#i was just writing it when i suddenly realized

[lovebugism]

smutty requests you say... maybe eddie x reader fooling around secretly, while wayne's home? so like a little exhibitionism kink?

i'm just now realizing i totally misread the prompt so pls forgive me anon, i'll happily write a part 2 to this if u want!! — the first time uncle wayne catches you and eddie in the act™ (established relationship, inspired by this universe, smut 18+ | 1.3k)

“Alright. I’m headed out,” Wayne announces in a gravelly drawl, huffing as he rises from his creaking recliner. His work boots sound heavy on the worn carpet as he trudges towards the front door, closer to a wretched and unavoidable graveyard shift. His old bones are weighed down by a preemptive dread and a homemade meal you cooked with him in mind.

Eddie feels bad for being so happy to see him leave.

“Have fun,” the boy lilts playfully from where he’s sprawled along the couch, smiling wide with his head tilted to his shoulder.

Wayne grumbles vaguely in response.

“Bye, Mr. Munson,” you grin more sincerely than the boy beside you.

The man flashes you a mere hint of a grin, which is a whole lot more than most people get these days. He pulls a worn baseball cap over his balding head and nods once in your direction. “Bye, sweetpea,” he responds in his usual gritty and melodic Southern cadence.

The rusted hinges of the screen door squeal open and shut behind him. A wintery breeze billows in, briefly piercing the heated trailer and biting at Eddie’s burning skin. 

You idle on the other side of the couch, with your eyes drawn to the sitcom playing in static colors ahead of you — unaware of your boy’s building desire and far too distant for his liking. Eddie marvels at your profile, unabashed and boyish, and waits for the perfect moment to strike.

He hears Wayne’s truck door close with a muffled thud. The ignition rattles for a moment, then roars when amber headlights shine suddenly through the sheer curtains. Eddie waits until he hears the tires crunch against the gravel drive before he pounces on you, like unsuspecting prey to a predator of unbridled longing.

You squeal when his mouth locks suddenly with your pulse, warm and wet on your unkissed skin. He wraps you in his arms like he intends to smother you against him. You swear you can feel his heart racing against your shoulder. His tongue darts along the most sensitive spot on your neck, and your head tips back with an airy laugh.

“What?” Eddie mumbles, muffled into your skin.

“Nothing,” you giggle. “Just thought you’d last longer than that.”

“Hm. Feel like I’ve heard that one before.”

“Shut up,” you gripe, but pull him impossibly closer just the same.

You bury your nose in his wild curls, inhaling the sweet scent of his conditioner and the subtle skunky smell of weed. He mouths at your neck with an intentional sloppiness that makes your eyes flutter.

Eddie grumbles a moan against your skin, which you feel in little tingles in the pit of your stomach. “You taste good,” the boy observes mindlessly into your pulse.

“I taste like sweat,” you scoff against his temple. “I still need to shower.”

“What’s the point? You’re just gonna get dirty again.”

Eddie pulls away with a soft smack. His lips are rosy and softly swollen as they curl into a grin. His chocolate eyes swim with mischief as yours narrow into a squint. “You’re such a boy,” you deadpan.

“Just love you,” the boy shrugs. “That’s all.”

You’re grateful when his lips finally meet yours. You’re only able to breathe when he’s kissing you, in a heavy exhale through your nose that fans along his cupid’s bow. He licks into your mouth tasting like a homecooked meal and nicotine and boy. Something foreign and nostalgic and tender. You melt into him accordingly. 

When he urges you to lay back against the couch, you let him. You cradle his face in your hands to keep him close as he props himself on his forearms, careful not to crush you despite his efforts to kiss the breath from your lungs. His weight is a comforting one anyway — body warm and lean and pleasantly heavy on top of yours.

You forget to take another breath until Eddie pulls away. You inhale deeply, lungs grateful for air, as the boy’s mouth treks down your jaw.

He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck and collarbone, spit cooling and drying again on your skin. Goosebumps pebble in their wake, while his hand slides down your stomach.

His fingertips creep into the waistline of your pajama pants, perhaps a fruitless distraction from the lovebite he sucks just below your jaw. It’s a burning sensation of his teeth, followed by a warmer, more pleasant one as his tongue smooths over the bite.

“What are you? A vampire?” you giggle, fingers twisting in his hair.

You feel his smile curl into your neck. “Maybe,” he quips.

“I have to go leave eventually. You know that, right? And my roommates will freak if they see a hickey.”

Eddie whines between his kisses. “No, you don’t,” he insists with an audible frown. “Why can’t you just stay here forever?”

“Even if I wanted to, Wayne would still see. And that would be equally as horrifying.”

“He won’t be back until morning,” Eddie argues, punctuated by his teeth scraping your pulse. “It’ll be faded by then. Probably.” He licks over the bite and pulls away, peering down at you with a mischievous leer. “Unless… You want me to stop?” he offers in a sarcastic lilt.

You squirm under his gaze. “No…” you answer sheepishly.

He grins. “Then stop complaining, sweet thing.”

“Eddie,” you scold when the boy ducks down again, continuing his assault on your delicate skin, though you make no further attempt to stop him.

His kisses grow wetter and warmer and more languid as his hand travels down down down. A breathy moan catches in your throat when his calloused palm cups your bare pussy.

The damp, velvet feeling of you makes Eddie’s eyes widen. He didn’t know you’d be naked down there. He might’ve been more careful about it if he had.

“Shit,” he huffs.

“Sorry,” you squeak, face swirled apologetically.

Eddie pulls away again, head spinning as he stares down at you with heavy eyes. “No— Don’t— Don’t apologize for that shit, are you kidding?” he stammers, then laughs at how sorrowful you look. Like this could ever be a bad thing. “It’s hot.”

You smile sheepishly. “I’m just running out of clean clothes. That’s why I had to do the laundry today.”

“Well, next time, I’m just gonna lock the door to the washer,” Eddie retorts playfully. “So then you have to walk around naked.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re such a boy,” you repeat, right before you drag him down by his shoulders to swallow him in another kiss.

You lick into his mouth only to find that his hand had never wavered. He cups you delicately there still, and creeps his middle finger between your satiny folds. 

Your hips buck on instinct. His palm bumps your clit. Your moans entwine in a kiss.

The screen door opens again with another grating screech. You and Eddie part instantly, swollen mouths smacking as your heads turn in sync.

Wayne stills in the doorway, weathered face swirled in horror. Neither of you move for several long moments — like, if you stay still, you’ll turn invisible somehow.

“Really?” Wayne huffs. “On the couch?”

Eddie’s wide eyes dart awkwardly. “What are you doing here?” he wonders breathlessly, still on top of you and still with his hand down your pants.

“Forgot my damn wallet.” Wayne keeps his gaze averted as he trudges to the tiny, square dining table by the window. He tucks the leather billfold into the pocket of his navy jumpsuit and promptly returns the way he came.

You and Eddie spare a wordless look of horror between you in the meanwhile.

“Do it in a bed next time, alright?” Wayne advises from the doorway with his back facing you. The rusted door creaks open and, just before it shuts behind him, you hear him shout. “And use protection!”

[a1ecmcdowell]

LIVEWIRE — jj maybank x reader.

livewire (n) — an energetic or unpredictable person; a force of nature. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤthat boy is a livewire; he'll ruin you, or die trying.

. . . or, jj's crashout — featuring you.

includes, SEXUAL CONTENT! MDNI. kinda pwp. crashout!jj. best friend!fem!reader. forced proximity. high stakes. dirty talk. jj is vocal. p in v. unprotected sex ( do not do this they r just so ridiculous & horny ). ( semi ) public. he has absolutely no pullout game but he's forgiven for it </3

NOTES. if the door logic doesn't make any sense realistically ... that's not my business. i'm not writing for realism i'm writing for the JJ GIRLS who want 2 fuck CRASHOUT JJ. also my apology for the quote in the tagline ik its too soon still but i joke 2 cope.

Red and blue littered the autumnal afternoon sky, sirens overshadowing the lyrical chirps of the birds, the scattered winds blowing red and orange leaves down the Kildare streets. 

JJ Maybank is a fucking force to be reckoned with. In his wake, town hall’s alarms reared their deafening screeches, the aforementioned chilly winds blowing in handfuls of leaves to scatter the podiums and the foldout chairs. There’s a lone chair on its side in the middle of the well-kept grassy front courtyard. There’s glass burrowing itself in the dirt, reflecting the golden sun’s light at every which way when you turn your head. 

The other pogues are screaming at him to go, to run, and he’s shocked for a moment. Stood like a deer in headlights at the actions that he took. Who knew how much one boy was capable? All of the destruction that two hands could elicit? 

Oh, and what an empowering thought it is, too: realizing what you are capable of doing when you are pushed to the brink. 

There’s that look in his eyes, before he turns on his heels and takes off into the wood, disappearing like a speck in the small bit of forestry separating town hall from the rest of the downtown area. 

You know what that look means. This is merely the first in his rampage. Fire burns blue in the thin line of his irises, everything else overtaken by adrenaline and fucking rage. 

“Someone has to—” Kie starts, and you realize that you’ve been staring straight ahead at the trees he vanished into, eyes locked on the exact path he took. “Someone has to go, go make sure he’s okay—” 

Sarah’s eyes lock on yours. John B grimaces for a second, like he’s considering it, before he looks at you, too. Kie’s words, albeit vague, had never sounded so directed before. Pope—

Pope is getting tossed against the hood of a cop car, and suddenly, the pogues aren’t looking at you anymore. Their gazes break and shatter away from you like the shards of the window surrounding your feet. 

Your heart is racing. You. Chase him down. And what did they expect you to do? To tell him that this wasn’t him, and to stop while he’s ahead, and to hold his hand and guide him back to safety away from the cops’ sirens and cars that had already broken away from the crowd to hunt for him? 

No. This was JJ, and he wouldn’t stop while he was ahead, and he was going to take the cops on his tail like a challenge to keep going until he cracked — or they did. 

You were the only one that ever understood him, really. That was why their eyes immediately shifted to you when the topic came up that someone had to find him, because even while they wanted to help, they would only drive him further away. Not you. Never you. 

You’re turning on your heel and sprinting before anyone can realize what you’re doing. Not the screaming kooks, demanding lawyers and justice to the unlistening winds. Not the pogues, banging on the remaining cop cars to free him, free Pope, stop this fucking madness— 

It’s like a thin line is painted on the ground between you and JJ. An invisible rope, loose but growing more taut the closer you follow on his tail. 

You follow it. Follow that red string into the trees, letting it tug you along until you break out of the shadowy wood and onto main street. 

A car alarm blares. Glass shards on the trunk of it, surrounding the asphalt around it. You slow to a stop to avoid catching any of those sharp, loose pieces in your shoes. Even now that the imaginary red line has faded, you can see traces of where he went in the path of destruction he made. 

A shop’s window busted a few feet away from the car. A street pole sparking and buzzing lowly, electricity humming through the air like a siren’s song, tempting anyone it came across to touch it. Touch the livewire. 

Just a few feet away, there he is. JJ has an outdoor seating chair in his two hands, and he’s seconds from tossing it through the glass window of the cafe it was in front of. 

“JJ!” You shout, your voice faint beneath the sound of the car alarm, the sparking of the electrical fire, the hum of electricity buzzing all around you. 

His head swivels to look back at you, and he looks fucking vicious. He looks like no matter what you say, he’s not going to stop. Not here. The electricity coming from the dented-in box on the street pole is feeding directly into his veins. 

“Not supposed t’be here,” he calls back, and now that fury is directed at you. As if he ever could have stopped you from following the breadcrumbs he only ever left for you. “Can’t fuckin’ stop me.” 

You crunch glass beneath your feet as you run toward him. It’s too late to do anything about the cafe window; its pieces spill onto the glossy wood floor, some splayed onto the sidewalk. 

“Who said I’d try and stop you?” You ask him once you’re close enough. His hand runs through his mussed blonde hair, tugging the strands straight up. 

His eyes flit to you, eyebrows raised behind the loose strands falling back down over them. “M’not letting you get into this shit, too,” he says just as sternly. “It’s my fuckin’ life I’m ruining.” 

“Why?” you ask him, and it is a genuine question, even though you don’t think he’s going to answer. So you start to spit out your own theories. “Because of your dad? Because of what Luke did?” 

His eyes drop to the ground, squinting like he’s looking for something through the shards surrounding his feet. The bat. The end of it sticks out in front of your shoes. 

You bend down to grab it, holding the hitting end out toward him. His eyes are so dark when they glance at it, and then back up to you. His eyes were always oceanic, but now they seemed to be drowned out by the stormy black clouds that were his pupils. 

JJ’s eyes linger on yours. He’s never really made an effort to read you before, more of a take it on the chin sort of guy when it came to how people were, and what they meant to him. But he studied you now, and it was almost unnerving, trying to guess what exactly he saw reflected back to him. 

His fingers close around the hitting end of the bat in a tight grip, using it to pull you closer to him. He’s holding it out to the side, just so that it can’t go taut and rigid between the two of you, allowing you to be tugged closer than you would have been able to be. 

His breaths come in furious pants, audible once you were close to him. He was a livewire. He was sparking, burning everything he touched, trying to take it all to the ground. 

Destruction was always so pretty when it was at his hands. He did everything with purpose, whether it was for the good of who he cared about, or for his own grievances. 

And this sort of destruction, the kind you saw his eyes fall into once you were close enough to share breaths? It was golden and fiery, and full of promise that would break the thin line between your friendship and something else. 

You knew it in the same way that you knew how to follow that red, invisible line to him. Red because it was a bad idea, a waving red flag, telling you to stop, stop, stop. But it connected the both of you, regardless of its color; so how were you expected to?

“Feelin’ hungry?” JJ asks, voice low and almost sinful with the way that it rasped. 

You don’t mean to balk, but you do. It wasn’t a question you expected him to ask, but the double meaning in it, the innuendo laced words, had you stifling on your own words. “For what?” 

The bat slips from his grip, and it falls to hang loosely at your side. “We broke it, we buy it,” he says with a nod toward the shattered gap in the cafe’s window. “Or… not buy it.” His eyebrows bounce when he looks at you, and he leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Did you think I was talkin’ about something else?” 

Your face flushes. Then, you drop the bat to shove at his chest with both hands. “Shut up.” 

“What, you feelin’ all hot and bothered, sweetheart?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Tryna get some fugitive dick before it’s tossed in the slammer?” 

Your face is hot, the trail of heat from your reddened cheeks traveling like a river stream to your lower stomach. “Shut up, JJ,” you seethe, though it has none of the fire you wish it did. You didn’t know why; you had so much of it running through your blood then that it should have made you sound more fiery than you did. 

“Uh huh,” JJ cackles, his hand lifting to the back of your shoulder, pushing you toward the broken window. Once you’re a few steps ahead of him, his hand claps on your ass. “Andele, andele! Cops on the horizon.” 

It takes every bit of your willpower to not whirl around and smack him back. You don’t, because unfortunately for you, the sting only adds to your stomach becoming molten liquid, and for the other, more pressing matter, of the cops’ lights glowing red and blue at the very end of the street. 

You duck into the hole in the glass, feet crunching down on pieces of glass and debris. He follows immediately after, though when he slips into the building, it’s more stumbling than anything graceful. 

“Head t’the back,” he huffs, nodding toward the push-to-open door behind the front counter. “M’not gettin’ fucking caught before I fuck up that goddamn realtor’s house.” 

Arguing with him is a bit useless. JJ’s never been one to listen to anyone when his mind is set on something. You knew this from the moment that you took off in his direction to find him. Still, you almost open your mouth to make the effort to stop him, so at least you could say you did try. 

He cuts in front of you, stepping around the chair he tossed through the window, hopping over the countertop. He stops when he’s leaned against the door, holding it propped for you. 

“I’d say ladies first, but someone’s takin’ their sweet ass time,” he prods, nodding in gesture to the kitchen. 

You scoff, shaking your head, as you circle around the counter, shoving your shoulder into him when you duck underneath his arm. “Some of us aren’t so akin with vandalism.” 

“Some of us,” JJ mocks, his fingers digging into your ribcage as he falls into step behind you, “need t’lighten the hell up.” 

“I’m sorry, but are the cops not literally outside? End of the road?” It’s useless to humor him and his pestering, but it makes your heart beat a little bit faster, so who are you to make it easier for him and just go along with his ploys? 

He tsks. “Semantics.” His head spins around as he takes in the room surrounding them; typical bakery style kitchen, mixers and cutting boards and ovens, sinks lined up on the back wall. There’s tall fridges and deep freezes on one side of the wall, and parallel to it was— “Aha, there we go.” 

JJ cuts in front of you again, doing a little hop and a skip as he bumps his hip into this new door, tugging the handle down as he opens it. “Pantry, or whatever,” he scoffs, his face twisting up, “doesn’t matter to me what the hell it is. Gonna have to camp out in here, you and I.” 

Of course you were. You’d signed up for this, getting involved in this round of his criminalistic habits, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have the right to be annoyed. Weren’t you lot chased by the police enough as is? 

Still, you step into the pantry, the smell of chocolate chips and something else sugary hitting your nostrils the moment you’re inside. Boxes of ingredients line the shelves, including the ziploc bag of chocolate chips. 

JJ’s snatching it up before you can even process it, diving his hand into it and popping the handful between his plush lips. “Told you. Break it, we bought it.” 

Your eyes roll. Vandalism and theft. Probably a hefty sentence, nothing that either of you could afford with Poguelandia on the brink of destruction and your debts already piled high. 

He zips the bag back up and tosses it back on the shelf. “Walkin’ around like you got a stick up your ass, sweetheart,” JJ muses, his fingers closing around your elbow. “Told y’to relax, didn’t I?”

“No,” you say slowly in response. “You told me to lighten the hell up.” 

One side of his mouth quirks in a half smile, dimple gracing his cheek in the process. “Semantics,” he repeats, and he uses the grip he has on your arm to tug you back into his chest. “I could help you lighten the hell up.” 

“I sincerely doubt it, JJ,” you huff, your expression as unimpressed as one’s could be. “You’re the entire reason—” 

His mouth crashes against yours before you can finish that sentence. His mouth is as soft as it looks, the inner shell of his lips chapped. He tastes like weed, like the taste of it is so familiar in his mouth that it embedded itself into his taste. 

