's been a little more than five days", Natasha corrects you, still stoic.

"You know what I mean", you say sharply. "That thing at the art gallery? Doesn't count. Besides: if you wanted to see me, why'd you come to my husband's office?"

"I didn't know this was his office", she immediately replies, which — to you — is even more ridiculous than her claiming she wanted to see you. She's a spy, for god's sake. She doesn't do anything without a purpose, especially not something like this.

"So this is a coincidence?" You let out a hollow laugh. "Natasha-"

"Okay", she says, stepping closer. You quickly look at her, feeling the urge to take a step back. You can't get close to her again. "Maybe I did know he works here. But how else was I supposed to find you?"

"Not at all would've been a start."

"Charming", she says drily, her attempt at concealing the hurt in her voice failing. "Nice to see you too."

"Oh, come on." You sigh. "I'm sorry, but this...it's odd. I didn't think you'd be the one to seek me out first after, you know...", you trail off. She smiles bitterly, averting her eyes.

"Not all of us hold grudges", she says, softer this time. "I guess you're just harder to forget than I thought."

There's a teasing lilt to her voice, something that's meant to protect you both. It doesn't work, but you appreciate the effort. Plus, it manages to elicit a small smile from you. That's more than enough for Natasha.

Nina, ever the restless one, lets go of you to grab Natasha's hand again. The woman looks down at her, a smile appearing on her lips. The child is staring at her as if she's some kind of superhero, which is pretty much spot on.

"Looks like I've been replaced", you comment, the smile on your face turning more genuine now.

Nina is sociable. She loves people of pretty much all ages and is guaranteed to talk their ears off. Still, this kind of immediate fascination is something you haven't seen before. Like mother like daughter, it seems. When you first met Natasha, you felt this kind of enchantment as well. It's a spell that's hard to break.

"I am very likable", Natasha boasts playfully, grinning at your daughter. The little one turns to look at you, pleased that she made the pretty lady smile at her.

"Mommy, she's nice", she pipes up. "Can we get cookies? You promised."

"I did promise cookies", you sigh, shooting her an affectionate look. Then you glance at Natasha. "We were supposed to pick up a snack on our way home", you say sheepishly. "Care to join us?"

"Change of heart?", the redhead teases.

"Yeah, well..." You crack a smile. You're aware you went from pissed off to mildly flustered, all within the span of mere minutes. It'd throw her off guard if she wasn't still familiar with it. "It's always been difficult to stay mad at you."

Natasha hums, looking at Nina again. The girl smiles as if on cue, bouncing on the spot.

"Please?"

"Will I get a cookie, too?", Natasha asks, raising her eyebrows.

Nina nods. "You can have one", she says, her tone generous yet slightly self-important. You and Natasha exchange an amused look — it's a kind and genuine offer, but the way she's saying it makes it sound like the cookies are hers to give away. You're starting to see why your parents have called your daughter spoiled before.

"Looks like the boss has spoken. So, you're joining us?"

"I can't say no to Miss Nina here", Natasha confirms, squeezing Nina's hand.

"Nobody can", you huff, smiling, and take Nina's free hand. "There's a café down the block. We can walk there."

To say that this is weird would be more than just an understatement.

You haven't seen her in years. Haven't talked to her, haven't texted her, nothing. Refusal to reach out from both sides resulted in complete radio silence. And now?

Now you're walking down the street together, both of you holding onto Nina as she walks between you. You're not talking — thankfully, your daughter has decided to do that for you. She's chattering nonstop, her little voice ringing through the air.

It's warm inside the café, with the scent of pumpkin spice wafting right into your faces. Nina instantly lets go of you both, running up to the counter to inspect the pastries. She clasps her hands together in front of her, as if to prevent herself from touching the glass that's separating her from the sweet treats.

"She's a good kid", Natasha says quietly as you catch up to the girl. "She must get that from you."

You smile slightly, glancing at the woman next to you. Your gaze gets stuck, lingers, traces her features. You never could've forgotten what she looks like — not in a million years — but she's even more beautiful than you remembered.

Natasha notices you staring. She looks at you from the corner of her eye, subtly tilting her head. "What?", she asks softly.

"Nothing", you respond in a low murmur, quickly digging through your purse. "It's just weird seeing you here."

She manages a faint smile, silently agreeing with your words. Her eyes zero in on your wallet as you reach for a few dollar bills and her hand comes up to gently stop you.

"I got this", she says, reaching for her own money.

"No, hey-"

"Hush", she says firmly, then gives the barista a polite smile. She lets Nina order her own cookie (the rainbow one, of course), then she lists off everything else. Chocolate chip cookies — a classic —, an espresso and your favorite beverage.

You hide your smile, trying to get over the fact that she still remembers.

You find a quiet, secluded corner of the café, and sit down there. The sky is littered with clouds, covering the sun and allowing the soft lights of the café to be the star of the show.

Nina is tucked into the corner seat between you, her little hands breaking the cookie in two. Her excitement over something so mundane is serving as a buffer between you and Natasha, helping you through initial awkward silences.

"It's a nice place", Natasha comments, taking a sip of her espresso. "Much better than that place in D.C. with the squeaky chairs."

"And the bitter coffee", you add, looking at her. You reach out, tapping the frame of the glasses she's wearing. Those are definitely new. "Didn't know you need glasses now."

"I don't", Natasha says, quickly sliding the glasses off her face. Her eyes meet yours, deep green and softened. "They just help me be recognized less, believe it or not."

"I recognized you", you counter, stirring the hot drink in front of you before taking a tentative sip.

"Yes, you did", she says pointedly, glancing at Nina as she holds out a piece of her cookie. The girl has her head tilted sweetly.

"Trade?"

"Sure, honey", Natasha says, handing her a piece of her own cookie in exchange. Then she focuses on you again. "Now let's hope the rest of Manhattan isn't as sharp-eyed as you."

You roll your eyes, an amused sound escaping you. "Well, don't look at me. I don't think a pair of glasses could ever make you blend in." You pause, a thought crossing your mind. "What are you hiding from, anyways?"

Natasha looks at you, her brain — again — settling on a half-truth. "You know me. From the rest of Manhattan, pretty much."

"Right", you say, smiling faintly. "Always on the run."

"Old habits die hard", she says wryly, leaning back with her arms crossed. Irony — her very own way of suppressing the guilt that's starting to rear its head. She's lying to you pretty much constantly, keeping secrets and finding excuses.

Natasha has reasons for that. She can't just tell you what's going on, not until she knows for sure. Until then, you might be of use.

Telling herself that is easier than admitting why she's actually sitting here with you.

"Funny. I thought you'd have found some peace by now." You tilt your head pointedly. "Or at least a better disguise."

"Me and peace in the same sentence? Never thought I'd see the day", she says, finishing her espresso. "And the disguise? It's low-maintenance."

You let out a sound that's between a laugh and a scoff, wiping a few cookie crumbs off Nina's face absently. She rubs her eyes tiredly and you place a soothing hand on her back. "You were never low-maintenance."

"I thought I was charmingly uncomplicated", she smiles, briefly glancing at Nina to check on her. The girl looks sleepy, so it must be nap time for her soon.

"Yes, sure. If that's what you'd call having three passports in the glove compartment whenever you drove me anywhere."

The sole purpose of the smirk on Natasha's face is to hide a wince. It wasn't just the passports — it was everything that came with being with her. Switching cars while driving in the middle of the night, being prepared to run at any given moment. Making sure she could up and go whenever she wanted. Never entirely grounded, one foot always in the shadows.

Her existence was unpredictable, untethered. A stark contrast to the safe but stifling life you lead now, filled with monotony and routines.

Being with her allowed you to soar, even if it sometimes meant crashing down.

"Touché", Natasha says, watching you smooth down Nina's hair. Yet another new mannerism you've picked up — an endearing one at that. "Makes me wonder why you didn't run."

"Maybe I liked the thrill", you reply, looking at her again. Nina's head droops onto your arm for a moment. She's definitely ready for her nap. "Or maybe I liked the person behind the passports."

"That person hasn't changed as much as you may think."

"I think we've both changed."

Natasha watches you scoop the yawning child into your lap. Nina nestles against you, her eyes closing.

She never thought she'd see you like this: all motherly and nurturing, quietly soothing a child — your child. So maybe you have a point. Maybe you did change.

"Maybe", she admits, giving a small smile. "Some things don't, though."

"Like what?", you ask quietly, a hint of challenge in your voice.

Natasha leans forward, her gaze holding yours. The café, the people around you, the noises and smells — it all disappears. At least for a moment, it does.

"Like the way I recognized you, too."

. . .

— THE WEB UNFOLDS —

Her office is small but efficient, filled with the tools of her trade. Screens glowing with data, paperwork and open files scattered across her desk, a steaming mug of tea. She toys with a pen as she scans the financial documents she retrieved once more, one name standing out: Durant Enterprises.

Multiple transfers to and from said company, the amounts large and the descriptions vague. It's the frequency that makes her pause. This isn't just routine business — it's deliberate.

Natasha feels on edge as she puts her pen aside, now pulling up a secondary window on her screen. She cross-references the company with known entities in her database and starts to dig.

At first, Durant Enterprises doesn't raise alarms. Everything seems ordinary until more troubling details surface.

Natasha pauses, her hands stilling. She stares at the screen, feeling a chill run down her spine.

Ties to overseas operations, suspiciously under-the-radar accounts — and, most notably, an association with human trafficking syndicates.

She swallows, her fingers continuing to move over the keyboard in a rapid pace. A list of contacts connected to Ethan catches her eye, several names matching aliases from SHIELD's database of traffickers and corrupt officials. A few of the numbers that are listed appear to be burner phones, heightening her suspicions.

Natasha plugs in the USB stick and runs a deep scan of the files on Ethan's computer. A dense folder of corporate documents, mostly financial data — endless spreadsheets, balance sheets, transaction records. But, nestled among them, an invoice marked for 'freight services' from a shipping company she's never heard of.

It's not an innocent transaction — the total is unsettlingly large.

She pulls up the details, her eyes narrowing as she connects the dots to previous intel. And there it is again: an obscure company, linked to the same shadowy network she's seen before.

Dammit, Bailey, she thinks, taking a hasty sip of tea. What are you dragging them into?

As expected, her thoughts have drifted back to you. To you and Nina, completely oblivious to what Ethan — the man who's supposed to protect you and care for you — is doing.

And then there's Natasha — about to tear this entire network down, about to expose him to his family and countless others. She knows you'll have to find out eventually; it's only fair, after all. You deserve to know the full truth, even if it'll add yet another weight to your shoulders.

Part of her wonders whether you'll forgive her. She's been lying to you ever since that night at the art gallery, and she continues lying to you constantly. It's what she has to do to protect you and Nina.

Lingering affection wars with duty. Shield you from all of this or tell you the truth, let you live in this little bubble you've created for yourself or make it burst. Natasha shouldn't let her feelings get in the way, especially not when this entire mess concerns you and your daughter as well.

Every part of her being is trying to stop her from getting you involved in this. You don't deserve to be a part of this — but here you are.

And she's certain she'll do everything in her power to protect you, even if it means losing you once and for all.

Natasha sets the tea aside and grabs her phone. Her finger hovers above the call button for an excruciatingly long moment, then she decides against it. She leans back in her chair, starting to massage her temples. A dull ache has started to form behind her eyes.

It's a realization, a resolve, that hurts.

She'll have to use you somehow.

. . .

— MOMENTS IN FOCUS —

The sunlight filtering through the windows has a richness to it, making everything appear softer and more vibrant. Leaves dance in front of the floor to ceiling windows, shades of amber and russet that make the scenery outside look like the perfect October morning.

You look up from the ingredients in front of you — bananas, berries, a handful of spinach, all ready to be thrown into the blender — when you hear footsteps approach. Ethan pauses at your side, briefly glancing up from his phone to press a short kiss to your cheek. 

"Good morning", he says, looking like the epitome of effortlessness. Hair wet and slicked back, a crisp white robe tied loosely around his waist. Nina doesn't even notice him; she's too engrossed in the picture in front of her, her tongue sticking out as she focuses on coloring within the lines of the butterfly. "What's on the menu?"

"Smoothies, scrambled eggs, yogurt with granola", you list off, turning on the blender. It hums softly as the colors swirl together, creating a nice pinkish shade.

"Hear that, Nina?", he asks, leaning against the counter next to you. She barely looks at him before going back to coloring, now choosing a purple crayon. "Jesus. We've really got to make sure she pays more attention. This is rude behavior."

"She's tired", you defend her, pouring the smoothie into two glasses and one plastic cup. "Also, it's 7 in the morning. You can't expect her to function properly at this hour, Ethan."

"Why not?", he counters, reaching around you to grab one of the smoothies. He takes a few big gulps, already sitting down at the breakfast table and reaching for the newspaper. "She's almost four. It's time she learns some manners."

"She has manners", you retort, crouching down in front of your daughter. She stops coloring, her eyes meeting yours expectantly as she waits for you to say something. "Breakfast is ready, sweetheart. Are you hungry?"

"No", Nina says, but gets up anyway. You smile and swiftly lift her into the air, then sit her down on the chair with her booster seat. She reaches for her cup, holding it with both hands as she takes a sip. "That's yummy."

"Thank you, baby." A kiss is planted on the top of her head, then you join them at the table.

Ethan looks up from the newspaper, casually drumming his fingers on the surface of the table. "Do you have anything planned for today?"

"Not that I know, no", you say, glancing at him. "Why? Did something come up?"

"Oh, yeah. This magazine — Art & Culture Monthly, you probably know them — called this morning. They want to feature the gallery's grand opening in their upcoming issue. It's a pretty big deal, you know? Anyway, they'll interview me and also feature our family."

You can hear the excitement in his voice, causing you to smile faintly. Of course — another thing he can add to his long list of achievements. You can't believe you thought he'd ask if you wanted to do something normal. Go to a pumpkin patch, maybe visit a park. Simple, ordinary things.

"Whatever. They want to take a few pictures of us later today — you, me, the kid. It'll be great for the gallery's reputation, and it'll really solidify our place in the art scene."

Your smile fades a bit. A photo shoot. You've done a couple of those before, but they were always for private usage. You don't want Nina's face to be printed in some magazine everyone can buy, even if basically no one would recognize her anyway.

"I don't know", you say hesitantly, handing Nina a napkin. She has some of the smoothie smeared across her chin and cheeks. "It's a bit unexpected. Plus, Nina is too young for that. She won't be able to sit still for that long."

"Hey, it's okay", he says, brushing off your concerns. "You'll be fine, Nina. Won't you? Anyways-" He turns to you without waiting for an answer, "it's a huge opportunity for us — for me, really. They want to showcase the perfect family, and we're pretty much spot on."

The perfect family — husband, wife, cute little daughter. Well-off but still relatable, at least in a way. Always happy, always fitting society's expectations. You're tired of being pushed into this mold.

You sigh, glancing at your daughter. She looks at you, not understanding too much. "Photos?", she asks curiously.

"Yeah, photos. A photo shoot", you say, feeling uneasy. "Are you sure this is necessary?"

"Come on", your husband pushes impatiently. "It won't take too long. Besides — it's not like you have anything to do, do you? You'd spend the entire day sitting around. At least you'll make yourself useful."

You roll your eyes. Yes, that's definitely the case. It's not like you have a toddler to take care of, right? And even if you do — it can't be as hard as what Ethan does, obviously.

"When do we have to be there?"

"Two hours", he says happily, eating a bite of his scrambled eggs. "By the way, did you put chives in this? You know I don't like chives."

. . .

It's an upscale studio, bustling with assistants, lights and backdrops. Ethan is just as polished as the space you're in, immediately stepping up to the photographer — an older man, balding, with tiny glasses and a sweater vest — and staff to charm them. You keep your daughter close, feeling out of place.

As much as you hate this — you have to admit that Nina looks impossibly cute in her outfit. A white cabled fisherman sweater, matching yours, paired with denim jeans in a light wash. A pastel yellow headband is keeping her hair out of her face, making her cheeks look even rosier than usually.

"Mommy, this is itchy", she whispers, tugging at the front of her sweater. You grimace, quietly sympathizing with your daughter. The fabric doesn't exactly feel nice on your skin.

"I know, honey", you reply in a hushed voice, making sure the assistants and photographer don't hear you.

"And it's bright", she adds, squinting as she accidentally looks at one of the lights. You snort in amusement, gently making her turn away so she doesn't let the brightness fry her eyes.

"Yeah, I know. It'll be over soon, alright?"

"You ready?", one of the assistants says, waving you over. You nod and gently nudge Nina along.

The photographer positions you in various poses — Nina perched on Ethan's knee, Ethan with his arm around you, you holding Nina. It feels rehearsed, like they know exactly what they want to sell. Which, realistically speaking, is probably the case here.

Picture after picture, pose after pose. You're not the only one who starts to get restless. You spot Nina fidgeting more than once, subtly reaching into her pockets to make sure her crayons are still there — crayons she brought along secretly.

"Stop that, please", the photographer's voice cuts through the air. You don't like the irritated tone with which he's speaking one bit, but you decide to ignore him.

Nina stops, quickly pulling her hand out of her pocket.

"Yes, perfect. Ideal!", he gushes, continuing to snap pictures of you. You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. You silently wonder whether anyone will look at the pictures and realize that you'd rather be anywhere else. Ethan won't, that's for sure — he's beaming, oblivious to your discomfort.

"Mommy?", Nina whispers as you pick her up, already clutching her crayons in her smaller hand. You're finally done after what feels like an eternity of posing and smiling stiffly. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, sweetheart, we're going home", you nod, letting her nestle into you. "Let's just finish up here, okay?"

"Okay", she mumbles, her crayons pressed against the clean fabric of your sweater. They'll most likely leave stains, but you couldn't care less about that. You're just relieved you're done with this.

The drive home isn't silent, to your dismay. Ethan keeps going on and on and on about how great the photos are and how important this is and how it'll certainly elevate his public image. He's talking so much you're surprised Nina managed to doze off in her seat, her chin resting on her chest.

You don't bother responding — instead, you just stare out the window, your mind drifting. You wonder whether Natasha would've laughed at how absurd this whole thing is. You wonder what's she's doing, whether she's thinking about you.

In that moment, you get a text message.

Natasha: Hey, Y/N. This is a bit random, but does Ethan know a few guys in the whole arts world?

I'm looking into something for Tony. — 2.17 pm

You: Hey! I can ask him for a few of his

contacts and send you a list, maybe? — 2.17 pm

Natasha: That's perfect, thank you. — 2.18 pm

You look to your left when Nina stirs. She looks at your phone, rubbing one of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Who is that?"

"That's Natasha", you say. Ethan doesn't even notice. He's now telling your chauffeur about the feature, again rambling about the interview and the art gallery. Part of you is thankful for that.

"Natasha?" Nina suddenly doesn't seem so sleepy anymore as her eyes light up. "Say hi!"

You smile at your daughter's enthusiasm. Seems like she's really starting to adore the redhead.

You: By the way, Nina says hi. She's all smiley. — 2.19pm

Natasha: Right back at her :) — 2.20pm

Natasha: Are you guys in town next week? There's this park near

the old tower, I think she'd love it. (I promise I won't hog the cookies

this time.) — 2.21pm

You glance at Nina. She looks at you, wide-eyed and practically buzzing with excitement.

"Natasha's asking if we want to go to a park with her", you say, reaching out to adjust her seatbelt. "What do you say, NeeNee?"

Your daughter immediately nods. "Yes, I want to go! Can we go?"

You smile faintly. "Sure, we'll go."

You text Natasha back, confirming the day and time. Then you slip your phone into your pocket.

You let out a small breath, your lips curving into a smile before you even realize it. The weight of your lousy day lingers, but it seems lighter now.

The idea of seeing Natasha tugs at your chest in a way you weren't prepared to unpack. It's almost absurd, how a simple text exchange could bring you such warmth. There's a faint flutter beneath your ribs, caused by a mix of excitement and a wary kind of anticipation.

It's been years, yet you still don't know what it is about Natasha Romanoff that can do this to you with such little effort.

. . .

It's a nice day — the October sun is warm but not overbearing, the chatter of children is echoing through the open space. You get out of the car and scoop the squirming child out of her booster seat, her hand tightly clutching her favorite stuffed bear. You set her on the ground, making sure she doesn't just run off.

"Mommy, can we go there first?", she asks, pointing at the swings. You smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Let's find Natasha first, sweetheart. Then maybe she can push you."