You almost don’t kiss back. It’s one of those things that feels like a bad idea because it is. That pointless rule about no kissing on other pogues went out the window the moment Kie and Pope got their hands on each other, but it still felt wrong, to break one of the rules that cemented the glue that held this group together. 

You kiss him back anyways. The moment that you start to respond to his advances, his tongue sweeps across the seam of your lips, pushing his way in. He starts walking the both of you backwards, deeper into the pantry, until your back hits the wall. 

JJ’s hands drop to your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly to wrap your legs around his waist. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him further in until his chest presses against yours. 

His hands let go of you, the press of his body against yours on the wall and your legs tight around his waist keep you held up. His fingers close around the hem of your dress’s skirt, tugging it up. 

Your eyes pop open, falling down to your exposed panties pressed against his denim jeans. When you glance back up at him, lips still lightly pressed to his, they’re blue again, and glimmery. 

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” he murmurs against your lips, stealing another kiss in the process. “Just… tryna get your mind off of—” 

“The manhunt?” You finish for him, and he laughs breathlessly against your mouth. 

“Mm, m’not doing a great job at distracting you, then,” he teases, one of his hands letting go of your dress, the other fisting the fabric as he holds it up. The free hand’s fingers slide down, down, down, until their tips are pressed on the edge of your panties. So close he could probably feel the slickness leaking through the fabric. 

“This all for me, baby?” he asks with that infuriating amusement curled around his words. “Or is it the danger of all this, too? Like bein’ an outlaw with little ol’ me?”

You aren’t even going to dignify him with an answer. Your bottom lip wedges itself between your teeth, your hands curling into fists against the fabric of his shirt. 

His middle finger starts to rub slow, lazy circles over your swollen clit through the damp fabric of your panties, his lips parted like he’s going to say something stupid about the whine that falls from your mouth—

When the sirens get so loud that it echoes around the small pantry. They don’t dissipate, either, which means…

“The door,” you choke out, nodding behind JJ to the pantry door. He’d shut it behind the both of you, but there’s a lock by the top of it, one of those chain link ones. “The lock—” You try to clarify, your brain a bit muddled. 

JJ’s head turns to glance behind him, and you watch his eyes dance up to the chain, too. He lets out a heavy sigh. “Such a damn worrier.” 

“I’m not—” 

Always useless arguing with him. He cuts you off by gripping at your thighs again with his lithe fingers, lifting you off of the wall and tugging you into his chest. 

You grab fistfuls of his shirt so you don’t fall backwards at the sudden movement, your lips curled into a scowl. 

He doesn’t seem to notice. He holds you in his arms as he walks to the door, pressing your back against this one so he can remove one hand from your leg, and lifts it to chain the lock. 

“Better?” he teases, and you’re about to scowl at him again when you watch the smile drop from his lips. 

Just as suddenly as he’d yanked you from the wall, he’s dropping to the ground, your body falling right along with him, knees crashing into the hardwood floors as you land into straddling him. Your mouth opens to gasp, or swear, or gasp and swear, when his fingers close over your lips. 

The cops. You hear them, then, the muffled voices and muddled words. Through the crack beneath the door behind JJ’s planted ass, you see their flashlights, too. 

His eyes meet yours, and he nods once, his expression grim. You blink, and his eyes are again filled with that glimmering mischief that never, in his life, has meant something good. 

And it was truly delinquent of him this time, as his hands drop to the button and fly of his jeans. Your mouth opens and closes in protest, because there’s no way he’s thinking that you two are going to fuck on some cafe’s pantry’s floor with cops right there—

“Oh, get that look offa your face,” he whispers, nosing your chin up and stealing a kiss when you’ve met his eyes again. “As long as you be quiet, what’s the big deal?” 

“You have nothing but awful ideas in that head of yours,” you snap in a low whisper, through your gritted teeth. “I’m not having sex with you right now—” 

JJ’s eyebrows raise. His eyes fall down to your slickened thighs, to the panties beneath the dress pooling his waist that he knows are wet with your arousal. 

“Fuck you.” It’s so pathetic to say, such a weak argument, but it’s the only thing that you can even think right now. Your heart is pounding in your chest with adrenaline and need and the fact that you can feel his hard dick straining in his jeans against your pussy.

JJ tips his head in a nod, his lips still quirked. “Aye aye, captain.” 

He undoes the restraints on his jeans, and his fingers disappear into the flyguard. Your eyes bounce between his face and his hands, his expression contorted in pure concentration that would be adorable if it wasn’t so seriously not. His tongue’s poking between his teeth, panting like an excited puppy, and you just want to—

“Hop on, baby,” he says triumphantly, and those stupid lips curl into an even more stupid grin. His hands pat his thighs to draw your attention downward. 

Fuck.

Your eyes must darken at the sight of him, hard and leaking precum, because he starts cackling like there aren’t police on the other side of the door, trying to cuff him and throw him in the backseat of a police car. “C’mon. Don’t be stingy now, baby, I see how bad you want it.” 

There are rare moments that JJ is right. Broken clocks right twice a day, or something like that. When he’s right, he’s always dead on, and it’s infuriating. 

You glance up at the little window in the door, and for then, at least, it’s clear. No shining flashlights beaming into the pantry you’re both camping in… 

You make bad decisions far less than JJ does. Still, like broken clocks, you both align sometimes. 

Lifting your hips off of his lap, his hands grasp at the backs of your thighs, guiding you onto his waiting cock, slapping it lightly against your pussy a couple of times before he lines himself up and drags the swollen head of it down your folds beneath your panties. He doesn’t give any warning before he pushes himself into you, a hard thrust that brings him all the way to the hilt at once.

Your lips fall open in a sharp gasp, and just barely does his hand make it over your mouth before the moan falls out of your mouth. One hand over your mouth, the other on your ass, guiding you into moving.

“As much as I love that mouth of yours,” JJ groans into your ear, low and rough like the words are being pried out of his lungs and torn through his ribs, “gonna have to keep it down this time.” 

He’s such a fucking hypocrite, though — the moment you adjust to the size of him filling you completely, stretching your inner walls to accommodate to him, and you start to move on your own? His head tips back against the door, guttural moans underneath his breath. 

“Fuck, baby, just like that,” he manages, and you slam down on him again, his hand dragging your hips forward to grind your aching pussy against his pelvis in slow circles. “Oh, fuck, baby—” 

“Shut up,” you muffle through his hand, even though it’s getting to you too, his palm stifling every gasp and breathy whimper before it leaves your parted lips. 

His hand clasps tighter around your mouth, his heavy, half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “You’re not the one in control here, baby.” 

It’s easy to forget, with him stretching you out and being relatively gentle right now, that he’s higher than he’s ever been. Adrenaline turns people into carcasses of themselves; wearing them down to the bone, using every scrap of energy available. 

His blown pupils are glimmering with it. He’s daring you with nothing but a look to see what happens when you keep running your mouth. His hand relents its hold on your mouth, and the other stills your hips as you stay suspended halfway down his cock.

The whine you let out is something you’ll deny later. The gravelly laugh he lets out is something that indicates he won’t let you. 

JJ smears his hand across your mouth, taking the saliva from the corner of your lips and spreading it across them, your cheek, before his two fingers slide into your mouth. “Not so bossy now, are you, baby?” he asks under his breath, as he thrusts his fingers in and out, as he slams his hips up in that same relentless pace as them. “Not so bossy when I’m fucking that mouth and that pretty little pussy.” 

His words burn from your lower stomach to up your spine, electric everywhere they reach. You can do nothing but take it, your hands on his shoulders for some sense of stability. 

Each thrust has the tip of his cock against your cervix, has his fingers clawing along your tongue as he presses them down on it just enough to pry your jaw open. 

“Lemme see that smile, sweetheart,” he murmurs, those two fingers spreading out into a V, forcing the corners of your lips up and into a wide grin. You sneer, and all that does is make him pound into you harder. “Don’t act so fuckin’ fussy, you’re gettin’ what you wanted, aren’t ya?” 

His fingers press on your tongue again, and your lips close around them again. It’s a good distraction from the way you want to scream. Not like you’d ever put that thought in his head with his ego. 

JJ slows his pace, but each thrust is just as hard, so deep in you that you can feel each of them, each minute detail; the thick head of his cock against your cervix, every inch that stretches you further with each of those thrusts, the obscene sound in the silent room of skin slapping against skin. 

“Baby, m’not gonna last much longer,” JJ pants into your ear, his voice still as rough but with an air of desperation. “Not like this, not with how fuckin’ good you’re bein’ for me, nice and quiet while I fuck your juicy pussy— fuck, baby.” 

He drags his fingers over your lips again, this time down, down the valley between your breasts, your stomach, your navel, until they’re planted right in the hot wetness of your folds. They find your clit and begin to rub the swollen nub, slow and gentle and completely at odds with the brutal fucking. 

You’re good, though, even without his hand covering your mouth. Even with—

A flashlight beams through the glass window above the both of you. Your eyes glance up to see it, and JJ’s staring at the spotlight of gold in the center of the room, just inches from his extended legs.

It flicks left, right, and you see the glimmer in the eyes of the officer right there, face pressed to the glass, hear the doorknob jangle against the chained lock—

JJ doesn’t stop. His pace becomes quicker, more erratic, more desperate. Your jaw trembles with the effort to keep your parted lips from making any sound at all, the precipice so close that you’re terrified of whatever noise is going to come out of your mouth when you cum. 

The beam from the light swings away, disappearing as the officer walks away, muffled words through the walls separating you and JJ from them. 

It’s just in time, too, because you cum with a soft and breathless gasp, your walls pulsing around his cock, your head falling forward to bury into his collar. His moans begin to shudder in your ear, and you know that he, too, is cumming. Feel it seconds later, when your head starts to clear from the haze of ecstasy, as the warmth of his cum fills you, his cock twitching inside of you. 

JJ lifts his fingers from between your legs and pops them into his mouth, the sound of him sucking the essence of you off of them making your legs tremble around him. “Like fuckin’ sin,” he whispers reverently. 

He’s so pretty like this. All spent and molten, softening cock inside of you like an extension of you now. His hand lifts to cup your cheek, thumb brushing stray hairs off of your face in the process. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, just as reverently as before, voicing the same thoughts you’d been having about him. 

“You’re so stupid,” you say in response, not capable of telling him how much you love him, feeling it to be the wrong time, too cheesy, another thing he’ll tease you about later. 

It’s there, though, on the tip of your tongue. I love you. And you do, so much that it aches. This man that’d been your best friend since you could remember anything. This man who sacrificed everything constantly for everyone. 

He wouldn’t have to sacrifice anything anymore, you wanna say. He could rest now, you wanted to say, too. 

But it feels wrong. And there’s always another time to tell him when it doesn’t just seem like bliss-driven thoughts. There’s always another day.

notes, thoguht my grief was over but the ending made me cry for some reason that's how u know this death hit deep bc why am i crying over like four lines in a Smut pls

[whokilledsamara]

Could you please write a mr scarletta x afab reader smut 🙏🏼 high key based on all the art of his umbrella being his member or it brings him pleasure when rubbed. Maybe where reader is riding the curved handle of rubbing it between her legs 🫣 if not thank you for taking your time to even just read this!

UMBRELLA

a Mr. Scarletella x afab!reader fic. {an: ooo when i tell you i think about this NIGHTLY}

warnings || misuse of an umbrella, humping, riding an inanimate object, public {for Mr. Scarletella}, afab reader, smut, indirect sex

he always made sure you had it- his umbrella. it was his entire heart and soul, literally him as a being. he trusted you enough- enough that he would leave you with it at all times. he could feel every touch from it, every time your fingers grazed the mesh. you were his human, and he would do anything to mark you as his. regardless if you gave him your name or not.

honestly, you never realized how much it really affected him. you thought all the times he would flinch as you opened the umbrella was just him being, well, him. the way his face would flush and eyes would widen as your hand held the handle, seemed normal to you. though, the more you thought about it, it all started to make sense. Mr. Scarletella was known to be weird and unsettling, but you didn't mind too much. he scared off any creatures that posed a threat to you, plus he was kinda hot-... in his own, creepy way.

it was late at night, or so you assumed- there really wasn't any way to tell time here.. but as you grew restless, tossing and turning on the makeshift bed you had, an idea came to mind. though it was rather risky,, and rather lewd, you couldn't help it. there was really no action here, and all this built up sexual tension definitely didn't help.

your eyes glare daggers at the umbrella that was perched next to your bed. a long stare at that. your thoughts kept debating whether to take the risk or not, until you finally sighed and grabbed it.

he was busy at the time, doing who knows what, but his actions paused when he felt your hands on him- his umbrella. you're supposed to be sleeping, why are you awake? his eyes narrow but he decides to carry on with whatever he was doing.

you on the other hand, were too busy shimmying off your small red panties, still debating your life choices as you rub your fingers down to your entrance, lubing your whole pussy up before shifting in a sitting position, umbrella underneath you. the stick of it was long, and slightly thick. there was a curve at the end for the handle. sighing softly, you lower your cunt on the stick part of it, rubbing your clit on the long pole. your breath instinctively hitches, a hushed whine leaving your lips. your hips move faster and faster, eyes clenching shut.

his heartbeat speed up, so fast he could hear it. his back hits the wall near him and his face turns red, hand coming up to cover his mouth. eyes still wide and staring off into space, his legs slightly trembling as he stays pressed against rhe wall.

oh.. so thats what you're doing..

meanwhile, your small moans grew heavier, pussy lubing up the pole and making it slide easier. one hand was places on the mesh of the umbrella, while the other was on the side of it, keeping you held up. your cunt was so desperately humping it, seeking as much friction as it could. unfortunately, it wasn't enough.

when he feels the pressure be pulled off, he sighs, having a hard time catching his breath as he processes what just happened. his boner was noticeable even through his raincoat, so prominent that it was impossible to cover. his eyes clench shut and he lets out a shaky breath, attempting to catch himself, his eyes widen with shock and a loud groan suddenly escapes him as he feels you actually slip onto the handle of the umbrella. his fucking cock. he drops to his knees and clenches his stomach, eyes wide and a grin that stretches ear to ear. his teeth sunk into his lip, blood seeping out. shaky breaths and whines spill from him, hair somewhat covering his face as his eyes stare off. you were gonna be the death of him.

your breath hitches and you let out a loud, pleased moan, the handle of the umbrella hitting just the right spot so deep inside of you that you almost came as soon as you started. you couldn't get enough, both your insides and clit were being stimulated from your frantic riding. your hips shuttered, moving at an impossible pace, head thrown back and mewls slipping freely from your lips. you needed it so bad, wanted to cum so desperately that you didn't care how you got it. nor did you care that you were riding a fucking umbrella.

the handle hits a perfect peak. your eyes roll back so far into your skull and you let out one last loud moan, hips sputtering and an orgasm crashing though you. the handle was still deep inside, a bit of drool sliding down your chin. your eyes dart down at the sight- a messy umbrella covered in both your juices and orgasm, but also.. semen?

oh shit.

embarrassment covers your face, realizing your mistake. you hopelessly forgot that his umbrella was practically him as a being, and you just rode it, let alone came on it. you slowly pull it out of you, an unwilling whimper leaving your lips at the feeling.

how could you possibly get out of this one..?

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[bloomzone]

Feeling Overwhelmed? You're Not Alone. Let's Talk About It..

I know we all go through it. You’re balancing school, friends, family, and everything else, and suddenly, it feels like you're carrying the weight of the world. Lately, I've been feeling burned out, overwhelmed, and like everything is piling up at once. With school stress, exams, and the constant pressure to keep up, I sometimes feel like I can’t breathe. It's exhausting, and I'm sure some of you feel the same.

It’s so easy to get stuck in the cycle of trying to do everything perfectly. Every time you think you’ve got it under control, something else comes at you, and you’re back to square one and YES THIS IS ANNOYING!!!. It's like there’s a never-ending list of things to do, and no matter how hard you work, you never seem to catch a break.

And the worst part? The pressure from others. Whether it's friends, classmates, or even family, there's always someone asking you for help. Sometimes I feel like I’m the go-to person for everything—assignments, questions, last-minute requests. And don’t get me wrong, I want to be helpful, but it can get draining. Especially when you're trying to hold it together and just need a little space for yourself

For example:Today I couldn’t catch a break already stressed about exams, and in desperate need of rest. Just as I sat down to breathe, the calls and messages started.

One of my classmates began spamming me with messages, asking about a history and geography exam date that we ALL already knew. Then, another classmate began asking for English assignment answers. She wouldn’t stop. She kept sending, “Hi, hi, hi, hi…” over and over until I caved and responded.When I finally sent her the answers, her response? “Ahh, what would I do without you? You’re a lifesaver!” And while I know she meant it kindly, it felt so heavy I feel guilty. What about MY life? What about my peace?

In that moment, I realized how much I was giving to others and how little I was leaving for myself. I was pouring all my energy into helping everyone else while I was running on empty

And plus I’ve been in those moments when you’ve studied hard for an exam, thought you’re finally catching up, and then suddenly—a change happens. A test gets rescheduled, an assignment gets pushed to the last minute, and it feels like everything you worked for was just... wasted. I get it. And it’s okay to feel frustrated and angry about it. You’re allowed to feel this way. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.

But here’s something I’ve been reminding myself lately: I am not responsible for everyone else's stress. It’s okay to say no, it’s okay to take a break, and it’s okay to not always have everything figured out. Taking care of yourself isn’t selfish; it’s necessary.

Here 5 Tips That Are Helping Me Cope with Stress and Burnout

1. Set Boundaries and Protect Your Energy: I’ve learned that it’s okay to say no. If someone’s asking for help, and you’re already feeling stretched thin, it’s okay to tell them, “I can’t right now.” You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you deserve your time and energy as much as anyone else does.

2. Don’t Overload Yourself—Take It One Step at a Time: Break your tasks into smaller, more manageable chunks. Don’t try to do everything at once—focus on one thing at a time. It makes the workload feel less daunting and more achievable. One task, one hour at a time.

3. Rest is Not a Luxury, It’s a Necessity: Sometimes we push ourselves too hard because we think we’ll get behind if we take a break. But if you don’t rest, you’ll burn out. Give yourself permission to step away, even for just 10 minutes. Watch a comforting youTube video, take a walk, or close your eyes. A little time for yourself can give you the energy to come back even stronger.

4. Talk About Your Feelings—Don't Bottle It Up: If you’re feeling overwhelmed, don’t keep it inside. Talk to someone, whether it’s a friendu trust family member, or even just writing in a journal like I do ..Putting your feelings into words can make a huge difference. It clears your mind and helps you see things from a new perspective.

5. Make Time for Self-Care: It’s easy to forget to take care of yourself when everything is going wrong. But self-care isn’t just about face masks and bubble baths (although that helps!). It’s about doing things that recharge you—reading, listening to music, or even just doing nothing. Find what makes you feel lighter and make time for it.

Let’s Take the Pressure Off Ourselves.

I know the world often tells us we have to be constantly productive, constantly moving forward. But the truth is, you don’t have to hustle all the time. It’s okay to slow down, take a breather, and focus on your well-being. The world will still be there when you're ready to take the next step. You are not a machine pookie. You are human, and you deserve peace.We’re not alone in this, even though it sometimes feels like we are. Everyone’s going through something, and sometimes just knowing that you’re not alone in your struggles can make a huge difference.Remember, it’s okay to not have it all together. It’s okay to be tired, to feel burnt out, to not always know what’s next. Life is hard, but you’re still here, still fighting, and that’s something to be proud of. I'm so proud of you

© bloomzone

[harrysfluff]

Choices

A/n: Hello! Lol I am currently writing my applications for PhD programs and need a break. This was a draft I had and wanted to polish up for you guys. Btw i haven't written anything with angst or really a plot in a hot minute so I'm sorry for the plot.

Tw: smut (p in v, unprotected sex), angst (couple fighting)

Harry's forearms came on either side of your head as your bare bodies touched one another. Your hands snaked their way down his ass, grabbing at him in tight clenches. The bedsheets were crumpled together towards the foot of the bed leaving both of you exposed to the cold room. "I think we would make cute babies," Harry smiled down at you, pushing his hips deeper into you.

Harry had recently become obsessed with babies. He had brought it up to you a few months ago and hadn't stopped since. Harry never was doing things in order since some people would have at least waited for a ring. "I just know you my person and this is exactly what I want with you in this moment," he said each time. It slowly wore down on you, and as you started to come around to the idea. Suddenly, you were also imagining a small bundle that was a mix of both of you.

You could feel his hard self push against your clit, giving a light sensation from the bud. You let out a heavy exhale from the feeling, while your hands move upward to his back. "I think so, too. They would have your eyes." Harry buried his face into the crook of your neck, sucking against the skin gently. You threw your head back into your pillow, giving him more access. "And hopefully my sense of humor," you tease.

"Oi," Harry lifted his head back up, "What did I do? I'm just trying to make love to the woman I love." He defended.

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I just love to tease you. You get all worked up!" You brought his face down to yours to share a kiss. “It’s cute,” you shared before your lips collided. You opened your mouth slightly to allow his tongue to slip through. The kiss deepened as you engulfed each other. You brought your legs up providing the perfect angle for Harry. Usually, the two participated in more foreplay. However, the feeling of him against your clit had built up a hunger for him inside of you. Taking the cue, Harry slipped himself in.

The feeling of him inside of you always made you realize just how empty you felt when he wasn't. You pulled your lips away from each other as Harry slowly rolled his hips into you. The gentle waves of him caused a growing intensity in you.

Harry's brow furrowed, "I wanna savor this." He lowered his face down again for another passionate kiss. "God, I wanna be inside you forever. Do you want me to be inside of you forever?"

"Yes," you exhaled. "Please never leave me."

It came out as a whine which always sent Harry into overdrive. He pulled away from you. The emptiness makes you shiver. Harry's hands grabbed onto your knees, spreading them. You were completely exposed to him, glistening in the light as some of you leaked onto the sheets. Harry pushed himself in again, this time with more speed and power. "Fuck. I'm going to fill you up with my cum. Wanna have my baby, don't you?" He brought the pad of his thumb to your clit, rubbing firm circles. The movement sent pulses through your body as your breaths became more shallow.

"Yes, please fill my tummy with you," you begged. The feeling radiated from your pussy reaching higher intensity with each thrust from him. "I wanna have your baby so bad, H."

Every time Harry hears those words from you, a primal feeling erupts. "I'm about to fill you up," he grunted. His movements are becoming increasingly faster. "Fuck," he gasped, slamming his hips into yours. "Oh Harry," you screamed out as you released over him. Harry collapsed on top of you, still staying inside of you.

He stayed there for a moment, before lifting his upper body from you. His skin was sweaty and you could see the beads of sweat on his forehead. "You said you never wanted me to leave," he smirked, slowly rolling his hips into you. “I just wanna make you sure you’re extra pregnant,” he laughed.

You giggled too, still in your post orgasm bliss. “I think I’m plenty pregnant. We haven’t left this bed all weekend and I’m full of your cum,” you said pushing him off you. Harry settled on his side, his hand being placed on your stomach. He began to trace his finger gently, his eyes stayed concentrated on it. “You know it doesn’t happen immediately, right?” You say.

“I know but this is just so perfect you know? Like this moment. I don’t know I like imagining our baby. I would take them down the street to that coffee shop. And I could get a bike!” His eyes came up to yours, beaming with excitement. “You know I’ve been thinking of getting one since I’m always renting one. I don’t know I could get one and then get one of those baby attachments so we could ride around together.” His mind rambled on, imagining himself riding around with a little one. He settled onto his back and you nestled yourself into his side. Harry’s arm instinctively wrapped around you, pulling you close. “Either way it will be perfect. I’m winding down so I’ll have time and you’ll take off work -“

“Wait what?” You sat up, staring confused at him. You clutched the sheets around your chest, covering them from him.

“Yeah, I was thinking you could you know take some time off.”

“I didn’t know that. When were you gonna tell me you wanted me to quit?” You asked, starting to feel the heat in your face.

“Y/n I’m not asking you to quit I just think you should step back.” He defended. “I think it’s for the best if we can be there together in the beginning. And besides, it’s not like we need to worry about money.”

“But it’s not about money. It was never about that.” Your blood started to boil as you found your thoughts. “I’ve worked so hard for this between all my school and years at this company. I’m not gonna throw it all away because I have a family. I had this job before you and I’ll have it after you.” You hastily scooted off the bed and wrapped the sheets around you to hide your body from him.

“Y/n you’re not listening to me. I’m not asking you to quit. That’s not at all what I’m saying: I’m just saying we should both take a step back from work.” He pleaded in a gentle tone.

You walked right into your closet to grab some sweats. The last thing you wanted was for Harry to see your body. “Harry not everyone can just take time off,” you reply loudly before mumbling, “Not everyone is a fucking pop star.” You walk out to the bedroom to face him. “Besides why can’t you raise the kid? You have the time.”

Harry rubbed his face harshly. This is not how he envisioned the night ending. “You know what? Don’t take the time off. It’s fine I’ll raise the kid, it’s fine. I’m sorry I said you should back off. I didn’t think.” His tone was flat across each word as he spoke. He swung his legs to the edge of the bed, grabbing his underwear off the floor. His hands fiddled with the shorts, pulling them up his legs while his eyes stayed concentrated on the floor.

“Harry it’s not about that, I'm angry that you just assumed I would take time off,” you paused, trying to read his face. His brows were furrowed together and you could see he had clenched his jaw. "Like do you think that low of my job? Like are you just another out-of-touch celebrity? God the shit I put up with because of you. Listening to you complain about clothes and albums-"

His head snapped towards you, face hardened. "What the fuck? That was fucking mean Y/N and you know it." He stood up from the bed, grabbing his pillow and tucking it under his arm. "I'm gonna sleep in the guest room tonight. I need space right now."

You sighed, the guilt beginning to wash over you. Your face fell into your hands and you contemplated your next move. Following him downstairs would probably not solve anything, but going to bed angry at each other ate away at you. Your mind flashed Harry's face as he was storming out. He was angry and didn't want to even be near you. So much had changed in less than 15 minutes. Not wanting to antagonize him further, you crawled into bed almost engulfing yourself in the thick duvet.

The alarm on your phone went off as it did each morning. Having been use to Harry reaching over to you, you felt a pain in your chest when you were reminded of last night. Normally, he would have tried to pull your closer as you struggled out his grip to start your day. However, there was no struggle as you got out of bed.

You tried to slow your morning get ready as you were scared to go downstairs but yet it seemed to go over quickly. You planned to keep your head down heading out of the kitchen on the off chance he was there, and pick something up on the way to work. It was a solid plan till you got downstairs and saw no trace of him. You were grateful till you saw his car was gone in the garage. It was odd since Harry rarely drove in London and either walked or biked. You shrugged it off, not sure you could understand him right now.

Harry didn't message you all day. Each time your phone flashed a notification, you anxiously checked it wanting to see his name. You sent him a few messages admitting fault and wanting to reconcile yet there was no response. Now you were confused since Harry usually replied.

Turning your key into the door, you imagined him sitting on the couch. Perhaps he was waiting to see you in person to try and repair things. Yet, when you entered the home was undisturbed. There was no trace of him still. You wandered into the guest room and saw the bed messily disturbed. The pillow he had taken was still there. You walked over to it to hold it close to you. Inhaling, you smelled the comforting smell.

Just as you were setting down the pillow, you heard the door open and the sound of footsteps. Coming out of the room, you saw him pushing his shoes off. "Hey," you squeaked out. "I uh just wanted to say I was sorry last night. I should not have said that and I'm sorry." You gulped hard, your hands finding ways to fidget with each other. Harry's eyes came off the ground, peering back from you. They were still cold, and his lips were still in that hard-pressed line. "Harry please say something. I don't like it when you do the silent treatment to me." "I didn't want to say something I would regret," he said.

"Okay, that's fair but I'm sorry. I want to move past this, please." You came closer to him in an effort to reach out to him. However, as you came closer, he backed away from you.

"I'm not sure I'm quite as ready. You hurt me Y/n. Sometimes you're rude to me when we argue and last night crossed a line. I provide for us, for our family, and this is what I get? I understand you have a career but I do too and just because mine is different does not give you the right to belittle it." There was a pause as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Frankly, I don't know if I want to be with you right now. " Harry finally exhaled, regaining his composure. "Look I'm just here to grab some things. I need more than just a night in the guest bedroom." He pushed past you, walking up the stairs.

You stood there shocked and almost paralyzed. It wasn't until you heard him coming back down that you wiped the tears from your face. "Yeah, erm okay. I understand." You softly whimpered, wiping another tear. "I love you, okay? And I'm really sorry." You were struggling to find the words, burying your face in your hands.

Harry looked at you, his eyes softening at the sight. He would have wrapped his arms around you but felt his arms glued to the sides. There was a part of him that was reluctant to do so. "I'm sorry, too. I hope this isn't the end. I just need some time. That's all."

You nodded, wiping the tears more as you tried to compose yourself. "Yeah, I get it." You gave him a weak smile, watching him leave.

[theywantedplayer]

Master list

PromptList

AN-this is longer than what I usually do I hope yall fuck with it since I haven't been writing lots bc I got exams in 2 weeks fm

You started noticing Nico acting differently—not just on the ice but also when it was just the two of you at home. He always had a nurturing attitude, which his teammates liked to tease him about by calling him "Mother Nico." He was always a caring and intuitive guy, picking up around the apartment even though you knew he had a stressful schedule during the NHL season.

He handled it all well, balancing everything quite skillfully. You’d often hear stories from your friends who were dating other players on the team about how their boyfriends always prioritized hockey, but Nico wasn’t like that.

Then, around the winter months, things started to change. He seemed slower, quieter, and less talkative like a dark cloud constantly hung over him. The Devils weren’t performing as well in the standings as usual, and Nico took it personally as the captain. He acted like the team’s struggles were entirely his fault, carrying the weight of it on his shoulders.

Nico had always been your rock. He let you talk to him about anything that was bothering you, offering a listening ear and unwavering support. But as the winter months set in, you started to realize that the dynamic only seemed to go one way. You could sense something was troubling him, but he never opened up about it.

Little things began to slip. He forgot whose turn it was to make dinner, skipped doing the laundry, or left the dishes undone—things he’d always been on top of. At first, you didn’t mind picking up the extra load, understanding how stressful the season must have been for him. But as October came, you decided it was time to bring it up. You never expected his reaction.

"I’ve noticed you’ve been off, and I’m worried about you," you finally said, folding laundry on the dining room table. Your voice was calm but firm, wanting to make your concern seen.

"What makes you say that?" he replied, his gaze fixed on the TV.

Your eyes flickered between him and the screen. He was watching SportsCenter, listening to reporters make critical and unsupportive remarks about the Devils' performance. It was clear their words had struck a nerve

“Well, you haven’t been picking up around the house lately, and you’ve just been quieter. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” you said as you folded his t-shirts.

Truthfully, you didn’t mind picking up more around the house. You’d always told Nico he didn’t need to do as much as he did, but he always insisted. Still, as you tried to talk to him, it felt like walking on landmines. He was so quiet, and you were afraid he might explode at any moment.

“Seriously?” he said coldly, finally turning his head toward you.

“You know I don’t have a problem with you not doing housework. You just haven’t been yourself lately,” you said, trying to keep your tone gentle. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“If you don’t have a fucking problem with it, then why are you bringing it up?” he snapped, his tone ice-cold.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips. You could feel where this conversation was headed. Setting down the hoodie you’d been folding, you rested your hands on the table and turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable, and that familiar resting bitch face of his—the one that intimidated people who didn’t know him—made you hesitate for just a moment. You knew it wasn’t truly who Nico was, but even now, it unsettled you just a little. Seeing someone who was always the sweetest and more caring one in the room suddenly has the face of one who at first glance didn't seem like it was a shock, but you always knew your boyfriend and knew that wasn't true.

“Nico, I’m not trying to start anything,” you said softly. “I just know something’s wrong, and you won’t even fucking talk to me about it.” you regretted the swear as soon as it left your mouth knowing it seemed like a push to him.

“Because I don’t need to,” he stated flatly.

You sighed again, frustration and worry bubbling inside you. Nico was the guy who always told everyone else they could talk to him, but he never talked to anyone about his stuff even rarely at times with you.

“Well, I think you do,” you said, your voice firmer this time as you locked eyes with him. You weren’t trying to start a fight, but you couldn’t let this slide. “I think talking about it would really help. You’ve been so quick to anger lately, so quiet, and I’m worried about you. You can talk to me. Why do you feel like you can’t?”

You noticed the slight clench of his jaw before he responded. “I have a lot of shit going on. I’m sorry if I’m not picking up around the house anymore. Just leave it alone,” he said, his tone laced with annoyance. “Just leave me alone.”

With that, he turned his body and full attention back to the TV. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he turned up the volume at the same time. Whether it was intentional or not, it sent a clear message: he wasn’t continuing this conversation. And as much as you knew it needed to happen, you didn’t have the energy to force it either.

About a month later, near the end of November, you could tell things had only gotten worse. The Devils were in the middle of a six-game losing streak, and it was eating at Nico. The frustration came to a head after a particularly brutal loss—shut out by Vegas, 5–0.

The walk back to the car was painfully silent. The only words Nico said as he handed you the keys were, “You drive.”

You nodded wordlessly, slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the car. The drive home, which should’ve been 20 minutes, stretched to nearly 45 because of post-game traffic. Normally, after a tough game like this, Nico would vent to you—sharing ideas for new plays or strategies to motivate the team. But tonight, he sat in the passenger seat, staring blankly at the sea of brake lights in front of you.

At every red light, you glanced over at him, silently checking in. He didn’t say a word, but you could see the storm brewing in his mind. This wasn’t just a bad game or a bad week; it was months of mounting pressure. He wasn’t himself anymore, and you knew he was close to breaking.

When you finally pulled into the parking garage of your apartment building, you turned off the car and opened your door. “Come on, Nic, let’s just go to bed,” you said gently, stepping out.

You expected to hear the passenger door open, but instead, there was silence. Turning back, you saw him still sitting there, unmoving. His hand hadn’t even reached for the door handle. It was like he hadn’t even heard you.

You walked around to the passenger side and opened the door, crouching down slightly to meet his eye line. “Nico,” you said softly, your voice laced with concern. “Let’s go inside.”

You could see it—the weight of everything he’d been bottling up for months. The pressure, the expectations, the emotions he refused to show. He was on the verge of breaking, and you just wanted to help him before he shattered completely.

He was too prideful.

But still, you were met with silence. You reached out and softly grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap, giving it a gentle squeeze. You tried to pull him out of the car, but he pulled his hand back, holding yours tightly in both of his. He stared down at your hands, his thumbs brushing softly over your skin. You sat there, unsure of what to say, just trying to comfort him in the smallest way possible. In two years of dating, you’d only ever seen Nico shut down like this once before—after the Devils' playoff run in 2023.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “What the fuck is going on?”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you, to himself, or to no one at all. His voice wavered, trying to hide the emotion threatening to break through. It pained you—he’d seen you cry countless times, about everything from stress to happiness, but he still couldn’t bring himself to let you see him like this.

“I know it’s tough,” you said softly, squeezing his hand again.

“It’s more than just fucking tough,” he said, his voice rising with frustration. “We’ve been playing like shit, and there’s nothing I can do. The reporters are tearing us apart, and I have no idea how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix them. I don’t know what the fuck to do!”

His voice cracked, but he kept going, the dam finally breaking.

“In the locker room, on the ice—everyone looks at me like I have all the answers. Like I’m supposed to solve all our fucking problems. But I don’t. What kind of captain can’t even fix his team?”

“It’s not your job to fix your team,” you said plainly, your voice steady.

For the first time since the game, he looked up at you, and your heart broke at the sight. His big brown eyes glistened, tears pooling just at the edge, threatening to spill over.

“I’m the captain, Y/N,” he said, his voice shaking. “It is my job. It’s my responsibility to keep the team together, to make sure we don’t fall into shit like this.” His eyebrows knitted together in frustration, and he shook his head, as if rejecting your words outright.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” you said gently. “You’ve been doing that for years.”