Your suggestion earns a gleeful nod. With her hand clasped in yours, you start making your way down the winding path leading into the park. The late-afternoon light dapples the ground through the trees, creating a peaceful but slightly surreal atmosphere — though maybe that's just your nerves.

You spot Natasha near a quiet corner of the park, leaning casually against the wooden fence by the playground. Her pose is relaxed, but her sharp eyes are scanning the area around her.

Once she sees you, her face softens.

"Natasha!", Nina yells, voice bubbling with excitement, and frees herself from your gentle grip to dart forward.

Natasha crouches down just in time to catch the girl in a gentle hug, her expression warm. "Hey, Tiny!"

You ignore the nickname and the way it sends butterflies through your stomach. Instead you approach her, your steps hesitant but steady. She straightens up, her eyes meeting yours, and the park fades into the background.

You feel a small rush of warmth — one that leaves you confused.

"Hi", you say, your voice quieter than intended.

"Hi", she responds, her tone equally soft. But her gaze lingers, taking you in, and the curve of her lips hints at something deeper. "Should we sit? Or does Nina have a playground mission I should know about?"

Nina tugs at Natasha's hand, a grin on her face. "Swings first!"

The little girl manages to slightly break the tension. You let out a laugh, shooting your daughter a fond look. "Looks like you've got your orders."

"Please", Nina adds, remembering the magic word. She keeps pulling at Natasha's hand, who plays along easily. She follows Nina to the playground, all while exchanging a brief look with you — a silent 'Is this okay?'

"Go ahead", you say, nodding, and follow them to the swings.

Leaves crunch beneath the soles of your shoes, the air having a slight bite to it already. A boy, slightly older than Nina, runs past with his father chasing after him. Laughter and voices carry through the air, allowing you to relax a little.

Natasha makes sure Nina's holding on tight before she takes the lead in pushing her. You stand next to them, arms loosely crossed over your chest to preserve some warmth.

"Higher!", Nina promptly demands, trying to glance at Natasha over the thick fabric of her scarf.

"Higher? What are you, a little daredevil in training? You're going to give your mom a heart attack!"

"She's already started", you say, mildly exasperated. "You should've seen her last week, when she tried to climb the bookshelf."

"Huh." Natasha smiles, her eyes briefly meeting yours. There it is again, that annoying tug of warmth. "Sounds like someone I used to know."

You huff, but you can't deny the truth behind her words. You shrug, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat.

"You never complained."

"I didn't", she agrees, gently stopping the swing when Nina starts to talk about the merry-go-round. "Doesn't mean you didn't make my nerves fray, though."

"Please." You start walking to the merry-go-round, watching Nina speed ahead. "If anyone's nerves were frayed, it's mine. I watched you leave for missions on a weekly basis. I can't even count how many times I stitched you up afterwards."

"You make it sound like I was some kind of wrecking ball", she smirks.

"You didn't need to be." You let out an amused chuckle, your eyes glued to Nina as she sits down on the circular bench of the merry-go-round. "You were a force of nature, and I spent most of my time just trying to hold it together while you ran off into the chaos."

"You always did", she agrees, her voice quieter now. You stop when you reach the merry-go-round, watching Nina as she starts to spin around. "You were good at it, though. At stitching me up, I mean. Better than I deserved most days."

"Very true", you say, trying to keep it light. "I think I deserved a medal for keeping up with you."

"You mean for putting up with me?", Natasha corrects you, her hand briefly touching the handle of the merry-go-round to make sure it doesn't spin too fast.

A faint smile forms on your face. She's not entirely wrong — some of the time, it really was 'putting up with her'. Rolling with it, with her lifestyle, with the way every day seemed to be pure chaos.

You know it's not her fault. It's who she is, it's the life she ended up choosing for herself after never getting to have a choice. You were patient, too — you understood why she had to do all those things. Why she could never just rest.

"I'm just saying: most people would've thrown their hands up after the third emergency stitch job", you say mock seriously, earning a quiet laugh.

"Good thing you're not most people", she says, her smirk letting some tenderness shimmer through.

"Yeah", you agree, watching her. She's looking at Nina again, making sure she isn't spinning too fast or getting dizzy. Again and again you realize the same thing: only days later, Natasha fits in perfectly. Maybe that's what scares you the most. "Real good."

. . .

With Nina playing in a sandbox, you and Natasha get to be alone for a moment. You never take your eyes off your daughter to make sure she stays right where she is, but most of your attention is on the woman sitting next to you.

"I never knew how fast things could change", you speak softly, your words lingering in the chilly air. "I mean — one moment, I was making all these big plans. And now?"

"...now, you're a mom", Natasha says, smiling faintly as Nina smushes down her sandcastle.

"Yeah, exactly."

"You found a calmer life", she says, half to herself. It's bittersweet — she's glad you made it to a place where you don't have to worry about her or the dangers that come with the territory anymore. Now, your days are filled with cartoons and picture books and colorful bandaids. No more midnight missions, no more bloodies bandages. "A safer one."

"Calm and safe, sure", you mumble absently. "But I'm not so sure about...better."

Natasha turns to look at you, frowning slightly. What you said is odd enough, but the way you said it really threw her off. She scoots closer, her voice lowered.

"What are you talking about?"

You open your mouth to answer, but before you can say anything, Nina calls out to you. She's running, one hand clutching her teddybear. "I'm thirsty, mommy."

"Come here, honey." You grab a juice box from your backpack and hand it to her. She struggles with the straw for a moment, then she manages to poke it through the hole. The straw is now covered in grains of sand, making you grimace — but, of course, your daughter doesn't care about that.

She empties the juice box in record time, then she tosses it into the trash can. Off she goes again, her eyes locking onto the pony spring-rider. Natasha watches her with increasing fondness, silently wondering whether, in some other, faraway universe, this is what her life looks like.

"Always on the go", you say quietly, watching her. "So full of energy, I swear."

"I guess that's why I like her so much", Natasha says, glancing at you. You smile.

"She reminds you of yourself, huh?"

Natasha laughs under her breath, shrugging. "Maybe. Though I hope not too much."

You look down at your lap, at your hands that are resting there, and subtly toy with the ring on your finger. Your gaze shifts back to Natasha, a small, wistful smile on your face.

"I disagree. I wouldn't mind if she was a bit...wilder." You bite your lip, then add: "Like you. I mean, you were the one always pushing me out of my comfort zone. It was part of the deal: I tried to rein you in — unsuccessfully —, and you kept pushing."

Natasha smiles, her hand briefly reaching out to squeeze yours. You exhale softly at the simple touch — you haven't felt her skin against yours in years, but it's still the same.

"Did I ever do it right?", she ponders. "Push you the way you needed?"

"Maybe not always", you admit. "But you made me feel alive. Even when it was complicated."

. . .

"For you!", Nina says, handing a flower — a chrysanthemum — to Natasha. The redhead smiles, taking the small plant and twirling it between her fingers.

"A flower? For me? I'm honored!" Natasha turns to look at you, a teasing look on her face. "See? She already likes me better than most people."

You chuckle, lifting Nina into your arms. "I wouldn't be so sure", you say, smiling back just as teasingly. "She gave the mailman a flower last week, too."

"Oh really? And here I thought I was special."

You hum, adjusting your hold on your daughter. "You are special", you say, this time completely sincerely. You can't remember the last time Ethan spent the whole day with you like this — simply existing, doing things that aren't work-related, making sure Nina has fun. This was Natasha's idea, too — not yours. For the first time in a while, you don't feel isolated.

You clear your throat, giving a quick nod. "Well, uhm...thank you. For this. She really had fun."

Natasha hesitates, her gaze flickering from the flower to your face. "I didn't just come for her", she eventually speaks, the words hanging in the air as you exchange a look. You swallow, managing a faint smile.

"Let's not get too sentimental", you say, trying to sound lighthearted. You nudge Nina to distract yourself. "Say bye, honey."

Nina waves at Natasha. A few hours of playing outside in the fresh air have turned her cheeks rosy. "Bye, Natasha!"

"Bye, Tiny."

Another quick glance at each other, then you part ways. Natasha goes in one direction, you go in the other. Years linger between you, years that were spent together and that keep you close. There's a pull that's close to magnetic, and you're not sure how you managed to resist it for such a long time.

Both of you wonder whether you were ever able to truly leave your past behind — or if, somehow, you're still tangled in it, just waiting for the right moment to unravel.

✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷ ✷

🌙 tagged (as per request): @fxckmiup

[kedreeva]

#I'm sorry your grandchildren turned back up like this jfjfjg (via @northeasternwind)

So, since a couple of people have asked...

These two are NOT birds I produced (I've been told several times across multiple people that when my birds have chances to escape they simply do not), but they ARE actually two of the birds I just transported from Kansas. I drove 15 hours there, and 15 hours back to pick up these birds (the trip was paid for by the people getting the birds), along with several others, and deliver them along the way back.

You might remember my trunk full of $9,000 worth of peafowl, and these two were among them.

When I saw this ask this morning, I thought man those look so much like the two I just transported, but obviously there is no way this person lives where those birds went to. Out of all the places in the entire world, that would be an awfully big coincidence, on top of the fact that I know the person those birds went to pens his birds. He doesn't free range, because he got his original birds from me and I don't sell to people who free range. For this reason. AND there's no way he'd free range THOSE birds, because he knows Spaldings are even more prone to fucking off if released and he just dropped a LOT of money on them. So clearly there's no way.

And then I get a message from the asker, saying that they are in proximity to where the birds went, and my stomach dropped. But still. Multiple people can own birds...... but someone else getting a BS male yearling and a mid range spalding hen that isn't BS, being in the same area... the chances were growing that they could be the same birds.

So I messaged the person that I delivered birds to, asking if he still had the two I just delivered, and he responded that he'd had some people over to his place a couple of days ago, and their young daughter opened the pen door and let them out when no one was looking. He hasn't seen them since. So yep, they are definitely the same birds, and I still cannot believe the fortune of someone happening to send a photo to me, one of the two people in the world, who could have pointed to those birds and said "Hey, I actually know where those two belong."

I got to tell him that thanks to the beauty of the internet and people sharing pictures of peafowl with me, I know where they are in theory, or where they were as of this morning, and will be connecting the two of them to hopefully recover the birds. I will be advising him to get simple locks for his pen doors, to prevent this kind of thing in the future.

So, fingers crossed we get a happy ending for these two. It very often isn't for escaped/free range peas, so it would be nice to have such a strange win.