“Pressure?” he scoffed bitterly. “If it’s not me putting it on, it’s everyone else.”

Your expression softened, and you brought your other hand up to run your fingers through his damp hair. “If you’re the one putting it on yourself, then you can also take it off,” you said quietly. “I’m right here, Nico. I’ve been telling you that since the day we met. If you’re feeling anything—everything—you can talk to me.”

He shook his head again, looking up at you with so much guilt it made your chest ache. “I can’t do that to you. You’ve got enough going on with school and exams. I can’t be one more thing.”

“That’s bullshit,” you said, sighing. “I love you. Nothing is more important to me than you. Keeping all this bottled up is only making it worse, Nico. You need to let it out. Talk to me.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes softened as you wiped away a single tear that slipped down his cheek.

“But I’m the captain. People are supposed to look up to me and lean on me. It’s my job to take care of everyone else,” he said weakly.

“Yeah, and it’s my job to take care of you,” you said firmly. “I knew what I was signing up for when we got together. Dating a pro athlete comes with challenges that most people don’t face, and I knew it’d be hard sometimes. But Nico, you make it so easy to love you. The only thing that makes this hard is that you don’t talk to me when you’re struggling. I want to be your rock, too. I want you to come to me, vent for hours if you need to, cry if you need to. I just want to help you.”

A shaky sigh escaped his lips, and his voice cracked as he said, “I feel like I have to hold it together all the time. Half the time, I’m not. If we’re losing, I feel like it’s my fault. If I can’t lead us to a win, what kind of captain does that make me?”

“You’re playing fucking hockey, Nico,” you said bluntly. “You’ve been doing this your whole life. You know what you’re doing, and you know what your team needs. But it’s not your job to fix everything. They’re grown men with their own shit going on. The best thing you can do is be there for them, support them. But you can’t carry the whole team on your back.”

A bitter laugh left his lips. “Everyone thinks we’re a shit team right now. We’re getting blown out almost every game.”

You smiled softly, glad to see the tension beginning to leave his shoulders as he let everything out. “Don’t you think Quinn felt like that, too?” you asked.

His brows furrowed in surprise at the mention of his friend's brother.

“He’s captain of the Canucks. They were a mess for years but look at them now. They’ve turned it around. People respect them because they fought through it. You will, too. You’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this. Why don't you try and talk to him about this, Quinn's a really helpful guy he's helping me so much, growing up he was the first person I'd go to"

Nico knew your history with the Hughes you guys grew up together and spent nights at the lake house together, even though Nico didn't know Quinn as well as he knew his energetic little brother, Jack,  he could tell from the few times that they've met that he was a great guy to go to for advice.  He honestly really liked Quinn,  one time during the summer during the off-season the Hughes family invited you and Nico to spend a couple weeks at the lake house with the original group. Being Cole, Trevor the Hughes brothers, and some other buddies from Michigan, Nico was a little nervous about going since he only really knew Jack, Luke and You but Quinn and Nico honestly gravitated towards each other and got along quite well, he introduced Nico to the rest of the group and everyone hit it off from there on.

and during one of those nights at the lake house he and the eldest brother were sitting out by the fire when everyone was inside they ended up having generally deep talk and confided in each other about being captains of a team at a very young age. At the time Nico barely knew Quinn this was really the first time he was actually able to sit down and fully get to know the young defenseman but still he talked to him knowing they shared the same worries and since then they've always kept in contact.

Everyone always loved it when New Jersey played Vancouver because they called it the "Hughe's Bowl" since the three brothers were playing on the same ice against each other for the first time in a long time. Nico always looked forward to that since usually after those games if Vancouver wasn't heading back that night Nico and the three brothers would go out and always get a beer together. 

 Nico could slightly feel his face heat up with embarrassment. not about opening up but about not doing it sooner.  he loved you and he knew you always wanted the best for him so he just felt stupid for not realizing that sooner and trusting someone with his problems but it wasn't just somebody it was you 

He was quiet for a moment, processing your words. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a deep laugh. You blinked in surprise at the sudden shift, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“What’s so funny?”

“I’m an idiot,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve been sitting on this for months, and after less than ten minutes of talking to you, I already feel better. No wonder you were pushing me to open up.”

You laughed with him, relief washing over you as he climbed out of the car and pulled you into a tight hug. He buried his face in your neck, his arms wrapping securely around you.

“Thank you,” he murmured into your skin, holding you close.

You hugged him just as tightly, feeling the warmth radiating from his body after the game. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Nico. And I need you to know you can always talk to me about anything.”

He pulled back slightly to look into your eyes, his own still glistening but now softer. He just saw you prove that too. him but he really needed to hear you say it. He kissed you gently, then rested his chin on your head, pressing a kiss to your hairline.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m fucking tired.”

[kurogane2512]

Been having urges to write some wuwa fics after the recent quests and events, here's a little bit on Yinlin based on this interaction from the latest illusive realm😩

18+ CONTENT

Game: Wuthering Waves

Characters: Yinlin x gn!reader with a dick (Rover)

Type: Smut

After solving the crisis of the Somnium Labyrinth near the Whining Aix's Mire, you were back inside to defeat the remaining Tacet Discords and stabilize the Illusive Realm. The companions trapped by the labyrinth promised to help you for saving them, and you met one of them on the way after the crisis was solved.

"The crisis is over. Why are you still hanging around?" It was Yinlin, she was on her way to leave with others when she spotted you talking with the white cat and decided to wait.

"You are also still here, Yinlin..." you replied, making Yinlin chuckle.

"I'm ready to get back. There's more dirt getting swept under the rug outside. But, there is still one thing that's nagging me...."

Yinlin started to ponder with her gaze lowered, staring into empty space.

"When I screwed up, you... had my back. I didn't expect that." she mumbled under her breath before glancing at you.

"Hm? Are you okay, Yinlin?"

Yinlin then shook her head with a sigh, "It's nothing, just dream talk. Who's to say what's real. I don't screw up in real life."

You were confused but gave a smile nonetheless, "That's true. You are the best at what you do."

Yinlin smirked, "So, what do you plan to do now?"

"The white cat said there's still some Tacet Discords roaming inside the Somnoire so I'll head back after a while."

"Hmm, quite a hard worker, aren't you?~"

"It's nothing. I like to help."

Yinlin then stepped closer to you and leaned near your face, a light blush appearing on your cheeks from the closeness.

"Well, as thanks for helping me, here's a little gift that'll help you in the battles ahead~"

She held your right hand and grazed her fingers over your tacet mark before grabbing your Pangu Terminal and transferring something to it.

"Will you do me a favor in return? Once you finish up here, save some time for me in the real world, darling~" she whispered in a seductive voice, making you blush more.

"A-Ahem, I will. What did you give me, thou—" you asked while examining your terminal but Yinlin had vanished into thin air.

You let out a sigh and decided to focus on the Somnoire again, going back inside and engaging in various battles until you were told it was stable. While the battles weren't hard, you had become exhausted due to the constant fighting in a single day and wanted to get back to rest now. But you remembered your promise to Yinlin and didn't want to disappoint her, hence you decided it was better to finish up your meeting with her first.

It was nightime by the time you were back in Jinzhou city and weren't sure where to find Yinlin at this moment. You figured she would likely be in the outskirts rather than the city so went near Loong's Gaze Suburbs to look for her. This made you realize you didn't know where she lived, or if she even stayed in one place considering her job as a Secret Agent. You'd probably find her camping out more than staying in a proper house.

As you were walking, you suddenly felt some thin strings wrap around your body and before you could react, you were pulled back and pinned to a tree with the strings binding you to the trunk. You winced for a moment and tried to free yourself until you saw some sparks flicker on the strings and knew well enough who it was.

"Hehe, how many times will you fall for the same tricks, Rover?~" Yinlin whispered in your ear from behind the tree before walking around it to stand in front of you.

"I guess I just have my guard down around you."

"Hmm.... You trust me that much? What if I misuse you some day?~"

"I don't believe you will. Otherwise, you have had plenty of chances by now."

Yinlin smirked and glanced at you from head to toe, finding it adorable how you were pinned immovable in front of her. She then looked at some cuts and tears on your skin and clothes, realizing it was from all the fighting you did.

"That's true. You have won my trust unlike anyone so far...." she extended her hand to cup your face and lightly brushed her thumb across the cut on your cheek.

"So, what did you want to meet me for? And are you going to release me from these anytime soon...?"

She smiled and slid her hand down to your chest, "I quite like you in this position. It enables me to do anything I want. Not to mention, you are strong enough to free yourself~"

You nervously chuckled, "What do you have in mind?"

She smirked again and slid her hand further down your stomach now before stopping at your belt, fiddling with the buckle.

"Let me thank you for saving me today. Properly."

Your eyes widened, "Y-You don't need to, Yinlin. You already gave me that Echo which helped a lot in the battles and—!"

Before you could complete, Yinlin dropped to her knees and quickly unfastened your belt followed by undoing your pants. Your erection strained in your underwear as Yinlin grasped it, palming it around.

"It's not just that. You also arise some other feelings in me, strange feelings that I have never had before. I didn't think I was capable of such emotions, but you showed me I'm more human than I realize."

She then freed your shaft from your underwear, the tip hitting her lips as it bounced out and stood at full mast. Yinlin licked her lips and wrapped her hand around the base then started pumping it.

"My, already so hard for me. Seems your body needs some relief after all the work today~"

"Y-Yinlin, you don't have to—"

"I want to. Unless you don't want this, I'll stop."

She looked up at you and waited for your answer. You pursed your lips and simply nodded your consent, making her smile in return. She swiped her tongue across your tip while pumping with her hand and using her other hand to caress your sac. You groaned and threw your head back as you felt her mouth wrap around the head, her tongue constantly swirling around it.

"Mhm, you.... are quite big.... as expected...." Yinlin spoke in muffled words as she tried to swallow your shaft completely.

"Y-Yinlin... aah... you can take it...s-slow.... don't hurt yourself— ngh!~"

You sighed as she bobbed her head back n forth, her tongue lubricating every bit of your length and her lips sucking on the tip. Her warm breath sent shivers through your body, and the feeling of her wet mouth felt amazing. She moaned around your length as she sucked, one hand pumping the base while the other grasped your thigh as she tried to take you deeper. You gazed down at her sucking your cock and your eyes met her hooded ones, feeling a seductive glint in them which made you harder.

Yinlin felt your cock grow even bigger somehow, but she was still determined to take you in completely. Pre-cum dripped from your tip now and her tongue lubricated your shaft sufficiently then with a single push, she swallowed you to the base. You moaned as you felt her throat around your length, your hips involuntarily bucking to feel more. Yinlin hummed and sucked your cock more before pulling back and releasing it to breathe, a smirk painting her lips as she caught her breath.

"Well, do you like it so far? I may have not done this before but I'm quite confident judging by your reactions~"

"Hah.... yes, it's good.... I can't believe it's your first tim— ohhhh fuck!~" you were taken by surprise as Yinlin suddenly swallowed your cock again without warning, this time bobbing her head even faster than before.

"F-Fuck, Yinlin....! Slow down!~"

"Mm...no.... You are adorable.... w-when you react this way~"

Yinlin wasted no time to suck you hard, her tongue swirling around the tip to gather up your pre-cum. You could feel yourself hitting the back of her throat everytime she moved, making you come closer to release as you struggled to hold on.

"Hmm.... cum whenever you want to.... give it all to me~"

How could you hold back when she said that? You wished your arms were free so you fuck her mouth more, but you'd save that for another day. You instead bucked your hips in sync with her bobbing, getting the feel of fucking her throat and she also seemed to like it.

"C-Cumming, Yinlin.... there's a lot— Aaaah!~"

She felt your tip throb and immediately hilted to the base, swallowing you whole as you finally released deep inside her mouth. Yinlin's eyes rolled back as your hot and thick cum filled up her throat, her tongue working to lick every drop and not waste anything. Some cum dripped down her lips as she finally pulled back once you stopped, her chest heaving as she swallowed all of your load.

"You taste good and there's so much quantity; were you so pent up, darling?~"

"Haah... no... y-your mouth was too good...."

Yinlin chuckled then stood up and was about to undo the strings when she noticed your cock was still hard, essentially raring to go for more.

"Oh my, and you have impressive stamina too. As expected of Jinzhou's savior, hehe~"

"S-Sorry, uh... I'll take care of it myself. Thank you for that...."

You looked away in embarrassment while Yinlin seemed to ponder something, her eyes narrowing while looking at your throbbing erection.

"I suppose we should continue. You wouldn't leave me unsatisfied, would you, darling?~"

"Huh?! O-Of course, I wouldn't but.... shouldn't we move somewhere else?"

"Hm? You didn't seem to mind that when I was sucking you, how come now?"

"Uh, I don't want anyone else to see you that way...."

Yinlin's eyes almost widened in surprise but she held back and maintained her poker face. She then smirked and leaned closer to your face, her lips ghosting yours.

"For your eyes only, is it? I suppose I can trust you with that~"

She came even closer and you felt her lips on your neck as she kissed there before making more kisses all over your jaw. Your cock was settled between her thighs and grinded along as she moved to kiss you.

"Ngh... Y-Yinlin.... please, release my arms...."

"What are you going to do if I release you?"

"I want to touch you.... to hold you and pleasure you."

"Hehe, aren't you romantic? You should save such words for your lover~"

"I have no time for that.... but what I'm saying is the truth."

Yinlin almost felt her heart sink at your words, it was surprising to even her that she'd feel so disappointed. She never really thought about having a serious relationship either, she knew her work was too uptight for such things. Perhaps, moments like this was all she could have. And she'd rather have them with you than anyone else. She smiled and suddenly pressed her body against yours, caging you between herself and the tree.

"You are quite sly, Rover. How come none of the other women you know did this before me?~"

You blushed and didn't know how to answer, earning a chuckle from Yinlin who then stepped back and waved her fingers to undo the strings from around you. You sighed in relief as your body was finally free and you could stretch your arms, but Yinlin acted quicker and pulled you closer by your collar while she stepped back until she was pinned against a tree.

"I have high expectations of you, darling~"

A cacaphony of moans and grunts resounded in the forest. You had slipped off Yinlin's panties and held her against the tree with one leg pulled up as your cock thrusted in and out of her cunt. Her arms wrapped around your neck and your eyes gazed into each other as you fucked her, your breaths mingling before Yinlin leaned near your ear and embraced you. Her sultry voice moaned in your ear now, her breath tickling your lobe and the feeling of her warm and tight walls made you aroused to no end.

"Aah! Yes, just like that....! Oh, go deeper!~"

"Yinlin...! You feel so good— fuck!"

"Hehe then do it harder and faster! Show me, Rover! Engrave yourself into me!~"

Her words fueled you further as you picked up her other leg too and slammed deeper, her head falling back in ecstasy. Her legs locked around your waist in a tight hold and her walls clenched you tighter than before, essentially milking you dry. You thrusted faster and harder, burying yourself to the hilt and fucking her deepest parts. As a Secret Agent, Yinlin never imagined herself to lose in such desires outdoors, but there was no way she could resist you any longer.

You eventually turned her over and bent her against the trunk, pulling her hips close to shove inside once again. She mewled as you penetrated her deeply, her voice crying out the sweetest moans as you fucked like an animal in heat. Your thighs slapped against her hips, making erotic sounds accompanied by her moans. Your hands groped her butt before snaking around to touch her clit, her back arching as she felt your finger around it.

"Aaah! R-Rover! Yes! Yes! More.... give me more! Oh, gods! Fuck me and fill me with your seed!~"

Yinlin was mindlessly chanting her desires now, and you had every intention to fulfill them. You pulled her up and made her lean on the trunk while you pressed yourself flush against her back and kept ramming in and out. She arched back and rested her head on your shoulder as you kissed her nape and shoulders before burying your face in her neck and breathing in her scent.

"Oooh just like that! That's it, darling! Yes! I'm so close! Cum with me, darling!~"

You pinched and rubbed her clit with your thrusts, drawing her closer to release as you also couldn't hold back anymore. With a few more thrusts and skin slapping, you shoved forward and hilted all the way inside her as you finally released. She moaned out loud feeling your cum inside, then went breathless as you made her orgasm too. She almost fell limp as she came but you continued holding her, still filling her up with your seed.

You breathed out together once you finished releasing, she turned over and pressed her lips on yours while embracing you tightly. It was a deep and passionate kiss, one that she'd only do with her lover if she had one. But she was more than happy and satisfied with you for now.

"Aah... more, let's do more, Rover...." Yinlin husked after the kiss, and the feeling of your dick rising once again gave her all the answer she needed.

[sulumuns-dootah]

Can I request a headcanon of wbh kings reacting to a gn mc who's a actress/actor and watching a horror killer movie mc played in (mc is the final person to die)

WHB kings w/ MC acting in horror movie

⟡ Masterlist ⟡

A/N: Hi! Sorry for the wait, Fall is always kinda rough on my mental health U.U

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

When you told Satan that you're in a horror movie, he was super excited

Certified horror movie enjoyer right there

Oh and when he found out you were on the poster of it?

Suddenly it's all over Gehenna and many screenings are scheduled in pretty much all the cinemas

Before, however, it is shown anywhere publicly, Satan wants to watch it with you alone

During the movie he'd joke that he's expecting your character to be one of the first ones to die since it's a rule that hot characters die first

But then he realizes there's only about 20 minutes of the movie left and your character is still alive

Maybe you're one of those final survivors who don't die?