I had some unexpected visitors today when I went out to do goat chores!

That's a nice pair of Spaldings. A BS male and a hen. Some idiot just lost $600+ because they thought peafowl were like chickens and could instantly be free ranged.

If they stick around and you'd like to capture them (and they should be captured even if you don't intend to keep them, they do not know where they are and will not be adept at finding food and water and are susceptible to predators), they can be offered game bird feed or dry cat food or whole corn or peanuts, and led into an enclosed space. Shut the door behind them and capture them in the dark (it will be easier to grab them when they can't see).

If you'd like to keep them I can give housing advice, otherwise either contact your local humane society/ASPCA or drop me a PM and let me know where you are and I'll see what I can do about helping you find a place for them with new owners.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

(Trigger warning: allusions to non-con, mentions of overstepping/ignoring boundaries. Nothing explicit or detailed but I still want to put warnings just in case it's triggering to anyone. Putting it under a read more to be extra careful. I just needed to vent a bit because this has deeply upset and infuriated me)

Made the mistake of opening my Twitter tab (I try to stay away as much as possible b/c I am wary of Valleydream Bloom spoilers) and the first thing I saw was a screenrecording of a café interaction where Sylus explicitly says that he isn't into choking. Which doesn't surprise me personally since, you know... this exists

He very clearly does not play about this shit. And rightfully so. His boundary just got crossed, and he doesn't tolerate that even from the person that he has longed for in his dreams. Which, again, rightfully so. No one has the right to overstep a person's boundaries no matter who they are to that person.

I figured that Sylus not being into being choked was common knowledge. Like yes, Sylus has kinks. And he is into BDSM. But that doesn't mean that he likes everything under that umbrella nor that he doesn't have explicit boundaries or limits, which some (mostly Booktok) seems to believe is the case with anyone being into BDSM or being kinky in general when that couldn't be further from the truth.

Anyway, boy was I wrong in my assumption. The reaction this "revelation" has garnered from a number of people is both surprising and disturbing tbh. It's one thing to be surprised but to say shit like "He's lying" or "Maybe he doesn't like it right now but I can change his mind" is just wild and frankly disgusting. On a number of levels.

First off... calling Sylus a liar. You know, the same man who literally never lies. Not even once throughout his relationship with MC. One of his core traits with her is that he is always genuine with her. He may evade certain topics like telling her explicitly about their past but he doesn't lie about it. He doesn't pretend they don't have a past together or that MCs visions aren't real. He has never lied to her and I highly doubt he ever will. It's not in his character. Never has been. And no one who cares about or understands his character would claim differently.

But most of all it just baffles and upsets me how quick and eager some are to dismiss Sylus' boundaries – Sylus, who is fundamentally a character all about autonomy and agency and consent. Who is celebrated for respecting MC's. And yet when it comes to his own? A lot of people like to act like he doesn't have them or that they can be tweaked. And I'm not just talking about the comments on this specific post, but in general I've seen kind of a lot of people adamant about controlling Sylus, or that claim that he would do literally everything MC would want. Even if it makes him uncomfortable. Which would be OOC for both characters.

Another reason why this is so upsetting to me and that I've talked about before is that Sylus is a character who's agency was forcefully – brutally – stripped away from him at a young age and for literal millennia. He has spent a good portion of his existence sealed away or locked up. That's a major reason why having autonomy agency and control is so important to him, and why he sets such clear boundaries for himself. Which MC would never cross because she loves and respects him as much as he does her.

And actually, I think this part about being treated brutally in the past is a major reason why Sylus is very cautious about being touched in certain vulnerable areas (neck, chest, head). He is just so used to being attacked and treated in a violent manner. Which breaks my heart.

Anyway, vent over. I just needed to do make this post for my own sake.

[suksatoru]

despite being the adopted son of the greatest hero to live and attending the prestigious school known to the world as U.A. academy — tenko shimura was a bit of a shy hero.

it was only when you were partnered with the quiet boy who always sat towards the back of the class do you learn tenko has a bit of a... potty mouth.

"that fucking asshole shit-talking todoroki can dish it out, but i have never seen him take it."

your snort, taking another strand of tenko's raven hair between your fingers and rubbing his scalp with soothing circles

"uh huh... "

"i can't believe i got partnered with such a loser. you know, threatening to get the teachers fired on all might's behalf doesn't even work anymore! they know i hate his guts—and they still make me work with him." he goes on, folding his hands over his stomach with an angry huff as his eyes remain closed. his head shifts in your lap the slightest bit as he moves to get more comfortable.

your school's courtyard was somewhere you dragged tenko to often. he used to complain about the sun cooking him alive, but when you and him stumbled upon a wisteria tree towards the outer edges of the courtyard, he suddenly didn't mind coming outside as much anymore.

what used to be a homework spot transformed into a hang out spot. now, you and him catch up in between classes by sitting in the shade. his current dilemma was being partnered with touya todoroki for an english assignment — endeavor's son and all might's adopted one not getting along wasn't exactly a surprise.

"and you know what — i hate pretty boys like him. they think they're so much better than everyone else. egotistical pigs like todoroki can shove their sugar coated bullshit right up my—"

"i actually really like pretty boys."

tenko stills in your lap. half a second later, his eyes fly open, and he rises like jesus himself within a split second as he turns to you with an expression so mortified, you almost felt bad.

"wha—is this your way of telling me you have a crush on todoroki?!"

he squaks out the words like he can barely believe them himself. he glares at you, and you can only laugh

"no, i said i like pretty boys! you know, beauty is subjective. just because everyone else finds todoroki pretty doesn't mean i do." you grin, watching tenko get fired up even more by your words

"no way — you said you like pretty boys!" he whines, throwing an arm over his eyes like the confession physically pained him. you roll your eyes with a light laugh at your best friend's antics before gently nudging him

"ask me who i consider a pretty boy!" you beam, and tenko squints at you with a frown

"no."

"i promise you'll like my answer."

"there's no way i'm going to li—"

"you'll never know if you don't ask!"

tenko groans, dropping his head in his hands as he rubs his forehead. you watch his soft, dark locks flop side to side as his shoulders remained hunched in defeat. finally, he peers up at you—watching you pick at the grass beneath your fingertips with a sigh

"who would you consider to be a pretty boy?"

you hum, making a show of tapping your chin and pretending to be in deep thought. tenko tries not to let his eye twitch, but just the thought of you being attracted to another guy made his blood boil. whoever you ended up saying, if it wasn't him — tenko would personally make their life a living hell.

"if i really had to chose just one boy... " you trail off, furrowing your brows in faux concentration as tenko sits still — brimming with anticipation and expectancy before you send him a smile

"i suppose the prettiest boy in my world would be you."

tenko's eyes soften, so little that you barely notice it — before they harden.

"is this your way of trying to cover your slip up about liking todoroki from earlier? i don't care if you like him. half the school does, it's no surprise you do, too." tenko snaps, something sad and dejected just barely hidden in the dark shade of his eyes as you frown

"you don't believe me?"

"what the hell about me is pretty? nothing is," he mutters with an eye roll as he moves to sit beside you, resting his back against the tree you laid on as your frown deepens. you try to ignore the lack of warmth in your lap now that tenko's moved his head and focus on the situation at hand instead

"well... you don't give your physical appearance enough credit. for example—your eyes remind me of rainy days... the comfort and warmth they bring is unmatched!" you grin, tapping the side of his head and meeting his gaze with a smile — gray eyes peer back, and tenko blinks slowly at your sudden compliment.

"you have the softest hair ever, too — and you don't even have a good shampoo! i checked in your shower by the way, you're one of those 'three in one' wash people." you giggle as he huffs. but... he doesn't say anything. he stays quiet, but there's an unmistakable flush tinging his ears pink. you can see his resolve cracking with every word that leaves your lips

"it's not just your features, tenko. you're really smart, and i like how your face softens when you're really focused. like, on those video games you play—or when you're helping me study! you never get mad when i genuinely don't understand something, and you always help me whenever i'm in a tizzy! no matter what!"

tenko grunts in confirmation, eyes distant as he swallows the lump forming in his throat. his eyes widen a fraction when you scoot closer, and there's a mischievous gleam in your eyes that has him gulping

"but my favorite thing...the cutest and most endearing thing about you... would have to be this."

you tap the soft mole residing on tenko's chin, and his lips part as if he were about to say something — but not a sound comes out.

tenko's face feels like it's on fire. his fingers fist his uniform pants anxiously, and you're smiling so wide he thinks his heart might burst right out of his chest and fall right into your hands.

he suddenly drops his head into your lap, covering his face and muttering swears under his breath in a feeble attempt to cover his pink cheeks. your face falls to the side as you laugh, and the warmth of tenko's head in your lap returns — your fingers find his hair once again, and he seems a lot happier to be in your embrace than before.

[hoovesandfloorpaws]

[since everything under a Read More cut gets deleted in case a blog deletes/gets deleted and the WayBackMachine isn’t good with pictures, for Archive Purposes Only, I will add the most important bits of the/rest of the full post and have also checked/updated/added the source links to the best of my abilities]

[all written timestamps are in London, UK time] - 1 Sep 2011:  Harry & Louis “wee” tweets about how the other pees  [5:29 PM - Harry: "If @Louis_Tomlinson feels tired...he sits down to have a wee...I've seen it." 5:33 PM - Louis: "@Harry_Styles When harry is tired he doesn't even lift the seat when he wees.... #weeweemess" 5:41 PM - Louis: "#harrywetsthebed"

(tweet 1 / tweet 2 / tweet 3)] My favorite is Harry commiserating with Lou [Teasdale] about how Tom [her husband] & Louis pee the same way [5:41 PM - Harry: "@louteasdale @tomatkin I know...they do it together and talk about current affairs (news,football etc.)"

(tweet)]

1 Sep 2011: Official Annual 2012 [is] released

"Written in collaboration with the boys, this is the only annual to include exclusive interviews, up to the minute news and info, and never before seen photos, including what the boys themselves look for in a girl, their idea of an awesome date, all the embarrassing tour moments and crazy tour stories"

3 Sep 2011: Somewhere together; video of girls meeting them; “Harry asked me how big are my boobs” (video)

5 Sep 2011: Louis retweets “harry’s eyes, harry’s smile, harry’s everything, he’s just beautiful.” [link to screenshot no longer active and I can't find the retweet on Louis' twitter account, but i saw that retweet with my own eyes and can personally vouch for that this happened. if anyone still has the link or screenshot, please send it my way, so i can tack it on to the end of this post, thank you.]

6 Sep 2011: [The] epic Sugarscape interview with “I like girls” and “penis jokes” and “chop suey’s eyelashes” and “Lou, can I give you a blowjob?” [is] filmed. [Trailer:

I will add the videos to the mentioned bits, but please do yourself a favour and watch all parts! Here is a YouTube playlist of all the videos from those interviews. All of these videos from that day are FULL of baby boyfriends moments; Louis can barely keep his hands off his Harry; he honks Harry's boobie, plays with his curls, massages his shoulders, etc. and Harry is just as all over Louis, not just with the eyelashes compliment or literally asking to give him a blowjob off-screen, but also stating "I don't think a carrot would cover it 😌" when talking about Louis' dick. Harry: "I like girls!" Everyone: 🤨🤣😲🫥 Zayn: "You've changed!" (for app users: starts at 0:39)

Harry: "Ah yeah, I saw that, he had his hat on his dingaling." Louis: "Yeah." (looking down at Harry) "What's a dingaling?" Harry: "Um..." Louis: "Oh, you mean his penis!" Harry: "Yeah." Sugarscape: "Maybe Lou could have a carrot in front of his? Is that something you'd consider?" Louis: "🤔🥕" Harry: ".....I don't think it'd cover it." (Harry and Lou crack up and low five about it in agreement :D) Harry: "Yeeeeeeeh, penis jokes!" (for app users: starts at 1:05)

Sugarscape: "And what about Louis?" (she pronounces is like Hewey) Harry: "My favorite thing about Chop Suey is his eyelashes." (at 0:24 Harry comes up with that nickname, because Louis rhymes with Chop Suey) Louis: "I've actually been told I have long eyelashes!" (for app users: starts at 1:28)

Harry to Louis, off-screen: "Lou, can I give you a blowjob?" Louis: "I'd love for you to, if you'd just wait." Niall: (looks over at them at cracks the fuck up) (for app-users: starts at 3:11)]

[same day,] 6 Sep 2011: Heat Magazine livestream with H/L tension and “Why do we have to hide the elephant?” (video) [my little summary post with some mentioned highlights is here incl. "the moment that made me choke up quite painfully was at 1:55 when they were asked “What’s your pet peeve?” and Harry says he gets a full-body shiver when people bite bottle caps off with their teeth, Louis hates when people chew loudly with their mouths open, okay, alright.. but then Liam says: “Zayn hates it when people lean too far over a banister when they’re high up somewhere.” and Zayn nods and says “Yeah, I really hate that.” 💔"]

[same day,] 6 Sep 2011: 4music interview with “I met you in the toilet” and Louis saying to Harry: “I haven’t seen you in a dress before, hmmm ❤️” filmed. [video - the date in the video title is wrong btw]

[2011 - 2021 - 2019 - 2020 💖💙 -- pick someone who's supportive 💙💚]

[same day,] 6 Sep 2011: GQ Awards Dinner in London [video]

7 Sep 2011: Harry & Louis "cereal/milk/tea/he’s sweet enough" tweet fest

[12:49 PM - Louis: "Need some cereal @Harry_Styles I hope there is milk!!" 12:57 PM - Harry: "@Louis_Tomlinson I left you some :) make me a tea please! haha .x" 1:04 PM - Harry: "@SarahMushet he's sweet enough..." (the tweet H replied to isn't available anymore, but i remember the fan said something about whether Harry will also need/want sugar for his tea, so H said he (Louis) "is sweet enough" 🥹)

(tweet 1 / tweet 2 / tweet 3)]

8 Sep 2011: Red or Black announcement video with Louis nuzzling Harry’s thigh (at the end of the video)

9 Sep 2011: Louis’ “sleeping to dream about you” tweet [8:31 AM - Louis: "Sleeping to dream about you..."

(tweet)]

continues in Part 2

TIMELINE: September 2011

Fresh off of the Hannah break-up and Leeds, we have September 2011, full of promo and domestic!Larry.

Keep reading

[hans-wh0re]

FRICTION

Synopsis: There's something seriously wrong with your boyfriend, and it's called chronic humping syndrome. or the one where Changbin literally cannot stop grinding against you (or anything that smells like you) for even five minutes, and tonight he's more desperate than you've ever seen him. W.C: 2.5 K Pairing: changbin x afab reader smut tags: humping kink, desperate grinding, dry humping, clothing ruining, thigh riding, clothed sex, possessive behavior (kinda?), multiple orgasms, begging, whimpering, precum soaking, rutting, unprotected sex, cream!pie, overstimulation .... A.N: this has been sitting on my drafts for a while. I'm not 100% satisfied with it, but i haven't written anything these past few days due to health issues, so i figured i'd post something. Anyways enjoy.

--------

You've barely put your key in the lock when you hear that familiar, telltale whimpering from behind your apartment door.

"Fuck" you mutter, already knowing exactly what you're about to walk in on.

The door swings open to reveal your living room and, more importantly, your boyfriend Changbin on your couch. He's face-down, fully clothed, desperately rutting against what appears to be—yep, that's definitely your favorite hoodie wadded up beneath him. His hips pump frantically, the fabric of his sweatpants stretched tight across his ass as he grinds his cock against your clothing with single-minded determination.

He's so lost in it that he doesn't even notice you standing there, watching as he humps your hoodie like a teenager who just discovered what his dick is for. The little desperate whines escaping his throat make your pussy clench involuntarily, and pathetic as it is, the sight of him grinding against anything that smells like you never fails to turn you on.

"Couldn't even make it to the bedroom this time?" you ask, dropping your bag by the door.

Changbin's head whips around, his eyes wide and glazed with arousal. His hips don't stop moving though, not even for a second.

"You're home," he gasps, his voice strained. "Early."

"And you're humping my clothes. Again." You kick off your shoes, oddly calm about finding your grown-ass boyfriend dry-humping your hoodie on the couch. This isn't exactly a rare occurrence.

"Missed you," he groans, still grinding. "Needed—needed something."

You approach the couch, taking in the state of him. His hair is disheveled, forehead glistening with sweat, and there's a large wet spot at the front of his gray sweatpants where his cock has been leaking. He looks wrecked, and judging by the stuttering rhythm of his hips, he's close to coming but trying to hold back now that you're here.

"How long have you been at this?" you ask, genuinely curious. Sometimes Changbin can go for hours, just rutting against various surfaces like a dog in heat.

"Since—fuck—since you left for work," he admits, his hips still moving in desperate little circles. "Been so hard all day. Couldn't stop thinking about you."

Nine hours. He's been humping your stuff for nine fucking hours.

"Have you even eaten?" you ask, though you already know the answer. When Changbin gets like this, everything else ceases to exist.

He shakes his head, whimpering as a particularly good thrust sends a visible shudder through his body. "Just needed this. Need you more though. Please—"

The desperation in his voice makes your core throb with arousal despite your better judgment. It should be ridiculous, pathetic even, to find a grown man humping your clothes this hot. But there's something about the raw need Changbin displays and the way he completely loses himself in seeking friction, that never fails to ignite your own desire.

"Let me change first," you say, stepping back. "And you should probably drink some water if you've been at this all day."

"No," he whines, reaching for you. "Please, just—just let me—"

You know what he wants. What he always wants. With a sigh that's more for show than actual exasperation, you step closer again, presenting your leg.

Changbin abandons your hoodie immediately, scrambling to position himself against your thigh with an urgency that would be comical if it weren't so genuinely desperate. He hooks one leg over yours, pressing his sweatpants-covered cock against you, and groans in relief.

"Fuck," he breathes, his eyes falling closed as he starts to move. "Needed this so bad."

You stand there in your work clothes, your boyfriend attached to your leg like some kind of horny koala, rutting against you with an intensity that should be embarrassing but is somehow just… Changbin.

"Better than my hoodie?" you ask, unable to keep the amusement from your voice despite the heat building between your own legs.

"So much better," he whimpers, his movements growing more frantic. "Nothing feels as good as you. Nothing."

His hips work against your thigh in a desperate rhythm, his cock hard and leaking through his sweatpants. You can feel the dampness seeping through to your skin, evidence of just how worked up he truly is.

"Please don't stop me," he begs, voice breaking. "I'm so close. Been edging all day. Need to come so bad."

You reach down to stroke his hair, oddly tender despite the absolute filth of the situation. "Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for me."

That's all the permission Changbin needs. His hips stutter, his rhythm faltering as he grinds himself hard against your thigh. A broken moan tears from his throat as he comes, his body shuddering against yours. You can feel the warmth spreading through his sweatpants as he pumps his release against your leg, his face contorted in pleasure.

For a moment, you think that might be enough to take the edge off. That maybe, just maybe, you can now change clothes and have a normal evening with your boyfriend.

You should know better by now.

Changbin's hips slow but don't stop, his cock still hard against your thigh despite the impressive wet patch spreading across the front of his pants. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and hungry.

"Need more," he whispers, almost apologetic. "Still so hard."

You sigh, resigned to your fate. "Let me at least change first."

Changbin whines but reluctantly detaches himself from your leg, already palming his cock through his soaked sweatpants as you walk toward the bedroom. You know without looking that his eyes are fixed on your ass, tracking your movements like prey.

The second you're in the bedroom, you hear him behind you, his breathing already labored again. You don't even make it to the closet before his front is pressed against your back, his cock grinding insistently against your ass.

"Binnie," you warn, though there's no real heat in it. "At least let me get out of my work clothes."

"Take them off," he agrees, but makes no move to step back, continuing to rut against you as you attempt to unbutton your blouse. "God, your ass feels so good."

His hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he grinds himself against you in tight circles. You can feel how wet his sweatpants are from his earlier orgasm, the dampness transferring to the back of your skirt.

"You're ruining my clothes," you point out, finally managing to shrug off your blouse despite Changbin's octopus-like attachment to your backside.

"I'll buy you new ones," he promises, his voice strained. "Need this more than you need that skirt."

You can't argue with that logic, not when his desperation is so palpable. You reach back to unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor and leaving you in just your underwear and bra. Changbin moans at the increased access, his cock now grinding directly against your panty-covered ass.

"Much better," he groans, his movements becoming more frantic. "Fuck, you feel so good. Been thinking about this all day."

"I can tell," you say dryly, reaching back to unhook your bra. "You couldn't even make it five minutes without humping something."