Nope :)

Just as the final credits start to roll in, the killer jumpscares the audience by surprise lounging at your character and kills them as the credits roll list all the names of everyone who took part in the production

       ༺☆༻

Similar to Satan's reaction, but Mammon only has a screening in a handful of cinemas of his choosing

Obviously,as the star you are, the screening also has a meet and greet with you included

Bimet was the one to organise everything, so you can imagine how expensive the tickets are

Mammon will also want a private screening before letting anyone else watch it

And since for example Texas Chainsaw Massacre did it: If there's a scene with your ass all over the screen, Mammon will be obsessed and make it his personality for the next century :)

Now, getting back to the end of the movie and seeing your way too suden death, you sneak a peek at Mammon to see his reaction and he, to be fair, looks unmoved

But then you notice him being more clingy than usual

When you ask him about it, he'll give you, honestly, the best answer:

"Seeing you die made me realise I don't ever want to loose you in reality"

       ༺☆༻

Exact opposite

Nobody except for you and him are allowed to watch it

Now, Levi will be happy to tell everyone that his partner is an actor/actress in movies, but will never say which ones

What's it to them? They can't appreciate your presence on screen correctly

The next thing you know they'll be making fan edits and write fanfics about you and either the killer or some random self-insert instead of Leviathan - your ACTUAL partner

The movie will kinda become shadow banned in Hades bc the people will fear their king will find out they watched it and hang them to death for it

The only one to openly talk about it is Glasyalabolas bc of course

He's hoping he can catch some other demons while they pretend to not know what he's talking about despite secretly watching it

(Oof, I can even imagine: You know how are those videos like 'Top 5 movies you shouldn't watch'? Your movie will be every no.1 on those lists :D)

       ༺☆༻

When you told Beel about your new found stardom, he tried acting surprised but you both knew his act was bad

He knew even before you knew and accepted the offer from the casting director

And you could swear you think he was there during the shoot

Or at least you thought you saw him for a flash by the catering table, moments before someone started raising all hell because someone ate all the pizza again

So when you suggest a movie night with your movie, he already has some stuff prepared at some secret location

Maybe he might even send some pics of you cosying together to Bael just to piss him off

       ༺☆༻

Belphegor just to happened to be half-awake when you came excitedly running to his room

He had half the mind to just fall back asleep, but then you started talking about some movie you were in, so he decided to give you at least some of his time

"Oh, and you want me to watch it now or...?"

Sure, you can join him in bed and watch it with him, but he can't promise he'll stay awake the whole time

Maybe only until your character dies, because after that you won't mind, right?

Oh boy, did he not know...

To be fair, he does watch the whole movie until then, but might not be awake long enough for him to give a review of your performance

       ༺☆༻

"Oh, you're in a movie, my pretty little bitch? Sure, let's watch it."

You know where this leads to...

By the time the first kill happens you're already folded in half, taking Asmo in and screaming louder than the poor victim in the movie

But Asmo actually is interested in your character, so whenever you're on screen, he slows down and shushes you so that he can hear the other you

By the time your character dies, you've already cume multiple times and are about ready to pass out just like in the movie

After the movie's over, Asmo will actually give you a good review and ideas on what to work on (including your stamina ;))

       ༺☆༻

You didn't even get to be the one to tell Lucifer

Of course Gamigin had to accidentally let it slip while begging Lucifer to partake with the rest of demons in a movie night

You wanted to surprise Luci by putting the movie on and seeing if him or any other demon catches on to recognise the bad-ass final girl/guy as you

After that Luci hears you scolding Gamigin for the slip up so he decides to act like he didn't know you'll be in the movie

He's not really convincing, but it's the thought that counts, right?

After the movie's finished, you anxiously ask everyone for the opinion

Everyone has nice things to say, except for the SFX team and the many inaccuracies they noticed

But... Luci is silent

At least until everyone's gone to bed for the night

After that he'll have you sit on his lap and whisper so much praise into your ear

[toto-the-cactus]

Primarch + Daughters (2)

Finally finished the damn part two. Been kinda busy here and there with my new job but lo and behold, the one yall asked for. Soon enough, yall find out why it took me a while writing this one for the two main guys I had to add here.

Part 1 - Part 2

Konrad Curze

A’right, I’ll open this one with the fact we all know that this man shouldn’t even be legally allowed to have children. I’m gonna be real for a hot second and admit that I stared at the screen for HOURS not knowing what to write because any poor little girl that is born from this guy will have the dubious privilege of being the most sheltered and hidden secret the Primarch ever kept close. With all those visions of death and inevitable doom mixed with the sudden power rush that fatherhood gave him, it left in its wake a perfect storm for this lunatic to develop a paranoid and obsessive need (NEED) to keep his daughter safe; something hard to achieve when he already knows the essence of his Legion. His fatalistic nature regarding his own future would suddenly clash violently with the Primarch’s new found protective stance concerning his child. It's almost sad to consider that this poor man GENUINELY wished to avoid becoming the monster his visions showed, but knowing that he’ll be balancing in the thin line of one day hurting his precious girl (or worse than that) it'll put him in the hard decision of having to let go of her eventually. He is no Perturabo, for that matter. In the rare and far away moments of lucidity, I can see Konrad choosing to protect the innocence and life of his child by trusting in the last person ANYONE might expect the Night Hunter would seek help: Vulkan. Honestly this is just plain sad, man.

Sanguinius

This is it! The golden boy, yall! We all know the kind of person Sanguinius is, but add a precious little daughter in the equation and all you get is the perfect example of textbook girl dad. No matter how busy this man is, somehow he’ll squish some playtime with his baby and enjoy every bit of it. Seriously, this guy acting like a dedicated father is worth being in a stockphoto image. His baby girl asks him to play tea party? Some astartes will find their Primarch hunched over, awkwardly holding a comically small cup between his thumb and index while his precious princess pretends to pour more tea for herself. The daughter of Sanguinius doesn't go a single day without knowing that her papa loves her a lot and when the man isn’t around, the Blood Angels Legion are close to keep her company to the point that even she calls them ‘big brothers’. No one is safe when she wants to play dress-up. The single problem I see with Sanguinius when raising his little girl is that he sins of being completely oblivious to the more mortal side of his daughter’s needs. He easily gets so wrapped up in his role of The Perfect Angel that he doesn’t realize his tiny princess has boundaries that are being constantly crossed, but since she feels the need to prove that she can be like her father, endures all those problems and refuses to seek help about anything. It becomes a kind of toxic mix considering how much Sanguinius is loved and adored by others, to the point that his daughter becomes like a coveted gem too by relation, making her need to prove her own ‘perfection’ an unconscious action the older she grows. I’m not even gonna touch with a ten feet pole the “fun fact” called the Red Thirst on this one because, let's be fair, that would require for me to write more than 3 pages with ONLY Sanguinius and his daughter in the spotlight and that’s only assuming his baby girl didn’t inherit it. I specialized in visual arts and marketing, not psychology jfc.

Ferrus Manus

It took me a while but after some investigating and more reading I can safely put this man in between the Papa-tier and ‘tough love’ guys. His practical mentality and belief of the strongest are (oddly enough) healthily separated from his parenting skills. This is one of the few Primarch that can see their daughter as an individual of their own and makes sure to be as present as possible in her life but the loyalty of this man to the Emperor is his own flaw. Not in the case that he’ll choose the Imperium before his little girl, but because it’ll put him in the dreading and guilty notion that he’ll always prioritize his daughter despite his oath to serve for the Great Crusade. Most of his brothers (except maybe Jaghatai and Konrad) just assume or don’t even think about the long term future of their daughters or simply presume that they will become a great part of the Imperium’s well oiled structure. Not exactly their fault since they never grew up with anything resembling normal. On the brighter and wholesome side (whiplash change!), this is a man who finds handmade gifts more meaningful and always makes sure to explain the reason behind them mostly out of the enjoyment of watching his little princess look so amazed at her papa’s skills. More often than not, Ferrus’ belief of the strongest would falter a little as he perceives the true fragile nature of his daughter and, even if she share the resilient blood of a Primarch, that isn’t enough to convince him that she isn’t vulnerable but instead of letting the worry fester, he’ll try to teach the girl the art of fighting. That’s where the ‘tough love’ kind of guy I mentioned comes out to light. He will not spare kind words during those moments of teaching, as he wishes for his princess to prevail any difficulty but he’ll make sure to always end any sort of training with “I love you so much that the idea of one day not being there to protect you, pains me beyond any form” to make sure that his harsh actions have a reason behind. Honestly, it's the kind of father-daughter relationship that possesses so many shades that makes its own drama novel. Good thing that uncle Fulgrim is always there to smooth the hard edges that may come in the future and makes up for the lack of spoiling the little girl deserves. Ferrus is not amused by it. Forgot to mention that the Primarch will be even more motivated to take off the metal of his hands, for he has yet to truly feel the warm and soft flesh of his baby’s hand. It's the one feeling he keeps missing and craves so much.

Angron

Oh man, another of the hard ones. Okay, if I managed with Konrad, I can tackle this bitch too. You need to comprehend that we are talking about a guy that has been so intimate with the meaning of pain that it's amazing he’ll be capable of ranging through other emotions that don’t involve fury into that combo too. That being said, this whole shitshow of being the father of a young girl can only be described as sad AND tragic. First off, Angron’s daughter wouldn’t even be allowed to leave her chambers at The Conqueror for obvious safety reasons and having her stay on Terra can’t be an option too, as Angron would rather be death than leave in a silver plate this one single pittance of good he helped to create under the light of the Emperor. That being said, any little girl born from Angron would be terribly isolated and one can’t even blame the Primarch for that as he, despite his disposition, finds his daughter as a genuine reflection of what he could never ever dream to have or be. That sometimes results in him feeling short and spontaneous moments of anger from the impotence of not being able to be close to his daughter, let alone console her with anything resembling compassion. This is a man that is horribly aware that he’s away from one sharp stab of the Nails to his brain to end up killing his little girl in one single swat of his hand. The moments of anything resembling fatherly love are few and very tense, for Angron has to constantly be focused on not letting the pain control his actions and that always looks as if he’s dismissing his child’s love language or actions. What else can I say that most people don’t know already? This is just a sad story waiting to end in tragedy and had it not been for how Sanguinius ended during the heresy, I can see The Great Angel taking Angron’s daughter under his care as the only consolation and promise to his corrupted brother before his demise. After becoming a Daemon Prince, Angron’s only genuine and foggy memory of his little girl is her crying while calling him with heavy despair. Goddamn I almost tear up with this one.

Roboute Guilliman

Look at my big nerd! One of the few guys that actually is humble enough to feel more human than any of his brothers… sometimes. I gotta say it, Roboute has the vibe of what happens when someone incredibly autistic suddenly becomes a parent; expect lots of books to try and be prepared for what entails to take care of a mortal baby. He’ll have a wholeass strict routine of activities and diets that you AND the baby must follow to ensure both of your health along with “fun facts” regarding a toddler’s development that half of the time lack the keyword ‘fun’ in there. Honestly, Euten will be a BLESSING sent, for she’ll be the one railing back the most extreme attempts of her adoptive son to try and raise his little princess like she was just another task of paperwork. Over all his quirks, the Primarch of the Ultramarines is absolutely trying his hardest to be a good father just as the one that raised him, but this is a man that half of the time ends up clumsily trying to spend time with his little girl only for it to backfire as he simply doesn’t understand how to entertain his daughter. Good thing the child will simply be happy to spend time with her papa despite his weird personality. More often than not, some of the astartes will see the young lady at her father’s chambers in a little booster chair beside him, doodling on some papers to pretend that she’s a big girl helping her papa with his very important job. It's probably the most adorable sight anyone can ever get the chance to see. Just like most of his brothers, Roboute isn’t that good at expressing his love towards his daughter with words, so he simply let his little princess be on his lap and hug her as if it will be the last time.

Mortarion

I’ve written enough of this man being a father that you all can get a wild idea of how he will be when confronted with parenthood. Even if he believes himself to be undeserving of anything resembling happiness thanks to his perception of being nothing but a tool of the Emperor, this guy will only need to see his precious little flower and feel like everything in the world can be forgotten, including his ever festering negative emotions. His daughter is the single light of love that he selfilish believes is his right after such torturous upbringing although that mentality rarely affects his princess, as he simply shows nothing but care and tenderness towards her. He may be a nervous trainwreck, fully aware that his Legion and himself aren’t exactly safe-hazardous, but that never has stopped him from doing his utmost best to protect the little girl from anything that may hurt her. Like most of his traitorous brothers, Mortarion would not hesitate to bring entire worlds into devastation if it meant that his family can be safe, even if that’ll end up making a terrible gap to grow between him and those he loves. It's quite terrible and sad to know that, unlike Fulgrim or Angron, Mortarion was the closest to his daughter and showered her with as much genuine love as he could in an attempt to avoid being anything like his supposed father (adopted or creator equally), so when he turned into a Daemon Prince, the festering and rotting resentment that consumes him sometimes simmers down when he remembers the laugh of joy his little princess often released when he would carry her up in his arms. Oh yes, some good ol’ gut-wrenching emotional damage, teehee.

I will not apologize for being a mean bitch by writing sad shit. XOXO

[certainempatheticturkeymuffin]

Saw a post about Mushang and it's similarities to Liushen, then thought about how interesting it would be to have those in the same fic — then I went down a rabbit hole that included Mobing and Gongzhi (for some reason?)

so... here's this plotbunny, it's really fucking long though, sorry!

(oops, it posted before I finished, sorry about that, it's fixed now!)

-

Shang Qinghua knew, theoretically, that his death would be at the hands of Mobei-jun. He knew that when he saved him, he knew that all these years of serving him, but... it's finally sunk in. That Mobei-jun is going to kill him. That the bruises and frostbite and broken bones are all leading up to his death. He wraps another cut and thinks, somewhat deliriously... that maybe he should've killed Mobei-jun on that mission.

Shen Qingqiu knew his fate — the fate of the Scum Villain. He knew that any goodwill he'd built up was destroyed the moment he pushed Luo Binghe into the Abyss. Knows that all those years of treating him well, only to betray him, may have actually made the situation worse. He thinks back on that day, suddenly realizing that he probably could've made it look like an accident — he could've had Binghe "accidentally" pushed into the Abyss during the chaos, could've faked a Without-A-Cure flare up to excuse his lack of rescue. Maybe, if he'd done that, Binghe would've had mercy.

Their weekly meetings become stilted, their tea goes cold, their snacks uneaten. They don't argue about Airplane's terrible writing, they don't even reminisce over AC or the internet. The air is filled with unease, polluting each of their peaks... until they both snap. They confide in each other, cursing the System, cursing their choices, and try to plan — to dig themselves out of these holes they've dug. The clock is ticking for Binghe's return. Shang Qinghua's wounds are getting worse — he doesn't know if his death will be expedited or delayed at this rate.

And so, they argue and plan and eventually come to a few conclusions...

Shang Qinghua needs the protection of the sect. Needs to confess and beg for Yue Qingyuan's protection as he abandons Mobei-jun. Needs the protection of someone Mobei-jun had no chance of defeating.

Shen Qingqiu, likewise, needs protection — but it's written that Luo Binghe cannot lose, not to anyone in the sect... no one, except for Liu Qingge, who didn't live long enough to fight him, who didn't have a single canonical fight for the world to measure him against. The War God. The one person that wasn't bound by the narrative.

They decide to deal with Shang Qinghua first — Binghe isn't scheduled to leave the Abyss for years, after all. Mobei-jun, however, is a current threat. Every meeting leaves Shang Qinghua with more and more injuries, injuries that the original goods never had to deal with. They don't know if this Mobei-jun is going to follow PIDW's timeline. They don't know how long it'll take before he beats Shang Qinghua to a bloody pulp. After some arguing, it's agreed to come clean to Mu Qingfang first — to test the waters. He's been treating all of Shang Qinghua's wounds since they were disciples, and he'd be good back up if Yue Qingyuan didn't immediately cave to Shen Qingqiu's demands. Of course, Shang Qinghua wouldn't tell the complete truth — no one needed to know that Shang Qinghua spared Mobei-jun because he was hot — but he wouldn't alter the story too much. Better to keep to small lies, easy to keep consistent.

If it goes poorly... they'll just run. They'll abandon the friends and family they've found here, and they'll use whatever plot devices they can find to disguise themselves. The only reason it's not Plan A is because Mobei-jun knows Shang Qinghua's qi signature, and the only artifacts they know that can change qi signatures are... annoying to acquire and dangerous to use.

-

Mu Qingfang isn't surprised when Shang-shixiong shows up with various injuries, absolutely covered in demonic qi. It's routine at this point to sit him down, perform a check up, and ask questions he knows won't be answered. So he does. He heals the cuts and bruises, sets and heals the bones, and does his best to calm the eternally-stressed qi lest his shixiong have a deviation. He asks how this happened, expecting the usual evasive answer (hating that his shixiong is being abused while he does nothing but fix the aftermath), and...

and Shang Qinghua answers.

His shixiong, after years– decades of asking, stutters out an explanation. That he's been a spy for Mobei-jun since that mission where he was the only survivor. That he did it because he was scared, that by the time he was powerful enough to do anything about it, Mobei-jun was a king, and it would probably start a war if he killed him. He says Mobei-jun's been hurting him more often, that he's terrified he's going to die, and Mu Qingfang carefully soothes his shixiong's qi as tears start to fall and he stutters out his plan to team up with Shen-shixiong to tell Zhangmen-shixiong, to beg for forgiveness — for protection, even if it means sitting in a prison cell. He just doesn't want to die.

And in the face of his sobbing shixiong, constantly over-worked and terrified, Mu Qingfang promises to help. Because what else can he do? Turn his back on the shixiong he's been watching slowly fall apart over the decades? The shixiong he's watched go from introverted to downright anxious — the shixiong he's had to pick up and put back together with increasing frequency. Even if he hadn't come clean, Mu Qingfang would've had to have done something soon, with the way the injuries were increasing in severity. He's just glad Shang-shixiong told him first, so they could approach the sect leader together. It wouldn't have been good for his shixiong's stress levels if he'd demanded the sect leader interrogate him to figure out what was going on.

So, the two meet up with Shen Qingqiu and demand a meeting with Yue Qingyuan, who, as always, immediately makes time for Shen-shixiong. Shang Qinghua stutters through his story again, Mu Qingfang regulating his qi, and Shen Qingqiu bringing out a particular icy glare whenever Yue Qingyuan looks like he's going to interrupt. Zhangmen-shixiong's face is carefully blank by the time Shang Qinghua finishes speaking, at which point, Mu Qingfang decides to speak up.