Changbin doesn't deny it, too far gone in his pleasure to formulate a defense. His hands slide around to cup your breasts as soon as your bra falls away, earning a small moan that went straight to his cock, his hips never ceasing their relentless grinding against your ass.

"Can't help it," he admits, his voice breaking on a particularly good thrust. "Just need it so bad. Need you so bad."

You turn in his arms, pushing him back just enough to get a good look at him. His sweatpants are absolutely ruined, soaked through with cum and precum, clinging obscenely to his still-hard cock. His t-shirt is rumpled and damp with sweat, his pupils blown wide with arousal.

"You're a mess," you tell him, but there's fondness in your voice. "Take off those pants first."

Changbin scrambles to comply, shoving his sweatpants down his legs with such urgency that he nearly trips. His cock springs free, angry red and glistening wet, bouncing against his stomach. It's clear from how swollen and sensitive it looks that he's been playing with himself all day, probably edging for hours before finally letting himself come against your thigh.

"Your shirt too," you direct, stepping out of your own panties and moving toward the bed. "Since you can't keep yourself under control for even five minutes, we might as well do this properly."

Changbin nearly rips his shirt in his haste to remove it, his eyes never leaving your naked body. The moment you sit on the edge of the bed, he's there, positioning himself between your legs, his cock sliding against your inner thigh.

"Can I?" he asks, breathless with need. "Please, baby, I need to—"

"Yes," you cut him off, spreading your legs wider. "But you're going to make me come first."

Changbin nods frantically, dropping to his knees in front of you. But instead of using his mouth like a normal person might, he grips your thighs and pulls you forward until your pussy is pressed against his cock. Then he starts to rut, sliding his shaft through your folds without entering you, the underside dragging against your clit with each movement.

"Fuck," you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. Changbin might be obsessed with grinding, but he's perfected the technique over countless sessions.

"So wet already," he groans, his eyes fixed on where his cock slides through your slick heat. "Love how wet you get for me. Fuck. Love how you let me hump you wherever, whenever I need it."

His shameless admission should be a turn-off, but instead, it sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. There's something undeniably hot about how completely gone he is for you, how he can't control himself around you or even things that remind him of you.

Changbin's hips work in frantic circles, his cock sliding through your folds with increasing urgency. The tip bumps against your clit with each pass, sending jolts of pleasure up your spine.

"I-i'm gonna come again," he whimpers, sounding almost pained. "Fuckkk. Can't hold back. Feels too good."

"Wait," you command voice barely audible over Changbin's moans, gripping his shoulders. "Inside me this time."

You don't have to tell him twice. Changbin surges forward, positioning the head of his cock at your entrance and pushing in with one smooth thrust. But instead of pulling back to establish a proper rhythm, he grinds deep inside you, his pubic bone pressed firmly against your clit.

"Fuck," he groans, his head dropping to your shoulder as his hips work in tight circles. "Nothing feels as good as this. Nothing in the whole fucking world."

The constant pressure against your g-spot and clit has you seeing stars, your hands clutching at his back as pleasure builds rapidly. Changbin's movements grow more desperate, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to hold back his orgasm.

"L-let me feel you-fuck- come," he begs, his voice wrecked. "Need to feel you squeezing my cock. Please, baby, come for me."

His words, combined with the relentless grinding, push you over the edge. Your walls clench around him as pleasure washes through you, pulling a broken moan from your throat.

Changbin follows immediately, unable to resist the feeling of your pussy pulsing around him. He grinds deep into you as he comes, whimpering your name against your skin, his entire body shaking with the force of his release.

For a moment, you both stay frozen, catching your breath. Then, almost imperceptibly, Changbin's hips start to move again.

"Binnie!," you groan, oversensitive. "Seriously?"

He looks at you with an expression that's half apologetic, half desperate. Again. "Can't help it," he admits, his cock somehow still hard inside you despite coming twice already. "Just need a little more."

You fall back on the bed, resigned to your fate. "Fine. But I'm not moving. You do all the work."

Changbin's face lights up, as if you've just offered him the greatest gift imaginable instead of grudgingly allowing him to continue rutting against—well, inside—you.

"Thank you," he breathes, positioning himself over you, his hips already resuming their grinding motion. "Promise I'll make it good for you too."

And somehow, he does. Despite the absurdity of the situation, despite the fact that your boyfriend seems physically incapable of not humping something for more than five minutes at a time, he knows exactly how to move to bring you pleasure.

His grinding continues, relentless in its precision, hitting spots inside you that make your toes curl. His hands find your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples as his hips maintain their circular rhythm.

"Could do this forever," he groans, his face contorted in pleasure. "Just grinding inside you, feeling you so tight and wet around me. Nothing better than this."

You believe him. The single-minded focus with which Changbin approaches humping, whether it's against your thigh, your ass, your hoodie, or now, inside you—borders on religious devotion.

"You're so fucking weird," you tell him, but your body betrays you, responding to his movements with building pleasure.

Changbin just laughs, breathless and strained. "You love it," he counters, grinding particularly deep. "Love how desperate I get for you. How I can't control myself."

He's not wrong. There's something deeply flattering about being wanted this intensely, this constantly. About having a boyfriend who's so obsessed with you that even your laundry can get him off in a pinch.

"Gonna come again," he warns, his rhythm faltering slightly. "Fuck, I can't—can't stop—"

"Do it," you urge, your own pleasure mounting as his grinding becomes more erratic. "Fill me up again."

Your words send him over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he comes for the third time. The feeling of his release flooding your sensitive walls triggers your own orgasm, less intense than the first but longer, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Changbin collapses on top of you, his cock still buried inside you, his hips still making tiny, involuntary movements even as he fights to catch his breath.

"Thank you," he mumbles against your neck, pressing sloppy kisses to your skin. "Needed that so bad."

You stroke his hair, that is stuck on his forehead from the filth of the past hour. "I know you did, baby. Feel better now?"

He nods, then hesitates. "Maybe… maybe one more time? In a little bit?"

You can't help but laugh at his endless appetite. "What are you? A humping machine?"

Changbin lifts his head to look at you, his expression surprisingly earnest. "Only for you," he says. "Nothing else feels right. No one else feels right."

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten with unexpected emotion. Because as ridiculous as his humping habit is, as inconvenient as it can be, there's something undeniably special about being the sole focus of such intense desire.

"I love you," you tell him, meaning it despite everything. "Even if you're a horny little freak who can't keep his dick to himself for five minutes."

Changbin grins, unashamed. "Love you too," he says, already beginning to harden inside you again. "Now, about that one more time…"

As his hips start their familiar grinding rhythm, you resign yourself to another round, and probably several more after that. Because that's life with Changbin.

And honestly? You wouldn't have it any other way.

[leupagus]

It's funny because I don't even think Abbot is the most interesting person on the night shift, let alone in the show, yet I continue rotating him, as the kids say, in my head*

and I keep coming back to the idea of Walsh and Abbot as not-rivals-not-exes-but-a-third-dumber-thing.

Because can you just IMAGINE, the day shift winding down at the park benches after another shitty day, this time with Santos and Whitaker and Mel, but without Robby for whatever reason, maybe he’s taking some PTO and so Abbot steps in to pull a double like he’s some dumbass resident, but it’s the end of the shift so whatever, they’re all relaxing until Walsh comes stomping out there to scream at Abbot for some patient they sent up to Trauma Surgery an hour or so before, which Abbot responds to by bellowing right back, re-attaching his leg just so he can storm off after her when she shouts about practicing medicine from at least the 20th century if not the 21st, and also he still hasn’t answered Christie’s evite, and if he doesn’t want to be sitting at the kid’s table again he’d better fucking get a Partiful account and respond before she pulls his spleen out through his urethra.

The sound of Drs. Abbot and Walsh arguing fades as they stomp back toward the hospital, though it takes a surprisingly long time until Mel can no longer hear a shouted, “Are you shitting me?” from one or the other of them. But finally the doors close and there’s just the gentle susurration of traffic.

In the ensuing quiet, Santos lets out a low whistle.

Princess laughs and nudges Donnie for another beer. “Bet you guys won’t miss that,” she says to Javadi, who smiles and looks around the group in quick succession — nervous, curious, cautious.

“I always wondered, actually,” she says. “About— you know. Their deal.”

“Their deal— oh,” Mel realizes, almost as soon as she speaks. “You mean why they act so unprofessionally around each other?” Next to her, Dr. Mohan laughs.

“It’s weird though, right?” says Whitaker, his brows knit together. “Like, I know a lot of people who work here are friends outside of work, or like, have a close relationship—”

“Oh, they are not friends,” Donnie mutters, draining the last of his beer and crushing it tidily between his hands. “Way worse.”

“My money’s on exes,” Santos says, sitting up from her prone position on the cement. She takes Dr. Abbot’s seat, elbows on her knees, leaning forward. “Who wants in on the action?”

“The three people who don’t already know the answer don’t bet,” Whitaker says.

Santos looks around at them, her gaze identical to the one she wears when she’s assessing a new patient. “Fuck, you’re right.”

“So what is their, um, deal?” Mel asks.

“Okay, so,” says Princess, shifting side to side in her seat. “About three years ago, the higher-ups finally got us another attending—”

“Yeah, Robby’d only been asking for one ever since he’d taken over—”

“—and it’s this very charming Dr. Jonathan Abbot, we all love him down here, he’s great, right? I mean, great for doctors,” Princess adds.

“No offense,” Donnie offers, though Princess’s expression indicates that she may have meant a little bit of offense.

“Anyway, it’s all great. Except, at the same time we get a new trauma surgeon and our brand new shiny Dr. Abbot fucking hates her. They’re usually on the same shift so the whole place is just fucking miserable whenever she comes down to consult, and some of us are sociopathic enough, Donnie—"

“I was only friends with Melissa— not you, different Melissa— to get the skinny on what was going on with Walsh and Abbot!” Donnie protests.

“And what did you find out? Shit is what you found out,” Princess informs him.

“Not true, I’m the one who found out they were related.”

“They’re what?” Dr. Mohan says, looking equal parts horrified and about to burst into laughter. “That’s — oh, wow, that explains some things.”

“Wait, didn’t you know about this?” Santos demands, waggling her fingers to point at Mohan and Princess and Donnie in turn. “You’ve worked here for like—"

“I didn’t know anything about this,” Dr. Mohan confirms, though she doesn’t sound annoyed. More… rueful, maybe.

“Well, we thought you were kind of stuck-up until last month,” Princess says, leaning companionably against Dr. Mohan’s shoulder.

Dr. Mohan frowns, but it doesn't look as though she really means it. “I’m not! I’m just… studying, most of the time.”

“You never seemed stuck-up to me,” Mel offers, unsure if it will help at this moment but willing to try.

“You seemed super stuck up to me, but you’re also kind of the shit so it’s fine,” Santos says.

“Okay, you all are doctors, your opinion on doctors is irrelevant,” says Princess. “Do you want to hear about the whole Walsh Abbot thing or what?” They all want to hear about the whole Walsh Abbot thing, so she continues. “All we know at this point is that these guys have beef, big time. But nobody can figure out if it’s like, sexual tension—”

‘’—genuine hatred,” Donnie chimes in.

“I had five bucks on ‘Walsh ran over Abbot’s dog,’ I remember,” Princess said with a certain air of reminiscence.

“Anyway,” Donnie continues, “everybody’s trying to figure it out — we check Linked-In to try and see if they worked together before or what, but Abbot doesn’t even have a fuckin’ Linked-In. So somebody, not naming names, his name might begin with J-E-S-U-S, looks at their personnel files, and there’s no overlap anywhere.”

“However!” Princess says, lifting her hand with one finger aloft, dramatic as all get-out. Mel finds herself oddly captivated by it. She wonders how many residents and med students have heard this story at their feet, learning not just how to heal and mend but the lore and mythos of the hospital itself, the things you learn when you don’t think you’re learning at all.

“However,” Donnie is saying, echoing Princess’s word if not her gesture, “there’s a gap in Dr. Abbot’s work history. Eighteen months, right after he’s injured in Afghanistan.”

“So then,” Princess continues, “somebody gets real fucked up and calls their friend at the VA, who checks their records. And during those eighteen months, guess where Dr. Walsh was working?”

“A VA hospital,” Mel guesses, which receives an odd response — everyone else makes a theatrical ooh sound.

“Yes, exactly,” Princess says. “Turns out Walsh is the doc who amputated his foot.” There's a louder oooh; Mel can't really pinpoint why she joins in, but there's a certain satisfaction to it.

"And after that? They don’t work at the same place but they’re always in the same city. Charlottesville—“

“Portland—”

“—then Detroit. And now they’re here.”

“…Secretly married?” Dr. Mohan ventures, pursing her entire face. “I mean, I could maybe see it. Is that what you meant by related?”

“No fair, Slo-Mo, you said you wouldn’t bet!” Santos protests.

“Not married,” Donnie says. “Not divorced.”

“They have definitely never known each other biblically,” Princess confirms. “No, it’s even worse than that. They’re—” She pauses, and Donnie drums his hands on his knees, as though this were an announcement on an old-time contestant show. “—in-laws.”

“What?” says…well, pretty much everybody.

“Walsh married Abbot’s little sister,” Donnie says, nodding. “Pretty much the day it was legal in PA.”

Mel felt a sinking in her abdomen. “Does Dr. Abbot not… approve, or—"

“Oh, fuck no — sorry, no,” Donnie says, laughing as he reaches out a hand. “No, dude’s chill with the LGBTQ-Plus, don’t even worry, no. It’s kinda… so look, we weren’t there, we can’t say what happened—"

“Fuck you, I can,” Princess says, dismissing him with a wave. “Abbot’s sister came in once, looking for him, and I managed to get her to cough up the story. What happened was at the wedding, Abbot got totally fucking hammered and gave like — the most embarrassing speech of all time, like about how his little sister came out to him first and he expressed his allyship by taking her to a dyke bar in downtown Phoenix.”

“Seems supportive to me,” Santos says.

Whitaker snorts. “Yeah, that’s because you’re broken,” to which Javadi nods thoughtfully.

[heartseungbin]

Honey- O.B

synopsis; he's sweet like honey

notes; ur favorite freaky nasty gal is back writing for a new fandom no less lmao but I am a beomseok lover and understander (don't support his dumbass actions btw) and see no stories or smut for him (let alone sub smut) saur here we are, this is before beomseok did all that shit—how tf do you end a fic help wc-697

warnings; none that I know of, smut ofc, trying some new shit so beware..1st person shit

His grip on my shirt is maddening, tightening with every brush of my tongue against the sensitive skin of his neck. He's moaning loudly in the still air, the moonlight illuminating the pink flush of his neck. "Good?" I whisper, unwilling to disturb the atmosphere. He hums in response and pull away from his neck, scanning his face. His head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut with his plump lips slightly parted, showing off his bunny teeth.

Soft hums are escaping his lips, making me smile. "Eyes on me," I say, trailing a hand down to his pants while the other holds his jaw. I press rough kisses to his jawline and he moans directly into my ear, the hot air sending goosebumps down my spine. His legs tighten around my waist, locking me in place with his cock flush against my stomach. He opens his eyes then, big and glossy, attempting to focus.

I move my hand from his jaw to the back of his head, pressing his lips against mine. I begin to palm his cock through his dress pants with my free hand. His breath hitches and his grip on me tightens yet again. I pull away, a string of saliva connecting us still. His eyes are lidded and he almost looks drunk, the soft glow of the moonlight hitting him just right.

I can almost feel the moment he decides it isn't enough, yet he stays relatively silent save for the occasional whimper of my name as he grinds his wet cock into the palm of my hand. "Do you wanna keep em on?" I ask, pulling my hand away from his cock and placing it on the waistband of his pants. He bites his lip and nods. "Actually, I have a better idea," I say, placing my hands onto his waist and guiding him to sit on the bed. His eyes are studying my every move, moving when I do as he silently questions what I'm doing.

I get off the bed, removing my pants and panties. His eyes widen, hands flying up to his face in embarrassment. "Nothing you haven't seen before," I laugh, crawling back into the bed beside him. I push him onto his back and crawl on top of him as he laughs nervously, eyes looking anywhere but my own. I slide down his body, sitting myself onto his thighs.

He watches me now as I slide down his pants and underwear together and his cock slaps his stomach, hard and leaking. "You're soaked honey," I smile, and he whines, embarrassed at my words. He attempts to help me by wiggling out of his pants and underwear. I take them off, throwing them onto the floor beside the bed. I crawl my way up his body once more till I'm face to face with him, studying his expression.

"Wanna six-nine?" I say, head tilted in amusement. He bites his lip, cheeks turning a soft pink. He looks at the wall away from me, hand coming up to rest over his mouth. I snatch his hand away, narrowing my eyes. "Yes, or no?" I question, searching his face for an answer. He nods once again.

"Words, Beomseok." and he turns back to me, eyes blown with lust. "Yes, please," and I smile. The first words he's said since we started this. I sat up, moving to the side of the bed and turning around. I throw a leg around his body, face to face with his cock. "We can start now," I say, grabbing his cock. I feel his hands wrap around my ass, pulling me by my waist.

He seems hesitant until I feel his lips against my pussy, placing a chaste kiss there. He tentatively licks a stripe up to my clit and I moan, sinking my lips onto his cock until my nose hit his . He moans into me, the vibrations making my hole clench. "mphf—more," he moans, suckling me like honey. I grab onto his ass, taking him even further. His hips buck into my mouth, forcing him deeper into my mouth and I quickly sit up, away from him. "Don't do it again."

[prequelappreciation]

I've been meaning to write a post about this for ages but y'all beat me to it lol so I'm just gonna post what I had saved in drafts (bear in mind, this was written right after The Acolyte ended and without any knowledge of the quotes you just provided):

I think we as Star Wars fans need to get together as a collective and have a serious conversation about Darth Plagueis just to get a solid grasp on who he is, what he is, whether or not he actually existed in universe, and whether the story Palpatine tells Anakin is 100% factual because I think huge part of the reason people are having such massive issues with The Acolyte is because they have it in their heads that so much of Darth Plagueis supposed story is canon when in reality... it isn't and it never has been. Yes, yes, I'm aware that there is a Plagueis book but that was never and still is not official canon. A challenging aspect about being a Star Wars fan is there is canon and then there is a bunch of extra shit that people sort of pick and choose from but a lot of the Darth Plagueis stuff has just been accepted as canon by so many fans...

It only recently occurred to me because of the reaction to certain story beats in The Acolyte that a lot of people take the story Palpatine tells Anakin about Plagueis in ROTS very, very literally. Personally, I've always interpreted the story to be a loose version of the truth. I mean, come on, Palpatine is famously an extremely manipulative villain. Why in the fuck would he tell Anakin the whole truth if he's fully manipulating Anakin onto his side?? He literally tells Anakin, "It's a Sith legend," so it's entirely plausible that the story was never meant to be taken at face value by the audience and was meant to be viewed as something more akin to a legend like King Arthur or Robin Hood; a story that has possibly been passed down for centuries and maybe it happened, maybe it didn't. Maybe Plagueis existed, maybe he didn't. Maybe he found out how to create life and cheat death, maybe he didn't, maybe the answer is somewhere in between. Anakin obviously takes it at face value because he's so desperately looking for an answer to his nightmares but Palpatine is an unreliable narrator and could even be manipulating details of a true story in order to sway Anakin's thinking towards his side.

Not to mention, Palpatine contradicts himself in the film. When it's revealed to Anakin that Palptine is Darth Sidious, Palpatine implies he knows the Dark Side power that could save Padme but once Anakin fully turns over to the Dark Side, Palpatine says, "To cheat death is a power only one has achieved but if we work together, I know we can discover the secret," which heavily implies that actually, Palpatine has absolutely no idea how to save people from dying. Yes, you could argue this is a script flub but I don't think it was, I think it shows that Palpatine fully manipulated Anakin into believing there was a potential power that could cheat death when, in reality...there isn't.

Also, hate to break it to everyone but there is nothing in the Plagueis legend that remotely implies that Palpatine was Plagueis's apprentice, let alone even knew him personally aside from how you choose to interpret Ian McDiarmid's performance which, on the one hand, could be him reminiscing on his own past but could also just be him being fascinated with the story. Again, yes, yes, I know there's a book where Palpatine is his apprentice and has it where he was alive during the events of The Phantom Menace but again, that book is not and has never been considered official canon. Darth Plagueis got named-dropped once in six movies in an extremely effective lore-drop scene and everyone built up this entire story around it that most people seem to think is canon: Plagueis figured out how to use the midichlorians to create life, therefore, he created Anakin Skywalker which would explain why his mother claims he had no father, and Palpatine was the apprentice who learned everything from him and proceeded to kill him in his sleep even though none of that has ever been canonically verified or set in stone in any way.