He tells Zhangmen-shixiong of the countless injuries over the decades, of his certainty of their demonic origin, even during that first meeting. He tells the sect leader that if Shang Qinghua is going to be punished for protecting himself, for preventing a war, then he'll need to punish Mu Qingfang too. As a head disciple, he should've reported any suspicious injuries to his shizun, as a Peak Lord, he should've immediately informed Zhangmen-shixiong of Shang Qinghua's continuous injuries and of their suspiciously demonic origin. He says that he has even less of an excuse than Shang Qinghua, who was genuinely afraid for his life and the well-being of his sect. Mu Qingfang simply didn't want to make the situation worse for him, ignoring all rules and expectations that would've had the situation cleared up sooner.

Shen Qingqiu, clearly approving of Mu Qingfang's ardent defense, decides to continue, stating that the sect hasn't experienced an increase in failed missions or other sabotage. He explains that, clearly, Shang Qinghua had been doing his best to protect the sect, even under such strenuous circumstances. He sees no reason to be harsh towards someone who'd been a child when it started, and who was so thoroughly terrified that he only approached Shen Qingqiu, as a friend, because he could see he'd end up dead sooner or later due to the beatings.

Yue Qingyuan lets them all say their piece, and sighs. He sees Shang Qinghua's terror, and he understands both Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu's arguments. He says that this was a breach of trust, that ordinarily this would call for execution, but... Shang Qinghua has not caused harm to the sect, and had he continued, the only harm would've been to himself. As long as Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are willing to bear the consequences, Yue Qingyuan will allow this to be swept under the rug, never spoken of again.

Mu Qingfang and Shen Qingqiu are quick to agree, and Shang Qinghua's punishment is to update the sect's defense arrays... left unsaid was the expectation that Mobei-jun never be able to enter the sect again. And so, the matter is dealt with, and Shang-shixiong looks like he's had the weight of the world lifted off him once the arrays are complete.

So long as he doesn't leave the sect without a qi-cloaking artifact (courtesy of the Artifact Peak), he'll be safe. Mu Qingfang feels... thrilled, to know his shixiong won't have to suffer anymore.

-

Liu Qingge notices Shen Qingqiu's nerves as he cleanses his meridians. It's an unexpected change of pace, given the dour mood the man's been in for... months, at this point. The session finishes in silence, but there's an air of anticipation that has Liu Qingge... loitering, just a bit.

Eventually, Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh, pours him tea, and starts to talk — quietly, as if ashamed of his words. He shares that, during the chaos at the end of the Immortal Alliance Concerence, his prized disciple broke a seal. It had been placed on him at birth, presumably by one of his parents, and revealed him to be a heavenly demon. He explains that he panicked at the sight of the seal, understanding what it meant, but his disciple looked just as shocked as him. He understood that his disciple was a demon, that he clearly didn't know that fact, and given the presence of multiple sects and the ongoing catastrophe... his disciple would die, if anyone else stumbled upon him.

Liu Qingge listens, as Shen Qingqiu shares that he pushed his own disciple into the Endless Abyss. His grief makes more sense now, Liu Qingge thinks. It's not just the grief of a teacher losing their favorite student, it's also the guilt of pushing that student into danger, even if it's to protect them. Even he would've hesitated to cut down the disciple, if he'd formed such a bond and the child clearly had no idea what was going on.

They continue sitting in silence, and Liu Qingge is almost ready to leave, before Shen Qingqiu speaks up again. He explains that Luo Binghe was a heavenly demon, and the last one — presumably his father — required the collaboration of multiple sects to seal away. There's a chance that Luo Binghe will survive the Abyss, and escape it.

There's a muted fear in Shen Qingqiu's eyes, as he states there's a chance Luo Binghe will hunt him down. That, given a demon's propensity for overreactions, he may take the entire sect with him. It wasn't like he explained his reasoning, when he pushed the child into the Abyss. All he'd know is that his caring shizun saw he was a demon and immediately pushed him into hell.

And Liu Qingge can understand that fear. Heavenly Demons were strong, too strong for even him to be confident in facing them alone. Even if this one was a child, if it managed to escape the Abyss... it would be too strong for Shen Qingqiu to survive. There's an obvious solution then: train until Shen Qingqiu is strong enough to at least run away.

He says that they'll go on hunts together, so Shen Qingqiu can fight those beasts he knows so much about, to get in practice as they look for any artifact that might help him. He says they'll spar, and he'll even let him face the Bai Zhan disciples for variety. Shen Qingqiu is... reluctant, but quickly realizes that it's probably his best option. With the condition that they return to the sect at least once a month to check on his disciples, he agrees to Liu Qingge's proposal.

They'll both train, and Liu Qingge won't let him out of sight for even a moment — not with a heavenly demon after his head.

-

The months afterwards are... peaceful.

An Ding grows used to the sight of Mu Qingfang, who arrives just before dawn every morning to share breakfast with Shang Qinghua before they must start work. They do each other's hair and gossip, sharing whatever happened the day before as they get ready. Without the constant fear, and with Mu Qingfang's help taming his curls (as the only other one in the sect with curly hair), the sect slowly comes to realize that Shang Qinghua is a total knockout, actually, it was just hidden behind frizzy hair, eyebags, and his constant terrified hunching.

There are still bad days, of course, where Mu Qingfang has to insist he delegate his work to his head disciple, or where Shang Qinghua ends up on Qian Cao in the middle of the night having a panic attack, but... they're growing rarer as time passes. Qian Cao learns to turn their heads when Shang Qinghua arrives with an early shipment or unexpected, expensive goods. They learn to mind their business when they see him comfort their Shizun after a particularly challenging day.

It doesn't really surprise anyone when they start courting. The only surprise is that Shang Qinghua is the one that started it, but even that is less shocking now than it would've been the year before. An Ding is happy that their shifu finally looks safe and healthy (he actually stops working at a reasonable hour now, even if it is still after sunset), and Qian Cao is glad their shizun has someone of his own to vent to (given the stress of his job and the various struggles that come with it).

As for Qing Jing, they're absolutely thrilled that their shizun isn't moping anymore. The loss of Binghe hit them hard too, but seeing Shen Qingqiu make the effort to go on hunts made it easier for them to move on too. They miss him, when he's gone, but he always returns with treats from various villages, and a week's worth of stories and lessons to impart. He's even compiled his own bestiary! Ning Yingying has taken to giving Liu Qingge sweets as a thank you for helping her shizun, and Ming Fan grows more comfortable in his old role as head disciple, with how his shizun actually sees him and compliments him, rather than missing Binghe. The Bamboo House is still... a very hard place to be. Without Shizun, it's empty, and even with his recovery, the vacant room seems to bring back his grief.

Seeing this, Qing Jing is both relieved and absolutely pissed when Liu Qingge offers up his spare room instead. Shen Qingqiu accepts, and it's become common for him to join the Bai Zhan disciples in their morning exercises before returning to teach on Qing Jing. They are, understandably, absolutely pumped to have another Peak Lord around to fight (on top of their own being around more often! Shifu teaches them more! And is he getting better at it? What miracles!)

They settle into a routine, and, though it takes an unexpectedly long time, they announce their courting to Yue Qingyuan, who looks both heartbroken and extremely happy for them. Qing Jing gives Liu Qingge a surprisingly scary shovel talk (though he's mostly amused, he respects their dedication), but are overall very happy that their shizun is happy. Bai Zhan is just cheering that another Peak Lord has basically taken up permanent residence, since Shen Qingqiu stays in Liu Qingge's house rather than the bamboo house. They enjoy the unique challenge he gives, and some of the braver ones tell their shifu that he better treat him right or they'll try to take him for themselves (he went particularly hard on them after that, but they had zero regrets — Shen-shibo is a catch after all!)

Meanwhile, Mobei-jun is... frustrated and heartbroken. He can no longer enter Cang Qiong Sect, and he can no longer find Shang Qinghua's qi signature. He doesn't know why — was Shang Qinghua caught? Is he dead? Why else would he just... randomly leave? He's stuck with Mobei-jun for decades, why would he leave now? What was the catalyst? Was he truly so uncomfortable with Mobei-jun's courting? Why wouldn't he just say so!?

The questions leave him angry and frustrated, with no way to get answers. It's only after he enters Luo Binghe's service (an embarrassing loss — would he have done better with Qinghua's advice?) that he finally gets... something of an answer. A potential explanation.

Luo Binghe has no friends in the demon realm, trusts absolutely no one, but he's still a kind person. When he sees that Mobei-jun is frustrated, all it takes is that curly haired boy (a face so similar to Qinghua's) asking for all the questions to come spilling out. Whether it takes hours or minutes, Mobei-jun doesn't know, all he remembers is the lesson from that conversation:

Humans court differently. Constant physical bombardment is known as abuse.

And Mobei-jun is sick.

He hurt Qinghua. He drove away the one man that stuck with him through everything, just because he couldn't be bothered to double check that his courting would be understood. According to Luo Binghe... it was a miracle Shang Qinghua hadn't left sooner. And the worst part? Mobei-jun can't right this wrong. He can't explain himself. Because Cang Qiong has new wards, and Shang Qinghua has figured out how to make himself thoroughly disappear, even though Mobei-jun does receive word when the Peak Lord is spotted during a trade deal. He can't get Qinghua back. There's nothing he can do.

So he stays by Luo Binghe's side. His curly hair, his similar face... these days, Mobei-jun curses himself for not digging into Shang Qinghua's history. For this boy is an orphan, a street rat, and now it would be near impossible to find out his true relation to Shang Qinghua, given that no one knew which humans Tianlang-jun had bed. It doesn't truly matter, whether he is a cousin, brother, or nephew, Mobei-jun will right his wrongs through Shang Qinghua's kin, unable to reach the man himself.

-

When Luo Binghe leaves the Demon Realm, he goes to Huan Hua, and things progress pretty much as they did in canon, with Shen Qingqiu running, absolutely fucking terrified, being force fed blood, and agreeing to be held in the Water Prison to avoid blowback on the sect. Only difference is that Liu Qingge tried to kill LBH, which almost caused an incident with Huan Hua, because no one believed he was a demon. In the water prison, Luo Binghe sees... a ring. He knows his shizun never wore that before, so he asks about it. Not wanting to put Liu Qingge in even more danger, Shen Qingqiu stays silent.

Gongyi Xiao helps Shen Qingqiu escape, and things continue to progress. When Liu Qingge squares up to fight Luo Binghe, he notices him wearing a ring, threaded onto a necklace, and so similar to Shen Qingqiu's. It doesn't take him long to process the fact that his beloved shizun is... already taken.

By Liu fucking Qingge.

He's thoroughly pissed off, he goes to attack, but pauses when he sees his shizun grip Liu-shishu tightly, shaking like a leaf. He looks like he's preparing to take his husband and run. The thought is... off-putting. Because Liu Qingge is the War God of Bai Zhan Peak. Why doesn't Shizun have faith in the man he married?

So he asks.

And Shen Qingqiu doesn't answer.

Liu Qingge still hasn't relaxed, ready to attack at any moment, and Luo Binghe is running out of patience.

"If Shizun finds this demon despicable enough to throw into the Abyss, he should let his husband kill it."

"That's not why he did it."

Liu Qingge's words throw him off balance. He expected the man to be shocked, hearing that his loving husband had done such a thing (maybe cause a rift in their relationship), he expected, maybe, to be attacked for being so disrespectful.

Liu Qingge then explains, because Shen Qingqiu is terrified into silence.

And Luo Binghe is crushed. Shizun threw him into the Abyss... to save him? Shizun was scared for his safety?

And suddenly Luo Binghe feels sick, when he remembers what he's done. How he hurt Shizun, who was too scared to answer. Who just wanted to protect him, only to realize later that he wasn't thinking straight — that his words were twisted in his effort to get Luo Binghe into the safest place possible in that moment: the Endless Abyss. The shizun that believed in his capabilities enough to be afraid that he'd come seeking revenge.

The fight drains out of him, Liu Qingge doesn't relax, but Shen Qingqiu behind him looks just the slightest bit more curious than terrified. Luo Binghe pulls out a note, written from Mobei-jun to Shang Qinghua, and drops it onto the roof. "This disciple apologizes to Shizun. Please ensure this message gets to Shang-shishu." He uses Xin Mo to teleport to a different roof, staying just long enough to see Liu Qingge hand the note to Shen Qingqiu, who collapsed bonelessly into his side.

He goes to the Northern Desert, rather than the Southern Kingdom. He arrives in the sitting area of Mobei-jun's quarters, and plops himself into a seat. He thinks, and thinks, and he's feeling absolutely awful by the time Mobei-jun arrives. He takes one look at Luo Binghe's disheveled state, and takes the seat next to him.

They talk.

Mobei-jun is a surprisingly comforting presence. He'd always listened and offered advice, but Luo Binghe didn't think he'd have the patience for talking him through... whatever the hell this is. Heartbreak? He isn't sure.

It helps though, and Luo Binghe feels much lighter. Mobei-jun had already promised to never darken Cang Qiong's doorstep, to never go anywhere near Shang Qinghua again, after what he'd done... Luo Binghe would just have to do the same. Even if all he wanted was to go back to Qing Jing, to his room in the Bamboo House... but Shizun is married now, there's no way he'd allow Luo Binghe to stay there permanently.

So he just... stays in the Demon Realm. He's an emperor now, surely Shizun wouldn't want him neglecting that duty? And even if he would've liked Shizun's advice... Mobei-jun would have to do. He had experience, and he's been nothing but helpful. Decision made, Luo Binghe embraces his status as the Demon Emperor, and gives it his full attention.

Without him, Shen Qingqiu's trial falls apart, even as the Palace Master accuses Liu Qingge of killing Luo Binghe. There's not enough concrete evidence for Shen Qingqiu's crimes, and the character defenses from the sect and his husband all speak louder than Qiu Haitang's slander. Even if Liu Qingge was in extremely hot water with Huan Hua, they couldn't prove he'd done anything either.

Shen Qingqiu delivers Mobei-jun's note to Mu Qingfang, asking him to be there when Shang Qinghua read it, because who knew what was in it. He agrees, and they read it as soon as possible, to get it over with.

It's an apology, with an explanation of their different cultures and a promise to never bother him again. It's a promise to right his wrongs through Luo Binghe, who he assumes to be related to Shang Qinghua through the boy's mother. It's short and blunt, and Shang Qinghua is... conflicted. He loves Mu Qingfang, and honestly, couldn't even dream of a life without him, but... Mobei-jun was his dream man. Thinking like that... perhaps it was for the best that they didn't end up together. The reality could never live up to the expectation.

More importantly, is him remembering his half-sister in this life: Xi-jie. Who had suddenly cut contact with him completely, and who he'd never managed to track down afterwards, not having known her full name. Shang Qinghua is crushed, to realize the protagonist was that close to being given a better life. Had Su Xiyan managed to contact him at any point, he would've taken her son in in a heartbeat. Mu Qingfang consoles him, and they decide, jointly, that it was for the best if he didn't pursue that relationship. Not with Mobei-jun promising to stick by the boy, and not with the way he'd treated Shen Qingqiu.

And everyone just... moves on with their lives.

Mu Qingfang and Shang Qinghua are happy together; they have three kids that get absolutely spoiled by their disciples, and they take care of each other, ensuring neither overworks too severely. Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu, without the threat of Binghe's return hanging over them, relax more. They enjoy peaceful days with the Qing Jing disciples, they have fun jointly beating up the Bai Zhan disciples and teaching them new moves, and their hunts aren't nearly as battle-focused as they were before, giving Shen Qingqiu a chance to study the beasts rather than immediately going to fight them.

Luo Binghe and Mobei-jun are rarely apart and treat each other as equals in all things. They value the other's advice when implementing policies, and they will each jump to the other's defense, whether it be physically or through words. It surprises absolutely no one when their affair is found out — at first a convenient way to control Xin Mo, eventually morphing into a proper relationship. They're the rulers of the demon realm, they need not abide by the rules, but... Luo Binghe enjoys planning the wedding, and Mobei-jun can't deny him that, even if it meant dealing with the paperwork of technically merging the two kingdoms but also not. Their broken hearts have long been mended by each other, and it's no surprise when they have six children, close-knit and loving, like the family they wished they'd had sooner.

-

Tianlang-jun rotted away, despite Zhuzhi-lang's best efforts. His last act was to give Zhuzhi-lang enough energy to sustain his human form indefinitely. He is purposeless, and alone, and he sits beside his uncle's corpse for far longer than he should have. There's nothing left for him, not with his uncle gone.

So he exits the cave, and he sits under a tree, out in the open. He is very clearly a demon within Huan Hua territory, so it wouldn't take long for a cultivator to stumble upon him and put him out of his misery. Sure enough, in the middle of his patrol, Gongyi Xiao sees a snake demon just... sitting there. He doesn't look hostile, nor does he look like he's going to move.

He also just... looks kinda pathetic.

So, Gongyi Xiao makes a decision. He can't, in good conscience, leave it there. If he does, and it attacks someone, that's his fault. He also can't just kill it if it's not even doing anything. So he decides to... initiate conversation.

It takes a while for Zhuzhi-lang to bother properly responding, but once he does, they get along quite well. He shares stories about his and his uncle's journies through the human realm, reminiscing as he starts to process his grief. Gongyi Xiao decides, maybe this demon isn't that bad actually, and before they know it, it's sun down and Gongyi Xiao is very late.

They meet daily, with Gongyi Xiao taking on more patrols than usual to make sure his demon is doing alright. Eventually, though, pieces of Zhuzhi-lang's story start to... click. They conflict with things he's been told by his shizun. Maybe Zhuzhi-lang is misremembering in his grief, but... he's concerned enough to start investigating on his own.

He finds a lot of dirt on the Old Palace Master, most of it completely unrelated to Su Xiyan, which is what he was actually trying to investigate. Eventually, he grows so disgusted with the sheer amount of crimes the old man has committed that he decides to just... start a coup. He's well-liked, so it's easy enough to get people on his side — it's even easier when he starts spreading rumors and has all of the man's misdeeds printed into a fairly popular book (more than a few publishing houses were burned down because of it, oops). He didn't... intend to replace the old man, but that's what happened and, hey, now he can bring his demon home and no one can fight him over it, yes sect leaders, he's perfectly sane, thank you.

Zhuzhi-lang learns that he's just as attracted to competence and beauty as Tianlang-jun, he just prefers his with a side of kindness rather than tsundere. He also finds it incredibly funny that everyone just... pointedly ignores his presence. A demon he may be, but their sect leader wanted him there, so there he would stay. The whole scenario brings to mind the forbidden romances his uncle loved to read about. As he settles in, watching Gongyi Xiao overhaul Huan Hua Palace and all its greedy rules, he thinks his uncle would want to see how this story ends.