I didn't like The Acolyte for my own reasons and I do kind of hate Disney Lucasfilm for touching Plagueis with a ten foot pole but disliking the show because it's interpreting a story that was always meant to be a literal legend is lowkey wild.

(Thanks for those quotes, I'll take those into my interpretation).

I'm going to climb up on a new hill to die on: I THINK PALPATINE'S PLAGUEIS STORY IS 100% MADE UP BULLSHIT. If you discount supplementary material created by other authors, the only thing we know about Plagueis is that speech Palpatine gives at the bubble opera, one we already know is designed to manipulate Anakin, but watching Revenge of the Sith in the theater again, thinking about how Anakin will later parrot Palpatine's words exactly--I realized, oh, it's not just a story being used to manipulate Anakin, I think it's a story created to manipulate Anakin, right where Palpatine wants him. It's a story about a Sith lord who learns how to make people stop dying. A Sith Lord who wants to stop his loved ones from dying. We know Palpatine doesn't actually know how to do this--the movie seems to imply that Palpatine was Plagueis' apprentice, but I'm not so sure. Palpatine says that Plagueis taught his apprentice everything--which would include the saving people bit--but Palpatine doesn't know how to save people, he says that he and Vader will discover it together and Anakin doesn't go, "Hey, wait, I thought you were supposed to know this!", which throws unreliability onto Palpatine's story already. There's a lot Palpatine is doing in this movie to manipulate Anakin very specifically--he puts Anakin on the Council, knowing they will ask him to spy on the Chancellor and even "guesses" it before Anakin can say anything at the opera, that he suggests Anakin should be the one to go to Utapau knowing that the Council will vote for a more experienced Master, he reveals himself to Anakin knowing that Anakin will tell them and be forced to choose, he tells Anakin the Plagueis story knowing that Anakin fears Padme's death (he is likely aware of Anakin's emotions about this, being an evil psychic space wizard himself) and sets it up so that it's the perfect bait. The conversation in ROTS goes:

Palpatine: "Remember back to your early teachings. All who gain power are afraid to lose it. Even the Jedi." Anakin: "The Jedi use their power for good." Palpatine: "Good is a point of view, Anakin. The Sith and the Jedi are similar in almost every way... including their quest for greater power." Anakin: "The Sith rely on their passion for their strength. They think inwards- only about themselves." Palpatine: "And the Jedi don't?" Anakin: "The Jedi are selfless. They only care about others." Palpatine: "Did you ever hear the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise? I thought not. It's not a story the Jedi would tell you. It's a Sith legend. Darth Plagueis was a dark lord of the Sith... so powerful and so wise... he could use the Force to influence the midi-chlorians... to create... life. He had such a knowledge of the dark side... he could even keep the ones he cared about... from dying." Anakin: "He could actually... save people from death?" Palpatine: The dark side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities... some consider to be unnatural." Anakin: "What happened to him?" Palpatine: "He became so powerful... the only thing he was afraid of was... Iosing his power. Which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew. Then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. It's ironic. He could save others from death... but not himself." Anakin: "Is it possible to learn this power?" Palpatine: "Not from a Jedi."

This entire conversation is a set-up to make Anakin think that it's not selfish to change his views, because it's just exactly as Anakin says the Jedi are selfless and only care about others that he starts the Plagueis story about this legendary Sith who just cared so much about his loved ones that he learned how to stop them from dying. But, oh, he couldn't stop himself from dying, he was only thinking of others! Not himself! Throughout the movie Palpatine is manipulating Anakin's thoughts so that Anakin will think in exactly the lines of thought that Sidious wants him to. ("Good is a point of view, Anakin." --> "From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!", "You know I'm not able to rely on the Jedi Council. If they haven't included you in their plot, they soon will." --> "I should have known the Jedi were plotting to take over!" Etc.) So when he wants Anakin to really consider using the dark side, he tells him a story about this mysterious Sith Lord who just wanted to save his loved ones, not himself, just those he cared about. It's the perfect way to give Anakin an excuse to take that first step that doesn't seem so bad, so against everything he knows is right, and think that it's okay if it's for someone else. It's not because he's so scared to lose someone he loves that he'll make a deal with the devil, no, he's just thinking of others, the ones he loves. The story is so perfectly designed to appeal to Anakin at this moment in time and so incongruent with everything else we know about Sith Lords and how the dark side works (the dark side is not a path to anything good), that I think it's 100% made up bullshit, just like everything Palpatine says to Anakin in this movie is a set-up to direct Anakin's thoughts where he wants them.

[snail-day]

Packing for a beach trip right now and it's got me thinking about SatoSugu on trips.

I'd imagine that, Suguru does all the planning. Lets you pick out all your little outfits - bikinis, coverups, cute little sundresses, and folds them neatly into your shared suitcase. He even sneaks in one outfit he picked out himself, something that coordinates with what he and Satoru are bringing. “For family pictures,” he murmurs, not looking at you, and you don’t have the heart to tease him when you catch the soft flush on his cheeks.

(He absolutely scrapbooks. Has little captions under Polaroids like Baby's first beach trip, and Satoru tried to catch a seagull. Mothers so hard and denies it harder)

You’re sprawled out across the bed, bally down as you scroll on your phone, Suguru sits cross-legged on the floor in front of two open suitcases. Occasionally, holds something up and asks, “Are these shoes okay for walking?” or “Can I put your jewelry with my stuff, don't want it to get lost, y'know?” Always so thoughtful and careful with your things. He folds all of Satoru’s clothes too - meticulously, even though Satoru will inevitably wrinkle them within twenty minutes, and throws in an extra pair of glasses just in case. Even a little sun hat for you.

Your job, along with Satoru’s, is to handle the little travel essentials: snacks, toiletries, chargers, the fun stuff. Satoru loves going to the store with you. Gets to nudge your arm with his, steal quick kisses when no one’s looking (and when they are), and hold up items like, “Think Suguru would like these?” or “Ooo, should we get him a book for the beach?” You both go wildly off-list, of course. New towels? Absolutely. Sandcastle tools? Necessary. A novelty kite shaped like a jellyfish? You know exactly who’s going to be holding that string from a lounge chair while you and Satoru dive into the waves.

On the actual trip, whether it’s a plane, train, or long car ride, the seating arrangement is always the same. You get the window. Suguru takes the middle. Satoru sprawls out in the aisle seat. That order isn’t negotiable. Suguru insists he just prefers the middle, but you know it’s because he doesn’t want strangers brushing up against you. He’s still working on that possessiveness thing (his words, not yours). And Satoru, well - he has to be on the aisle. Says it's for his long legs and so he can ensure everyone is safe. Mostly it’s because he likes to go fetch snacks.

Once you arrive, it’s pure bliss. Suguru likes to relax. He spreads out under an umbrella with a book and takes photo after photo of the waves, of you and Satoru tangled up in salt-soaked towels, of his sandals half-buried in sand. He takes selfies too, pulling you into frame with a kiss to your your cheek and waving Satoru into the shot with the sweetest smile. He’ll ask a stranger to take a full group picture and makes it his lock screen later.

Satoru, on the other hand. He spends the day chasing you into the surf, tossing you over his shoulder despite Suguru's protests (You're laughing! What's the harm?), and twirling you around until you’re both breathless and sun-drenched. Suguru watches from his spot on the sand, sunglasses reflecting the sea. You’ll find him smiling to himself every time he catches you looking his way. He will give a little wave. Vacations are his favorite times with you both <3

[sulumuns-dootah]

How would the kings react when having a playful argument with the MC, MC suddenly says 'You're lucky I love you'?

Having a playful argument w/ the WHB kings

⟡ Masterlist ⟡ 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"Prove it"

If you really mean it, then show him how much you do

He did rile you up, didn't he? He deserves a punishment for that

Hit him

Hit him as hard as you can

Hell, tap into his power and send him flying all the way to the other side of Hell

If you don't even try, he'll try to rile you up even more

       ༺☆༻

"I'm- I'm sorry, did I go overboard?"

The ever so gentle giant always wants to respect your boundaries in everything, but sometimes struggles to recognise them

He's quick to stop the playful argument and starts looking for a way to make it up to you

So now you have to reassure him that you're okay and he didn't do anything that bad

Doesn't really matter though

He'll still commission that statue of him kneeling before you

       ༺☆༻

"Obviously. That still doesn't matter that I'll treat you any different"

No fight or argument with Levi is fully playful

There's always that serious undertone to it

And yes, if you take it too far, he will hang you no futher question

Unless you can actually manage to spin it around and make him a blushing subby mess that's one second from cumming into his pants

It's hard to do, but ther reward may seem worth it, no?

       ༺☆༻

"Huhu, I know..."

On the other side of a coin, Beel never takes arguments seriously even if they are

I recommend not telling him this actually

If he realises that you're letting thing slide just because he's adorable and knows how to give good backshots, he'll start trying to see how far he can push his luck

And even telling him that he's gone too far wouldn't probably work anymore

He'll just do whatever he wants which is kinda terrifying now that It think about it

       ༺☆༻

"Oh? That's good"

I think I already did some arguing HC's and said that Belphie doesn't really argue so with the same spirit he'll just acknowledge your confession and continue to flatly state things

Though, thinking about it, Belphie does fit the memo of someone who would just laugh at you while you're spitting fire

So even during playful argument he would try to rile you as much as he can

"Hm? And what's that got to do with what we're talkin' 'bout?"

       ༺☆༻

"Aw, I love you too... But I'm still gonna fuck you like I don't."

You two might not even be arguing about anything spicy or anything

He just throws this thing your way and completely changes the mood of the situation

Though to be fair, all of your arguments, serious or palyful, always end with your legs in different area codes so his remark only speeds things up along

It's kinda hard to come up with good funny responses when all you can think of is that good action that'll come next

       ༺☆༻

"I know. I am lucky."

Instant end to your argument

How can you argue with him when he's so sweet

All you can only do now is to deflate and melt into his touch

It's okay tough, he didn't really get the point of playful fighting anyway

It mostly only reminds him of his Seraphim brothers constantly bickering about pointless things

So he prefers the quiet moments in life more