-

AND THAT'S IT! My wrists hurt and i accidentally posted before it was done, lmao, but yeah. Feel free to write this, I feel like I'd start it and never finish lol

[daisymbin]

hii! been obsessed with your writing lately. thank you for sharing with us!!

if it inspires you, i would love to see your interpretation of prompt 46 from the fluff prompt list ("you doodled hearts in my notebook again.") with university! chan.

always excited for your stories, take care!!

ah!! thank you for your kind words and thank you for requesting this!!! ugh university fics always gives me the butterflies 🥲

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // chan's m.list

fluff prompt #46: "you doodled hearts in my notebook again."

you had missed a lecture the day before, overwhelmed with assignments and life, and chan, being the helpful seatmate that he was, offered to lend you his notes. it wasn’t the first time he’d done it, but this time felt a little different.

you weren’t sure why, but when you took his notebook, you felt a little nervous, maybe because you'd always liked chan more than just a friend.

the next day, you returned the notebook, trying to act casual about it. “thanks again for letting me borrow it. i swear, i’ll catch up on everything soon,” you said, handing him his notes with a small, apologetic smile.

chan took the notebook with a bright grin, always more than happy to help. “don’t worry about it. you can borrow it again if you need it.”

“you’re too nice,” you said, giving him a teasing look.

“only because you’re my favorite study buddy,” he joked, though the words slipped out a little more naturally than he intended.

later that night, chan found himself finally sitting down with the notebook after a long day, eager to check if you had caught up on the material. but when he opened it, he was caught off guard.

there, scattered across the pages, were little hearts doodled around his name.

he let out a breath, half-laughing in disbelief. again?

this wasn’t the first time it had happened. months ago, when he had lent you his notebook for the first time, you had drawn hearts around his name, and he had been so embarrassed that he didn’t even mention it to you. it seemed like a one-time thing. but now, here it was again—little hearts marking his name, just as sweet as before.

chan’s fingers traced over the doodles as his heart began to race. he tried to convince himself that it didn’t mean anything. maybe you just liked drawing hearts. but deep down, he wondered—was this your way of telling him something?

the next day, chan sat next to you in class, unable to hide his small grin. you sat down next to him, but he was already focused on his notebook, pretending to take notes, though his mind was completely elsewhere.

you looked at him, wondering why he was being so quiet. finally, after a few moments, he spoke up, his voice light but teasing.

“you doodled hearts in my notebook again,” chan said, his eyes playful as he watched you.

you blinked in confusion. “what? i did?” you stammered, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

chan nodded, turning his notebook toward you, showing you the page where your hearts were still drawn around his name.

“you did. and this isn’t the first time either,” he added, his voice softer now, like he was trying to understand. “didn’t you do this before, a long time ago?”

your face flushed a bright shade of red. “i—I didn’t even realize I did it,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “it’s just... a habit.”

chan’s lips curled up into a soft smile as he watched your nervous reaction. “you really don’t realize it, huh?” he teased gently.

you sighed, trying to laugh it off. “nope, no idea. i just doodle stuff when i’m bored, you know?”

but chan wasn’t buying it. he leaned in a little closer, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “are you trying to tell me something with all these hearts? or is it just a coincidence?” he asked, voice dropping slightly.

your heart raced, and you nervously fiddled with the hem of your shirt, avoiding his gaze. “what do you mean?” you asked, feigning ignorance even though you could feel your face getting hotter by the second.

chan raised an eyebrow, his playful smile growing. “are you trying to tell me something? like… maybe you have a crush on me?” he asked, his voice light and teasing, though there was an edge of curiosity behind it.

your mouth opened and closed as if you were searching for the right words, but nothing came out. the teasing in his tone made you even more flustered, and you struggled to think of something to say.

you managed to mumble, suddenly feeling way too exposed, “it’s just… hearts, right? i always doodle hearts. no big deal.”

chan couldn’t hold back the laugh that bubbled up inside him. “right, just hearts. everywhere. around my name,” he repeated, his voice a little more teasing this time.

you huffed, clearly embarrassed. “okay, okay! maybe i got carried away,” you admitted, now trying to hide behind your notebook. “it’s just something i do when i’m bored. no hidden meanings, promise.”

chan’s grin softened, and he looked at you with a more genuine curiosity. “are you sure?” he pressed, his voice lowering slightly. “because, you know, you can tell me anything.”

you bit your lip, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. “it’s really nothing,” you whispered, but you weren’t sure if you believed that anymore.

chan studied your face for a moment, his smile softening into something more tender. “well, if there’s something you want to tell me... i’m all ears,” he said, his tone sincere.

you didn’t know what to say to that, so instead, you just sat there, lost in his eyes for a moment longer than you should have. but chan could see it all, the way you were looking at him, it was the same fondness he had in his eyes when he looks at you. he wonders if you can see the fondness in his eyes.

“well,” chan said softly, his smile still there but with a little more sincerity, “maybe i’ll just take it as a sign that you like me too.”

your heart skipped a beat as your eyes widened,"too"?

chan watches as the pieces of puzzles slowly click in your head before you let out a small smile

“you think so?”

chan nodded, his voice playful yet serious. “i think it’s pretty obvious.”

and for the first time, you smiled at him without hiding. maybe there was something more to the doodles after all.

[capybonara]

I have waited a long time to write this. I have actively resisted writing this, hoping that, given enough time, it would no longer be necessary. I’d hoped that, given enough time, people would move on, that my own anger would subside.

But they have not moved on. My own anger has not passed. A dear friend of mine by the name of Werewolfsister was horribly treated, and she faced a constant wall of passive aggression to the point that she had to leave entirely.

Both parties have had their say. Now I will say mine. And you might think “Oh god, just let it die,” to which I reply “why are a select few allowed a platform while others are scolded to oblivion?”

I was a third party to this situation who found out, almost as suddenly as my friend, that my presence was unwanted. So to those who publicly picked or “““didnt pick””” a side, I saw a lot of hate towards the friend I do support. And I don't care for it.

With werewolfsister's permission, I am making this a partner to their post. I am not as organized in telling events down to the date, but I am confident in my ability to provide proof where it is necessary.

I’ll start with the basic accusation: Tumblr user kenneduck has claimed that werewolfsister forced them to adapt their trauma into the latter’s comic, Labor of Love. Further, the accuser has claimed that a majority of the story, including a majority of characters, by default including my own, also belonged to Kenneduck.

From her October 12, 2024 post:

With that, let me turn to my own perspective. Let me preempt this by stating that the following information is from my own private conversations with kenneduck. Whether she has shown this information to others or dispensed with it entirely, I do not know. Screenshots supplied will also be the only ones I post out of respect to kenneduck, as the conversations they stem from were often extremely personal.

In mid-September, kenneduck approached me on Discord, stating that they and werewolfsister would work on the comic separately. Werewolf would continue the main story, and kenneduck would be given space to draw specific scenes for Kenne the Zora in a way they saw fit.

By this point, werewolfsister had gone on multiple breaks, preemptively announcing that they would not be speaking to anyone during them. This caused kenneduck to worry, at which point they came to me conveying their worries. I assured them that it was likely simply stress from working on the comic, possibly complicated by other factors we did not know at the time. They then confided in me that they worried they were the cause of pushing werewolfsister away. Kenneduck then informed me that their (kenneduck’s) desire to include personal experiences via Kenne the Zora was taking a toll on their (kenneduck’s) own mental well-being.

I was told by kenneduck themself that Kenne the Zora was given a particular backstory to help process their (kenneduck’s) thoughts on a real life event. When kenneduck disclosed this connection to Kenne the Zora, werewolfsister explicitly decided they could NO LONGER draw this character, as it was so closely tied to something so personal. As explained by Kenneduck, this comic separation was a compromise: it was meant to give kenneduck the freedom to process this event in their own way.

Kenneduck informed me that their (kenneduck’s) circle of friends agreed with werewolfsister’s decision, and that they (said friends) had asked kenneduck to step away as this was causing kenneduck to over think on the matter. Kenneduck informed me they (kenneduck) had not realized they were putting werewolfsister into this situation by having werewolfsister draw Kenne the Zora in the comic.

Upon learning this, I made the offer to speak to werewolfsister on kenneduck’s behalf, and encouraged them to reach out to werewolfsister as well. Kenneduck declined both plans of action, which I understood at the time as it can be scary to perform either one.

I then attempted to do a wellness check on werewolfsister, pointedly avoiding any information kenneduck shared to me. At present, I wince at the timing, because the day after this, werewolfsister announced they would be leaving the zora Discord we mutually participated in. This is no one’s fault: when under high stress, you gotta do what you must to take care of yourself.

Near the start of October, kenneduck approached me a second time, during which I still had no news to relay to them. Armed with slightly better understanding regarding why the comic split was occurring, I encouraged kenneduck, saying that werewolfsister was not acting out in anger.

^ Context: the “drama post” in question was werewolfsister responding to other people’s demands for greater representation of their own characters and insinuated charges of favoritism. Kenneduck made their own post to back werewolfsister up; to the best of my knowledge, this post has since been deleted. The only posts of its former existence are Werewolfsister's comment in their original post and an exchange between Kenneduck and I.

^ Context: I relayed that werewolfsister wasn't replying to comments I made on their page either. I suggested that werewolfsister’s lack of activity wasn’t out of spite, as they queued their pages up most of the time.

^ Context: We discussed what kenneduck’s friends told them about respecting werewolfsister’s decision to split the comic. Kenneduck made a few posts in our group chat at the time, apologizing for over-sharing personal information. This was one of the instances of kenneduck explicitly saying in private, to me, that they were adapting their own trauma for Kenne the Zora and the comic.

Everything I learned about werewolfsister's decision to split the comic came explicitly from Kenneduck. Kenneduck had nothing untoward to say about werewolfsister in these conversations.

Nothing else was said on the matter. Our last exchanges were quite positive; we shared pictures of our cats, they showed me an awesome Bluey plush, and she was sharing progress on a Sidon/Link/Yona piece they were doing. Kenneduck expressed -- what I thought at the time was -- genuine concern for Werewolfsister. Kenneduck also discussed going on their own break to think on how to approach Kenne the Zora's role in the comic.

Days later, I found an announcement via reblog from werewolfsister that kenneduck would not be completing Kenne the Zora’s section of the comic. This was understandable. Werewolfsister then announced they would continue the story, and do their best to do so without shining light on those issues that vexed kenneduck.

Then a switch flipped.

This is when Kenneduck made their post accusing werewolfsister of forcing Kenneduck into using their trauma. All of a sudden, werewolfsister never ASKED for their permission, and that they needed to take the comic down because her trauma was on full display.

Werewolfsister was not the only one blocked and removed. I was also removed from kenneduck’s friend list on Discord. Werewolfsister later discovered kenneduck’s side of their chats were deleted. I assume that's why I was removed as well.

This has been extremely upsetting, especially considering everything was kept private until kenneduck spoke up with a different story. Worse, when werewolfsister spoke up in their own defense, suddenly they were the bad guy for “making this public”. They were blocked. People told them they were no longer allowed to draw their OCs. Someone came to me to insult them, warning “Your characters are going to get ruined too!”

It's not cool.

None of this is cool.

Before this accusation, I had nothing negative to say about kenneduck. I had sympathy towards what they were feeling, and encouraged them to be cautious before sharing personal information. As I said to kenneduck at the time, communication between the two may have helped, but the decision was done. Werewolf's decision to separate the comic did hurt kenneduck’s feelings, but kenneduck themself acknowledged it was for the best as it was for the sake of their mental health and safety. I was given the impression kenneduck accepted and respected werewolfsister’s decision.

From this:

To this:

And one is always welcomed to change their minds. You should always be safe to revoke your consent on something. However, Kenneduck made the decision to broadcast to a public audience with a story entirely different from what was shared with me in private. I don't use this phrase lightly: they weaponized their trauma against werewolfsister.

And it worked.

Werewolfsister has been ostracized ever since. I've suffered blowback myself. Since then, werewolfsister and I have talked about doing our best to press on, but the atmosphere has changed. People who followed or even interacted with us have changed.

It sucks.

Folks prefer to keep quiet and avoid drama. That’s fine when it involves discourse on shipping or which characters are loved or hated. But this deals with deeply personal issues brought into the open, and the actions have affected actual people's lives.

If anyone wants to point fingers then point them at me.

Werewolfsister and I spoke more often after kenneduck made their accusation. They’ve stressed over how to finish the comic. Whether they were going to get more hate for doing so. If I was going to get more harassment just by associating with her. In the end, it was my suggestion that werewolfsister continue the rescue arc of the story. I suggested they either make kenneduck’s characters unrecognizable by darkening their silhouettes OR replacing them with new OCs, but I felt the latter might be disrespectful as it might somehow be interpreted as erasing Kenne the Zora’s presence. I helped write parts of Denouement and gave ideas for the epilogue’s ending.

I say this to waylay any more opinions of how werewolfsister was erasing or ruining specific characters because yes, with months separating their last cameo, werewolf STILL received requests to “no longer” use other players’ OCs as though they’re going to twirl their mustache and ruin said characters for all time.

If you're reading this, I'm not here to stir the pot. This is why it's under a cut: if you're reading this, it's because you chose to.

I'm also not telling people to pick sides. People will follow who they want to follow. That's their prerogative. Kenneduck will live their life and I hope they heal. They will find more friends, who I hope they treat with more kindness and honesty than they did werewolfsister. People will have their opinions, and you can't change minds with posts like these.

But people got hurt by this. Malicious intent was directed at one person, and others followed the example they set.

To anyone who follows me, who has made the decision that werewolfsister is a liar and a manipulator, unfollow me as well. Block me. I don't want anything to do with this two-faced behavior. If kenneduck says what werewolfsister did is true, why haven’t they said the same of me? I was literally in the middle of this.

^ Here I am, spitballing with kenneduck about how Kenne the Zora might be affected by the plot!

Here are other moments where I'm sketching with kenneduck about how Kenne the Zora’s traumas may be affected by the plot! 

Exactly as they did with werewolfsister! How is this any different?

Should these conversations have been kept private? Absolutely, and before kenneduck loosed their accusations, they were. But you can't announce neutrality in something you're not personally involved in, then treat one side badly and act all morally superior because yOu’Ve DoNe A sErViCe.

I originally thought I could keep neutral by staying quiet. I can't, because it would be wrong of me to. People have treated my friend like some villain who is chomping at the bit to destroy their OCs ever since this was made public. For six whole months werewolfsister has been doing free gift art without so much as a thanks from the majority. I am so angry about that. People were excited about receiving her, again, FREE ART - then a public statement by the recipient of six months of free gift art soured the joy of gift art altogether, subjecting us to an atmosphere of “You can't use my character because you'll ruin them! It makes me uncomfortable!”

You know, I’m not just upset at kenneduck. I'm just as upset at how easily it was for other people here to turn on a dime. For people to proudly say “Glad I'm not part of this” and still take sides.

A community involves active work to make people feel welcome. It requires courage to communicate, to find ways to keep the peace with its members, and make sure the community remains a safe space for those within it.

What I saw instead was a popular individual of the fandom using their platform to isolate another. I saw people follow that behavior and they made it known to werewolfsister and I that we were not welcome in this space. That we need to stay in the farthest corner possible and leave everyone alone.

That is clique behavior.

This is not a community. We're definitely not in this together; the majority of people here have been clear on that. The messages sent to me as of late have been clear on that.

There's no debate here: prior to werewolfsister's decision, there was NO animosity between the two. Werewolfsister made a choice she believed would keep her own mental health protected and did her best to respect kenneduck’s.

And for some reason Kenneduck decided to tell a different story, and everyone was content with not hearing our side. When harassment and bullying is happening, it's expected for people to stay quiet about it because it's no one else's problem. We didn't want to cause a fuss so we kept quiet and kept our opinions under read more’s so as not to offend others. I was told when I spoke up about those anons it kept people from wanting to join werewolfsister’s epilogue project because they were also afraid of being harassed. This is why I said there's no community here.

I have experienced harassment in fandom spaces before, and it can be awful, especially when you're led to believe you're alone. But just because I'm experienced doesn't mean these situations hurt any less. This has started to make me spiral in ways I don't want to go back to. I had to go to the ER because the stress was becoming too much that I was showing symptoms akin to a heart attack.

If anyone feels isolated or depressed due to such behaviors please PLEASE reach out to someone. To others, if you see a friend struggling, please lend them your support before it gets to a dangerous point. If you can't find help in the spaces you frequent there is always help in some form.

Werewolfsister decided to leave the fandom space as well as tumblr entirely because of this clown show. I won't be posting on my Tides blog for a while, if at all, because I give up. So congratulations, your precious OCs are FINALLY safe!

Many may not consider werewolfsister as a friend, or even as a kind person, so you better stop looking at me as one too, because I've been mirroring her values since meeting her. I don't care about your opinions on who is right, that you don't like my art, how you're better at dealing with drama, or that you won't follow me. It takes zero effort to NOT be an asshole.

Let me have my peace. My dear friend is gone, so leave me alone too.

My absence will be of no loss to you.

[ellieslittleburrow]

Requested by : @whats-goingon22 : John Winchester comes back to find a fully grown daughter he does not recognize. How do they both react, knowing that John Winchester was never a good father? (Full request)

Warnings : Swear words, death of a father, and a heartbreak?

A/N : i'm so sorry 😂😭🤍 i've been wanting to develop my writing style and so writing the way " i do" has been sooo torturous. It's like you want out of your skin but you're stuck into it.

-------

John winchester is the ghost of your life. The fruit of one too many dreams to count.

He existed more in your sleep than he ever did in your physical life. He, in the most literal of ways shaped you, the person you are now- a blessing in some cases but mostly a curse. He was definitely In your life. Just never in a happy way, though.

The itsy bits of life you've shared with him went from dada, to daddy to father and then to sir!

One specific moment haunted you, a moment that came to look different as you grew older. Your father had you cradled in his arms, he'd held you tightly as tears streamed down your cheeks. He'd shushed you and held you tightly before turning on his heels and leaving. You'd thought you hurt him to the point that he couldn't face you anymore, but the reality of that moment was that John Winchester couldn't bear the face of terror, even on a child.

He couldn't bear the vulnerability of a child. He left because he was ashamed of your humanity.

A humanity that faded as the years went by- Even when he was still around. You could never be yourself around him and soon enough you forgot how to be yourself, how to feel. You lost a part of yourself that completely dissapeared with John's death.

But still, Just the thought of him elevated the hairs on your arms-and you thought about him a lot-it worked your stomach up in a way nothing else could have. It would stiffen your mucles and somehow work it's way to your intestines, twisting them in knots.

It physically and mentally hurt. Always. fucking. have.

But now, as you stood before him at the bottom of the bunker stairs, a different kind of pain surged through you, one you've never experienced before. Because as much as you wished you'd see him-you actually never thought you would. But there he was standing before you.

John Winchester.

------

You walked down the bunker stairs, your ears pricking up to an...ambiguously familiar voice.

"Hey-"

Sam abruptly shot up from his seat, jolting your fight or flight response in the process. Curiously pushed you forward as you walked the last steps, startling when your eyes landed on him-the fourth person in the room.

And you wished they hadn't. Because as your heart pounded in your chest, you froze, you completely froze.

The bunker went quiet and....Da....D...J-Jo-John seemed to be just as confused as you were. Just as shocked.

It felt wrong seeing him, saying his name-looking at him. He looked older, somewhat wiser. His face worn down by the traces of his fights, haunting his every feature. He watched you just as you watched him back, mouth agape-

All those things you'd said to him in your dreams. All the fights you'd had with him about how badly he treated you. About the emptiness he left within you. The constant look out for that fatherly love you'd so desperately hunted for. Nowhere, because your voice had failed you.

Just then, you noticed that your chest was heaving and you...You couldn't. You couldn't be here anymore-you...You needed to breathe. And so you took off running.

The silence in your room felt hauntingly suffocating as it allowed your thoughts overflow. And you realized then- You've never ever gotten over it. Having Sam and Dean was nothing less than a blessing. But they could never seal the hole left aching.

But...but he looked different and you...you...he's here and...Maybe you should...

You leaped off bed and sprinted to the door, sticking your ear to the latter. Their voices were quite drowned but... They suddenly went quiet. Does that mean...Does that mean he's leaving again?

No...No..NO.

As you flung open the door, an "I'm ready" from the other side of the hallway caused adrenaline to rush through you. And you sprinted.

"DADDY"

A loud shout surged from your throat as you rounded the last corner, crashing into your father's arms just as a loud thump echoed throughout the room.

Sam crushing the pearl only had you grip your father's jacket tight. As if your embrace could keep him in place. Like an achor in an angry sea.

Your dad envelopped you just as tightly, each hand gripping the opposite shoulder. A firm hold-one that would usually hurt-but instead, one that only felt like a plea for forgiveness, for all the wrong doings, for the void.

But then, just like that, all the weight around your body, the weight you leaned onto vanished. And you felt light again, a physical lightness that complemented the heaviness consuming you.

You fell to the ground, just as your whole world collapsed. All those walls you build to protect yourself, all that strength you dug from god knows where. All gone.

Your chest swelled and an ugly sob broke free of you, followed by a pool of tears that begged the question : am i happy or am i sad?

As you lie there, overwhelmed, another figure leaned over you, holding you in a protective embrace, murmuring words that outpaced your own thoughts.

And although you were lost, you knew for sure that-you finally had your goodbye.

-----

Hii! What do we thiiink ? Hope yall enjoyed this and see you next tiime!🖤🖤🖤🥀🥀🥀

[frownyalfred]

in the realm of like, rich kid problems, I want to someday read/write a fic where Nightwing is slowly establishing himself as a full-fledged JL member and everyone is relieved because finally, there's a nice Bat on the Watchtower who doesn't just shoot down their plans and deny their mission requests. but. while Nightwing is kind, and polite, and charming in all the ways the Bat isn't, he's still Dick Grayson. and Dick Grayson grew up as a very rich kid's suddenly very rich kid, which is to say while Bruce might not take it personally, Dick has been fending off people almost his entire life who were trying to use him for his Dad's money. which is to say, I think once Nightwing is on board and the relationship between him and Batman is at least somewhat well-known, there is suddenly a rush of younger, less-experienced members trying to take advantage of Nightwing, mistaking that kindness and openness for willingness to either voluntarily, or involuntarily, infringe upon and cross Batman's clear-cut boundaries. bribing Dick for a better monitor shift with Batman is one thing (it doesn't really work, Dick can't bribe Bruce with much as it is) but trying to convince Nightwing to lie to Batman? to go against him? his dad? the man who pulled him up when he had nothing and gave him meaning again? that man?? and then comes the inevitable, chilling realization, that while Nightwing might wear a different mask, might wear an open smile on the Watchtower and with friends off-shift, there are some lines he won't cross, same as Bruce. he won't, sure as the sun rises and the rot rolls off the Gotham Harbor in the morning.

[sweet-self-indulgence]

Heyyy, so I saw a post on Michaelas blog talking about MC teaching Sam or Damien how to read while teasing them and such, I DMd you the post. Do you think you can write that with Sam and Mika?

I had so much fun writing the teasing part of this!

Private Tutoring

Reading lessons aren’t going well for Sam. Mika finds that he can focus better when she uses her tongue, but soon the teacher is distracted from the lesson.

“Fuck this! I’ve gone a hundred years as an illiterate idiot. I can spend the next hundred the same way!”

Damien lays a hand on Mika’s shoulder, keeping her from darting out after Sam, “He needs a minute.”

She blows out a sigh in an attempt to clear the jitters from Sam’s startling outburst. “ I just don’t know what to do. I know memorization is boring, but I don’t want to treat him like a child….”

Mika drops her head into her hands and groans, “and now he hates me.”

Damien pats her back, “You know he doesn’t hate you”

“He hates me as a teacher then.” Mika pouts.

He chuckles, “I don’t think Sam is capable of hating any part of you.” Shaking his head he adds almost under his breath, “Himself on the other hand…”

Mika is halfway to the library door before she turns towards Damien guiltily.

“Go”, He waves a hand lazily “I’ve got these worksheets to finish.”

~

Mika finds Sam on the roof.

He watches her carefully as she hoists herself up from the window, “You shouldn’t be up here with your fragile human bones.”

“You shouldn’t be up here with your fragile demon ego” Mika rolls her eyes before wincing at the offended look on Sam’s face.

She sucks a breath through her teeth, “Sorry, that’s not what I came up here to do.”

Sam groans and pushes his fingers through his hair roughly, “No, It’s a fair hit. I bet I sounded like a spoiled brat back there.”

Mika sits next to him, “Nah, just a frustrated one.”

He huffs through his nose, “That’s putting it mildly.”

“Do you…need some more time alone?” Mika starts to get up but is stopped by Sam’s hand on her own.

“No! it’s just…” words seem to fail him  for a few moments before they all come tumbling from his mouth, “I feel so fucking stupid. There’s a million tiny squiggles that have names and make noises, but sometimes they make different noises. Like, how can anyone learn all that crap! But Damien gets it! And then I realize I’m jealous of Damien for sounding out ‘the cat sat on the fuckin’ mat’, which is stupid and pathetic!”

Sam’s face turns bright red at his outburst. He covers it with his hands and falls back onto the roof, “The only thing my brute head is good for is takin’ hits.”

 Mika blinks back her surprise at the rollercoaster of emotions. “I wish you wouldn’t talk about my friend like that.” She finally murmurs.

“I’ll apologize to Damien later” Sam mumbles through his hands.

“I was talking about you, doofus!”

He’s suddenly in her face, eyes wide, and cheeks flushed, “You can’t call me that!”

“Why not?” Mika cocks her head, curious about this sudden passion.

“Be- because that’s what I call you!”

“So?”

Everything about Sam seems to soften. When he finally speaks his voice has a softer, richer tone “So it’s special, okay?”

“Oh… O-okay.” It’s Mika’s turn to blush.

“You’re special.” Sam’s low voice affects her more strongly than any enthrallment. Mika’s heart races, deepening the shade of red on her face and making her palms feel sweaty where they grip the roof like a lifeline.

When she notices his eyes flick down to her lips, she closes the short distance between them.

The kiss is soft and passionate. Their lips move in a steady rhythm against each other, every movement makes Mika feel warmer and warmer. Her chest constricts with emotion, and she has to pull back to catch her breath.

The starstruck look Sam gives her has Mika diving back into him. She straddles his lap as she grips his shoulders. The second kiss is deep and needy. Mika pulls Sam impossibly closer as his tongue swirls inside her mouth.

Sam moves to kiss at the side of her throat and Mika rolls her hips into him in response.

“Oh, Mika”

The girl shivers at the feeling of his lips forming her name on her sensitive neck. Sam repeats her name, and an idea forms in Mika’s mind.

She drops her head to his ear and whispers, “Sam”

Mika grins wickedly as the demon shudders underneath her.

Starting just below his earlobe, she traces an ‘s’ with the tip of her tongue. An ‘a’ takes up the middle of his neck, and Mika gently tugs down the collar of his short to make room for the ‘m’ gracing his collarbone.   

“Wait? Was that—”

Mika places a gentle finger of his lips as she moves to his other side.

She repeats the process of whispering his name and carefully tracing each letter.

This time when she finishes Sam exhales a quiet statement, “My name.”

“Ah, so you can spell when your… attention is on it.” Mika teases with a wink.

“Not funny.” Sam huffs.

“Not trying to be.” Mika says gently as she cups the side of his face. “A good teacher meets the needs of her student. And I think you need some hands on learning.”

She emphasizes her point by  sliding her free hand down his chest. Her fingers come to the hem of his shirt and tug at it, “Your other name has a lot more letters.”

Sam whips his shirt off and stares at her expectantly. Mika gently pushes on his shoulders until he’s lying back on the roof.

Mika’s hair slides forward to frame her face as she bends down to whisper in his ear, “Aomaris.”

The demon’s hands fly up to grab Mika’s hips, they move with her as she hovers over his chest. Her tongue traces an ‘a’ on his pectoral, the ‘o’ follows below it. Mika can feel his abs clenching under her tongue as it writes ‘m’ ‘a’ ‘r’ ‘i’ down his stomach. She takes her time demonstrating a languid ‘s’ down Sam’s hipbone.

She crawls back up his body slowly chanting, “A-O-M-A-R-I-S.” When she reaches his face her lips ghost over his as she whispers, “Aomaris.”, before lowing herself the final distance to kiss him properly.

When their lips part Sam pleads, “Show me again… please.”

Mika dives to his other side. Her lips press against his neck as she says his name again. She repeats the ‘a’ on his other pectoral, but elects to circle his nipple with her ‘o’. Sam’s grip of her hips tightens. Mika’s tongue moves slowly for the ‘m’ ‘a’ ‘r’ ‘i’ , savoring the taught muscle of her canvas. Her final ‘s’ dips even lower than the first, her tongue exploring the space where Sam’s hip dips below the fabric of his waistband.   

Mika is breathless as she groans, “Aomaris” just above the button of Sam’s jeans. She feels a pulsing against her cheek as he groans her name in response.

She bites the fabric surrounding the button and yanks it free. Her tongue plays with the zipper as Sam’s breath hitches.

When the zipper is finally lowered, Mika wastes no time sliding his boxers down. His thick cock springs free and bounces against her cheek. Sam makes a small noise in the back of his throat.

As Mika licks up from the base to the tip, she marvels at how it has fit inside her before and wonders if it will fit anywhere else. When the tip of Mika’s tongue flicks over the tip of Sam’s length it twitches mightily. Sam begins unraveling, “Shit. Fuck, Mika!”

She pops the head in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it a few times, eliciting  another string of curses, “Oh hells, your mouth! Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Sam’s hands move to grab her ass. Mika moans into him and he gasps.

Mika decides to test her theory. Her mouth slides slow down a few inches before moving back up again. With each bob of her head Mika gets another inch into her throat. The demon’s words have become mostly incoherent, “Mnnn Mika. Yes. Please…. Fuck.”

A few tantalizing inches short, Mika gags hard and sits up to catch her breath. From where he lays on the roof, Sam guides Mika to straddle his hips. He grinds into her core to emphasize each word, “You. Are. So. Fucking. Hot.”

Mika shudders at the feeling of a cock pushing against her folds, separated by her thin panties. She slides her skirt higher up her hips and slides her panties to the side, “Fuck me.”

Sam uses one hand to line himself up with her entrance and the other to hold her chin close to his face. All at once Mika sees his eyes glow a bright gold while the tingling sensation of enthrallment washes over her body and his cock slides inside her.

Mika’s mind is immediately lost in pleasure. She grinds down with small quick thrusts, already tasting the beginning of her orgasm.

It’s all Sam can do to match her intensity as he grunts out more curses between clenched teeth. “Fuck, Mika. Ride me! Hells you feel amazing. Don’t stop. Shit, don’t stop.”

It doesn’t take long until the enthrallment peaks. Mikas nails dig into Sam’s biceps as his fingers bruise her hips.

As the haze of her arousal fades Mika suddenly feels exposed on the roof, “H-how about we, ummm…” she glances awkwardly at where they’re still connected.

Sam eases out of her with a small gasp and carefully replaces her underwear and skirt. “Let’s go inside.”

Mika nods.

Before she can climb off his lap, Sam sits up and whispers into her ear suggestively, “but I’m not done with you yet. There are so many more words I want to spell with you ~”

[scarred0and-starry]

First kiss - The Marauders

AN: a couple of quick updates, i've been writing like crazy today, saw into the woods again tonight and it was amazing, as per usual. anyhow it hit me with some inspiration for the theatre kid au so i've put a few hours of work into that, don't really know whose interested in it but i'm having fun so i think I'll see it through, first chapter tonight maybe? i think im gonna stack up some of these hc posts and schedule them to post so i can focus on the au. either way im having the time of my life writing. anyway i've rambled enough though, enjoy!

-starly ☆

Remus J. Lupin

The moon was still a week away, but Remus felt its tug all the same. The two of you sat beneath a tree on the edge of the lake, the castle glowing softly behind you, and the air heavy with the scent of rain that had passed earlier in the evening.

“Do you ever feel like everything’s too much?” he asked suddenly, his voice low, almost swallowed by the gentle lapping of the water.

You looked at him, your heart aching at the way his shoulders seemed to carry the weight of the world. “Sometimes,” you admitted. “But it’s easier when you’re not alone.”

He turned to you, his golden-brown eyes soft and searching. “Is it?”

“Yes,” you said firmly. “It is.”

The words hung between you, delicate and fragile, until he reached out, his hand brushing yours. You turned your palm to his, threading your fingers together, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I don’t know how to…” he started, his voice trailing off.

“You don’t have to know,” you whispered, leaning in just enough to let him decide.

And he did. Slowly, cautiously, he closed the space between you, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss so gentle it was almost shy. His hand found your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin as though he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

When you finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, a soft, breathless chuckle escaping him. “That wasn’t too much,” he murmured.

“Not at all,” you replied, smiling.

Peter J. Pettigrew

The Gryffindor common room was nearly empty, the fire crackling softly as rain pattered against the windows. Peter sat beside you on the couch, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his sweater.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said, nudging him gently.

“Am I?” he asked, his voice higher than usual. He cleared his throat, glancing at you before looking away again. “Just… thinking.”

“About?”

“You.” The word slipped out before he could stop it, and his eyes widened as though he wanted to pull it back.

You tilted your head, a smile playing on your lips. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You’re—you’re really important to me, you know.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you reached out, covering his hand with yours. “You’re important to me too, Peter.”

His gaze flicked to your hand, then to your face, and for a moment, he seemed to gather all his courage. Slowly, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so tentative it felt like a question.

When you didn’t pull away, he pressed closer, his hand trembling slightly as it cupped your cheek. The kiss was sweet and a little clumsy, but it was undeniably Peter—honest and full of warmth.

When he finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, but he was smiling. “I can’t believe I just did that,” he said, his voice tinged with awe.

“I’m glad you did,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

Sirius O. Black

The Astronomy Tower was quiet, the sky above a canvas of stars blurred slightly by the lingering haze of a recent rain. Sirius leaned against the stone railing, the cool breeze ruffling his dark hair as he looked at you with a lopsided grin.

“You spend too much time thinking,” he said, his voice light but tinged with something deeper.

“And you don’t think enough,” you shot back, though your tone held no real bite.

He laughed, low and warm, before stepping closer. “You’re probably right.” He tilted his head, his gray eyes scanning your face. “So, what are you thinking about now?”

“Maybe I’m thinking about you,” you said, your heart pounding at your own boldness.

His grin faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, almost vulnerable. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Sirius’s hand brushed against yours, his fingers hesitant at first but growing bolder when you didn’t pull away. “You’re dangerous, you know that?” he murmured, his voice dropping.

“Why?”

“Because you make me want things I’m not sure I deserve.”

Before you could respond, he closed the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. It was warm and urgent, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as though he needed to keep you close.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a breathless chuckle. “Bloody hell,” he said, his grin returning. “You’re even better than I imagined.”

James F. Potter

The Quidditch pitch was deserted, the stands empty and the grass damp from the evening’s rain. James had dragged you out here under the pretense of showing you a “cool trick,” but now he was just holding his broom and looking at you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

“So,” you said, crossing your arms, “what’s this trick, Potter?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “Okay, maybe that was an excuse.”

“An excuse for what?”

“To get you out here. Alone.”

Your eyebrows rose, but before you could reply, he stepped closer, his usual bravado replaced by something softer. “Look, I’m not great at this kind of thing,” he admitted, his hand ruffling his already messy hair. “But I like you. A lot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you smiled. “I like you too, James.”

His face lit up, and before either of you could second-guess it, he leaned in. His lips met yours in a kiss that was as confident as it was sweet, one hand gently cupping your cheek while the other still clutched his broom.

When he pulled back, he was grinning from ear to ear. “So, does this mean you’ll go out with me?”

“Wasn’t that already obvious?” you teased, and he laughed, spinning his broom triumphantly.

“Well, now it’s official.”